After the Range Rover drove fifty feet, Barry stopped the car long enough for Chuck to get out and hurl a lit flare at the truck. In three seconds, the entire truck was engulfed in flames, then KABOOM!
“Arthur, we’re taking you to a doctor,” announced Barry.
“It’s only a surface wound,” retorted Arthur. “Besides, we have to look pretty for our presentation tomorrow.”
“You’ll look better if you’re not dead from blood loss.”
“Please, spare me the melodramatics. You’re patching me up and I’ll rest tonight. Group, tomorrow, 5 a.m. Meeting.”
The maid who had not uttered word since offering her help, squeaked out, “Can we eat first before sleeping? I haven’t eaten all day.”
Rayna turned to the girl. Instead of a maid, she discovered a frightened but brave young teen who had risked her life to save two complete strangers. “Let the men take Arthur to get fixed up. I’ll take you for a bite. What’s your name?”
“Ling.”
Ling. Rayna’s heart flew to her mouth. The hardass former Special Ops team leader melted. Synchronicity. Ling was the name of her birth mother.
Rayna made a call.
“Reverend Henry Tan. Can I help you?”
Rayna pushed her cell back, looking at it with a puzzled expression, then put it back to her ear. “Dad, I’ll have to call you back. There’s too much noise.”
“No, no. It’s the restaurant. It’s huge and full of people. You wouldn’t believe it, Rayna. They have five special rooms with just live seafood. A dozen kinds of fish, five different species of clams, freshwater shrimp, sea shrimp, river shrimp, lake shrimp, horse crabs, mitten crabs, hairy crabs and much more. It’s amazing.”
“That sounds fantastic. Dad, do you mind if I join you for dinner. I’m bringing a friend.”
“Of course. That means we can order more. The reservation is in an hour and a half at the Guangzhou Imperial Palace Restaurant. I just got here early to look.”
“We’ll see you then.” Rayna turned to Ling in her maid’s uniform. “Let’s buy you some clothes first.”
Chapter Fourteen
The Range Rover dropped Rayna and Ling two blocks away from the Guangzhou Imperial Restaurant at one of China’s ubiquitous street markets. It had been awhile since Rayna had been to one, but the circus-like atmosphere of wondrous sights, boisterous sounds, and heady aromas always enthralled her. Hole-in-the-wall shops that were packed from floor to ceiling with all kinds of useful and useless items; small restaurants where you could see cooks working their culinary magic with woks over soaring flames; Chinese pastries being fried outside on open carts; an old man carrying his parakeet in his birdcage; an open air seafood restaurant with clams, oysters and fish on display; hawkers trying to sell fake iPhones or padded bras…
Rayna stepped into a tiny shoe store packed from floor to ceiling with loafers, pumps, high heels, flats, sandals… anything you could put on your feet at a fraction of the cost of department stores. No matter where you’re from, no matter how much or how little money you have, women seem to have a universal desire to buy shoes.
Rayna and Ling picked out half a dozen pairs each for both of them to try, driving the frenzied, middle-aged female shop owner crazy.
“Why did you come to Guangzhou?” asked Rayna as she slipped on a pair of black pumps.
As Ling took off her brown sandals and pointed to a tan pair, she replied, “Our village is dying. All the young people left because there are no jobs for farmers anymore.”
Rayna gave a quick affirmative nod as she stood up and looked at the shoes in the floor mirror. Ever since Chairman Mao’s Great Leap Forward, there had been a push to transform China from an agrarian society to an urban one. “How long have you been here?”
“A year ago. I tried to get a hukou, but there was no chance so I started working for Mr. Ming. I make a thousand yuan a month.”
“What?” gaped Rayna. “That’s less than half the minimum wage.”
Ling shrugged. “I don’t know. The Mandarin got me the job. If I wanted to make more, I’d have to…”
The words hung in the air but Rayna understood. The world’s oldest profession was not going to claim Ling. “Who’s the Mandarin?”
