Dangerous Journey (5 page)

“You tell me. I’ve told you all I know, C.J. Your brother’s name has been mentioned in and around Hong Kong in connection with the theft, but there’s no proof that I know of that he stole it.”

“Of course not, he’s innocent.”

“That’s not what’s being said,” Darius told her.

She felt her throat constrict and bit her bottom lip. “He is! It’s just…he’s not…” She couldn’t go on. The paper she’d found in Alan’s room had Bai-loong, the Chinese words for White Dragon, written on it. She shut her eyes, concentrating on blocking the thought that wanted to be born. It was more than coincidence, but it didn’t mean Alan was guilty.

Darius frowned, more at himself than at her. And then, with an expression that said he had no idea why he was allowing himself to get involved, he stood and held out his hand. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

“Where are we going?”

“Anything is better than going back to the Luchow police station, isn’t it?”

Spurning his hand, she picked up her large, leather shoulder bag. He didn’t seem to believe Alan was innocent, and she needed to know why. If she went with him, perhaps she would find out.

They rode the elevator in silence and didn’t say a word as they approached her car. The streets of Kowloon were bustling, as usual. Tourists from all over the world packed the area daily to look for bargains, merchants from throughout Asia were there to oblige them, and in the midst of it all thousands of resettled mainland Chinese lived, worked and played. At all hours of the day and night, Kowloon was one of the busiest places on the face of the earth.

“May I?” Darius asked as he took the car keys from her hand, unlocked the doors, then got into the driver’s seat.

 C.J. decided not to argue with him. Hong Kong’s traffic filled her with terror. Not only were the streets horribly congested, but the cars drove on the left side of the road. It was the opposite of the U.S., and the same as in Britain. She was all right as long as she was driving straight ahead, but making a left or right turn was an adventure. More than once she had ended up facing oncoming traffic.

“Where are we going?” Since he hadn’t offered to tell her, she decided to ask. It was her car, after all.

“To the American Consulate. Eventually.” He swung into traffic.

“Oh, yes, you do have a fondness for it, I recall.”

Her wry comment provoked a small smile from him. “Since the consulate is on Hong Kong Island, while we're there I want to pay a visit to an old friend, Jimmy Lee. He lives on the Peak.”

Fine, she thought. Now we’re going on social calls! What’s next? Charity work? She folded her arms and said nothing.

A little while later C.J. realized that Darius Kane led a charmed life. He not only easily navigated the heavy traffic in the Cross Harbour Tunnel, the underwater passage that connected the city of Kowloon with Hong Kong Island, but even more astounding, he found a parking place right by the station where they could catch the Peak Tram.

“Do you mind taking the tram instead of driving?” he asked.

“No,” she said, although she was surprised by his choice.

“I’ve always enjoy the ride. The view is terrific, and it’s actually the fastest way to Jimmy’s house since it goes straight up.”

Despite her previous irritation, she couldn’t help but smirk at the thought that “Dangerous” Kane liked train rides.

 The green funicular railcar arrived, and they got in. As they climbed Victoria Peak, one of the most exclusive areas in all of Asia, they looked out over the harbor.

Darius draped his arm over the back of her seat, then bent closer to point out an ancient Chinese junk sailing by, its red, ribbed sails catching the wind and carrying it efficiently along. To her dismay, she felt more intrigued by Darius than the junk. And she didn’t even care for the arrogant man!

As she watched, the hydrofoil that carried passengers from Hong Kong to Macao every half hour sped by, skimming over the water at a tremendous speed. The contrast between the two boats was as good an image of Hong Kong as C.J. would ever hope to see.

When the tram reached the uppermost station, they got off.

“It’s a bit of a walk to Jimmy’s, but there’s no better way to see Hong Kong than from up here,” he said. “It feels like you’re on top of the world.”

“It’s beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.” She looked out over the busy harbor sparkling in the bright sunlight. “This is the place to be when you don’t have a care in the world.”

“It’s hard to believe that in a few years Britain’s lease will run out and it’ll be turned over to Communist China. It will change, but no one knows yet how much. All we know is what we have here now is a little piece in time, a bit of history that may be forever lost.”

