Stealing the Dragon

Chapter Forty-two

San Francisco, present day

The address on the card wasn’t on a map, and Cape knew better than to ask around Chinatown for directions. He’d followed the street numbers to a dead end and assumed at first it reemerged a few blocks later, like so many streets in San Francisco that disappeared into hills or landmarks and showed up a mile away.

But that would take him out of Chinatown, which didn’t make sense, so fifteen minutes later he found himself back at the end of an alley, looking at empty boxes, broken vegetable crates, and shadows, wondering when the genie was going to appear and tell him the secret word.

The alley was half a block deep, with a grocery and tobacco shop flanking either side of the entrance, but the stores and the cross street seemed a world away. This far back, all Cape could hear was the wind and maybe the scuttling sound of a rat eating its way through the trash.

It was a rat. Pulling a pocket Maglite, Cape shone the light along the brick walls on either side, careful to keep the beam tight and his body between the light and the street. As it passed over a wooden crate, two red eyes glared back, followed by a rustling glimpse of a long tail. Based on the spacing of the eyes and the length of the hairless tail, Cape figured the rat must outweigh him by about forty pounds. He focused the light on the ground as he stepped forward gingerly.

This was starting to look like a dead end. Cape considered turning around when he saw it: a manhole cover, the grated kind, set into the corner of the alley. Shining the light through the top, he saw a ladder running down the side, disappearing into the darkness.

Panning the light over the nearest wall, Cape saw a blood red triangle etched into one of the bricks. Squatting down, he put his thumb in the center of the triangle and pushed.

He jumped as the manhole cover swung open with a muffled clang.

You’ve got to be kidding.

Turning off the flashlight, Cape lowered himself down the ladder, feeling for the rungs with his sneakers as he gripped the cold metal bars. His instinct was to make as little noise as possible, though he suspected an alarm had sounded somewhere once he triggered the trap door.

Fifteen feet down the hole, the darkness softened to a gray haze. Twenty feet down he could see the floor, light spilling into the tunnel. Thirty feet and he touched bottom, almost blinded by the sudden glare coming from an opening on his left. Blinking, Cape looked into another world.

Colored lanterns hung from the stone ceiling, brick walls were adorned with tapestries in muted reds and golds, and the cloying smell of incense permeated the air. Sofas, chairs, and cushions of different periods and styles crowded the small space, along with the occasional sculpture or desk, making it impossible to take in the entire room at once. Thick carpets had been piled on the stone floor, sometimes layered, giving Cape the feeling that the floor undulated beneath his feet. Toward the back of the chamber, the light dimmed, but Cape could see another tunnel leading off to the right, no doubt connected to other chambers and more holes cut beneath the city. A low grinding sound emanated from the center of the room, like a ball bearing rolling across a sheet of glass.

Taking a deep breath, Cape stepped forward.

Two sets of hands grabbed him from each side, pulling him forward gently. He let himself be frisked, surprised at the soft touch. These guards were a cut above Freddie Wang’s goons. As his eyes adjusted, he saw two men dressed in suits, Chinese in their midthirties, moving in an efficient, practiced manner as they checked him for weapons. Both released him at the same time, returning to their positions by the entrance. The one on the right nodded at Cape politely before pointing over his shoulder, indicating he should keep going.

Stepping around a folding screen, Cape stopped short as he came upon a man sitting behind a large desk. Next to him on a small tray was a silver tea service, steam coming from the pot. The man’s face was in shadow, his arms spread as he rolled a white marble back and forth across the desk. The grinding sound rose and fell as the marble spun from hand to hand.

“You’re late, old chap.”

The man raised his head and Cape’s eyes went wide, causing the man to chuckle softly. Smiling, he tilted his head back, letting the light spill across his face as his right hand came down and trapped the marble in his palm.

Gray-black hair sprouted from a high forehead, pulled back in a ponytail behind ears that looked two sizes too big. Deep lines ran from his forehead down his cheeks, underscoring his smile. His right brow arched over a dark brown eye as he returned Cape’s stare. His left eye, however, was missing.

