Skeleton Women

by Mingmei Yip

  “Good! Find him soon!” his boss said, waving a dismissive hand. “Now let’s finish our breakfast.”

  To distract the gangster head later that night, I had no choice but to offer yet another variation of my perverse, contortionist sex. Fortunately nothing came of Lung’s well-founded suspicion that he had been pushed overboard. Perhaps he was so infatuated with me and addicted to my sexual bonanza that he never pursued the investigation. Although Zhu did ask the captain for the ship’s passenger list, fortunately he couldn’t find anything suspicious. So finally, to my tremendous relief, the matter was dropped.

  After a month’s imprisonment on the boundless sea, we finally arrived in huadu, the Flower Metropolis. Paris. When we stepped off the ship onto dry land, a stretch limousine was waiting to take us straight to our first destination, the Hotel Plaza Athénée in Paris’s eighth arrondissement. Though my mind was burdened with a hundred shadowy thoughts, my eyes couldn’t help but brighten beholding this famous city. Wide boulevards and cobblestone streets were lined with thick-foliaged trees casting dancing shadows on the fair-skinned, sharp-featured Parisians. Elegant, svelte ladies in body-hugging dresses with matching hats, gloves, and parasols were accompanied by dark-suited, straight-backed gentlemen. Green-roofed low buildings decorated with crawling vines and intricately patterned windows all beckoned me closer to explore what lay within.

  I stuck my head out of the car and filled my lungs with the Parisian air, as the breeze caressed my face with an exotic massage.

  Lung cast me a smug look as he squeezed my hand. “Like what you’re seeing so far, Camilla?”

  “Of course, Master Lung. Thank you so much for bringing me here!”

  “I’ll bring you anywhere as long as you behave” was the boss’s teasing answer.

  An hour later, our car pulled up in front of the famous Plaza Athénée. As we walked toward its grand entrance, the first thing I noticed was that its name had commas raining on the first two e’s. These “raindrops” made the hotel impossible for me to pronounce, even with my “heavenly” voice.

  I’d been to a lot of high-class places in Shanghai, but nothing like this hotel, which was truly fit for a king or queen. In our case, the underground King Lung and me, as his queen of the moment. Outside, the grand building had balconies protruding like pregnant bellies. Pink blossoms crawled along the iron grillwork, unwilling to let go, like a baby’s umbilical cord fastened to its mother’s womb. On these outcroppings pretty women appeared and disappeared. One gazed meditatively onto the street below, a cigarette between her dainty fingers as smoke drifted up from her pouty lips. Another gazed deeply into a man’s eyes as if they were engaged in a staring contest. I wondered, who were these women? Wives, mistresses, courtesans, and perhaps even a spy or two like me?

  Uniformed doormen ushered us in with low bows. Inside, the grandiose Western décor dazzled me with its walls, pillars, and floor of polished marble, its golden velvet curtains, lush, reddish-gold carpets, and huge chandeliers shooting out sparks to further glorify the rich and powerful. Who could afford such lavishness? I assumed royalty, aristocrats, multimillionaire businessmen, and probably more than a few French gangsters.

  The whole effect was of shi, overwhelming presence, the principle emphasized over and over in The Art of War. Had this hotel’s architect, like me, been an avid reader of the famous military treatise?

  In the lobby, we appreciated the décor before we were shown to our rooms. A few Western guests cast us curious glances, then nodded and smiled at me appreciatively.

  Pausing at the door to his suite, Lung said to Zhu, his son, and me, “All of you come to my suite at six for a pre-dinner drink.” Then he turned to Gao. “You and the others can take turns guarding my room. But don’t be too obvious, you got it?”

  “Of course, Master Lung,” Gao replied.

  For the visit to Lung’s booked-months-ahead luxury suite, I put on an ankle-length plain purple dress with a plunging neckline. The minimal design was intentional, so people’s eyes would be directed to my bulging breasts instead of silly frills, lace, or tassels created by some dressmaker. However, to add an interesting touch to the simple dress, I threw a pink feather boa across my shoulders at an artistic angle. This created a peek-a-boo effect with my pulsing half-moons. Finally, a camellia pinned behind my ear completed my carefully orchestrated songstress-seductress look.

