by Tim Maleeny
He just knew it was close.
Chapter Ten
Hong Kong, 21 years ago
“Stay close, Sally,” cautioned Li Mei. “The snakes are poisonous.”
Sally wasn’t listening. As Li Mei tried to navigate a clear path through the foot traffic on Bonham Strand, Sally squatted in front of a wooden cage. Inside a black cobra rose on its coils, its hood expanding like an open hand, beckoning. Sally met its gaze, neither the snake nor the little girl blinking.
Li Mei was halfway down the block before she realized Sally wasn’t in tow. Scurrying back along the stalls and open-air restaurants, she passed cages and tanks holding cobras, lizards, turtles, and even a python. Though still early, Bonham Strand was crowded, the street slick with blood. People of all ages lined up to have their creature of choice slaughtered and freshly prepared. Snake’s gall bladder wine was in great demand—the more deadly the snake, the greater the medicinal value.
Flustered, Li Mei tugged insistently at Sally’s sleeve. The little girl grudgingly forfeited the staring contest with the snake. Blinking, she turned her green eyes on Li Mei and pointed at the cobra.
“I want one,” she said simply.
Li Mei sighed and shook her head. “Come, Sally.” She took the little girl’s hand and resumed walking. “We mustn’t be late, and we have two more stops to make.”
They cut across Wing Lok Street and headed down Bonham Strand West, where ginseng wholesalers shared the street with banks made of chrome and marble. The street was a microcosm of Hong Kong, an endless juxtaposition of ancient customs and modern commerce. Throughout the city, East and West stood side by side but rarely came in contact.
A few minutes later came Central Market, a four-story structure where Queen Victoria meets Des Voex Road. Li Mei hurried Sally inside, where hapless turtles awaited a grisly end alongside sea cucumbers and salamanders, oblivious to their fate. As they passed through the meat section where tongues, intestines, and chicken feet lined the counters, Sally pointed to a collection of scrotums with a questioning look.
“What are those?”
Li Mei hesitated before answering. “Those,” she said finally, “are the worst part of men.” Never mind that they were dog scrotums and considered a delicacy, Li Mei had her own opinions. Before Sally could ask anything else, Li Mei grabbed the young girl’s hand and dragged her down the aisle, finally coming to a stop at the fruit stands.
Reaching into a wooden crate, she grabbed half a dozen tangerines. She knew of a stall on the ground floor where they could buy some sweet pastries for the rest of their morning snack. She was standing in line to pay when she felt a tugging at her clothes. Sally was pointing at a spiky yellow-green fruit that resembled a medieval mace, roughly the size of a volleyball with triangular points jutting out from the center.
Li Mei shook her head. “That is a durian, Sally. You wouldn’t like it.”
Sally started to make a face when the woman behind the counter held up a hand. Li Mei smiled and nodded. The woman reached over and broke off a piece of the durian, holding it for Sally to take.
Sally wrinkled her nose and stuck out her tongue before the fruit even touched her lips, a smell like a gas leak permeating the air. Li Mei and the woman both laughed.
“It’s called the stinky fruit,” explained Li Mei. “Go ahead, try it.”
Sally frowned at the fruit as she studied its custard yellow texture. Her expression made it clear she had lost any interest in trying this exotic and malodorous rarity.
“Don’t be afraid, Sally,” chided Li Mei. “It is only a fruit.”
The gentle taunt got an immediate reaction. Turning her gaze to Li Mei, Sally shoved the fruit into her mouth. She almost gagged but kept chewing, her eyes locked on Li Mei the entire time. By the time she swallowed, her eyes were watering.
Li Mei chuckled and shook her head. “Next time let me pick the fruit, little one.” She peeled a tangerine and handed it to Sally, who was clearly anxious to get a new taste into her mouth.
After Sally finished eating, Li Mei handed her another tangerine and told her to put it in her pocket. “One more stop before we reach your new school.” They passed a series of apartment buildings, each tower more dilapidated than the previous one. Elaborate bamboo scaffolding covered the façades of most of the buildings, workers crawling overhead like spiders while tenants and pedestrians scurried below like ants.
