The Gaze of Caprice (The Caprice Trilogy Book 1)

by Cole Reid

  Mr. Li moved sideways against a container that put him in front of the minivan. He turned without hesitation and opened fire. The driver wasn’t hit by the first bullet or the second but the third. The fourth hit its mark and the fifth did more damage than either. The sixth backed it up. The seventh missed its mark because Mr. Li was moving on his feet. The driver went down but the man who came out of the sliding door returned fire before running. Mr. Li couldn’t go after him. He was outside the fence. Mr. Li was inside. The man ran and fired aimlessly. Mr. Li tracked him hiding behind the containers. He opened fire as the man came into view, firing through the chain-linked fence. The man hit the ground but Mr. Li kept firing. Liu Ping drove the Escort behind the minivan. With the window down, Huang Sitian fired his MP5 at the windows and doors of the minivan as Liu Ping pulled the car around. Huang Sitian continued to fire into the minivan as Liu Ping parked the Escort thirty feet away. With a steady shot, Huang Sitian fired into the rear gas tank. The tank exploded as Huang Sitian used up his magazine. The heat and force from the explosion washed over Huang Sitian’s face. The low caliber MP5 didn’t have the luxury of firing from a safe distance. As the fire erupted, so did the voice of the man inside the minivan. Liu Ping drove the car around the back of the minivan for inspection. Huang Sitian reloaded and stepped out of the Escort. He walked fifteen feet toward the cooking car and seasoned it with more bullets. The man inside the minivan wasn’t hit by the first melee of bullets. He shrunk into his seat and decided to wait out his attackers. He was outgunned with a semi-automatic Beretta pistol. But the exploding car broke his back, leaving him immobile in the front seat. His screaming continued as Huang Sitian fired into the passenger door. The disharmonic sound of blaze, belch and bullets suddenly soften as Huang Sitian spent his last magazine. The silence of the MP5 revealed another sound, the flames. The sound of the man’s screams had stopped before the sound of the gun. Huang Sitian climbed back into the Escort.

  Mr. Li found himself alone in the rail yard. He didn’t notice the Escort until he saw the moving shadow against the blaze in the parking lot. He used the key to let himself out of the northwest lot and walked around to the front entrance of the rail yard. The Escort followed him to the entrance. He motioned to Huang Sitian to stay in the front seat as he sat in the back. Liu Ping drove down the street to a familiar spot, the place where he dropped Mr. Li and Yi Le so they could approach the rail yard from up river. The spot was a cement culvert that gave way to the river. As the Escort drove up, the headlight beams broke against the wet bodies of a man and a woman. Yi Le stood with a dazed version of Xiaofeng. She was tired, sleep-deprived, underfed and dehydrated. She imagined she saw her brother. But came to consciousness with a different man standing by her side. He comforted her by saying he was a friend of her brother. The headlights threw everything into disorientation. She stood there and walked with the man toward the light. Her brother’s voice came from nowhere. But it was her brother. He said the word, jie. His silhouette emerged from the light and took her arm. She thought she recognized him and she thought she didn’t.

  • • •

  The ride was bumpy, internally not externally. Xiaofeng was still dazed but sobered up around other people. It was reassuring to hear her native language. The car stopped at a gas station. Huang Sitian went inside and came back with a bottle of water and some sandwiches. He handed them to Mr. Li before getting into the car. Mr. Li gave the water and food to Xiaofeng with two words, jie; chi—sister, eat. Xiaofeng was dazed but not confused. She connected two dots. She remembered being kidnapped and now being rescued. The kidnapping was related to her brother. She was taken the day after he showed up. The kidnappers had mentioned him. She thought while she ate. The Escort pulled up to a medium range hotel near Sherman Oaks. Mr. Li and Xiaofeng got out of the car on the driver’s side. Liu Ping put the Escort in gear and drove away. Mr. Li put his arm around Xiaofeng and walked into the hotel. She felt awkward with the arm on her shoulder. It was Los Angeles; tattoos were common but his arms were new. The day before she saw nothing. Now his arms looked dipped in ink. With food and water in her system she was more cogent but couldn’t understand the tattoos. The automatic doors made Xiaofeng feel like she had rejoined society. She stared down at the carpet as they walked into the lobby.