“I don’t know. I never met him, but he gets jobs for all of us.”
“Stop looking! Start buying or get out!” squawked the shoe store owner. “I need the space for paying customers.”
“We’ll take this pair,” decided Rayna, pointing to the shoes on Ling’s feet.
“But only if you give us a ninety percent discount,” glowered Ling.
“You robber! My children will starve to death if I give you that price. Ten percent discount.”
Ling threw her arms in the air in disgust. “You’re crazy. You think I’m rich? I’m going to go next door if you don’t give me a better price.”
“How much you want to pay?”
The back and forth bantering went on for another ten minutes. To someone like Rayna, who was not used to the intensity of Asian bargaining, the insults and gnashing of teeth over pennies was crazy. However, Ling knew her stuff. In the end, Rayna had bought all six pairs of shoes for a sixty percent discount.
“You did pretty well in there,” admired Rayna as they carried Ling’s bags of loot.
“I’m going to do better in here,” asserted Ling resolutely as they entered the clothing shop next door. “And, this time, let me do all the talking. I’ll get a better deal that way.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
***
By the time, the hour was up, Rayna’s and Ling’s arms were full of bags of clothes, shoes and purses. What really astounded Rayna was that everything they bought had a designer label. When Rayna pressed the clerks about the authenticity of their product, they all vigorously defended the genuineness of their goods. Rayna couldn’t argue. She frequented high end boutiques and the goods she and Ling bought had the same quality and feel as items that she would have gladly paid ten times the price she bought them for.
Outside the restaurant, Rayna called Tex, who promised to come right away. She then cautioned Ling, “Whatever you say, do not tell my father about what went on today at Ming’s home. When he asks, and I know he will ask, tell him that your boss just died and the family couldn’t keep you any longer.”
“That’s not a lie,” exclaimed Ling. “It’s the truth.”
“Yes, but not the whole truth. Got it?”
Ling nodded knowingly.
Chapter Fifteen
The restaurant hostess led Rayna, Tex and Ling through the cavernous eating establishment. Typical Chinese restaurant, people were shouting loudly, laughing raucously and enjoying their meals while drinking copious amounts of the famous Chinese alcohol—Bai Jiu (white alcohol).
“Here you are,” said the hostess as they arrived at a private room and opened the door.
“Welcome, welcome, welcome,” greeted Henry, rising as Ling entered the room. “I’m Henry Tan. Please sit.”
As the three newcomers seated themselves, Ling introduced herself. “Thank you, Uncle. I’m Ling. Thank you for inviting me to dinner.” (In keeping with Chinese custom, “uncle” or “auntie” are normal titles when addressing someone older who is more than a business associate but not a family member.)
The attentive waitress poured Jasmine tea into small Chinese porcelain cups for the group. “Ling?” Henry shot a glance at his smiling daughter. “That’s a very nice name. Quite meaningful. How did you meet Rayna?”
“Rayna is most kind. She saw me crying. I was a maid for the last few months. It was my first job. My boss just died and the family could not keep me any longer.”
“Oh, that’s too bad. Do you have any plans yet?”
“I… I’m not quite sure yet, but I will have to get a job.”
“A young girl like you should be in school. How old are you?”
“I’m fifteen, but I cannot go to school. No school will take me. I don’t ha
ve hukou for Guangzhou.”
Henry nodded his head. His pastor’s mind was churning but he wasn’t ready to say anything yet. “Well, you’re a young girl with your whole life ahead of you. Are you going to get another job?”
“I guess so. I think the Mandarin can find me another job.” Ling’s eyes brightened. “But, if I could, I want to be a singer or movie star or doctor.”
“That’s a strange combination. Singer or movie star I understand, but doctor? Why’s that?”
“Because my grandfather can’t afford one. And I think he will die soon if he doesn’t see one.”
“How about your parents? Don’t they have any money saved up?”
“They died. They came to work here a few years ago but got sick and nobody would treat them. No papers and no money.”
