White Ginger

by Thatcher Robinson

  As they walked into the lobby and past the concierge desk, Bai waved at the lazing bellhop. He waved back reticently with a look of confusion. Tan turned to see who, or what, had drawn Bai’s attention. While he was distracted, she took the opportunity to slip her knife from its sheath and hold the razor-sharp blade between her finger and thumb, the hilt hidden within the sleeve of her jacket.

  Tan walked straight to the bank of elevators and stopped to push the “up” button. She turned to him and smiled brightly. His expression remained wary.

  The elevator door opened. Tan waved Bai into the lift. She stepped into the elevator and waited until he lifted his hand to punch the button for the seventh floor. Before the elevator door closed, she had the knife poised under his eye. The sharp blade drew a line of blood across his cheek.

  She whispered into his ear. “Did you really think I’d be so gullible?”

  “I don’t know what you mean. I’m taking you to see Sammy Tu. That’s all.”

  Perspiration ran down his forehead. He swallowed convulsively, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. She could almost smell the fear on him. She wondered if he could smell the fear on her.

  “Flinch, and you’re dead,” she warned.

  She pulled his jacket back with her free hand and ripped the automatic weapon from his shoulder holster. Her thumb flicked off the safety and cocked the hammer as she pressed the barrel into his back. His body went rigid. As she drew the knife away from his face, he let out a long sigh of relief and slowly braced his hands against the elevator doors to take deep breaths.

  She slipped the blade carefully back into its sheath before frisking him for more weapons. As the elevator dinged at the seventh floor, the doors started to slide open and he raised his hands. It was then she discovered a solid object—hard and heavy—holstered to Tan’s back. She flipped up the back of his coat and pulled out a throwing hatchet.

  “Are you serious?” She looked at the archaic weapon. “Really? You actually want to go back to being known as ‘hatchet men’? When Jason finds out about this, he’s going to chop you into little pieces with this relic.”

  Bai demonstrated by waving the ax in front of Tan’s ashen face.

  “I wasn’t given a choice,” he pleaded. “Shan made an example of those who refused to carry the ax. I’d rather be killed by the Hung Kwan than by Shan. It would be a cleaner death.”

  Given Shan’s behavior, Bai conceded Tan might have had a valid argument. “What if I can get you out of this mess?”

  Her offer was genuine. She needed an ally.

  He turned his head to look at her with interest. “How?”

  “Nobody’s going to blame you for staying alive by playing along with Shan. But now it’s time to choose sides. You help me out, and I’ll square things with Jason.”

  “Or what?”

  He fished for alternatives. Bai looked at him and shook her head in frustration. “Do you really want to try bartering with an angry woman holding a gun? Are you that stupid?”

  He shrugged, leaving her to form her own opinion.

  “Listen,” she said in exasperation, “you can start running now and see how far you get. You’re a dead man if Shan finds out I took away your toys, and you’re a dead man for crossing the Hung Kwan. It would seem keeping me alive is your best chance of surviving this mess.”

  He contemplated her offer. The frown on his face said he wasn’t happy with either choice.

  “Given the alternative,” he said reluctantly, “I’m your man.”

  He held out his hand for his weapons. Bai smiled at his audacity.

  “Your enthusiasm is inspiring,” she said, slapping his hand away with the blunt side of his hatchet.

  She released the tension on the hammer of the gun but kept it leveled. “Trust comes in small increments. Let’s start with your telling me everything you know about Sammy Tu.”

  “I don’t know very much,” he admitted. “Shan introduced me to him this evening. He’s down the hall in room 724. My impression, so far, is that he slithered out of a swamp.”

  “Is there a young girl with him?” she asked.

  “No. At least, I haven’t seen a girl.” He stopped to ponder a moment. “It’s strange, though. Shan said something to Sammy Tu earlier. Something about the young needing discipline. I didn’t understand what they were talking about. The comment just struck me as odd.”

  “To say Shan is odd is an understatement. His hatred for women runs deep.”

  Tan averted his eyes. He seemed to be hiding something.

  “Is there something you’d like to tell me?” she asked.

  “There are rumors, but that’s all. It’s probably nothing.”