  “Are you staying here?” asked Xiaofeng.

  “No,” said Mr. Li. Xiaofeng watched Mr. Li walk to the counter. She stood a few feet behind him. She felt it was a safe distance. Mr. Li told the clerk he needed a double room for two nights and checked in under the name Reagan Lee. He turned to see his sister. She had her gaze fixed on his arms. She raised her eyes to match his. Her arms were folded across her chest. Her shirt was still wet.

  “Come,” said Mr. Li.

  “No,” said Xiaofeng.

  “Come on,” said Mr. Li.

  “I’m not going with you,” said Xiaofeng. The conversation was in Mandarin, a positive. If the desk clerk understood the conversation he would have called the police.

  “Jie, I’ll explain everything but I won’t talk here,” said Mr. Li.

  “Take me home,” said Xiaofeng.

  “I can’t,” said Mr. Li, “It’s not safe for you there.”

  “Why Xiaoyu?” said Xiaofeng, “Why isn’t it safe for me there? What have you done?”

  “I’ll tell you everything,” said Mr. Li, “But I’m going upstairs. You can go home but they took your wallet and cards. That much I’m sure of. Good luck to you.” Mr. Li turned and headed toward the hotel elevator. Seeing the obvious trap, Xiaofeng followed him to the elevator, tainted with a similar feeling. He was always several steps ahead, as far back as she could remember. She followed him to the elevator, several steps behind. The elevator ride was quick but the etiquette was mired. Mr. Li stood on one side of the elevator. Xiaofeng stood on the other side. She let him lead the way out.

  The room was simple. Xiaofeng waited outside the room. When Mr. Li realized there was no shadow behind him. He turned around and looked at her. The expression on her face was one he hadn’t seen before. If he had, it would have confused him still. There was a mixture of knowing and needing but confusion. It was the look of changed circumstances and changed opinion. Truthfully, she didn’t know what to think. She stood as still as her eyes. His eyes stood on hers. There was no clear resolve in either of them.

  “I’m telling the truth now,” he said. The reassurance was enough to make her step inside the room. She walked passed Mr. Li without looking at him. The room was clean and smelled of cleaner. Xiaofeng walked toward the far bed and sat down. Her eyes were open but she didn’t look at Mr. Li. She looked down at the floor and studied the carpet with her eyes while her mind studied the situation. She looked up and saw Mr. Li’s tattooed arms. Mr. Li could see the pattern of her eyes looking over his tattoos.

  “You wanna know,” said Mr. Li.

  “Tell me what you want,” said Xiaofeng, “As long as it’s true.” Mr. Li looked at the wall. It was a light beige color. He searched the surface for a cue. It had to make sense. He needed a place to begin.

  “Uncle Li Xing worked for the Hong Kong Triads,” said Mr. Li, “Remember he was there when you left for Beijing. It wasn’t a visit. He stole from the Triads and needed space to hide. He brought the money with him and grandpa found it. Even he wasn’t foolish enough to believe the money was clean. I heard them fighting about it. Grandpa told Uncle to leave. You remember him. He wasn’t going to leave with hugs and handshakes. He left in the middle of the night so no one would notice. I waited up for him. When he left, I followed him to the train station. I went with him to Hong Kong. He used me to try to work his way back into favor with the head of his branch of Triads, a man called Uncle Woo. Uncle Woo washed his hands of Li Xing. He was in favor of letting the young blood make the decisions. He decided to keep me though. The Triads take in kids off the street. That’s what I was. They took me to a storage building where they kept their street kids. They made us fight. There was so much bru
tal frustration in me then I could have fought them all, but I didn’t have to. I fought three or four of them. Then they put me on the other side of the building so the others wouldn’t bother me. I didn’t know anything. In the morning they took me to the island. There was a man there at the old fort. It was a tradition, an old Triad custom. They had candles and there was a guy, this tattoo artist. He didn’t need a pattern. He just drew on my skin for hours. And this is what it looked like. It’s faded now.” Wendy looked on and thought about all that he had been through and she never knew any of it. He was so young and fighting. He was tattooed.

  “Why did they do that to you?” asked Xiaofeng. He looked at her.

