Legacy of Fear

by Ryshia Kennie

  “Get up,” Le commanded, seeming to have come out of nowhere.

  Andra looked up to see Le only a few feet from them, a hand brushing down the perfectly creased edge of a pant leg as his other hand balanced against the trunk of a tree.

  “You’re all right?” Max asked.

  She nodded, although her knees burned. He reached out a hand to help her up.

  “That one won’t be troubling us again. Let’s go.” Le led the way out of the forest and back onto the path.

  “Who was he? What was it all about?” Andra asked.

  “His identity means nothing,” Le said. “He’s dead. That’s all that matters.”

  A chill seemed to settle around them.

  Max’s hand on her waist was the only ground to reality in this whole nightmare. Andra wasn’t sure if without him she would have made it to the plane. Her legs were shaking so hard that there were moments in the ten minutes that followed where she might have collapsed without him. Her composure was gone, her nerves jangled. A man had died and it was almost more than she could comprehend.

  “Hurry,” Max urged, and there was a calming strength in his voice as the path opened up into the small meadow where the plane waited.

  They were seconds from safety, from getting on the plane and getting out of here. The plane’s wings glinted in the late afternoon sun and in the cockpit she could see the shadow of Hsin. She looked over her shoulder, where the forest was now behind them. She shuddered.

  “I wish it were all a nightmare,” she said through clenched teeth. “Who was he? The man you shot.”

  “Irrelevant.” Le’s voice was hard.

  The plane’s engine fired up and the noise cut off any further questions. Le opened the door and motioned that they should board. Andra swallowed. She wanted out of here and yet to board with Le seemed incomprehensible and frightening. She glanced back at Max, and as their eyes met she could feel her equilibrium returning. As long as they were together, it would be all right. They would get out of this.

  But even as the plane took off, she didn’t feel safe. Not with Le sitting across from them, the gun out of sight but not out of mind. Around them a layer of clouds hung like a corpse’s shroud, muting the late afternoon sun.

  Below them a man lay dead. She looked at Le, who looked calmly back with eyes that sparkled dangerously, and it was easy to see the killer behind the calm.

  “Where are you taking us?” Max asked with an edge in his voice as his hand squeezed Andra’s.

  “Beijing,” Le said abruptly.

  “Beijing?”

  “Beijing,” Le repeated. “Beijing will be safe if you stay low,” Le stated bluntly. “No asking questions. You’re tourists. Nothing more.” He eyed them with an amused expression. “I don’t know much about your relationship but in this instance you must act as a couple. That means one room. Anything else will arouse suspicions.”

  The plane was circling now, losing altitude as it began its descent.

  “You bought the diversionary tickets to Singapore?” Andra asked.

  “And followed our path out of Aberdeen?” Max added.

  “Bao has connections. Fragmented though they may be, they exist and therefore there’s always the potential of danger. Especially in Aberdeen.” He stretched easily with long fingers interlaced and then dropped his hands into his lap.

  “One of those connections would be the man you just killed?” Max asked. “Who was he?”

  “Another runner for Bao who shall remain nameless.”

  Andra looked out the window, where Beijing’s heavy smog prevented much of a view. She looked back at Le, who was offering little in the way of information.

  “What do you know of the doll?” Andra asked.

  “The doll belonged to the child,” Le said softly, but the look in his eye was hard and biting. “When she was given up she went with the clothes she wore and nothing else but the doll. And in the end, she left the doll behind.” He shook his head. “If I had been there it wouldn’t have happened like that.” He paused. “It wouldn’t have happened at all,” he muttered through clenched teeth.

  Andra hid her surprise at how much Le was suddenly willing to say.

  He ran the palm of his hand down the side of his sun-bronzed face. “Fu lived with that guilt for the remainder of her life. It was her wish that the doll was returned to the child, was it not?”

  “It was,” Max said.

  “Not that she is a child anymore. By my count, she would be twenty-six years old last April. Still, Fu would demand that she know that she was wanted.” He frowned. “There is not much I know. Fu was smart that way. The less information in any one hand, the safer a secret is. You can attest to that in how she has given each participant only so much information. That way, nothing can easily end up in the wrong hands.”

  “She was ingenious,” Max agreed.

  “And the doll?” Andra encouraged him. “What else can you tell us?”

  “I do know that the doll had a name. Lixue.” His lips pinched together and he turned from them and to the window. “That was Fu’s given name. Fu, that was only a nickname—a name she acquired as a child. She was never called by anything else.”

  “You know a lot about Fu.” Andra threw the leading question out into the silence.

  “Enough!” Le’s reply was sharp.

  The plane dipped into a turn and lost more altitude. Below them there was only smog and cloud-smeared sky.

  “Is he going to be able to land in this?” Andra asked and gasped as overhead a large passenger plane seemed to hover only feet from them.

  “We’re landing just on the edge of the city. From there I’ll have my driver take you to a local hotel.”

  “And you?” Andra asked.

  Le held up his hand, staving off further questions while his other hand held a pack of gum. “I will find you.”

