by Dan Lee
‘Time to practise control of centre line,’ said Chang, ignoring Carl’s last comment.
‘Six of you to far end of kwoon, please.’
Matt was among the six who moved to the far end. He noticed that their white mat had been ruled with faint yellow lines of chalk, like the lines on a running track. Each lane was no more than fifty centimetres wide.
‘Stand in lane and face opponent at other end,’ said Chang. Matt looked down the lane and saw Olivier facing him, some twenty-five metres away. ‘You must advance and face off – spar with opponent, attempt to drive back. You may use any style but you must concentrate on centre line. All attacks to be concentrated on that narrow area in front of you. You will stay inside your lane. Failure to do so will result in punishment – to run thirty times round perimeter of kwoon!’
He clapped his hands. ‘Begin.’
Matt advanced. In the lanes to either side of him he was dimly conscious of the other students advancing as well, but he had eyes only for the looming figure of Olivier. It seemed strange to advance in this way, his whole body facing Olivier; he had to fight the temptation to turn side-on.
They closed. Matt parried a kick from Olivier, countered with a spear-hand thrust, which was blocked. He and Olivier knew each other’s styles well and were evenly matched. For a while neither gained any advantage. Matt felt hemmed in, not being able to move outside the lane and vary the angle of attack. Then he saw that Olivier had left his side exposed; Matt swept his foot in a roundhouse kick aimed at Olivier’s ribs. Olivier saw it coming and blocked hard. The impact made Olivier step back, but Matt was also thrown off-balance.
‘Matt!’ said Chang sharply. ‘You breached centre line, your foot went outside your lane.’
‘But –’
‘Thirty laps!’
‘Bad luck!’ whispered Olivier.
It seemed harsh. After all, Matt hadn’t actually stepped out of the lane, merely allowed his foot to stray outside it. But he didn’t complain. He set off on his thirty laps.
Matt wasn’t the only one to struggle with the centre line. He was soon joined by others running laps. First Wolfgang, then Lola, then Abdul, then Olivier, who had been re-matched with another partner, then Drago. Though Drago was no slouch, Matt had noticed while running his laps – he held his own against Shawn for a long time. But Shawn was adept, maintaining his balance on the back foot, never looking like straying outside the lines, striking hard and fast. After Drago, Shawn got the better of Catarina and then Carl, and by the end of the session he was the only student who had not been awarded the thirty-lap penalty.
Everyone was exhausted.
‘No more face-offs today,’ announced Master Chang. ‘Session is nearly finished. We will finish with forty press-ups. Go!’
Matt groaned and threw a glance at the other Tigers. He lowered himself to the mat and began the press-ups. One… two… three…
‘What’s with Chang then?’ asked Catarina. ‘He’s never given us a session like that before.’
‘I know!’ said Olivier. ‘Did you notice he kept talking about “enemies”, not “opponents”? And street-fighting situations? What’s that all about?’
The Tangshan Tigers had gathered in Shawn and Olivier’s room in the recreation hour after supper.
‘And why did he work us so hard?’ said Catarina. ‘Face-offs, punishment laps, press-ups – I feel like I’ve played a football game, run a marathon and gone ten rounds in a boxing ring!’
‘He wouldn’t be doing this if he didn’t think it was necessary,’ said Matt. ‘We know by now that Chang’s always got a reason for what he does.’
‘But what on earth can it be?’ said Olivier.
‘Could it be something to do with Drago?’ said Shawn. ‘Maybe Chang’s expecting him to pull another stunt, wants us to stay sharp in case we have to spring into action again? Chang is taking a risk giving him a second chance.’
‘Could be…’ said Matt doubtfully. He hoped Shawn was right, that it was no more than that. Ye t the explanation did not seem quite convincing. If that was the case, why train the whole squad in this way, since it was only the Tangshan Tigers who knew what a threat Drago could be? Why train Drago himself? And besides, why should the four of them need this kind of training to be prepared for whatever Drago might do? Drago was sneaky and devious, but they could handle him in a fight without needing to know the centre line theory.
There was something else, some danger Chang foresaw, that he could not or would not warn them of at this time. Chang Sifu had said he’d never willingly leave them. So would he be forced to? Danger was lurking, Matt felt sure of it. And this time the Tangshan Tigers might have to face it on their own.
