Jackal

by Jeff Stone

  I stepped off my bike to consider my next series of moves when I noticed a cyclist cruising toward me. He rode a high-end road bike and was decked out in a complete European road bike racing kit, complete with full-fingered gloves. He was wearing a helmet and nighttime riding glasses, plus a silk scarf that covered most of his face. I realized that he was wrapped head to toe, as if it were the middle of winter. But it was summer.

  He spoke, and his words hit me like a punch to the stomach.

  “Hello, Jake.”

  I recognized that voice.

  It was Lin Tan.

  I locked eyes with Lin Tan in front of the long line of moviegoers. This was the guy who was supposed to have washed out to sea after having been poisoned to death by DuSow’s deadly touch. I instinctively tightened the straps on my backpack because this was bound to get ugly, and there was no way that I was going to get separated from the dragon bone.

  “You’re alive,” I said.

  “Clearly,” Lin Tan said, “a little worse for wear but, yes, still alive. Imagine my surprise when I stepped off of a smuggler’s airplane here in Shanghai to see your face on a billboard. Who would have guessed? I’ve spent my entire career attempting to popularize cycling in my native country, and what happens? My country imports a blond, shaggy-haired foreigner to do it instead.”

  “There’s no guarantee that I’ll be the one they pick,” I said. “You’d have just as good a chance. Are you planning to race on Saturday?”

  “Ha! My racing days are over, as are my days of posing for magazine ads like I used to. Billboards like yours are definitely out of the question.” He pulled off his riding glasses and scarf, and nearly everyone in the movie line shrieked. Several of them even ran off.

  I swallowed a lump of bile that had risen into my throat. Lin Tan’s skin was coal black and scaly, like that of a melanistic lizard. His eyes had sunken deep into their sockets, and his eyebrows had fallen off.

  “This is the end result of DuSow’s poison,” Lin Tan said. “I suppose I should be grateful that the dragon bone I’d once taken or its poison-based antidote somehow protected me from death, but it’s difficult to feel grateful for anything when you look like this. You have no idea what lengths I had to go to to find passage back to China. And when I arrive, what do I find? Like I said, you!”

  “Why do you have a problem with me?” I asked. “I’ve never done anything to you.”

  “You played a role in the sequence of events that led to DuSow taking action against me. For that, you will pay.”

  “But—”

  Lin Tan dropped his bike and lunged at me. I stepped back, holding my bike in front of me like a shield, but he grabbed it. He tore it from my grasp and hurled it to one side. I turned to run, but he took hold of my backpack. I pulled with all my might, and he held fast.

  The pack couldn’t take the strain.

  I heard fabric tear, and there was a soft crack as the plastic protein powder container hit the sidewalk. I spun around and snatched up the container, cupping one hand over the small opening that had formed along the bottom seam.

  Lin Tan saw the protein powder label and froze. He picked up a pinch of gray powder that had poured out onto the concrete, and he sniffed it. His spooky eyes went wide.

  “Dragon bone!” he said.

  I jumped on my bike with the container tucked under one arm. I held it upside down so that no more would spill out.

  I began to pedal away, and Lin Tan screamed, “Get back here!”

  As if.

  I hammered as hard as I could for about ten seconds, then I risked a glance over my shoulder. Lin Tan was standing still while reaching behind his back, into one of his jersey pockets. He pulled out a pistol and began firing it at me.

  POP!

  POP! POP! POP!

  Bullets whizzed past my head and ricocheted off the ground beside my tires. But I kept hammering. So far, I hadn’t been hit.

  The bullets stopped flying, and I glanced back again to see that Lin Tan had climbed onto his bike. He was coming for me, the pistol still in his hand.

  I tried to decide what to do. I could race back to the apartment, but then what? Loo the security guard was there, but I didn’t remember seeing him carrying a gun. More than that, Lin Tan was on a road bike, and it was a straight shot over smooth pavement from here back to the apartment. He might catch me before I got there. What would a sneaky, clever jackal do?

