Authors: J. Robert Kennedy
“Who was
that?”
“Fang
Zen, my captain.”
Her face
erupted with a smile that she quickly wiped away by clamping down on her cheek
with her teeth.
“It’s
time,” said Su Ming. “Keep control of yourself. Head down, dutiful wife, no
talking or looking at anyone, especially once we get inside. We don’t know who
we can trust in there.”
She
nodded, her head already down, her chin on her chest.
He
tugged slightly on her arm, and they stepped into the square, crossing it at a
reasonable pace. Though her head was lowered, and her teeth clamped shut, her
eyes were flitting from side to side, looking for anything out of the ordinary,
and she willed her ears to listen harder than they ever had before, and prayed
that her little majesty would remain quiet.
As they
approached the door, they heard voices, raised. She immediately recognized Fang
Zen’s, and felt her heart leap into her throat as the words “Unhand me!”
escaped the darkened entrance. The grip on her arm tightened. More than
slightly. But they continued to approach. She felt herself tug away, desperate
to go in any direction but the butcher’s shop, but Su Ming kept leading them
directly there.
He’s
the traitor!
It made
sense. It would have to be someone high ranking in the guard or among the
servants in order for them to have known of the escape route. And now, here
they were, among a small group to have survived, and he was leading her, with
an iron grip, directly toward their capture.
She
wanted to cry out, to scream for help, but who would help her? Clearly there
were soldiers on the other side of that door, and probably hidden throughout
the square, concealed far better than her untrained eye could detect.
They
were less than twenty paces from the door. Her heart hammered in her chest, the
baby stirred, perhaps detecting her discomfort. A tear rolled down her cheek,
the grip tightened further as she pulled away again.
Then,
gradually, to her amazement, they turned to the left, past the door, and into
an alleyway to the side of the shop. They continued walking, and her heart
began to settle. They stopped, about one hundred paces further on, in another
square bustling with activity, it apparently a farmer’s market of some type.
“Wait
here. I’m going back to try and stop anyone else from going inside. I’ll send
them this way if I can.”
She
nodded, her head bowed low in the shame of what she had thought he might be.
She felt Su Ming’s hand on her shoulder. She looked up. He smiled at her.
“You
thought I was a traitor.”
It was a
statement, not a question.
She
nodded.
“As I
would have,” he said, his voice gentle. He lowered it further. “If I’m not back
in one hour, it will be up to you to hide the baby, and raise him. Do you have
family?”
She
nodded.
“Then go
to them if I do not return.”
She
nodded again.
He
squeezed her shoulder then turned around, walking casually back to the square,
and the danger it contained. She watched him disappear into the shadows, only
to reappear as some sliver of sunlight revealed him once more. Then finally,
with the turn of a corner, he was gone.
And she
waited.
Forbidden City, Beijing, China
Two weeks ago
Inspector Li Meng absentmindedly scratched behind his ear as he took
in the scene in front of him. It was something he would imagine in a war movie,
or some Hollywood blockbuster, meant to shock and titillate an American
audience long ago desensitized to violence.
But as a
thirty year veteran of what was now called the Public Security Bureau, he had
never seen anything like it. To Li it was something out of a horror novel, and
he had a hard time looking at it.
Two
bodies, gaping holes in their torsos, as if they had been impaled by a large
tree, lay side by side, the male’s hand resting on the cheek of the female.
Touching.
But it
was the blood pattern that had him shaken. It began with a massive spray at the
gates to the Forbidden City, where the initial impact had obviously taken
place, an impact that had blown them away from the doors a good ten meters at
least.
What
kind of weapon can do this?
He
squatted at the entrance, putting his head at about the height he estimated the
victims were hit, then, taking a bead on where their bodies now lay, he tried
to determine where the shooter might have been. He found himself looking at the
roof of the Gate of Supreme Harmony.
“Don’t
you know squatting is frowned upon in modern Beijing?”
He
looked over his shoulder and up at his partner, Inspector Hu Ping. She smiled
and held out a large Starbucks coffee. He pushed himself to his feet and took
the steaming brew.
