The Ninja's Blade

by Tori Eldridge

  “And how would you know that?”

  “News reports, videos—”

  “Ha! Only a fool would believe what they see on the Internet.”

  “I’m not talking about biased news stations and commentary, Gung-Gung. I’ve seen raw footage and unedited accounts of the police misconduct.”

  Ma threw out her hands. “Lily, please. No more arguing at my table.”

  “Then you’re more foolish than I thought,” Gung-Gung said. “All news is politicized, even your so-called raw footage. No matter how complete you believe your information to be, you are never seeing the whole picture. You will never know the true agenda of what you are being shown.”

  “Stop it, both of you,” Ma said. “There will be no politics at my mahjong table.”

  Gung-Gung stacked his wall and pushed it forward. “Fine,” he said to Ma, then looked at me. “Your grandmother is correct to be concerned. Young people can be foolish and volatile. The elderly have to take care.”

  I opened my mouth then shut it just as fast. Ma had asked me to smooth the waters, not agitate them.

  I pushed my wall into position and smiled. “Would anyone like more tea?”

  “No tea. I want to play,” Po-Po said.

  Ma, as the new East player, broke the wall and began the draw. “Speaking of the elderly,” she said. “You’re eighty-one years old. Don’t you think it’s time to retire?”

  “Retire? What for? Hong Kong Director handles most of the China work, and you and London Director take care of Europe and the US. Why should I retire?”

  Ma arranged her hand and discarded a tile. “Because that’s what retirement is—passing the reins to those who are doing all the work.”

  Gung-Gung inhaled with a hiss. “A ship needs a captain. It can’t be run by a bunch of sailors.”

  “Pong,” Ma snapped, grabbing his discarded six bamboo and slapping it down with two of her own. “Is that how you think of us, sailors?”

  He shrugged as the play continued. “How else? There are three of you. You can’t all be the boss.”

  “But I thought—”

  “You thought what? That one day you would take over my business? Run Hong Kong International Finance all by yourself? I have partners and investors to consider. Not everyone is as pleased with you as you seem to think.”

  The play had reached Ma again, and she refused to draw. “What are you saying?”

  Gung-Gung sighed. “Nothing. You just need to remember that you are part of a team. There are other people to answer to besides me.”

  Ma drew a tile and discarded it without consideration. It was the East Wind. Now that she had moved into the dealer’s position, a pung in this tile would have doubled her score. Moreover, no one had discarded any wind tiles in this round. Did she have a ready hand, waiting for a particular tile or tiles to win? Or had Gung-Gung’s words distracted her from the game?

  “Sik wu,” Po-Po said, and laid her tiles down on the table for the win. Ma’s discarded tile had completed a very rare sixty-four-point hand known as Little Four Winds.

  I leaned in for a closer look. “Aiya! I’ve never seen anyone do that.”

  Po-Po beamed, trying and failing to appear humble and surprised. “Sup sup sui la,” she responded in Cantonese, which meant something akin to no biggie.

  Ma nodded. “It’s a very good hand.”

  “Bin go wui num dou?” Gung-Gung said. “Who would have thought?”

  Ma flashed an intolerant look at her father. “Mama. Obviously.”

  “Don’t be ungracious, Violet,” Gung-Gung said. Then he popped an egg tart into his mouth and chewed it with enthusiasm.

  Ma squeezed her lips into a tight smile and tallied her score.

  “And, by the way,” Gung-Gung added. “There’s an emergency board meeting next month in Hong Kong. Your attendance is expected.”

  Chapter

  Thirty-Nine

  For the second time today, I stood across from Brianna’s house straddling my bike, except this time, I wore the lacy tunic dress and capri leggings I’d changed into for mahjong at Ma’s. Since I’d left my gi at Sensei’s and sweat through my street clothes boxing with Eddie, I’d had no choice but to show up dressed like a frilly girl. Well, not frilly exactly, but definitely not tough.

  I listened to the shouting match between Brianna’s mother and Eddie and wondered if I’d need to break up a fight. Every now and again, one of them would pass in front of the screen door or window, Eddie toting boxes or bags, Regina clenching hands on her hips.

