Authors: Stephen Knight
“Next time, don’t give him your word.”
“I won’t. I won’t see Lin Yubo again.”
Ryker looked at Manning for a long moment. He put his hands in his pockets. “My partner…a Chinese named Chee Wei Fong. His family in Hong Kong helped piece some things together, and we went to Lin’s pal to confirm what we had. The man Ren. You know him?”
“I met him. I don’t know him.”
“He told my partner that the information he’d been given came with a price. My partner’s family was whacked in Hong Kong. Killed by another cop.”
Manning said nothing for a moment. “People like Ren…and like Lin…always keep their word, and never make idle threats, detective sergeant.”
“Chee Wei’s disappeared. He hasn’t been heard from in three days. You know anything about that?”
“Nothing. Not a thing. And I had nothing to do with whatever Ren and Lin might have done.” Manning looked around the room. “I’ve been in here, after all. Hey—how long
have
I been in here?”
“Three days,” Ryker said grudgingly. “And I’m told you’re going to be here for at least another two weeks. That woman almost killed you. I saw some of the x-rays. You’re a mess inside.”
“I was a mess inside before she showed up.”
Ryker snorted. “I know what you mean. Your family, right?”
Manning didn’t answer.
Ryker got to his feet and tossed the paper onto the table next to Manning’s bed. “Anyway. Everything’s there in the
Chronicle
if you want to read about it. I’d wait for a bit myself—whenever I read about myself in the paper, it always pisses me off. I’m pretty sure you’re going to feel the same way.”
“I’m…I’m in the
newspaper
?”
“Well, yeah. The security guards at 101 Cali talked, and so did one of the flacks from the department. Lin had the S.F.P.D. by the balls, you know. And it turns out he’s probably got a California senator in his back pocket—a Democrat, at that. The guy’s a total slime ball, but it looks like he had his hand in just about everyone’s pie. So it was kind of a big news day for a while.” Ryker looked suddenly drawn, almost exhausted. He walked to the door and pulled it open, then turned back to the hospital bed. “We’ll talk again before you leave, Manning. Have some more questions for you, but they can wait for a bit.”
“Thanks for that.”
“Don’t thank me yet. I have a present for you. When I found out more about Maggie Shi and what she went through—and how totally isolated and alone she was—I figured you might have been running down that road yourself. So I did some checking. Found something you might be interested in.” He stepped outside the door and held it open with one arm. He said something Manning didn’t catch, and a moment later, another figure stepped into the darkened room. Manning blinked three times to make sure he wasn’t suffering from a morphine-induced illusion.
It was Ryoko.
“Gee thanks, sergeant, but I’m not sure this belongs to me,” he said, a little awestruck. Ryoko smiled down at him as she stopped by the side of the bed and touched his face gently.
“If I were you Manning, I wouldn’t protest too much. Not only does she speak English, she’s picking up your medical bills.” And with that, Ryker left. The door closed soundlessly behind him.
“Mitake-san…why are you here?” Manning asked. He found the Japanese came to him with only great difficulty. And he was getting fatigued again. His eyelids felt heavy.
She leaned forward and kissed his forehead. “I’m here…because this time,
you
need
me
.”
Manning tried to come back with something witty, but his consciousness was shutting down. But he felt Ryoko’s soft lips alight on his, and he thought if he never woke up again, this could not have been a better send off.
###
It was raining by the time Ryker got to the house in Sea Cliff. It was mostly dark; light emanated from only a few windows, and the dwelling looked as cold and forbidding to Ryker as the weather. He hadn’t heard from Valerie for days, and while he’d been busy tying up the Lin case and trying to find out what had happened to Chee Wei, she hadn’t returned his calls. Given the passion they had shared, he wondered what that was about, but he hadn’t pushed too hard. Despite everything, she had lost her husband; even if she hadn’t loved him, Danny Lin’s sudden absence would have left a void.
But eventually, Ryker got tired of waiting.
A maid opened the door and looked at him as Ryker shook off his rain coat on the front porch.
“I’m Ryker, from—”
“I know who you are,” the maid said. “Mrs. Lin is gone.”
Ryker frowned. “Okay. When will she be back?”
“Never.”
“What?”
“Never. She returned to China. Lin Dan’s father insisted. She obeyed. He owns the house. Mrs. Lin had no choice.” The maid spoke with almost no accent, and her face was a blank mask. But Ryker thought he saw something in her eyes, something down deep. Pity?
“Why would she do that?”