  “It’s an honor among Triads,” said Mr. Li, “There are eight branches for Hong Kong. Each branch can have only one person with this tattoo at a time. They call him a Jade Soldier. He guards the Dragon Head, the leader.”

  “To do what?” asked Xiaofeng, “To kill?”

  “The Jade Soldier does what he has to,” said Mr. Li.

  “To kill people,” said Xiaofeng.

  “Yes,” said Mr. Li.

  “So you’re a Triad?” said Xiaofeng.

  “I was,” said Mr. Li.

  “And what are you now?” asked Xiaofeng.

  “Hidden,” said Mr. Li, “I’m sorry they got to you. I’ll take care of it.”

  “You mean they were Triads,” said Xiaofeng.

  “No,” said Mr. Li, “They were CIA agents. The guys in the car with us were Triads.”

  “Why is the CIA involved with you?” asked Xiaofeng.

  “They came to me in Hong Kong,” said Mr. Li, “They offered me a deal to avoid prison. I took the deal.”

  “Why were you going to prison?” asked Xiaofeng. Mr. Li looked at her. She looked away.

  “You killed someone,” said Xiaofeng. Mr. Li looked down at the floor.

  “So this is what you do Xiaoyu,” said Xiaofeng, “You kill people.”

  “No,” said Mr. Li.

  “Then what?” asked Xiaofeng.

  “I kill everything,” said Mr. Li.

  “Mama sacrificed to bring you into this world,” said Xiaofeng, “You have no idea how much was given up for you. She made me promise to take care of you. My mama lay dying and told me to take care of you. And you’re a killer. You kill people.”

  “What do you want to do?” said Mr. Li, “Leave? Huh, is that what you’re going to do? This time, there’s no problem. This time, I won’t blame you. This time, I can take care of myself. This time, I won’t cry.” Xiaofeng looked down at the floor. A resurgent guilt took her voice but just for the moment.

  “It was my fault for leaving. I accept that. But you had options and choices to make. You didn’t have to be a killer. You could have chosen something else,” said Xiaofeng.

  “I did what I had to do, exactly what I had to,” said Mr. Li, “I survived. You couldn’t understand that. You can’t understand that. With you, you ran. You don’t understand what you do when you have to survive. You ran away for better opportunities. Survival was the opportunity for me. You can’t understand this because you’re weak, just like her.” Xiaofeng stood up from her seated position. She moved as quick as Mr. Li could. She held the same fury when facing an opponent. She faced him. And she slapped him where his tattoo wasn’t, on his face.

  “How can you talk about her?” said Xiaofeng, “You never knew her. She was stronger than you ever knew, better than you ever knew; better than us both.”

  “You say I’m a killer,” said Mr. Li, “So was she. She just couldn’t go through with it.”

  “What are you talking about?” said Xiaofeng.

  “She used to go to the hospital and wait outside and think about going inside to have them cut me out,” said Mr. Li, “She had murder on her mind too.”

  “Who told you that?” asked Xiaofeng.

  “I felt it,” said Mr. Li, “It’s how I’ve survive this long. I know when someone wants to kill me. I can feel it. It’s the first thing I ever felt. You have so much respect for her but she wanted to kill me.” Xiaofeng looked down at Mr. Li’s feet. She didn’t say anything.

  “She didn’t want to kill you,” said Xiaofeng.

  “I’m telling you she did,” said Mr. Li.

  “I’m telling you she didn’t,” said Xiaofeng, “She went to the hospital several times and every time she’d comeback saying she couldn’t get rid of you. She said you couldn’t be punished; you had a reason to be. We fought forever over you. When she died she made me promise to take care of you. I said yes because it was my way to repair the relationship before we had no time at all. You affected our relationship absolutely. We barely spoke the last months before you were born; it was all over you. She didn’t go to the hospital because she wanted to abort you. She did it because I wanted her to.” Mr. Li looked at her with the feeling coughing up. The only control he had over the feeling was that he felt it before, when he stood over Deni Tam’s bullet-pierced body. The feeling for revenge was the most needing of gratification. It trumped lust for inability to control. The only thing that held him back was the training of a puppy. The feeling he had early adopted that he couldn’t use violence on his own sister. In that moment he could fully understand her, the frustration of dealing with a sibling who was unwanted. He handled the situation just as she had. He turned around along with his frustration and walked out of the room, leaving his sister on the other side of the door.

