by Alex Archer
A tariff imposed by Death. The thought intrigued Annja. Several rulers of port cities or along heavily traveled trade thoroughfares often claimed a cut of profits. Taxation was a key contributor to the American Revolution. Citizens, including some historians, often forgot that the U.S. was founded on the precept that taxation wasn't going to be allowed.
I'm still researching this, so maybe I'll have more later. I'm digging into the Chinese mythology, one of my favorite loves. Where else can you get such cool dragons?
Annja typed a quick reply, thanking the sender for the posting, and letting the person know she would be on and off the Internet over the next day or so. With no clues left to explore in Georgetown, Annja suspected she was going to have to return to Brooklyn.
It was possible that the story would simply die out and she might never know the end of the tale. She hoped that didn't happen, but there were a lot of archaeological and historical mysteries that were hundreds and thousands and millions of years old. Being educated didn't mean that she got to know everything.
Except that I've got the belt plaque. There was a certain satisfaction in that.
Opening her phone, Annja placed a call to a guy she sometimes employed to track down e-mail messages. After a brief discussion and a little flirting – which probably cut down the fee somewhat – he agreed to try to find out who had posted the photo and query about the belt plaque.
Then she dedicated herself to some cyber sleuthing of her own. The clue about Death and the belt plaque being used as a pass card of sorts intrigued her.
In minutes, Annja lost herself in the eternal library of the World Wide Web.
****
Tired of waiting, frustrated at every turn and feeling the grim certainty of a gun at his head – something that would happen if he failed at his assigned task – Huangfu Cao strode toward the deputy sheriff's car. Huangfu had spent the night in the forest beyond Georgetown's city limits. He'd slept intermittently. After the long flight from China to rendezvous with Annja Creed, he was bone weary.
He wore jeans and a lightweight corduroy jacket, like a lot of other tourists around town. But he carried a pistol filled with tranquilizer fletchettes wrapped inside a newspaper.
The deputy noticed his approach at once and sat up straight.
Huangfu smiled innocuously, like he was happy to see a man in uniform. He spoke in English. "Good morning."
"Good morning." The deputy nodded and regarded him through dark lenses.
"I appear to be lost." Huangfu affected an English accent. He'd worked in Hong Kong and could mimic the speech pattern perfectly.
"Sure." The deputy maintained his distance. His right hand was out of sight and Huangfu knew that it would be on his service weapon. He hoped the weapon was in its holster, not lying on the seat beside the deputy. That could cause a problem.
Moving quickly, Huangfu fired three times in rapid succession. All three fletchettes pierced the deputy's neck, jutting out from the flesh below his ear down to the hollow of his throat. The deputy tried to pull his weapon into play, struggling against the effects of the drug already overtaking his system.
The deputy almost managed to free his weapon.
Huangfu leaned through the open window and trapped the deputy against the seat while shoving the man's gun arm down with his left. The deputy fought, but his efforts only forced the drugs through his system even more quickly. In the space of a drawn breath, the deputy went limp.
Reaching across the unconscious man, Huangfu picked up the cowboy hat on the passenger seat and placed it over the deputy's head. The man looked like he was asleep.
Huangfu ripped the radio's wires loose, leaving them dangling beneath the dashboard. Satisfied that the deputy was out of play, Huangfu turned away from him and strode toward the bed-and-breakfast. He gazed up at Annja Creed's room. He knew where it was – he'd made the reservations himself.
This time she would not escape.
Chapter 12
Tse Chu-yu stood in the prow of the boat as Kelly approached. The old man was short and wizened, bent by the decades he had struggled through. Life had never been easy for him.
He had barely been a young man when the Japanese had invaded Nanking during World War II, and he had fought them in the streets with knives and swords. In the years since, there had been other battles, against thieves, pirates, drug smugglers, and corrupt policemen who would have taken his boat and home from him.
He wore khaki pants and a long-sleeved gray cotton shirt that he had rolled up to his elbows. Sweat dappled the shirt. Paint smears and bleach marks from harsh chemicals stained the material. The sluggish wind pulled at the smoke from the unfiltered cigarette between his lips.
Tse Chu-yu recognized her. Kelly knew that from the way the old man's head stopped moving for just a moment. Years ago, she had been impressed by the way he seemed to know everything that went on along the river. She hadn't known it was a skill that anyone might learn.
Later, she'd discovered that Tse Chu-yu knew far more about espionage than he did about fishing. He had worked for the Americans, the Russians and the British, but he favored the Americans because they paid him best, and he'd learned they would even pay him to lie if it confirmed a story and gave them an excuse to act.
The other espionage agencies probably did, too, Kelly had to admit, but she felt particularly rancorous against the United States at the moment. They were the reason she was living so dangerously.
Tse Chu-yu nodded. Just once. It was enough to let Kelly know that it was safe for her. She didn't know what she would have done if it hadn't been.
By the time she reached the end of the dock two young men ran out a gangplank. Her hand was already inside her tote bag.
Five young men occupied mats on the deck. One of the young men held out his hand for the tote bag. "Let me have that."
Kelly stopped on the gangplank just out of reach.
