What Doesn't Kill You

by Iris Johansen

  “Enough, Catherine,” he said gently.

  She barely heard him. She was back in that scented room with Carruthers’s sweaty body over her, hurting her. “But I didn’t know how to do it. He liked to keep me bound. Ropes. Chains. Handcuffs. He never trusted me because I was always fighting him. But that night I realized what I had to do. He was calling me his little baby whore and saying what else he’d make me do before he turned me over to anyone else, what he’d teach me.” Her fists knotted into fists. “But I didn’t have to be taught. I’d grown up with whores. I knew what they did to make a man do what they wanted. Carruthers liked to think he was powerful. All I had to do was pretend to be beaten, then do the things I’d seen my mother and Natasha do to their customers. I began to touch him, use my fingers, my tongue. He liked it. No, he loved it. It was easy.

  “The first night he was surprised, but he still kept me tied. The second night I told him what else I’d do to please him, things I said my mother had taught me. But that I couldn’t do any of those things bound up as he had me. He was tempted, I could tell. But it wasn’t until the fourth night that he took off both the ropes and the cuffs. As he was doing it, I lay there on the bed and watched him. My heart was beating hard, and I knew that everything I’d planned was going to happen.

  “He stood there, looking down at me. ‘You’re smiling,’” he said. ‘I always knew that this was all you were good for, all that would make you happy.’ He lay down beside me. ‘Now show me, little whore. Give it to me.’”

  “So I did.

  “I crawled over him and started touching him. He closed his eyes. I reached for the brass statue of Hercules on the nightstand.

  “I called his name before I hit him with it. I made him open his eyes. I wanted to make sure he knew it was coming and that I had done it. I hit him, and I hit him again, and kept on hitting him until I was sure he was dead.”

  “And then you ran away?”

  “That’s what I started to do, then I stopped. I wasn’t going to have the police after me for the rest of my life for killing that scum. I got dressed and ran out of the house. Two hours later I was at Emma Carruthers’s house adjoining the orphanage. I woke her up and told her what I’d done. I told her she had to fix it so that no one would know I’d killed him, or I’d tell everyone what he’d done and that she’d sent me to him. Her fine life of prestige and privilege would be over. If she covered up his death, I’d disappear, I’d go back on the streets, and she wouldn’t hear from me again.”

  “She agreed?”

  “She was still fuming and cursing me when I left her. But the next day I read in the paper that Carruthers had tragically fallen down the stairs of his fine home on Graham Street and was found dead by his devoted and bereaved wife the next morning.”

  “And she’s caused you no more trouble?”

  “No, the police never picked me up. I went back to Wen Chai, where I was before I went to the orphanage.”

  “Not quite where you were. Experiences alter us.”

  “I’m not sorry I killed him. I’d do it again,” she said fiercely. “He had no right. I’m not a whore. I’m not a toy.”

  “Shh.” He was on his knees before her. His hands were stroking her hair with the gentlest of touches. She felt as if she was enveloped, surrounded, in that cloudlike tenderness. How strange … “Shall I tell you what you are? You’re a child of the sun. You’re all golden and ebony and silk on the outside. On the inside, there is strength and clarity and honesty. I look at you, and I believe that life is good. Remember, I told you I was proud of you? I’m a hundred times more proud now to have you for my friend.”

  She couldn’t speak for a moment. “You talk like a damn poet or one of those stuffy books they had me reading at the orphanage.” Her eyes were stinging. “You’re right, I am strong. I didn’t let that bastard hurt me or change what I am. But I’m not proud of what I did. And you’re very strange to value me more because I had to kill him. I don’t think more of you because you poisoned those men who killed your parents. Though I can see why you did it.”

  “We are different. I’m a little beyond your experience. You’ll catch up someday. You were terribly hurt, but not enough to take joy in revenge or to do it properly.” She couldn’t see him smile in the darkness, but she knew he was doing it. “I’ll take that joy for you.” He took her two hands in his. “I thank you for the gift of your trust. I will treasure it.”

