There was no response.
Giving up on the doorbell, Vic hammered the door with her fist, sending it flying open. She didn’t think she’d hit it that hard, but whatever. The sitting room looked no different than the night before. There were no signs of struggle, nothing. She shrugged and stepped into the room. The bedroom door was ajar, drawing her toward it.
Once through the door, she gasped. The bed was on its side, pillows and bedding strewn everywhere. Doc's stopper pistol was lying in the middle of the floor. Vic bent and picked it up. It hadn't been fired. She locked the safety and slipped it behind her back in the waistband of her skirt. If it ruined the line, Ming would just have to deal with it.
Stepping back, she surveyed the room. Apart from the bed, nothing seemed to have been disturbed. The closet door was open, with half a dozen shirts hanging neatly. The wardrobe was the same. Doc's clothes put away, all but the ones from the flight, which were in the laundry hamper. His boots were missing, along with a pair of khakis and a shirt, but that was all.
“Dammit, Doc,” she muttered as she started working her way around the bedroom looking for clues. The bedding held nothing. From the condition of the bed it looked like Doc had slept in it, but he hadn't been in the bed when it was tossed.
The desk was immaculate, save for the notepad, which was missing the top half-dozen sheets. There was a tiny scrap of the top sheet remaining, with a hint of green ink, but that was all. Vic slid her fingers over the paper, feeling the marks where someone might have written something, but too many sheets were gone to read the message. The fountain pen was just like the one in her room, a Parker with black ink.
That drew her back to the notepad, green ink was what Doc used in his tracker pen.
“I suppose he wasn't hiding under the bed?” Gus said from the doorway.
“Nope,” Vic replied. “The bed was on its side when I got here.” She gestured around the room. “Looks like he went peacefully. I think he left a note, but someone came by later and tossed the room and I can't find it.” Vic tossed Gus the notepad. “Take a look at that top corner, I think Doc's got his tracking pen.”
Gus took a look at the notepad, angling it so it caught the light. “It's the right color. I'd have to run some tests to be sure, but I would expect it's the right ink. Let's hope he turned it on.”
“First things first,” Vic said, “where's the receiver?”
“Doesn't Gilly have it in his gear?” Gus wrinkled his lips. “I know I didn't bring it from Flying Cloud.”
“Neither did I, and it's not in Doc's closet.”
“What's not in Doc's closet?” Ming poked her head into the room. “I thought you were coming back to finish breakfast.” Her eyes went wide. “What happened? Did someone think you were in here with him?”
“Very funny,” Vic told her. “No, Doc seems to have gone out for some reason, and his room was tossed later. The door wasn't locked when I got here and the bedroom was like this.”
Ming vanished into the sitting room. “The lock's broken,” she called back.
“That figures,” Vic said. “They must have gone in when we were down for breakfast or someone would have heard. Tipping a bed like that isn't exactly quiet.”
“You would know that.” Ming sniffed, and then smiled at Vic, reducing the sting of her words. “So what are you looking for as well as Doc?”
“His tracking receiver.” Vic pointed to the notepad in Gus's hand. “We think Doc had a tracker on him when he left, but we can't find the receiver. It might be in the plane.”
“The same plane they impounded?” Ming said. “Good luck getting through the paperwork to get anything out of that. The officials here love their forms and fines.”
Gus nodded slowly. “I know a little about bureaucracy, and getting the receiver is our best hope toward finding Doc.” He looked around the room. “Maybe you and Vic can clean up here, looking for any clues while Gilly and I try to get through the customs people to see about getting into the plane.”
Vic pulled the chair out from the desk and plopped down in it. “Have fun with the paper pushers, Gus.” Bureaucracy gave her hives. Bureaucrats were like carbon copies of real people, all faded with no joy or life of their own. Gus could deal with them.
Gus gave a wide grin that showed all his teeth, and then turned to leave.
Vic had a thought. “What about Kehla? Is she going with you or staying with us?”
