The Blade of Silence (Fang Mu Eastern Crimes Series Book 3)

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The Blade of Silence (Fang Mu Eastern Crimes Series Book 3) Page 45

by Mi Lei


  Lu Dajiang had just sat down at the table when he heard the iron courtyard gate creek open. With a shrug of a shoulder, Lu Tianchang motioned him to see who it was. He had barely opened the door when Lu Haiyan came bursting in. She ran right into Lu Dajiang and the contents of her basket crashed to the floor. As they hit the floorboards, the bottle shattered into a thousand pieces, spreading its sweat aroma through the room.

  "What happened, Lu Haiyan?" Lu Tianchang demanded with a scowl. "You look like you saw a ghost."

  "Uncle!" Lu Haiyan panted breathlessly. "There're strangers in the village."

  "What?" The village head jumped to his feet. "How many? What do they look like?"

  "Three men. They all look like they're from the city." She paused. "They… They're looking for you and Lu Dajiang."

  The two men stared at each other. All the color had drained from Lu Dajiang's face.

  "Where could they be now?" Lu Tianchang mumbled to himself, and then asked her the same question.

  Her response came readily. "I led them to the ancestral hall."

  Before she had even finished, Lu Dachun had jumped out of bed, rushed to a clay pot in the corner of the room and grabbed it.

  He was in too much of a hurry to properly unseal the pot. Instead, he simply smashed it onto the floor. The broken pot revealed two bundles wrapped in paper. Lu Dachun grabbed both and then ripped an old flintlock pistol from where it hung on the wall.

  He handed one bundle to his father and the other to Lu Dajiang. The flintlock pistol he kept for himself. He took a deep breath. "Let's go."

  Liang Sihai and his men cautiously closed in on the ancestral hall. The bodyguard went first. He walked up to the wall, squatted down and slid up to one of the wooden windows. He gave it a try, but it wouldn't budge. Xiao Wang took a more direct approach. He walked to hall's main door and glanced through a crack, then gave it a push. The door opened with a loud creak.

  Xiao Wang signaled Liang Sihai and the bodyguard to join him. "Over here," he said, pulling his gun from its holster. He walked through the door.

  The three men entered the vast emptiness of the main hall, letting their eyes sweep across the dilapidated and dusty interior. For a few moments, they stood by the entrance, surveying the hall as best as the murky twilight would allow. Then, they cautiously fanned out.

  Despite the darkness, the hall seemed to offer no place to hide.

  After a minute or so of fruitless searching, Xiao Wang pointed at a wooden stage at the far end of the hall. He motioned the others to draw their weapons.

  Holding their breaths, the three snuck up to the stage, searching the shadows for any sign of movement.

  Everything remained deathly silent.

  Without warning, Liang Sihai shouted, "Come out, Old Jin!"

  The ancestral hall reverberated with his loud summon. In the emptiness, his voice seemed to grow to a crashing roar. As it finally faded, a cold wind whistled through the cracks and crevices, billowing the genealogies, calligraphy scrolls, and paintings that hung from the walls. Waves of dust rose and were caught by the wind, engulfing the three men.

  But there was no answer.

  Liang Sihai was about to call out again when he heard the unmistakable creak of the door behind them.

  All three men spun around. Three silhouettes stood at the entrance, starkly outlined against the light of the open door.

  Lu Tianchang, Lu Dachun and Lu Dajiang stood there.

  The three villagers were in no hurry. They remained silently in the doorway, staring at the intruders. Then, they slowly began their approach. At 10 feet from Liang Sihai and his men, the villagers stopped.

  It was dark, but not dark enough to hide the fact that Lu Tianchang and Lu Dajiang kept their hands in their pockets. Lu Dachun had his left hand behind his back. It didn't take much to imagine what they were hiding.

  Six pairs of eyes stared at each other; six hands gripped six guns—and no word was spoken.

  It was Lu Tianchang who eventually broke the silence. "Why have you come here?"

  Liang Sihai stared at the village head. Slowly and deliberately he answered. "You know exactly why."

  "Actually, I have no idea," Lu Tianchang said, snorting.

  Liang Sihai's eyes flared in rage and his mouth shot open. He closed it again with a sneer, suppressing his anger and the litany of curses that was on his lips. He wouldn't underestimate these peasants again. He knew what they were up to. The fucking country bumpkins were trying to get him to talk: That was no gun in the village head's pocket. He was carrying a recorder.

