by Aiden James
She held out her arm and I took it, gently, escorting her to my boy who met my gaze with a slightly jealous one. He had nothing to fear, as I’d never do anything to knowingly hurt him.
Me bowing out seemed to suit my son and Sulyn just fine, and before long the personal guard who disappeared returned with a small wait staff that prepared a table for us on the deck. So, the afternoon began with a light lunch and fine Chardonnay, and before long we had visited three islands of the many that surround Hong Kong.
I had forgotten the beautiful lagoons and almost surreal beauty in this part of the world. However, I would’ve enjoyed it more if the threat of danger hadn’t been hovering over our heads. Three helicopters passed over us, which raised more than a tiny bit of suspicion our progress was being tracked. It seemed excessive, where a subtle approach would be more in line with the goal of catching us holding the prize.
It kept me looking out to the sea around us, for as far as my gaze would reach. But for now, Kaslow’s voyeur tricks had yet to resume.
Finally, after a few hours spent enjoying our playful ruse, we returned to the channel and approached the famed monuments that marked our destination. Alistair commented on how crazy it was that something so prominent and ‘touristy’ would mark the spot where two of the most legendary and destructive objects lay at rest.
I’m sure he had a lot to say about the subject, since he held Sulyn’s rapt attention. However, I listened to something else, as the pull of my blood coin began to send the familiar trembling sensations up and down my left arm. It was here. Whether it meant inside the cave or not would have to be determined, but the sucker was within the span of a football field from our boat and the incredible formations before us.
It would be a tough sell we were simply enjoying the final stop of our sightseeing tour and wanted a brief look around. This would especially be true if the sensation turned painful for me. It doesn’t always happen, but sometimes the bloodier coins with the most deaths upon them bring a stiffer penalty for my efforts to reclaim them from the world.
A handful of chartered boats were anchored near the shoreline. Roughly two-dozen tourists mulled around the spot where we hoped to find our mysterious cave. Would there be room for all of us inside? Such a humorous musing could turn into a deadly prophecy if my Soviet enemy caught wind of what was here—regardless of the significant number of innocent people loitering near the cave entrance.
“What should we do?” asked Sulyn, staring out at the group that apparently found something their tour guide said to be quite funny. Nearly another dozen people were climbing along the rocks.
“We should go ahead with our plan,” I said. “If the passageway to the cave is where it should be, and we see clear evidence of it, we’ll come back later tonight. We will know what to look for under flashlights, instead of having to search for clues in the dark.”
“And if it isn’t here?”
I couldn’t believe Alistair bothered asking such a question, since it could only mean the map was inaccurate. We had nothing else to go by, other than my innate ‘coin sense’.
“Let’s go,” I said, ignoring his question.
We were close enough that I didn’t wait to be pampered with a dinghy moving slowly to the shore. I dove into the shallow water and swam to the shoreline, pleased the water’s temperature was warmer than expected. I soon heard Sulyn and Alistair splashing through the water to catch up with me. I stepped out of the water and casually cut a path through the tour groups. The coin’s pull had grown heavier…it was tantalizingly close.
Barely able to concentrate, I looked back at the massive fist rising out of the shallow water, the surf crashing softly against it. The middle finger easy to determine, I looked around to where the ‘back knuckle’ faced. I saw…nothing. Nothing immediately obvious.
I moved up closer to the sedimentary rock wall. If a doorway was concealed, there should be at least minute cracks to define it. Unless the doorway was camouflaged in some other fashion…perhaps supernaturally? The damned giant finger might as well literally flip me off.
“Do you sense where the doorway is on this thing…William?”
Alistair almost called me ‘Pops’ in front of Sulyn. Glad he didn’t, since I was having an increasingly difficult time trying to pinpoint the origin point of my coin’s call to me. It came from somewhere below the earth’s surface, although not directly beneath our feet. It was maddening.
“No, I don’t,” I confessed, releasing a low sigh.
Without clearer clues to work with, we were screwed. I allowed my gaze to scan the rock wall again. Still nothing, even when I lined it up with the frigging middle finger again.
