The Spoilers by Matt Braun Page B

auction, were sold to waterfront brothelkeepers or put to work in the Chinatown cribs.
    The virgin market, May Ling remarked, was conducted on a somewhat higher level. Procurers in China contracted for the girls at an early age, generally two through five. The parents then raised the girls, and the procurer meanwhile contracted to deliver virgins of a specified age group, and on a specified date, in San Francisco. Even now, her master held contracts on some four hundred virgins, ages two through sixteen, who were available for delivery on demand. Thus, there was always a plentiful stock to supply future markets.
    Starbuck listened with only one ear. His attention
was fixed on the platform. Several men had stepped forward to probe and fondle a girl who looked to be no more than fourteen. She stood dull-eyed and submissive, abject in her nakedness. The auctioneer began the bidding at $200, and within minutes she was sold for $375. The man who bought her paid the auctioneer, and a bill of sale, with the girl’s mark, was quickly produced. The document was legal and binding in American courts. There were quotas restricting Chinese immigration, but there were no laws forbidding the sale of Chinese girls into bondage. The young girl, now a legally bound slave, was swiftly dressed and hustled away by her new master.
    â€œA fortunate girl,” May Ling observed, noting his interest. “Had she not attracted a buyer, she might have joined those who work in the cribs.”
    â€œSo young?” Starbuck said without thinking. “A girl that age in the cribs?”
    â€œOh, yes,” May Ling replied, studying him with a half-smile. “But she would be much older tomorrow. The cribs age a girl quickly.”
    â€œHow long do they last?”
    â€œFour years, perhaps less,” May Ling said in a low voice. “The work is hard, and men use them in cruel ways. Their minds go wrong, or they become diseased, and then they are no longer of value to their master.”
    Starbuck felt a sudden revulsion. “You mean they go crazy?”
    â€œSome do.” May Ling kept her tone casual. “For
most, it is the sailor’s disease—the pox—that claims them.”
    â€œWhat happens then?”
    â€œThey are sent to the hospital.”
    â€œHospital?” Starbuck said, looking at her. “To be cured?”
    â€œNo, to die.” Her appraisal of him was deliberate, oddly watchful. “The crib masters have a secret place they call the hospital. When a girl outlives her usefulness, she is taken there and given a pallet. An attendant places beside her a cup of water and a cup of rice, and a small oil lamp. He informs her that she must die by the time the oil burns out. Later, when he returns, the girl is almost always dead—sometimes by starvation, usually by her own hand.”
    â€œJesus Christ!” Starbuck scowled, shook his head. “Some hospital.”
    â€œYes.” An indirection came into May Ling’s eyes. “The people of Little China call it ‘the place of no return.’”
    Too late, Starbuck sensed the trap. He wiped away the frown and quickly plastered a dopey smile across his face. Yet he wasn’t at all sure he’d fooled May Ling. She’d brought him here, and purposely suckered him into a conversation about crib girls, all to get a reaction. That much was now abundantly clear, and he realized she was swifter than she appeared. No questions, no need to interrogate him. A night’s lovemaking, and her innocent manner had effectively lowered his guard. Then she laid the bait and waited to see his reaction. A goddamned Oriental
mousetrap! And he’d gone for the cheese.
    â€œWell, now!” He gave her a lopsided grin. “Let’s hope none of my little virgins ever needs a trip to the hospital.”
    â€œWould that bother you?”
    â€œAt a thousand bucks a head!” he roared. “You bet your sweet ass