The other young men stood. All of them were armed. Tse Chu-yu's life was constantly at risk.
The first man looked at her, clearly angry. "You may not board."
Kelly didn't speak.
"Step away." Tse Chu-yu's voice was a ragged whisper, but there was no denying the power that it held. "This is my niece you see before you. Treat her with respect."
The men stepped back but remained wary. Despite Tse Chu-yu's confidence, they were responsible for his safety.
Smiling warmly, Tse Chu-yu gestured to the boat. "You are welcome here."
Kelly took her hand from the tote bag and stepped onto the boat.
Tse Chu-yu flipped the stub of his cigarette into the water and let out a last lungful of smoke. "We can talk in my quarters."
****
The quarters consisted of two small rooms. Kelly was familiar with them from her many visits with her father. Sometimes her father had fished with Tse Chu-yu, sometimes they had reminisced, and sometimes they got together to feel sad over the loss of their wives and to drink.
The outer room was elegantly appointed with simple things, pictures from happier times. There were a few books and a computer on a small desk. Despite the availability of e-mail, the old man commonly dispatched handwritten letters that were delivered by one of the young men on the boat. Sickly sweet incense hung heavily in the air.
They sat on folded knees on the floor. A low table separated them. Before Kelly could speak, one of the young men brought in a teapot and two cups. He placed them on the table without a word.
"Do you still drink tea?" Tse Chu-yu regarded her. "You have been gone such a long time that I don't know."
"I do. May I pour?"
The old man nodded.
With more calm than she knew she had any right to have, Kelly steeped the leaves from a small cloth bag and poured the tea. There was something about the ritual that was calming.
No matter what else goes on, there is always tea, she thought. Her father had said that, and during her life Kelly had come to understand what the ritual really allowed.<
br />
She served Tse Chu-yu with both hands, turning the cup to present it properly to him. Sometimes, when the fast-paced world she lived in got to be too much, she retreated to the old ways.
"You still remember how to present tea." The old man took the cup from her hands with both of his.
"My father trained me well." Kelly's voice broke as she remembered her father lying dead in his bed, but she kept herself strong. I will not lose control here. "I will never forget."
Tse Chu-yu waited until she'd served herself tea. "I was sorry to hear about your father," he said quietly.
"Thank you." Kelly's hands trembled slightly. He had been murdered only hours ago, and they were already talking about him as if he'd been gone for months or years. She sipped the green tea, finding it gentle but aromatic.
"Why did you come to me?"
Kelly put the teacup down. "Because I want to kill the man responsible for my father's death. I think that you'll know who they are."
"Killing them will not be an easy thing."
"But it is necessary."
Tse Chu-yu was silent for a moment. "Your father said you live a rather unconventional life these days."
Kelly chose not to be delicate. "I am a trained assassin."
"I do not recall that ever being one of the occupations you wished to do when you were growing up."
"My perceptions were changed." Memories crowded in at Kelly. "I finished my journalism degree at the University of Southern California. I wanted to work in the entertainment field." She knew her mother would not have been pleased. Her mother had intended her for greater things than following Hollywood gossip. "I was in Kosovo doing a piece on the political unrest there."
"A very dangerous place."
"Yes." Memories of artillery rounds whistling through the air and detonating echoed in Kelly's thoughts. Tank treads cracked pavement as the American cavalry units crashed through houses looking for insurgents. "My news team was taken captive by one of the terrorist groups. A woman, a fellow intern on the news team, was executed in front of us." That horror had haunted her for years until she'd finally seen things – and done things – that were even worse. "I believed they were going to do the same thing to the rest of us. Until I saw her killed, I believed the American military was going to save us."
"They didn't." Tse Chu-yu didn't sound surprised.
"No. I saved us. By the time they would have acted, it would have been too late." Kelly took in a slow breath and let it out. "It was already too late. I killed one of the guards – " She still wasn't sure how she'd managed it. "I took his weapon, and killed another man while I freed the prisoners."
"That sounds very heroic."
Kelly looked at him. "You've killed people, Uncle." She called him that out of respect.
He didn't refute her statement. Everyone who lived on the Huangpu River knew that Tse Chu-yu had blood on his hands.
"You know that killing someone is never heroic." Kelly sipped her tea. "It's done as a necessity. Or as a pleasure."
"Not out of vengeance?"
"Vengeance is one of the most basic pleasures."
"Is it so easy for you?"
In a flash of insight, Kelly knew that Tse Chu-yu was surprised by her plain talk and obvious comfort level with it. Father didn't tell you everything, did he? "This will be."
"You have killed others. In your service as an assassin?" the old man asked.
"Several."
"I see."
"A few months after Kosovo, I was approached by a man who claimed to be with the Central Intelligence Agency."
"Claimed?"
"I still don't know for certain. The training I received was secret, and it was conducted by men who were once in the military and espionage trade."
"You see assassination as a trade?"
"Some would call it an art." Kelly felt some of the tight knots of pain unraveling within her as she spoke. It had always been that way with Tse Chu-yu. The old man listened and asked questions and listened again. He never passed judgment or offered an opinion without being invited. "The fact of the matter is that anyone can be trained to kill anyone else," Kelly said.
