“What were you told about our African collaborators?”
I thought back to the conversation I had had with Nigel’s distributor. He mentioned something about Uganda but he hadn’t mentioned any names. “Nothing. He didn’t tell me anything.”
“You will answer my question, Ms. Sohon.”
I shook my head just as I was kicked from behind.
The sudden sharp pain in my kidney caused my body to seize up. I took rapid breaths to absorb the blow.
I couldn’t stop myself from having a flashback to the last time I was blindfolded, bound, and beaten. It was in the Caprivi a few months back. In the Caprivi, I had friends who interceded. Here, I had no friends—no hope of a rescue.
“Nigel did not want me to hurt you, but you are leaving me no choice.”
What was I thinking? Of course Nigel would be watching my every move. How could I have been stupid enough to think I could follow him to Bird Street without drawing the attention of the Sun Hee Un? Or maybe he led me here on purpose to interrogate me. This wasn’t like the Caprivi region of Namibia. This was Nigel’s home turf. He wasn’t pretending to be a good guy.
“What do you know about that nightingale?” the man whispered right next to my ear.
I shook my head again. “What nightingale?” I didn’t even know what a nightingale looked like until today, much less what Nigel’s interest in one might be.
After a brief barking back and forth in Cantonese by my captors, the man stepped lightly on my injured rib again. “I said, what do you know about that bird?”
So far, it seemed like there were only two men, probably the two who grabbed me—one was business, one was muscle. This seemed to be a common pairing in this line of business.
I shook my head and received an answering kick in the ribs from the side. I shrank in pain as a boot hit right where the bullet had grazed. My body wasn’t tough enough for this kind of work over.
The business shoes paced back and forth. I could hear and smell the sulfur of a match lighting up a cigarette and then an inhale. “I remind you again. You will answer our questions and you will not get hurt.” His English was rudimentary, but effective. “What brought you to the Art Emporium in Beijing?”
I couldn’t think of what I could possibly say to get myself out of this situation.
The noise of a switchblade flicked open, sharp steel sliding against its case, ending in the telltale snap of the stabbing blade locking into place. “How did you know he would be there?”
I shook my head, feeling completely hopeless.
“Nigel says you would never cooperate with Kwan Woo Dun, but I’m not convinced. Do you have a relationship with them?”
I shook my head again.
“No, of course you don’t.”
I was kicked in the back again.
“Nigel has a message for you. He says that you are to leave the country tonight. If you refuse to leave, he will no longer tolerate your activities.”
The commotion from outside quickly became a commotion inside as a silent ball of energy whipped around my captors. Another bucket dropped and then a whir of blender beaters—weightless legs kicking with no sounds of footfalls. There was a fumbling and noises of struggle—sharp strikes to the chest from short range—and punches, I assumed, disabling each of them with remarkable speed.
Then a body collapsed. And then the sound of choking and further struggle.
I rolled away from the sound, hoping to not be included in the attack.
A second body dropped to the ground.
“Hold still,” a very familiar voice whispered as she pulled the blindfold and then cut the rope on my hands and feet with quick precision. A long black braid dangled over me as I looked up at a face I hadn’t seen in four years.
“Ling-Ru?”
“Shhhh.” Ling-Ru, my former college roommate, grabbed my wrist and whisked me out of the building.
The chaos of the Bird Street brawl was still going strong, only it was now dark and a lot harder to avoid the projectile objects filling the air, including bodies colliding with stacks upon stacks of birdcages and their accessories. We both ducked as a large birdcage flew past us as we ran.
Old Ties
As we got farther away from the warehouse, Ling-Ru remained on high alert. Bird Street still hadn’t settled down. Ling-Ru looked left and right and then pulled me down a side street and then another side street. “We need to get you out of sight.”
The streets were now dark with dim flickering yellow streetlamps, which didn’t help much with navigation. I tried to keep up with the iron grip that Ling-Ru had on my wrist, despite her tiny physique and figure that was at least eight sizes smaller than mine. She had always been tiny but I didn’t remember her being this strong. And there was an edge to her jaw that hadn’t been there before.
