Stealing the Dragon

Chapter Twenty-one

Hong Kong, 11 years ago

Xan leaned forward and stared at the two girls in disbelief, his thickly muscled forearms pressing against the edge of the table. It was three o’clock in the morning, and Jun and Sally had just returned to the compound.

“You stole his watch?”

Both girls nodded.

“And his wallet,” added Sally.

“And his passport,” said Jun.

“And his car,” they said in unison.

Xan’s scar jumped imperceptibly.

“Your assignment was to follow and observe,” he said slowly, hammering the last three words as if driving stakes into the ground.

“We did follow,” protested Sally.

“And observe,” added Jun.

“And then?” demanded Xan.

“We engaged,” came the reply, in stereo.

“On whose initiative?” demanded Xan.

Sally and Jun exchanged a glance and then pointed at each other. “Hers.”

Xan breathed deeply through his nose. “He is a senior official of a rival clan,” said Xan. “We could be exposed.”

Sally shook her head. “Not a chance,” she said definitively before catching herself. She nodded once out of respect and added, “I don’t think so, Master Xan.”

“And why not?”

Jun spoke next. “He thinks we’re prostitutes.”

Xan looked at the two teenagers before him as if noticing for the first time their short black dresses, hair, and makeup. Though Xan was still getting used to seeing this group of girls in a different light, scheduled trips into Hong Kong were a regular part of their training now. After all, you couldn’t blend in with your surroundings unless you had experienced them, if only while playing a role.

“Prostitutes,” Xan repeated.

“Underage prostitutes,” corrected Sally. “We told him we were only seventeen.”

“You’re only fifteen,” replied Xan. “Jun is seventeen.”

“That’s not the point,” said Sally, almost but not quite dismissively.

“And what is the point?” asked Xan, raising his eyebrows.

“He’s married,” said Sally.

“And he knew we were not yet eighteen,” added Jun.

“But he bought us drinks,” said Sally.

“Which we spilled when he wasn’t looking,” added Jun.

“But he drank.”

“And drank.”

“And drank.”

“Then he fell asleep.”

“Or passed out.”

“Then we took off.”

Both girls nodded, obviously pleased with themselves.

“So he won’t tell his wife because she would divorce him,” said Jun.

“And he won’t tell his mistress because she would kill him,” added Sally.

“And he won’t tell his associates because he would lose face for being so careless,” said Jun.

“So we were not exposed, Master Xan,” said Sally, a little more contrite this time. “We were very careful.”

Xan sighed again.

“This man was second to the pak tsz sin of another society,” he said. “He is an accountant and, as you have so clearly demonstrated tonight, he is a buffoon.”

Xan paused as he looked deliberately at each of the girls.

“But tell me,” he continued, “what would you have done if this man turned out to be something other than what he appeared to be? What if he did not drink? What if he had been a Red Pole or a sze kau who intended to capture you or inflict damage on our clan in some way?”

Both girls leaned forward in their chairs, but Sally answered first.

“I would have killed him,” she said simply.

Xan met Sally’s gaze, her bright eyes almost unnaturally green, her pupils dark and wide. In that instant it seemed as if the young girl in front of him was older than Xan himself. Somewhere in the dark undercurrents of her eyes swam a vengeance unfettered by the shackles of remorse. Those eyes could kill a man, he thought.

Xan looked at Sally for a long moment before saying anything.

“As you say, little dragon.” Then he turned to Jun and nodded.

“Leave us.”

Jun stood and bowed, shooting a quick glance at Sally.

Once Jun had closed the door, Sally turned back to Xan.

“Am I in trouble?”

Xan shook his head. “This does not concern Jun.”

Sally nodded her understanding, even though she suddenly felt anxious. She was usually paired with another girl, and almost always it was Jun. They were roommates. They trained together, ate together. Sally wondered what could possibly concern her and not Jun.

“Sally, do you know why all of your instructors are men?” asked Xan.

“We have many female instructors.”

Xan nodded. “Of course,” he said quickly. “For language training and music.”

“And acting,” said Sally. “And math and science.”

“Yes,” agreed Xan. “I wasn’t thinking of your morning classes.”

Sally understood. “You mean our instructors for the martial arts.”

Xan nodded but remained silent. Sally thought for a moment before answering.

“We used to have female instructors,” she began, trying to remember when she had stopped sparring against women. “Until I was twelve.”

Again Xan nodded. “When you were no longer a girl.”

Sally knew what he meant, though she still thought of herself as a girl. But that was the year she first got her period, and also the year she was sent into Hong Kong by herself.

“‘If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles.’” Xan spoke in a voice that suggested to Sally he was quoting from something. Probably from The Art of War. No matter what class you were taking, the instructors were always throwing Sun Tzu in your face. The girls often joked that without Sun Tzu, they wouldn’t have any homework.

Xan saw the look on Sally’s face and pressed on. “The clan is a male organization,” he explained. “Much like the other societies. White Lotus, Heaven and Earth, Phoenix and Dragon. They are all run and staffed by men.”

“I understand,” said Sally tentatively.

“Naturally, this makes them suspicious of other men,” said Xan. “To penetrate another organization, therefore, we must sometimes use cunning.”

“‘Attack him where he is unprepared, appear where you are not expected,’” said Sally confidently. “Sun Tzu.”

Xan smiled. “Well said, little dragon. There is no mystery, then, as to why you are here.”

“No, Master Xan,” replied Sally. “None.”

A life without mystery, thought Xan, studying Sally for the second time that night. Such a life begins here.

“Very well,” he said, as if to himself. Reaching behind him, Xan produced a folder of heavy brown paper, its texture and weight suggesting it had been handmade. Sally had seen folders like it before, always containing photographs and backgrounds of men she was supposed to follow in the city.

“The shan chu wanted me to give you this,” Xan said simply, sliding the folder in front of Sally.

Sally looked up from the folder. The shan chu was the head of the school. No, the head of the clan. The Master of the Mountain. The Dragon Head.

Sally knew she wasn’t going to just follow a man around Hong Kong. This was something more important. She opened the folder, not sure what to expect.

The first thing she saw was a photograph, black and white, taken with a long lens. The man in the picture looked Japanese. He was standing next to a white delivery truck on a busy city street with a cigarette in his right hand, his eyes screwed up against the smoke. Sally guessed he was maybe forty-five. Even from a distance, his features looked coarse and unfriendly. Sally was about to look at the rest of the file when she felt a sudden and unexpected revulsion.

“Who is he?” she asked, looking up to find Xan staring at her with an odd expression on his face. If she didn’t know him so well, she would have sworn it was one of concern.

Though their eyes were locked, Xan seemed to be looking somewhere far away when he finally answered.

“Little dragon, he is the man who killed your parents.”