She stole a glance at Darius as he gazed out at the harbor, a solemn look of gloom and loss in his eyes. For all his easygoing charm, she still sensed a pervasive unhappiness about him. She wondered why, wondered what caused him to be in this place, living the way he did…being picked up by the British authorities.

But outwardly, what a picture he made with his strong profile, straight nose, and green eyes fringed by long, thick lashes. The golden highlights in his hair glistened like newly discovered gold whenever the bright sunlight peeked through the shade of the trees to find him. She would love to paint this scene of Darius and Hong Kong harbor from the Peak.

“There’s Jimmy’s place,” he said after a five-minute walk. His expression changed to a smile as open and genuine as a twelve-year-old’s.

Set well back from the street stood a large, white stucco house with high glass windows facing the harbor and a sharply angled roof. A high white stone wall with a massive wrought-iron gate surrounded the home.

The butler obviously recognized Darius, and invited him and C.J. into the house. They were led through an elegant, marble-floored entry hall into the living room. The room was stark, yet breath-taking, dominated by a wall of windows providing a view of the island and the sea beyond. The walls were white. Chinese designed carpets covered the polished hardwood floors. Tall, leafy fig trees and lush green ferns graced the room, and Buddhist sculptures were the only artwork. The sofa and chairs were white.

C.J. chose a seat near the windows. In a short while the butler appeared with cooling gin fizzes for them both.

“Darius! You're back!” a slightly accented voice cried out.

“Jimmy!” The two warmly clasped each other.

C.J. studied the man who had just entered the room. Jimmy Lee appeared about Darius’s age. He was tall, though not as tall as Darius. His features were as classically chiseled as a traditional Chinese painting, while his body was trim and muscular. The smile on his face made it obvious how he felt about his friend’s visit.

They stepped back from each other. Jimmy’s brow knitted slightly. “It’s been too long, Darius,” he said. “I was worried this time.”

Darius laughed. “Can’t count me out, Jimmy. You’ve got to learn that.”

Jimmy didn’t join Darius’s laughter. “You’re human. Don’t forget it. Buddha might not like such arrogance.”

Darius ignored Jimmy’s warning, placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder and turned him toward C.J. “I’d like you to meet Miss C.J. Perkins.”

Jimmy bowed slightly.

Darius continued, “C.J., this is my best friend, Jimmy Lee.”

“Pleased to meet you,” she said, standing and extending her hand.

“And you,” Jimmy replied as they shook hands. She felt that in the moment Jimmy had sized her up and filed her into a computer-like brain.

“C.J. is trying to find her brother, Alan,” Darius explained. “He went to Luchow and hasn’t been seen since. Now the police are asking about him and the White Dragon.”

“Bai-loong...I see,” Jimmy said thoughtfully. “Please sit down, Miss Perkins. I am sorry to hear your brother is missing.”

Something about the way Darius spoke and the way Jimmy exuded control made her believe that if anyone could help her negotiate the mysteries of Hong Kong, it was Jimmy. She told him her brief story.

He nodded as she spoke, neither asking questions nor offering explanations. “I will make inquiries, Miss Perkins, and do what I can,” he said when she finished. He held out his hand to her. “But for now, permit me to show you my garden. It is in the Chinese style, with small shrubbery, rocks and a pond, in many ways similar to what Westerners think of as a Japanese garden, and in many ways different.”

“I would love to see it.” C.J. took his hand and stood.

Jimmy tucked her arm in his and turned to Darius. “My friend, I would enjoy hearing some music from you. I know it’s been a few weeks, so we’ll leave you to practice.”

Darius smiled. “I thought you’d never ask.” He walked across the room to large French doors and opened them to a room with a grand piano at the far end. Gold upholstered chairs faced it. As Darius stepped into the room, Jimmy Lee escorted C.J. into the garden.

A feeling of peace and tranquility permeated the landscaping. Jimmy was telling her about the different plants when the sound of rich glissandi and complex chords drifted out to them in rapid succession.

“That’s Darius?” she asked, incredulous.

“Yes. Outstanding, isn’t he?”

She listened, and soon the opening practice notes ended, and he launched into a familiar piece.

“I know that work,” she said, looking at Jimmy. “My God, it’s Rachmaninoff’s third piano concerto! I’m no musician, but I know it’s quite difficult.”

