“We’re out of our minds,” she mumbled as she unbuckled her safety belt and got up. But no matter how terrified she was, she couldn’t go back and Max wouldn’t. Except, she suspected, for her.
“You’re all right?” Max asked as he stood up.
“More than all right,” she replied brightly, and she knew that as in her actions, her words were uttered a little too cheerfully. She took a deep breath.
“Are you sure?”
“I am, yes. I’m more relieved really. And excited.” And it was true, despite all her doubts she had good vibes about this. And if she told herself that enough times . . . “Let’s go.”
“I’m glad you can maintain your enthusiasm,” he whispered as they slipped past Hsin.
Outside, the air was fresh, rinsed with the scent of forest and the clean untouched air that man has had little influence on.
“Smell it, Max. I can’t believe this.” She turned to Hsin and back to Max. “Can you ask him again if he has any idea what direction?”
Max shrugged but went over to Hsin and was back only a minute later. “Nothing more than we already know. Except . . . He says not to underestimate them. They will not hurt us without provocation but they are far from defenseless.” He glanced at his watch. “And that we have to be back here with enough time to fly out before the sun sets. He’ll meet us here at four o’clock this afternoon. And if we fail to show he’ll be here the day after that and repeat the pickup for three days. After that we’re on our own.”
“Repeat the pickup for three days?” Andra’s heart pounded. “He suspects we may have trouble that . . . that, what?” She didn’t want to imagine what the worst-case scenario might be. “This is ridiculous. What were we thinking?”
Max glanced over his shoulder.
Hsin was already getting back in the plane.
Ahead there was nothing but rock and virgin forest, and a few hundred feet below a valley began to carve into sheer rock, and a waterfall trickled down another hundred feet after that before meeting a river that tumbled through sheered granite.
Andra took a deep breath as the sweet edge of pine and nature filled her senses. “Let’s go,” she said over her shoulder and started forward into what seemed like nothing but untamed forest.
Chapter Sixteen
It had been only a few minutes’ walk after the plane had left when they discovered this path. It seemed to be raw-cut into the rocky wilderness, worn enough to be visible and rough enough to be a challenge to navigate. They had been walking now for about ten minutes. It was a guess, as she’d failed to look at her watch until only minutes ago. Ahead of them there was dense forest populated with evergreens and to their right was a drop that had only become more sheer as it knifed to a valley they had only caught glimpses of.
“This is insane,” Max muttered a few minutes later as his foot slipped and he tottered on the edge of a five-foot drop to his right. The rocky overhang that had earlier bracketed the left side of the path was now filled in, as if the drop and the valley had never existed and evergreens blocked any view.
“Women,” Max muttered. “Or a band of felons hiding from the law and we’re about to endanger ourselves. We don’t even have a gun.”
That made her laugh. “And who would fire the thing if we did?”
“I belong to a gun club at home.”
“You?”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“Shit,” she muttered as she tripped on a loose rock.
“Are you hurt?” He stopped.
“Fine,” she gritted.
The path was treacherous with unexpected dips and tree roots that seemed to weave across it. As they continued downward, the air seemed to change and became more chilled.
“I don’t like this, Max.”
“We should go back,” he said, his hand never lifting from the back of her waist, where it had been from the beginning, as if to ensure she stayed to the inside and away from the slope that now eased gently before dropping. Through a break in the trees they could see a valley floor, then the trees closed in again and they could hear the faint rush of water tumbling over rocks.
The forest abruptly peeled back as six hundred or so feet ahead the path dipped and disappeared, and they could now see a small cluster of distant buildings. Andra shielded her eyes but the only thing she could make out was tan and green, a flicker of red and gold—buildings that were tucked against the mountain so neatly that they hadn’t been visible until now.
“An empire and only women to defend it,” Max muttered, as if the words would make it all more palatable.
“What are you implying, Max?” And it seemed like all the tension of the last few nights were compiled into the edge of that one question. “That women couldn’t do it—that men are . . .” She laughed nervously.
“Enough, Andra, you don’t need to finish that sentence.” He squeezed her hand. “Women are every bit as deadly as men, possibly more so, and that thought isn’t easing my mind any.”
Coniferous needles crunched dry and dead under their feet, and although the landscape had opened up in front of them, around them a forest of long-needled pines rose, towered above and deep into that forest. There was only the impenetrable darkness that began only a few feet off the path, where ferns grew dewy and lush in the undergrowth.
“This is unbelievable.” Max picked up a needle. “These trees don’t normally grow this far south.”
“This place seems to be quite an anomaly; even the temperature has dropped.” Andra shivered and wrapped her arms around herself.
“These trees are designed for a severe winter climate.” He twisted a small branch that invaded the path. “We seem to be in a climatic hyperbole.”
“I don’t know if I’m excited or slightly frightened by what we may find.”
Her shoulder brushed against him as they jostled for space on the narrow path that was again crowded by the branches of shrubs and backed by fir trees that towered above them. And despite the beauty of nature, it was still just the two of them against all odds.
