by Dakota Banks
The door slid shut behind her. She went down a short hallway, rounded the corner, and came out into the open space of her haven. On one wall was a weapons cache. The wall that faced Lake Michigan arced in a half circle. There were windows there, but they were covered with blackout cellular shades.
“Soft lights.” The voice-activated lights came on to her defined level.
Display cases scattered around the space held items she’d collected. The black ceiling had low-voltage lights all over, so that it looked like a night sky. She kicked off her shoes and wriggled her toes in the deep carpet. The haven began to work its magic on her. She glanced over at her sleeping area, the one living area that had a wood floor instead of carpet. It held a straw tatami mat. After her shower, she’d unroll a futon and sleep in a rejuvenating space.
First, she had some important business. She got the newest shard out of her backpack. She opened the floor safe she’d installed and put the shard in with the other two and the Tablet of the Overlord.
Four to go and I know where one of them is. I’ll have to learn about this Daniel Harper Master Liu mentioned.
The next morning, she went to her public condo. She found an envelope on the floor inside the door. It was white with no markings on the outside, no sign of having been mailed or delivered by courier.
A flash of foreboding chilled her.
Her fingers operating on automatic, she slit the top of the envelope. Fumbling it a bit, she saw something shiny slip out and fall to the floor.
It was a man’s gold ring, familiar because she’d given it as a gift. She read the inscription on the inside of it: Wisdom grows with years.
It was Yanmeng’s ring.
Oh no. No!
She checked the ring’s aura and found its elemental resonance overlaid with the seething black aura of the hand that had last held it. Maliha put everything down and called Eliu.
“Have you seen Yanmeng lately?”
“We’re both back in Seattle. He went to the Seattle Asian Art Museum yesterday, then I got a text that he’d met a friend there and was going to stay at his house last night.”
“Is that unusual?”
“Not at all. Our friend Shing’s wife passed away two months ago. Yanmeng has been keeping him company at times.”
“Did you try calling him?”
“No. Why? Do you need to talk with him?”
“Yes. It’s . . . urgent.”
“Just a minute.”
Eliu put her on hold. When she came back, she said, “I just tried reaching him on his cell. It’s turned off, but he always does that when he goes into the museum. Sometimes he forgets to turn it back on. So I called Shing’s home phone. He hasn’t seen Yanmeng in days! What’s going on?”
Yanmeng can defend himself. He wouldn’t give up his ring or anything else to a typical mugger. Something’s wrong here.
“Eliu, was he wearing the ring I gave him?”
“Always. I’m sure he had it on when he left yesterday morning. Why? You’re starting to scare me.”
“Has he been in touch by remote viewing?”
“Not since lunch yesterday! Tell me what’s wrong! Should I call the police?”
“I received a box a few days ago with Arnie Henshaw’s cap in it.”
“The doorman? I thought he retired. What’s that got to do with . . .”
“Arnie’s hat had blood on it and a note inside said he was dead. Then just now I received an envelope with Yanmeng’s ring in it.”
She hated to be so blunt, but there was no way to protect Eliu from the implications of Yanmeng’s ring being delivered. There was silence on the other end of the phone. It occurred to Maliha that Eliu might not share her husband’s view about the death of their son Xietai. Maybe to his mother, Xietai was not a scourge of the Earth. Maybe she did believe in unconditional love and had never stopped loving her son, despite his betrayal of them and his subsequent evil activities. And now here Maliha was, the son-killer, getting Eliu alarmed about her missing husband.
“Still there?” Maliha said.
“Yes. Should I call the police?” Her voice was very frightened.
“I think that might not be the best thing to do. If it were an ordinary kidnapping, the ring would have been sent to you, followed by a ransom demand. I think this has to do with me and the way Yanmeng helps me.”
“Then what can I do?” Eliu sobbed, “No, no, no . . .”
“I think you need to get away from your home. Come here. You could be in danger, too. Get here as fast as you can.”
“I have to stay here. He might come home. He could be injured.”
“If that’s what you have to do, I’ll get security guards for you. Just say the word and they’ll be outside and inside with you.”
“He’s not coming home right away, is he?”
Maliha didn’t want to let her own fear into her voice. “Maybe not right away. We have to work on this. I promise I’ll do everything in my power to bring him back safely. Everything.”
“Wouldn’t it put me in more danger if I came to your home? I’d be more exposed to the kidnappers there.”
“You’d also be with us. We can protect you, I swear.”
There was a brief pause while Eliu thought about her options. As the pause stretched out, Maliha was sure Eliu was going to turn down the offer.
If she doesn’t come, I’ll be sick with worry. I need to have her in my sight. I might have to force her to come here, even if she’d hate me for it.
“I trust you,” Eliu said. “I’m coming to Chicago. I know Yanmeng would want it that way.”
Maliha let out the breath she was holding. What a relief!
“Then pack a few things,” Maliha said. “In twenty minutes I’ll have security personnel at your door, a man and a woman. Ask them for their passwords before opening the door. The woman should say ‘pumpkin’ and the man ‘lightning.’ I’m going to set this up right now. They’ll get you on the first plane out of town, so you may hit a few other cities before you get to Chicago. Take care and see you soon.”