A NEW COACH
The sun was shining through the high windows of the Beijing International Academy as Matt and the Tangshan Tigers made their way to the kwoon for early training the next day.
‘Do you reckon we’ll do more of that centre line training today?’ asked Catarina.
‘I hope so,’ said Shawn. ‘I could get into that.’
Matt was feeling better about things this morning. Chang Sifu was putting them through some extra-hard training. What was so sinister about that?
Drago was waiting at the door of the kwoon. He was in his martial arts suit, leaning against the wall. He gave a nod to the Tangshan Tigers. Matt nodded back, though he wasn’t sure whether Drago’s greeting had been friendly or sarcastic.
‘Still with us then?’ said Catarina.
‘Master Chang said I could continue to train with the squad.’
‘Here we are again, guys!’ came Carl’s loud, brash voice. ‘I wonder what crazy nonsense Chang’s got lined up for us today – maybe he wants us to fight with our hands tied behind our backs, or –’
‘The centre line theory is not nonsense!’ said Shawn.
‘Well, I wouldn’t expect you to criticize your lord and master,’ said Carl sarcastically. ‘I tell you what, though, at least he made us work out yesterday – all those press-ups. At last the old man’s making us break a sweat, and about time too!’
It was nearly eight o’clock. Lola, Wolfgang and Dani arrived, and shortly afterwards Abdul, Jahmal and Vincent. Master Chang expected everyone to be on time. He was often there well in advance of the students, meditating and exercising alone, and always opened the door to them at eight on the dot. But today eight o’clock came and the door remained closed. Strange, thought Matt. He peeped through the glass panel in the door.
‘Can’t see him,’ he reported.
‘Do you think he’s OK?’ said Lola.
‘Maybe he had to go and see Mr Wu about something,’ suggested Catarina.
‘Or maybe he’s all tired out after yesterday!’ said Carl. ‘He is getting on a bit, after all.’
‘Yeah?’ said Shawn. ‘I bet you couldn’t keep up with him at any exercise!’
‘I bet I could!’
‘Right!’ said a loud, deep voice, making them all jump.
A tall, broad-shouldered man with a muscular build stood before them, his chin thrust forward aggressively, his lip curled in a sneer. He had a shaved head and wore a karate gi tied with a black belt. ‘Let’s get on with it.’
He shoved open the door and marched in. ‘Come on then!’ His booming voice echoed back from the ceiling of the kwoon. ‘Get in here!’
The team hurried after him.
‘Form your lines!’ boomed the man.
Most of the students scurried to line up in two files. Matt didn’t. Where was Chang?
‘Who is this guy?’ whispered Matt, hanging back.
‘No idea,’ said Olivier.
‘I don’t get it,’ muttered Catarina.
‘Nor do I,’ said Shawn. ‘Chang didn’t say anything –’
‘Hey!’ roared the man. ‘You four – I told you to get in line, and when I give an order I expect to see some action! Fifty press-ups – now!’
Matt and the other Tigers hesitated.
‘If you don’t jump to it, I’ll make it a hundred!’
There didn’t seem to be any choice.
‘Who does he think he is?’ Catarina whispered to the others. ‘Some sort of sergeant major?’
Matt’s lips twitched, but he knew he could not afford to let a smile escape. The Tangshan Tigers threw themselves down and started on the press-ups. Matt felt stiff after yesterday’s work-out, but he gritted his teeth and pushed against the floorboards, feeling his muscles strain.
‘Right!’ said the newcomer, addressing the whole squad. ‘Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Sensei Mike Ryan.’
Matt heard Carl say ‘Cool!’ It sounded as though he’d heard of Ryan.
‘You’d probably like to know a bit about me,’ went on Ryan loudly. ‘So here goes.’ He took out a remote-control handset and pressed a button. A flat screen smoothly descended from the ceiling. Matt watched as he continued to press his hands into the floor, raising himself up and down, keeping his back straight and his toes curled beneath his body. A picture of Ryan appeared on the screen. He was standing on a podium with a gold medal.
‘I’m a karate black belt, fifth dan. Three times world heavyweight karate champion.’
There was a clip of Ryan in competition, putting together a fantastic combination of kicks and punches, knocking his opponent clean off his feet. Then there was a roar of applause from the crowd that had been watching.