  Chapter Nineteen The Door

  Xiaofeng slept. She had no choice. Her body and mind needed rest. When the door shut, she no longer had to fight her brother but had to take care of herself. She peeled back the covers and put herself between them. Her body crunched as much sleep as it could before her nerves shook, enough to wake her up. Her nerves wouldn’t lay still, neither could she. She sat up on the bed. It was half passed ten in the morning. Her body was heavy; it weighed on the mattress. She still felt the weight of meat and bone as she stretched her arms and twisted her torso. Her sleep had been deep but she felt the groggy stain of going to bed early in the morning. The feeling was somewhere between body and body bag. Her mind wasn’t working to heights but it was working through the grogginess. She remembered most of what had happened the night before—not everything—but the hills and valleys.

  She went from the bed to the floor putting her knees down on the carpet and head down on the bed. She wrapped her arms around her head and took solace in the darkness created when her eyes closed. She tried to cry but her eyes were too dry. She was still dehydrated. Her head throbbed. Her meandering mind oscillated. She wished she could take back what she said the night before while knowing it was true. The truth was on the table and she cried about it. It wasn’t like when her mother died, not like when she left her brother. She cried but she capped it. She was more mature than she needed to be. Her life was a response to life. She said and did as much as she could without control over her circumstance. She was a bridge between one generation of her family and the other. Bridges had to be stable but people didn’t. To be both would lead to bed-crying moments. She didn’t inherit her mother’s strength like her brother but she trained in it. She had watched her mother from day-to-day. Her mother wasn’t a crier. Xiaofeng cried but made a point to be bad at it. When it was time to stop, she stopped. She looked toward the bathroom with old habits coming back. Her mother woke and fed her, delivered her to school and back and made her supper. Like her mother, she had developed a routine. Routine was a sanctuary for the living. It was life’s mechanism and kept it going. She showered and dried and kept going. She changed into the same clothes she wore, the only clothes she had. She left the room determined to find her brother.

  Finding her brother wasn’t an obstacle. Her brother was the obstacle. She tripped over his body and tumbled forward. He was sleeping before she woke and before she tripped. He went out the door but he didn’t go. The door closed but he stayed. He slept outside her door. He needed rest as much as she did. He just couldn’
t stand to be in the same room with her, so he slept outside. She woke up then woke him up. It was and off chance but it was easy to find him.

  He was groggier than she was. His sleep and life were rougher, but it was fine for him. He was used to it. The after effect was the same, a hangover. He woke up trying to shake it off. He looked up at her. The look lasted for both of them. She had fallen to the opposite side of the hall. She sat up at the same time as him, eyes meeting from across the hall. The look lasted on both sides, from brother to sister.

  “What time is it?” said Mr. Li.

  “Just after 11:00am,” said Xiaofeng.

  “Do you have a class this morning?” asked Mr. Li.

  “Two o’clock,” said Xiaofeng.

  “Ok,” said Mr. Li.

  “How do you feel?” asked Xiaofeng.

  “Good,” said Mr. Li.

  “You wanna sit here all day?” asked Xiaofeng. Mr. Li shook his head.

  “Well,” said Xiaofeng, “I have somewhere to be.”

  “It might not be the best idea,” said Mr. Li.

  “What?” asked Xiaofeng.

  “To go to the University,” said Mr. Li, “It’s the same as going home. They know they can find you there.”

  “Mama dealt with everything by sticking with her routine,” said Xiaofeng, “That’s what I do. I learned it from her. I want you to do it too. You do whatever it is that you do. If they can find me you can too. So you know where I’ll be.” The message was clear. Mr. Li nodded his head in understanding. They readied themselves and went to the front desk. Mr. Li cancelled his second night’s stay and requested taxi service. He took Xiaofeng by a retail shop for better clothes. The ride and the skirt suit were on him. The taxi stopped on Veteran Avenue next to the UCLA campus. Xiaofeng got out of the car carrying her skirt suit on a hook. She would change in her office.