A ragged black hole flanked by scar tissue marked the missing orb, and Cape found his eyes drawn morbidly to that side of the man’s face.

“Sorry,” said the man pleasantly. “Just need to clean it.” Bringing his right hand up, he popped the marble into his mouth and rolled it around like a gumball before spitting it back into his hand. Pulling his ravaged eyelid up with his left hand, he popped the marble into the hole with his right, jabbing himself with his index finger until it settled. Cape now found himself looking at a man with two brown eyes, the left only slightly askew.

“Gets distracting, doesn’t it?”

Cape nodded, temporarily mute.

“So you’re Cape, then?”

Cape nodded, pulling his gaze toward the one working eye.

“And you must be the white rabbit.”

The man behind the desk laughed. “I knew I’d like you,” he said amiably. “One-eyed Dong, at your service.”

“Guess I don’t have to ask how you got your name,” said Cape.

“Fondue accident,” replied Dong. “Least that’s what I told me mum. But your name-can’t say I’ve ever met anyone named Cape before.”

“It’s short for capricious.”

Dong laughed again.

“So you obviously know all about me,” said Cape, pulling out one of the desk chairs. “How ’bout I ask some questions?”

Dong bowed his head. “By all means.”

“Where are you from?” asked Cape. “Your English…?”

“It’s the Queen’s English, not mine.”

“That’s what I was wondering.”

“Wonderful schools in Hong Kong,” said Dong. “Used to be a British colony, you know.”

Cape nodded, thinking of the red triangle. “The Heaven and Earth Society?”

Dong smiled, his right eye glittering. “The Black Society, Heaven and Earth, White Lotus. There are so many names.”

“But all Triads.”

“Just so.” Dong nodded.

“Where do you fit in?”

“I don’t,” replied Dong, his tone suddenly flat. “Not anymore.”

Cape waited.

“I was heung chu,” said Dong, pride in his voice. “Incense Master for one of the most powerful Triads in Hong Kong. And I was going to be elevated to fu shan chu-deputy to the Dragon Head.”

“What happened?”

“I was betrayed,” replied Dong. “Along with the entire clan. The Dragon Head I served was murdered, his position usurped.” Dong took a deep breath as if trying to control his temper. “I could either flee or be murdered in my sleep-I chose to live underground.”

“Literally,” said Cape, looking around.

“Indeed.” Dong followed Cape’s gaze, his good eye drifting out of focus as he contemplated his surroundings. “After the 1906 earthquake, they built tunnels connecting many of the basements in Chinatown so residents could escape even if their buildings collapsed.” He turned his gaze back to Cape. “I’ve only been in San Francisco a short while but studied the city before I came. One of the disadvantages of my current existence is the need to keep moving.”

“I like what you’ve done with the place,” said Cape. “But why did you invite me here?”

“And here I was beginning to think you were so bright.” Dong shook his head sadly. “My dear boy, I just wanted to see if I could trust you,” he said. “But I didn’t invite you anywhere.”

Cape shifted in his chair and fingered the card in his pocket. “Then who did?”

Before Dong could answer Cape saw movement in the back of the chamber. As he stood, he saw the boy with the orange hair come out of the side tunnel, the one who had given Cape the card. A sullen expression was on his face, eyes narrowed, crooked teeth making his mouth seem too small for his face, his narrow shoulders lost inside a loose jacket covered with pockets and zippers. Cape squinted in the dim light as he approached.

The boy stood behind Dong and smiled, incisors and cuspids jutting out at crazy angles. Then he stepped to the side, took a deep breath, and spit his teeth onto the floor at Cape’s feet. Before Cape could react, the boy reached up and tore off his nose, flinging it across the room.

The wig came off last, dark hair falling around the shoulders, obscuring the face as it shook back and forth. When the head came up, green eyes met Cape’s stare, framing a perfect nose dotted with freckles.

Sally smiled broadly as his jaw hit the floor.

“Miss me?”