‘That was when I won the heavyweight championship for the third time,’ said Ryan. ‘I’m also a second-degree tae kwon-do black belt. Finalist in American championships two years running.’ Another clip of Ryan fighting, this time in a tae kwon-do bout. As a practitioner himself, Matt could appreciate the speed and skill with which he fought. He was so transfixed, he almost forgot to continue with his press-ups. He lowered himself to the floor. A drip of sweat fell from the tip of his nose on to the floorboards and his arm muscles were trembling.
‘When will this end?’ panted Olivier. Matt couldn’t even answer him, he was too exhausted.
‘I’m also trained in wrestling and ju-jitsu,’ Ryan continued. ‘And I’ve coached the karate team at Stanford University.’ Another picture, of Ryan standing, arms folded, in the centre of a team of students. ‘So you could say I’ve got quite a CV.’ He clicked another button and the screen went blank. ‘Any questions?’
Carl’s hand shot up. ‘What was it like winning the world karate championship three times?’
‘Hard work. But it was worth it. And it got better each time.’
‘Do you still compete?’
‘I pick my competitions more carefully now, but, yeah, I still compete.’
‘How did you find time to learn so many different martial arts?’ That was from Vincent.
‘Dedication.’ Matt looked up and saw the smile of self-satisfaction that lit up Ryan’s face. I’m not sure I like this man, he thought.
‘What’s the most effective form of martial art?’ asked Andrei Drago. Matt had to admit that was a good question. He waited to see how Ryan would respond.
‘You need a combination. Knowing any one stand-up form, like karate or tae kwon-do, is good. Knowing two is better – you can keep opponents guessing. But you also need a thorough knowledge of a take-down style, like wrestling or ju-jitsu, if you’re to be really dangerous.’
Matt was on press-up twenty-six now. His muscles felt as though they were tearing apart. Even so, he managed to gasp out: ‘Did Chang Sifu send you to talk to us?’
‘No, he didn’t,’ said Ryan curtly. ‘There’s one very obvious question no one’s asked yet. Don’t you want to know why I’m here?’
‘OK,’ said Carl taking a step forward. ‘Why are you here?’
‘Say hello to your new teacher,’ said Ryan.
Matt fell face down on the floor. What was this show-off doing, saying he was their teacher? Had Chang Sifu abandoned them, after all? Ryan glared at him.
‘Get up and finish those press-ups!’ he barked. ‘Now listen up, everyone. If you all do exactly what I say, we’ll get on fine. If not, look out for trouble. I’m going to work you hard, harder than you’ve ever been worked before. Because that’s what you need.’
There was a moment’s pause. Ryan stood, hands on hips, sizing up the group. He walked over to the Tangshan Tigers, who were struggling with the last few press-ups.
‘Pathetic!’ boomed Ryan. ‘You’re not in shape; you’re a disgrace! I can do fifty press-ups one-handed without breaking sweat! Now, get up, you four, and join the lines.’
‘Excuse me, sir,’ ventured Matt. He was desperate to know what had happened to Chang. ‘What about Chang Sifu?’
Ryan stared at Matt without speaking for a moment. Then he said: ‘Don’t worry about Chang. He’s history.’
The Tangshan Tigers looked at each other in dismay. Matt saw Catarina compress her lips.
‘As I understand it,’ said Ryan, ‘you managed to win your last tournament, but only just. It could have gone the other way. You shouldn’t be scraping through tournaments like that, you should be trampling all over the opposition! I aim to toughen you lot up – so let’s get started. Jogging on the spot now!’
The students started to jog at once.
‘Faster! Get those knees up, get them right up!’
The jogging went on for five minutes. Matt, already tired from the press-ups, felt ready to drop. He saw Shawn gasping for breath, Catarina’s head drooping, Olivier jogging slower and slower. Lola was groaning aloud.
‘And now,’ shouted Ryan, ‘squat thrusts! Like this!’
He dropped to his hands and began pumping his legs violently backwards and forwards between his arms.
The students also dropped to their hands. Matt’s biceps screamed in protest. Everyone began moving their legs back and forth slowly.
‘Faster!’ roared Ryan. ‘You can do better than that!’