A waitress brought in a large bowl of soup and ladled it out in individual bowls. Ling’s last comment silenced all until after the server finished placing the bowls onto each person’s plate and left.
“Where are you from, Ling?” Henry asked.
“Our village is a twelve-hour bus ride away. It’s called Tiansahn (Heaven’s Mountain.)”
“Rayna has meetings tomorrow.” Henry smiled. “Maybe Tex can drive us there to visit your grandparents.”
“Could you, Uncle?” cried Ling in a voice filled with I-can’t-believe-this-is-true. “I haven’t seen them since I came here.”
“I’m at your disposal,” quipped Tex as he checked his smart phone for directions. “If I drive, we should be able to get there in seven hours.”
“Sounds good to me. Rayna?”
“That’s great, Dad. Ling can stay with us tonight then.”
The meal suddenly tasted a whole lot better and the din created in the private room was about as cacophonous as the main restaurant.
***
Absolutely stuffed and exhausted, the three returned to the Oceania. Their two-bedroom suite featured beds lined with thousand thread Egyptian cotton sheets, Italian marble bathroom floors and original pieces of Asian fusion art on the walls.
Ling studied the room critically, noting the wide-trimmed crown moldings, soft understated hues of paint, Scandinavian custom-designed lighting and the hand-knotted Tibetan rug covering the mahogany hardwood floor.
“Mr. Ming’s place is nicer than this. It’s a lot more colorful. This is kind of boring,” said Ling. “But I’d rather be with you here.”
Rayna grinned. To a teenager, gaudy indulgence trumped understated elegance every time.
“Thanks, Ling. Get some rest. We have a long day tomorrow,” yawned Henry. He went directly to his room. A few minutes later, Rayna put her ear to the door and heard the gentle snores of her father.
Fifteen minutes later, Ling crawled into bed and snuggled beside Rayna. The young girl leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you, Rayna, for caring.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Can I ask you a question?” Ling asked.
“Sure, why not?”
“How come you’re not married?”
Rayna sat up. “Did my father tell you to ask me that?”
Ling shook her head. “No, I’m just wondering… You know, I want to meet a nice, good man and fall in love. He’ll love me even though I did some bad things. We’ll walk in the park, sing karaoke and he’ll cook for me.”
“Anything else?”
Ling’s schoolgirl eyes lit up. “He must be the handsomest man in the world.”
Was I like that at her age? Yeah, for sure. Rayna raised knowing eyebrows as she turned off the light beside the bed. “Good night, Ling. I hope you meet your prince someday.”
“I hope you do too, Rayna.”
Chapter Sixteen
Her moans grew louder, her breaths more rapid as exquisite, painful passion overcame her. Shivering and quivering, her nineteen-year-old body had never experienced anything like this from any of the college boys that she did for free or any of the obese American tourists who willingly gave her five hundred dollars for an hour of her time.
Annalee pulled the man tight to her tender breasts, never wanting the waves of ecstasy rocking her body to end. Her fingernails clawed at his shoulders as his tongue drove down her throat.
He had been with her for five years, pulling her out of the shanty town and giving her this place to stay. She didn’t call him her “pimp.” He was much more than that. But he never cared who else she bedded. Every visit, she made sure that she gave him two-thirds of her earnings. He never asked for it but she had heard what happened to those that “forgot” a payment.
But that meant little to her… she was his.
And then the phone began to ring. The man froze for a moment, then stopped.
“NO! Not now!” she screamed, but he ignored her and pushed her off his body.
“Stupid bitch. Don’t you ever tell me what to do again.”
The tone of his voice spoke louder than words. “I’m sorry. Of course. It’s just that you are…”
The special ring tone was given to only one person—his son, and no matter the circumstance, he would always take his call.
Especially since the boy had not called for almost a week.
Finally. He tapped the answer button on cell. “Jackson. Good of you to call. What’s happening? How’s school?”
The voice at the other end responded. It had the accent and resonance of a middle-aged American black man. “No, sorry, sir. I’m not Jackson. Are you his father?”
