“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.” She sat down. “Su’s been plying these waters since before I was born. His father and his father before him lived here. If anyone knows what’s going on, he does. Isn’t that right, Su?” Her eyes never left Max’s face.
“It’s true,” Lin Su agreed, but his attention was on Max. “And the man who paid for the tickets says he has your best interests at heart.”
“Can we trust him?” Max asked.
Lin Su nodded. “There are people at work that you may never know and they have agreed to help.”
“But the man who is financing this, surely you can tell us who he is?” Andra asked.
“As long as he is not crossed, he is a friend,” Lin Su said darkly. “I can say no more.”
“We may not have a choice at the moment but to play along,” Max said softly as Lin Su turned his attention to steering the boat through a mesh of anchored boats.
The small boat rocked again as waves lapped over the bow and a slick of industry-tainted water slipped darkly around their feet.
“You’re okay?” Max asked.
She nodded. She admired the fact that he had not pushed, that he instinctively knew when to wait and when to make demands. There weren’t many men like that. Men with the patience it might take to be a father. She pushed the thought away and away from possibilities that would never be—the two of them together—and brought her mind back to the now.
“I have heard that Bao is in town.” Andra made the statement into yawning uncertainty.
Lin Su squinted across at them. “It won’t be long before he finds you here.”
“Bao?” Andra turned a startled look to Max.
Lin Su cut the motor back as the boat drifted closer to the rubber-tire-edged dock of the garish restaurant. “Bao makes a living from the business owners, mostly the casinos. He skims their profits.” He sighed. “Rumor has it that Bao has been reined in. His attention has turned elsewhere. Word on the street is that you have something he wants.” He was only half visible, where the glow of reflected light glimmered weakly across the planes of his sun-weathered and thickly lined face.
For a minute the silence was thick, broken only by the slap of the waves against the hull of the boat.
Lin Su glanced at his watch. “The office is on the second floor. Just past the bar, up the stairs and first door on your right. You better get moving. You don’t have much time. An hour at most.”
Two minutes later they were bumping gently against the rubber tires that served as a bumper railing for the thickly painted red and gold monolith that stretched a few hundred feet in both directions and over four stories above them.
Lin Su stood up and the boat rocked. He threw a rope to Andra, who also stood up.
“I’ll do it.” Max gripped the edge of the boat and balanced gingerly.
“It’s all right, Max,” she said softly and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “There’s a knack to it. Trust me on this one.”
She’d ridden boats like this many times in the years she’d spent in Hong Kong, and in seconds she had the boat tied up in a manner that it could easily and quickly be released. She dusted her hands on the sides of her pants, stepped onto the floating dock and turned to the two men in the boat.
“You’ll wait?” she asked Lin Su.
“Of course.”
She tapped her watch. “What time do you have?”
Quickly they synchronized their watches.
• • •
It was surprising how fragmented Bao’s Hong Kong operation had become since he had taken out his right-hand man. The kill had only been days ago, the body left in a rusting pile of steel. Taking out Fang Chen and then another of the heavy hitters had made every segment of Bao’s operation, except Aberdeen, vulnerable. There had only been one glitch. The body had been unexpectedly discovered. It didn’t matter. No one would link it to him.
He’d known Bao’s reach was limited. But what had surprised him was how Bao had begun to resort more and more to street thugs. It was a tactic that was much harder for Le to predict, since there was little planning in their strategies and the resulting hits. Fortunately there was little accuracy too.
He had word that his quarry was heading to Aberdeen. That was a typical amateur move and particularly deadly because Aberdeen was Bao’s domain. It was in Aberdeen where Bao had his strongest connections and where he had no need of street thugs. It was a move that couldn’t have been worse and one he couldn’t prevent. He couldn’t expect anything less from a pair of academics. They were barely treading water in a game they didn’t understand. So far they had been lucky. He was not one to bet long on luck.
Le assessed the situation like he had almost every circumstance in his life, with cold logic. Bao was running a fragmented racket now that his second in command was eliminated. His gravy was in the gambling that happened outside the big gambling dens, in the relative anonymity of Aberdeen. He couldn’t afford to lose those lucrative ventures. But he couldn’t afford to lose the opportunity for further fortune and a chance to cash in on Fu’s empire.
And that was one thing Le wouldn’t allow of anyone. Anyone who messed with Fu would have to die. It was time to step up the game and step in.
Chapter Twelve
Andra led the way inside the boat, where the garish red continued into the interior. A bar to their left gleamed of polished wood and timeless gold trim. To their right the rich mahogany wall was trimmed in the deep red that seemed to be the predominant décor color. But lighter gold and brass tones had been added, along with a sea of white tablecloths that covered dozens of tables in the room that opened just in front of them.
“Upstairs,” Andra whispered and put a hand on the banister to their right.
“Wait. Let me go first.” Max slid past her. “Stay behind me. I don’t trust—”
“Su?”
“Anyone.” He led the way up the stairs.
Twenty steps.
She counted every one as if it was not a simple stairwell but instead led to the executioner’s chamber.