“Maybe we should look around a little more…check more of the area,” Sulyn suggested. Hers was the most beautifully forced smile I’ve ever seen. At least she was sticking to my ruse instructions. “There is a path over here….we can walk behind—huh?”
We all heard it at the same time. One of Sulyn’s bodyguards that remained on the yacht was holding the receiver from the ship’s telephone. He called urgently for her to return to the ship. It had something to do with a shooting at her grandfather’s estate. Something else was said, too, but I couldn’t make it out.
Cheung Sulyn could well be the most in-control, vivacious young woman I’ve known in some time. Whatever my sparse translation had missed of the hurried shouts in Chinese from her personal protector, she understood fully. Her refined façade disintegrated, and she ran screaming to the yacht, with Alistair and me close behind her.
In that instant, I fully understood what Viktor Kaslow’s ‘voyeur’ absence from our afternoon excursion meant. He had been busy taking care of other business…very busy, as it turned out.
Chapter 18
I believe nearly all of us have certain situations where no matter how hard we try, we invariably say the wrong thing. My shortcomings come up most often in the area of comforting those who grieve. My heart aches terribly for others—particularly when the innocent suffer. In the past, my heart has grown heavy enough that I’ve dropped to my knees and wept for days in agony. Yet, even though I feel this way, more often than not when I open my mouth something cold and callous comes out, instead of the overwhelming compassion I most often feel.
It’s what happened that late Friday afternoon in Hong Kong, where the summer’s unforgiving sun was almost unnoticeable in light of Sulyn’s profound grief as she wept on the deck floor. Alistair held her tenderly in his arms, comforting Sulyn as best he could for her terrible loss. It wasn’t the words themselves but the way he said them that drew her closer to him, as they sat together. I looked on helplessly from nearby.
I had told her how terribly sorry I was for the loss of three family members, but the words sounded shallow…and not just to me. I felt numb, but it was based more on anger than grief. For the moment, all I wanted to do was find a way to destroy Viktor Kaslow for yet another terrible crime in his illustrious career of wickedness that seemed destined to never end. There would be time to deal with such anger, and it needed to come later.
I hated myself for my glib response—and trust me, I know it came across terribly. Even her guards gave me an odd look, and surely they weren’t strangers to expressing themselves without an ounce of emotion.
But at least Alistair was there for her, making his initial move to catch her as she fainted, right after we stepped back onto the yacht. Her closest protector had just informed Sulyn that her two young nieces and nephew had been gunned down in Cheung Yung-ching’s palatial mansion in the hills overlooking the city. Those killings were in addition to the four guards, kitchen help, maid and butler that were on the property at the time. Thirteen deaths in all, and afterward the one hundred and fifty-year-old building was torched.
Details were hard to come by, and it took almost the entire trip back to Tolo Harbour to determine exactly what had taken place. The attack happened shortly after Sulyn and part of her grandfather’s staff—including the kid, Stephen, w
ho picked us up that afternoon—had left the estate. Police were already on the scene looking for clues, and Sulyn had been advised that officers were waiting for our return to the pier. Apparently, they were making a rare move to place her in protective custody after another attack soon followed the first one, roughly an hour before our arrival at Wong Chuk Kok Tsui.
The fifth floor at the Adventist Hospital was the recipient of this second assault, and only a kill shot barely missing its mark kept Cheung Yung-ching among the living. His bodyguards and the nurses on duty at the time didn’t survive the violence. Only a young orderly, who hid beneath the nurse station, lived to tell what happened. He described the lone gunman as ‘a tall blonde man with unusual blue eyes’.
I would’ve remained ignorant of these details, if not for Sulyn’s tearful relating to Alistair what happened at the estate and hospital. Ignorant, that is, until Cedric could also bring me up to date on the latest news. He stood on the pier with two local homicide detectives when the ship returned.
“The detectives have requested that you and I go downtown with Cedric and wait for them to join us,” I told Alistair. He had continued to comfort Sulyn as the police contingent boarded the yacht. He looked up at me with reddened eyes from grief. “Sulyn is going with them to see her grandfather, who has requested to see her.”