  “What kind of rumors?”

  “That Shan likes to hurt women. I don’t know if it’s true. I’ve never even seen Shan with a woman, let alone seen him hit one.”

  “Do you have children, Tan?”

  His features became guarded “I have two daughters. Why?”

  “What would you do if someone tried to hurt them?”

  He replied without hesitation. “I’d kill them.”

  “I’m starting to like you better all the time, Mr. Tan.”

  His smile was hesitant. “Do you want me to take you to Sammy Tu now?”

  “After you,” Bai said, pointing down the hallway with the ax.

  He nodded then turned to walk down the corridor. She followed, tucking the ax handle inside the belt at her waist as she walked.

  Turning a corner, Tan stopped before room 724. He knocked and called out. “It’s Tan. Open up.”

  Smiling into the peephole, Tan put on a good show. She still had the pistol at his back, but it wasn’t pointed at him. At some point, she realized, she had to trust her instincts.

  The door rattled as the safety chain was released. A thin man with a crimped face stood in the doorway with both hands poised on his hips, like a comic book hero.

  “And who do we have here?” His voice was that of the man from the stairwell. Amusement distorted his face. He looked like a happy clown.

  “I’m the souxun.” Bai brought the gun up to point it in his face as she ratcheted back the hammer. The chatter of the automatic weapon managed to grab his attention. He froze. “You, Sammy Tu, have been found.”

  Tan shoved Sammy Tu into the room and threw him up against the wall to check for weapons. Sammy Tu wasn’t carrying, which suggested he was either very trusting or a fool.

  Bai kicked the door closed behind her. “Take a seat, Sammy.” She waved the gun in the general direction of a desk chair. “We have some things to discuss.”

  Sammy Tu’s eyes dodged from side to side while his tongue licked his lips nervously. He looked like an animal caught in a trap as he feverishly looked for a way to escape his predicament.

  The room was a hotel standard: a double bed, two upholstered chairs, and a small writing desk against the wall. Unless Sammy Tu was willing to take a header out the window and drop seven stories to the ground, he had no place to go.

  She scowled. “Just sit down, Sammy, before I shoot you.”

  He stared at her. Her words didn’t seem to penetrate his bewilderment.

  “That’s not to say I won’t shoot you anyway,” she informed him as she raised the gun to point it at his chest.

  Tan put a hand on Sammy Tu’s shoulder and pushed him down into the chair. He kept a hand on Sammy Tu to dispel any notion of his getting up again.

  Before she could question him, Sammy Tu started to blab. “I knew, I knew it, I knew it! That asshole Shan set me up, didn’t he? He used the girl then sold me just like a whore. I’m a fucking whore. That’s what I am. I’m nothing but a fucking whore.”

  She couldn’t entirely comprehend Sammy Tu’s rant, but reference to the girl got her attention. “Tell me where Jia Yan is.”

  He shot her a furtive look. It was obvious to Bai that lies were running through Sammy Tu’s head like shoppers on Christmas Eve. Reaching into her sleeve, sh
e pulled out Jason’s knife and handed it to Tan.

  “See if you can prick Sammy’s memory,” she suggested.

  Taking the knife, Tan quickly sliced through Sammy Tu’s ear. He tossed the bloody trophy into the pimp’s lap before Sammy Tu even realized what had happened.

  A howl erupted from Sammy as he stared at the severed ear in horror before grabbing at his bleeding head. Every foul word in his vocabulary spewed from his mouth, including a few Bai hadn’t heard. As Sammy ranted, she watched him dispassionately, surprised at her own detachment. Her reasoning told her she should have been horrified by the callous violence. Oddly enough, she wasn’t, and momentarily wondered why.

  She waited until the cursing subsided to incoherent whimpering. “Where’s the girl, Sammy? If I have to ask again, Mr. Tan will be obliged to cut off something even more sensitive.”

  He twisted around to stare fearfully at Bai. Tears streamed down his face. “What’s left of her is through that door.” He nodded at the access door to the adjoining room. “Shan’s been at her since yesterday. I’m not sure there’s much left.” He wept and his face crumpled. “He said he was going to pay me for her. But he never gave me a fucking dime. It was all lies, nothing but lies.”