“Coming with me.” Gus looked at the floor. “After the way I left home the first time, it seems she doesn't care to let me out of her sight for any length of time.”
Ming laughed. “Doesn't she trust you?”
“Well there's trust and there's trust,” Gus replied. “She trusts me with other women, especially you tiny hairless ones, but she doesn't trust me to stay in one place.” He shrugged, the wave going down both arms. “Besides, I am going to the airport.”
Vic laughed. “There is that, and you did disappear on her for a few years.”
Ming pointed at Vic. “You're going to have to tell me all about it sometime when we're alone.”
“All right, but not until after we find Doc.”
Gus straightened his hat and tried to head for the door again.
“Um, before you go can you do me a favor, Gus?” Vic batted her eyes at him. “You're much stronger than I am, can you put the bed back where it belongs?”
“Oh, all right.” He reached out and flipped the bed back into place with one hand. “I keep forgetting how puny you humans are.” He dusted his hands off. “Now, I'm leaving.”
“Okay.” Vic waved. “Good luck getting to Flying Cloud.” She lounged back in the chair as Gus left the suite.
Ming raised an eyebrow. “You call that cleaning?” She looked around the room. “If I tried that my grandfather would have made sure I couldn't sit down.”
“Gus isn't my grandfather,” Vic reminded her, “nor is he my boss.” She stretched out and put her feet up on the desk and her hands behind her head. “I already looked for clues; I found the one he's chasing down. In the meantime I'm going to wait right here and see what housekeeping does about this mess.”
“Do you think they had something to do with it?”
“I don't know, but it's the best thing I can do right now.” Vic spun the chair and dropped her feet onto the floor with a thump. “I'd rather be out doing something, but I'd cause more harm than good if I went to the customs office.” She smacked one fist into the other. “I hate waiting for no reason.”
She started as she felt Ming's fingers digging into her shoulders. “You are tight,” Ming said. “You really need to let go of this stress.”
Vic leaned back, relaxing into the pressure of Ming's fingertips. “I just feel useless.”
Ming worked along Vic's shoulders, digging in beside the collarbones. “You aren't useless, you're just impatient. We'll wait for the housekeeping staff to turn up and then we'll go find Doc.”
Ming's fingers drew the tension out of Vic's muscles, and she leaned further back. “Mmmm, thanks, I needed that.” A few moments later, Ming's words percolated. “We'll find Doc?”
“We'll find Doc.”
#
The housekeeping staff hadn't done anything out of the ordinary. One woman had looked at Vic and Ming for a long moment, but that was it. They had approached cleaning as if finding a suite with bedding all over the floor was perfectly normal, and for all Vic knew it might have been. Ming had left the room shortly after the housekeeping staff arrived, once it was clear there was no reaction. Within twenty minutes the room was spotless, the sheets had been changed and the bed made. There was even a new notepad on the desk.
When it came to clues about Doc's disappearance, it had been a complete waste of time. Most of the housekeepers were Chinese, and Vic had had to fight to keep a straight face as they gossiped their way through the job in Cantonese. Obviously, they didn't think the white woman knew their language.
Not five minutes after the hous
ekeepers had left, Vic had Doc's property locked in her room and was outside the hotel lobby with Ming, waiting for a hired car. Shortly thereafter, a late model Chevrolet pulled up with a local driver at the wheel. The wheel was on the wrong side, but at least it was a Chevy. The driver got out and handed the keys to Ming, before vanishing into the hotel.
Ming took one step towards the car before Vic held out her hand. “A-hem.”
“What?” Ming stopped and looked innocently at Vic.
“The keys.” Vic glanced meaningfully at her open hand. “If you think my shoulders are tight now, just wait until you see what they're like if I don't get to drive.” She grinned. “Unless you want me all tensed up.”
Ming sighed, and dropped the keys. They landed with a soft thump in in Vic's palm and she smiled as she closed her fingers securely over them. She opened the passenger door for Ming, and then walked around to the driver's side, a little more spring in her step.