“I don’t like this,” Max said. At the landing, he turned and waited for her, curving an arm around her waist, and in the dimly lit cavernous room the touch was comforting as they made their way to the back as Lin Su had instructed. Along the way, empty tables and chairs appeared like skeletal sentries in the dim light. They passed another bar, teak this time, and as before, trimmed in gold. Beside the bar was the office, just as Lin had said. Max flicked the light switch on and it bathed the small room. Against one wall, there was a desk, a desktop computer and a printer. Other than that and a chair, it was empty.
“Not much of an office,” Andra muttered.
“Which makes me think of the factory, or maybe it’s just that I can’t stop thinking of it.”
Overhead a clock ticked off the minutes.
“Do you feel we’re running out of time?”
“I admit this Bao has me concerned. From what Su said, he is too close for comfort.”
“Plus, if that was Bao or one of his men at the factory, they know about the memory stick.”
“But do they know what’s on it?”
“I don’t think they can, Max. Even we don’t know all of it, and you can read Nushu.” She put her hand to her mouth and her horrified eyes met his.
“You, Max. Oh, my God, you. You know Nushu. You’re as valuable to them as that memory stick. What if . . .”
“They won’t get their hands on either of us. It won’t happen, Andra. We won’t let it. We’ve got to get as many answers as possible and get out of here.”
Max sat down and typed in the heart of our dream website. Soon the screen filled with rich red and a gold lettering. He clicked and the screen quickly changed. They both scanned the screen as the image of a traditional single-story building with tiled and fluted roof tiles, ornate lattice windows and deep red pillars supporting the structure appeared. He clicked on the white gloss door and it opened to a dragon that breathed
fire before retreating into the depths of the house. A slight Chinese woman replaced the dragon and motioned them inside.
“Rather unique for a girl’s doll,” Max said dryly. “Frightening, actually.”
“I remember loving ghost stories and dolls. Maybe that’s the attraction for children, it’s a bit of both.”
“Plus a mystery,” Max agreed as they navigated the virtual interior and another avatar met them once they passed the dragon.
A woman became prominent even as the dragon faded into the background. She waved to the dragon’s retreating back before turning to face them. Her dark hair was pulled into a tight bun, accentuating high cheekbones and a face that was delicate and not quite beautiful. She was dressed in a long silk gown. She held out her hand. “I am glad you have come. For it means you have adopted one that was mine.”
“Could this be a virtual replica of Fu?”
“Maybe.” He leaned closer. “There’s something odd about her right foot.”
She brushed against him as he pointed at the screen. “I thought it was my imagination. It’s not. It’s tiny but it’s there. A heart.”
“Just like the doll,” Max said thoughtfully.
Online the woman remained frozen, waiting for the cursor to direct her next move. “Suppose she did give away a daughter. Why didn’t she look for her herself years ago?” Max frowned as they both pondered the question. “‘You’ve adopted one that was mine.’” He brushed his hand across the screen, lifting a layer of dust. “Suppose that has a twofold meaning.”
Andra changed places with him. The avatar led further into the house, into a lounge plush with silk window coverings, walls that had the appearance of having vintage wallpaper with flowers designed in raised velvet, and antique furniture of various eras. It was crass and it was elegant all at the same time.
Fifteen minutes later no combination of numbers or letters was letting them further into the site.
“This is impossible. We’ve obviously missed something.” She pushed back the chair.
“I know this is slightly off topic but there’s something else we need to do at the first opportunity.”
“What?”
“Just something Britt said. I thought it was rather a stretch at the time.” He unfolded his arms, staring thoughtfully into space. “We put the doll’s picture online.”
She swung around, crossing one leg over the other. “Interesting concept. Where did she think we should post this picture?”
“This could easily backfire.”
“And attract the wrong entities.”
“No. We’ve already attracted them.” His amber eyes were dark and troubled. “This could be a complete miss. There’s the possibility that the girl isn’t out there.”
“Maybe. But I don’t think so.” She glanced at her watch and back at the computer. “I’m going to take another look at the website.”
As he leaned over her shoulder, the scent of sea and coconut that seemed so uniquely him slipped around her and she wanted to stand up, turn around and . . . She pushed down the thought but not the need. She wanted sex and she wanted it now, with him—as inappropriate as this place and this time was. It was like a release valve, an escape from the seriousness of their situation. It was all she could pin it to, the untimely or even inappropriate thought of him making her wet. They weren’t horny teenagers but serious adults on a mission that might well save their lives. She pinched her eyes closed and opened them, focusing on the screen.
Minutes later, she was able to move into another layer of the program where the woman they thought to be Fu waved a slim hand to her. This time she was dressed in a long tunic and pants, unlike the traditional Chinese robes for women. Andra moved the cursor and the screen changed, like a curtain lifting as a door swung wide, and she followed Fu inside, but on the threshold she paused.
She touched the screen with her forefinger. “I’ve seen that before.”
“What are you talking about?” Max crowded close to her, his hand resting on her shoulder, heavy, protective. Oddly, it was a silent promise of more as they both stared at the screen. “It’s a forest and a path.”
