“Andra? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” But her eyes dodged his as she opened her bag and pulled out her phone. She balanced the phone in the palm of her hand. “It’s been ages since I’ve contacted him but I’ll never forget how intrigued I was by his project. I never thought much about his excuse for dropping it so quickly, until now.” She pushed a strand of hair from her face. “Now I wonder if there was something else behind his withdrawal from the idea.”
“You’re saying he actually considered a project involving this alleged society of women?”
“Exactly. I suspect from what he said that it’s a recent phenomenon, not a cultural oddity that has age and tradition making it worthy of study. Although, I believe at the time he thought it was.”
Minutes later she replaced the phone into her bag. “Jeff Xiu is one of the professors at City University. I don’t know if he can shed any light on the situation but it’s worth a try. I’ve arranged a meeting.” Andra shivered and looked around. “I don’t know about you but I . . .” She shook her head. “This may sound silly but it’s just a feeling.”
“Andra, what?”
“I don’t feel safe here.”
He pushed his chair back.
“No, Max.” She held up her hand. “I don’t mean here, this restaurant. I mean in Hong Kong.”
“I think despite what the police have ordered, we need to consider breaking the law for once in our lives.”
“Leaving Hong Kong,” she agreed. “I don’t know what the penalty is for not following police orders but I’m not prepared for the alternative. I mean, if they happen to be wrong. What if I’m relying on the police to protect me and they fail?”
Her question hung bleakly between them.
“Suppose we drop the doll now—give it to them,” he said.
“Them? Not the police, so who then?” She turned her hands palms up. “Max, we have no idea who they are, and I rather doubt if we could just safely deliver it into their hands. This is way out of our control. I don’t think we have any other option than to follow this through to the end.”
She lifted the satchel that held the doll from his lap before he had a chance to stop her. “I’ll carry this thing for a bit.” She laughed up at him. “If you don’t mind.” She was already walking toward the door.
“Not a good idea, Andra. Give it back.”
“Humor me,” she said with a laugh as they stepped onto the sidewalk.
Outside the balmy tropical air was edged with the acidic edge of exhaust. Andra laughed softly and began to walk as he hurried to catch up with her. Her lithe figure moved with a dancer’s grace and for a second he was mesmerized by the subtle sway of her hips. He was slow to catch a slight blur of movement to their left. And before he could act, a slim young man broke free of the constant flow of pedestrian traffic and pushed into Andra, knocking her down.
“Hey!” Max shouted and lunged forward as the man wrestled with the bag that was still firmly anchored across Andra’s shoulders.
“Let go!” she commanded, even as she struggled to her feet.
Max leapt the few feet that separated him from Andra.
The youth ran.
Max followed but was hampered by the crowded street and the fact that unlike his quarry, he dodged around people rather than knocking into them. Within a few blocks, the man veered from the busy street and down one of the many narrow alleys that intersected the streets and ran behind the buildings. Max turned, running to the first intersection where one alley met another, but there was nothing but steam rising from sewer grates and garbage scattered among the alley’s clutter. The odd rustling and scratching indicated that he might not be alone, that others inhabited this alley, the homeless, the scavengers, and rats. Within forty feet, it was clear that the young man was gone. Max walked a few steps farther into the shadowed alley, where the grit and grime of the city’s smog, blackened the backside of shops and apartments. A derelict held out his hand for coin as a clutch of newspapers lifted and skittered down the alley, driven by a slight breeze. Overhead, footsteps clattered on an iron fire escape, but when he looked up it was only a small boy chasing a cat. He jogged a few more steps to another junction but there was nothing, only another derelict, an older, toothless woman, and the faceless backside of worn buildings that could hide anything. Finally, Max thought of Andra, alone on the street, and turned to hurry back to her.
She was at the junction of the alley waiting for him.
“Max.” Andra rushed over to him. “Are you okay?”
“That was my line.” He brushed a streak of dirt from her cheek. His hands cupped her face, her breath warm and soft between them. “You’re not hurt?”
Her nose wrinkled. “I may have twisted my wrist.” She rolled her shoulder. “I thought he wrenched my shoulder out of its socket. But it’s good. Just my wrist that hurts like hell.”
“Let me see.”
He took her slim hand and pressed gently along the slight bones of her wrist. For all her height she was made with delicate finery like a slim crystal vase. She wasn’t as tough as she’d like him to believe.
“Ouch.” She pulled her hand back. “I’m okay, really. I don’t think it’s sprained or broken.”
The ebb and flow of traffic continued around them as if the attempted theft had never occurred. And that thought disturbed Max more than anything. Despite the crowd, they were alone.
“Look, sore wrist aside, I’m fine and apparently we’re running out of time. That attack was no mistake.”
“I know.” Max nodded grimly as he raised an arm and a cab broke free of the endless pack of vehicles and slipped to the curb. He held her hand, determined that this time she wouldn’t dodge out of his sight. She wouldn’t, he knew that. But as it had been from their first meeting, he needed the feel of her against him, even if it was just her palm against his. He put his free hand on the handle, nodded to the driver but didn’t open the door. “Didn’t you say that last night you smashed the intruder’s hand over and over with a can of some sort of hair product?”