The old man nodded.
"This man came to me and told me he could have me trained. He told me I could make a difference. Like I had in Kosovo. I believed him." Kelly drew a breath and wondered if she had been home if her father would still be dead. "More than that, I wanted to make a difference. I'd been a journalism intern long enough to know that I wouldn't make much of a difference there."
"While you were an intern, your mother died." Tse Chu-yu's voice was calm and gentle.
Okay, maybe I had some anger issues to work out, as well, Kelly thought. She didn't say anything. She felt like the old man could see right through her to her secret self.
"You became a good assassin?"
"I'm still alive."
"In that line of work, it's just as important to escape unknown as it is to kill the target you've been assigned."
"I know." Kelly regarded him intently, wondering how much he knew. "I want to talk about the men who killed my father."
"Of course."
"Do you know who killed him?"
Tse Chu-yu hesitated. It was a weakness she seldom saw in the old man, and she was trained enough now to see it and to exploit it. She would know if he tried to lie to her.
"I do know them. They are very dangerous men."
"Who do they work for?"
"Ngai Kuan-Yin. Do you know of him?"
Kelly nodded. "Ngai Enterprises."
"Yes."
"Why did he order my father's death?"
"You didn't come here just to learn the names of your father's murderers, did you?"
"My father trusted you with everything he had. Those men at my father's house were searching for something." She paused, not wanting to ask.
"He left something with me. I will get it." Despite his age, Tse Chu-yu stood easily and walked to his private quarters.
Kelly remained on her knees and stared after him. All she could think of was her father lying helplessly on his deathbed. She feared she would be sick.
Tse Chu-yu returned only moments later. He carried a burgundy cloth bag that Kelly could remember seeing at her father's house.
Tse Chu-yu handed the bag to Kelly. The weight was negligible. Pieces moved inside it. Through the thick cloth, they felt like sticks but they had odd shapes.
She looked up as the old man sat across from her. "What is this?"
"One of your father's projects."
Kelly thought about that. Her father was the most curious man she'd ever known. Music consumed his soul and brought his passion to life, but she felt certain he never went through a day without thinking of at least a thousand questions.
"Do you know what it is?" Kelly asked.
Tse Chu-yu nodded. "It is a puzzle."
Not satisfied with the answer, Kelly opened the bag and poured the contents onto the low table. Pieces spread out in a growing pool. At first she thought they were sticks, then she saw the porous and pitted surfaces and thought they might be soapstone used by the carvers to sell good luck charms to fishermen and tourists.
She picked up one of the pieces, surprised by its lightness. The piece seemed fragile, but when she tested it between her fingers, she found it was rigid and strong.
"Have you seen this before?" Tse Chu-yu watched her intently.
"No. I've seen the bag before, but not what was in it." Kelly ran her fingers through the odd pieces. "Do you think this is why my father was murdered?"
"In all the years that I knew your father, this is the only thing he ever asked me to keep for him."
"He trusted you."
Tse Chu-yu nodded. "He honored me with his trust."
"Did he tell you what this was?"
"Only that it was a very important secret that he wanted you to have."
Kelly looked at the old man. "Did you try to find out what it was?"
Tse Chu-yu smiled. "Of course I did. Your father asked only for my caretaking. Not for my disinterest. He knew me well enough to know that he could never have that."
"Did you find out what these are?"
"I did not find out the secret of those pieces, but I did learn that they were made of bone."
Kelly looked at the pieces. Her stomach spasmed. "Bone?"
"Finger bones, to be exact. Human finger bones. They are hundreds of years old. Perhaps thousands."
Kelly looked at the ivory-yellow pieces scattered across the table's surface. She couldn't believe her father would have such things. Or that they were anything someone would kill her father to get, or that he would give his life to protect them. It didn't make any sense.
She checked the burgundy bag again. This time she found the note.
Chapter 13
"What are you doing here?" The middle-aged woman stood drying her hands on her apron in the hallway.
Huangfu Cao lifted the tranquilizer gun and fired at her from pointblank range. She yelped and turned to run, but by then it was too late. Two fletchettes stood out from her chest and stomach. She managed two steps, then collapsed without a sound.
By the time Huangfu reached the stairway leading to the second floor, one of his men had stepped out at the other end of the hallway. He held Verna Thompson prisoner, one arm bent behind her back and a pistol pressed against her throat.
"Mrs. Thompson." Huangfu chose to be polite. It didn't help when prisoners were too frightened to think coherently enough to be cooperative. "Can you understand me?"
The woman nodded.
"I do not wish to hurt you."
Verna's eyes cut to the woman lying motionless on the floor.
"She's only been drugged. She will recover. Look at her. There is no blood. Do you understand?"
After a choked sob, Verna nodded.
"Good." Huangfu smiled reassuringly. "Do you have a safe on the premises?"
Verna nodded again.
Huangfu had felt certain the woman had. "Do you have anything of Miss Creed's in the safe?"
At first, Verna didn't answer. Then her captor pulled up on her arm hard.