  Warmth. Comfort. Bonding. The absence of loneliness. It was too much, too intense. She had to back away from it. “This doesn’t really mean anything. I’m still going back to Hong Kong in the morning.”

  “Of course, but the gift has been given. You can’t take it back.” He dropped her hands. “Go back to your pallet. You will sleep now. When you wake, you will pretend that nothing has happened, and so will I. But when you’re in need, you will know that something has changed, that you have someone to fill that need.” He stretched out with one graceful motion. “Tomorrow, the day after, next year … Who knows how long? We’ll have to see, won’t we?”

  Catherine stood there, hesitating. She didn’t want to leave him. She wanted to talk to him, feel that bonding again.

  She was being foolish. People came and went in your life, and you couldn’t expect any of them to stay. “Friendship” was only a word. She turned to leave. “Sleep well, Hu Chang.”

  She had reached the beaded door when he answered. “Stop worrying, Catherine. It will come together. We’ve started to blend a powerful mixture, now we only have to seek the balance.”

  “Balance? Everything is balance with you.” But she was feeling her spirits rise as she said it. “I’d rather throw everything in the mix and see what comes of it. And I’m not worrying. Why should I? I can take care of anything that comes along.” She heard him laugh as she went through the beaded door. She liked the sound of his laughter. It was so familiar now. She had grown accustomed to hearing that laugh, the dry humor of his remarks, the way he looked quizzically at her when she was impatient or questioning him.

  She would miss him.

  The knowledge stunned her. She had known the apothecary for only a few weeks. She couldn’t remember missing anyone but her mother for a little while after she had died. But she had been so young then that sadness had faded in the urgency of just staying alive.

  But she would miss Hu Chang.

  CHAPTER

  6

  “HERE IS SOMETHING TO EAT on the way back to the city. Fish and a little rice and bread.” Hu Chang handed her a foil-wrapped package. “It would be wise of you to avoid going back to the docks even if you have people who might help you there. Wong will be keeping an eye on that area.”

  “I wasn’t going to be that stupid.” She tucked the package in her jacket pocket. “Though Wong may have become involved in one of his gang-turf battles and forgotten about me.”

  “You do not believe that.”

  “Anything is possible. Isn’t that what you tell me, Hu Chang?”

  “Where will you live if you’re avoiding the dock area?”

  “There are empty warehouses near the dock. I can shelter there until it’s safe to move somewhere permanent.”

  “You could shelter here.” He held up his hand as she opened her lips to protest. “If you find it necessary. My door is open. Even if I am no longer here.”

  She stiffened. “Where are you going? Not back to Hong Kong?”

  He smiled. “You think it would not be safe for me? But I was only the victim, not the aggressor.”

  “That doesn’t matter. You were there when Wong was humiliated. They burned your shop to the ground.”

  “Yes, that did annoy me.”

  “You’re not being sensible.”

  “And you’re being amazingly protective. I am touched.”

  And he was being mocking and faintly patronizing. “Protective? Why should I care what happens to you?” She whirled away and started toward the front door. “I have enough problems just
keeping myself alive. It’s just not smart to risk going back to the city if you have nothing to gain from it. You can’t rebuild that pile of ashes.”

  “I could if I find it worthwhile. But I have another interest in Hong Kong. I’ll look into rebuilding the shop later.”

  “Not me, Hu Chang. I don’t need your help. I won’t take it.”

  “I’m aware of that.” He waved his hand. “Now be on your way. You need to get to the city and find shelter before dark.”

  He was treating her like fathers she’d seen in the city whisking their children off to school. It should have made her feel indignant. It did not. It made her feel … warm. She turned away. “Good-bye, Hu Chang.”

  “Wait. It might prove safer if you stay away from your usual clients and sources in the city. Most of them are in the neighborhoods Wong considers his turf.”