“I did.”
“The man who attacked you right now . . . his right hand was bandaged.”
Shock registered in her eyes and her hand shook. He reached for the bag and slung it over his shoulder. It had been a mistake to discount danger even for a moment. He wouldn’t do it again, nor would he allow her to. “Did he look familiar to you at all?”
Andra shook her head. “No. I didn’t get a close enough look either now or last night.” She pulled her hand free and rubbed her wrist. “The attack was a surprise. I didn’t notice him. Damn.”
“You’re sure you’re all right?”
“Fine.”
“Then let’s get to this Jeff Xiu and see what he has to say. From there we can discuss what to do next.”
On the ride up Victoria Peak, while Andra provided him with a running commentary of the history of the area, all he could think of was the danger that had threatened her since he’d arrived. He suspected she was bolstering herself for the visit ahead and using the chatter as a diversion for the cabdriver, who appeared to be taking more than a casual interest in them.
“Where did you say you were from?” the driver asked Max, peering curiously in the mirror and speaking with unusually flawless English.
“I didn’t,” Max replied.
“We’re expats,” Andra added, glancing hurriedly at Max. “Bangkok is where we’re from at the moment. A few days to see the sights and then back to work.” She glanced at Max with a guilty expression and shrugged.
Max nodded. The taxi driver was no doubt harmless but that was an assumption that would now be foolhardy to make. Less information, or disinformation in their case, was a wise move. Silence settled in the cab as the road wound upward. Lush forest bracketed the road and then seemed to part to allow luxury apartments to straddle the slope. To their right, and hundreds of feet above them, the back of the public tram’s red carriages could be seen as it climbed toward
Mount Victoria’s rocky peak.
They stopped in front of a slim-hipped modern high-rise whose tinted glass windows hinted at secrets behind its smoky glass. Around the building neatly clipped bushes provided a belt of nature that was fronted by orchids in full bloom, impossibly delicate reminders that this garden was vigilantly cared for.
“This is it,” Andra said as she headed to the apartment. “He’s on the twenty-third floor.”
“You’re all right?” he asked, as if her nod of assurance would negate everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours.
“Fine, Max,” she replied and soon they were in an elevator that seemed to slide on silken cables. The possibilities that lay ahead hung uncomfortably between them. But even if it had been a mistake to come here, there was no way either of them could turn back now.
Chapter Eight
Fifteen minutes later, Professor Jeff Xiu paced in front of a wall of windows that extended to three corners of the sitting room. Mountains rose in the background, accenting city points. To the right, the harbor sparkled aqua blue as a ship turned slowly into port, while the distant white dots of smaller boats seemed to shift to give it a wide berth. And on the edges of the harbor, more distant mountains rose in rocky crags that appeared to cradle the frenetic pace of the city.
“I heard the rumor of a village of women in my early college days. That was a good fifteen years ago.” Jeff strode away from the window. His dark hair gleamed as the early afternoon sun spun bright shards through the copper-gilded blinds. “Until I began my research I thought it was only rumor. Turns out it exists in a remote area in south central China, impossible to get to by commercial means. It isn’t an old village. Throwbacks, I like to call them, the occupants, that is. It consists of women who have no family or who escaped abuse of all sorts. More like a women-run shelter turned village.” His smile was lopsided. “I visited once. I wanted it to be the subject of my thesis.” He sighed. “Unfortunately, it was not to be.”
“Why not?” Max leaned forward.
“In a way they are almost like a triad. Self-contained, in charge of their own future, and willing to go after anyone who stands in their way. The only difference is that unlike a triad they have a leader, Fu.”
“Fu?” Max and Andra exchanged a look.
“No last name. Just that. Rather like Bono or Madonna, and I suppose that maybe she’s a rock star in her own right. But yes, it would have been an incredible thesis, but she was adamant that it not be written.” He turned to the window. He stood silently for a minute with his legs spread and his hands behind his back before turning to face them. “She told me that if I persisted, things would happen in my life that would make me regret ever putting the words to paper.”
“And you believed her?”
“I would have written it anyway. She was a woman. A woman in a village of women, what was she going to do? Although, I must admit they were well guarded and I more than likely underestimated them. In fact, later I knew I did.”
“Later?” Andra asked. “What are you saying? Were they armed?”
“I believe Fu mentioned martial arts. But that wasn’t what convinced me.” He shook his head. “Whether they were armed or not, I have no idea. At the time I saw no weapon. I contacted Fu and was met outside the village and accompanied every step of the way in—blindfolded.” He shook his head again. “I wouldn’t admit then that it was all rather intimidating, that I might not have been in control of the situation. I admit I approached the whole idea of a village of women with typical male chauvinism.” He sank into a nearby chair, as if his limbs would no longer hold him. “Then he visited. He was not a large man and he never introduced himself except to say that Fu was a dear friend.” He held out the palm of his hand. “There was no gun. Like the women . . .” He wiped the back of his hand across his neck. “I’ll admit their power—I suspect that they didn’t need weapons. And he, I knew he would kill me if I didn’t listen. I have never been so intimidated before or since. I shall hold the mark of his visit and the warning for a lifetime.” He took a deep breath. “It was all I needed. Now I look at this to remind me that evil does exist.”
