by Bill Brewer
Diegert was getting confused and running out of time. He grabbed Mei Ling and kissed her. She seemed to accept it for a moment and, after a few seconds, put up a struggle and pushed him away. She looked both mystified and horrified. He hadn’t asked anything about Chinese girlfriends, but Diegert knew he’d made a big mistake when Mei Ling wiped her mouth on her sleeve and looked at him through narrow lids with a tightly set jaw.
He said, “I’ve got to go.”
Guests were gathered in the living room. It was enormous with a huge expanse of open space surrounded by three steps built into the floor, creating a sunken living space with fine furnishings, ancient vases and impressive statuary. The Eastern wall was all glass. Diegert was surprised to see that behind the glass was a coral reef. Inside this massive aquarium swam schools of brightly colored fish, a sea turtle, rays gliding by on wings, and all the animals deferred to the eight foot Tiger Shark that pressed its pectoral fin against the glass as it cruised past. He had never seen such an aquarium in a private home, but he had to curtail his curiosity to stay in the role.
Diegert suddenly felt all eyes upon him. Qiang popped up from his chair and strode over with open arms to hug his good friend. With a happy smile and a hearty embrace, Qiang let everybody know that Jian was an important friend.
“Happy New Year,” said Diegert
With a slight delay as he shifted to English, “Happy New Year to you too. How are you doing my friend?” asked the amiable host.
“I’m doing well, thank you.”
Taking a step back and looking Jian up and down Qiang said, “I never knew you could look so good in a suit.”
“I thought I’d give tradition a try,” Diegert said with a chuckle. Handing Qiang the gift box he said, “I got you something I think you’re going to like.”
Qiang looked surprised, but he took the box.
“Open it,” said Diegert.
“You haven’t even greeted my parents yet.”
Smiling nervously as Qiang led the way, Diegert stepped over to Chin Lee and Ming Ha. He gently shook their hands when offered, saying, “Happy New Year” to both of them.
“How are your parents?” asked Chin Lee.
“They’re both fine, thank you.”
The brevity of his answer created an awkward pause. Recovering, Diegert continued, “They send their greetings to you and wish you good luck and good health this year.”
Wan smiles returned and heads nodded gently.
Ming Ha began in Chinese, “怎么样” then shifted to English, “How is your sister?” Her tone implied there could be a problem but Diegert had no idea.
“She’s well.”
Ming Ha’s surprised expression generated another recovery.
“I mean, she’s getting over it and moving forward.”
Ming Ha’s brow furrowed, and she had that look of maternal concern. As she formulated her next question, Chin Lee touched her forearm, silencing his wife. He said, “We wish your whole family good health and prosperity this year.”
Ming Ha’s face couldn’t let the awkward interchange go. She did not smile as is custom after the New Year greeting is bestowed. Her consternation was captured in the group photo that the family took with Jian.
Diegert pressed forward. “I got Qiang a present.”
Now everyone’s faces grew uncomfortable. Chinese New Year was a time of celebration, but gifts were for children and the elderly. It was unusual to give a gift as Diegert was doing, but even more unusual to bring direct attention to it.
“I want him to open it.”
After putting his request out there, it could not be ignored. The awkwardness flowed through the room and everyone, including the fuming Mei Ling, was watching what was going on.
Qiang untied the ribbon that encircled the long flat box. Setting the ribbon on a side table, he lifted the lid, inverted it and placed the lower tray into the lid. Upon a velvet cushion lay a gleaming Chinese Dagger. The blade was long, at least ten inches. It reflected the light like a mirror with both edges tapering into a needle sharp center point. A substantial hilt of braided gold delineated the handle. The rest of the handle was ivory with a magnificent inlaid golden dragon. Adjacent to the blade was a golden scabbard engraved with the mountain home of the dragon.
Qiang was struck by the gift. It was way too much for this celebration and his gratitude and embarrassment blended into a speechless gap mouthed look around the room. He brought his gaze to the face of his friend pleading for explanation for the presentation of such a tremendous gift. Stepping to Qiang’s right. Diegert asked, “Do you like it?”
