The Dragon Within His Shadow

by Phyllis M. Rumore

  George's only respite from this difficult situation was James whom he anxiously, awaited. Within and around him, the world seemed to flow smoothly without complications. John, as always, had caused his patience to run thin and he knew if it didn't end now, he would act harder than he intended. “Empty your pockets and give your jewelry to Fong.” When John didn’t move, his voice became more firm, “quickly!”

  John hesitated, but placed things on the tray, because he knew if he didn't, it would be the Wall City. He knew if he were sent to that horrid place, where the air was so thick it hung in stillness that he would be forgotten. He needed to avoid that option, for there was no escape from that hell. His father as the master of the Society controlled a good portion of it, and would see to it that his life was spent there in slave like misery. He needed time to think and talk to Richard, who always knew what was happening. Richard always told him how to behave, and what to expect. He wondered why Richard didn't warn him of this as he usually did. He felt trapped and betrayed but would not let his father get the better of him. Where was Richard? He needed Richard right now, to help him work things out with his father. Richard could fix this. Where is he, thought John?

  John stood his ground and accepted punishment the way he figured an honorable man would, but he held back on the ring, not wanting to relinquish that which granted privileges.

  George saw this and waited, hoping the anger seen in John's eyes would dissipate and the boy would comply, but when John didn't remove it, he reacted. “Don't forget the ring; you'll have to earn the right to wear it again.”

  John struggled to remove the ring.

  “Take these.” George spoke and Fong presented another tray while he held out his hand for the ring. “These are your new papers and money. You'll follow the instructions of your brother. You're working for him now.”

  John looked at the tray with the new wallet, an American passport, a cheap, but good watch and then directly, into his father's eyes. He still couldn’t believe his father was making him a servant to someone, who was no less, usurping his place and clenched the ring tightly in his fist.

  “Take these,” said Fong.

  John stuffed the wallet and passport into his pockets and strapped on the watch.

  “James will not acknowledge you as anything other than a distant cousin. He knows I've a son in Hong Kong, but doesn't know it's you and that is how it will remain. Understood? No more special favors, John Chan!” George saw John wince at the sound of that name. “Yes. Chan is your new name. Bring honor to the name of the man you destroyed and you will regain the right to bear the name of Choi and be acknowledged as my son. Now leave. Go below and get use to your new name.” George pressed the buttons on the console that would summon Richard and his men.

  Richard entered the room with the others only mildly upset that he was forbidden to enjoy the deflating of the so-called prized son, yet his smirk bespoke his hidden happiness.

  George spoke to his men, “show Chan to his new quarters with the rest of the men, forward. Perhaps the first mate won't mind sharing his room temporarily. Richard, see to it! Wait! Wait just one moment, Chan. I'll take that ring! You’re no longer my son!”

  John, trembling with animosity, cast the ring at his father's face striking him on the cheek. “Here's your fucking ring!” John shouted, ignoring the guards who snapped to attention.

  “Fong! Take him below and teach him manners,” George said slowly, yet firmly.

  John moved to speak, but a guard smacked him in the face, stunning him into silence. The guard looked at George for reproach and finding none, grabbed John's wrist as his partner grabbed the other firmly, before they dragged him below, and followed by Fong.

  George watched John's struggle and closed his eyes. This was the hardest thing he ever did and it pained him until he caught a sideways glance from Richard, who had picked up the ring from the floor. He saw Richard standing before him examining the ring with too much sarcastic pleasure.

  When Richard's eyes met George's the smirk left and George took the ring a bit too forcefully, out of his hand. If he had any reservations, they were gone. He knew his decision was correct and the only one he could make. Richard mistook his action as anger for the son.

   * 

  After years of throwing his weight around, the men had developed a deep disesteem for John. True, they had permission to teach him a lesson, but they knew that was to a rather limited extent. That is, they couldn't cause the slow painful death they would have liked to dish out. Still, permission was there and being the skilled martial artists they were, they knew how to strike to cause pain without ripping open the healing gunshot wounds. They brought him deep into the bowels of the ship, into a room next to the engine room, where even if he should scream out, he would be drowned by the noise. So they shoved him roughly into the room and held him against the wall between the table and shelves filled with spare engine parts.

  John felt overwhelmed; his terror-filled eyes were open wide. While he had expected some form of punishment, he didn't expect anything as severe as being banished from Hong Kong. Worse, he couldn't believe what was about to happen to him.

  Chapter Ten

  Richard paused before the first mates cabin door and adjusted the clothing bag he bore over his arm. He had debated his choice to visit, but knew he had to follow through on the expected lest his charade be uncovered now at his triumphant moment. While moving John to San Francisco was not as beneficial as Macao, he had ways of dealing with things there, even if it was cumbersome. He had a few surprises in store for James already and adding John to the mix shouldn't complicate things too much. Actually, he thought, it might make things that much easier. What was that old saying, he pondered, kill two birds with one stone? He entered without knocking.