  Walking toward Lung’s suite, I saw Gao and another bodyguard talking and smoking in a corner. Once he spotted me, Gao knocked lightly on the door and let me in.

  This was my first time inside a luxury suite in a foreign country. The whole room was energized by its harmonious blend of orange, beige, and gold. Against one wall was a chaise longue, a piece of elongated heaven for the wealthy and spoiled to relax on this evil earth. In the middle of the room stood a low, gilded table on which were placed a big bowl of fruit, small plates of assorted chocolates, and a ceramic vase filled with pink orchids. Behind the table on a gold-bordered sofa sat Lung and his son. Zhu was nearby, smoking and looking restless.

  Lung motioned me to sit beside him. Soundlessly, a white-gloved, black-tuxedoed waiter materialized and set down a silver ice bucket in which nestled a bottle of Dom Pérignon. I was sure Zhu had paid the young waiter a tip as generous as the glimpse of my breasts above my plunging neckline, for the latter bowed deeply as he backed out of the room.

  After gulping down some Champagne, Lung leaned over toward me to inhale my special fragrance. “You smell nice, Camilla. Any special place you want to see in Paris tomorrow?”

  “What about shopping along the Champs-Élysées?” I asked in an eager tone, trying to sound like a child asking to be taken to a candy store.

  I caught Jinying’s knit brow; perhaps he was disappointed that I did not ask for something more cultural, such as the opera or concert hall. But my real motive was not simply to be treated to expensive fashions but also to put Lung into an exposed position.

  The boss laughed. “You girls never get tired of shopping, do you?”

  “Just like Master Lung never gets tired of making money!”

  He reached to touch my face. “Ha! I’m sure if there was a glib-tongue contest, even if you took second, no one would dare to claim first prize.”

  I laughed, not just to please Lung but to jiggle my exposed breasts. As expected, all three men’s eyes fixated on my half-moons as they exercised their fox trot.

  “Thank you Master Lung. If my tongue is washed in oil, then yours is soaked in Champagne.”

  Jinying’s brow continued to knit. Finally he blurted out, “Father, maybe we should go to the opera one night.”

  I didn’t like the idea, because there would be little chance in such a public place to finish my assignment of finishing off Lung. But I smiled anyway. “I’m sure Young Master is dying to have his ears greased by the heavenly voice of all the excellent singers in Paris. He has such exquisite taste.”

  Lung looked at his son appreciatively. “Of course he has. But as you know, I don’t want to hear those slaughtering-the-chicken, scratching-the-pan, ghost-scraping-the-coffin, foreign voices. Camilla, since Jinying is an opera fan and you the Heavenly Songbird, why don’t you do me a favor by accompanying my son to the opera for just one night?”

  Jinying exclaimed, “Thank you, Father, I’d love to!”

  Zhu immediately offered, “Then I’ll book the best seats.”

  To my relief, after dinner Lung didn’t demand sex but retired to his suite. Back in my own room, I sat on the sofa in my bathrobe with Champagne flute in hand and racked my brain. My trip to Paris was to complete a mission, not to be entertained. So far, befriending Jinying hadn’t seemed to aid my cause, and I feared time was running out.

  What to do? I looked out the window and silently prayed, “Please, heaven, help me!”

  Then my eyes landed on the Eiffel Tower shimmering in the Parisian lights. Tonight, instead of going out to have fun in this beautiful, exotic city, I was sitting in a luxur
ious but lonely hotel room with nothing to think about but arranging a murder. What kind of life was this for a nineteen-year-old girl? Sadly I began to hum the song “Family Happiness”:

  Everyone has a father, but not me.

  Everyone has a mother, but not me.

  White clouds leisurely float by, the river flows east,

  The fledgling bird returns to its nest to find it already gone.

  When I long for home, there is no boat to take me there.

  I cry till all my tears dry.

  We all lose our parents... . So many tragedies in this world!

  Singing to myself, I fell asleep, only to be awakened by urgent knocking on my door. I rushed to open it and saw Jinying’s flushed face.

