Phoenix (14 page)

I stared. Behind the flapping remains of his pant leg was one of the largest calf muscles I’d ever seen. Slim’s leg was shaved, and it looked as if someone had replaced his calf with a softball. Bulging veins crisscrossing his calf even resembled softball stitching.

Hú Dié shrieked, and I spun around. She was standing now, pointing toward the motorcycle as it raced through the gap in the wall and disappeared into the trees.

“What?” I asked.

“That driver,” she replied. “Do you know him?”

“Yeah, he and the big guy are the ones who broke into my house.”

“No, no,” Hú Dié said, shaking her head. “You already said that. I mean, do you know his name?”

“Of course not. Why?”

“Because
I
do. I would recognize that calf muscle anywhere. I have had a crush on those legs and the man they belong to for a long time. His name is Lin Tan, and he is a Chinese cyclocross racer. He recently moved to Europe to join a Belgian race team called Team Vanderhausen. ‘V equals Victory.’ Have you heard of them?”

I stared at Hú Dié in
disbelief. I glanced across the stained cobblestones at Grandmaster Long, who was still lying in front of the stone shed. Then I looked back at Hú Dié.

Her eyes remained fixed in the direction the motorcycle had gone.

“That man rides for Team Vanderhausen?” I asked. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” she replied. “Calf muscles like that are unique, especially with those veins. That was Lin Tan. I am sure of it.”

“Well, your crush just stole Grandmaster Long’s dragon bone. He may have killed him, too.”

Hú Dié turned toward the monk and gasped. We headed for Grandmaster Long.

I cursed as we knelt next to the old monk, trying hard not to look at his leg burns. I was ecstatic when he opened his eyes.

“Phoenix?” Grandmaster Long asked in a strained voice.

“Yes,” I replied loudly. “I’m here. Can you hear me?”

Grandmaster Long nodded. “I can hear you. My vision is returning, too. Those were stun grenades. Their effects are designed to be short-term.”

“But your legs,” Hú Dié said. “They are badly burned.”

Grandmaster Long raised his head and peered down at the blistering skin on his shins. He smirked, laying his head back down. “I was an Iron Shin master in my younger days. The training destroyed most of the nerve endings below my knees. I hardly feel a thing. I will heal soon enough. Dragon bone will help.”

“But it’s gone,” I said. “Those guys took it.”

“All of it?” Hú Dié asked.

I motioned toward the remains of the shattered dragon bone vessel. “I might be able to sweep a few teaspoons’ worth from the cracks in the cobblestones, but it will be dirty.”

“Dirty is fine,” Grandmaster Long said, “and two or three teaspoons will be sufficient. By the time I use it up, I will have healed enough to travel to another location, where I have more hidden. It is not a lifetime’s worth, though. Phoenix, I am sorry. I will no longer be able to help your grandfather.”

I lowered my head. “I understand. I apologize for the misfortune I have brought you.”

“There is no need to apologize.”

“But it’s my fault,” I said, looking up. “I don’t know how, but they followed me. I think I know how to find them, though. I will get it back.”

“You know who did this?”

“Hú Dié believes she recognized one of the men.”

“It is Lin Tan,” Hú Dié said. “I’m certain.”

“Who is Lin Tan?” Grandmaster Long asked.

“A professional bicycle racer,” I said.

“A cyclist?” Grandmaster Long said. “Hmm. In addition to its accelerative healing qualities, dragon bone also enhances physical performance. Perhaps the thieves have learned this.”

“That’s it!” I said. “Bicycle racing is crazy competitive. Like a lot of sports, multimillion-dollar contracts are at stake. Riders are always looking for an edge.”

“They have no idea what they are dealing with,” Grandmaster Long said. “Dragon bone is dangerous. What will you do next?”

“I’ll figure something out. First, I need to use a telephone.”

“There are no phones here.”

“There is one at the shop,” Hú Dié said.