“Thanks,”
he said, taking a sip. He looked at her. “And I’ll have you know I wasn’t
squatting. I was trying to figure out where our shooter may have been.”
Ping
looked at the victims. “Are you sure we’re not looking for a tank?”
Li
chuckled then immediately cut himself off. “We must be serious. There are too
many eyes here,” he muttered.
Ping
nodded, sipping her coffee. “Sorry,” she mumbled into the cup.
Li gave
her a half wink, just for her benefit. She was young, only twenty-five, and the
first of her cohort to begin taking real jobs in society, and the first cohort
to have been corrupted by the modern influences of the Western decadent
lifestyle. He was of another generation, a little simpler perhaps, much more
conservative, but he had to admit the new freedoms and prosperity that had come
to his country over the past decade were welcome.
And he
took a sip of one of those new freedoms.
Li
beckoned one of the officers and he jumped it seemed several centimeters
straight up then rushed over.
“Yes, sir?”
“Have
someone look at the top of that roof”—he pointed through the gates—“and see if
they find anything. Bullet casings, anything. Be careful not to destroy any
evidence—everyone wears gloves.”
The man
bowed, then rushed off to carry out his orders with one of his fellow officers.
Li turned back to the blood splatter.
“So what
do
we have here?” asked Ping.
“It
looks like two tourists were shot with a
very
high-powered rifle from—I
would guess—the top of that roof.” Again he pointed.
“Motive?”
“None of
the traditional motives, I would think. Obviously not robbery, I doubt it was
jealousy or some love-triangle. Not with a weapon like that.” He rubbed his
chin then scratched behind his ear. “No, I’m guessing they were specifically
targeted—some sort of assassination—or randomly targeted, perhaps for being
tourists, for some political statement.”
“I think
we can operate under the assumption that the latter is not true.”
Li
jumped at the voice behind him and Ping almost spit her coffee. He instantly
recognized the voice of Superintendent Hong Zhi-kai, their boss.
“Practicing
your stealth techniques again, sir?” asked Li with a smile as he turned to face
the man five years his junior—at least. With good family contacts, Hong had
risen up the ladder far faster than Li could ever dream, and would continue
rising so long as his family was in favor with the Party apparatchik. Li, on the other hand, came from a poor family, and was lucky to
have risen as far as he had.
That was
one difference in Chinese society compared to Western. At least he thought it
was if he was to believe the limited Western propaganda he’d been exposed to.
In the West, you could advance on merit and hard work, all the way to the top.
A black president with a Muslim name was proof of that, or so he had heard. But
in China? You only advanced to the upper levels if you were connected.
Or had
something on someone who was.
But he
didn’t care. It was a good life. A life of service, a life he could be proud
of, and it afforded him a salary sufficient enough to take care of his beloved
Xiao, and their daughter Juan. And if things kept going the way they were
going, he could only see things getting better.
“I
hardly think humor is appropriate at a time like this,” scolded Superintendent Hong.
Li gave
a bow. “Of course, sorry, sir. It is just my way of relieving the tension such
a gruesome scene inevitably produces.”
Hong
seemed satisfied with the explanation, and pointed to the roof inside the
Forbidden City that now had several officers on top.
“What are
they doing?”
“Looking
for shell casings. I believe the shooter may have been on top of that roof.”
“Based
upon what?”
“Just a
guess at the trajectory.”
“We
don’t guess when it comes to homicides.”
Li
bowed, getting a little pissed off. “Of course not, sir. It was simply an
hypothesis based upon my nearly thirty years of experience, sir.”
There
was a yell from the roof, and one of the men stood, waving.
“That
appears to have paid off,” interjected Ping, who quickly looked away from the
glare Hong gave her.
“I see
your insubordination has rubbed off on your partner.”
Li
wasn’t sure what to say.
“Relax,
both of you, I’m just keeping you on your toes.” He sighed. “Sometimes I wonder
if I’m cut out for this type of life.”