  Fearing that he might be seen, I had no choice but to pull him in.

  “Jinying, again? What’s wrong with you? You can’t just keep coming to my room like this!”

  Once the door was closed, he tried to kiss me, but I pushed him away. “Where are the others?” I asked.

  “Don’t worry, they’re in my father’s room discussing business they don’t want me to know about. That’s why I came.”

  “Please leave right away. You’re playing with fire!”

  “Calm down. Their meeting will take at least an hour.”

  He took my hand and led me to gaze out the window at the glittering Eiffel Tower. “Look, Camilla, and see the beautiful and romantic world out there. Why are we suffering instead of enjoying ourselves?”

  “Because we were born in the wrong place and at the wrong time.”

  “Don’t be so pessimistic.” He turned to look me in the eye. “Camilla, a sweet girl like you, why are you willing to be my father’s mistress?”

  “I told you why. You think I can turn down Shanghai’s most powerful gangster?”

  He looked hurt and angry, then silently muttered, “I hate him.”

  I blurted out, “Me, too ...” and immediately regretted it.

  “Did he... .”

  “Don’t ask.”

  “Why don’t we run away?”

  I chuckled nervously. “Jinying, I haven’t known anyone who could escape through the cracks of your father’s fingers. So what makes you think we can?”

  “I’ll come up with a plan.”

  “All right,” I said sarcastically, “then let me know when you have one, Young Master.”

  Some silence followed before he spoke again, a little breathlessly. “Camilla, you remember Peony Pavilion?”

  “Of course.”

  “The scholar’s love for Liniang was strong enough to resurrect her from the grave. So I know my love for you can find a way out for us.”

  I didn’t respond, letting the rich young man drown in his own impossible dreams.

  As Jinying was about to go on, to our alarm, we heard knocking at the door.

  My heart skipped a beat. “Jinying, quick, hide—it must be your father!”

  “How do you know? Did you order room service?”

  I didn’t have time for arguing, so I gave him a hard push. “Hide on the balcony, quick!”

  He dashed over, and I pulled the curtains so he was hidden from sight.

  I rushed to open the door and saw Lung and Gao. After I let them in, the boss sat down on the bed, then signaled his bodyguard to check the closet and bathroom.

  “I’m too excited by all the business talk. So, Camilla, you know what I want.”

  Soon Gao came back to report, “Master Lung, the place is clean.”

  Lung waved a dismissive hand. “All right, then, you can go.”

  The bodyguard cast me a sad glance.

  I bit my lip as my heart roared like thunder. Damn, I’d just lost another chance. Lung had asked Gao to search the room but not me! But even if I’d had a weapon on my person, how could I kill the father when the son was right in the same room? Even if I did, how could I escape? Fortunately neither Lung nor Gao had realized that there was a balcony behind the floor-length curtains.

  Right after Gao closed the door behind him, I immediately went to sit on Lung’s lap and conjured up my best smile. “Maser Lung, how come you still don’t trust me? Look.” I wriggled my water-snake waist. “Do you think someone like me could harm anyone? Especially you? “

  He caressed my cheek with his murderous hand. “I know, I know. But, Camilla, a habit of thirty-odd years is hard to change. Besides, it’s not that I don’t trust you. I just don’t trust any situation.”

  I could feel my heart beating like a hammer on an anvil. To distract Lung from noticing anything unusual, I pressed my lips urgently against his. My hand, like a poor child’s, reached into his pants to play with his sex as if it were my only toy.

  His face flushed, and his eyes burned as he pulled open my bathrobe. I immediately pulled it back, suddenly feeling modest.

  Lung laughed. “Ha, Camilla, are you suddenly shy, or is this a new tactic to tease me? I like that!”

  Yes, I did feel shy. But why? Lung was not a refined or handsome man but an old rogue who knew nothing about love or romance, only extorting money, cheating, killing, and, of course, fucking. But who was I to judge? Although I didn’t know much about extorting money, did I really know anything about love and romance?

