The dot grew larger and more detailed. Ted knew what it was before the camera stopped zooming.
“It’s a drone,” Ted snapped. “We're under surveillance.”
Matheson gave Royce a puzzled look. “By who?”
Royce stood up and drew a Glock 19 pistol from a holster at his belt. “Doesn’t matter. Get the package down here, we’re leaving now.” He picked up a walkie from the table and thumbed the talk button. “We are blown, repeat, we are blown. Everyone drop your shit and get to the barn, before—”
CRASH!
The front door splintered and flew open. Royce spun around and raised his weapon. Before he could fire, a tiny metal cylinder flew through the air and rolled across the floor.
Ted dove under the table and covered his ears. The cylinder exploded. A brilliant white flash filled the air. Even with his eyes closed, the light was blinding. A split-second later, the massive shockwave assaulted his ear drums. As the ringing grew louder, he opened his eyes. Dark shapes swept through the smoke-filled room.
He saw the muzzle flash of automatic weapons. Long plumes of orange fire pierced the smoke-filled air. The gunfire was silent to his ears. The only sound he could hear was the high-pitched ringing, growing louder and louder.
He stumbled out from under the table, dropped to his knees, and clasped his hands over his head. He prayed that it was Rebecca and her Special Operations Group who had tracked him here. If that was the case, he might survive.
And if it was option number two?
Well, in that case, welcome to Vegas, buddy. Because you’ve just been cashed out.
Chapter Thirty
It was dark when Caine woke. He could tell by Sean’s rhythmic, loud breathing that the younger man was still asleep. Caine stood up and dressed. The two of them had slept in the living room, in the front of the house. Jia had shared the child’s room, and Alton was in Tiao and Guan-yin’s bedroom.
Caine’s muscles ached from spending the night on the hard, cold wood floor. Still, he had to admit, it was far from the most uncomfortable place he had ever slept. He took a few minutes to stretch and listened for any signs of movement in the house. He heard nothing. Everyone else was still asleep.
Sean was sleeping on a threadbare sofa that ran along the front wall of the house. Caine reached over and shook him. The younger man awoke with a start. He gasped, and Caine covered his mouth to prevent him from crying out. Sean’s eyes adjusted to the dim light, and he relaxed when he saw Caine’s face staring down at him. Caine removed his hand.
“Jesus, you scared the hell out of me, man,” Sean whispered. “I think I was having a nightmare or something.”
“I’m not surprised. Keep your voice down.”
Sean sat up on the sofa and fished around for his t-shirt. He sniffed the filthy, worn garment and grunted. “Damn, this thing smells like road kill. We need some new clothes.”
“We’ll have to worry about that later. Maybe we can pick something up in Shanghai. Now get dressed, and meet me outside. Be quiet, I don’t want to wake anyone.”
Caine walked into the kitchen as Sean gathered the rest of his clothes in the living room. He heard the door open, and a gentle breeze drifted through the house. It carried the acidic, bitter taste of the air outside. Then the door closed as Sean slid outside.
Caine stood still for a few seconds, letting his eyes continue to adjust to the light. He remembered seeing Taio hang the keys to the pickup truck on a hook near the stove. He felt along the walls next to the now cool stove, until the keychain jingled beneath his fingers. He paused and thought for a moment. Stealing a car from Alton’s family hadn’t exactly been his original plan.
Plans change. Don’t make it personal. Keep moving.
He snatched the keys up in his hand and left the kitchen.
Outside, the wind was beginning to pick up again. A sliver of orange light rose above the horizon. It peered out between the towering smokestacks and black clouds of the Fang factory. The industrial pipes and buildings of the complex stood silhouetted against the rising sun. Their black, twisted shapes looked like the skeletal remains of some ancient beast.
Sean was standing next to the car, surveying the small, silent town. He turned and looked at Caine. “So now we’re car thieves?”
“If you’ve got a better way to get to Shanghai, I’m all ears.”
Sean shook his head.
Caine walked over to the car. “That’s what I thought.”
