by Неизвестный
For the first few seconds, Jack had been certain they were talking about someone else, or he was misunderstanding the conversation. Now he knew he wasn’t. They were talking about him.
They were talking about murder.
Another sailor strode up from the docks, right toward them. Jack couldn’t hide from him, and if he budged he risked revealing himself to Nicky and the goons. He hoped the shadows would disguise him, but no such luck.
“Hey, Cap’n!” the seaman shouted, pointing right at him. “There’s that mook you been lookin’ for!”
“Paris?” Nicky replied. “Where?”
“Right there, around the corner.”
Jack was made. He could run, but he wanted nothing more than to punch Nicky right in the kisser. The big seamen were armed, as was Nicky, but Jack had insisted, aboard the sub, that Nicky give him a sidearm, and he had a feeling the time had come that he might have to use it.
“That’s right, Nicky,” he said, stepping around the corner. “I’m here.”
“Grab him!” Nicky shouted.
The big seamen charged him. Jack drew the Colt he’d been given from its holster. The men didn’t even hesitate. Jack aimed over their heads, hoping to cool them off with a warning shot. He pulled the trigger.
Nothing happened.
He pulled it again. He had checked the magazine when Nicky gave him the gun, and checked it again before he’d stepped off the sub that morning. The gun was loaded.
So Nicky had given him a faulty weapon—missing its firing pin, most likely.
And the big guys were almost on him.
Jack twirled the gun around so he was holding it by the barrel, and swung it over the arms of the nearest guy. The butt caught him in the forehead, stopping his momentum and opening a gash. The man stumbled into the other one, shoving him into the building’s wall.
The opening it gave Jack would only be momentary. He took advantage of it. He dropped the Colt, spun around, and ran. He heard the sounds of the big sailors regaining their stride behind him. In front were crowded roads that narrowed and curved without warning. Maybe Jack could lose his pursuers, but there was no guarantee he wouldn’t get hopelessly lost.
He threaded between two bicycles and a horse-drawn cart, upended a rickshaw, and knocked one leg off a fruit stand, spilling produce out into the street. A procession of Buddhist monks snaked into the road, and Jack cut between a couple of them. People were shouting at him as he raced up the street. His only comfort was that they screamed even louder at the bruisers following him.
On the far side of the monks, Jack spotted a couple of seamen heading his way from the other direction. He darted into the open doorway of a shop, bulled through to the far side, and out a back door that let into an alley. He ran headlong down the alley and found himself on another road, this one residential and as empty as the first one had been full of life. But which way to go? Left would take him farther from the docks, but he had seen seamen coming toward him from that direction before, so apparently Nicky had spread them out to search for him. He went that way just the same, until, approaching the next corner, he heard low voices speaking English. Whirling around, he raced in the opposite direction, to the next corner, then made a left.
In that fashion, he continued for a while, one road connecting with another. He occasionally saw locals, but they paid him no mind and he did his best to appear casual, slowing his pace to a hurried walk whenever others were in sight.
Finally, when at least twenty minutes had passed with no sign of the submarine’s crew, Jack decided he had shaken them. He also decided that he had been right—he had no earthly idea where he was. He supposed he hadn’t left the island, as he was still on dry land, but that did little to cheer him.
Still, Taiwan was an island, and the advantage of an island was that if you headed in any direction for long enough, you would eventually wind up at the water’s edge. Jack struck out in what he believed was a predominantly westerly direction, as well as he could on the city’s winding streets.
Soon enough he smelled the sea air cutting through the city’s evening aromas. He picked up his pace, and within minutes, he glimpsed open water past the end of a block. For the first time, he allowed himself a deep breath, relief flooding through him with the oxygen he took in. He didn’t know what Nicky’s game was, or why he wanted Jack dead. But for the moment, at least, he wouldn’t have to worry about it.