“Then we have to get back there,” I said. “Nice work stopping the big guy’s motorcycle with your seat post, but do you think you can still ride Trixie?”

Hú Dié shook her head. “No way. My seat post has to be trashed. I can’t ride all the way back to Kaifeng without one, and we can’t both ride your bike. We might be able to take the motorcycle, though.”

“Do you think you can fix it?” I asked. “Do you even know how to drive one?”

Hú Dié looked offended. “If it’s made of metal, I can fix it. If it has two wheels, I can ride it.”

“You rock,” I said, and turned to Grandmaster Long. “Is there anything we can do for you?”

“No,” Grandmaster Long replied. “I will be fine.” As if to prove his point, he stood. He wobbled a bit, his legs looking as though they might give out any second, but then he steadied himself. “I have been in far worse condition, Phoenix,” he said. “So has your grandfather. When I lost my eyesight from that flash grenade, all I could think about was him.”

“Why?”

Grandmaster Long sighed. “You do not know this tale, either?”

“Grandfather told me that he once knew a boy who lost his eyesight, but the boy’s vision returned after using dragon bone. That boy was Grandfather?”

“Why don’t you ask him?” Grandmaster Long said. “We have work to do. I will get something to put the dragon bone in. You two, fix that motorcycle.” He turned and slowly began to walk toward the inner compound.

Hú Dié was already heading to Meathead’s motorcycle. “Go get the backpack,” she called.

I retrieved the hydration pack from my bike and went over to where she was kneeling beside the motorcycle. She had pulled Trixie’s seat post from the spokes of the motorcycle’s front wheel. The aluminum bicycle seat post was bent and cracked. It was useless. The motorcycle spokes, however, didn’t look too bad. Two were broken, and one was bent, but the rest of them and the front fork appeared to be fine.

“Maybe we’re in luck,” Hú Dié said. “Find my multi-tool. It kind of looks like an oversized Swiss Army knife.”

“I know what a multi-tool is,” I said, digging through the pack. I found the device and slapped it into Hú Dié’s waiting palm like an operating room nurse handing a clamp to a surgeon. She unfolded the multi-tool’s pliers and used them to twist the two broken spokes around the two nearest undamaged ones. Then she began to tap each of the remaining spokes, one at a time, with the pliers.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Hush!” she replied. She continued tapping, lightly striking each spoke in sequence around the entire wheel. I noticed that the spokes all rang out at more or less the same pitch, which probably meant they were all under the same amount of tension. This was good. Hú Dié tapped the bent spoke last; I heard what sounded like a dull thump.

She turned to me. “I think we can ride it. The spokes sound like they are all tightened about the same amount, except for the bent one, but there is no point in trying to straighten it. If I accidentally break it, we’re done. Three broken spokes is one too many. Help me stand her up. I need to check one more thing.”

I helped Hú Dié muscle the motorcycle onto its wheels, and I grunted with the effort. It had to weigh close to three hundred pounds.

“This thing is heavy,” I said.

“Heavy is good,” she said. “It means there is a lot of
gas.” She removed the gas cap and peered into the tank. Hú Dié smiled.

“We really are in luck,” she said, replacing the cap. “This bike has an oversized gas tank for long-distance riding, and the tank is nearly full. Most motocross motorcycle tanks hold less than two gallons, which would only get us fifty miles, maximum. This one holds almost double that. We should be able to make it all the way home without refueling. It also has passenger foot pegs welded on.”

I noticed there was a bungee net strung over the back section of the seat, holding down a small folded blanket. “What’s this?”

“I don’t know,” Hú Dié replied, “but you’re going to have to get rid of it. Otherwise, you’ll have nowhere to sit.”

I unhitched the springy cargo net and grabbed the blanket. There was something wrapped inside. I flipped back the top fold and saw a brand-new notebook computer. Promotional stickers were still affixed to its outer casing, touting the machine’s high-end capabilities. I opened the lid and it woke from sleep mode.

My blood ran cold.