  Chapter Twenty

  The plane skimmed to an easy stop on the narrow runway.

  “You will say nothing of what has transpired.” Again, Le’s words were underscored by the knowledge that beneath his jacket was the revolver they had seen earlier.

  “It goes without saying,” Max said as they left Le on the plane and emerged to a black sedan waiting on the tarmac. They would make the rest of the journey alone. Le had been clear on that in what he hadn’t said.

  They rode in silence in the backseat while traffic roared around them and meshed with endless bicycles, their riders toting briefcases and purses, and baskets filled with groceries.

  Ahead the road became a cleanly divided boulevard. The buildings loomed on all sides, modern and sleek. Minutes later the car swept into a circular drive and a faded brick hotel rose amid the usual clutter of commerce on the peak of a small hill. The cab stopped under a faded white-and-red-striped awning.

  By the time they got out, the driver had already popped the trunk.

  “No,” Max began. “We have no luggage.” And even as he said the words a suitcase was on the sidewalk.

  Behind them a bellhop hurried forward, picked up the suitcase and carried it into the lobby. Max wondered what might be in it, if anything.

  The bellboy took them past the registration desk to the elevator.

  Andra looked at Max and shrugged. “I suppose Le handled registration.” She took his hand as the elevator door slid shut behind them and the ancient mechanism rattled as the car began to move.

  Minutes later they were walking through a narrow hallway, the carpet thin with wear, and the faint scent of mildew made each breath slightly unpleasant. The bellboy stopped at a room at the end of the hall. He opened the thin, mahogany-veneered door and placed their suitcase on the floor. Max fished in his pocket for a tip before closing the door behind the man.

  Andra looked around the small room. She looked at the single bed and at Max. “Tight quarters.”

  Max went to the window and pulled open the curtain. They were fourteen floors up.

  “Look at this, Max.” Andra ha
d the suitcase open on the bed. “Clothes, toiletries.” She held up a shirt. “Not bad,” she murmured. “He’s a good judge of clothing.”

  “Among other things,” Max replied. “Are you surprised?”

  “He frightens me, Max.”

  He moved away from the window to where she stood, her hand on the open suitcase. “I wish you had nothing to do with him. The man is dangerous.”

  “For you too, Max.” She looked at him with eyes that shimmered not with fear but something he once only dared imagine—not just desire but affection.

  “I feel like I’m in high school again. A borrowed place, something not quite our own.”

  He turned her around, stopping the flow of words with a kiss. And as he took her in his arms again it only felt right.

  “Andra,” he murmured.

  Her hands slipped like strands of silk across his skin and he was led by a dance as primitive as the beginning of time.

  Their clothes were gone without thought. They lay in a heap, discarded and forgotten as Andra’s hands glided downward over his hips, as her lips followed. She planted hot, wet love bites across his skin until he was sure he could stand no more.

  “Andra,” he said as they fell to the bed. Her softness was cushioned against his chest. Her lips seemed everywhere. “Stop. Please. Give me a moment.”

  And she did, all of three seconds, before she rolled off of him and her magical hands began another dance. There was nothing for him to do but take charge or lose it.

  But even that was not much diversion, as she was both soft and lithe in his arms. Her curves were smooth and elegant, matching the lengthy grace of her limbs. He cupped her face in his hands, his eyes meeting hers as if that moment of connection would cool his ardor, make him hang on for that much longer.

  “Max,” she murmured as her hands slipped under his and her lips feathered his. Then she slid out of his embrace and straddled him, her fingers trailing light caresses across his skin, exploring, tantalizing—teasing.

  “God, Andra. Stop.”

  “Max . . .”

  He pulled her down, her breasts pressed against his chest, his lips meeting hers, silencing anything she might have to say as his tongue dueled with hers and he deftly turned over, taking her with him, so she was on the bottom, her hips twisted beneath him. He moved down her body with his mouth, grazing her nipple, lathing it with the same attention he had given her lips only seconds earlier as his other hand reached down, sliding his finger over her damp clit, back and forth, getting harder himself as she became wetter. She moaned and twisted, pushing up, beneath him, as if to stop him . . .

  “Max.” His name came out on a humor-filled gasp. “I can’t take any more.”

  With a low growl he entered her.

  She clung to him, bucking beneath him in a way that took them both over the edge again, and later, again.

  Long after, as he lay with Andra quietly beside him, Max knew that if it came to it, it would rip his heart from him to say good-bye to her.

  It was hours later, as they lay in the dark and contemplated a future that both of them knew could never be, that they fell asleep. But Max slept lightly and briefly and soon he was lying in the dark with only his thoughts and Andra’s rhythmic sleep-filled breathing.

  He wasn’t sure where they went from here. They had pieced many things together but the most important—the owner of the doll, the child who was now a woman—they were no closer to finding her.

  Andra shifted and flung one arm out, pushing the doll off the nightstand. She muttered something and then curled up and seemed to go deeper into sleep.

  Max got up and went over to pick the doll up. It lay facedown with its dress sprawled around its limbs. As he straightened up, he came face-to-face with Andra. Her face was peaceful in sleep, her lips full and red from his kisses.