  Liang Sihai's sudden silence was all Lu Tianchang needed to know: This was a setup. The men from the city were probably wearing a wire; maybe they'd even set up a camera in the shadows of the hall.

  Silence raised an invisible, but undeniable barrier between them. None of them knew what the men on the other side were planning, and so they watched and waited, desperate to catch any hint of imminent attack or cowardly betrayal.

  Liang Sihai's gaze fell upon Lu Dachun's bandaged wrist. There was nothing where a strong, vigorous hand should have been. As he stared at that emptiness, his mind drifted back to his son, lying unconscious on a hospital bed.

  Lu Dachun noticed Liang Sihai's stare. Immediately, his breathing quickened and his pulse began to race. What was he looking at? He couldn't believe it. That fucking bastard was gloating!

  Lu Dachun took a step forward. Just before he could draw his left hand out from behind his back, Lu Tianchang stopped him. But neither father nor son ever took their angry eyes off Liang Sihai's face.

  Liang Sihai scowled. "Old Lu, shall we talk?" His voice was a harsh whisper.

  "Yes," Lu Tianchang whispered back. "Let's talk. What do you really want?"

  "Hand him over." Liang Sihai chose every word carefully. "Or give back what he took from me."

  A shudder ran down Lu Dajiang's entire body and he took a step back, taking cover behind Lu Tianchang. The village head gnashed his teeth as white-hot anger rose in his chest. Who does he think he is? Coming to my village and demanding I hand over my men?

  "Kill 'em all, is that it?" Lu Tianchang pressed his lips together. "If you think I'll just surrender him to you, you're crazier than I thought."

  Liang Sihai's mouth twitched in anger as his eyes narrowed. He was about to snap back, but Xiao Wang stopped him with a forceful tug on his arm.

  "Old Lu, there's no need for any of this. Just keep him." Xiao Wang fixed the village head with his unwavering gaze. "But you have to return our things."

  "Your things?" Lu Tianchang raised his eyebrows. He could only assume that he was talking about the memory thing and the other items in the briefcase. "They're all mine now and I plan on keeping them," he said with a bitter smile.

  Do you think I'm stupid? Lu Tianchang thought to himself. I don't care if those recordings incriminate you or me, I am not just going to hand them over.

  "All right, take it easy." Liang Sihai's patience was hanging by a thread. "How much do you want?"

  "How much?" The man had the gall to offer him money. "Ten yuan!" The village head spat the number at Liang Sihai's face.

  Liang Sihai and Xiao Wang exchanged a look of blank frustration. A few stunned moments later, Xiao Wang forced a smile. "Old Lu, this is no joke."

  Lu Tianchang's face had turned a terrifying shade of pale. Nothing about him suggested even the slightest hint of humor. "Ten yuan," he repeated. "Do you think that's too little? Really?" he roared. "It's the price of a hand, isn't it?"

  Red blood on the white bedsheet. His son, kneeling before him, pleading. A broken, pale hand on a surgical tray…

  The images exploded in Liang Sihai's mind.

  He pushed Xiao Wang out of the way, drew his gun and aimed the barrel straight at Lu Tianchang's head. "Give them to me! Now!" Liang Sihai screamed at the top of his lungs. "Give me the recordings!"

  In an instant, the hall rang with the sound of metal. Five men had drawn five pistols. Two aimed at th
ree.

  Only Xiao Wang had not moved. He stood frozen, caught in a daze.

  Recordings?

  Suddenly, it hit him and his eyes widened. Throwing his hands into the air, he shouted, "Stop, everyone, stop! We've got this all wrong—"

  His voice was lost in the crack of a pistol shot.

  Liang Sihai could see only betrayal and lies. He was sure that this was an ambush.

  Lu Tianchang could see only betrayal and lies. He was sure that Liang Sihai had come to humiliate or kill him; probably both.

  And that was why they let their bullets conclude the negotiations.

  The quiet of Lu Village was shattered by a dozen sharp cracks. Then, for the briefest moment, silence returned. It didn't last. All around the village, startled dogs' barking echoed through the streets and courtyards. Safe in their houses, the villagers wondered who was lighting firecrackers at this time of year. Only Lu Haiyan stared at the ancestral hall, tears streaming down her face as she whispered one name, over and over.

