SWITCHBLADE (Choi Ziyi Book 1)

by Mike Morris

  Ziyi bowed her head. "My apologies. I meant no insult. And I'm very grateful for your help."

  "Do you know how many of my people died in the bombings earlier? They didn't touch the rich living in their glorious starscrapers in the clouds. They struck at the poor and the workers instead. They killed them in transport stations while they were on their way home, and in shopping malls while they bought their dinners or clothes for their children. People died who are just statistics to the government. Yes, the attacks provoke outrage and shock, but once the images disappear from their holoscreens will they remember the mother of three killed on the way to her third job? Or the window cleaner who'll never see his son grow up?" Madame Wu paused for a moment so she could calm down.

  "They barely notice us while we are alive. Even less so when we are dead." Wu brushed a speck of dirt from her sleeve. "I'm helping you so you can help and protect my people. After all, the Empire was created to better serve the people, not for the people to serve the Empire. Most seem to have forgotten that distinction today."

  "The Empire has brought peace and prosperity to the world. Everyone has benefitted from its protection and guidance," replied Ziyi, but she couldn't deny the truth of Madame Wu's words. Who at the ICBB cared for anyone other than themselves? Xiao himself lived as far as possible from the citizens who made up the Empire. His home was, after all, at the top of the highest building in the city.

  Madame Wu smiled. "Come now. We've hardly experienced peace. Just because we don't battle over great tracks of land anymore doesn't mean we live in an age of tranquillity. Events of the past twenty-four hours have proved that. Just because we starve India instead of bombing them doesn't mean we are at peace. We've even taken 'our peace' to the stars. The Heavens must be so proud of us that we fight the Arabs even there."

  "How many people live here?" asked Ziyi.

  "About two hundred thousand. It's hard to be precise, as you can imagine," said Madame Wu. "Very few live up-level in the City itself. The structure is as dangerous as it looks. It provides a necessary deception but most live down here, under the harbour where it's safer."

  "The Empire has no idea," replied Ziyi.

  "Oh, it probably does, if it thought enough about it. All those immigrants have to find a home somewhere — whether they are smuggled across the borders or slipped in by boat or even just fail to return from a holiday here. Officially Hong Kong doesn't have any way of supporting them with housing or medical care, food or clothing. It certainly doesn't have jobs for them. We can provide all that."

  "So they find their way here?"

  "Or I find them. Give them a safe place to sleep. A job if they want it."

  Ziyi raised an eye at that and Wu shook her head. "Often the only law broken is the fact they are working without the necessary permits. The truth of the matter is my people keep Hong Kong running. They do the jobs that most of its legal inhabitants don't want to do and wouldn't do. What Chinese person will do manual labour, especially for less than minimum wage? But someone has to cook the food and clean the dishes and mop the floors."

  "So how did you come to be here? In charge? You're Chinese yourself," asked Ziyi. "Surely there's no need for you to live down here."

  "I was born here, as was my mother before me. Her father was one of the first police officers sent in to infiltrate the City."

  Ziyi couldn't stop the surprise showing on her face.

  Wu nodded. "Yes, he didn't die like the outside world thought. He was sent in to arrest a load of foreign barbarians but found people just in search of a better life. He stayed and helped build a home for the people here. This is my home, and one I'm very proud of."

  "And you can get into Aberdeen easily without going through the wire?"

  "Not just Aberdeen. My people work all over Hong Kong and Kowloon, so we need to access everywhere. A steady stream of people coming and going through the fence would hardly go unnoticed, so as we grew down here we've tapped into the MTR network to get around."

  The information stunned Ziyi. "How do you move between levels? Don't the retina scans block off access?"

  "You don't understand. We work everywhere, including the homes of some of the Empire's most wealthy families, in the government and even Police Stations. There are back doors open to us everywhere, where retina scans don't matter."

  "You can go anywhere?"