At Hollywood Road and Ladder Street, tucked between two graying apartment towers, they came to a temple. The stone of the outer wall was pitted and crumbling, the path to the front door worn from the passage of generations of supplicants. Taking Sally by the hand, Li Mei led her inside.
Coils of incense hung like giant beehives from the ceiling, their cloying stench heavy in the air. Sally’s nose twitched as she tried not to sneeze. The temple consisted of one large, crowded room. Minor Taoist and Buddhist deities lined the walls on either side of the entrance. Cats walked lazily back and forth, and fortunetellers sat cross-legged along the walls, tipping bamboo chim sticks from bowls onto the ground. At the far end of the room stood four larger statues, each wearing an elaborately embroidered jacket draped over its stone shoulders.
Pushing through the small crowd of people, Li Mei led Sally toward the heart of the temple.
“This is Man Cheong,” said Li Mei, gesturing toward the first statue. “The god of writing—you see the pen?” She swept her arm toward the next figure. “And this is Kwan Tai, the god of war.” Li Mei let Sally study each figure in turn before pointing to the third statue. “This is Shing Wong, who protects this part of Hong Kong from evil, and this—” she paused, wanting to make sure Sally was following her. “This is Pao Kung, the god of justice.”
“Pao Kung.” Sally mouthed the name silently to herself. She remembered the night they first arrived in Hong Kong, when Li Mei told her of the man who killed her parents and spoke of justice. She still wasn’t sure exactly what Li Mei meant by justice, but she knew it was something she desperately wanted. And now they were standing in front of the god of justice, after Li Mei had said it was hard to find. Sally stared at the impassive figure on the altar, waiting for some kind of sign.
She jumped as a gong and drum were struck simultaneously, the combined boom echoing around the small space. Li Mei, seeing the shock in Sally’s eyes, patted her on the head.
“Someone has made an offering, Sally.” She pointed to the wooden boxes next to the statues. “When someone petitions the gods, the drum and gong are sounded.”
Sally looked from Li Mei to the statue in front of her, her tiny brow wrinkled with thought. After a long moment, she reached into her pocket and took out the tangerine. Walking to the wooden box at Pao Kung’s feet, she raised the lid and carefully placed the fruit inside. As she turned from the altar, an attendant at the back of the temple struck the gong and drum. As the base notes cascaded off the walls, Sally walked out of the temple, her mouth set in a determined line, green eyes bright with anticipation.
It took another half hour of walking before they were near the school. Turning down an alley lined with high stone walls, Li Mei slowed as if searching for an address, though none of the doors in this neighborhood seemed to be marked. Sally was beginning to suspect they were lost when Li Mei cried out and pointed to a solid oak door set deep into the wall and painted black. Carved into the center of the door were Chinese characters that had been painted red. Next to the door, set on a nail, was a hand-held gong and mallet.
Li Mei took the gong and struck it three times. In the enclosed space of the alley the sound carried, each new strike bringing another wave of energy to the summons.
They didn’t have to wait very long.
The door creaked loudly as it swung outward, revealing a young woman of no more than fourteen. She spoke rapidly to Li Mei in Cantonese, too fast for Sally to follow. Sally spoke Cantonese well for her age, thanks to Li Mei, but was most comfortable with Japanese, her mother’s language. English had been spoken w
henever her father was home. Sally moved naturally in and out of each language depending on who she was with, not differentiating as an adult normally would. She just knew words, and which words went together to express her ideas, and that seemed to work fine. But when adults talked quickly, she sometimes found herself getting lost, only tracking every third word or so.
Whatever Li Mei had barked did the trick, because the young woman bowed before leading them to a small courtyard. With the door closed behind them, all sounds of the city seemed to disappear. As Sally looked around at the sandy ground of the courtyard, it felt as if Hong Kong was a world away. Small trees and bamboo lined the walls, effectively blocking any view of the city. At the far end of the courtyard stood another wall maybe ten feet in height with another heavy wooden door at its center, through which the young woman now disappeared.