Ling-Ru had changed quite a bit since our last sushi dinner together in Berkeley four years ago, marking the fifth anniversary of our graduation. We both got sloppy drunk and she went home with the chef. The Ling-Ru before me now was a bundle of cold fusion inside the same tiny package that had once been my vulnerable college roommate. Only there was no longer a sign of vulnerability. Her core had hardened beyond recognition. Her face was the same, but there was a different person behind it.
She pulled me into an alcove and held her hand up for me to be still. She looked carefully down several crowded streets, deciding in which direction to head. She turned back to me and scrutinized my face in the red neon light of a storefront, as if tracing the path of my emotions since we had last seen each other. “Still at the center of attention. You haven’t changed a bit.” She touched the skin around my eyes. “But you look like shit.”
I pulled her hand away. “Good to see you, too.”
“Hope that’s from whiskey and not something else.”
“Okay, Ms. Immortality.” I put my hand around her steely bicep. “How did you do that?”
“Do what?”
“You know, take those guys out? You didn’t know how to do that in college.”
“In my line of work, I have to be able to defend myself.” Ling-Ru pulled my wrist. “Come, this way.”
“Ouch.” I followed along. “What are you doing here anyway?”
“I live here, remember?”
“But now, how did you find me here now?” I pressed at my sore ribs. “I thought you were still working at the Yunnan border post. My dad told me you had called while I was in Namibia. I didn’t think I’d see you for a while.”
“Craig mentioned something about needing a second bouquet?”
“Craig?”
“You know what he’s referring to?”
“How do you know Craig?” Ling-Ru had been the second bouquet that Craig had referred to. Son of a bitch.
She looked at my shocked expression. “Well, don’t look so surprised. I’m a customs agent. I’m not too hard to find.” She shrugged. “You had mentioned me to Craig at some point and he looked me up. I’ve been following you since Beijing.”
“Craig sent you to Beijing?”
“He knows how to protect his assets.”
“A comforting thought. But it would have been nice if you had shown your face. It was pretty intense in that hospital room. They thought I was a triad member.”
“I couldn’t risk it. But I made sure nothing happened to you.”
“Please accept my belated thanks.” I was pissed. There I was, scared and alone and seriously wounded, and Ling-Ru had been there the whole time, standing idly by.
“Come on. It was only the last two days you were there. After Craig left. He’s working on customs to get them to agree to have me come with you to Yunnan on Monday.”
“Sneaky bastard. When was he planning on telling me all this?”
“I’m sure this wasn’t the way he had intended on telling you, but since I was shifted to the Shenzhen border this week, I came back to Hong Kong hoping to spend the weekend together.”
“I guess you did
n’t get around to telling me that, either?” I thought about this a second further. “Let me guess, you were also following me?”
“I had to intercede.”
“You say that as if there was a chance you wouldn’t have.”
“No, I didn’t,” she said defensively.
“Yes, you did!”
“Well, we’ve got all weekend for me to convince you otherwise. I’m taking you to Lantau tonight.”
“Lantau? Tonight? How about we meet there tomorrow? I’m not feeling that great and could really use a good night’s sleep.”
“I’m afraid we can’t do that.” Ling-Ru shook her head.
“Can’t I at least pack a few things for the weekend?”
“They probably have the mansions staked out.”
“Who has the mansions staked out?”
“I’m not taking any chances. We’re not going there tonight. We’re going straight to Lantau.”
“You have to tell me why.”
“Those men are Sun Hee Un. I’m sure they were hoping to take you for a nice ride somewhere to get rid of you.” She looked at me intently. “Now do you see why you shouldn’t go back to your place?”
“They told me that I had to leave the country tonight.”
“Is that what they said?”
I nodded.
“Shit. Come on, we’ve got to get you to Lantau.”