He reached the end of the block. Across the next road was a long pier, stretching into the water. He wasn’t sure where he was, but it wasn’t near the dry-dock. Time to start figuring out his next move.
He took a step into the road, and suddenly shapes parted from the shadows around him. Others emerged from across the way. In the dim glow of light from nearby windows, Jack did not recognize those who surrounded him, at first. But as soon as one spoke, he realized who they were.
The pirates.
Jack fought, but not for long. He took a rifle stock to the skull and a sword thrust to the ribs that didn’t sink in far but hurt just the same, and then there were so many hands on him, gripping his arms and neck and hair, that he knew further combat was pointless and might just wind up with him even more injured. Once he realized they weren’t going to kill him—that knock on the head could have been much harder, and the stab had been intentionally pulled—he surrendered.
The pirates hauled him, less roughly than they might have, through more of the city’s streets and into a building that was, to Jack’s eye, indistinguishable from a hundred others he had seen that day. There they forced him up a narrow, winding staircase and through an unmarked door.
On the other side was a chamber of such decadent luxury that it made Chen’s cabin on the junk look squalid. Dozens of candles—maybe hundreds—illuminated walls surfaced in a crimson velvety fabric, textured and rich. Unseen incense lent the air a woody aroma. The furnishings tended toward low, soft couches and dark tables holding the candles, some set back in shaded nooks to provide privacy for whoever sat there. Other areas were simply covered in mounds of silken pillows. A wide, arched doorway led into what looked like a bedroom, similarly furnished except for a bed as big as some apartments Jack had seen.
“What are we doing here?” Jack demanded.
One of the pirates cuffed him across the mouth. “Silence!” he said.
Jack raised a fist to strike back, but pirates grabbed him, pinning his arms to his sides. “On your knees, dog,” one growled. The hands holding him tried to push him down. He struggled, then, kicked and wrenched his right hand free. He had a grip on one guy’s throat when a woman’s voice broke through from the next room.
“Stop!” she called. “He does not have to be on his knees. Send him in.”
“You heard her,” someone said. “Go to her.”
“To who?” Jack asked.
“Who do you think?”
“The Dragon’s Daughter?”
“You are not worthy of speaking that name.”
“She said to send him in,” someone else said.
Jack felt another fist hit the back of his skull, where the rifle had. There was going to be a nasty bruise there.
But the pirates released him. He could have tried for the front door, but he doubted he would get two steps toward it. Instead, he shrugged and passed through the open doorway.
As soon as he was inside, a big door swung shut behind him. He spun around and saw a woman there—one he could only assume was the Dragon’s Daughter herself.
She was slender and tall and built; he could tell that much, although her long, silk dress was buttoned to the neck and she wore a hat with a dark veil that that obscured her face. She took a sudden step toward him. Jack got the impression that she was used to people flinching away when she did that, but he held his ground.
“I’m pleased that you wouldn’t kneel for me, Jack Paris,” she said. She spoke English with only the faintest trace of an accent. Her voice was breathy, and somehow familiar.
“I wouldn’t care if you were the Queen of England. I don’t kneel for anyone.”
“Nor should you. Most of the men I meet here are not so courageous.”
“Guess you don’t meet a lot of Americans.”
“I’ve met my share. They’re not all as strong as you.”
“You know nothing about me,” Jack said.
“That, Jack, is not true. Not at all.”
That voice...he couldn’t place it until she peeled back the veil, removed the hat, and tossed it to one side. At the same moment, she took another step forward, and another. Jack stood between her and the huge bed, watching her approach, admiring the sinuous movements of her slinky form.
When she showed her face, then he knew.
“Renata.”
A smile stole across her lips. “You remember me.”
“Of course I do.”
“Fondly, I hope.”
“Mostly.”
“Only that?”
“Last time I saw you, you were driving away in Hal Yardley’s Cadillac. You stuck your arm out the window and waved goodbye. Guess I didn’t forget, did I?”