The room hushed as Qiang bowed his head. “Yes, thank you.”
“Feel the balance of the blade,” suggested Diegert.
Qiang met the eyes of his friend and then looked at the knife. Shifting the box to his left hand, he lifted the weapon with his right. The knife was expertly designed. The handle’s density balanced the blade’s length making it feel almost weightless. Qiang rotated his arm, turning the blade left to right and back again. He looked up at Diegert, into the face of his good friend Jian Wong with an awkward smile. Jian smiled back but, in an instant, his face turned grim.
Diegert clamped his right hand over Qiang’s, tightening his friend’s grip on the dagger. Angling the point, Diegert drove the blade into the chest. The ten inch blade penetrated both ventricles of Qiang’s heart. Withdrawing the blade, Diegert ripped it out of Qiang’s hand. Lifting his arm above his head while inverting the knife, Diegert let out a primal scream as he plunged the blade into Qiang’s neck. The knife sliced the jugular while severing the trachea. Each of Qiang’s final breaths sucked blood into his lungs. The attack obliterated his cardiorespiratory system. Qiang was dead before crumpling to the beautifully ornate carpet of the Wei’s massive living room.
Diegert’s scream had chilled all conversation in the room while the thud of Qiang’s body hitting the floor riveted everyone’s attention. With the knife in hand Diegert shifted his grasp to the end of the handle. He drew back his arm and threw the knife at the aquarium with all his might. The weapon hit the glass hard and bounced to the floor.
Without further hesitation, Diegert sprinted for the exit. Confusion filled the room as the witnesses questioned one another about what they saw. Some said it was a theatrical prank put on by two friends who were known for being jokesters. Any crazy idea was better than the truth, which made no sense.
Mei Ling witnessed the attack. Trained in martial arts, she knew that her brother’s death was no prank. She bolted to the side room, grabbed a pointed pike pole and took a shortcut to the house’s front entrance.
The wall of aquarium glass suffered a small divot where the end of the knife’s handle hit the pane. The pressure of the water stressed the imperfection, which slowly developed an ever-widening circle of cracks. No one was paying any attention to the state of the aquarium so when the giant pane of glass suddenly gave way, the tsunami inundated the living room sweeping everyone off their feet in a maelstrom of raging water. The force upended everything in the room; priceless vases became waterborne projectiles striking the bodies of guests who were unable to withstand the power of water flooding the opulent home.
Diegert streaked down the hall. He could see the front door and knew that, for a few more minutes, surprise was still in his favor. He didn’t see the obstacle, but he felt his foot hit it and he was airborne. His attempt to right himself only made it worse as he twisted and collided with a low table. Upon the table sat a vase, which held a large bouquet of flowers. The crash sent Diegert tumbling to the floor smashing the vase, soaking the carpet and littering the hall with flowers.
Mei Ling retracted her pole after tripping Diegert, entered the hall, charging with her pike pointed at his chest. At the critical moment, Diegert defected the point of the pike and shot his leg up, kicking Mei Ling in the crotch. Diegert’s foot stopped her as he yanked the shaft from her hands. She fell against the wall and on to the floor. They both qui
ckly regained their footing, squaring off in defensive stances.
Mei Ling was surprised. The Jian she knew had no martial arts skills at all. She’d beaten him many times in playful sparring. He would never stand up to her, especially in a real fight.
She lashed out with a series of kicks and thrusts to the face. Diegert recognized the attack and fended the strikes instantaneously. Mei ling was shocked. Jian never practiced martial arts. He lacked quickness and coordination while this guy was fast, strong, and experienced.
Diegert was backing toward the door when Mei Ling unleashed another attack with kicks and a spinning chop strike designed to counter the typical defenses for the kicks. Diegert’s arm was right there to block the chop strike. He could see that Mei Ling did not expect him to be able to resist her attack.
The door was right behind him now. Frustrated with his skills, Mei Ling screamed,
“为什么” (Why?)
She repeated her scream, “为什么, 为什么, 为什么!”