  She murmured and flipped over.

  Max pulled the blanket up around her and went to check the air conditioning. There should be no need for blankets in Beijing in July, but the temperature seemed stuck at 60 degrees. A chilly zone even for someone who was raised in the northern United States and much too chilly for Andra, who was used to warmer climes. He fiddled with the thermostat one last time before giving up. And then he realized he was still holding the doll in his other hand.

  Max held the doll at arm’s length. The doll’s lips were cracked. The plastic had deteriorated with age. He drew a finger down the side of its cheek, which was accented in faded red. A strand of the doll’s hair draped over his wrist. The strand was rough and artificial. The doll’s black hair was permanently tangled and gave it a rather disheveled appearance.

  “What else are you hiding?” he asked, and the question hovered unanswered and haunting in the quiet room.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Andra was awakened by the calm cadence of Max’s voice. She still couldn’t believe that the colleague she had relied on and called friend was now the man in her bed, the man who she was becoming impossibly fond of and the man who . . .

  She stopped, the broken thought hovering silently in the quiet room.

  “Max?” she whispered, sitting up. “Why didn’t you wake me sooner?”

  “It’s late and you were tired.”

  “And I slept most of the evening away.”

  “With good reason.”

  “Arrogant jerk,” she replied good-naturedly, swinging her legs off the edge of the bed and getting up as she pushed tousled hair off her face.

  “Am I?” There was laughter in his voice.

  “The farthest thing from it.” She stretched and turned to him. “Except possibly in your belief in your ability to satisfy.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” Laughter laced through his words. “However . . .”

  “No, Max.” She smiled playfully. “Not that I’m not tempted but we have a mystery to solve and you’ve already let me sleep far too long. What have you come up with?”

  “Exactly nothing.” Max shrugged. “I’m still struggling with the name Lixue,” he said and went over to the desk, where he picked up the hotel pen and wrote the name in Chinese. “It means pretty snow. That’s all I have.”

  She stretched and came over, resting a hand lightly on his shoulder. “Mind if I look?”

  “Go for it.” He stood up and handed her the doll.

  She took the notepad and pen from him and they exchanged places.

  A few minutes later, she said, “If you break the name down numerically it comes down to twenty-six. Twenty-six letters in the English alphabet,” she added. “But I’m not sure what that gives us.” She sat back. “Of course, from twenty-six you get eight. Le’s name comes to eight as well. Fu’s nickname doesn’t add up but her real name does!” Her eyes sparked with excitement. “Fu seemed to be the master of the complex made simple and eight fits everywhere and anywhere. Its importance in the sciences is mind-numbing. Eight is the atomic number of oxygen, necessary for life.” She sighed. “Not that any of that is relevant except for its importance here in China, where it’s associated with wealth. Still, even if we’ve solved nothing I feel we’re on the right track.” She swung around to look at him. “We need to get back into that website.”

  “We need a computer.” He placed a hand over hers and she dropped the pen as she stood up.

  He kissed her, one hand running through her hair as the other drew him to her. “You’re amazing,” he murmured.

  “Not so much,” she said as she pulled away. “Let’s go down to the business center, there’s no time to waste.”

  “I don’t know if that’s wise, an Internet café would be a better option.” Max shrugged. “I’m no good at espionage or keeping secrets, it’s not my field. But I’d suspect that an anonymous Internet café might be less traceable than a hotel business center. Besides, from the looks of this place, what are the odds they have one?”

  “Agreed. Do you have any idea . . .”

  “As a matter of fact, I do. We passed one just a block away on the
way here.” He looked at his watch. “It’s only eleven o’clock so hopefully it’s still open.”

  “Let’s go.” She handed the doll to Max, who put it in his daypack.

  On the street, the sidewalk was still crowded with pedestrians but the night traffic had thinned.

  The Internet café was tucked between an herbalist shop and a cramped grocery store. Inside, the little shop was bright with four strings of fluorescent lights that could light twice the space the shop covered. The result was a blinding glare. A young man looked up, his eyes hidden behind thick, almost opaque lens. He looked slightly put out as he put his book down, flipped upside down in a manner that bent the spine.

  Andra glanced at Max and smiled as she saw the flat line of his lips and knew he was resisting the urge to straighten the book and realign the cover.

  “Is there a free computer?” he asked.

  A brisk nod was the only answer as the boy stood up and pointed to a far corner machine.

  From overhead tinny speakers pounded out something harsh and vaguely recognizable as a rap tune.

  There were three other machines occupied and none of the users looked up at them. One slim young woman was rocking and mouthing words, her ear buds separating her from the rest of the world. Around them the cubicles were empty. Near the front a young woman typed with avid concentration, and closer to them, a young man also listened through earbuds while tapping away at his keyboard.

  Andra typed in the heart of our dream address and navigated the site until she came to the spot where the code unique to the doll was required.

  “I’m going to play a little,” she explained as she typed in Lixue. The screen blurred, Max leaned forward, and then the avatar shook her finger at them. Behind her the door remained closed.