“What caused the entire market to break out into a fight?”
“The Sun Hee Un is at war with the Kwan Woo Dun from Guangzhou. KWD is trying to take over the Hong Kong wildlife trade market, which is SHU territory, because the SHU controls Beijing—formerly KWD territory—and the KWD wants Beijing back.”
“Craig mentioned something about this. What’s on Lantau?”
“I have a friend. He runs a shop and a couple of apartment rentals attached to his place. His father used to be an ivory carver in Guangzhou. He has lots of stories. You’ll like him. We’ll figure out a plan from there.”
I looked down at my sweat-drenched clothes. “Oh man. And I can’t even borrow your underwear.”
“Catherine, we didn’t even share underwear in college.”
“That’s because I couldn’t fit an arm, much less a leg into yours.”
“Li has a little curio shop attached to his restaurant. I’m sure you can find a T-shirt and shorts for the weekend. If you’re lucky, maybe he’ll have some sarongs with a print of the Soko Islands on them.”
“Charming.”
Ling-Ru stepped out into the street and hailed a cab.
Lantau Island
It was a long, harrowing ride to Lantau, through dark, winding roads riddled with erosion. Water poured down slick rock faces from sheer drop-offs on either side of the road that was lit from above by the weak moonlight. Every twisting turn made my reinjured rib hurt.
Headlights appeared around blind corners, causing us to veer to the opposite side of the road. My stomach lurched from one side of the car to the other with my body following behind. And then there was the dreaded passing of slower cars right before the blind corners, causing me to grip the door handle for each swerve.
I struggled into a position that would put the least weight on my ribs. The kick to the gunshot wound and then all the running had made them extremely sore.
Ling-Ru sensed my struggles. “Don’t worry, it’s not much farther.”
I grimaced, more upset at losing Nigel than about having just been kidnapped and beaten up. And there was also the lost letter from Jon. I was sure it was in a dumpster by now.
“How long did it take you to learn martial arts?”
“Couple years.”
“Can you teach me?”
“I’m not a very good teacher.”
“Come on.”
“Okay, you’re not a very good student.”
“That’s not true,” I lied. “I learn better by experience rather than reading. Was that Tae Kwan Do you were doing back there?”
“Kung fu.” Ling-Ru paused. “Wing Chun Kung Fu, actually.”
“What does that mean?”
“It’s a style of kung fu developed by a woman.”
“A woman?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, there’s got to be a story there.”
Ling-Ru sighed. “Apparently, a woman named Ng Mui was inspired by a fight she had witnessed between a snake and a crane. She developed a style of kung fu by mimicking their interaction, designed to turn the force of an assailant back on the assailant. It’s the style that Bruce Lee adopted.”
“I could use a tool like that.”
“Takes a lot of practice.”
I smiled. “Sounds like a busy weekend.”
“I like your thinking, roomie.”
“Roomie.” I laughed. “Haven’t heard that term in a very long time.”
—
We arrived at a small three-story, dilapidated apartment complex across from a foul-smelling beach. In the moonlight, I could see laundry hanging limply on lines strung from most of the windows. It made me feel more damp and tired than I already was.
Ling-Ru paid the driver as I stumbled out of the cab feeling carsick and weak, with a growing pain in my side.
A small, friendly looking man approached us carrying a flashlight. Three small girls trailed behind. “Ling-Ru! Ling-Ru!” The girls giggled.
Ling-Ru called out, “Li!” She ran and hugged the man as the kids surrounded her.
Li whispered, “I didn’t expect to see you so soon.”
“Something came up.”
Li came forward to welcome me and introduced himself as Ling-Ru’s friend. “I’m Li Sung, but please call me Li.”
“Catherine Sohon.” I bowed my head slightly and shook his hand.
Li showed us to our apartment on the second floor. Inside the apartment, scraps of tired furniture made up a soggy lounge. A sliding glass door led out to a small balcony with a view of the neighbor’s laundry, drooping heavily in the thick air.