Diegert offered no reply. He held the face of Jian in a stern grimace.
Mei Ling, repeated her angry inquisition shouting now in English, “WHY?”
Diegert opened the door and stepped outside. “You will never understand.”
Mei Ling launched into a sprint. Diegert timed her arrival at the threshold, swinging the door with all his might. The broad expanse of heavy wood collided with Mei Ling’s slim athletic body. The door overpowered her outstretched arms, striking her head and shoulders, sending her to the floor with a resounding thud.
CHAPTER 6
Turning from the entrance to the Wei’s home, Diegert saw his ride lurching forward to pick him up. Climbing into the back seat Diegert said, “Hit it.” Looking through the back window he could see people racing out the door, heading towards their vehicles.
“This is where you earn your money, dude. Lose these guys and get me to the airport as fast as you can.”
“Roger that, mate.”
The black Toyota Camry’s acceleration threw Diegert back against the seat as he struggled with his clothing bag. His suit coat, shirt and pants were all splattered with blood. From the bag, he pulled out a pair of khaki pants and a navy blue polo. Stripping off his blood stained clothes; he stuffed them in the bag. Dressing in the back of a car is never easy and the Australian driver did not make it any easier as he zoomed through the boulevards of the wealthy section on his way to the narrower, more modest streets.
Inside the Wei’s mansion, the volume of water in the sunken living room allowed the fish to swim amongst the guests, the hors devours, the furniture and the toppled statuary. Several people screamed as they were shocked by the electric eel whose distress had maximized its voltage. Water continued to pour into the room as more of the glass crumbled. The Tiger Shark fell over the edge and into the room. Swimming was difficult for the big fish, but not impossible. The shark was disoriented and aggressive. One man, attempting to cross to a higher point in the room, passed in front of the beast. The shark lunged at the man’s leg, crushing the bone within its jaws and flopping the man’s body back and forth, as it thrashed between a couch and a coffee table.
Speeding through the suburban section, they were making good time. Diegert pulled on the khaki pants and struggled into the blue polo. Looking behind them, he tried to determine which cars were actually following them.
The driver said, “That white BMW and the gold Mercedes have been with us since we left. I think I’ll lose ’em, now that we’ve got more traffic.”
Diegert realized this wasn’t his only problem. He scrolled through the photo gallery on his phone looking for a picture that would help him avoid detection. Whatever picture he found would have to be rendered into a 3D file. He had the software, and his phone could handle the required computing power, but the process took at least twenty minutes.
A hard left sent Diegert flopping to the right, causing him to fumble his phone. The device fell to the floor and slid under the front passenger seat.
“Ha ha,” laughed the driver in his Aussie accent, “Slipped that bugger in the Beamer!” Checking the rearview, he could see the Mercedes made the turn and was still in pursuit.
Diegert undid his seat belt so he could crawl down and search for the phone. Reaching his hand under the seat, he discovered where all the trash was stored in this car. It was as disgusting as an American minivan on a family vacation.
Orange and banana peels, greasy burger wrappers, pudding cups with chocolate residue, one glove, a busted old I-pod charger cord, a can of soda from which fluid was still dribbling, and Diegert’s phone.
Diegert regained his seat as the driver said, “The buggers are right beside us. Hold on to your skivvies.”
The car swerved to the left, bumping the passenger door into the front right corner of the Mercedes. The contact was jolting, but as the two cars separated, the Mercedes stayed right on them. Diegert could see the faces of the chase car’s driver and passenger as they angrily gestured through the windows.
“Damn it, those Mercedes are heavier than most,” said the driver with determination. “I’ll give her a little more this time.”
With the cars both driving straight down the road, the Aussie swerved right and then pulled hard and sharp to the left. The Camry bashed the Mercedes on the front corner. Diegert flew across the cabin, colliding with the right door. The Mercedes careened to the left, struck a parked car, and spun out into oncoming traffic. The resulting crash involved four vehicles and the driver from down under whooped it up in celebration.