The man sat upright in the bed, pushing the girl who was trying to paw him onto the floor. Darkness covered an evil face as he mouthed at her to f*** off before answering. “Yes, I am Jackson’s father, the Mandarin. What’s going on?”
Idiot name. “Mr. Mandarin, I’m Sheriff Ron Clemens from the San Roca Police Department in California. I’m very sorry to inform you that your son Jackson is dead. I found your number by going through the names list on his cell phone.”
The man was stunned and couldn’t speak, he was shaking so hard. After seven seconds, the policeman came back on. “Mr. Mandarin? Are you still there?”
“Y… yes, I am. Are you sure it’s him? What happened?”
“It’s a positive identification, Mr. Mandarin. Lisa Henderson, the waitress at the bar where your son was a regular, confirmed it.”
“Bar?”
“Yessir. Jackson was a combination of both drunk and high when he attacked his friend, the bartender and the waitress in the bar. He then tried to assault a police officer by hurling a knife at him. In self-defense, the policeman shot back. Unfortunately, the knife deflected into your son.”
The man tried to control an erupting volcanic anger. “My son doesn’t drink nor does he use drugs.”
“I’m sorry for your loss and I understand how you feel. Would you like me to text you a photo?”
“Yes. Please do.”
The girl watched the man. It was impossible to know what he was thinking. But definitely, something was very wrong.
It didn’t take long for her suspicions to be confirmed.
A few seconds later, a photo of a very dead Jackson arrived on the man’s phone.
The man was struck dumb. With one small image, his carefully constructed world had shattered. “I will be in San Roca tomorrow and make all arrangements then.”
“Thank you, sir. And my condolences for your loss,” said the law officer on the other end of the phone with phony solicitousness.
The man clicked off the phone and glared at the girl on the floor. He latched onto her and yanked her onto the bed. For the next hour, he savaged and brutalized her, expending every bit of energy and hurt he could on her. She tried to satisfy him, but he was in no mood for her feeble attempts. His blazing eyes burned into hers as his body punished her with his anger.
At the end of an hour, he pulled himself off her. He threw a thousand dollars at her, and then went to the washroom where he took a shower and freshened up. After he was finished, he went back into the bedroom
and started putting on his clothes. He had not spoken a word since he got off the phone with the policeman.
This is what Annalee had dreamed of. She thought the only reason the Mandarin didn’t want to marry her and make her his own was because of his son.
And now that impediment was gone.
“Did I make you happy?” she asked, rubbing her body against his. It was an act, the last remnant of hope.
The Mandarin yanked her off him and threw her body against the wall with such force that he broke a few of her ribs.
“Happy?” gnashed the Mandarin. “You are a whore. Whores are good for only one thing. But I will never see you again.”
With that, the Mandarin walked out.
Annalee started bawling as she tried to pull herself off the floor.
An hour later, all the tears had been vanquished. Her eyes were crimson, her arms were blue from being crushed, her loins were raw from his unrelenting savagery, her scalp was tender because he had almost ripped her hair out, her breasts showed the purplish bite marks and drops of blood where his teeth had broken through her skin and her broken ribs ached…
She never again wanted to spend another second in bed with a man again.
The truth was, she probably couldn’t. Without using any whips, ropes, rods or any other items that her deviant partners inflicted upon her, the Mandarin, with just his body, had so severely devastated her that it would be months before she healed, let alone earn some money for her tuition and living expenses—she wasn’t much of a saver.
She had been poor before but she would not be poor again. There was no point in trying to complain to the authorities… the man owned many of them.
There was only one solution.
She stepped through the open glass door of the apartment, then climbed onto the balcony’s concrete railing.
Eyes welling full of tears, she whispered, “Goodbye, Mandarin.”
The young mistress took a step forward… then plummeted thirty stories to her death.
The Mandarin's Vendetta (Rayna Tan Action Thriller Series Book 2) Page 6