“Please come with me—please!” Sulyn implored him.
It broke my heart to see her overwhelming distress. Who wouldn’t be on the verge of a complete breakdown upon learning most of their family had been suddenly taken away by senseless violence? It sounded like Cheung Yung-ching was on the verge of joining them in the after life. Very soon it could be Sulyn and her brother, presently in the Hawaiian Islands, left to carry on the Cheung family legacy.
“I don’t think they’ll let me,” said my boy, looking longingly at me to come up with something after he shot a disdainful glance at Cedric and the detectives. “If not, I promise to come to the hospital as soon as they finish with us.”
Alistair must’ve been expecting a quick interview and for us to be released. However, the pained expression on Cedric’s face foretold a worse experience was in store. Not that he intended to harm us—I didn’t get that from him at all. But, something was up. I doubted we still had free rein to find the mantle, as indicated last night. The mass murders had changed the rules and stakes of the ‘find the coin and mantle mission’.
You might not believe me when I claim to have been more concerned about what happened to Sulyn’s family…but I was. Remember what I mentioned a while back, about preventing Christian Morrow from obtaining the Mantle of Genghis Khan was just as important as recovering my tainted silver shekel? In the depths of my soul I realized Sulyn’s personal well-being was tied to it all. Viktor Kaslow’s murderous rampage was obviously in response to his American boss’s determination to collect his prize at all costs, and to get the job done quickly. That prize’s location remained largely under her control, since she carried the map. No doubt, Kaslow was looking for it when he descended on the estate. The only aspect confusing to me is why he burned the place afterward…what was he trying to hide? Did he find something else he wanted to make sure someone like me never knew about?
“What would it hurt for Alistair to accompany Sulyn to the hospital?” I asked Cedric. It might be foolish to let him out of my sight, but something told me he’d be okay for now. Kaslow had moved on to somewhere else. “It might make it easier on everyone getting to the bottom of what happened. Besides, Alistair has established good rapport with Cheung Yung-ching.”
“No, it’s too dangerous, and I’ve been instructed to get you both out of harm’s way,” said Cedric, eyeing the detectives as if this had been previously discussed. “I’m taking you someplace safe for now, and you both will return to the States with Michael and me tonight.”
Normally, I would’ve balked, since I presently held an entirely different take on the situation and what we should do about it. But, maybe Cedric was right…maybe I should be focused on getting my kid to safety and not put anyone else’s life in danger. Hell, I could always come back to Hong Kong by myself and finish the job later. After all, I now knew where the coin was located. If I had to use an industrial drill to bore through Wong Chuk Kok Tsui’s rock wall to reach it, then so be it.
Cedric allowed Alistair to escort Sulyn, and her two personal guards to the detective’s sedan. Then he climbed into the modest Mazda he’d rented, motioning for Alistair to take the front seat and for me to get in the back.
“This ride’s perfect for laying low,” he said, after noticing my smirk in the rearview mirror. “So, do you still have the map with you?”
We had just pulled onto the main thoroughfare heading toward Hong Kong’s immense skyline.
“I never had it to begin with…neither does Alistair.”
He glanced worriedly at me. I’m sure he would’ve liked to have that look back. “Well, then, where is it? Does Ms. Cheung have it with her?”
“Not necessarily,” I said, pausing to cast a casual glance out my window. I didn’t care for the agenda behind the questions, and I started to worry. Maybe my assumption of being safe in Cedric’s presence was premature. I steadied my breathing to keep him unaware of my increased wariness. “Since we couldn’t make heads or tails of the map’s details today, I think she might’ve left it on the ship.”
“Or, when she got frustrated with the damned thing’s ineffectiveness, she might’ve tossed it overboard at one of the islands we visited,” added Alistair. “I saw her throw something overboard.”
Nicely done, son. Alistair picked up on the same bullshit …. For the moment, I couldn’t have been more proud. In truth, Sulyn did throw something overboard at the first island. I believe it was the remainder of her wine, since she was feeling a little light headed.