  “Yes, but how do I earn a living if I stay hidden inside a warehouse and off the streets? That’s not possible.” She added caustically, “As I told you, it’s not as if I can close myself away brewing potions and medicines as you do.”

  “That’s true. Particularly since you have no real talent for anything but the easiest of mixtures.” Before she could shoot a reply back at him, he added, “No, I was thinking that you should take your present endeavors to the next level. Do you ever sell information to the police and Chinese military?”

  “Sometimes.” She shrugged. “But the police don’t pay well, and the military has the reputation of getting rid of informants if the information is what they call ‘sensitive.’”

  “I can see why that would deter you.” He paused. “Have you ever dealt with the Americans?”

  “I sold the American ambassador information about a Russian general who was having meetings with the Chinese.”

  “No, that’s a onetime transaction, not what I’d call regular work. What about the American CIA?”

  She shook her head. “I’ve heard they’re hand in glove with the British in the city. I don’t deal with the British if I don’t have to do it.”

  “I can see how you’d have reservations. Do have any prejudice against the Americans?”

  She shook her head. “My mother said my father was an American soldier. He left her before I was born, but he never hurt us.”

  “Neglect is not hurt?”

  “He just went away. People go away. Why do you ask?”

  “Because I believe you should reconsider the advantages of dealing with the CIA. They have a gigantic thirst for information and might keep you from having to deal with anyone else who might prove dangerous right now.”

  She shook her head doubtfully.

  “Think about it. I believe you may be wrong about the attachment of the CIA to the British. There’s a new field agent in town by the name of Venable. I’ve done business with him, and I’d judge him to be totally committed to his own country’s agendas.”

  “What kind of business?”

  He smiled. “No, he didn’t purchase a poison from me. Though that would not have surprised me. He needed a truth drug that had certain special properties. He paid promptly and, other than threatening me with a dire fate if I’d cheated him, the transaction was not unpleasant. I would not recommend him as a new source of income to you if I’d had any apprehensions. His office is at the Princess Hotel, far away from Bruce Wong’s turf.”

  “I’ll have to face Wong sometime.”

  “If one of his gang rivals doesn’t kill him first. There is always that happy thought.” He turned back to his laboratory. “Remember, the CIA agent’s name is Venable…”

  Fourteen Days Later

  Hong Kong

  1:40 A.M.

  CATHERINE GLANCED CAUTIOUSLY DOWN Sun Ti Street before she ran across to the door of the deserted warehouse. There had been no sign of Bruce Wong and his triad anywhere near this area since she had come back to Hong Kong, but that didn’t mean he might not appear. She had been careful, on the streets only at night and trying to contact only her informants who had some loyalty to her. But as far as she knew, there was still a bounty on her head from the triad, and money sharpened people’s eyes.

  She ran up the flights of stairs to the third floor, where she had her blanket and thermos. This place seemed as safe as any other, but she should probably find another warehouse next week. Moving around was always a better plan than going to ground in a single hiding place.

  A few minutes later, she’d settled on her blanket and pulled another one over her. She should be tired, but she was still wired from the day. She’d done another job for Venable today, and they were always a challenge … and usually a little dangerous. When he wanted information, it was something that she had to walk a tightrope to get for him.

  That was all right with her. He paid well, and he’d never tried to cheat her during the last two weeks. Hu Chang was right, Venable was proving one of the best customers she’d ever had.

  Hu Chang.

  She felt a sudden pang of loneliness as she remembered those words. Loneliness? Forget about him. Perhaps the loneliness had always been there, but she had never been so aware of it until those weeks with that crazy apothecary. She had been right to leave, to get back to her own life, to leave him before he left her.

  And she was only lonely in moments like this, at the end of the day, when she was a little tired. It would go away entirely after a month or two. She would be—

  Sounds from downstairs in the warehouse.

  Footsteps.

  Catherine listened.

