by Aiden James
It was something I reflected on repeatedly after we dumped his sleeping ass next to the cleaner of the two dumpsters and drove off in his car. Alistair had almost pissed himself, so the first stop was a Shell station with a restroom. While he was inside, I placed a quick call to Roderick. From there, it was a race against time to reach Sulyn at the hospital.
Chapter 19
It was nearing six o’clock by the time we parked Cedric’s rental in a garage several blocks away from the Adventist Hospital. I hoped for an hour’s head start—two at most. We’d never see his car again, but I decided to keep the Beretta, tucked inside my khakis with my shirt pulled over it. Hopefully I wouldn’t need it, but the way the day was going made me think otherwise.
“Are you cool with everything we discussed?” I led the way, walking swiftly with Alistair right behind me as we navigated through slower pedestrians seemingly unaware the weekend had started. “And, you’ll remember what to watch for with the cops?”
“Got it, Pops.”
I could tell he dreaded this trip to see Cheung Yung-ching. Yesterday’s visit was completely expected, and Alistair knew it would be a pleasant experience long before our arrival. This, however, was an unannounced drop-in that not only could be ill received, but might get us arrested, killed, or both.
So many variables…so many things to go wrong. We had no idea if Sulyn was even there. We assumed the police followed through with what was told to us at the pier. However, Cedric’s sudden hostility made me reconsider everything, beginning with the fact the two ‘detectives’ might not be upstanding members of Hong Kong’s P.D. The only things weighing in their favor were the standard police computer and other equipment in the sedan that Alistair noticed when he walked Sulyn to their car, as well as the back-up patrol cars and four officers accompanying them. They looked legit, but who could say for certain?
As for Roderick, he was already in the area and would find his way onto the seventh floor, where Mr. Cheung had been moved. Apparently a dozen officers from Hong Kong’s finest were stationed throughout the floor. Roderick advised they carried assault rifles in case Kaslow returned. And, yes, Roderick confirmed it was the Russian. Or, rather, it was Kaslow moving through the floor like Arnold Schwarzenegger in The Terminator. It was a miracle that anyone—especially an old man dying from cancer—survived.
“I doubt they’re going to simply let us walk onto the seventh floor without any questions, presentation of identity proof, or some official documentation that supports our presence in Cheung Yung-ching’s company,” worried Alistair, right after we stepped into the elevator.
“That’s why you had better immediately tell them who you are and that you’re there to see Sulyn,” I advised, watching the lights along the top announce each floor we passed. “If she’s unavailable, then you see if Cheung Yung-ching would be willing to visit for just a moment with Dr. Alistair Barrow.”
The elevator chime announced our arrival onto the seventh floor. Before we exited the elevator, I assured him that I had the utmost faith he’d pull this off with aplomb. Truly I did have that confidence, although we could soon face a firing squad of sorts if someone connected with our CIA counterparts caught wind of what I had done to Cedric, forty minutes earlier.
Couldn’t we just head back to ‘Devil’s Fist’ and the famed rock formation ourselves, and not put ourselves at risk like this? Sure…but what would be different the second time from the first? There was something missing…a key ingredient obviously not included in the map itself. The missing element was where Mr. Cheung came in. I felt certain he could either tell us exactly what we were missing, or point us in a solid direction to find it on our own.
As we stepped off the elevator, to our left was a clear hallway, with nurses and orderlies taking care of what looked like normal tasks. To our right, however, a long table blocked all access to that side of the wing. Two police officers sat behind the table, and two others stood on either side. The standing cops carried assault rifles.
Alistair approached the policemen, and all four studied him suspiciously. I drifted a few feet behind him, and his tone carried cheerful confidence as he announced his name and request to see Ms. Cheung Sulyn. But I had grave misgivings when the two sitting officers stood and motioned for their cohorts to approach us, which they did with their weapons pointed at our chests. My heart began to race…then I heard Sulyn’s voice coming from a room roughly fifty feet away. Was it the room where her grandfather presently resided? Another four officers guarded the entrance—one on each side of the open doorway, and two standing across the hallway from them.
“Alistair?! Oh, thank God you’ve come!!”
Sulyn ran down the hall toward the table, where the officers bearing rifles lowered their weapons. I half expected an obligatory frisk—at least upon Alistair as he moved to meet Sulyn, who wrapped her arms around him as if he were her long lost lover instead of the new friend she had known for only a few days. He glanced at me, seemingly just as surprised, but kept the presence of mind to ask for an audience with her grandfather.
“Let me ask him…he might be able to handle a short visit,” she said, and then addressed the police detail looking on. “They are friends of mine and of Cheung Yung-ching.”
The officers nodded, and the two rifle-bearers returned to their guard posts. Sulyn gently pulled away from Alistair, smiling shyly before returning to her grandfather’s latest room. Her lovely brown eyes were swollen and red from her grief, but they still carried the fire that was her determination to persevere.
After a soft conversation with someone whose hoarse whispers were barely audible, she leaned her head into the hallway and motioned for us to join her. I wanted to ask what became of the detectives that brought her to the hospital, but a tall orderly distracted me. I’d noticed him when we first arrived. Before he disappeared inside a room a few doors further down from where Cheung Yung-ching presently resided, the orderly sent a message using an ancient form of Celtic sign language. He did this quickly, beneath the cover of a clipboard he carried.