He heard the door to the house open. He spun around, his hand instinctively dropping to his waist.
It was Jia. She stood in the doorway, dressed in a long t-shirt that fell just below her knees. Her hair was pulled back in a thick ponytail. It trailed behind her in the wind as she stepped off the porch.
Her liquid brown eyes searched Caine’s face. “You are leaving, aren’t you?” she asked. Her voice was almost lost in the wind.
“Sean, get in the car,” Caine said.
“Sorry, Jia,” Sean mumbled as he opened the passenger door and slid into the seat. He closed the door with a soft thunk.
Caine took a step towards her. “Look, Jia, I’m sorry, but it’s too dangerous. We can’t stay here.”
“I understand. I just thought …”
She moved closer to him and put a hand on his chest. The wind whipped through her t-shirt, plastering the thin fabric to her body.
“I thought that night, in Beijing, there was something there. I thought you would at least say goodbye.”
“It’s safer this way,” Caine said. “The more time you spend with us, with me … the more danger you’ll be in. Please, trust me. The less you know about all this, the better.”
She nodded. “I understand. The work I do, the things I fight for … here, in China, it can be dangerous. I take risks as well. That night at dinner, you called me brave. But sometimes, it’s the ones we care about most who pay the price for our bravery.”
A shiver ran through her body. Caine fought the urge to embrace her, to wrap his arms around her. “You’re right,” he said. “I’ve seen it firsthand. Too many times to count.”
Jia lifted her chin and stared up at him. One of her hands moved up to his face. Her fingers traced the hard line of his jaw, then pressed into his stubble-covered cheek.
“It makes it hard to live a normal live,” she said. “Hard to get close to anyone.”
Her eyes were so close, he felt like the twin pools of brown and black filled his vision; they were all he could see. Then her eyes closed, and her lips touched his.
He was surprised to find himself kissing her back. It was brief, just a moment of skin touching skin. But he felt her lingering touch after he broke away, tingling across his lips and flushed skin.
“Zhu weishou de shagua,” she whispered into his ear as her face drifted away from his.
Caine smiled. “You never told me what that means.”
She laughed. Then she turned and walked towards the house. As she opened the door, she looked back at him over her shoulder. “I’ll tell you later.”
Then the door closed, and she was gone. Caine stood still for a minute, letting the wind carry the scent of her away, along with the memory of her touch. The electric shock of her lips faded.
It was time to go.
Caine opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat. Sean struggled to wipe the grin off his face.
“Hey man, you need a few minutes? If you want to go back in there, no worries,” he said.
Caine gave him a sideways glance as he started up the truck and shifted into drive. “What about this super important thing you have to do in Shanghai?”
“Man’s got to have his priorities, know what I mean?”
Caine shook his head and pulled away from the house.
“Kid, you’re an international fugitive. Plus, you're marked for death by the Triads and the NSA. Maybe you should re-examine your priorities.”
Sean laughed. “That’s cold, man. Cold.”
The
y pulled away from the house. The crumbling buildings and polluted waters of Huagu disappeared in their rearview mirror. As they drove down the long, empty road, everything behind them was lost in the dust and the hazy glow of the rising sun.
Chapter Thirty-One
Fang paced down the sterile corridor at a rapid clip. Doctor Song kept up beside him, her heels clicking on the glossy white floor. Her attention was focused on the tablet she held in her slim hands. Medical charts and data flashed across the glowing screen.
“These are excellent results, Mr. Fang. Hormone and blood cell counts are far better than we could have hoped for a woman of her age, and in her condition.”
“She doesn’t look good,” Fang snapped. “When I look at her, do you know what I see?”
“I don’t understand what you mean.”
“I see a corpse. She is dying.”
“Yes, she is,” Doctor Song said in her flat, matter-of-fact voice. “As I told you, transplanting the cancerous organ is a delaying tactic at best. It is not a long-term strategy.”
“And I told you, Doctor, I want results! What exactly is your strategy then?”
