Stealing the Dragon (29 page)
Linda’s hair was barely visible over the top of the newspaper, shifting back and forth as she read aloud.
“…believed to have died in the explosion, his identity being withheld pending notification of next of kin…the suspected gas leak was confined to Harold Yan’s offices…” Linda lowered the paper, her hair lurching forward as she addressed Cape across the table. “I thought you said he was shot?”
Cape shrugged.
“And that there wasn’t any gas.”
Another shrug.
Linda scowled and raised the paper, muttering under her breath. “The Chronicle never gets their facts straight.” Her hair nodded in silent agreement as she resumed reading. “…police later found Yan in his home with an unidentified female, both apparently the victim of foul play…blah, blah, blah…the mayor was quoted as saying ‘The city has lost a valued public servant, and I have lost a worthy opponent and good friend, unless it turns out he was a criminal, in which case I am shocked and deeply concerned…’”
Cape arched an eyebrow. “It didn’t say that.”
Linda held up a hand, calling for silence as she continued.
“…the mayor’s aides later denied any statement had been made, saying a press conference would be called tomorrow.
”
Linda lowered the paper just as their food arrived.
They were having dinner at one of the many restaurants with
Hunan
in the name, two doors down from Freddie Wang’s place. It was an understated restaurant with very little tourist traffic—most of the neighboring tables were filled with young Asian couples or families. Linda was surprised when Cape suggested it but didn’t object. She had an abiding passion for sizzling bean curd.
“I thought you’d had enough of Chinatown for one week.”
Cape broke his chopsticks apart and rubbed the splinters off them. “Just the underside of Chinatown, the part I never knew existed. This part,” he paused as he skewered a fried wonton, “
this
part I miss.”
Linda concentrated on her bean curd for a minute before looking up. “Thanks for telling me what happened.”
“Thanks for your help,” replied Cape. “Sorry the Sloth didn’t come.” His friend rarely ate out, eating so much slower than everyone else.
Linda nodded. “He’s counting on some leftovers, so try to restrain yourself.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Linda smiled, the lines around her eyes multiplying. After a moment, she said, “You left some things out, didn’t you?”
It was Cape’s turn to smile. “You always were a great reporter.”
“The messy parts?”
“Yeah,” said Cape, looking more serious now. “Very messy.”
Linda studied him. “You OK?”
“Ask me again in a week.”
They ate quietly for a while, the background chatter of the restaurant soothing, fits of laughter, snatches of happy voices, all sending a subliminal message that everything was normal again.
Linda broke the silence first, saying, “How’s Sally?”
“I can never tell, really,” said Cape. “And this was hard on her. She’s taking a few days off, going to visit some old acquaintances.”
“Really?” said Linda. “Where?”
“Hong Kong.”
***
Zhang Hui sat behind his desk, the only light coming from the small halogen next to the phone. It cast his face half in shadow, the left side pale, the right all but invisible. Both eyes were cavernous, the sockets dark pools, taking all of the light and giving none of it back. He raised his head idly as Xan stepped into the room and stood just beyond the shadows.
Hui asked, “Did you bring it?” His tone was casual, two old colleagues picking up where they left off.
“That’s what I said when I called.”
“So?”
“Your brother is dead.”
“So I heard,” Hui said indifferently.
“He was supposed to be dead ten years ago.”
“Was he?” asked Hui, leaning into the light.
Xan refused to be baited. “We were both here,
with your father
.”
The mention of his father got Hui standing, both hands on the desk.
“Don’t forget your place,
Master
Xan.”
“I never have.”
“Neither one of us is innocent.” Hui stood up straighter, his hands pressed in front of him.
“True,” said Xan. “I looked the other way when you killed your father, and I—”
“—tried to kill my brother,” said Hui.
“That’s not what I was going to say.”
“But it’s true,” replied Hui.
“Yes.” Xan looked into Hui’s eyes, wondering where the pupils were hiding.
“So how are we any different?”
Xan bit his tongue. “Who was killed ten years ago?” he asked. “Who died in the fire?”
“Does it matter?”
“I’m curious.”
“This trip to America has made you nostalgic, Xan.” Hui paced back and forth. “You’ve had ten years to ask this question.”
“Seeing your brother surprised me.”
“How did he die?”
“The first time or the second?”
“The first time was a
sze kau
,” said Hui testily. “A foot soldier assigned to guard the guest house. My brother killed him, then took his clothes and fled.”
“He killed one of our soldiers,” said Xan evenly. “One of
my
men.”
Hui scowled. “Men like that were deserting all the time. Did you miss him?”
Xan didn’t say anything for a minute. “You helped your brother?”
Hui stopped pacing. “Of course.”
“Your father would not have approved,” said Xan.
Hui gave a bitter laugh. “You think the old man was killed by poison darts because he
approved
?”
“He told you and Wen the combination to the cabinet.”
“We were his sons.”
“You’re ruthless.”
“Thank you.”
“And you changed the combination so he would trigger the darts.”
“Wen did that, as well,” said Hui. “My brother lacked charm, but he was always thinking.”
“And you sent the heart to him, so he could win his election?”
“Think of the possibilities, an alliance with the
mayor
of San Francisco.”
“It’s against our laws.”
Hui shrugged. “That’s why I told you it was stolen.”
“You tortured men to find it—our men,” said Xan. “And I helped you.”