Hú Dié looked at me. “A computer? That’s interesting. What’s wrong? You don’t look so good.”

“I know how those guys found us,” I said. “This computer is running GPS software. I believe it was used to program
my
GPS unit. They must have stolen the computer from my grandfather’s friend PawPaw. She told me
that she just bought a new notebook.” I minimized the GPS software window and saw that the computer’s wallpaper was a photo of a Chinese apothecary shop. “This was PawPaw’s, for sure. I have to get to a phone as quickly as possible.”

“Let’s leave now. Go get our helmets. I’ll try to start the motorcycle.”

“What about the backpack?”

“Leave it. I don’t want to risk you on the back with all that extra weight tossing you around. I’ll return sometime and get it, along with Trixie. I can’t abandon her. We should probably leave the computer, too, unless you think we’ll need it. It will be too difficult to carry.”

“We don’t need it.” I pulled my passport and wallet out of the pack and shoved them into one of my cargo shorts’ zippered pockets. Then I clamped the computer under my arm and retrieved our bike helmets as Hú Dié climbed onto the motorcycle and fired it up, working the kick-starter, clutch, and throttle like a pro. The dirt bike sounded fine.

I strapped on my helmet and looked back toward the stone shed. Grandmaster Long had returned with a small Chinese teacup, a piece of rice paper, and an old-fashioned Chinese calligraphy paintbrush. He was lying on the cobblestones, brushing dragon bone from the cracks onto the paper, then pouring the dragon bone into the teacup.

I jogged over to him and set the computer next to the teacup. “Do you think you will see PawPaw soon?”

“I was just thinking about arranging a meeting with her,” he replied. “Why?”

“Could you please give this to her? And could you also keep our pack and bikes until we can figure out a way to get them back?”

“Of course. The computer belongs to PawPaw?”

“I’m pretty sure, yeah. She said she bought a new notebook computer to program the GPS unit that she loaned me in order to find you.”

“You think those men stole it from her?”

“Yes. Those guys probably bugged our phone in Indiana or placed a listening device in our house or something. Then they would have known that I was going to see her before coming here. I’m so stupid for not thinking of it sooner. I’m worried about her.”

“Did those men harm you or your grandfather?”

“Not really.”

“Then it is very likely that PawPaw is safe. They don’t sound like killers. They may have stolen whatever dragon bone she had readily available, but even that would likely be an insubstantial amount. PawPaw is the most careful of the three of us.”

“I still plan to call her when we get back to Kaifeng. I don’t care if someone has bugged her phone. I need to make sure she is okay.”

“Then you had better get moving. She goes to bed early and sleeps like the dead. It is a side effect of the dragon bone. She won’t hear your call.”

“I know,” I replied. “Grandfather is the same way.” I
bowed. “Thank you for everything, Grandmaster Long. I hope to see you again soon and return your dragon bone.”

Grandmaster Long nodded. “Visit me regardless of what happens with the dragon bone. I still have many stories to share. Best of luck to you. I fear you are going to need it.” He waved to Hú Dié, and she waved back, revving the engine.

I bowed one more time and then ran to Hú Dié. I handed her bicycle helmet to her, and she strapped it on as I climbed onto the seat behind her. There was very little room, and the firm, rectangular seat was uncomfortable. It got worse when I raised my feet onto the passenger foot pegs and found that my knees were nearly even with my chin. I was beginning to wonder what I should do with my hands when Hú Dié turned to me.

“You know how you often see women riding as passengers on motorcycles, and they have their arms wrapped loosely around the driver’s waist?” she asked.

I swallowed hard. “Yes.”

“Well, those women are idiots. Motorcycles designed for two people have handles. That’s where you hold on. This motorcycle wasn’t originally designed for two, but someone added those foot pegs and oversized bungee net tie-downs, which also serve as handles. Use them. The other option would be for you to latch tightly on to me like that big guy did with Lin Tan. Try that, and you’ll find yourself eating one of my elbows.”