Sulyn eyed me curiously as we met her at the doorway, and I realized the wan smile on my face might’ve pointed to insensitivity, instead of the quiet admiration that inspired it.
Roderick’s disguise was quite clever. I intended to compliment him for his masterful effort to transform himself from a ghostly druid into an Asian with most of the characteristics indigenous to the southern region of China. He’d perfected such skills in centuries past, and prefers ancient cloaking skills to modern technology. His message was for me to meet him on the main floor, and to look for the storage closet near the ER’s waiting area.
“I thank you for speaking to your grandfather on our behalf,” I told Sulyn, as she motioned for us to go to his side. Similar to the last time Alistair and I visited with him, four bodyguards kept watch, one in each corner of the room. I didn’t recognize any of the four young men from the last time Mr. Cheung held an audience with us. “What became of your detective escorts?”
“They left soon after our arrival here, about an hour ago,” she said. “They should be back sometime in the next half hour, I believe.” She sounded hopeful, so they must have been good to her and her grandfather.
Great. It left us about twenty minutes to learn what we came for and get the hell out of there. The detectives may or may not be good guys, but a call from the U.S. government to the Hong Kong authorities could spell trouble. Especially, if anyone in D.C. labeled me as a violent threat to law and order. That would make things extremely dicey. Our best hope was for Cedric to remain unconscious and unaccounted for.
Maybe I should’ve made sure he stayed out of service for several hours. It now seemed glaringly foolish to leave him out in the open as we did. I couldn’t bring myself to harm him any worse than I had.
“We thank you, Mr. Cheung, for agreeing to meet with us,” said Alistair, after we approached his bedside. He seemed extremely frail—much more fragile than yesterday. His hair bore a lot
more white than when we last spoke with him. “William and I are so very sorry for your loss.”
Cheung nodded slightly and motioned for Sulyn to help him sit up more. “The blonde devil with the glowing eyes came here…. He told me things…terrible things he would do to Sulyn when he found her,” he said.
His voice was hoarse, and I noticed the bruised finger impressions around his larynx. In addition to the bullet wound just above his heart, which wept into the heavy gauze wrapped around his chest, it appeared Kaslow had tortured this helpless dying man in his attempts to learn more about Sulyn’s whereabouts. Swelling on both cheeks indicated backhand slaps, which seemed to be every Russian pussy’s favorite starting point for inflicting a steady escalation of physical discomfort.
“Did he tell you why he wanted to burn down your home?” I wanted to get to the root cause of what Kaslow was after as swiftly as possible. I did say the words with as much compassion as I could muster.
Cheung Yung-ching eyed me curiously, likely wondering how I’d know this would be an important thing for my nemesis to mention. I’m sure most folks would assume the ruthless murder of three children under the age of seven would be what a demon would want to gloat about. But this was not about bragging rights, and it’s important to keep in mind that Kaslow has killed thousands of people in his sordid history on earth. I would venture to say he hardly thinks about the death toll or the make-up of his victims anymore. The burning of an esteemed estate with a meaningful history of its own would be something he might mention. But only if the destruction wasn’t the fulfillment Kaslow sought.
“He mentioned your name…William Barrow. He said he found my secret and that you would need it to find yours,” he said, drawing perplexed expressions from not just me. Sulyn and Alistair’s brows were as furrowed as my own. “He demanded to know where Sulyn was, and I said I would never tell him.”
Mr. Cheung may well have some terrible skeletons hiding in his closet, but in no way was this man a coward. Defying Kaslow in his mortal state was an unenviable endeavor, and to do so after this soulless human had become un-killable took more courage than I believe most human beings possess. Maybe that sort of thing comes when death’s door is already in view. I nodded respectfully and hoped my slight smile was taken as sincere admiration.
“Grandfather…what secret was he talking about?” said Sulyn. Her voice was almost as hushed as his, as if she loathed asking the question. “Is it something on the list?”
List? What list?!
“He never told me, but he knows you have the map,” he said to her. “It must have something to do with the map…. Perhaps he was talking about the golden stylus.”
“Do you mean the one you allowed Lao Wee Kiat James to catalogue for the convention?”
“Yes…that one. I later changed my mind about it. Do you remember?”
“Yes, I remember.”
The color drained from Sulyn’s face, and the way her eyes darted back and forth told me how her mind was splicing together several recent and important scenes in her head.
“Oh, my God!” she whispered, sadly. “James was the only one to know of its existence. I tried to call him earlier today. There was no answer….”
In all likelihood, Kaslow had gotten to him first and then moved on to the Cheung family. It made sense, when also considering my voyeur experience from last night. Once Kaslow figured out who had the map, it was fairly safe to assume he passed the information on to his boss. Morrow certainly had scrutinized the same list of items Alistair and I had seen a few months ago when the convention was first announced. Could the unscrupulous dealer have coerced the earlier list from Lao Wee Kiat James?
“I never trusted him,” said her grandfather, his expression far more pained than his tone. “His carelessness has betrayed us all.”