And as she thought that, there was a movement in the trees’ murky shadows.
Max stepped forward, blocking Andra.
“Max!” She elbowed him and stepped beside him. “Whose there?”
A small dark head emerged from the shadows and a child looked at them with fathomless rich brown eyes that were too serious for one so young. Then the child ran and they were alone.
“Children and yet this is a village that supposedly consists solely of women.” Max shook his head. “This makes absolutely no sense.”
“Or complete sense,” Andra said as the truth finally hit her and she thought of her father and his penchant for collecting children who had been left alone in the world. While he couldn’t connect on an individual basis he continued what her mother had begun from a distance. He had sponsored orphanages around the world and the trust she had set up after he died still did. Adoption would prevent a village of women from dying out.
“Adoption,” she whispered.
“I have a feeling that things are getting more complicated than either of us imagined.” He took her hand and they walked another few minutes, rounding a bend where suddenly they could see nothing, only the forest that walled in around them. And then, within seconds, everything opened up again, the forest dropped back and the village spread out in front of them. It was a compact organization of small cottages that surrounded one larger building built in what seemed a combination of European and Chinese style with a winged clay roof and a courtyard that stretched in front of it, complete with a small lake that shimmered in the midst of it all. The colors of red and gold trim flashed in the sunlight, while the walls were finished in colors of tan and green. There were maybe twenty buildings there all neatly organized around a park. In fact, other than the main building, both the cottages and the path mirrored more the European style than the Chinese. The cottages with their small iron-gated gardens were identical to each other.
“No one has stopped us. Why?” Andra whispered.
“We can only hope that before her death, Fu forewarned them,” Max replied.
Andra nodded. “So where do we go from here?”
“Straight through the middle of the village, at least that’s where we’re headed.” Max stopped. “Not a good idea. Stay here. Let’s see what happens.” The silence that faced them was disconcerting. Not even a dog or a cat occupied the deserted streets. A woman’s bike, steel-gray and thick-framed, leaned against a building, a cloth-bound book in the wicker carrier. The largest house was central to the others, a replica of the house that showed on the website except the colors were different. It was the same colors as every other house in the village, tan and green, meant to fade and blend into its environment, except for the small amount of red and gold trim adding a majesty to it that was absent in the others. The courtyard was large and combined with the house took up at least a city block. The fence that enclosed the house and courtyard was maybe six feet high, stone, and the gate a thin web of iron.
It was their last uninterrupted view as a group of women emerged from behind the largest house. They were all dressed in black and the bland expressions on their faces matched the rather dower clothing.
“Who are you?” the tallest woman asked. She was now so close that she could have reached out and touched them. Lines carved into her pale skin but it was her eyes that were unforgettable—dark rivets filled with anger. She stood with her hands on her slim hips. On either side she was flanked by a half dozen similarly dressed women. There were no smiles of welcome and the air shimmered with hostility.
Andra glanced over her left shoulder, where more women were emerging from various buildings. Then there was a movement just behind her. She turned and the last thing she remembered was a blur of motion, of the earth spinning beneath her and then rushing to meet her as she lost her balance and fell. She tried to cry for Max—to warn him that these women were not the ambassadors of welcome they had hoped for, but her words choked and everything disappeared. Only one thing penetrated her fading consciousness, the words “kill him.”
Chapter Seventeen
Max awoke with a thick, cottony feeling in his mouth that was overpowered by the numbing pain in his right shoulder. He stifled a moan as he shifted on the hard, cool floor. His tongue felt heavy, thick, and the palm of his hand slipped on what felt like dirt. Dim light flickered across the floor. He squinted, trying to see where he was, but there was only enough light to verify his first impression, that he was lying on a dirt floor. He sat up, trying to remember where he was or how he had arrived there. But his last memory had been Andra falling and his panic at the thought that she was injured. He had taken a step forward meaning to go to her and that was the last thing he remembered.
Andra.
Anxiety for her safety ate like a bitter draught in his gut and any thought of where he was confined or why was temporarily gone.
Where was she?
From somewhere outside a door slammed and the sound echoed around him. He stood up and squinted into the gloom. A streak of sunlight swept across the floor and wafted dimly into the perimeter darkness. He took a step and bit back a moan as another wave of pain shot through his shoulder. His head thumped and he suspected that they had taken him down with a heavy object to the head. He ran his hand experimentally over the back of his head and confirmed his suspicions at the feel of stiff hair more than likely covered in dried blood. His head pounded dully.
He paced off the small room. Five strides and he hit a wall either way. He felt the edges of his cell—looking for an escape, an answer to where he was. The walls, if you could call them that, were packed dirt, like the floor. In one corner he could see the faint outline of gunnysacks. His hand ran over the plump rounded edges of the overstuffed bags, bags of vegetables, he imagined, onions maybe. He was in a root cellar of some sort, or maybe something cut away from the hills that bracketed the village. It was above ground, he could tell that by the light sifting through the crack of what appeared to be a door.