  John turned to look at who had the audacity to enter his room. He was about to say something when he saw it was Richard and held his tongue. He felt hurt that Richard hadn’t prepared him for his earlier meeting, so he ignored him and continued trying to get dressed. Even simple movements were painful. His muscles ached and his spirit was in a state of confusion.

  “You’re to get ready for dinner,” said Richard.

  “I know. I was told.” John moved about the austere cabin meekly. He was still shocked that his father had demanded he sit through a formal dinner to honor the very man he detested, his half-brother, his competition and rival. The more he thought, the more infuriated he became.

  “Here, let me help you,” said Richard.

  “Thank you.”

  “Things will hurt for a few days, but you’ll be all right.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “What?”

  “Hmmm.” John gingerly pushed his arm through the sleeve as Richard held the shirt.

  “You said you don’t understand. What is it you don’t understand John?”

  “Thanks. Many things, Richard.”

  “Really? Well, this is a first. You usually know everything.”

  “Don’t joke about it. I- - I don’t kn- - I’m confused.”

  “What is there to be confused about? You killed a man. Your father tried to protect you and wanted to send you to safety with your brother. You flew off the handle, insulted him in front of his men, causing him to lose even more face, on top of the face he already lost as a result of the act. What did you expect John? . . . To be patted on the back? To be consoled?”

  “Not this. That’s for sure.”

  “Than what? Why are you so confused? What don’t you understand? Did you think your actions would come without a price? Your childhood is over, John, and in the world of men your actions affect others and if you’re not careful, they affect you in ways you didn’t expect.”

  “I had to kill him. He insulted me.” John spoke defensively, wanting Richard to take his side, although deep inside his mind he knew, he was wrong, perhaps for the first time in his life.

  “No, John, killing that man was wrong, he didn't deserve
to die. You dug yourself a trap and cornered yourself. If you treated the man with respect, he would not have died and you would not be facing banishment. Your problems are the result of your careless actions.”

  “How long do you think it will be before he takes me back?”

  “That's hard to say. He's very angry with you and so am I. You've disappointed me.”

  “What? Will I ever be allowed back?”

  “Someday, when your father's anger softens, perhaps then you can return,” said Richard. “You must show him that you are a man of honor.”

  “Show him honor? He doesn’t know the meaning of the word.”

  “That John is where you are wrong. Your father, for all his strengths and faults, is a very honorable man. That is something I can most definitely, say about him. He treats all persons, both high and low, with respect and courtesy. In return, people hold him in high esteem. Through his actions, he has earned respect and honor and you would do well, to do likewise.”

  “What? Respect him? Why should I listen to him? Because he’s my father?”

  “Have you any respect for anyone other than yourself?”

  “Huh? No one respects me, so why should I give respect to anyone?”

  “You must give respect before you can receive respect; learn that lesson in life if no other. Now, when you go upstairs, don’t forget to call your father, Uncle George.”

  “He’s my father and I’ll call him Dad. Words cannot change that fact.”

  “John, why must you always go against him? When will you realize that his words become actions, because he has spoken? And, like it or not, you must obey him.” Richard smiled inwardly over his triumph.

  “I don't go against him, Richard; he just . . . Why did he let them beat me up? Richard?” John leaned back against the cabin wall and looked at Richard whose heart was touched by John’s pleading eyes.

  “Because. You are a foolish young man. You failed to display respect for him, yourself, or the Society. Go upstairs. We will talk again before you leave.”

  “Why? Why should I go up there?” John stepped away from the wall and moved towards Richard in a semi-threatening manner.

  “You need me to tell you that? Have you no brains?” Richard stood still and stared at the fool who backed down, leaned again against the wall with crossed arms and pouted. John remained silent with downcast eyes and Richard stared intently at the boy, wondering if the tragedy had turned him into a man. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he did feel something, as small as it was, for the boy. “You're family and the Triad’s. Do you know the history?”

  “Yeah. Well. Most of it,” said John. “But what does that got to do with me, my father, or what's happening? What's the big deal? For generations, my family has been in business supporting the Triads,” said John. “Right?”

  “Sit down, John.” Richard watched John pace about huffing before finally sitting down on his bunk.

  The first mate opened the door to the cabin, saw Richard and backed right out, closing the door quickly.

  Richard took the lone chair in the cabin and studied the young man. In some ways, John was like a son. He quickly recalled, however, how hard it had been to remember he wasn’t his son but his enemies’. He also remembered how George took preventive measures to make sure he didn't have a family. Well, he thought, pretenses only needed to be maintained a short while longer.

  “It’s time for you to learn. It’s time for you to know who you are.” Richard was amazed; John looked forlorn but was actually sitting quietly and paying attention. “Listen John, for every and no reason, you should know. For over two thousand years, we have cared for our people. For nearly a thousand years, your family has been part of the tradition. The formation and continuation of the society has always been for the protection of the people and their community. This above all else you must understand. For over two thousand years, almost from the dawn of what is China, societies such as ours, have existed. You must realize that emperors and their ministers didn't always have the best interest of our people in their hearts.