“No.” She bit her lower lip, and suddenly Jack was in high school again. She had always done that, a nervous habit when she was called upon in class and didn’t know the answer, or invited to the blackboard. “No, I can see you haven’t.”
“But I’m not sure you’re the Renata Mercer I remember.”
“I am not. Not entirely.”
“She believed in peace and brotherhood. She didn’t want war. I can’t see her running a pirate crew.”
“Much has changed, Jack. In my life. In the world. I was an innocent girl. Foolish, perhaps.”
“I don’t think you were foolish. I think you were smarter then. How can you think this will end well? Pirate queens don’t live forever, I’m pretty sure.”
“You’re right. That—the end—is not something I can allow myself to think about.”
“If you don’t, who will? Those hard cases outside, guarding the door?”
“My crew? I keep them for muscle, not for brains. But if you want to leave, Jack, they won’t stop you.”
He started to step around her. “Sounds good to me.”
She put a hand against his chest. “After I have told you what I need to,” she said. “I didn’t have you brought here merely to look at you again. Although I must admit, it does my eyes and my heart good to see an old friend. A handsome old friend.”
Images of Josie Taylor ran through his mind. The way her eyes looked into his, so deeply it was as if she were reading him from the inside out. The way her dark, wavy hair looked spread across his pillow in the morning light. “Look, Renata, I don’t know what your game is, but I’m—I have somebody. She’s very special to me. So…”
“Did you think I was throwing myself at you, Jack? Offering myself?”
“I’m still trying to figure that out.”
“As I said, Jack, you will be free to leave. But I went to great lengths to bring you here, and I ask you to give me a few minutes of your time, at least.”
“I don’t see that I have a lot of choice, Renata.”
“Sit, then. We’re old friends, Jack, you do not have to stand in my presence.”
He looked around the room. There was nowhere to sit except on the bed. He did, and she moved in and perched next to him. They weren’t touching, but he could feel the heat wafting off her.
“I owe you an explanation, Jack. When we knew each other, back in Illinois, I had no idea what my background truly was. After you joined the Army Air Forces I came to China, to visit my great-grandfather. My mother’s grandfather. I knew he was a wealthy man, important here. What I did not know was that he was a criminal mastermind, a pirate leader known as the Dragon and feared throughout the Orient. I ended up staying with him much longer than I expected. He brought me into his organization, made me his chief lieutenant. When he died, it was only natural that I take over.”
“Running the family store,” Jack said.
“In a way. I’m good at it. I discovered what I was meant to do.”
“You could have done anything, Renata. You’re ambitious, beautiful, and smart.”
“We shall never know. This is what I have chosen. This is the life I lead. But it’s not what you think, Jack.”
“I think you’re a common criminal. A thug and a murderess.”
“Yes, this is what you believe. But you’re wrong. I do lead a crew of pirates. But mine is piracy for a cause.”
“The cause of lining your own pockets?”
“The cause of fighting the Martians and their Japanese allies. Everything we take, I turn around and use for that effort. I have a lovely, comfortable apartment, yes?”
“A little too gaudy for my taste.”
“That Midwestern ethic of simplicity, of course. Still, my apartment is inside a plain building. Inexpensive. I don’t take more of the treasure we steal for myself than is absolutely necessary to maintain my image. People must fear the Dragon’s Daughter, and people must believe that she is a sybarite, decadent and depraved. But the vast majority of our efforts are against Japanese ships and ports. My crews attack them, and I fund other efforts that share our goal. I supply information about Martian and Japanese movements and defenses to the Martian Killers. This is the Orient, Jack, and I am the Dragon’s Daughter. Little happens here that escapes my notice.”
“So you’re really on our side? That’s why you had me kidnapped?”
“My men were simply bringing you to me, on my instructions. Then you got away. Killing many of my people in the bargain, I might add.”
“I didn’t do that.”
“Yes, I know. Nicky did that. He...he’s not the ally you must have hoped he would be.”