Now Li
definitely wasn’t sure what to say. He scratched behind his ear.
Hong
dismissed the statement with a wave of his hand. “Don’t worry yourselves. My
mother-in-law is visiting. This is about the only opportunity I get to feel
like I’m in control of some part of my life. For two weeks I definitely haven’t
been in control at home.” He smiled and slapped Li on the back. “We choose our
wives, but not their families!”
Li
smiled politely, and bowed.
Hong
leaned in, lowering his voice.
“But I
was serious about one thing. Keep this quiet. No press, no leaks. We can’t have
people finding out that tourists are being killed by some crazed sniper.”
Li
nodded, his alarm bells immediately going off as Hong walked away to glad-hand
with an official who had just arrived.
“Did you
hear that?” hissed Ping.
Li
nodded.
“Do you
think he means that these aren’t the first?”
Li
frowned. “I hesitate to guess what he means.”
But
if these aren’t the first, then what we have here is far bigger.
And
far more terrifying.
Outside the Forbidden City, Beijing, China
January 13, 1875
Li Mei stepped deeper into the shadows. It had been far longer than
an hour, perhaps two or three. She had lost track of time, and could only guess
by how low the sun was on the horizon, the long shadows cast across the now
quiet farmers’ market speaking volumes to the hour.
And a
woman, alone, with a baby, standing in the street, was bound to draw the
attention of anyone looking for exactly that.
She knew
what Su Ming had said. Go to her family if he wasn’t back in an hour. But she
hadn’t lost hope yet. She had edged much of the way back down the alley on
several occasions, and peered around the corner where she had lost sight of him,
and she was certain she had seen him on at least one of those occasions, though
it was hard to tell in his peasant outfit.
A sandal
scraped on stone, and her head whipped around to find two people half walking,
half running, down the alley. Her heart leapt. It was Yu and one of the
soldiers from the court whose name she did not know.
“Over here,”
she whispered.
They
stopped and looked, then smiled as they walked casually over.
“Are you
okay?” Mei asked.
Yu
nodded, and peeked at the baby. “And you?”
“Terrified.
Have you seen anyone else?”
Yu shook
her head. “Only Su Ming and you. I found Jun just minutes ago near the
fountain.”
Mei
looked at Jun and nodded, now that she had a name to go with the face. “We saw Xiao,
one of the maids, and Zhu, one of the soldiers, enter the butcher’s shop, then
Commander Fang went in. There was a struggle inside when Su Ming and I walked
by, so we kept going.”
“We’ve
been betrayed,” said Jun, his face grim, his eyes flaring with anger.
“What
are we to do?” asked Yu, biting her finger.
“We
can’t leave without Su Ming,” said Mei.
Yu
nodded. “I told him I have a brother not far from here. I gave him directions
and told him to meet us there. He’s going to pass the word to anyone else who
may show up. He didn’t mention you, so I suspect he thinks you’ve already
left.”
Mei
nodded. “I was supposed to leave two hours ago, but I just couldn’t bring
myself to.”
Jun put
a hand on her shoulder. “You’ll come with us.” He looked about. “We’ll go on
ahead, you follow us, no closer than twenty paces.”
Mei
nodded, and Jun took Yu by the arm, and they walked purposefully across the mess
of the market. Mei counted to twenty, then followed, praying the little one
would remain quiet now that they were moving again.
Jun and
Yu disappeared around a corner, and she found herself wanting to rush forward
to regain sight of them, but she resisted, maintaining her pace, despite the
hammering of her heart in her ears. She rounded the corner and nearly peed, as
four of the Empress Dowager’s personal guard ran toward her. Her eyes darted to
the left, then the right, desperate to find a hiding place, but none was to be
had. And besides, it was too late. They were only paces from her when she first
saw them, and now were almost upon her.
She
dropped to her knees and bowed, dropping one hand to the filthy stone and
rubbing it in the mud. She raised the hand and rubbed the dirt on the little
one’s face, then she smeared the rest across her own as they came to a halt and
surrounded her.