  Madame Wu nodded. "And I have people everywhere. People who are ignored by nearly everyone around them, seeing everything and reporting back to me."

  "Pardon my intrusion," said Robert as he entered the room. "But there is something you both need to see." He hurried over to a television screen and switched it on, switching to a news channel.

  Xiao's face filled the screen. "... It's been quite the ordeal but I'd like to thank the extraordinary efforts of the police who rescued me just in time. Once again proof we have the very best people in service to the Empire." Camera flashes bathed the Heir as he posed for the cameras.

  Relief flooded Ziyi. "He's alive."

  "Your Highness," called out a reporter. "Will the Empire take action against the American terrorists?"

  The smile faded from Xiao's lips. "What has become apparent is a much firmer hand is needed. Especially with the cowardly nuclear attack in Washington as well. I fully support all actions taken to restore order so far and rest assured - no mercy will be shown to any of those involved either directly or indirectly."

  An aide stepped in front of the cameras but not someone Ziyi recognised. "That is all for now. As you can imagine His Highness needs his rest. Please respect his desire for privacy as he takes time to recover from treatment by the American terrorists. Thank you."

  Xiao placed a hand on his aide’s shoulder. The man stepped aside and Xiao took his place in front of the cameras. “I would like to leave with some good news for everyone. During my ordeal, I had only one regret — that I had not asked my true love to marry me. I want to rectify that now.” He beckoned off-camera.

  All the joy in Ziyi vanished in an instant as she watched him take the hand of a woman who had previously been out of frame. A woman who looked exactly like Ziyi.

  Xiao dropped to one knee. “Choi Ziyi, will you do the honour of becoming my wife — and my future Empress?”

  “I do, your Highness,” replied Ziyi’s double.

  Ziyi stared at the screen as her mind struggled to take in what she was seeing.

  "The one thing I'm sure of," said Robert, "is that wasn't you on the screen."

  She closed her eyes and checked Xiao's GPS locator. It registered him as being in Central but moving. She checked the TV screen again, saw Xiao and the impostor getting into a car, and recognised the street as Queen's Road. "It's the real Xiao though."

  "What's going on?" asked Wu.

  Ziyi sighed, long and deep. She wanted to trust Wu and Robert but they were strangers — not even civilians. She'd broken a million regulations just being there already. She couldn't break any more. But the truth was everyone she normally trusted had turned on her — from Rui to the police — or she'd no way of contacting them — like Wing. The only thing she knew for certain was the conspiracy was far bigger than just a group of terrorists trying to strike a misguided blow for their freedom. She needed help.

  "I'm not Xiao's girlfriend — I'm his bodyguard." Ziyi told them everything over the next twenty minutes, from the initial attacks to Xiao's kidnapping to her relentless pursuit of the terrorists while being attacked herself to Rui's betrayal.

  "But Xiao's safe now — we saw on the news," said Wu. "The plot's failed."

  Ziyi shook her head. "I don't think so. I've got a feeling it's only just begun. Think about it — his best friend, and other bodyguard, is definitely involved. They've replaced me with a perfect replica. The police are involved. The Americans were provided with incredible levels of mek."

  "Perhaps the Americans were never meant to succeed — just pawns to be sacrificed," added Robert. “So they could replace you with someone
else — help control him or spy on him.”

  "That would make sense," replied Ziyi. "Xiao is — was — a reformist. He supported self-rule and independence in the Colonies. Attacking him has only harmed the American cause."

  "But helped the hardliners within the Empire," said Wu. "And now they can keep a closer eye on him going forward."

  "There must be more to it than that — something that I've not seen. Another agenda," said Ziyi.

  "Can't you go to the Residence and confront the impostor?" asked Robert.

  "Not if there's still a kill order out on her," replied Wu. “The real her that is.”

  "Rui thinks he killed her." The doctor looked at Ziyi, seeking confirmation.

  "They want a body — that's why they're still searching the harbour," replied Ziyi.