  I caught sight of the highway and remembered what Loo had said about Old Town. If the roads were as bad as he’d said, Lin Tan’s bike would be useless there, whereas I’d be just fine. BMX bikes were designed for rides like that.

  I pushed every ounce of energy I could into my thighs and rocketed toward Old Town.

  So did Lin Tan. By the time I reached the highway, he was too close for comfort. He raised the pistol and took a couple more shots at me.

  POP!

  POP! POP!

  I put my head down and somehow managed to cross underneath the highway without getting a bullet in my back. The nicely paved road I was riding on came to an abrupt T, and I made a hard left turn onto incredibly uneven pavement. I began to skid, so I drove my left heel into the ground. My shoe bounced and skittered across asphalt that was more uneven than any mountain bike trail I’d ever ridden. Thankfully, I managed to right myself and put my foot back onto my pedal. That really hurt. There was no way Lin Tan would be able to ride a road bike here.

  I reached another T-shaped intersection and randomly decided to make a hard right as Lin Tan reached the first gnarly section of road. I heard him cry out, and there was a loud metallic crash as he dumped his bike. If I hadn’t been so terrified, I would have laughed out loud. As it was, I continued deeper into Old Town as quickly as possible.

  After just one block, however, I had to dismount. I would have been fine continuing to ride this stretch if it were daylight and I was empty-handed, but attempting to ride now in the dark while juggling the large dragon bone container was just too much.

  I hurried along, pushing my bike, when I passed in front of a low building with an open front door. The doorway appeared empty, but when I went by, a large hand suddenly shot out of the darkness from behind me and clamped over my mouth. I tried to spin away, but the person’s other hand took hold of one of my belt loops and held me fast.

  I dropped my bike and tried to elbow my assailant with my free arm, but it was no use. The other person managed to keep me at arm’s length like a man holding a snake far away from his body.

  I began to grunt out of frustration and effort, and the person who was latched on to me whispered, “Shhhh!”

  It wasn’t much of a statement, but I could tell that it wasn’t Lin Tan’s voice. It was too raspy, like the voice of an old man who had smoked far too many cigarettes.

  I relaxed, and so did the grip across my mouth. I turned slowly to see the old man who’d watched my tricks from the bike lane. He smiled his toothless grin and motioned for me to come inside. I grabbed my bike and pushed it into the little building. He closed a door behind me.

  As far as I could tell, this was the old man’s house. It was tiny, to say the least, but it was tidy. It consisted of a single room with no windows, and no bathroom that I could see. There was a small table and two chairs in one corner, and a bed in another corner. On top of the table was a little gas burner with an empty wok as well as a handful of lit candles.

  A boy was sitting on the bed. He looked about six or seven years old. I guessed he was the old man’s grandson or maybe even his great-grandson. The kid didn’t seem at all interested in the fact that his old caregiver had just accosted a foreigner. He was too busy reading a kung fu graphic novel.

  The old man pointed to the wok and rubbed his stomach. He was asking if I was hungry. I was, but I didn’t want to impose any more than I already was, so I just shook my head and took off my helmet.

  The old guy shrugged and pulled a circular bamboo object out of a threadbare bag that he had slung over
one shoulder. The object had a diameter of about nine or ten inches, and it looked like a wheel that had been wrapped in newspaper. The old man unwrapped the newspaper, and I saw that there were actually two “wheels” that had been woven together with string. Sandwiched between the wheels were uncooked dumplings. It was some sort of dumpling steamer.

  Figured.

  The old man lit the small gas burner with one of the candles, then poured some bottled water into the wok. He nested the dumpling steamer against the inner walls of the wok above the water, then pulled a lid from a cupboard and sealed the wok. Some steam still managed to escape the lid, though, and within minutes, the entire room smelled like Chinese food.

  Delicious Chinese food.

