“Yes, sir.” Sam pushed the speed up a notch.
Noah was born in Shanghai and, over the years, had come in and out of the city dozens of times without issue. On occasion, some bureaucrat might hang him up briefly, but that was a rarity.
This time, though, was different—he didn’t want anyone, especially the authorities, to know they were there. Not to mention, all their passports and official identification were gone.
Filing and processing new ones would take hours, but Noah’s real concern was that the world would learn of their existence, including whoever had been tracking them anonymously. Noah’s only means of keeping the group alive was secrecy. For once in his life, he was in complete agreement with Master Wu’s anti-technology stance.
Privacy did have its costs, though. One reason Noah got such a bad deal when negotiating with the Chinese fishing captain was Noah’s insistence that no one know who they were. When he asked the captain what place close to Shanghai they might go to without alerting authorities, the skipper suggested his home, Jinshanzui.
The directions the captain gave Noah were perfect. As the skiff approached the sleepy village, Master Wu turned back to the ocean. His voice cracking with emotion, he said softly, “You were my best friend, Tang. May the gods be with you.”
Noah sat beside Master Wu and put his arm around his shoulder.
After Sam beached the Ever Ready, Noah instructed Lisa and Sam to stay with Master Wu while he sought out the captain’s transportation suggestion. He ambled through the sleepy little village until he arrived at the “The Jinshanzui Taxi Company.” It was hardly a bustling enterprise. No one was at the counter, but there was an old beat-up minibus in front. Noah got on to see the driver lying down for a nap.
Noah tapped the driver’s shoulder and woke him. “I want to go to the Shaolin Paradise,” he said in perfect Mandarin. “There are four of us, including one man who needs to stay lying down.”
“Your Chinese is so good, I give you very good deal,” replied the driver enthusiastically.
“How much?”
“Only six hundred dollars.”
“No way,” Noah told him. “I’ll give you ten.”
“Who are you kidding? Get out. Get out.”
Noah laughed. He knew the game of bargaining that went on throughout most of Asia, especially with independent proprietors. Haggling was a blood sport and the game was always the same. Start with an astronomically high price, then counter with a lowball offer just as stupid. The moment the driver said, “Six hundred,” Noah knew his fifty bucks would be enough.
“Okay. Okay. No games or I walk,” he said. “Twenty dollars. That’s my final offer.”
“You want me to lose money?” The driver balked. “The gas is one hundred dollars by itself. Tell you what. I no make money. I just charge you for the gas. One hundred dollars.”
“I said twenty was my final offer.”
“C’mon, mister. It’s going to take me all day to get there and then come back.” The driver tried to discern the thoughts from Noah’s poker face. “Okay. Okay. Sixty-five. I cannot do it for one cent less. Otherwise you just go away.”
“So we’re good at forty?” asked Noah.
The driver was about to object but then Noah showed him the fifty dollars.
“Okay. I’ll take fifty. Let’s go. You got the best deal, you know.”
“Fifty means you buy lunch and get us clean bottled water to drink.”
The driver shook his head. “You should be happy I like you. I only do this for my friends.”
“I know.” In reality, Noah knew he could have held firm for about thirty and gotten that price. However, he never enjoyed bargaining that much. That was why the Chinese liked doing business with him.
The driver’s attitude changed the moment he met Master Wu and found out he was a Shaolin kung fu grandmaster. Like most Chinese, he was an avid martial arts movie fan and felt sure Master Wu was a movie star in disguise. He begged forgiveness for having Master Wu lie on the floor of the bus but said he had no choice. The driver then insisted on giving the money back to Noah, saying it was a privilege for him to have such an illustrious guest as a passenger. Master Wu intervened, saying the money was not for the driver but for his children. The driver vociferously thanked Master Wu for his generosity, but still pressed the funds back into the sifu’s hands. “Good luck for me!”
The entourage was on its way.