“Assuming her recovery continues at this pace, we can accelerate the next phase of treatment. The clinic recently installed a Mevion Proton Therapy system. It’s the most advanced form of radiation therapy available. Only a select few hospitals have access to such a device.”
“She’s undergone radiation before; what makes this any different?” Fang asked
Doctor Song tapped the tablet, bringing up a presentation video for the device. She held the tablet up for him to see as they walked.
“The machine uses a miniaturized particle accelerator to increase the energy level of protons. The beam of radiation is much more controlled. We can direct it to a specific depth in the target body. This allows us to target her tumors, while causing much less damage to healthy tissue.”
Fang pushed the tablet away. They reached the door to his mother’s room and stopped. “How soon can you begin the treatment?” he asked, lowering his voice.
Doctor Song consulted her charts, then looked up at him. “She must have time to heal from her surgery first. Normal recovery for a transplant such as this would be three weeks. However due to the successful HBO treatment, I believe we can shorten that to two.”
“Two weeks? What if her condition worsens before then?” Fang leaned towards the doctor. His eyes were two black dots of concentrated anger, and his mouth curled into a snarl. “I tell you, she does not look better. She looks worse. I warned you what would happen if she does not survive this treatment.”
A look of fear shimmered across Dr. Song’s porcelain features. An instant later, it was replaced by her usual calm stare.
“Mr. Fang … your mother is elderly. Her body is being ravaged by two different forms of cancer. And she has survived more surgical procedures than most women half her age. Thanks to you, this clinic is the most advanced cancer treatment facility in the world. If she were anywhere else, she would be dead by now.”
The rage in Fang’s face intensified. He gripped her arm tighter, twisting his fingers into the fabric of her white lab coat.
Then he exhaled. The anger and fury seemed to drain from his handsome features. They were replaced by a look of bewilderment and confusion. He looked away from the doctor, staring at the door next to them. More medical charts flashed across the screens mounted to its polished metal surface.
“You’re right of course. I just … I wanted to—”
Doctor Song pulled her arm from his grip. “What do you think is going to happen here, Mr. Fang? What is it you want for your mother? Because as a doctor, I must tell you … no matter what we do, her time is limited.”
Fang looked at the doctor and gave her a sheepish grin. “What do I want for her? Immortality, of course.” He uttered a quiet, bitter laugh. “What else?”
The doctor lowered her chin and looked at him over the rim of her glasses. Her dark, almond-shaped eyes scrutinized him, trying to see if he was joking. “Duibuqi,” she said, her voice still calm, but somehow softer. “I am sorry. I cannot give her that. No doctor can.”
Fang nodded. His face hardened, and his eyes once again burned with intensity. “Very well. For now, she must live. Do whatever you have to.”
“Dangran,” she said. “Wo hui jin wo suo neng. I will do my best.”
She strode off down the hall, the clicking of her heels growing fainter as she left him. He opened the door and walked into his mother’s suite.
He forced a cheery smile onto his face, and waved. “Muqin! Good morning … How are you feeling today?”
He walked over to his mother’s bed. The old woman had been removed from the hyperbaric tube. Her withered body lay beneath the crisp white sheets of her adjustable bed. A small bank of electronics surrounded her. The equipment monitored her vital signs. Computers adjusted her medication drips. Pumps forced oxygen into her lungs through a tube in her throat.
Fang’s smile beamed down on the old woman, but his eyes darted over the tubes with concern. They seemed to be everywhere … sprouting from her arms, her chest, and running beneath the sheets to God knew where. Each time he saw her, it seemed more ghastly devices were attached to her body.
Fang’s mother turned her head, and her eyes parted a fraction of an inch. The two dark slits stared at him.
“Wo de erzi,” she rasped, her voice a hoarse whisper. “My son … Where are your brothers?”
Fang sighed. “They are not here, muqin. They are busy, working for me. Preparing for our day of triumph.”
The old woman stared at him through her slit eyes. “Do not lie to me, my son. I know your heart as well as I know my own.”