I was given the bedroom behind the lounge, which contained a small bunk bed and a one-inch foam mattress. I surreptitiously pinched it to less than a millimeter before the others entered the room, wondering how my ribs would fare. A mattress was a step up from a reed mat, the typical offering to a houseguest or at a hostel, so I considered myself lucky.
Li followed behind and opened the window to let some air in. I could make out the shadow of a lush mountain out the back window, the foreground of which was obstructed by a huge pile of rusting metal junk.
The room quickly became a resonating chamber for the blaring cicadas that lived in the surrounding trees. Just the thought of windows without screens made my skin itch. And within moments, the soul-penetrating whine of the first mosquito buzzed at my ear.
As if he read my mind, Li said he’d have the cook bring over some mosquito coils. I smiled graciously, realizing that my horrible little room at the mansions wasn’t as bad as I had thought. If I was going to be in the wild, I wanted to be in the wild—not among a parade of laundry, garbage, and the smell of sewage and rotting organic matter wafting from the beach.
Ling-Ru hung a thin towel and sarong over the sink for me and offered to let me use the bathroom first. As late as it was, there was still time for a shower before dinner.
The closet-sized bathroom consisted of a hole in the floor for a toilet, surrounded by ceramic foot grips for one to squat over the hole. There was a dripping showerhead looming from the ceiling over the hole, making a very efficient all-in-one toilet and shower. A sink the size of a paper-towel roll was mounted on the wall next to the hole in the floor.
I removed my sweat-soaked blouse and cotton pants and unwrapped the bandage around my ribs. I was grateful that I put it on that morning. It served to lessen the impact of the unexpected blows I endured in the warehouse.
I took a cold shower, rinsed my clothes out in the sink, and then stared at my body in the small mirror. Somehow, in the month spent waiting for my paperwork in San
Francisco, I managed to accumulate a few extra pounds around my middle. Feeling sorry for myself and the elephants, bowl after bowl of pasta from Little Italy had set me back. Three days of being unconscious did have one advantage—I now had slightly less to lose than I did a week ago.
For our last dinner together, Dad took me to Michelangelo’s for his favorite rabbit-stuffed ravioli. I opted for butternut ravioli with cream sauce. We shared a nice bottle of Petite Syrah and talked about Yellowstone. I kept the details of my current work to a minimum and couldn’t help wondering if I should have stayed in the Caprivi during that time. There was so much I couldn’t tell my dad that it felt like my silence was dishonest, making for an awkward, distant visit.
I pressed at my puffy face that had already started to perspire again, despite my cold shower. I drew a finger along my crow’s-feet and comforted myself with the thought of spending time with my best friend again. While I was stationed in Namibia, Ling-Ru had been transferred from San Francisco to Hong Kong. I was looking forward to catching up with her. And the fact that she spoke Mandarin was an added bonus.
China was an incredibly difficult country to navigate without an interpreter. I learned that lesson during my brief trip to Beijing. Phrase books didn’t help because I didn’t know the meaning of Chinese characters. I recognized a few characters on a menu, but that was the extent of my knowledge of the Chinese language.
There was no way I could accomplish what I needed to on mainland China without a live-in interpreter, so I was thrilled that it could be Ling-Ru, despite the fact that she was born in Guangzhou and spoke rusty Mandarin with a bad Cantonese accent. I remember our Chinese classmates teasing her about her accent over happy-hour drinks. But that was less of a sin than someone I couldn’t trust or couldn’t tell if they were a bad translator, which is what I had suspected went wrong in my previous attempts to get information.
I pinched an inch away from my stomach. I had promised myself that I’d take up jogging, knowing that I wanted to prepare for the humidity again, but that hadn’t happened. Maybe kung fu was the answer. After further inspection of my face, I threw on my borrowed sarong in disgust. Ling-Ru was right. I did look like shit. But there was nothing I could do about it at the moment.
White Gold Page 5