“It had to be convincing,” said Hui with a note of pride. “Would you have gone after it?”
“You lied to me.”
“You sound surprised.”
“Then why send me to bring it back?”
Hui spoke as if talking to a child. “It was lost, you fool. It didn’t arrive on time.”
“So you saw an opportunity to settle an old score.”
Hui nodded. “I heard Dong was in San Francisco.” He smiled, delighted with his own genius. “I knew you would assume he’d stolen it and kill him—if, indeed, he had the heart.”
“He did.”
Hui’s eyebrows shot up, though his eyes were still too dark to see. “You killed Dong?”
“No.”
Hui’s hands slapped down on the desk. “Why not?”
Xan ignored the question. “Your brother betrayed the society.”
Hui waved his right hand dismissively. “Nonsense. He forged
alliances
, made us stronger.”
“I’m a soldier,” replied Xan. “I don’t deal in semantics.”
Hui studied Xan as if he had just walked in the room, a complete stranger. “I thought we had an understanding ten years ago that none of this—
none of this
—is personal. You were always stubborn but never naïve, Xan.”
Xan didn’t answer.
“What has changed?”
Xan shrugged. “Perhaps I have.”
“You…
change
?” Hui gave a short laugh and sat down. “I’ll die before that happens.”
“Perhaps you’re right.”
Hui narrowed his eyes, catching something in Xan’s tone he didn’t like.
“
Where is it
?” he asked impatiently. “Where is the heart of the dragon?”
“Right here.” Xan moved to one side.
Hui saw two legs step into the faint pool of light beyond the desk, right then left. Another step and the torso appeared. It was a woman. He couldn’t see the face, but a flash of light revealed the curved blade of a sword.
Hui glanced toward Xan but saw nothing but shadows. As he reached for the phone, Sally stepped into the light.
***
The taxi Linda had called was sitting at the curb.
Cape opened the passenger door and Linda stepped down from the sidewalk, resting her right hand along the top of the door. She turned toward Cape and asked, “You sure you want to walk?” He nodded and she ducked her head inside the cab, telling the driver to wait.
Linda stepped back onto the sidewalk and hugged Cape, her head against his chest, hair tickling his nose and almost making him sneeze. When she let go, he asked, “What was that for?”
Linda smiled as she got into the cab. “I’m glad you’re not dead.”
“Me, too.” Cape gave a quick wave as the taxi pulled away.
***
Xan reached into the dragon’s mouth and pulled its jaws apart.
The lid of the three-legged incense burner opened with a rasp of ancient hinges, the elaborately carved dragon’s face lifting to reveal the velvet-lined interior. The bronze legs seemed to twist and change position as Sally studied the carvings, coils and scales intertwining above clawed feet that bit into the wood of the desk. A dozen eyes watched as she slowly unwrapped the cloth around the heart.
The stone felt warm in her hands, as it had the first time she held it. The dragon that looked like a heart studied her, glowing red eyes daring her to steal the heart, keep it for herself. The bloodstone seemed to glow from within as Sally placed it carefully inside the bronze stand.
“Here’s your rock,” she said unceremoniously.
Xan sighed. “That rock saved your life.”
“I took a man’s life,” replied Sally. “That’s what saved mine.”
Xan closed the lid, the dragon’s mouth leering back at him.
He said, “You don’t believe in anything, do you?”
Sally smiled sadly. “That’s the difference between us.”
“What?”
“I believe in myself,” she said. “Not this.” She gestured toward the incense burner.
“This is tradition,” said Xan. “It is—”
“
Sin ka lan
,” said Sally. “Bullshit—it’s an excuse.”
“For what?”
“For not starting your life over again.”
Xan’s eyes narrowed, his scar twitched.
Sally asked, “How long since your family was murdered?” Xan’s face reddened, but Sally spoke again. “Killing other men for the Triad hasn’t brought them back. They’re as dead as my parents.”
Xan’s voice was as quiet as the grave. “Do not presume you know what’s in my heart, little dragon.”
Sally nodded in acknowledgment but didn’t back off. “Everything inside these walls was a lie, from the time I was a child. Nothing has changed.”
“Things could change now,” said Xan. “Zhang Hui is in hell, where he belongs. There will be an election.”
“You think Dong will come back?”
“Of course.”
“He had fled the tunnels when I got there,” said Sally. “He is a coward.”
“He is a survivor,” said Xan. “And he is not an animal, like Hui or Wen.”
“
Lay yow mow low gah
?” asked Sally.
Do you have a brain?
Xan clenched his teeth. “It could be different. You could come back.”
“You could leave, Xan.”
It sounded strange, even to her, saying his name without
Master
preceding it. Xan looked at Sally with a tired expression, the lines around his eyes deepening.
“You’ve grown up, little dragon.”
“I had to,” said Sally. “A long time ago. Maybe it’s time you did, too.”
Xan shook his head. “Where would I go? You don’t just leave—”
“I did.”
Xan frowned.
“You could be a teacher,” said Sally.
“I am now.”
“Someplace else.”
“Where?”
Sally gestured at the incense burner. “Where did that come from?”
Xan looked puzzled. “What?”
“The dragon’s heart,” said Sally. “Your precious relic. Didn’t it come from the five ancestors?”
“Yes, but—”
“Five Shao Lin monks.”
Xan nodded.
“Not criminals,” said Sally. “Not smugglers, bookmakers, or murderers.”