Traffic was light, but not so light that Vic forgot to drive on the left. Ming directed her further into the city, away from the hotel. As they drove, the roads grew narrower, and the buildings closer together as if the city had been squeezed by a giant. Vic's sense of direction was good, but it wasn't long before she had lost her bearings and was going by Ming's instructions alone.
After about half an hour, they were driving along a canal, when Ming told Vic to pull over. A group of local women were doing laundry in the canal, while a row of shops faced the water from the other side of the street. Taking Vic's hand, almost as if she were afraid Vic would run, Ming led her across the street to one of the shops.
A bell rang as she opened the door, drawing Vic into a dark yet familiar atmosphere. It was an apothecary shop just like Ming's in New York, the same scents, almost the same layout. Even the door was painted the same shade of green.
“Hello?” a voice called from the darkness in Cantonese. “I'll be out in a moment.”
Ming squeezed Vic's hand, but kept quiet. Vic squeezed back, and didn't say anything either. After a moment, a small figure came out through the curtain behind the counter. “Are you still here? What can I do for you?”
“Hello grandfather,” Ming said softly.
“Grandfather? Who said that?” He stood up straight, looking at them through a round pair of glasses perched on his nose. “Li Ming is that you? What are you doing here, you're supposed to be in America!”
“I came to help a friend.”
“What about your shop? Did you go out of business? Did you leave it unattended?” His questions came quickly in rapid-fire Cantonese. “Did I waste my money sending you to medical school? Who is this woman you brought here? Did you come to your senses about marrying Feng?”
Ming met the barrage of questions head on. “I saved her life, so now I am responsible for her.”
“Responsible? You? Hah!” Her grandfather slapped the counter. “You're a doctor, you can't be responsible for everyone you save, that would be even sillier than she looks!” He looked at Vic and sniffed, before turning back to Ming. “At least now you're home you can marry Feng. If he will still have you. Just don’t run off to America again this time!”
It was all Vic could do to keep quiet, as Ming's grip on her hand tightened with every question.
“No grandfather, I am not marrying Feng.” Ming glared at the old man. “I had hoped that you would be happy to see me and meet my friend.” She took a deep breath. “Even so, I still have to ask you if you know of anything strange happening last night. Our friend has disappeared and we came to ask for your help in finding him.
“He is an American, well over six feet tall.”
“You should talk to your mother about men, especially white men.” He gave Vic a once over. “She should go work for your mother.”
“Grandfather!”
He shrugged. “Anyway, there was something down by the Dragon Club last night. Crazy people talking about giants in the street, and an exploding tram. It's ridiculous.”
Ming laughed and looked at Vic. “Does that sound like anyone you know?”
“Giants and explosions, that sounds like Doc.” Vic extended her free hand toward Ming's grandfather. “By the way, my name is Victoria Frank, and it's a pleasure to meet you sir.”
He looked at her as if she'd sprouted wings or horns, and then slowly extended his own, obviously caught off guard by her knowledge of Cantonese. “Pleased to meet you. I hope you will take good care of my granddaughter.”
“I will.” Vic met the man's eye, and saw genuine concern behind the abrasive manner. “I would like to come back and see you again, but we really must find our friend.”
“Are you going to marry him?”
“No, it's not like that. We work together, I fly planes for him.”
He waved them away. “Go then, Li Ming knows where to go. I hope your friend is all right.”
Vic took advantage of the opening and pulled Ming towards the door. “Thank you, for everything, I'll take good care of your granddaughter.” She blinked as they went through the door into the sunlight.
“Where to, Ming?”
“It's not far.” Ming replied, hurrying to keep up. “Did you mean what you said about Doc?”
“What about Doc?”
“That you aren't going to marry him?” There was an urgency in Ming's voice that Vic didn't quite understand.
Vic nodded, helping Ming into the car. “Any woman ought to be glad to have him, but I don't think he knows what love is.”