  The pimp folded up and whimpered.

  Bai looked at Tan to catch his attention. “Keep a close eye on him. Cut him if he tries to run.”

  Tan grimly nodded in response.

  She walked around the bed to open the door to the adjoining room. It was unlocked from the other side. She couldn’t see much. The lights were off and the curtains drawn. She found the light switch next to the door and flipped it on.

  Jia Yan was curled into a fetal position on the bed. She was naked, bruised, and covered in blood. Bai walked over to lean down and touch the girl’s wrist to check for a pulse. Jia mewled like a kitten. She was alive, but just barely.

  Standing there, Bai felt like a failure. Tears filled her eyes as she stared at the broken child. She was afraid to touch her again for fear of hurting her. There was no way to tell how many broken bones or internal injuries Jia suffered. Bai couldn’t fathom the cruelty inflicted on her.

  Anger quickly replaced guilt. She hated Shan. She trembled with rage as a molten fury exploded within her. For the first time in her life, she really wanted to kill someone.

  She stormed back into the room where Sammy Tu and Tan waited. Tan looked at her with apprehension. Words spilled from her mouth in anger. “I’m going to find that son of a bitch and I’m going to kill him.”

  “The girl?” Tan asked.

  Bai stared blankly at him and realized she’d lost it for a moment. “Right . . . ,” she nodded, reordering her priorities, “the girl’s alive, but she needs medical attention.”

  He looked to her for instructions. His questioning presence forced her to stop and think. It wouldn’t do her or the girl any good if she flew into a rage. She needed a plan.

  “First,” she said, “I want you to get on the phone and arrange for an ambulance. Have them come through the back. There must be a facility Sun Yee On uses.”

  “Yes, there’s a private hospital, a good one,” said Tan. “No questions asked.”

  “Good. After that, I want you to call Shan. Tell him that I’m in the room next door with Sammy Tu. Tell him you listened at the door. Tell Shan you heard us say the girl is dead. I want you to tell him I’ve bought Sammy Tu. You heard us negotiating a wire transfer for a million dollars. We plan to pin Jia’s murder on him. That should bring him running—and alone. He won’t want anyone else to know about the girl or the money.”

  Tan looked worried. “Are you sure you want to bring him here? You shouldn’t underestimate him. He’s dangerous.”

  “Don’t worry. Just make the calls.”

  She walked over to put the barrel of the gun to the side of Sammy Tu’s head. She played with the idea of pulling the trigger. The pimp continued to weep. When he felt the barrel of the gun against his temple, he jammed his eyes closed with fear and cringed.

  After a tense moment, she decided he wasn’t worth the bullet—or the burden on her soul. She settled for slamming the barrel of the pistol down on the back of Sammy’s head. He slumped forward, unconscious. Bending over, Bai pulled the laces out of his shoes and used them to bind his hands and feet. She didn’t want him going anywhere until she’d had another chance to question him. She still needed to find out who’d hired him. And why.

  Speaking heatedly into the phone, Tan arranged for an ambulance. Then he called Shan. She listened as he sold the story convincingly.

  When he hung up, he nodded to her. “He’s in the elevator now.”

  “Good.” Her anger had grown cold—but no less potent. “I’ll be in the hallway waiting.”

  “Don’t you want me to come with you?”

  “No. Stay here.” She cast a glance at the doorway to the adjoining room. “You take care of the girl. If I don’t come back, get her out of here and let Jason know what happened. If he doubts your story, you tell him I swore on my daughter’s life. He’ll understand.”

  She could see that he wanted to argue with her, but she didn’t give him the chance. She handed him the gun. He looked at the weapon and then bowed deeply from the waist, demonstrating the respect he’d neglected earlier.

  She pulled Tan’s hatchet out of its resting place in her belt. “Don’t shoot Sammy, no matter how tempting it is. I need him.”

  Her feet carried her swiftly across the room. She looked back once as she closed the door. Tan’s eyes followed her with a worried expression.