As he sat on the ramshackle bus without being able to make a phone call, without the ability to check his email or cruise the Internet or play any kind of computer games, Noah realized how utterly energy-depleted he was. Much as the scenery outside was of interest, he couldn’t resist the beckoning of Hypnos, the goddess of sleep.
Chapter 25
Sam was stoked. While Lisa and Noah were seasoned travelers and used the time to catch up on rest, it was Sam’s first trip outside of Hong Kong and everything fascinated him. While most teenagers would have preferred playing games on their phones, Sam was riveted to the window of the minibus. With Master Wu giving a running commentary, the old man and young teenager would have been happy to see every square mile of Shanghai Province’s twenty-four hundred square miles.
Master Wu knew Sam was always a city boy, so he got the driver to stop so Sam could pick lychees off a tree—they were the sweetest he had ever tasted. At another stop, Master Wu treated Sam and the driver at an open-air steamed dumpling restaurant, then got the driver a haircut at the roadside barber next door.
A few hours later, Master Wu excitedly pointed to the looming skyscrapers in the distance. “That’s Shanghai, Sam.”
“Awesome. Hey, Master Wu, did you know Shanghai’s even bigger than Beijing now?”
Master Wu shook his head. “That’s one of many things I don’t know.”
As they traveled deeper into the city, Master Wu remarked on how modern the city was. There wasn’t a trace of the old China that he knew the last time he was there. “That’s sad to see. The old buildings gave it character.”
By now, Noah and Lisa were awake, too.
“Hey, Sam, what’s the most popular bird in Shanghai?” asked Noah.
“Sparrow? Robin? Swallow? How should I do?” shrugged Sam.
Noah laughed. “It’s the crane. The building crane.”
“You’re so corny,” snickered Sam. “So I know you’ve been here ten times in the last while. What did you do here?”
Noah closed his eyes and emitted a loud snore, then opened his eyes. “Meetings. Mainly long boring meetings with bureaucrats. These guys are so suspicious, questioning everything I said. They didn’t believe me when I told them it was free and there were no strings attached. And, of course, I had to be cagy whenever I was asked where the money came from… Duh, I killed a big, bad guy and am using his blood money.”
“So what do you say when that happens?”
“I told them I worked with Garret Southam and the money came through him after he died. His name as a senior partner at the Pittman Saunders law firm still carries weight and respect.”
Lisa swore to herself. Yes, the source of funds was confirmed but how was she or King going to get at it?
Chapter 26
Finally, after the loss of Master Wu’s best friend, being stranded in the South China Sea, attacked by Shaolin assassins, and an eight-hour ride on the dilapidated minibus, Noah, Master Wu, Sam and Lisa arrived at Shaolin Paradise, “The Number One Shaolin temple in the world.”
The driver stopped in front of a gigantic statue of Buddha in front of a complex of pagodas. “No vehicles are allowed past here,” he apologized.
“No worries. We appreciate what you’ve done,” said Noah as he bowed to the driver.
Sam fetched a wheelchair while the driver helped Noah carry Master Wu off the minibus.
After Master Wu was sitting safely, the driver bowed deeply. “Xie xie, Sifu. May I have your autograph?”
“Of course,” replied the grateful master as Noah whispered into his ear, tel
ling Master Wu not to give his real name.
Borrowing a Chinese brush and ink from one of the calligraphy stalls, Master Wu wrote with a flourish the words, “Tiger” and “Crane.” The beaming driver bowed and left.
“Finally,” exhaled Noah, turning to Master Wu. “So where’s Heaven?”
“Not yet, Noah. This is not Heaven,” replied Master Wu.
“But we’re at Shaolin Paradise,” protested Noah. “This is where you wanted to go.”
“Yes, but this is not the final destination,” croaked Master Wu. “Look around you, Noah.”
Noah scanned the complex with a careful eye. An inner skepticism grew the closer he looked. Yes, there were centuries-old tiered tower pagodas reverberating with the sounds of monks chanting. Yes, in the courtyard, there were venerable robed monks leading acolytes in martial arts exercises. Yes, there was a vast complex of buildings for worship and mindful meditation. But there was also a range of disconcerting sights that were more touristy than transcendent.