  Whereas the dumplings I’d smelled earlier in the minivan seemed oily, these did not. They smelled fresh and somehow soupy, probably because they were being steamed with water.

  I loved soup. My stomach began to growl, and the old man laughed. He rubbed his stomach again, and this time, I nodded.

  He seemed pleased. After a few more minutes of steaming, the old guy removed the lid. I thought I was going to pass out from the sheer awesomeness of the aroma that billowed forth.

  The old man removed three bowls and three sets of chopsticks from the cupboard along with three Chinese soup spoons, which seemed odd to me. He dished five dumplings into each bowl and handed me and the kid on the bed a bowl, a set of chopsticks, and a spoon.

  I had no idea how to use the chopsticks, so I just held them and the spoon, and waited to watch and see how the others did it. However, they just stared back at me. It was clear that they wanted me to go first.

  I shrugged and set the chopsticks down. I scooped up one of the dumplings with the spoon and popped it halfway into my mouth. The dumpling wasn’t all that big, and I could have easily gotten the entire thing in there, but I didn’t want to appear greedy. I bit down, and there was a sudden explosion of heat and steam and deliciousness that gushed into my mouth and ran down my chin.

  Soup! The dumplings were filled with soup as well as meat! Genius!

  I scrambled to catch the meat and as much soup as possible with my spoon before it dribbled off of my chin and onto the floor. It was the best soup I’d ever tasted in my life. Eating it for breakfast might even top huevos rancheros.

  The old man and the kid laughed, and the old man looked genuinely happy. He gave me a big thumbs-up, then he and the boy dug into their dumplings, popping each one into their mouths whole. They used their chopsticks to handle the dumplings, but held their spoons at the ready in case any soup attempted to sneak out of their mouths.

  I followed their lead, except I used the spoon for every step of the operation. Each time I bit into a dumpling, the same amazing combination of sensations and flavors filled my mouth and splashed over my tongue. I was in heaven.

  When I’d finished, I tried to give the old guy some money, but he wouldn’t take any. It frustrated me, but at the same time it was obvious that sharing his meal and sheltering me had made him happy, so I let it go. I waited about half an hour more, then decided I should leave. Lin Tan was probably long gone. Since he had fired a gun, though, there were bound to be police officers crawling all over the place.

  I motioned toward the door, and the old guy seemed to know what I was planning to do. He shook my hand, then pantomimed that I should wait. I remained seated at his little table while he opened the door and peered outside. He slipped out the door, returning a few minutes later. He flashed me an okay sign, and I stood.

  I picked up the upside-down container of dragon bone and frowned. This was going to be a pain to transport.

  The old guy snapped his fingers to get my attention, and he opened the cupboard next to the one that held the eating utensils. He pulled out a roll of duct tape and handed it to me. I patched the crack in the plastic dragon bone container, then I patched my backpack. I put the dragon bone into the pack and tested the pack’s strength. It was as good as new.

  I handed the duct tape back to the old man and tried to give him some money again, but he still refused.

  I grabbed my bike to leave, then realized that I had no idea where I was going. If I went back to the apartment, the police would surely stop me. After all, there were at least a hundred people who’d seen the guy Lin Tan was shooting at. Most of those people had also heard him yell “Dragon bone!” The police would definitely confiscate the substance, canceling out the very reason I’d come to China in the first place.

  I thought for a moment about maybe leaving the dragon bone here with the old man, but that was just plain stupid. What I needed to do was head straight to Hú Dié and her dying mother before anybody even knew that I’d left Shanghai. This meant that I probably couldn’t take the bike with me. I got the little kid’s attention and motioned for him to come to me. He did, and I handed him my bike and the helmet.

  I don’t think I’d ever seen a happier kid. He squealed with delight, and I looked over at the old man, who appeared as if he was going to cry. I nodded to the old guy, and he bowed. Then he pressed an old baseball cap and a tattered scarf into my hands and shuffled me to the doorway, pointing up the street, away from the direction I’d come. He was thinking the same thing I was thinking, that I needed to mask my identity and skip town.