“Yes,” Jimmy laughed. “I know, too.”

“But he…” She listened for a while longer. “He plays beautifully!”

“You haven’t known Darius long, have you?”

She shook her head. “We just met yesterday.”

“Yesterday!” He sounded shocked.

“Yes. Why?”

“Nothing…nothing at all.” He seemed to study her even more carefully than previously before he continued. “I’ve known him for many years, since I was a student at Harvard. I even spent a few summers living with his family in Boston. That’s where I picked up this American accent.”

C.J.’s eyebrows rose at that.

He grinned. “Well, at least my British friends here think I sound like a Yankee. But back to Darius…anyone who’s around Darius for any amount of time soon learns of his love, his passion, for music. He’s good. Great, in fact. He could have been one of the outstanding pianists of our time.’’

“Could have been?”

“There was an accident,” Jimmy said, watching her reaction.

“Accident?” she questioned. “But he seems fine.”

“You said you aren’t a musician, which means that you, like myself, don’t hear things, flaws, the way Darius does. What can I say?” He shrugged.

C.J. shook her head and followed Jimmy as he continued along the garden paths. The romantic music filled the small garden, capturing her in its web, the beautiful music and the man who performed it with such emotion and passion boring their way deep into her soul.

Darius practiced nonstop for over an hour—demonic dances of Liszt, relentless rhythms of Prokofiev, and mystic auras of Scriabin. While he played, C.J. and Jimmy drank gimlets on the veranda, a gentle breeze blowing onto the hill from the harbor. Jimmy told her about Hong Kong, his banking business, and every so often asked a question or two about Alan and Luchow. C.J. found Jimmy a charming conversationalist. He was witty, kind, and pleasant to be with. Still, more than half her attention was on Darius and his music.

Yesterday, when she’d met Darius, he had seemed like a wild man. If he had announced that he was the real Tarzan, she wouldn’t have been surprised. But since then she had discovered him to be gentle and cultured, with talent that could have led to the world's top concert halls. Yet he lived in Asia without even a place to lay his head. It was puzzling.

As the sun rose higher and the humidity climbed, Jimmy decided it was time to go indoors.

“He would go on all day if we didn’t stop him.” Jimmy chuckled as they entered the music room. Darius was playing Chopin.

They listened until the piece ended, then applauded.

Darius looked up, startled to see them, as if the music had transported him to another time or another place, and it took a while to register where he was now.

Then he smiled, and C.J. felt her heart melt.

She and Jimmy walked toward the piano. Darius’s eyes locked with hers as she approached, the luminous green of the wilds seeming incongruous to her in this elegant environment.

“You play beautifully,” she said, surprised at the slight catch in her voice.

Darius glanced at his watch. “Look at the time! How could you let me play so long?” he asked.

C.J. and Jimmy looked at each other and laughed.

Darius turned to Jimmy. “We’ve got to get to the consulate, I’m afraid. I ‘lost’ my passport in Macao.”

“Lost your passport? What happened?” Jimmy looked concerned. “Was it the counterfeiters?”

“They won this round, I’ll admit. But I’ll win the next. I was set up. Facing twenty-five years from the police—and that’s the good news.”

“So how did you get out?”

“Overland,” Darius replied.

“Overland? That’s impossible.”

Darius grinned.

“Kane, no one waltzes through the People’s Republic of China. I don’t care how clever he thinks he is.”

“What if he knows he’s clever?”

Jimmy shook his head at Darius’s answer, “Someday, Darius...”

“Don’t worry, Jim. You know I always find the back door first. It’s only a sucker who gives himself just one way out.”

C.J. suddenly realized what they were talking about.

She felt her eyes widen in surprise as she looked at Darius. “You don’t mean you were crossing into Hong Kong from the Communist border when the Luchow patrol picked you up?”

The two men glanced at each other.

“But that’s impossible. The Chinese Army patrols...” she began, then stopped, realizing his story was absolutely true. She shook her head in amazement. “You did look as if you had just stepped out of the jungle.”

“One visit to Sarawak and she sees headhunters under every leaf. I’m sorry to disillusion you, but there are no jungles along the Chinese border,” Darius said.