At the entrance was a souvenir shop selling everything from stuffed tigers to DVDs to martial arts uniforms with sequins and gaudy colors. There was a booth selling admission tickets to the show, “Secrets of the Shaolin.” There were people lining up to have their pictures taken with live baby tigers or to have monks wrap snakes around their necks. These photographic enterprises were fifty dollars each. There were mini-buses and electric carts offering tours of “Sights of the Shaolin Paradise.”
Center stage was a monk breaking a stack of bricks with his head to the obvious delight of the gawking tourists. Another monk broke a pile of eight-foot boards with his hands. The split halves were stacked together and the monk’s hand crashed through them as easily as a hot knife through butter. The gawkers applauded and whistled.
“Well, what are we going to do then?” asked the exasperated Noah.
“Noah, this is an intermediate station. Heaven is not here. It is in the mountains.”
“You’ve gotta be kidding. Which mountains?”
“I would never remember the way to get there,” Master Wu confessed. “When I first went up there sixty years ago, I had a guide… the sentry. When I left, the grandmaster of Heaven told me they would have someone here to take me back when I wanted to return. I told him there was no need because I would never return. The sigong said the heart always wants to come home and that someone would always be ready to take me there. He was right. I know there is a sentry here somewhere.”
Noah asked gently, “So how do we get a hold of the sentry, Sifu?”
“You do not find the sentry; he finds you. Be patient, Noah.”
“You are always telling me that, Master Wu, to be patient.” Noah looked anything but patient, more frustrated and on his way to being cranky.
“Have faith, Noah. He will come.”
“That’s not my style.” Noah turned to Lisa. “Wait here with Master Wu. I’m going to locate this guy.”
“And I’m going to check this place out. I’ll be back in two hours. Okay?” asked Sam.
Noah scrunched his face. “Even if it wasn’t okay, you’d never listen to me. Scram!”
Chapter 27
‘Take personal responsibility. Do not rely on others.’ That was what Chin said, and that’s what King was doing as his Bell chopper cut through the sky. It wasn’t an AgustaWestland but, given the financial hits he’d taken, he couldn’t be choosy.
He knew the Tao Princess was traveling from Hong Kong to Shanghai. It could take up to two days to travel the approximately eight hundred miles. He knew his AgustaWestland went down somewhere halfway between the two points. That left a whole lot of terrain to cover.
What he didn’t know was if there was anything to find, or where to begin looking if there was. All he knew was that he had to try.
He also knew that if he was going to unearth something, it was going to take luck or outside-the-box thinking. That included consulting the enemy. King spotted a Japanese patrol boat. Being Japanese didn’t make them the enemy. After all, he himself was half-Japanese. What made them adversaries was that he avoided anything remotely governmental like the plague, especially when he had a cargo of illegals. This caution paid off―none of the authorities had ever met him, and most didn’t know of his existence. However, this time he felt he had no other choice. With zero leads, he needed to turn over rocks to see what was under them.
His chopper descended and he hovered close to the Japanese vessel. He saw the crew take out the water hose and prepare to douse the chopper. The bullhorn started blaring in Japanese but King took out his own megaphone and started shouting back in Japanese.
“Honorable sirs, I am not here on a mission of war or invasion. I am here to investigate the disappearance of a luxury boat, the Tao Princess. We have good reason to believe they were smuggling illegal cargo. Moreover, they wanted you to provoke them so they could report on the indignation of treatment by the Japanese. They wanted to dishonor you.”
After a few moments of silence, the Japanese bullhorn blared. “There has been no invasion of Japanese waters by luxury craft. Our waters were violated by a small pleasure craft that we reported to the authorities.”
“Did you notice any of the passengers?”
“We saw a tall Caucasian man, perhaps thirty years old. There was also a Chinese woman of about the same age and a teenage Chinese boy.”
“Did you see an old man?”
“Only the three we described.”
