“Where you caught the freighter.”
“Yes,” said Lin. “He gave me the heart, wrapped in cloth so I could hide it in my clothes, then explained how to board the ship.” She sipped more tea, which tasted less bitter the more she drank. She could feel herself starting to relax, her shoulder less painful. Her eyes felt heavy, hands tingling, legs almost going numb. She blinked as Yan watched her, his eyes full of concern.
Yan stood and looked down at her cup. “It’s helping, isn’t it?” He smiled though his eyes had gone flat, expressionless. Stepping behind Lin’s chair, he put his left hand gently on her shoulder. “Yes, you are very brave,” he said admiringly.
Lin started to respond but gasped as Yan dug his fingers into her shoulder.
“But very stupid.” Yan’s voice was pure disdain as he twisted his thumb savagely against her bandages. Liquid fire ran down her arm and Lin dropped the tea in her lap, but she couldn’t feel it against her skin. Her legs were completely numb. Yan seized the back of the chair with both hands and pulled, slamming Lin onto her back, stars exploding behind her eyes. She started to hyperventilate as the numbness in her legs crept across her stomach toward her heart.
“You had the most powerful weapon in Triad history,” seethed Yan, stepping in front of the chair. “And you lost it.”
Lin watched, helpless, as Yan raised his right foot and brought it down slowly onto her shoulder. The numbing poison had made it to her chest, squeezing the air out of her lungs, but it left the nerve endings in her shoulder raw and exposed. The heel of his shoe pressed down, Lin’s head twisting back and forth on the rug as she tried to scream, managing only a strangled cough as tears ran down her cheeks.
“But you’re still of some use, and with your help, perhaps I can get the heart back.” Yan’s eyes shone with a fanatic’s zeal. Lin stared, wheezing and thrashing, as Yan reached behind his back and tugged at his belt. The room was getting dark, and Lin realized she was blacking out.
That’s when she saw the knife.
Chapter Fifty-two
Buddha’s Universal Church is still the largest Buddhist church in North America, even though it was built in 1961. Although Buddhism has become the fastest growing religion in the United States, the size of its churches have remained relatively modest. But the founders of this church in the heart of Chinatown lacked the funds to build from scratch, so they converted an abandoned nightclub and renovated the dilapidated building themselves over a ten-year period. Today the interior is filled with colorful murals and mosaics, and the rooftop garden has one of the best views in the city.
Cape had never seen the view at night, and under different circumstances would have enjoyed it. But sitting with his hands tied behind his back gave him little opportunity to see more than ten feet in front of him. A crescent moon stared down at the roof, a malevolent eye covered by a cataract of thickening fog. Since the church was the tallest structure on the block, very little ambient light found its way to the garden from the streetlights and neighboring buildings. Beyond that, the garden was nothing but shifting shadows against the night sky.
Xan emerged from the darkness at the edge of the roof and strode through the garden. He was wearing a loose-fitting, long-sleeved black shirt and black cotton pants, with sandals on his feet. As the sparse light found him, his grizzled scalp and broad face flickered in and out of focus, making him appear headless.
“The street is deserted,” he said in English. His voice was deep and full of gravel, with a slight accent that seemed to come and go depending on how fast he talked. “They should have come by now.”
Cape said nothing at first, not sure if Xan was thinking aloud, but then said, “Maybe they don’t like costume parties.”
Xan smiled and leaned over Cape, getting in close. Cape could see the raised scar tissue coursing its way across Xan’s cheek, making one eye seem larger than the other.
“Cut yourself shaving?”
Xan gently squeezed Cape’s left shoulder.
Cape jerked backward, his body spasming as if struck by lightning, knocking his head back as a scream caught in his throat. He coughed violently, wheezing as air rushed from his lungs, bile rose, and his eyes started to water. His head struck the tiles again, hard, as vertigo hit like a sledgehammer.
An eternity that lasted only a few seconds passed and Cape opened his eyes, relieved to see the roof wasn’t spinning. Twisting his body, he managed to sit up and saw Xan standing ten feet away, idly passing something from hand to hand.
It was Cape’s wallet.
“The cards in your wallet say your name is Cape…?” He made it sound like a question. “Except, of course, this card.” Xan held up a brown card with a red triangle. “This card doesn’t seem like the others, does it?”
Cape took a deep breath, knowing Xan was only a step away from squeezing his other shoulder. “One of these things is not like the others?” he asked. “Who are you, a Muppet gone bad?”
Xan’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t move. “Where did you get this card?”
Cape looked at Xan and said nothing. He couldn’t move his left arm at all but tried to roll his shoulders to keep some blood circulating to his hands. He wondered if he could roll to the edge of the roof and…what? A five-story drop onto hard pavement was starting to sound pretty good.
“Do you have any other cards like this?” asked Xan patiently.
“Go fish.”
Xan took a step forward but his manner remained calm, unthreatening. “I have no interest in hurting you.”
Cape almost laughed, but it came out as a cough. “Gee, that’s reassuring. I’d hate to know what it feels like when you are interested in hurting someone.”
“One-eyed Dong,” said Xan. “You’ve met him?”
Cape nodded. “Charming guy, treats his guests much better than you,” he said, seeing no reason to lie. Xan wasn’t about to believe Cape found the card on the street.
“And what business does a gwai loh have with One-eyed Dong?” Xan held up another card. “This says you are a ‘licensed investigator’ in the state of California.”
“I’m considering another line of work,” replied Cape. “And how about you-a massage therapist?”
Xan raised his head slightly, and said with a hint of pride, “I am a teacher.”
Cape squinted, blinking his eyes dry. “Reading, writing, or arithmetic?”
“Life and death.” Xan’s eyes were two pieces of obsidian.
“Let me guess,” said Cape. “A girls’ school.” It was out of his mouth before he could stop it. Fuck it-maybe it’ll get him talking-more time to think, less time to writhe in agony. He sat up straighter, shaking his head to clear it.
Xan’s eyes grew wider as he studied his captive. After a long moment, he started to walk in a slow circle around Cape.
“Did you know that more than half the assassins in the world are women?”
“I dated a girl who tore my heart out.”
Xan ignored the remark and kept circling, making Cape think of a shark.
“It’s true,” said Xan. “What better way to get close to a man, especially a dangerous one? Women make men stupid, careless. Even a dangerous man is vulnerable when he’s with a woman.”
Cape thought of Sally, wondering how far back the two went. Keep him talking. “That can’t be easy, turning women into killers.”
“They are weapons,” said Xan. “But you miss the point-it’s impossible to teach women anything. They are stones, worn hard and smooth by waves of disappointment and years of sorrow, as predictable and stubborn as the tides.”
“Was that a haiku?”
Xan’s eyes flashed a warning, but he never broke stride. “But girls-girls are made of clay. Especially girls who lost their childhood to broken homes or tragedy. Start young, fuel their anger, and you can mold them, teach them, make them anything you want.”