“I don’t know, Mister Ryker.”
“Was it because she wants the money? Or because Lin hates me for trying to prosecute his son before?” Ryker took a step toward the maid, his temper rising. The maid held her ground and looked at him with her mostly-expressionless eyes. “Or was it just a game all along, something she and Lin cooked up?”
“I don’t know, Mister Ryker. And you never will, either.” The maid hesitated, then sighed slightly. “I’m sorry. She left no forwarding address—Lin Industries will take care of everything. I don’t know what to tell you, other than she won’t be back.”
And with that, she gently closed the door.
Ryker slowly turned and walked back to his car. The rain fell harder, and the night grew colder. He left the Sea Cliff mansion the same way he’d arrived.
Alone.
---
Stephen Knight
is the author of
The Gathering Dead
,
City of the Damned
,
Left With The Dead
, and
Hackett's War
. He lives in the New York City area. You can find more of his fiction at:
City of the Damned
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B004Q3RIHK
The Gathering Dead
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B004SYAY2S
Left With The Dead (A “Gathering Dead” Novella)
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0055OGSOI
Hackett’s War
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B004W48LZQ
Ghosts
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B004PLNQ6U
Family Ties
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B004P5NS2S
Stephen Knight on the web:
http://knightslanding.wordpress.com/
Did you like this story? Did you hate it? Compliments and/or complaints should go to:
Derek Paterson lives in Scotland and writes Science Fiction, Fantasy (the gory kind), adventure and crime fiction. His previously published fiction can be found on Kindle Books, Smashwords, and other good vendors.
Derek Paterson
lives in Scotland and writes Science Fiction, Fantasy (the gory kind), adventure and crime fiction. His works on Kindle can be found at:
Derek Paterson on the web:
And check out his blog at:
http://secretagentbritishintelligence.blogspot.com/
Cover Art Copyright © by Jared Rackler
http://bookworld.editme.com/JaredRackler
Excerpt:
THE KAISERINE’S CHAMPION
By Derek Paterson
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B005DXQ6G6
Part I
A heavy key clattered in the lock, then the door swung open and the sergeant said, “Here’s your breakfast, Manfred my boy. Enjoy your last meal!” With this he emptied the contents of the night bucket over me and stood there laughing heartily, while I choked and gagged at the rancid stench.
“You hear that?” he said, jerking a callused thumb toward the barred window. I’d been listening to the sawing and hammering since dawn. “You’re going to swing soon, m’lad. Rest assured, I’ll be in the front row, cheering as you gasp and kick your way to Hades.”
I wiped filth off my face with my sleeve and glared at him. There really wasn’t much else I could do, sitting there chained to the wall. He laughed again, turned away and made to step into the corridor—then snapped to attention, his expression changing from amusement to outright fear in the space of a single heartbeat.
I’d heard the footsteps approaching and assumed it must be one of my gaolers, but apparently not. An oil lantern came into view, held by a tall, well-dressed noble with dark eyes, a hooked nose and lips that looked as though they’d never smiled. He wore his arrogance like an impenetrable cloak. His cold, unblinking gaze studied every inch of the cell before coming to settle upon me. A shiver ran up my spine unbidden, though I’d no idea why.
“So, this is the swordsman,” he said. “You have him in chains, I see.”
“Yes, sir,” the sergeant said. “Extremely dangerous, sir. Killed six of the Duke’s Wardens single-handed, he did, and put another three in hospital. The doctor says they’ll be out of action for weeks. Duke Wilhelm is—”
“I know what Duke Wilhelm is,” my visitor said softly, and the chill in his voice did not go unnoticed. He nudged my foot with the polished toe of his boot. “So, what have you to say for yourself, you scoundrel?”
I had nothing to say, to him or any other passing aristo who thought it might be amusing to drop in and taunt me before I died, so I kept my mouth shut.
“Cat got your tongue, mmm? Sergeant, I want to talk to this rogue in private. Close the door on your way out.”
“But, sir—”
“He’s chained to the wall, Sergeant,” the tall man said wearily. “I think I’ll be safe enough, don’t you?”
The sergeant frowned, not quite sure what was going on, but did as he was told. The door clicked shut behind him. At that moment the hammering stopped, as if the two events were somehow related.
“It sounds like they’re ready for you,” my nameless visitor said. “In which case I’d best make this short, lest we’re interrupted before we conclude our business.”
Curiosity made me ask, “What business? Who are you, and what do you want of me?”