The Mandarin's Vendetta (Rayna Tan Action Thriller Series Book 2)

by Wesley Robert Lowe

  The limo spent another fifteen minutes trolling the streets. All the buildings seemed to be variations of the same interchangeable mold—bleak, grey and spewing enough pollution to wreak havoc on the health of any living organism unfortunate enough to breathe its toxic smoke.

  Then, a surprise.

  Henry pointed to the end of a long street where an old, small concrete building stood by itself. “Let’s check that out.”

  They drove up to it and parked. Getting out to take a better look, they discovered it was an old, ramshackle church. The only throwback to yesteryear in the village-turned-city, this church was definitely not an argument for “maintaining cultural heritage.” With no upkeep, the exterior was deteriorating with ruts and cracks in the walls.

  “In the rush to modernity and materialism, spirituality is often abandoned… China has forgotten its soul.”

  “You’re preaching again, Dad.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Do you really want to see it?” asked Tex apprehensively. “It looks like it has ghosts in it.”

  “I thought the new Chinese didn’t believe in ghosts,” said Rayna.

  “Of course, there are ghosts. We just can’t talk about it and I don’t want to see one, either,” replied Tex. “But whatever you do, I am not going in.”

  “You’re a wuss.” On the spur of a crazy moment, Rayna raised her hands and yelled, “Boo!”

  “AAH! What the hell are you doing?” screamed Tex in genuine fear. “I’m going to sit in the car.”

  As Tex stepped back into the car and locked the doors, Henry turned to Rayna as they walked the few steps to the church.

  Hanging on one of the double wooden doors at the church entrance was an information plaque. This church was built by the London Missionary Society in 1888 by Dr. and Mrs. James Monroe. For current information, please contact Pastor Martin.

  The church obviously wasn’t expecting a lot of inquiries because there was no contact information for the man of cloth.

  Father and daughter stepped inside the battered place of worship.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Inside, there was no electricity and, despite the open windows airing the building out, there was a strong rancid smell. Clearly, this was not a church full of vibrant life.

  Looking to the front, Rayna and Henry saw the back of a grey-haired woman of maybe seventy, by herself, kneeling in front of a large, rough-hewn wooden cross. Dressed in fashionless dark, drab clothing, she was the oldest person they had seen in this former village.

  Henry whispered, “Let’s wait for her to finish.”

  Rayna and Henry noiselessly and respectfully slipped into the back pew. As the moments passed, despite the physical signs of neglect and desolation, Rayna felt an inexplicable warmth coming over her. She tried to dismiss it, saying to herself that she was just being sentimental, but the truth was she couldn’t deny this rich feeling of… waves of love engulfing her.

  ***

  Henry and Rayna gazed around the church while they waited for the old woman to finish praying. Looking at the walls, it was clear that, once upon a time, someone had bashed them with something hard—the patch job was spotty at best with obvious cracks and fissures. There were a dozen rows of old wooden pews that had burn marks on them. In all probability, this old building and its contents were victims of the youthful Red Guards during the Cultural Revolution.

  Half an hour later, the old woman finished her intense praying. She forced her arthritic body to stand up from the floor and turned around, surprised to see others in the room. She glanced at Henry, then she and Rayna caught each other’s eyes.

  A shattered world suddenly found itself whole again. The old woman saw herself in Rayna and Rayna saw herself in the old woman.

  They gingerly stepped toward each other. Rayna allowed the old woman to touch her cheeks, then to stroke her arms.

  “Are you the one I have been praying for?” the old woman asked, voice barely rising above a whisper. “The one I thought I would never see…?”

  This was just the beginning of a long conversation but, for now, these few words were all the communication needed.

  Rayna and the old woman burst into tears.

  “What is your name? I’m your grandmother, your Popo.”

  Rayna, former Special Forces operative, hardened veteran of innumerable enemy kills, current investment advisor handling millions, couldn’t move or say anything to this frail, elderly Chinese woman.