Maliha immediately dialed another phone number. A man picked up.
“Marcus,” he said.
“I need an escort to Chicago, the subject may be in great danger. Marcus, I want you and your wife to take this one personally. The subject lives a few minutes from your office.” She gave him Eliu’s name, address, and the passwords, then heard a woman’s voice in the background, giggling.
“Not in my office. How much time have I got?”
“Less than twenty minutes.”
“Damn, it’s gonna be tight. Hon, get the travel bags.”
“Marcus.” Maliha was on the verge of tears. “She’s a dear friend. I’ll triple your fee. Just get her here safely.”
“You got it.”
Maliha hung up the phone and collapsed into a chair. She shrieked and pounded her fists on the wooden arms of the chair, splitting the arms to splinters. She cried for a few minutes, and then her resolve hardened.
After I bring Yanmeng back, I will tear his captor to pieces. I swear it.
She called Hound and told him that Yanmeng was in trouble. He said he’d drop the high-priority case he was working on and be there as soon as he could. Amaro said he’d arrive in a couple of hours.
When Amaro arrived at Maliha’s public condo, she was wearing a white uniform, soaked with sweat, and using two swords. She was doing lunges to skewer an invisible opponent and fierce swings that sent an invisible head flying across the room. Items from the kitchen cabinets had been lined up on a counter and systematically destroyed as though someone had taken a chainsaw to them. She’d been practicing with her whip sword, a deadly weapon she wore coiled in a sheath around her waist. The whip sword had two long, flexible blades that an expert user could snap and swing at terrific speeds, severing limbs or whatever else was in the way. It was a vicious weapon and she used it with great skill.
“Okay, I can see you’re seriously pissed,” Amaro sa
id. “Tell me about it.”
His voice broke into her trance. She stopped and lowered the swords to the floor, making sure she caused him no injury. Amaro moved closer.
“Seeing you like that was kind of scary,” he said.
“So is what’s in that envelope.” She nodded her head in the direction of the packet on the counter.
He examined it, then sat down and put his head in his hands. “Is this a kidnapping for ransom?”
“I might suspect that, if it hadn’t been for the note. Arnie was the first one resting in peace. Yanmeng has to be the second, then. They’re not asking for money.”
Maliha sat on the floor, crossed her legs, and pulled a sword into her lap. She had her cleaning kit next to her, and began removing the old oil and sweat from the swords and then re-oiling them. She didn’t want to discuss anything more right now. Amaro went into his guest room to see if there was any chatter among his hacker friends.
Hound arrived with pizza, and the three sat around talking. Emotions were running high—one of their own was missing. Maliha took a slice of pizza on a paper plate, but she had no appetite for it. With the strenuous exercise she’d been through plus the stress of the situation, she avoided making eye contact with the slice.
“You going to eat that?” Amaro said.
Without a word, she passed him the paper plate.
“Do you think Chick had something to do with this? He had opportunity both when the box and envelope were delivered,” Hound said.
“I don’t know. I was surprised to see him when I first met him, and I didn’t think to view him,” Maliha said.
“Uh, view him? This is different from seeing him?” Hound said.
Maliha hesitated. She looked at two inquisitive faces and sighed. “Okay, I can view auras. They’re like energy fields surrounding everything. I can tell from the color and activity in the aura whether a person is good or evil, lying or telling the truth, angry or calm, and other things. Jake’s the only one I’ve talked to about it.”
“Have you viewed me?” Hound said.
“No . . . yes.”
“And?”
“You wouldn’t be here if I didn’t trust you completely. You too, Amaro.”
Hound snorted. “That’s a vague answer. We’ve got privacy rights, you know.”
“I know,” Maliha said. “And I needed to feel comfortable before I shared my story with you. I can’t undo what I’ve already done—once—but there’s the door if you feel violated.”
“Hound, shut up,” Amaro said. “Your so-called privacy is violated worse than that every time you get on the Internet. Like when you bought that black lingerie for Glass.”
“What the fuck! How did you know about that?” Hound said.
“If you’d think for one second, you’d know. You used one of Maliha’s credit cards. Who do you think pays the team’s bills? Me, that’s who.” He poked Hound in the chest. “And you call yourself a private investigator,” Amaro said.
“Could we get back to the subject?” Maliha said.
“Only if he doesn’t spy on me anymore,” Hound said. “Kid, anytime you want to finish what you started with that finger in the chest, just let me know.”
If I didn’t love them both, I’d kick them out.
“Do you two need a time-out in your rooms?” Maliha said.
There was no answer, but no more arguments, either.
“One of our friends is in mortal danger. Don’t you think we should stay on topic?” Maliha said. “This is really going to impress Eliu when she gets here.”
“Truce,” Amaro said.
“Truce,” Hound said. “You started it with that viewing business.”
Maliha was about to speak, but Hound held up his hand to fend her off. He went over to the envelope. “I’m going to check for fingerprints, not that I think I’ll find any.” He retrieved a fingerprint kit from a case he’d brought with him and got to work.