He listened, holding his breath to filter out any distraction.
Silence.
He ran his fingers along the door. He’d have to stoop to get out should he get the opportunity. He’d make the opportunity, he thought with a grimace as pain again shot through his shoulder. The door was solid wood, and he considered how thick it was. Light ran through the slim crack, bit it was not big enough to see anything. There was no way of seeing outside. Could he shoulder the door open?
Andra—should he call for her?
Bad idea.
Who was on the outside of the door, if anyone? There were too many questions and too few answers.
“Max.”
He heard her voice muffled and yet closer than he anticipated. His heart leapt. She was alive.
“Andra.”
And his heart sank as something slammed and echoed outside and a woman’s scream rang through what was now his prison.
He’d recognize that scream anywhere.
Andra.
• • •
For a moment, Le didn’t breathe as the closing credits of Gone With the Wind rolled across the screen. He lay on the bed that was too big, on the silk sheets that at one time he would have thought decadent—and remembered a time when Fu had loved him. He was reluctant to turn the television off until the last credit crossed the screen. He’d seen the movie more times than he could remember. Scarlett and Rhett, a love that could never be and a love that he knew, despite Rhett’s words, had never died. It was rather like him and Fu. Maybe that’s what attracted him to the movie. That and the fact that it was the only Western movie they had ever watched together. It was a movie that he had watched dozens of times since as he imagined Fu at his side.
Fu.
He would have forgiven her anything if it meant holding her in his arms one more time. He had loved her since he was a boy and he would love her forever. The sweet scent of jasmine that seemed so much a part of her, her soft skin, all of it—haunted him. They had been so young, so sure of themselves. And then everything had changed. She had married him.
Him.
The man she had said she loved. He knew now why she had said it. Hearing that she no longer loved him but instead another was the only thing that would make him leave. And he had, he’d left her alone to a father who cared nothing for her happiness and had arranged her marriage to an abusive man. When he had found out, he had killed her husband for laying an unkind hand on Fu.
Now he would kill anyone who threatened what had taken her lifeblood to build and he would preserve it for the last living thing that mattered.
Chapter Eighteen
Andra awoke for the second time, this time with the scream in her throat—like she’d slept and been caught in the throes of a nightmare rather than the reality. There was the taste of something heavy and gritty in her mouth. And unlike the first time she had come to, she was alone. There was no shadowy figure hovering over her. That memory was vague but the scream tasted real in her still raw throat. Around her there was darkness.
“Max,” she whispered, hoping against what she instinctively knew. He wasn’t here. She ran her tongue along her lips, which were as chapped as her throat was dry. How long had she been here and where was Max? She felt her away along the seemingly impervious walls of her prison. She could touch one wall that had the smooth yet mildly rough edge of drywall. She dropped to her knees, running her finger along what felt like cold tile. She stood up, fumbling in the darkness.
“Keep calm, Andra,” she coached herself. Never in her life had she been in such a position—imprisonment. Imprisonment to what end? And a small voice whispered the unthinkable—death.
“Max,” she whispered, this time slightly louder, but walking the perimeter of what appeared to be a small windowless room, maybe ten by ten, only proved that she was alone. Outside there were whispered voices. She remembered earlier, the scent of pine. They’d moved her since
then. There were no pine scents but rather a warm, jasmine-like scent. It was a scent she knew she’d smelled before and she couldn’t place it. Why had Fu led them here, to a place where they were attacked? It made no sense.
Jasmine.
She remembered now. It had wafted from Fu’s last note. She fished in her pocket. Oddly, the note was still there.
“No search,” she muttered. Who were these people?
There was a rustling on the other side. She retreated from the door. Whoever was on the outside had already proved that they weren’t here to befriend her.
The door opened and a light switch that must have been on the outside wall was flicked on. Blinded, Andra squeezed her eyes shut as she was yanked out of the room, her hands tied behind her back, and then she was prodded down a long hallway. As her vision returned she could see pictures lining the corridor. Pictures of women, some of them familiar, their faces even now pushing her roughly forward. She stumbled and almost fell. Her heart pounded.
“Please, we’re here to help . . .”
“Silence!” A sharp push from behind and she fell. Voices merged around her as the four women roughly grabbed her arms and pulled her to her feet.
“Where’s Max?” Sweat slicked her palms and an ache in her temple only seemed to increase with her mounting panic. They would kill them both, Max for sure. She knew that like she had never known anything before. She had to save him but she wasn’t sure how.
• • •
Max threw his body against the wooden door. Nothing. He wasn’t a small man. It wasn’t possible that the door would hold through that many assaults. Briefly, he thought the door might have shuddered, but on his second and third attempt he realized that it was barricaded from the outside.
He rubbed his shoulder and tried to think of an alternate plan but nothing came to mind.
Legacy of Fear Page 11