  Henry stepped in. “This is the baby girl I helped deliver more than twenty-five years ago, the last time I was here in Golden Corner. Ling gave her to us and what a wonderful gift she has been! Her English name is ‘Rayna.’”

  Popo’s face beamed. “Such a wonderful name.” She looked at Henry. “Where is the woman who helped you deliver Rayna?”

  “Vivian passed away a couple of years ago,” said Henry quietly.

  Daring to hope, Rayna uttered quietly, “My mother? Where is she? Can I see her, Popo?”

  Popo fought back a tear. “She went to hide from that man… your father. She has not come back. Maybe she doesn’t know he is dead.”

  Rayna swallowed, stifling the outburst of emotion welling in her that screamed to release itself. “My father is dead?”

  The old woman’s eyes caressed her granddaughter, trying to soothe her inner turmoil. “I never liked him. Ling didn’t like him… but he just forced himself on her… God is just.”

  Twenty-seven Years Ago

  Jimmy, a strong, powerful man of twenty-five, chased after Chew, a man more than twice his age, through the dirt streets of Golden Corner.

  “Where is that bitch daughter of yours? Where is my wife?”

  The local gangster thug, brandishing a gun in each hand, fired at Chew but the would-be victim was nimble and, with random side-stepping, he avoided each zinging bullet.

  “She is not your wife. My daughter would never marry an animal like you,” shouted Chew as he hit the end of the block and turned around the corner of the church.

  However, Chew was not fast enough to escape all the hot wads of lead. Three of them found their target: one in his arm, one in his back, the other in his leg.

  “AA!” screamed Chew as he tripped, bleeding. On all fours, he painfully crawled past the church and rounded the corner.

  Jimmy slowed down—no need to rush any more. He strode confidently, squeezing each gun and ready to fire. Lips curling, he sneered, “You will die, old man.”

  As Jimmy turned onto the street that Chew bled down, a hundred-and-fifty pound piece of timber came bashing down on his skull before he could unleash his small, deadly missiles. Chew had summoned every bit of strength he had to lift the log that weighed even more than he did.

  Jimmy’s body started to spasm as he hit the ground, but not before he saw a hole in the front of Chew’s shirt—one of his bullets that whistled into Chew’s back went right through his body and exited through the front.

  Summoning strength from who-knew-where, the profusely bleeding Chew lifted the log one final time. His final act of life was to flatten Jimmy’s skull, preventing him from ever hurting anyone again.

  Popo pointed to the wooden cross that hung on the wall at the front of the church. “That was made from the log that killed your father… “

  “Chew was my Gong Gong (grandfather)… your husband?”

  A longing look filled Popo’s face. It had been a long time since she had bottled up her feelings. “Yes, Gong Gong was a good man, a farmer,” she said, whispering hoarsely. “He always made sure that Ling and I had enough to eat before he ate himself… Those were hard years.”

  “My birth father, Jimmy, he was a farmer, too?”

  “No. His family was all bullies—rich people in the village. They just took whatever they wanted. The only reason Ling married him was that he threatened to kill all of us if she wouldn’t. But she could take it for only a few months before she couldn’t take it anymore and ran away.”

  “Ev
en though she was carrying… me? His baby?”

  “Especially because of you, Rayna. Ling knew that Jimmy could never be a proper father.” She turned to Henry. “You saved her.”

  “But where did Ling say she was going, Popo? Where is she?” asked Henry.

  Popo sighed, clearly disturbed. “To hide in ‘Heaven’s Gate Monastery.’”

  “Where is that?” asked Henry.

  The old woman shook her head, balling her fists tightly. “I don’t know. I looked everywhere. There is nothing with that name anywhere.”

  Nobody had noticed but, during the time Popo, Henry and Rayna were talking, a thin bearded man in his forties dressed in clerical garb entered the church. “Hello, Popo.”

  Grandmother looked to him and cried out, “Mook see! Mook see! (Minister! Minister!) This is my granddaughter, Rayna! She has come to visit from America!”

  The minister looked guardedly at Rayna, then bowed. “Very pleased to meet you.”