  “So that’s how it is?” she shouted. “You gonna leave us without a word of explanation?”

  “What’s there to say?”

  “How about the name of the ho you’re chasing?”

  Eddie kicked open the screen door and carted two overstuffed lawn bags to his SUV. “There ain’t no ho.” He opened the hatch and tossed them in with the other bags, boxes, and assorted electronics.

  Regina followed him outside. “Where you gonna live? With her? You got other kids? A dog? What else I don’t know about you?”

  Eddie returned to the house for another load.

  “What about the rent? You gonna pay your half? You gonna do right by your family?”

  Eddie loaded the rest of his possessions and shut the hatch.

  Regina grabbed his arm as he opened the car door. “Don’t leave, baby. Whatever this is, we can work it out—like we always done.”

  The screen door creaked as Brianna walked onto the porch, Angel in her arms. She didn’t speak, but I could see the anger smoldering in her eyes.

  Like we always done.

  “Let him go, Mama. We don’t need him around here no more.”

  Eddie pulled his arm free from Regina’s grip and took a step toward her. “You think you better than me?”

  He and Brianna locked eyes like a pair of bulls before a fight—nostrils flared, bodies tense, faces twitching with pent up emotion. Any moment, one of them would launch an irreparable attack in front of Angel and speak the words she could never un-hear.

  “Hey,” I called from across the street. “Everything okay?”

  All of them recognized me, but none of them knew I had met the others. I grinned. The only one of them who seemed concerned was Eddie. I held out my cellphone and pointed to it, reminding him of my warning to call Child Protective Services and the LAPD. His fellow prisoners wouldn’t take kindly to a man who had raped his own stepdaughter.

  Eddie flipped us off. “Fuck y’all. I’m outta here.”

  Regina watched as Eddie drove away then glared at me. “You ain’t welcome here,” she yelled. Then she threw up her hands and walked into the house.

  Brianna put Angel down and nudged her to follow Regina. Then she crossed the street toward me. “This your doing?”

  I shrugged. “Eddie left of his own accord. I don’t see how Manolo can blame you for that.”

  “Uh-huh. And what you want in return?”

  “What I’ve always wanted—for you to stop recruiting innocent girls for sex traffickers. But for now, I’ll settle for the truth.”

  “What truth? I told you everything I know.”

  “Not me. I need you to speak the truth to Sharelle, Ana Lucía, and whoever else you lured into this nasty business. They need to know these men don’t care about them, that they’re only pretending so they can control them and profit from their misery. They need to hear it from you or they won’t believe.”

  “It’s too late.”

  “For those girls on The Blade—maybe, but not for Sharelle. RC’s in the hospital. This might be the only chance she has to break free, but she won’t unless you tell her the truth.”

  Brianna shook her head. “You don’t understand. It’s not about RC anymore. I took Sharelle to Manolo. She’s his bitch now.”

  I couldn’t believe it: not that she’d screwed over Sharelle for a second time—that part seemed inevitable—but t
hat she had sold her to Manolo, who was supposed to be Brianna’s one and only pimp. “Why would you do that? Won’t Manolo punish you?”

  “He don’t know, and Sharelle won’t tell him.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “Because I’m bottom, and she knows I only look out for the girls who are loyal to me.”

  “How can you care so little?”

  “More like I care too much. I told you this morning, I needed money to get Angel away from Eddie.”

  “Well, now he’s gone.”

  “And so’s his money.” Brianna sighed. “Who you think is going to make up for Eddie’s part of the rent, my mama? She got her hands full with Angel and them other kids. She’ll take on other work, but it won’t be enough. She’s going to expect the rest to come from me.”

  I hadn’t thought about money. Although if I had, it wouldn’t have changed my actions—I couldn’t leave a three-year-old child in a house with a pedophile. I had to secure Angel’s safety before I could help Brianna, rescue Sharelle, find Emma, and stop Manolo. After that, I could deal with Eddie. One way or another, he’d pay for his crimes.