Li Mei shifted nervously as they waited, looking from Sally to the closed doors, the one behind them as well as the one directly ahead. Sally had never known Li Mei to be antsy and wanted to ask why she was fidgeting, but just as Sally opened her mouth the door in front of them swung open.
A man was walking toward them. He wore black cotton pants bound tightly around his calves, his ankles exposed above thin black shoes. His black shirt was loose in the arms and the waist, held in place with a broad red sash. He was on the tall side, but Sally’s impression was more of girth. Even from a distance he seemed thick, especially in the shoulders and chest.
He stopped a good twenty feet away, still partially covered by the shadow of the wall behind him, and gestured toward Li Mei, who made a cursory bow and then turned toward Sally.
“Wait here, little one.”
Li Mei walked slowly toward the man, looking over her shoulder and forcing a smile. From where Sally stood, she couldn’t make out the man’s features, but she thought he was smiling at her, too.
Li Mei and the man stood close together, their voices soft and insistent. At one point, Li Mei pointed at Sally and raised her voice. The man took a small pouch from his belt and gave it to Li Mei. Days later, Sally would reflect on how strange it was for the school to be giving Li Mei money, and not the other way around, but she was too young to grasp what was happening. After almost ten minutes of discussion, Li Mei called to Sally and asked her to join them.
Sally bowed as she came upon them, as she had been taught. She kept her eyes on Li Mei, looking for cues to her behavior.
“This is Sally,” said Li Mei. “She knows some Cantonese, Japanese, and even English.” She smiled proudly, adding, “And she is a dragon.” Sally had heard Li Mei say that before, referring to the year of her birth. Every child in Asia learned about their animal, compared its strengths and weaknesses with those of other children.
“A dragon, heh?” said the man, his voice like rolling gravel. “So am I, little one. Twenty-four years before you, but still a dragon.” He reached out and grabbed Sally by the chin, turning her head toward him.
Sally gasped as she saw his face.
A jagged scar marred his features, starting above his right eye and running zig-zag across his cheekbone down to his jaw. As he smiled it jumped like an electric spark, the raised tissue livid in the morning light. Sally had the sudden urge to hide behind Li Mei, but she held her ground, twisting her head to free her jaw from his coarse grip.
“And what is it you want, little one?” the man asked, a mischievous or malicious light in his eyes, Sally couldn’t tell which. “What is it you want when you grow up?”
Sally looked at the ground for a moment before turning to Li Mei. When she spoke, her voice was so soft that her aged guardian had to lean close to hear the question. Sally remembered the god in the temple, but she couldn’t remember his name.
“What did she say?” demanded the man with the scar.
Li Mei glanced at Sally before answering. She knew her reasons for bringing the girl here, but she would be lying to say she had no doubts.
“Justice,” said Li Mei simply. “She wants justice.”
The man smiled broadly and barked out a laugh, the lightning scar jumping from his eye to his mouth. He bowed deeply toward Sally and waved his arm toward the heavy door behind him.
“Very well, little dragon,” he said. “Time for you to go to school.”
Chapter Eleven
San Francisco, present day
Cape called Beau the next morning and said he was hoping to see Sally later that day. He didn’t mention that he’d already tried to see Sally the night before, so technically he wasn’t lying. He really did hope to see Sally later in the day—he just didn’t think he would.
“So why are you calling?” asked Beau. “To tell me you’re gonna call later?” Cape thought he heard a mildly suspicious tone in his friend’s voice. “Since when did you become so responsible?”
“I need someone to talk to,” replied Cape.
“You want the name of my therapist?”
“About the case,” said Cape. “I want to talk about the case.”
“What case?” asked Beau. “I don’t have a case anymore, remember?”
Cape sighed, realizing that asking Beau for help this week might be a bad idea. “The boat,” he said. “I want to talk about the boat.”