  It was all over in seconds. As the reverberation of the last shot died, wisps of smoke began to spread through the hall, drifting over the six men. Not one of the six remained standing.

  Where then did the soft sound of footsteps come from?

  On the stage, the still smoking barrel of a pistol quietly parted the moldy curtain.

  Fang Mu first carefully pinned a police ID to chest, and then stepped out into the open.

  Standing on the center of the stage, he looked down at the men lying on the floor below. The curtain was falling, the drama was about to end.

  It had been a good show.

  At the bank, Liang Zehao hastily filled the money order form for the 500,000. Pei Lan was standing next to him, memorizing every name and number.

  Near Wanbao Street, Fang Mu removed his surgical mask and hood. As he unwrapped the bandages covering his right hand, he kept his eyes fixed on Jin Yongyu securely trapped in the sack on the ground. Nearby several men awaited further orders.

  Tai Wei was standing close by. His old friend was watching Fang Mu with a cold stare. Suddenly, he asked, "Where did you get the gun from?"

  "It's from a friend." Fang Mu looked up at the moonlit sky. It was a night much like the one Ding Shucheng's body had silently burned in a window of the Baixin Bath Palace.

  "Did you really shoot?" Tai Wei's eyes narrowed. "That could have gone terribly wrong."

  "They're just blanks." Fang Mu laughed as he handed Tai Wei the gun's magazine.

  For a few moments, Tai Wei stared at Fang Mu, then a wry smile twisted his lips and he nodded. "I don't really get you anymore," he said with a shrug.

  "That's probably a good thing." Fang Mu lowered his eyes as he handed Tai Wei a cigarette.

  Tai Wei didn't take it; instead he continued to frown at Fang Mu. "Do you… Do you really know what you're doing here?"

  Fang Mu took a long drag on his cigarette. When he looked back up, there was a smile on his face. "Do you trust me?"

  After a few seconds, Tai Wei nodded ever so slightly.

  "You and the brothers have done good work." Fang Mu clapped Tai Wei on the shoulder. "Find a place to lock him up for the next few days. I'll give you a call when it's done."

  Tai Wei wordlessly motioned his men to load Jin Yongyu in the car. When he turned back, Fang Mu was already disappearing into the night. "Take care of yourself," he called out after him.

  Fang Mu didn't look back, but he raised his hand and waved, the cigarette in his hand drawing a glowing red arc in the darkness.

  "Hello?" Fang Mu answered his cell phone.

  It was Du Yu, his friend at the bank. "Someone has made an appointment to withdraw the money from the account. It's tomorrow at the Nanjing Street branch."

  "Excellent." Fang Mu quickly scribbled the details into his notepad. "And thank you."

  "Brother, get a move on," Du Yu urged quietly. "I transferred a customer's funds without authorization; I don't want to lose my job."

  "Relax. After they check the account tomorrow, you can return the money. If there's trouble, just blame me."

  "Fuck, just leave you hanging? That would be cold." Du Yu chuckled. "Don't worry. I'll do my best to have this all wrapped up without anyone losing their job."

  The Prajna Temple.

  His heart heavy with worries, Liang Sihai bowed and took his leave from Abbot Jingneng. The abbot let out a soft sigh as he watched his wealthy benefactor leave the main hall. Then, he returned to the rooms of the inner temple.

  In one of those rooms, Fang Mu quietly looked at the heavy black briefcase lying on the tea table. When the abbot entered, he first filled Fang Mu's cup and then seated himself across from him.

  "Benefactor Fang, you have waited for a long time."

  "Not at all, Revered Master. I was just thinking, after what I told you about Liang Sihai…" Fang Mu paused and looked up from the briefcase, "why did you accept his ill-gotten money?"

  With a tranquil smile, Abbot Jingeng pointed to the tea in Fang Mu's cup. After Fang Mu had taken his first sip, the abbot asked, "Does the tea taste all right?"

  "Oh, it's quite good," Fang Mu replied, somewhat baffled.

  "Do you know who picked the tea?" Abbot Jingneng asked.

  Fang Mu frowned. "Revered Master, I don't understand your question."