“Where was the vessel headed?” King asked.
“As far as we could determine, it was not going anywhere.”
“Thank you so much for your cooperation. This will greatly assist in our investigation.”
The helicopter ascended and began making its way to the Chinese mainland.
Okay, so Noah’s alive. Got off the Tao Princess and the small craft was probably the emergency vessel. Sounds like it was out of gas or had engine problems, which means they would want to get to the closest friendly land from here. If he were able to make it to China’s shores, it would be due east from here. Either that or they’re dead.
Chapter 28
For damned sure, Noah was convinced the sentry would not be found in any of Shaolin Paradise’s tourist attractions. After all, Master Wu was relying on a memory from decades ago. Who knew how many changes of the guard had occurred in Heaven since then? Or whether it even existed at all? A rock or an avalanche could have wreaked havoc in a hidden community and no one would ever know about it. Not to mention the changing nature of China’s government policy over the years regarding religious matters. That situation made his parents decide to move from communist China to democratic Hong Kong.
In thinking of who the sentry might be, Noah determined that it had to be a male. How old, he had no idea. And how would he approach potential sentry candidates. Asking, “Can you take me to Heaven?” would undoubtedly mark him as a nutcase or religious fanatic.
Wandering through the grounds, he searched for anyone who remotely might resemble a sentry. He entered one hall to see a room full of fifty Shaolin monks, all meditating as a group. He scanned the lot of them, but none were even aware of his existence. Okay, I’m here. Find me. Seriously.
From there, Noah wandered to the great hall where a dozen monks hypnotically chanted with bell, gong and drum accompaniment. Lit joss sticks were placed in urns throughout the hall and in front of several multi-armed warrior god figures. Hello, hello?
When no one approached him here, he moved to one of the training courtyards where a hundred young boys were doing their stretches, supervised by a sifu.
It brought back memories but also made Noah realize how lucky he was to have had the personalized attention that Master Wu gave him. To an untrained observer like most tourists at Shaolin Paradise, what the boys were doing was remarkable. Each squatted with the left leg bent behind his body and the right leg extended lengthwise in front. They bounced up and down and seemed to have the flexibility of Olympic gymnasts. Afte
r thirty seconds, they switched leg positions―the right leg was now behind the body and the left leg was in front.
As Noah watched the form of the students, he saw little errors that drove him crazy. Master Wu would never let me get away with that. That arm is not completely straight. Your knee is slightly crooked! Flex higher! Higher!
The sifu barked out, “Tiger,” and the acolytes moved into position. “Tiger is the king of predators. You dominate mountains, you move like an avalanche. You jump across mountain ranges. Your eyes glow like fire, your voice is thunder, your paws are your strength.”
All the students shouted in unison, “Hai!”
The sifu led them in a ‘tiger pouncing’ form. The right foot stepped forward and the left was quickly placed beside.
Noah was going berserk. He could not believe the instructor allowed the students’ feet to touch the ground.
His outrage intensified when he saw the next set of forms. Right hand reached out under left arm, clenched fists, and pulled back to the stomach. The arms were not straight and the pull to the stomach was not symmetrical.
Unconsciously, Noah found himself joining in the forms. His elbows hugged his ribs, his knees locked together, and he moved his head up and he looked straight ahead. To the uninitiated, there was little difference between Shaolin Paradise’s master’s technique and Noah’s. Most looking at him thought he was just showing off.
For fifteen minutes from his sideline position, Noah followed along with the exercises. By now, though, he had forgotten his anger and lost himself in the meditation and concentration of his own forms. Twenty years of tutelage from Master Wu was not in vain. Anyone watching Noah would have thought he was a sifu, not a lawyer, not a foundation president.
“Excuse me.”
Startled from his concentration, Noah turned around to see an orange-robed monk about his age staring at him. With his shaved head and chiseled body of iron, he appeared every bit the Shaolin warrior.
The Noah Reid Action Thriller Series: Books 1-3 (plus special bonuses) Page 34