  I pointed in the same direction that he pointed, copying him, and then he gestured right with his arm, then left, and then right again. He was showing me the way out. I mirrored his gestures, and he gave me another thumbs-up.

  We shook hands one more time, and I wrapped the scarf around my face and placed the hat on my head.

  Then I hurried off into the darkness.

  Getting out of Old Town was the easy part. Figuring out what to do next proved to be much more difficult.

  The opposite side of Old Town was a part of Shanghai that looked exactly the way I imagined a Chinese city would look—lots of crowded tall buildings covered with glowing neon signs and streets spilling over with people. There were no bike lanes here, however, and very few bikes, probably because the traffic was so congested. I couldn’t have ridden here even if I’d wanted to.

  I walked past dozens of people, and nearly every one of them stared at me. I was beginning to think they all recognized me from the billboards, but then I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a storefront window. I looked ridiculous. What I was wearing was worse than not wearing any disguise at all. I totally looked like I had something to hide. I ditched the scarf and hat in the nearest Dumpster and headed into what I took to be the Shanghai equivalent of a convenience store. It was time for more drastic measures.

  I cruised the aisles, grabbing everything I could think of: scissors, black hair wax, surgical masks, cheap sunglasses, a hairbrush, and a pocket mirror. I took the items to the cashier and paid with some of the money Ling had given me.

  I walked a couple blocks before I spotted what I needed next. It was a McDonald’s. I bypassed the counter and headed straight for the restroom. Luckily, one of the two stalls was empty, and I went inside, locking the flimsy door behind me. I worked as quickly as I could, chopping at my shaggy hair along the sides of my head and flushing the blond clumps down the toilet. Next, I slathered my head with the black hair wax.

  I pushed my hair straight up in the center, forming a wicked thick and tall Mohawk. People tended to not stare long at guys who had Mohawks, especially crappy ones like mine.

  I put the pocket mirror, scissors, hair wax, and everything else except the sunglasses and a single surgical mask into my backpack alongside the dragon bone. I slipped on the mask and sunglasses and stepped back out into the night.

  My disguise worked. People not only didn’t stare at me, they went out of their way to avoid me, giving me plenty of space. I even freaked myself out a couple times after catching a glimpse of my reflection in a window. It wasn’t so much that I looked mean, it was that I looked disturbed. It was mostly because of the hack-job haircut, but the sunglasses added a nice demented touch, too. I�
�d chosen hot pink frames.

  I walked a few more blocks before finding the final item I needed—a prepaid cell phone. As luck would have it, the person behind the counter spoke English just fine, and I spent the rest of the money Ling had given me, plus half of what my parents had given me.

  But it was worth it. I left the store and dialed Hú Dié’s number, which I had memorized.

  “Wai?”

  “Hú Dié?” I said through the surgical mask. “It’s me.”

  “Jake!” she said. “Where are you? I do not recognize this number.”

  “I bought a prepaid cell phone. I’m in Shanghai, but I need to get out of here. Lin Tan is after me.”

  “Lin Tan? Are you sure? I thought he—”

  “I’m positive. Look, I don’t really have time to talk about him now. I want to bring the, you know, stuff to you. What’s the best way for me to do that?”

  “I am not sure. I believe I am being watched.”

  “By whom?”

  “I do not know, which makes it a problem. Maybe it is one of Lin Tan’s associates?”

  “Does he even have associates anymore?”

  “I am not sure. My father and I have been under surveillance before, and I am certain it is happening to us again. At least, it is happening to me.”

  “So I can’t come see you?”

  “I did not say that. We can still meet. It is just that I need to figure out a safe place. Let me think.… Okay, I know a place. It is going to be a little awkward for you to get there, but you can manage. You are clever. I am assuming that you plan to return immediately to Shanghai, yes?”