  Trained in psychology and having to judge people instantly as a soldier, Rayna detected telltale signs of anxiety in the shepherd. Slight compression of lips, a bit of blinking before settling down, a tense bending of fingers… He’s hiding something. “Nice to meet you, too. Pastor…?”

  Rayna’s careful attitude was obvious and the man gently responded. “Long ago I was Lau but now everyone calls me Martin.”

  Henry and Rayna were dumfounded. “You’re Pastor Martin?”

  Martin nodded. “After Martin Luther.” Looking at Henry, he asked, “And you are?”

  “I am Henry. I’m Rayna’s father.”

  “You are very blessed, Henry.”

  That’s a strange comment. “Yes, I guess so.” Henry’s eyes penetrated Martin’s for answers. Henry sensed Rayna’s unease and yes, there was something about Martin’s attitude that didn’t jive.

  “Martin is so good to us,” praised Popo, oblivious to the tension. “He is the only person who did not take a job with the factories. He just makes sure that all of us are well, teaches about Jesus on Sunday and makes sure we all get to Heaven when we die!”

  “Popo, I am nothing special.” Eyes inhaling her, Martin turned to Rayna. “What brings you to China?”

  “I work in investments and there are some opportunities in China. I’m here for meetings. While I’m here, I wanted to see if I could find out something about my birth parents.”

  Martin gave Henry a wary look. “I see. Have you found out anything?”

  “Yes, my birth father was a brute who drove my mother away.” She glanced at Popo. “If my grandfather hadn’t killed him, who knows where I’d be… If my father…” Rayna glanced at Henry, “…hadn’t helped Ling give birth and been willing to take me in, I don’t know what would have happened to me.”

  “Well, Ling, Rayna’s birth mother, didn’t give us much of a choice,” said Henry remorsefully as he ruminated on the young girl in the field. “Rayna was my one and only opportunity to be a midwife. Thank God I didn’t screw that up. You know, it’s funny how God works. Only He would have known that Vivian and I wouldn’t be able to have kids and He gave us Rayna on our honeymoon… Rayna asked me to join her here so she could find out something about where she came from, but I don’t think I can help—everything here has changed… Even my grandfather’s grave site—I think there’s a factory sitting on it now.”

  “No, no,” disagreed Popo. “The cemetery was a little way out of town in the other direction. It’s still there. Why don’t you take them there, Martin? I want to make a special meal for my granddaughter and celebrate.”

  As Rayna shifted uncomfortably, Henry asked, “Would you mind, Martin? We would be so grateful if you did.”

  Martin bowed deeply. “I would be honored to do so.”

  “Excellent. Excellent,” exclaimed Popo. “This will be the best meal you have ever eaten.”

  Rayna flashed a smile that could melt an iceberg. “I’m sure it will be,” said the newfound granddaughter, eyes glowing as she threw a gaze back at her grandmother.

  As Martin, Henry and Rayna walked toward the church exit, Popo called out, “Don’t be too long!”

  “Yes, Popo! We’ll be quick,” exclaimed Rayna, steps tingling in a way they never had before.

  Popo. It has such a nice ring to it. The old woman turned and knelt before the cross again. “Thank you, God, for letting me see what I thought I would never ever see…”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  As Rayna, Henry and Martin closed the door to the church, Martin confided, “Popo’s getting a little old. There is no cemetery and yes, there is a factory on the hill where our ancestors rest.”

  Rayna abruptly stopped. Sharp eyes turned to Martin. “What is really going on, Martin? You haven’t stopped undressing me with your eyes since we met.”

  “Rayna, stop it,” chided Henry. “Any man with a pulse would give a second and third look at you.”

  “Dad, I work in intelligence. I know when something’s not right and this has nothing to do with sex.” She glared at Martin. “You cringed when Popo told you I was her granddaughter. I saw you clench your fist when Henry introduced himself as my dad and I saw the trembling in your hands.” Rayna reached into her purse and pulled out a revolver. “I’m not taking any chances. Now, what is it? Who sent you?”