“You mean the ship.”
“Whatever.”
“OK, talk to me,” replied Beau, suspicion turning to certainty. “But since you haven’t talked to Sally, I’m not sure what there is to talk about.”
“Look,” replied Cape, “you’re saying you have a hunch, that Sally might know something.”
“Go on,” said Beau, his voice noncommittal.
“So I’m checking it out,” said Cape. “You already said there would be more leads than you and Vinnie could handle, not to mention the feds.”
“Don’t mention the feds,” groaned Beau.
Cape ignored him. “So I want to get in front of this thing.”
There was a long pause, and neither one spoke. Finally, Beau broke the silence with a loud sigh into the phone.
“You’re gonna talk to Sally,” said Beau. A statement, not a question.
“Absolutely,” said Cape. Well, eventually, with any luck, if she hasn’t left town, and if she’s still alive. “Fair enough,” he said. “But will you help me?”
“What do you want to know?”
“I want to talk to someone who was on the ship,” said Cape.
Beau paused again before answering.
“If I were you,” he said, “I’d talk to a guy named Mitch Yeung.”
“Who’s he?”
“A cop,” replied Beau. “A good one. He and I came up together at the Academy.”
“I thought you started your career in L.A.”
“So did Mitch,” said Beau. “Transferred just a few months ago—wife’s mom lives in San Francisco. He’s been working Narcotics, my old division. But they’ve reassigned him for this investigation. In case you missed his last name, Mitch is Chinese, first generation. He’s helping the feds interview the refugees.”
“And since he’s new to the department…” began Cape.
“Right.” Beau finished the thought. “Even if there is ‘widespread corruption,’ as the paper claimed today, it probably don’t apply to a new guy like Mitch. So he’s free of suspicion, as far as Management Control is concerned, which makes the feds a little less paranoid about having him around.”
“What’s Management Control?”
“Sorry,” said Beau. “That’s the new name for Internal Affairs—they’re workin’ on their image.”
“You’re kidding.”
“They got new stationery and everything.”
“My tax dollars at work.”
“You bet,” said Beau. “But no matter who you ask, Mitch is rock solid.”
“Good enough,” said Cape. “You’ll call him?”
“Yeah,” replied Beau. “But don’t waste the man’s time.”
“I work fast.”
“I hope so,” replied
Beau.
Me, too, thought Cape.
Chapter Twelve
Hong Kong, 21 years ago
Sally was on her own.
Li Mei left her with the fierce-looking man, telling Sally she would visit her often. The old woman’s voice caught as she said it, and Sally thought Li Mei’s eyes looked wet, but Li Mei had already turned and walked through the front gate before Sally could think of anything to say.
As soon as Li Mei was gone, a young girl appeared at Sally’s side. She was tall and lean, her black hair cropped short, almond eyes set wide in a pretty face. Sally guessed she was at least eight or nine, but it was hard to tell. Sparing only a cursory glance at Sally, the girl stood before the scarred man and bowed.
“This is Sally,” he said, at which point the young woman turned toward Sally and repeated the bow. A smile flashed across the girl’s face, disappearing so quickly Sally thought she might have imagined it.
“I am Jun.”
Sally nodded in return but didn’t say anything.
“Show Sally around,” said the man. “Then bring her to me.”
“Yes, Master Xan,” said Jun, bowing again. Xan turned and walked across the packed earth of the open courtyard. When he was out of sight, the smile reappeared on Jun’s face, but only for an instant, as if she feared someone would catch her having fun.
“How old are you?” asked Jun, looking down at Sally.
“Five,” said Sally, adding quickly, “and eight months.”
Jun nodded, then reached out and took Sally’s hand. “Come and see your new home.”
Your new home.
The phrase struck Sally with a sudden finality, as if the last few weeks had been a game, just a field trip with Li Mei. Now she was alone, standing with this girl she’d just met, who was reminding Sally that her parents were gone and never coming back.
