Stealing the Dragon

Chapter Fifty-three

One-eyed Dong never claimed to be a brave man, and though he’d count himself smarter than most, he considered his real strength to be self-awareness. He knew he could never adapt to the new Dragon Head, so he left. Well, he fled, but that’s only because he couldn’t trust the bastard not to kill him. Dong was as mercenary as anyone else, even if he did have better table manners, and the Dragon Head couldn’t risk him jumping to a rival clan.

Zhang Hong, the previous Dragon Head, had lasted a long time, as respected and trusted as a career criminal could be-bold, visionary, and undeniably ruthless, but still fair in his own way. He honored his ancestors and kept to the code. But his son, Zhang Hui, was a bloody shark. Dong had no doubt Hui had killed his father to become Dragon Head. He suspected Hui would knock off his own mum if there was profit in it.

His only hope was to keep moving long enough for Hui’s greed to be his undoing. But sitting in a tunnel beneath a strange city, Dong wondered if even he had the patience to wait that long, or if his desperate circumstances would force him to act. He was running out of cities, and his chances were getting worse the closer he came to being cornered. He rolled his glass eyeball back and forth, letting the noise lull him into a trance where time and distant enemies held no sway.

Footsteps broke his reverie. Shen, the taller of his two guards, was approaching the desk. Shen and the other guard, Lok, were brothers whom Dong had rescued from abject poverty by recruiting them into the Triad. Fearless young men with flexible moral constitutions were always in demand, so Dong made arrangements to have money sent to the boys’ family every month. They were fiercely loyal and had risked everything by coming along on his self-imposed exile.

Lok’s name meant happy, and he certainly was, even in this cluttered, damp basement that had become their base of operations. Shen’s name meant deep-thinking, but tragically he was as dumb as a dish of soap.

Dong popped his eye back in and waited patiently for Shen to speak. After a minute of looking hopefully at the eager young man, Dong exhaled loudly and made the first move.

“Yes?”

“A package was delivered.”

“Where?” asked Dong. He hadn’t heard the trap door, and Lok had moved to guard the rear tunnel.

“At the opening of the south tunnel. Lok went out to buy more food at the grocery that stays open all night, just a few blocks away. I disabled the trap door and covered for him. He found the box ten feet inside the tunnel, where it opens near Stockton Street.”

“And?”

“I have the package.”

Here we go, thought Dong. “And?”

“I opened it.”

“And?”

“I thought you’d want to know what was inside.”

“What?”

“I said, I thought you’d want to know what was inside the package.”

Dong blew out his cheeks. “What was inside?”

“A note,” replied Shen. “And…something else.”

Dong decided he wasn’t a patient man, after all.

“Just give it to me,” he said tersely.

“I don’t have it.”

“Where is it?”

“Lok has it.”

“Of course.” Dong pressed his palms against the desk and stood up, turning toward the back of the chamber. Shen followed two steps behind.

Lok stood maybe twenty feet down the tunnel, behind a metal grate with a door set into it. On his belt was a flashlight, and over one shoulder was a sword. Over his other shoulder was a Heckler amp; Koch MP5 submachine gun.

“Lok!” Dong’s voice echoed down the tunnel.

Lok turned, smiling. He was always smiling, as long as Dong could remember. At first Dong assumed it was gratitude for being plucked from the Hong Kong slums, but now he suspected Lok suffered from the same cranial confinement as his brother.

“The box?”

Lok nodded and extended his right hand, palm up. It was a small cardboard box, the kind where the top slides over the bottom, the size that might hold business cards. Dong took it from Lok, who was still beaming, and held tight to the lid with his left hand, pulling the bottom down slowly with his right. The lid came off with a small popping sound.

Dong stared inside the box for a full minute before putting the lid back. His hands were shaking.

“We’re leaving,” he said, looking from Lok to Shen.

The two brothers looked at him and then at each other. “When?” They asked in unison.

“Immediately,” replied Dong. “Bring only what’s necessary. I will bring the heart.”

“What about the woman?” asked Shen.

“What about the gwai loh?” asked Lok.

“I’m fine, thanks.”

The three men jumped as the voice echoed down the tunnel, Dong almost dropping the box. Lok clicked on a flashlight to reveal Sally and Cape moving toward them, Cape holding Xan’s legs, Sally with her arms around his torso.

Dong waved awkwardly. “We were just-”

“Turning around,” said Sally, disgust in her voice. “Open the door.” She looked pointedly at Dong as Lok complied. She and Cape pushed past them and stutter-stepped to the nearest couch, where they deposited the still-unconscious Xan.

Dong’s face registered shock at seeing Xan, but Sally didn’t give him a chance to say anything. “A suspicious person might think you were about to steal the heart.”

Dong’s good eye narrowed as he stepped forward and handed her the box. “You insult me too easily,” he said quietly. “In another life, you would have worked for me.”

“I left that life behind for a reason,” said Sally. “In your world, people can only be trusted one moment at a time.” She broke eye contact with Dong and opened the box. Her jaw set as Cape stepped beside her.

A finger lay at the bottom of the box, severed just below the third knuckle. It was a woman’s finger, judging by the tapering and the nail, and Cape was pretty sure it was the pinky from the left hand. He had no doubt where it had come from.

Beneath the finger was a note written in Chinese, blood spotting the paper. Sally pulled the paper out of the box and read it aloud in English. “Bring the heart or I will send you hers,” she said in a monotone, then turned to Cape. “What time is it?”

Cape held up his watch. “Almost three in the morning.”

“We don’t have much time.” Sally put the paper back in the box and closed the lid.

“Where?” asked Cape.

“Ross Alley,” replied Sally. “The bakery.”

Cape nodded. “It’s Monday morning, isn’t it?” he said. “They’re closed Mondays.”

Sally looked at Dong. “Naturally, he doesn’t want to meet at his office or his home.”

Dong’s face was grim. “Lin’s already dead, little dragon,” he said, his voice barely audible. “You of all people must know this.”

“That why you were leaving?” asked Cape.

Dong waved his hand impatiently. “He knows about the south tunnel,” he said. “We’re sitting ducks.”

Sally shook her head. “He won’t come here-he doesn’t know what’s down here. If he was coming to us, he’d be here by now.”

“I can’t take that chance.”

Sally looked at Dong and smiled briefly, then stepped intimately close and whispered, “Yes, you can.” When Sally stepped away, Cape caught a glimpse of her eyes and was very glad he wasn’t standing in Dong’s shoes.

Sally turned her back on Dong and walked over to the couch.

Cape took his cell phone from his pocket and checked the screen. It had rung twice on the way over, but dropping Xan to answer the phone, though tempting, didn’t seem like an idea.

2 missed calls. 1 voice message. No signal.

It would have to wait.

He moved toward the couch as Sally leaned over Xan. Taking a new length of rope, she bound Xan’s wrists, ran the rope around his ankles, then brought the rope over the back of the couch and across his throat. He’d choke with every swing of an arm or kick of his legs.

“This guy that dangerous?” asked Cape.

“He trained me.”

“You sure one rope’s enough?” asked Cape. “Maybe we should drop an anvil on his head, or a safe.”

Sally ignored him. Cupping Xan’s neck in her right hand, she tensed her fingers and squeezed where the neck met the skull, then set her left hand under his chin and twisted violently, stopping the motion after just a few inches.

Cape grimaced. “I had a chiropractor do that once.”

Sally nodded but kept her eyes on Xan. “It’s the same basic movement. If I keep going, it would break his neck.” She released Xan’s head and took a step back from the couch, then started counting just under her breath.

“Five…four…three…”