Fang looked down at the floor, then back up her. His smile faded, and his eyes filled with concern. “Forgive me, I did not want to disturb you.”
“They are dead, aren’t they?” she croaked.
He nodded. “Yes. They sacrificed themselves for me. For this family. Very soon now, I will ascend. I will become Dragon Father of the Lu Long. Our family will have power, money, and influence beyond our wildest dreams. We will get you the best treatment, the most advanced medicine. Nothing will—”
“David, I have already had all the treatment I can stand. This life … it has become a curse.”
Her hand fumbled at her side. She struggled to reach out to him. Fang grabbed her hand and cradled it in his own.
“My boys … my beautiful boys. Gone.” A tear slipped from the thin sliver of her open eye.
“My brothers were born … different,” Fang whispered. “They were symbols of the pain and injustice that was inflicted upon you, and Father. But they proved their worth in the end. They gave their lives, so that we may prosper.”
“Your brothers were a blessing," the woman hissed. "Their hearts were pure, they were kind, gentle spirits. It was you who introduced them to the gangs. You who turned them into dashou … thugs and killers.”
Fang felt her hand tug away from him. He let go, and it slipped back down onto the bed. His mother turned and looked away from him.
“Mother, please. You don’t understand, everything I have done has been for—”
“You were the eldest,” she croaked. “It was your duty to look after your younger brothers. Their shame is yours. It is you who have cursed this family.”
Fang’s voice rose in volume. “Shame? You mean the gangs? The Triad was the only thing that kept us alive, Mother. After Father died in his foolish display, what was I to do? Nothing? Watch as you struggled to raise two zhoushi ertong, lost children who were not allowed to work, or go to school? Watch while your sickness grew stronger each day?”
“You are the one who is lost, David. Si and Liu … some thought less of them, yes. The poisons we drank and breathed marked them on the outside, on their skin. But you … you carry that poison still. You carry it inside, in your heart. It has deformed your spirit.”
Fang stood up. “Enough. You do n
ot know what you are saying. Your mind has grown feeble, but I will still care for you. You will live to see me take my place at the head of the most powerful Triad the world has ever known.”
“Let me go, David.” Her voice was weak, faint. “I wish for no part in this. And I am so tired. Please, I have suffered enough. Let me go.”
“You wish to join your husband? Be with my father, and my brothers?”
She nodded. “This place, what they are doing to me … this is not life. This is eternal death.”
Fang looked into her old, tired eyes. “Always, you favor them over me. My wishes, my sacrifices mean nothing to you.”
His face twisted in rage and pain and he grabbed her hand again. She struggled to pull it back, but her weak, aged flesh could not escape Fang’s white-knuckled grip. He squeezed her hand tighter.
“You think you are the only one who suffers?” he shouted. “I fought, and bled, and killed for this family. I have sacrificed. I have watched governments betray us, punish us, try to grind us under their heels. But I fought back. I became strong. And I made my brothers strong. I have kept you alive, kept this family alive. And I promise you this. You will live to see me grasp the dragon rod in my hands. You will not die until I allow it, you understand? I have given you this time, I will decide when it ends. And you will see me rise!”
“David, please. You’ll give the poor woman a heart attack.” Iris slinked into the room. She wore a short, tight dress of red beaded silk. The dress ended just above her knees, but a long silk fan trailed from the back and down to the floor. It swept behind her clicking heels like the plumage of an elegant bird.
“Sir,” a man’s voice called out. It was Lewis. He followed Iris into the room. He was sweating, and his face was red with exertion. “A man in Huagu, an employee at our factory there … he says he has some information about the Americans we are seeking.”
He held out a cell phone towards Fang.
Fang dropped his mother’s hand and stepped away from the bed.
“Give me that,” he snapped. He snatched the phone from Lewis’s hand. “This is Mr. Fang." He listened for a moment. "Yes, yes, your daughter will receive the finest care," he said. "I will arrange for her to receive whatever treatment she needs. Assuming of course, you tell me what I want to know.”
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