“Not any woman,” Ming muttered, though Vic ignored the words.
Vic slipped into the driver's seat. “Where to?”
“Near the port.” Ming pointed, her face blank.
Vic pulled out, hoping they would reach Doc in time. “How far is it?”
“Not far.” Ming said in a dull voice, and then leaned against her door as they headed toward the water. Vic kept stealing glances, but Ming hardly moved. Something had happened when they met her grandfather, but what?
Ming's directions seemed good, and it wasn't long before they reached a detour. The colonial police officer was polite, but he was also insistent that they not drive any further. Vic parked the car, and followed a very stiff Ming down the street.
They had barely made it around the corner before Ming came to a full stop so suddenly it was all Vic could do not to bowl her over. The warehouse before them had a hole in the second story wall about eight feet high and twenty feet wide like something had reached in and ripped it apart. Bricks and panels lay everywhere, and a network of cracks led them further down the road.
Vic didn't have to look very far. A giant robot lay in the road about a quarter of a mile away. As soon as she saw the figure, she started sprinting. Luckily, Ming had set out sensible flats for her, so she didn't have to lose her shoes to run.
As she got closer, she saw debris everywhere, sheets of metal strewn across the street. The robot looked like it had tripped over one of the local trams and its boiler had exploded. The machine was flat on its back, with two squashed funnels poking out from underneath while the remains of its burst chest pointed to the sky like broken ribs.
She could only get so close, the police had cordoned the area off, so she started making her way around the barrier, looking for any sign of Doc. It took a while but finally she found an ambulance, guarded by an officious looking colonial police officer. Doc was lying on a stretcher with two attendants looking over him. Vic ducked under the barrier and walked up to the policeman.
“I'm his wife.” Vic said, reaching into her purse and pulling out her second passport. Doc was lying unconscious with a lipstick mark on his cheek. His face was filthy, and it looked like whoever kissed him had wiped his cheek first. His shirt was in shreds, and there were bruises all over his chest and upper arms. “What happened to him?”
“We don't know, he was found like this,” the police officer explained. “Even the lipstick.”
Vic nodded to Ming as she caught up, a little out of breat
h. “We found him.”
“I see that.”
One of the ambulance attendants looked up from where Doc was lying. “We'll have to take your husband to the hospital to check him out; you can ride along in the ambulance if you like.”
“Husband?” Ming spluttered, fixing Vic with a glare as her back stiffened even more than before.
Vic tried to shush her with a discreet chopping motion, then turned back to the attendant. “That shouldn't be necessary. Dr. Li here is my husband's personal physician. She can take care of him if you would just assist us in getting him to the car.”
Ming turned to the attendant, her own purse open. “Yes, here is my medical license. Just let me sign a release.” She was all efficiency, but there was a new harshness to her tone that Vic couldn't place.
After a few moments, the papers were signed and Ming turned back towards the car. “Lead the way, Mrs. Vandal.”
“It's not what you think,” Vic tried to explain.
“We can discuss it once my patient is safely back to the hotel Mrs. Vandal,” Ming said, and then pursed her lips into a thin white line. She didn't say another word the whole way back to the car. Once at the car, she had the attendants put Doc in the back, pointedly ignoring Vic the entire time, and then gestured to the seat beside Doc.
“Get in, he needs someone to watch him and you don't know Batavia well enough to drive back.”
The moment Vic was into her seat, Ming slammed the door and then walked forward to take the driver's seat. She glanced at the mirrors, started the car, and took off with a jerk, blaring her horn at pedestrians as they scattered out of her way.
The drive was a nightmare for Vic. Ming wouldn't answer any questions, and her driving had Vic clutching the door handles for dear life. Once they got to the hotel, Ming left Vic in the car with Doc, and headed towards Gus's room without a word.
A few minutes later, Gus appeared. “What's got into your friend?” he asked amiably as he eased Doc out of the car. “She looks like she bit into a plantain instead of a banana.”
Air Pirates of Krakatoa Page 7