Now for the fun part…I couldn’t remember if the map was left on the boat, or if she had her bag with her when she joined the detectives in their sedan. It was definitely in the bag, though. Meanwhile, the Mazda was slowing down, which indicated our driver was getting ready to turn around. Alistair’s and my value on the plane of the living had just gone into a volatile swing. Roderick’s warning about my life’s worth to the CIA’s leadership resounded loudly in my head. Was Cedric planning on taking us someplace to be disposed of, if he had confirmed that either Alistair or I had the map in our possession?
I glanced at my boy. A single stream of sweat coursed along his temple. It wasn’t from the heat, since the car’s A.C. had quickly cooled the interior. He was nervous, and perhaps sensed the same predicament I’d picked up on. From what I could see of Cedric, his face bore none of the characteristics of my kid’s present state. He was still in control…but I saw anger in his eyes.
Suddenly, he pulled a u-turn and raced back toward the pier.
“I thought we were headed ‘someplace safe’ downtown?” I said, coolly.
Yes, I wanted my tone to intimidate. I was onto him. Maybe I didn’t fully understand the scheme, but I sure as hell smelled the danger to me and especially my boy. Like a momma grizzly bear, I was prepared to take out the threat, and hoped Cedric fully considered what my immortality meant. I already knew he was armed—maybe not with the same gun I saw the other night, but with some weapon. If he were to fail to hit me, or at least miss a vital organ, he would soon be face to face with me, wearing an empty death stare while his body still sat forward in the driver seat.
Cedric didn’t reply. The cat and mouse contest in full gear, I knew beyond any doubt that Alistair and I were in grave danger. But, not knowing for certain if my boy understood just how quickly things could turn violent with someone we’ve known heretofore as a friend, I had to plot things calmly…and quickly.
“What if I were to tell you exactly where I hid the map?”
This was risky. If he didn’t take the bait and decided I was lying, the upper hand would be Cedric’s. He studied me carefully for a moment, but let up slightly on the gas. This w
as good, although I couldn’t help but grin—mainly at my kid’s white-knuckle grip on his door handle. Racing at nearly seventy on a city street can do that to you.
“You’re bluffing.”
“No, sadly I’m not,” I said, keeping my eyes fixed on his through the rearview mirror. Alistair shot me a worried look, which was exactly the card I needed to complete my hand. “But, if it’s worth it to you to know, then you need to pull over and let my son out of the car. Otherwise, you can explain to Michael, Paul, or any other asshole you’re in bed with as to how you fucked this up. No cooperation on your part, and you had better pray Viktor and Christian don’t have a party someday dancing around your Virginian family’s graves. You got that?”
The pause in his response was agonizingly long…much longer than I hoped or expected. But, just when I thought he wouldn’t swipe at my baited hook, he suddenly swerved into a shaded alley and pulled over, not far from a pair of garbage receptacles. One was overflowing with trash from a nearby restaurant, but the other was closed. Could be enough room for one or two corpses.
I had hoped Cedric would either tell my boy to immediately get out of the car and hoof it, or that Alistair would take the initiative and just flee. But, the poor kid didn’t even have his seatbelt off yet.
Since I had no idea how this would go, I decided to take matters in my own hand. The skills that have earned me nefarious employment through the centuries provided the slightest advantage over an armed and seasoned intelligence agent—even one with decades of experience and awards for being among the best at his craft.
I had already removed my seatbelt with nary a click when Cedric made his move into the alley. In the split second that followed Alistair’s hesitation and Cedric’s calculated reach for his pistol, I had already locked his neck in my grasp. It would be an easy turn of his vertebrae to snap it and end his life in an instant.
But, instead, I leveled fierce pressure against his windpipe to render him unconscious. By then he had removed the Beretta with a silencer on the end from beneath his thigh. It had been armed and ready to do his bidding from the moment he sat down in the driver seat of his Mazda rental, while using his jovial tone to encourage my kid and me to join him in the car. I almost used the gun on him right then as I considered this.