We now had an entirely new plethora of questions to explore, but our visiting time was running out. Cheung Yung-ching struggled to keep his eyes open, and it would be ill-advised to continue our interview. Besides, my phone had buzzed an instant ago. Not wanting to be rude, I casually peeked at the screen and wasn’t surprised there was a text message from Roderick. I was, however, surprised by what it said.
“William…. LEAVE NOW! Detectives returned…. The Company sent three armed Spooks…. They are casing the main floor and will be up in a moment. Meet me on the fourth floor.”
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Cheung, but Alistair and I must leave now.”
“What?!”
“No time to explain, Dad, but the enemy is on its way!”
Thankfully, that’s all it took to get Alistair moving. He was ready to bolt out of the room.
“Sulyn, do you still have the map with you?”
She looked confused, both by what we’d just learned from her grandfather, and certainly my sudden switch to survival mode. But she managed to give me a positive nod.
“Good. Tell no one about it, and wait for our call.”
I didn’t wait for her response, and carefully peered out into the hallway. The attendant cops’ demeanor was the same as it had been earlier. That was good…they likely weren’t aware of what was going on. But that could change at any moment.
I motioned for Alistair to follow me to the stairs, away from the police table-blockade. Just before we reached it, I heard the chime from the elevators behind us. Trouble had arrived.
* * *
We wasted little time racing to the fourth floor. Good thing, since excited voices exited the seventh floor as we stepped onto the fourth. My biggest worry was being identified while searching for Roderick. Fortunately, his preternatural intuitions told him where we were, and he pulled us into an unoccupied room near the stairs.
Still dressed as an orderly, the Asian attributes were remarkable up close. Even his cheekbones had pushed upward. But as I studied him after he closed the door and pressed his ear against it to listen, I saw the immortal I’ve come to know so well these past two millennia.
The best way I can describe this is that it’s sort of like a blurred double image, and if one focuses long enough on it they’ll see the hidden picture behind the illusion. I found Alistair’s reaction quite amusing. He stared at Roderick as if he couldn’t help himself, wearing an expression of disbelief and childlike fascination.
After a few tense moments of listening to footfalls racing past the door, Roderick quietly locked it and turned to face us.
“We won’t have long to talk. I have a plan to get you both out of here,” he said. His voice carried richness in person that often reminds me of listening to an audio book. At least that’s the way it projects in a small room such as the one we were in. I caught Alistair looking around him as Roderick spoke. No doubt this was a creepy experience for my boy, and I recalled how weird Roderick’s voice seemed when the former Highlander and I first conversed in the wilderness near Salisbury Plain in the second century. “You both will need to remove your clothes and put on the Johnny shirts I laid out for you.”
“Did you know Cedric tried to kill us today?” I asked him.
Alistair had already begun to undress, and Roderick motioned for me to hurry up and join him.
“Hmmm…did you happen to check the bullets after you tapped him out?”
“No, I didn’t,” I said, while tying the shirt behind me. “The gun was loaded, which was good enough for me.”
“You rightfully believe that Cedric was sent to interrupt your search for the Mantle of Genghis Khan and your latest beloved coin. But, why did you assume he wanted you dead?”
Wasn’t it frigging obvious?
“Maybe because he had the Beretta waiting under his thigh, with the safety off and ready to shoot us,” I replied, testily. “Do I have to wait for a frigging declaration to know my kid and I are in danger?”
He chuckled in response and eyed Alistair with some amusement. He held out his hand to him.
“Roderick Cooley,” he said.
“Alistair Barrow,” said my boy, still wearing a fascinat
ed look as he studied Roderick’s face as the details subtly shifted. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
“Likewise.”
“Okay, now that we’ve got the ‘This is your life’ segment taken care of, how about an answer to my question?”
“Why don’t you test the gun yourself?”
I hated his smugness, almost as much as Cedric’s from the other night. And this guy made it so much worse, since I had no doubt he was plucking my random thoughts out of the air like ripe cherries from a mature tree. I don’t believe in psychics, per se, but Roderick’s intuitions have always been annoyingly sharp.
“Maybe I should shoot you, huh?”
“Be my guest.” He grinned. “That is, if you don’t mind putting me to sleep.”
What?!
I picked up the handgun from inside my clothes piled on the room’s single bed, and opened the clip chamber.
Shit!
“That’s right…the weapon is armed only with tranquillizer darts,” said Roderick. “Now that you’ve learned that fun fact, I’m sure I’ll have your complete attention for what I’m about to tell you next.”
He didn’t have to be a smart-ass about it. Well, maybe he did a little, since my bullheaded assumptions had almost led me to murder Agent Cedric Tomlinson—my former boss and friend for nearly a quarter of a century.
Roderick went on to explain that Cedric had been told to get me and Alistair out of the country tonight, as things had gotten far too dangerous to continue now that Viktor Kaslow was on a mass murder spree. The agency now considered sending another Navy Seal team or a drone to assassinate Christian Morrow and anyone else around him with Syrian connections. I’m sure that order will include an attempt to blow up Kaslow if the Seals can isolate him long enough for the hit.