  "At least they won't dare look here," said Wu. "You can stay here and get your strength back — and plan your next move."

  "I already know what I have to do," said Ziyi. "I must see the First Minister — he's the only one with enough power to help me and save Xiao."

  "How do you know he's not involved?" asked Robert.

  Ziyi shifted in the bed. "He's already the third most powerful man in the Empire — what motive would he have?"

  Wu sighed. "In my experience, men can never have enough power."

  Alarms went off before anyone could say another word.

  22

  Wing

  Wing and Song pulled off the headset and fell once more into the real world. The alarm came from somewhere in the building, muffled through the soundproofed walls, but still loud enough to scare the shit out of them.

  "What's going on?" asked Wing. Fear surged within him once more.

  Song pulled her pistol free from her purse. "Wait here," she ordered. She opened the door a crack and peered into the corridor.

  Wing followed. "Is anyone..."

  Bullets ripped apart the doorframe, and Song threw herself back into the room, as she slammed the door shut with her foot. The locks engaged as more rounds pounded into it. "Cops. A lot of cops."

  "What do we do?"

  "Help me block the door with the bed. Maybe we can get out the window in the bathroom."

  "Shit. Shit. Shit." The gunfire had stopped, which wasn't a good sign. Probably meant the police would be setting up charges on the other side of the door to blow their way into the room.

  It wasn't easy moving the bed with his ankle, and Song ended up doing most of the work, but they got it done. It seemed so futile. At any moment Wing expected the door to blow off its hinges. No bed was going to stop a tactical squad intent on entry - he'd seen enough of the bastards at work - but he kept the thought to himself. Once it was in place, he hobbled into the bathroom after Song. He locked that door too - for all the good it would do them. It was only about an inch thick and made of the cheapest wood.

  "Fucking window won't budge," snarled Song through gritted teeth as she tried to force it open.

  Wing stood with his back to the door, heart pounding and panting for breath. "They're going to kill us if we don't get out."

  "No shit." Song stepped back and fired a shot through the glass. Wing flinched at the noise and covered his ears with his hands far too late to stop the ringing. She smashed the rest of the glass out of the frame with the butt of the pistol. "It's clear," she said after a quick glance out of it. "I'll go first. Once I say it okay, you follow. It's a short drop down to the alley."

  "Okay, got it," said Wing, desperately trying not to throw up again. How the fuck was he going to jump anywhere with his ankle?

  Song climbed up onto the sink and pulled herself out onto the window ledge. "We're good. Don't worry we're going to be..."

  The force of the explosion threw her from the window. Wing was hurled into the wall, smacking his head against the tiles. The world spun around him. Blood dribbled from his mouth. He barely noticed the bathroom door dangling from its hinges as smoke filled the room. He choked on the fumes and his eyes stung. Black-clad troopers rush in, safe behind their helmets from the tear gas.

  A boot cracked into his jaw. Another thundered into his stomach. He looked up as a rifle butt came crashing down. Blinding light exploded in every part of Wing's consciousness followed quickly by a wave of blissful darkness.

  Wing was barely aware of something being pulled over his head, a coarse fabric that smothered his face, ensuring the darkness stayed. Arms lifted him up and carried him back through the love hotel, and then out into the street. He was aware of flashing blue and white lights all around him despite the hood.

  Doors opened and he was flung onto a metal floor. His head smacked against the hard surface but he didn't have the strength to try and sit up. A boot kicked him just in case he had any stupid ideas, but he barely noticed. Voices spoke around him but they had no meaning. It was all just noise. His arms were yanked behind him and plexi-cuffs snapped on, biting hard into his skin.

  He sensed movement of some sort. Engine noise. His shattered mind managed to process that information into a realisation he was being driven somewhere. No doubt off to some dark corner to be dealt with out of sight. All the running had been for nothing. He should have let that gweilo throw him off the escalator and saved everyone, especially himself, a lot of pain and trouble. Hopefully someone would just pop a bullet in his brain and end it quickly. But he wasn't going to be that lucky — that much Wing knew. He was fucked. Why had he listened to Song?