“So I gathered.”
“But I can be. Jack, I can be your best friend here.”
“What’s it going to cost me?”
She looked genuinely hurt. She gripped his thigh, her nails digging into his flesh through his flight suit. The suit would have to be burned, if he ever got a chance to take it off. Laundering wouldn’t do the job anymore. “We’re on the same side, Jack!”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m sure you have a price.”
“All I want from you is the latest information, Jack. Let me know what the Martian Killers are planning in the region, so that I can make sure my efforts complement theirs.”
“What they’re planning?”
“War is expensive. I don’t want to duplicate their efforts, nor do I want my people to be in their way. But with your connections at headquarters, you could sit at my right hand, help guide the effort here. Together, Jack, we would be unstoppable. The Martians wouldn’t have a chance!”
“I don’t know, Renata…”
“Jack, how can I convince you? You know about Benjamin Lee, of course? The American scientist? He was on a freighter, headed for America, with vital research. He had proof that the Martians have an underwater base, from which they have been terrorizing the shipping lanes. The ship went down, but I can help you find the evidence he was carrying.”
This was what he had come for in the first place. If she really knew how to find him, he had to play along. “It’s too late for him, isn’t it?”
“Yes, of course. But not for his research.”
“Can we still retrieve it?”
“I’m certain that we can.”
“You can take me there?”
“We can go together, yes. You help me, I help you. Together we’ll defeat the Martians, Jack. Drive them from Asia, reclaim the Pacific.”
“And all I have to do is tell you whatever I know about Martian Killer plans for the region.”
“Yes. Jack, it will be so—”
“Sorry, Renata,” he said. “Can’t do it.”
She didn’t miss a beat. She grasped the neckline of her silk sheath dress and yanked, tearing the fasteners and exposing deep cleavage and the black lace that cupped it. She pressed her
self against him, her breath hot on his cheek. Her hand moved on his thigh with ever more urgency, and the other went to the back of his neck. “Jack, please. We could be together—in the way we never were in school. We would be a team, partners in every way.”
“I’ve got a woman, Renata. I love her. So that’s not going to work, either.”
“I know all the lovemaking secrets of the Orient. I can show you things you have never dreamed of. Things she wouldn’t do for you in a million years.”
“You don’t even know her.”
“I don’t need to.”
“Forget it, Renata. It’s not gonna fly.”
“But why not?”
What could he tell her? That she wanted to know the same things Nicky had—things he didn’t intend to tell anyone? That although he might once have trusted her, that trust had vanished long ago? That the more she tried to get him to forget Josie, the more he couldn’t?
Renata’s lips were on his cheek, his neck. He rose from the bed, took several steps away from her. “Give it up,” he said.
“Fine.” She frowned and clapped her hands twice, loudly.
The door burst open and the pirates swarmed in. Jack stormed toward the door. Half a dozen men grabbed him and he carried them, like a receiver carrying a football toward the goal line with the opposing team’s tackles hanging off him. He snatched away one man’s sword and cut a swath through them, but he took several wounds, too. Finally, a gun barrel pointed toward his face stopped him. He could have kept going—one more thrust with the sword would drop a pirate into the man with the gun, possibly throwing off his aim; anyway, it was a chance Jack would have taken—but he realized that another escape would just leave him back where he had started. On Taiwan, without allies or resources, and still in the dark as to what exactly was going on here. When he did make it back home, he wanted to be able to tell his friends something useful. He dropped the sword and raised his hands.
“Tie him up,” Renata said.
The pirates brought a straight-backed wooden chair in from someplace—not the kind of thing Jack would have thought could be found anywhere in the apartment—and pushed him down into it. He tensed his muscles, trying to ensure that they could not bind him tightly, but they saw through it and cinched the bonds anyway. His hands were behind his back, sticking out between two rails of the chair’s back. Thin rope cut into his wrists.