  "Neither of us has made the effort to find out whether this tea was picked by good people or bad people, because either way, tea is tea," the abbot sedately explained. "It is the same with money. Before you revealed Liang Sihai's true nature, this humble monk did not know how Benefactor Liang made his money. Now, even though it is known, the question remains: Does it really make a difference? 'Ill-gotten money'. That is the language of the world. It does not matter to this temple. If Benefactor Liang donates money, this temple will accept it and give it to the needy. As it moves and is handed on, who will be able to tell if it was good or evil money?"

  Fang Mu gave his words some thought, and then got to his feet and bowed.

  "I am not a Buddhist, but your words have been enlightening, Revered Master." His gratitude was entirely sincere. "I overheard your conversation with Liang Sihai. I want to thank you, Revered Master, for helping me and for violating your vow of truthfulness on my behalf."

  "It is for you to judge what kind of person Benefactor Liang is. To this humble monk, it makes no difference whether he has done good or evil, as long as he has now truly turned his heart to the Buddha. It can only be hoped that his conversation with this humble monk gave him a clear perspective on what is right and what is wrong. If he takes hold of this opportunity and thoroughly reforms his ways, he may choose the right path yet." Abbot Jingneng smiled. "Also, this humble monk never lied to him."

  Fang Mu stared at the abbot in wonder.

  Lu Dajiang stumbled out of the bank. His eyes were wide open in dazed shock.

  The moment Old Ghost saw him come through the door, he was on his way. The former pickpocket flipped his collar up and walked right into Lu Dajiang. The confused villager never realized what had just happened.

  Fang Mu had parked his jeep around the corner. As he waited, he smoked a cigarette and watched Lu Dajiang make his panicked call to the village head. Moments later, Old Ghost got into the vehicle behind him. After tossing Fang Mu the wallet, he quickly changed into the clothes lying on the backseat. Fang Mu thumbed through the wallet and then threw it back.

  "Take it," he said over his shoulder.

  Old Ghost unceremoniously pillaged the money and left the empty husk of the wallet behind. Once he had finished changing, he took the black briefcase and climbed into the front seat. Across the street, Lu Dajiang was just walking into a restaurant.

  "When do I go?" he asked.

  "Just wait a little while longer." Fang Mu started the Jeep, drove across the street and parked it in front of the restaurant. From there, they could watch Lu Dajiang eat.

  Half an hour later, Lu Dajiang was frantically searching his empty pockets for a wallet
that was not there. As the spectacle unfolded, Fang Mu clapped Old Ghost on the shoulder. "Do your thing. Then, wait for my call."

  Holding the cell phone firmly in hand, Fang Mu kept a careful eye on Old Ghost and Lu Dajiang as they talked moments later. As soon as Old Ghost rushed off to the bathroom, Fang Mu checked his watch. He let a few seconds pass, and then he dialed.

  Through the window, he could see Lu Dajiang look around the restaurant in obvious discomfort. After some hesitation, he finally reached down for the cell phone on the table.

  Fourteenth floor of the Lijing Hotel.

  Fang Mu calmly leaned against the staircase wall. His eyes were half-closed, and there wasn't the slightest hint of tension in his body. The metal door leading into the staircase opened to reveal Old Ghost. "It's the floor attendant's," he said as he handed Fang Mu a key card.

  "Get out of here." Fang Mu reached for his wallet, but Old Ghost stopped him.

  "I took my son to buy new shoes. They're very nice and warm." With a wink of the eye, Old Ghost headed down the stairs.

  Fang Mu stared after him in wonder. As he turned to the door, a smile slowly spread across his face.

  Room 1408. Fang Mu's breath came in rasping pants as he returned the blood-soaked hammer to his backpack. He walked into the bathroom.

  A burst of screams later, a stark naked Pei Lan was dragged out by her hair.

  The moment the bathroom door closed behind them, Fang Mu let go of Pei Lan's hair and quickly looked away. Pei Lan couldn't have cared less about modesty; she was staring at Liang Zehao. A thousand emotions played across her face as she looked down at her unconscious boyfriend.

  Fang Mu pulled a piece paper from his pocket and handed it to Pei Lan. "Are you up for this?" he asked.

  "Sure. Have a little faith in my acting skills," Pei Lan said as she turned to look straight at him. All that was soft and weak had left her eyes; now there was only steely resolve. "I said I would do this. And I will, for Tang Xiaomei."

  Lu Haiyan was still staring at the compressed file. Her heart had yet to stop pounding.

 

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