  “To be part of the Society meant honor and with it came respect as well as duty to the people. You must realize, John, with the vastness that is China, it was difficult for the emperor to govern it at best. He had to rely upon ministers, who weren't always honorable and who rarely, had the people's best interests in mind. Not to mention the few emperors, who had the audacity to restrict which religion we choose. Imagine not being able to pray as a Buddhist! Imagine!

  “And so the society fulfilled the people's needs. We helped trade with our vast network of contacts. Today with the telephone, it is perhaps easier, but then, back then John, when there was no electronic communication, things were different. Surely even you realize that communication over vast distances, with different dialects, was difficult. When they had disputes and there was no court, we settled the argument. We helped China manage its vastness . . .”

  Onward Richard talked, for nearly an hour. He told John most of the Choi history with the triads but neglected to divulge his family's part. True, he colored the Choi's a bit, but then again, they weren't saints. He started with the Red Eyebrows and their movement to protect the people from the usurper to the throne, to Chang Chueh and the Yellow Turbans and their fight for religious freedom. But it was the White Lotus Society and the beginning of his family and the Choi's involvement back in the 1100's that he focused on mostly. Themes of trade, religious freedom, court system and the origins of all the symbols as well as the symbolic nature of their ceremonies, which dated back to the Three United Society and their fight against the Manchurian invaders. How to show support for the Ming Dynasty, the Dynasty that they felt truly belonged on the throne; they chose the collective family name, Hung. How, when the character for Hung was written, it was also the same character for the word red, which is why they were known as the Hung Men or Red Sect. He went on explaining that the origin of the general name Triad came from them as well as its relationship to their symbol of the equilateral triangle, which represented Heaven, Earth, and Man. How, when there was a change in leadership, the name of their organization changed to reflect the direction of the new leader. Similar to the way an emperor would select a word or phrase to symbolize his reign.

  “We were one with one goal, the survival of China for, and by, the Chinese. So, if we sometimes supported crime what of it? Our goal was to make the invader, those Manchurians, later the British, and all the rest, look bad. And opium! Humph! Never forget, it was those Europeans, mostly British and Dutch, but the Americans as well, that brought it to China! So, what if we sell it back to them? That's poetic justice!” Richard smiled, pleased that John had listened.

  Richard's speech was comforting. Perhaps it was because he acted so fatherly toward him, in ways John thought his own father should have behaved. John continued staring at Richard even though he had stopped talking; he looked upon him with a mixture of emotions. On one hand, he felt this surge of love for the man, and on the other, there was a deep hatred mixed with feelings of betrayal. He felt calmer, the way Richard's usual history lessons made him feel, but tonight he also felt anxious, as if some part of the story was missing, but what, he wasn't sure.

  “Enough for now, it's getting late and you must get upstairs. Just remember John, our families have had a long honored tradition of involvement. “Here.” Richard removed the handkerchief from his pocket, opened it and held the chain till the ring dangled.

  John's eyes focused intensely on the ring. Such a little piece of gold held so many promises, opened so many doors and for the first time, he thought he knew the price of the trinket.

  “You may have this back but are to wear it under your shirt. When you feel you've regained the face you lost, you may wear it as a ring again. He's letting you be your own judge.”

  John took the chain and stared at the ring before looking up and seeing a smirk on Richard's face. The smirk cleared quickly. It was there and this time he did see it, he was sure
of it, but let the thought fade. He placed the chain about his neck, felt the weight of the ring against his chest. Although he needed quiet time to think, he knew that would have to wait until later. He stood and faced the small mirror while tucking the ring inside his shirt. There was a great deal of confusion, yet at the same time, a good measure of clarity was forming, chasing away his conflicts. He felt he had direction, although it wasn't the one his father thought he assigned.

  Richard watched John with approval, not so much for the young man, but for his accomplishment. “This is the first time you've been quiet for more then ten minutes. Now go upstairs.”

  They left the cabin and John gingerly climbed the narrow steel steps to the family-only deck levels. With each purposeful, confident step, he swore he would have his revenge. Refusing to look weak, he walked pass the silent, glaring crew with his head held high. The cook in particular, had a sneer that he wanted to strike at, but he knew he couldn't without risking even further retaliation. He understood for the first time that his father was not going to protect him and that made him feel isolated. Panic settled in the pit of his stomach, as realization of his predicament clarified in his mind. He emerged from the stairs, walked through the familiar passageway and into the living room where his father and half brother sat laughing. They were talking happily about something he couldn't hear and was shocked. He couldn't remember the last time he had heard his father laugh, yet, here this stranger sat making him happy.

  John felt unnerved by the display of camaraderie. Mostly he felt jealous of the one who obviously, had a deep and personal relationship with his father. He was struck with the thought that that was what had angered him for a long time. It was always Richard, to whom he turned. It was Richard who had always taken care of him. Richard was the one, who helped him get the girls out and cover his misdeeds. And it was Richard, who comforted him and interceded when he had problems with his father. But, he now asked himself; did Richard do this because he truly cared, or out of loyalty to his father?