  Henry was stunned to see Rayna so confidently ready to shoot someone, but Martin provided the greater surprise. His face softened as he exhaled a small groan of relief. He forced a whisper. “Yes, I have been looking at you, but not for the reasons you think. Can you wait here for a few minutes while I go back to the church? I live there and need to do something.”

  “Go with him, Dad.” She handed Henry her gun. “And use it if you need to.”

  “Okay,” exhaled Henry nervously.

  Henry reluctantly followed Martin into the church. Popo was still on her knees. Martin opened a door and led Henry into a small room that housed a bed and sink. Martin fished a pair of scissors out of a box from under the bed and then stood in front of the wash basin.

  Martin began snipping off his beard.

  “What are you doing?” quizzed a flabbergasted Henry.

  “I have had this beard for twenty-six years trying to disguise who I am, but there is no need for me to hide anymore. Especially with Rayna here.”

  “You are confusing me, Martin. Why are you concerned with what she thinks?”

  “You will see,” replied Martin enigmatically.

  For the next five minutes, while Henry pointed the gun at him, Martin cut off the straggly hairs of his beard. He then reached under the sink and pulled out a rusty razor. After splashing some water on his face, he began shaving off the stubble. With the gun aimed unwaveringly, Henry watched Martin carefully, studying his every move. As the hair on Martin’s face disappeared, Henry’s impatience turned to Oh, my God.

  Henry put the weapon into his pocket—he didn’t need it.

  When Martin was almost done, Rayna, without warning, barged in the door. “What the hell is taking you so long?”

  Martin, now clean-shaven, turned around. There was a hint of melancholy on his face as he looked at her.

  “It’s okay, Rayna.” Henry held Rayna’s hand.

  Pain and joy welled in Martin’s eyes. “Rayna, I would never hurt you… I am your father, too. I am the one responsible for giving you life on earth.”

  Rayna had survived launches of grenades, stab wounds, shots in the leg, had an arm broken by vicious insurgents but nothing had ever hit her as hard as Martin’s last few words. “You? My birth father?”

  Henry looked at the two of them and there seemed to be no resemblance at all—unlike the obvious similarities between Rayna and her grandmother. “It’s true, Rayna,” whispered Henry.

  “But how can you know?”

  “Look at your faces,” ordered Henry.

  Martin and Rayna complied.

  “Notice anything unusual?”

  Both shook their heads.

 
Henry’s voice sharpened and his eyes focused on the pair. “That’s because both of you have exactly two identical unique physical traits. You are so used to them you don’t think they are out of the ordinary.”

  “What’s that?” asked Martin.

  “Both of you have earlobes attached directly to your head. That’s a hereditary trait caused by a recessive gene.”

  “That’s not enough, Dad,” responded Rayna.

  “No, but now smile at each other.”

  The two grinned—each of them had a prominent dimple on the right cheek in exactly the same spot. Rayna stared at Martin, heart pounding. “But I thought Popo said my birth father was killed by my grandfather for beating her.” In the past half hour, Rayna’s world had turned upside down.

  Martin shook his head. “That’s what everybody thought. I never told anybody the truth… Ling and I loved each other… she got pregnant. We were both scared. Jimmy didn’t know about it when he forced her to marry him. But she couldn’t hide it from him. They had only been married a short time and she was already getting big. That’s why he beat her. To find out who the father was… That’s why she ran away… to protect you. And me.”

  “Didn’t Jimmy or anybody suspect the two of you were together?”

  “Your mother, Rayna, was the sweetest and most beautiful girl. Guys not only in Golden Corner but from all the surrounding villages were interested in her. They gave her pastries, bags of rice, vegetables, fresh fish, wood for the fire…”

  “So how did she choose you?” queried Rayna, full of curiosity.

  “I was different. I didn’t give her anything but I… I read to her. She loved poetry and so did I. I read to her for hours and hours. Then one day, when we were alone in the woods… the place where you were born… she kissed me. Half an hour later, well, I guess that was your beginning.”