“What about asking Jake for help?” Amaro said. “Maybe he can look for government involvement.”
Maliha bit her lip. “I’ll have to think about it. Why do you think the government’s involved?”
“Just a hunch. It might have something to do with that video of you.”
“That was a month ago. You might have a point, though. Sounds like it’s time for you two and Eliu to go to a safe house.”
I could use their help but it’s too much to ask. Too dangerous. One member of the team has been targeted—the others could be next.
“You’re kicking us out when we want to help find Yanmeng?” said Hound.
“No way,” said Amaro, shaking his head. “Uh-uh. Not this time.”
Maliha frowned. “I don’t have time to worry about everybody.”
“Excuse me, Miss High-and-Mighty, don’t you think we’re worried too? We want to help and you’re not shunting us out of the way. If you think I’m going to go sit in some tin can and chew my fingernails . . .”
“Can’t you work from there? There are secure computers,” she said.
“Hell, no! I was planning to catch a flight to Seattle, where I can act like a goddamned private investigator and investigate!”
“Amaro, you . . .”
Amaro’s cheeks were flushed and his eyes narrowed. He shook his head.
“Who the hell’s in charge here?” Maliha said.
Maybe breaking up this team can’t come soon enough.
The room grew quiet. Another word tossed out and the tension would have ignited. Finally Maliha plopped down on the floor, unsheathed her whip sword, and began the delicate process of cleaning it—again.
Amaro went off to his room, slamming the door. Hound sat cross-legged on the floor, knee-to-knee with Maliha. It wasn’t an easy position for him to get into, with his old injuries, but he managed with a little grunting.
“That wasn’t intended as some kind of threat, was it?” he said.
“What?”
“Getting out that whip right at that moment. Asserting dominance.”
“Of course not,” she said.
“It’s hard for me to know. We’ve been friends for a long time. We were lovers. But there are still things I don’t know about you and know that I never will.”
She lowered her head. “I can give you one simple explanation why I’m on edge about this. It’s about guilt. Yanmeng’s gone. Other people I loved have died, and I haven’t been able to stop it.”
Just as she ducked back into the shelter of the lab bench, she saw the tall man pick up a piece of broken glass from the floor.
Maliha knew his intent as though their minds were one.
She rolled out from behind the bench and planted a star in the wrist of the nearest gunman. He screamed and dropped the gun. As she passed by him, she finished him with a blow to the throat, and then turned her attention back to the real danger in the room. She launched a throwing knife at the tall man. He was in motion as she threw, and instead of skewering his heart, the knife landed in his arm. It didn’t stop him from carrying through the action he’d started. He yanked Claire’s head back and slit her throat with the piece of glass.
No!
Blood spilled and she knew Claire was gone.
Hound didn’t answer for a while. She knew he had the same kind of memories from his days in Vietnam, and had been helpless to save some of the men he worked with every day.
“Things have piled up on you lately. It kinda comes with the territory, doing what you do,” he said softly. “When you were Ageless, you killed without guilt. Now that you’re partly human—or whatever you are—you experience both love and loss.” He paused. “Would you do without love?”
“There’s one form of love I almost wish I’d never opened up to. Lucius is gone, Jake is . . . maybe not the one for me.”
Hound looked at her quizzically, but she didn’t elaborate.
“I think I’m responsible for Yanmeng’s disappearance, and Arnie was just an opening act,” she said. “If Yanmeng dies
too . . .”
“Let’s not put him in the grave, yet. Maliha, you’ve got to bend on this. Let us help in the way we need to.”
Trying to calm her fears, she said, “All right. Just remember I can’t be everywhere at once.”
“We’ve never expected you to be.”
“What about Eliu—the safe room for her?” Maliha said.
“What do you say we leave it up to her choice? The new democracy.”
Maliha felt something slipping through her fingers that she knew she’d never get back. She was letting go of some degree of power she’d held because of her abilities.
Master Liu told me to learn humility. Maybe this is part of walking the mortal path.
“Okay.”
There was a knock at the door. Eliu didn’t have a key. Maliha assumed it was she, even though the doorman was supposed to announce guests. She ran to the door as Hound told her to slow down and check it out first.
It wasn’t Eliu. A small box sat right outside the door. Hound shoved her aside, looked each way down the hallway, and then headed for the emergency stairs at a run.
With her heart dragging the floor, Maliha brought the box in and opened it.
Inside, wrapped in paper towels, was Yanmeng’s index finger. She recognized the scar he’d gotten a long time ago in a tactical knife fight. There was a note demanding her presence at a meeting spot, alone.
Chapter Thirteen
Maliha wrapped the severed finger in a clean cloth and put it on ice in a cooler in the vague hope of reattachment, making sure that the flesh didn’t rest on the ice. It would be ready for transport immediately, but she didn’t think Yanmeng would be recovered in time for that. There had been a clean removal with a sharp instrument, perhaps a skillfully wielded knife or even a sword.
She grimaced. I’ve seen it all too often, a finger or hand cut off and sent to someone to intimidate. I should know—I’ve done it.