  Song. He hoped she'd got away. He may be an idiot who deserved all he got, but not Song. Not Song.

  The vehicle bumped over something in the road, vibrating through his ankle and he groaned in pain.

  "Keep quiet," a voice grunted and emphasised the point with another kick to Wing's gut.

  He had no idea how much time passed, lying on the cold floor, listening to the rumble of the engine. The men didn't speak and their silence only served to unnerve Wing more. Little specks of light crept through the hood and he strained his eyes trying to focus on what the outside world looked like, but to no avail.

  Eventually the vehicle stopped. The guards lifted him by his arms off the floor and bundled him out into a sudden blast of air-conditioning. He shivered as the cold sweat on his body reacted to the change in temperature. They dragged Wing along a silent corridor, his feet occasionally bumping against the ground, sending shards of pain shooting through his ankle each time. Fear gripped him. He tried to fight the building anxiety, stifle the urge to cry and find some reservoir of courage, but he could feel his resistance ebb away as he was taken deeper into the abyss. He was conscious of each breath, greedily sucking in as much air as he could, aware he had only a limited number left. His heart raced and the tang of adrenaline stung his mouth.

  They paused for a moment until the hiss of doors opening beckoned them on. They passed through three more sets of doors until they finally stopped. There was something final in the way door locks engaged.

  The arms holding Wing up suddenly released him and he crashed to the floor. His knees took the full force of the impact against the metal surface and, without use of his arms, his face quickly followed.

  The plexi-cuffs popped open, but before Wing could manoeuvre himself upright, the guards attacked him from every direction with fists and boots. He curled up into the foetal position, covering his head and as much of his body as he could, begging for mercy.

  A foot crunched down on his ankle and Wing screamed for all he was worth. He could feel the bone splintering under the rubber sole. Another boot battered his jaw, silencing his howls. Tears ran down his cheeks, mixed with the blood and spit dribbling from his mouth and soaked into the black cloth that covered his face.

  "Enough," said a voice and the fists stopped raining down on him and the boots stepped back. Wing shivered as he waited for whatever was going to happen next.

  It may have been thirty seconds later or an hour — Wing had no idea — when they hauled him back onto his feet. He nearly collapsed again when he put weight on h
is shattered ankle, but the arms held him tight. He flinched as a blade popped open. Someone cut this underwear away, leaving him naked.

  The air conditioning added to Wing's woes, cruel in the way it passed over his skin. He tried to cover his modesty but the grip on his arms was unrelenting. A chair scraped across the floor behind him and knocked into the back of his legs as a hand pushed him down. The metal seat sucked even more heat from his skin. The guards strapped his wrists to the side of the chair and clamped his ankles to the legs. His broken ankle protested yet again as the shackle secured it.

  Blind and broken, exposed to everyone, Wing sobbed for mercy. No one responded. Instead, the men stepped away. He heard the door open and close again and the silence smothered him.

  His cries were all that remained in the room, along with the only certainty of death would be coming to call. The only question left was how long he had left to wait.

  Wing prayed to whatever God was out there to come and save him. He didn't deserve to die trussed up and alone in the depths of some government pit. Deleted out of existence without even a body for his parents to mourn. He'd been a good and loyal servant, giving his all in the service of the Emperor. Someone must know he was innocent. It was all some gargantuan mistake. It had to be. He rattled the arm cuffs and screamed in frustration and fear. It wasn't how he wanted to die.

  Eventually the tears dried up and his breathing returned to normal. As each minute passed, the fear subsided a little, leaving him with just the pain as company. His ankle splintered more with the slightest of movements. Blood filled his mouth from loose and broken teeth. His body shivered under the cold air that blasted over him and he could feel the bruises blooming across his skin.

  The doors hissed open and Wing jerked his head towards the sound. "Who's there?"