The squat thrusts went on for another five minutes.
‘Now sit-ups!’ shouted Ryan. He swivelled on to his back, stretched his legs out, put his hands behind his head, and started doing sit-ups, bending forward fast and furiously so his head bobbed against his knees. ‘Like this! Fifty of them! Hands behind heads – anyone uses their arms to cheat, it’s fifty press-ups for the whole squad!’
Somehow Matt got through his sit-ups. But as he lowered his back for the final time, he felt a muscle in his stomach burn with pain. Matt collapsed to the floor. One by one, the rest of the squad slumped to the floor, groaning, trying to recover their breath. Matt’s stomach muscles ached badly and something had definitely pulled. He stretched his arms above his head and winced. He’d never enjoyed a training session less.
He was prepared to work his heart out for Chang, but Ryan seemed nothing more than a bully. The session felt more like a punishment than training.
‘All right, stop panting like that,’ said Ryan. He had barely broken sweat. ‘You’re not fit, you lot, that’s your trouble.’
He scanned the breathless students in front of him. ‘There are twelve of you. But there should be eleven in the squad. Who’s the odd man out?’
‘It’s Andrei Drago, Sensei,’ said Carl. Matt could tell he was impressed by Sensei Ryan. ‘Andrei’s just joined us from another school, and Ch– our old instructor said he could train with us.’ Carl didn’t even want to say Chang’s name any more, Matt noted bitterly.
Ryan addressed Drago. ‘I’ve heard about you.’
‘Oh?’ Drago looked uneasy, biting his lip. Maybe he was wondering if Ryan knew about his activities in Kyoto.
‘Yeah. Desperate to get in the team, aren’t you? I like your style. I want people who are determined to win in my team!’
What? thought Matt. So nearly poisoning people with sleeping gas is some sort of recommendation?
Drago looked proud of himself. ‘I’m determined, Sensei. I’ll do whatever it takes.’
Ryan nodded. ‘That’s good. Now, we’re going to work on power today – and we’ll use this power d
rill as a new try-out. In my view, it’s good to have try-outs regularly. Keeps you on your toes, stops you taking your place for granted.’
Ryan went over to the equipment room and threw the door open. ‘Got some padded body protectors in here. Everybody grab one – you’re going to need it.’
As he buckled on his body protector, Matt’s thoughts went back to Chang again. How could this have happened? And why? His feeling yesterday that something wasn’t right had been spot on, after all.
Shawn grimaced at him.
‘We’ve got to find out where Chang’s gone!’ said Matt.
‘I know,’ said Shawn. ‘But how?’
‘Right, everybody pair off and find a space on the mat!’ boomed Ryan. ‘You and you together, you and you, yes, and you two…’
Matt found himself paired with Carl.
‘Hey, I bet you don’t feel so special now you’re not the coach’s pet!’ sneered Carl.
‘Don’t talk to me,’ said Matt. ‘Let’s just do the drill.’
‘Stand one arm’s length apart!’ said Ryan. ‘Using the style you’re used to, the drill is to strike your opponent in the target area of the body as many times as you can and as hard as you can. Obviously you may block your opponent’s attacks, but what I’m looking for here is aggression. And power. The harder you hit, the more chance you have of keeping your place in the squad! Right, let’s go!’
Without any warning, Carl landed a thumping strike on Matt’s chest. Even through the padded body protector Matt felt the force of it.
Carl grinned. ‘Pretty good, aren’t I?’
Soon the kwoon echoed to the sound of fists and feet smacking against body protectors.
Matt knew right away that he wasn’t concentrating. Chang had always taught them the importance of focusing. But he couldn’t focus – his mind was racing with the reasons why Chang might have disappeared. Was he in danger? And he was also tired from the extra fifty press-ups he’d done and Carl hadn’t. At first, he responded well to Carl’s attacks, striking back and getting a couple of his trademark tae kwon-do high kicks in. But as the fight continued, he felt his torn stomach muscle getting tighter and tighter. That burning pain had started again and Matt struggled to hold himself upright. He was injured, there was no doubt about it. And as he brought his arm up in a block, he felt a stitch pull at his side. No! Matt thought. He couldn’t have an injury now; Ryan would just accuse him of being weak. And more importantly he had a mystery to investigate.