  Turning the corner in the corridor, Bai ran toward the elevators, her body racing with adrenaline. The lights above the elevator doors informed her it was on its way up; the number 4 was lit. She skidded to a stop fifteen paces from the elevator and waited. Her life would depend on her sense of timing.

  As a child, Bai had practiced with hatchets as part of her martial schooling. She recalled throwing the heavy blades and the resulting feeling of satisfaction upon hearing the crack of wood when the hatchet split a target. She hoped her muscles remembered the experience as well.

  She held the ax at her side as she wiggled her arms to loosen her shoulders. She flexed her legs by bouncing in place. The elevator dinged to signal its arrival at the seventh floor. She took three fast steps as she swung the hatchet behind her. On the fourth step, her arm arced the hatchet over her head. She released her grip with the fifth step and watched the blade spin away as she slid to a halt.

  The hatchet somersaulted through the air with a whirring sound.

  The elevator door started to open. Through the widening crack of the door, she glimpsed Shan waiting impatiently. He looked up to see her bent over, her hands on her knees. She notched her head up to meet his gaze.

  Their eyes met. She witnessed the hatred on Shan’s face before his expression flicked to surprise. He’d seen the hatchet. His eyes became saucers. Hands flinched up to fend off the blade. Too late.

  The hatchet barely cleared the opening doors before it slammed into his forehead. The impact snapped his head back violently. His feet flew out from underneath him. He flopped on his back in the elevator with his arms and legs splayed. His body twitched for a moment before going completely still, the hatchet protruding from his forehead.

  Bai walked up to the elevator to stop it from closing. She didn’t want Shan’s body traveling from floor to floor with a hatchet covered with her fingerprints embedded in his head. Pushing the “open” button inside the elevator, she grabbed the cuffs of his trousers and pulled. He was a big man. She strained as she tugged on his pant legs. His body was halfway out of the elevator when the doors tried to close. They caught Shan at the waist and rebounded while the elevator bell dinged repeatedly in protest.

  She jumped at the sound of a voice. “Could you use a hand with that?”

  She turned frantically to find Jason flanked by four men, some of whom she knew from San Francisco. He smiled. The other four men looke
d concerned by her activities.

  “And this, gentlemen,” Jason pronounced, addressing those standing around him, “is what happens when you piss off the souxun. I want you to keep this in mind the next time you’re tempted to mess with her.”

  He gestured with his hand, and two of his men moved to gather Shan up and drag his limp body down the hall toward the back stairwell.

  She grabbed Jason’s arm to lead him back down the corridor. “Your timing is a little off. I could have used you about ten minutes ago.”

  He looked at her and shook his head in frustration. “I thought you were safe in the restaurant. It wasn’t until we saw Shan bolt for the elevator that it occurred to me you might do something stupid, like follow me.”

  “I didn’t follow you. I drew Shan and one of his men away. I thought you might be in trouble.”

  He turned aside to look at her. She could tell he was exasperated. “You’re a hard woman to protect.”

  She smiled at him. “I never said the job was easy.”

  She stopped in front of room 724 and knocked. “Tan, it’s me, Bai. Open up.”

  A few seconds later, the door swung open to reveal Tan. The automatic weapon still rested in his hand. It was pointed at the ground. Tan recognized Jason behind her and stepped away from the door to bow low as Jason stepped into the room. Jason’s men followed like shadows.

  She looked across the room and saw Sammy Tu was coming around. He was drifting in and out of consciousness, his head lolling.

  She pointed at the pimp. “Meet Sammy Tu.”

  As Jason stared at Sammy, she turned to Tan. “What about the ambulance for the girl?”

  Tan seemed shaken. His face looked pale. “They should be here any minute.”

  “Did you look in on her?” she asked.

  He nodded in response and took a deep breath. “I wish I hadn’t. Is Shan dead?”

  “He’s dead all right,” offered Jason, interrupting their conversation, “but that doesn’t explain what you’re doing here with a gun in your hand, Tan.”

  She jumped into the conversation by placing herself physically between the two men. “He only served Shan to protect his daughters. He helped me escape and worked with me to kill Shan. He did what he had to do until the time was right. He should be forgiven. After all, ‘a courageous foe is better than a cowardly friend.’”