“Mother of Christ, did you see that? Whoo – Wee, we left them in a jam didn’t we?!”
Diegert once again picked himself up off the floor. He set his butt back in the seat as he said, “I can see you were paying attention when they taught offensive driving in school.”
“Yes sir, I want to get to the airport with none of them to bother us.”
Diegert returned to searching the gallery of his phone for the right photo. As he scrolled through picture after picture, he saw what he needed. He would never have thought of this image, but as soon as he found it, he knew it was right. He copied the file into the app and the 3D rendering commenced.
As he called ahead to the airport to order the Gulfstream prepped and the crew ready for departure, he realized they were driving through congested tenements. Seeing throngs of desperate people clinging to an overcrowded urban existence, Diegert lowered the window and ejected the bag of bloody clothes. Two scrawny women pounced on the bag, fighting like starving cats.
Approaching an intersection, they came to a sudden halt as a Hyundai pickup truck pulled out and blocked their path. The passenger exited the vehicle with his gun drawn. He approached the Camry and yanked open the back door. Diegert slowly slid out of the car. He kept his hands raised as he knelt on the pavement. The man was shouting at him in Chinese, but Diegert did not need an interpreter. He brought his hands together over his head. The man approached and, with the butt of his pistol, he struck Diegert across the face as he stepped behind him. More angry than hurt, Diegert reacted when he felt hands on his wrists. The American spun with surprising quickness, grabbing the man’s forearm and pulling him forward as he kicked the man’s leg, toppling him head first into the fender of the car. The impact dazed the man allowing Diegert to strip the gun from his hand, stand up and shoot him in the head. Turning to the pickup truck, he fired three rounds, shattering the side window while splattering the interior with the driver’s blood.
The crowded street grew eerily quiet as the gunfire ceased. Jian Wong’s image had no doubt been captured. The story of the friend gone mad would only be embellished by the video posts of this act of violence.
With Diegert in the back seat, the Aussie swerved around the truck, crashed through a fruit stand on the corner, and continued the trip to the airport.
Within fifteen minutes, they reached Husquiong airport. The Camry, with its dented passenger door and crunched rear quarter panel, boldly proce
eded right up to the Gulfstream 650, such was the privilege of the private side of air travel. Checking his phone, Diegert could see the 3D render was 90% complete. Only another two minutes before the image was ready.
Exiting the right side, Diegert rounded the front of the car. “What do I owe you?”
“That’s a nasty gash you’ve got across your cheek,” said the man in his down under accent.
Diegert reached up to his right cheek where he’d been hit with the gun. It stung as he pulled his hand back to see the blood on his fingers. “It’s no big deal. We’ve got to settle up, cause I’m out of here. What do I owe you?”
Gesturing with his finger pointing toward the plane he replied, “Just a flight out of here on your jet.”
Diegert smiled and gave a nervous chuckle. “Look I appreciate the rough driving, but I’m leaving right now.” Holding his phone he said, “Give me your Digival account and I’ll transfer ten thousand.”
Refraining from offering his account information the Aussie said, “Maybe you haven’t been keeping in touch with your superiors, but the deal I made to drive you in and get you out, no questions, was for an airlift out of here.”
Diegert sighed. He recalled how it was a similar jam that put him in the grip of Crepusculous. “All right, get on.” Diegert followed the Aussie and, at the top of the stairs, he leaned in the cockpit. “Let’s get airborne immediately.”
“Sir, I’m sorry to tell you this, but our departure is being delayed,” said the flight captain.
“Why?”
“It has to do with a police investigation.”
“All right, but as soon as we are cleared I want out of here. You got that?”
“Yes sir.”
Turning to his new Australian friend Diegert said, “The delay involves the police. Go ditch that car.”
“Roger that, mate.”
Diegert went to the rear of the plane, put the Do Not Disturb sign on the knob and closed the door to the sleeping cabin. He brought up the transamination app on his phone, merged the 3D image and activated the program. Anxiety kept him from falling asleep, but he lay on the bed hoping to God for twenty uninterrupted minutes.