  “We’ll figure something out. In the meantime, put my number in your phone and call me if Eddie comes back. I need you to feel safe and focused so we can put Manolo out of business.”

  “We?”

  “Yes. I need you to get to him.”

  “Girl, you tripping. I can’t just walk you up to Manolo like you some friend visiting from out of town. I mean, look at you, all Asian and shit. Who going to believe I have a friend who looks like you?”

  I glanced down at my good-daughter clothes then back at her.

  “Not me, Candy. The girl you met last night on The Blade. The girl you’re going to recruit for Manolo.”

  Chapter Forty

  As I biked home to Culver City, I considered a quick detour to Aleisha’s Refuge, but with the tension between us, I didn’t relish a face-to-face. Just thinking about her made me feel like there was a vice squeezing my head. If I heard her mention post traumatic stress one more time…my skull would pop. Better to ignore her today, and live tomorrow.

  Baba hailed me as I entered the restaurant’s kitchen. “Have you eaten?”

  I laughed. “You sound like Gung-Gung.”

  “Or he sounds like me. So, you want a bunny lunch?”

  “Heck no. I want dinner.”

  His belly laugh boomed over the hum of commercial fans and the clatter of kitchen activity. After the carefully measured emotions from Ma and her parents, Baba’s outburst hit me like a fire hose of joy.

  “Tend to your bike, why don’t you? I’ll see to your food.”

  I stowed it and hurried up the stairs to my apartment to drop off my pack. A wave of fatigue washed over me as I opened the door. Aside from the enjoyment of training with Sensei and the fun parts of playing mahjong when I wasn’t arguing with Gung-Gung, it had been a long and agitating day.

  I sank onto the entryway bench and traded my athletic shoes for slippers, then sank a little farther and curled up on the wood. I needed a few seconds of rest, and then I’d be right as rain.

  “Dumpling?”

  I opened my eyes to a close-up of Baba’s face. “What’s going on? Where am I?”

  “On your bench. You never came down for dinner.”

  I pushed myself upright and pulled myself from sleep. “Oh. I’ll be right down.”

  “No need. It’s been over two hours. I made you a fresh plate.”

  “Two hours?”

  He checked his watch. “And twenty minutes. I knocked on the door, but you didn’t answer.” He held out the tray. “Hope you don’t mind.”

  I waved away his concern. Baba always respected my privacy. He must have been worried about me to walk in uninvited. “Don’t worry about it.” I inhaled something delicious. “What do you have there?”

  “Hainan chicken rice and fish ball noodle soup.”

  “Whoa. Full-on comfort food, huh?”

  He smiled. “When you didn’t come back, I figured you needed it. There’s a cup of yuen yeung, as well.”

  That perked me up. “Seriously. With condensed milk?”

  “Is there any other way?”

  “No,” we said, in unison. Then we laughed.

  “Come on now, get off this bench and come eat.”

  I snatched the coffee cup off of the tray and took a long, satisfying sip. Yuen yeung was an intensely creamy brew of hot coffee and black tea, mixed with a blend of evaporated and sweet condensed milk. If I had to choose my favorite part of Hong Kong, it would be this drink.

  “Better?” Baba asked.

  “Definitely.”

  Yuen yeung meant duck duck in Cantonese, or more accurately a male and female Mandarin duck—which, according to legend, mated for life. The birds made a striking couple. Much like lovebirds in the west, Mandarin ducks symbolized lovers in Chinese culture. I took another sip and sighed. I was a very happy duck.

  I followed him to my meager dining area where he had placed my dinner tray and dove into my meal, slurping the noodles and gobbling the fish balls. I dipped a piece of poached chicken into the chili sauce and gobbled it. All the while, Baba watched in pleased silence.

  When I had finished every bite he said, “So…how was mahjong?”

  I laughed. “As if you haven’t already spoken with Ma.”

  “I did. But her answer left something to my imagination.”

  “What did she say?”

  “That she and your grandfather had words—and that she’d been summoned to Hong Kong.”

