Stealing the Dragon

Chapter Fifty-one

Harold Yan looked worried.

“Drink this,” he said as he handed a mug to Lin. “It tastes bitter, but it will help the healing process.”

“Mh goi.” Lin winced as she extended her arms but nodded her thanks.

“That shoulder looks bad,” muttered Yan. “You didn’t go to a hospital?”

“No,” said Lin.

“Smart girl,” said Yan approvingly. “The hospital has to report gunshot wounds to the police.”

Lin nodded as she blew into her mug, the steam making her eyes water. “The bullet passed right through.”

“You’re very brave.”

Lin forced a smile before sipping tentatively. He was right, the drink tasted awful. She hated this, sitting in Yan’s house, the front room that doubled as a home office, trying to explain herself without telling him what really happened. She didn’t even know Yan, beyond what she’d been told. A true friend, someone we can trust. She tried to think of someone she could really trust and came up empty, save for a dead sister she only remembered from pictures.

Yan looked nice enough, professional, well-mannered. Comparing him to men she’d known, he seemed more like the Dragon Head or a businessman than the thugs and killers she usually hunted. Not anything like the sze kau pigs on the ship. He already asked her about that, something in his voice warning her to stretch the truth. She said someone tried to steal the heart-that shut him up, got Yan saying wait one minute, then going to the next room for tea. Lin suspected he didn’t care about the women and children in the hold any more than the crew, so there was no point trying to explain. Lin knew how to follow orders-she’d made the trip, didn’t she? — but how she completed an assignment was up to her.

“I have a few more questions, if you don’t mind,” said Yan pleasantly. “I’ll keep it short tonight-I know you’re still weak.”

Lin nodded, clenching her jaw. She was weak, a feeling new to her. She’d never been injured this badly in all her years of service, but now she could barely stand without seeing spots. Yan had her sitting in a high-backed chair with wooden arms, something she could hold onto as she drank her tea. Her shoulder burned, the bandages still wet with blood. It had taken her almost two hours to find this house, on the border of Chinatown and North Beach, an old two-story Victorian in the middle of a short, twisted road that was more alley than street. She never could have found it that first night, half dead and soaking wet. If Sally hadn’t been home, Lin knew she’d be dead.

But then she woke up underground, betrayed. One-eyed Dong had been exiled, a price on his head. Sally hadn’t left the society, after all-she must be part of the conspiracy to steal the heart. Lin cursed her lack of strength, unable to risk anything except running away. But at least she was alive and free, able to tell Yan where it was.

Now they just had to get it.

Yan stepped around his desk and sat on its edge, only a few feet in front of her.

“Do you know why you’re here?” he asked idly. “What did the Dragon Head tell you?”

“Lung tau gave me the heart,” Lin began.

“But you knew he would tell people you stole it?”

Lin nodded. “He explained there are traitors within our society, planning to steal the heart and kill him.”

“But he couldn’t hide it.”

“No,” said Lin, shaking her head emphatically. “If he moved the heart himself, it would be an act of fear, a sign of weakness. His enemies would gain support.”

“So he stole the heart from himself,” said Yan. “Brilliant.”

“He said to tell you everything,” said Lin. “But no one else knows, not even Master Xan.”

“Your…” Yan paused, searching for the word. “Instructor.”

Lin nodded again. “The Dragon Head told Xan there was a situation in China that needed attention, and he requested that Xan send me-to Fuzhou.”

“Where you caught the freighter.”

“Yes,” said Lin. “He gave me the heart, wrapped in cloth so I could hide it in my clothes, then explained how to board the ship.” She sipped more tea, which tasted less bitter the more she drank. She could feel herself starting to relax, her shoulder less painful. Her eyes felt heavy, hands tingling, legs almost going numb. She blinked as Yan watched her, his eyes full of concern.

Yan stood and looked down at her cup. “It’s helping, isn’t it?” He smiled though his eyes had gone flat, expressionless. Stepping behind Lin’s chair, he put his left hand gently on her shoulder. “Yes, you are very brave,” he said admiringly.

Lin started to respond but gasped as Yan dug his fingers into her shoulder.

“But very stupid.” Yan’s voice was pure disdain as he twisted his thumb savagely against her bandages. Liquid fire ran down her arm and Lin dropped the tea in her lap, but she couldn’t feel it against her skin. Her legs were completely numb. Yan seized the back of the chair with both hands and pulled, slamming Lin onto her back, stars exploding behind her eyes. She started to hyperventilate as the numbness in her legs crept across her stomach toward her heart.

“You had the most powerful weapon in Triad history,” seethed Yan, stepping in front of the chair. “And you lost it.”

Lin watched, helpless, as Yan raised his right foot and brought it down slowly onto her shoulder. The numbing poison had made it to her chest, squeezing the air out of her lungs, but it left the nerve endings in her shoulder raw and exposed. The heel of his shoe pressed down, Lin’s head twisting back and forth on the rug as she tried to scream, managing only a strangled cough as tears ran down her cheeks.

“But you’re still of some use, and with your help, perhaps I can get the heart back.” Yan’s eyes shone with a fanatic’s zeal. Lin stared, wheezing and thrashing, as Yan reached behind his back and tugged at his belt. The room was getting dark, and Lin realized she was blacking out.

That’s when she saw the knife.