“No. There.” Andra pointed in the background. “I’m not sure but it may be Maling Gorge. It’s a popular tourist site—a natural wonder. And it’s in the general area that Jeff Xiu alluded to.” She shoved her hair back.
“Maybe it’s just background and nothing more. I mean not connected with a real place.”
She shook her head. “I’d lay odds that everything on this site means something. Maling Gorge could very well be close to the village of women. It matches what little Jeff Xiu said.”
“If the village exists.”
“Exactly.” She sighed. “Although, I’m not sure how we can doubt it considering what Jeff said.”
“You’re right. The scar on his hand was pretty convincing.”
She rubbed the back of her neck. “I’m just so damned tired.”
He pulled her gently to her feet. His hand brushed the inside of her arm, his thigh pressed against hers and heat seemed to run the length of her leg.
“Do you suppose it might be worth a trip to Maling Gorge?” Max suggested. “It would get us away from here.” He answered his own question as he began to massage her neck. “And considering that we’ve yet to figure out where to go next and our only decision has been to leave Hong Kong, Maling is a consideration. It’s a tourist attraction, isn’t it? Safety in numbers.”
“Maling Gorge is a big place,” she agreed. “I suspect the village will be nowhere near a tourist attraction. And it’s big enough that even if it’s there, we might not find it.”
“We have to try.”
“I agree but . . .” She turned to look at him. “I’m frightened that we won’t be able to find the village, or worse—that we do.”
• • •
Their last conversation played again and again in Le’s mind. He would miss Fu always. And that ache was only compounded with the reminder of the daughter they had both lost.
They had been so young, so sure of themselves and the path on which they were headed. And that afternoon the path had changed when Fu’s father had brought her future husband home. It was a tradition that had already died in the cities and more modern areas of the country, but in the isolated village where Fu had been born it was still tradition. If he’d been older he would have realized that there was never a chance for him and Fu. Her father would never agree to a marriage between them. Then, he was not considered good enough, for his father had neither wealth nor importance. If he had only known sooner of the daughter they created that day. If he’d only been older, stronger—he would have fought and won. Fu was his one regret. The only thing he had ever lost and the most important.
He ran a finger along the edge of the photo she had sent him only weeks before she died. The only picture he’d ever have of her. He carried the photo everywhere.
Fu had died knowing that he would be there for her, that what she cherished would be delivered into the hands of the one she loved most. No one would threaten the women she’d strived so hard to protect.
Chapter Thirteen
Max looked at his watch. “Time’s up. We better get going.”
His hand brushed hers.
She shivered and leaned into that touch. His other hand shifted as his fingers ran through her hair and they were soft promises of things to come. He reached over her, his hand skimming against the rise of her breast as he popped out the jump drive and handed it to her.
She stood up, and as she faced him her breath caught—he looked at her with a passion that was so alive it almost jumped the small space between them.
“Max, I . . .” How could she say what he did to her, how she only wanted to be in his arms, to be . . .
He put a finger on her lips and leaned over to give her a light kiss as his hand skimmed her ribs and rested tentatively on her waist.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said. He guided her down the s
tairs, which were scantily illuminated by too few floor lights. But it was as if the dark, dangerous night and the mystery that threatened them only heightened the growing connection she felt with him. She took a deep breath as they walked what could easily have been a city block before reaching the outer doors. Reality, Andra, she reminded herself as they exited onto the dock where Lin Su waited in his little motorboat.
Lin Su stood, balancing easily in the boat as it rocked in the waves. He reached a hand to Andra as Max held her other.
“Really guys, I’m fine.” And even as she said that the boat bumped against the dock and she stumbled.
In a minute the boat spun around and headed toward the inner harbor and the sea of boats that bobbed gently in the calm and sheltered harbor water. “Where is your boat?” he asked Lin Su.
“It is not my sampan that we are going to,” Lin Su replied. “You’ll be safer at the junk of a friend.”
Lin Su slipped easily through the narrow water labyrinth between the sampans and junks. A dog barked, its voice thin and reedy in the distance. Beside them worn sheets drifted gently in the breeze. Water lapped against the nearby boats, the tires that laced many of their hulls adding to the bulky shadows as the city lights flared in a brilliant border that failed to reach this corner of the world. A tug horn sounded and the hoarse warning drifted across the harbor. Lin Su cut the motor and they drifted. The boat rolled in the waves and then bumped against a junk. The small flat-bottomed boat was maybe thirty feet wide and was bordered with worn rubber tires that covered what was left of its faded red hull. One boat crowded against the other. Lin Su pushed them along through the maze of boats with a hand against the various hulls.
“It’s not far and the engine is too loud,” he said. “You must be very careful. Already I have word that an American woman was hospitalized. Hit by a cab on your street only an hour ago.” Lin Su squinted into the darkness. “Accident, or again a case of mistaken identity?”
“Do you know who she was?” Andra asked with a quiver in her voice.
Legacy of Fear Page 8