  “Yep. That’s pretty much what happened, along with Gung-Gung’s tirade against the protesters.”

  “Hmm. Can’t say as I’m surprised about that. This is August. The protests have been going on for two months, many of them right near his offices. Plus, he’s older.”

  “That’s what got Ma into trouble. She asked him when he was going to retire.”

  “Oh, my. Is that why he’s summoning her to Hong Kong?”

  I thought about Gung-Gung’s words and attitude. “I don’t think so. He implied people weren’t happy with Ma’s work. Then he dashed her hopes of taking over the business.”

  Baba sighed. “Well, that explains it, all right.”

  “Ma’s mood?”

  “Yep. She’s got the holler tail, sure enough.”

  I waited for him to elaborate, but he planted his hands on his knees and hoisted himself to his feet. “Uff-da. Sit too long and it’s hard to stand. You done?”

  I popped the last cucumber slice in my mouth and nodded. “Thanks, Baba.”

  “You betcha.” He picked up the tray. “Get some sleep. You look all played out.”

  “That I am.”

  I saw him to the door and headed to wash up for bed when my phone chimed: a text message from an unknown caller.

  U told me to text if I got in trouble. In deep. B

  Me: Brianna?

  I’d given her my number in case Eddie returned. This didn’t sound like that. Another text came in.

  Unknown Caller: Hurt. No hospital. Can U come?

  Me: Where are you?

  Unknown Caller: Behind sushi place on LB. Know it?

  Me: I’ll find it. Hold tight.

  Unknown Caller: (Thumbs up)

  I opened my favorite contacts to Kansas. What could have happened to Dolla for her to reach out to me? Nothing good.

  Kansas answered on the second ring. “Hey Lily. What’s up?”

  “Can you give me a ride to Compton?”

  “Now?”

  “Yep. It’s an emergency.”

  “I just dropped off a customer at Bergamont Station—be there in ten.”

  I raced to the bathroom to gather every first aid related thing I could think of—bandages, scissors, tweezers, needles, thread, rubbing alcohol, even activated charcoal in case she’d been poisoned. Had she been stabbed, shot,
drugged? Since I had no idea, I arranged everything I could think of, as orderly as possible, in a large rectangular gym bag—including a thin wool blanket and a sweatshirt and pants that were big enough to fit Brianna in case she had bled through whatever she was wearing.

  I changed out of my tunic and leggings into more rugged clothes, grabbed a few bottles of water, zipped the bag, and ran out the door.

  Chapter

  Forty-One

  Kansas and I found Brianna squatting in the grimy parking lot of a tiny sushi restaurant, her back against a wall and her face buried in her arms. Although the place was deserted at this late hour, evidence of earlier customers littered the pavement and overflowed from the garbage bin.

  Kansas parked but left the engine running. “You sure you don’t want to call an ambulance? Or maybe the police?”

  “I promised I wouldn’t.”

  “Well, I’m not leaving you here alone. For all you know her attacker is waiting around the corner to do to you whatever he did to her.”

  I searched the area for signs of trouble and nodded when I didn’t find any. “Okay, but keep the doors locked, and turn off the lights.”

  I got out of the car and approached Brianna slowly, so as not to frighten her. She raised her head and stared at me from eyes blackened by bruises and dripping mascara.

  “You came.”

  “I did.”

  A palm sized welt had swelled on her cheek.

  “May I sit?” I asked, not wanting to invade her space without permission. When she nodded, I knelt in front of her and retrieved a small battery-powered camp light from the side pocket of my gym bag. I turned it on and unzipped the U-shaped flap in the center, where my medical supplies were arranged. I cracked a cold pack and kneaded the gel until the whole pad felt soft and cold.

  “Put this on your cheek,” I said. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

  Tears rolled down her face as she pressed the cold pack against her eye. The movement appeared to cause her pain because her other hand, resting on her bent knees, tensed into a claw.

  “Will you show me?”

  Her lips trembled. Her breath quickened. She leaned her head against the building and grimaced. Although she’d done it gently the movement seemed to cause her tremendous pain.