  This time I felt disgusted by Lung’s slobbering kisses and artless squeezing. And I suddenly realized I felt shy because Jinying might be watching us from the balcony. He might be witnessing the woman he loved dearly carrying on dirty business with the father he hated bitterly.

  All right, since I had missed my chance to kill the father, what about playing the son against his father? Would he kill his old man for me? I didn’t think so. He might warn his father instead, so doing anything to provoke him was out of the question.

  I used all my willpower to seem to respond passionately to Lung’s groping and pinching. I moaned and groaned as if I truly enjoyed his wrinkled lips and callous fingers. When we were completely naked, Lung, as expected, wanted contortion sex. Aware of Jinying’s burning eyes, I couldn’t do it.

  But I needed an excuse.

  I said, “Master Lung, I hurt my leg when I tripped earlier in the day, so I really can’t do that tonight, but I promise I’ll do whatever you want after my leg recovers.”

  He looked disappointed but grudgingly said, “All right. You need to see a doctor for that?”

  I threw him a flirtatious smile. “I’ll be okay; it just needs some rest.” Then I repaid his “kindness” by again passionately kissing him on his lips as if he were my true and only love. My hands assisted by playing all sorts of naughty games with his swelling sex. Because I was imagining Jinying’s burning eyes and eager ears on us, I didn’t do as good a job as usual, but I trusted Lung to be too excited to notice.

  Finally, after our artless war of sex, the gangster put on his clothes. “Camilla, get well soon. You know what I want.”

  “Of course, Master Lung.”

  After that, he gave my breast another squeeze, then left with a loud bang of the door, startling me.

  Seconds after the old man left, Jinying’s angry, jealousy-stricken face thrust itself in front of mine. Then he threw himself onto the bed where his father and I had just copulated. He didn’t utter a word but buried his head between his hands, his face twisting in agony.

  He blurted out, “I’ll kill him!”

  I almost exclaimed, “Good idea!” but stopped myself just in time. I said instead, “Shh ... Jinying, lower your voice, just in case.” I paused, then spoke again. “Jinying, don’t even think of anything along that line. He’s your father, after all.” I said this just to test how far he might go for love.

  He raised his head to look at me, his eyes tearing. “He does too many wrongs, kills too many people. He should be dead.”

  “You really think that?”

  He hissed, “Yes! I love you, Camilla, and I can’t bear what he does to you or the way you have to succumb to his evil power.”

  “Yes, you may want him dead, but I
don’t believe you have the heart to kill him.” Testing him again, I felt myself slightly trembling. Persuading a son to kill his father—could there be any worse karma than that?

  As expected, he shook his head. I wondered, was this cowardice or being filial?

  Then he suddenly exclaimed, startling me, “If I can’t strike him down, I wish that heaven will!”

  “But if heaven chooses to be compassionate, what do you plan to do?” I asked.

  “I’ll drum up something.”

  Unfortunately so far it was only talk but no action.

  “Jinying, you’re tired and angry and can’t think straight. Please go back to your room and get some sleep. We’ll talk about this later. Go, quickly. Your father might come back at any time!”

  “But—”

  “Just leave!”

  After the young master’s departure, the question arose again in my mind.

  Why couldn’t I have contortionist sex with Lung when I knew Jinying was watching? Why should I care how he felt?

  But it was very dangerous for me to even try to ponder this. Such thoughts shouldn’t even exist in my head in the first place.

  I reminded myself that I was a spy with no emotions, only a deadly mission.

  I was a skeleton woman. And I was to turn Lung into my next skeleton.

  20

  Opera House and a Deadly Thought

  Two days later, Zhu told me that he had obtained two balcony tickets to the Opera de Paris. Even better, he said that neither his boss, Gao, nor the other bodyguards would be dining with Jinying or me. He didn’t say where they would be, but I believed that some especially secret business meeting was planned.

  I knew Lung had dealings all over the world, so I was not surprised that this Paris trip involved more than just pleasure. In fact, I had heard about his intention to open a bank in the French Concession, which was not under the Chinese government’s control. So maybe he was going to negotiate with French officials about this. Would his travels to and from this meeting in rented limousines offer a chance to attack him?