Tattooed on the man’s palm was a small, slightly primitive but incredibly clear heart.
“He didn’t have a name, the man who tattooed you?”
Jeff shrugged.
“Can you tell us where the village is?”
“I wouldn’t even if I could,” Jeff replied. “I was never given directions to the place, only to the man who could fly me there. And, like I said, I was taken in blind. I could only tell you how long we flew.” He shrugged. “And that we began from the shores of a village that lay in the bowels of nowhere on the edge of the sea. It was a miserable little place and we flew from there. Not that it matters. Like I said, the village will never be of any importance. It’s neither old enough nor unique enough. The only thing they have of interest is Nushu, and that’s only a rumor. Besides, Nushu isn’t completely dead, there are a few others who still remember bits of it.”
“As in five or six, and a vague understanding at best,” Andra said.
He shrugged again. “The language was never my interest.”
“Who protects them?” Max demanded.
“And why?” Andra asked.
Jeff turned his hand palm up. “I never want to lay eyes on the man who did this to me. I imagine you have never had your skin burned with a torch.” He shook his head. “Le. That’s what she called him, nothing else. Like her, no last name—nothing. I’m sorry. I can’t tell you more.”
“Can’t or won’t?” Andra shot back.
His eyes narrowed. “Would you tell me what this is all about?”
“I wish we could,” Max replied. “Does the name Bao mean anything to you?”
“No. Never heard of him.”
“There’s nothing else you can tell us, about Fu, Le—any of it?” Max persisted.
“My silence was assured.” Jeff ran a finger along the sleek ebony of the grand piano that dominated the room. “I’d advise you to end your search now before he assures yours the same way.”
“We believe Fu might be dead. She might want us to find this village,” Andra replied.
“It’s remote, set in the wilderness in the south central region. That’s all I can tell you and even that was too much.”
“Who took you there?” Andra asked. “Can you at least tell us that?”
“He was a renegade himself. A pilot who flies into the remotest regions, and I never got his name.”
“How’d you find him?” Max asked.
“Aberdeen.” He held up his hands. “As you know, Andra, it’s where the underside of everything lurks in Hong Kong. Aberdeen. You may find more answers there.” He turned on his heel, his hands behind his back. “I will tell you no more. I can’t. Not without jeopardizing my own safety. I’d suggest that you end your search now.”
“I wish we could,” Andra replied. She held out her hand and after a brief round of handshakes they took their leave.
They were both silent as they closed the apartment door behind them and returned to the waiting cab.
Chapter Nine
“You can’t stay here much longer,” Max said forty-five minutes and two diversionary cab rides later when they finally arrived in Andra’s apartment.
“Where will we go?”
“We’ll think of something, but in the meantime I’m staying here till we get out of the city.”
“And if I mind?” she asked with a slight quirk to her lips.
“Then I’m staying anyway,” he said, smiling at her.
He dropped the satchel on the floor and sank into one of her low sling-back chairs.
Andra settled in the chair next to his and for a few moments silence drifted between them.
Andra finally broke the silence as her forefinger pressed against her bottom lip. “Suppose it’s not about the doll or the language? Those are all codes for something else? The triads are men.”
She frowned. “Margaret was killed with a single slice to her throat. And Fu hinted at trouble to come.”
“You mean Fu’s warning to watch out for Bao?”
“And the newspaper article that indicates that the killing bore his trademark.” She threaded a strand of jet-black hair between her fingers. “I can’t believe I even said that. What have we been reduced to, Max?”
“Reluctant players in a deadly game.”
“And from what Jeff Xiu said—I don’t know about you, but I’m not sure I want to find this village.” She looked at him, her beautiful ever-changing eyes troubled. “He was clear that this Le could easily annihilate anyone who tried. What’s to say he won’t go after us?” Worry lines threaded her forehead. “Never mind the women. They didn’t sound welcoming.”
“But Fu contacted us, Andra. That alone may make all the difference.”
“I don’t know, Max. I suspect we might be wise to trust no one but ourselves.”
“One thing we’re agreed on. Like you said earlier, it’s unsafe for us to remain in familiar territory.”
Andra grimaced and rubbed her wrist. “Some of this doesn’t fit. It’s as if there are street thugs after us rather than well-organized criminals.”
“I see what you mean. They’ve managed to fail every time. And the last, he seemed more youth than man. But in the end, does it really matter?”
“One might be easier to dodge than the other.”
“I wish you weren’t involved,” Max said gruffly.
“Max.” She touched his arm. “Don’t go all macho on me. Street thugs or a triad, it doesn’t matter. The triads in the end are nothing but organized thugs. We’ll fight them with brains.”
He cleared his throat to buy time and dodge what he knew had nothing to do with science or mystery and everything to do with her and how he’d like to kiss her. He couldn’t. He already had. This was contradictory and utterly ridiculous. They were colleagues and that’s how he needed it to remain despite what had come before.
Legacy of Fear Page 5