  They were trying to be quiet, but their boots creaked on the loose boards. She counted. One. Two. Maybe three. It was hard to tell.

  Two or three men. Either way it wasn’t good. It was after midnight, and no one should be in the deserted warehouse. Unless she’d been seen when she’d come back from seeing Venable tonight.

  And if she’d been seen by someone, then she was now prey.

  Bruce Wong?

  Logical answer. There were all kinds of scum on the streets, but it was Wong who was targeting her.

  Get prepared.

  There was no elevator in the warehouse, and he would have to come up the spiraling wooden stairs to where she was on the third floor.

  He would probably have weapons. Knives, perhaps even guns. She had no weapons except a knife that was in the holster on her thigh, and the board with nails that she’d put in readiness by the staircase. No, her ability at martial arts was also a weapon, and Wong would be using caution with her in close quarters.

  But three against one was not good odds, and she should probably hit them, hurt them, then get away.

  No sound. They mustn’t realize she was awake.

  She glided to the window and quietly raised the sash. No one was on the street below. She threw down the rope she’d already fixed to the wall beside the window.

  They were coming up the staircase.

  She ran back to the steps and grabbed the board with the embedded nails.

  “Watch out!”

  It was Wong’s voice, but it wasn’t Wong who was first on the stairs, she realized with disappointment. It was Kwan Lin, his lieutenant she’d put down at Hu Chang’s apothecary shop who exploded up the final few steps.

  He had a knife in his hand, and he was cursing. “I’ll cut your heart out, bitch.”

  She swung the board, but he ducked, and the nails only grazed his head.

  He screamed with rage and dove at her, knife raised. She hit him again with the board, and the nails sank deep into his skull.

  He fell to the floor.

  But another man had emerged from the staircase.

  Again, not Wong. Son of a bitch. Coward.

  Attack.

  She jumped forward and swung her leg, connecting with her toe to his throat. He gasped, and his stride broke. But he recovered and plunged forward again.

  “You fool, get her. She’s only a woman.” It was Wong on the steps behind him. “Do you want everyone on the street to know that she beat you?”
/>
  Catherine was breathing hard as she sidestepped the lunge. “Did you tell them how I took you down, Wong?” She grabbed his lieutenant, put her arm around his throat, and held him in front of her as a shield with her knife to his throat. She told him, “Don’t move, or I’ll slit your throat.” She looked at Wong over his shoulder. “No, you probably didn’t tell them. You were too ashamed. All your lieutenants and your whores would have laughed at you. But I see you brought help this time.”

  “I don’t need help.” He drew a pistol out of his jacket. “I wasn’t expecting any trouble when I went after the apothecary. You caught me off guard.”

  “Excuses, Wong?” She couldn’t get close enough to grab the gun. Better to get out and live to fight another day. She started to back away from Wong toward the window, dragging his lieutenant with her. “What did you just say? ‘She’s only a woman.’ It’s too bad you’re not a man.”

  He was cursing, his mouth twisted, ugly. “You’ll see if I’m a man, you bitch. I’ll stake you out and screw your brains out. I’ll keep you alive for the next month and chain you and beat you and make you scream like the whore you are.”

  Chains.

  Stakes.

  Whore.

  She couldn’t breathe, her stomach was clenching with anger … and fear.

  Don’t remember that other time. Carruthers had not won out over her then. The memory must not beat her now. And Wong would not have his chance at her. Not if she did not panic.

  She took another two steps back toward the window.

  “Would that make you feel like a man? Hitting women? I can see you puffing up like a rooster. You like to see people helpless, don’t you? Is that how you felt when you were beating up Hu Chang?”

  “Yes, but he wasn’t important. He was just in my way.”

  “Make her let me go, Wong,” his lieutenant croaked. “You didn’t tell me this would happen.”

  “Why should I tell you anything? You should have just obeyed orders.”

  “I’m bleeding. She’s cutting me.”