The Ninja's Oath, page 10
Although low for a ship, the hull of the container barge loomed ten feet above me, making it impossible to see if anyone was on board. I raced up the retractable gangway that ran alongside and ended up in the center of a walkway that circumvented the deck. Since the movement I had seen from the warehouse roof came from two vessels away, I climbed onto the platform and bolted between the double-stacked containers like a mouse in a maze.
When I reached the other side, I paused.
The gangways to the next ship were located near the bow and the stern. Since I was in the middle, each was a football field away. Mooring lines and giant fenders kept the two vessels in place, about two yards apart. The bulk cargo barge sat lower in the water with coal heaped into mounds like a serpent with shiny black scales. If I undershot my leap, I’d have a long way to swim—provided I didn’t crack my head and get sucked under a hull.
I was so close. I couldn’t lose Chyou.
Hoping for the best, I climbed onto the railing and leaped, stretching my legs as a surge of tide separated the hulls. Even sailing in a full Wushu split, I missed the deck’s ledge and crashed against the side.
My backup plan saved me as I landed on a fender and clung to the rope. Dangling between hulls, these monsters felt closer than they had seemed. With the container barge knocking against the fender dangerously close to my back, I climbed up the rope and onto the next barge. Rather than sprint to the stern where I could cross beneath the tower, once again, I chose the more expedient route.
As I climbed over the massive serpent’s back, loose coal shifted beneath my feet and hands, sinking me to my calves and slowing me down. A man yelled when I reached the top. Bad enough to be spotted, the next ship was unmoored and pulling slowly away.
I sprinted along the side of the deck to gain speed, leapt up to the railing, and launched myself over the edge. Paddling the air with my legs and arms, I made it to a mooring line and smacked against the hull.
A gasp of pain cut short my curse.
I clung to the mooring line and looked back the way I had come as the ship’s hydraulics reeled me toward the deck. Beyond the coal barge, Uncle looked tiny in front of the stacked containers and two stout red cranes. On the road beyond that, Tran’s black SUV sped out of sight behind a larger vessel unloading its cargo at the end of the dock. Cranes swung and tilted from the deck, as if trying to pluck an annoyance off of the ground.
Way to go, Lily. You’ve done it again.
My phone sat useless in my cargo shorts pocket. No Wi-Fi for WeChat. No international plan for a call. No way to organize a rescue with Uncle and Tran. I had set myself adrift in more ways than one.
Twenty-Two
As the mooring line raised me up the side of the freighter, I berated myself for the hasty decision that had separated me from my team. If I had taken the time to explain what I had seen from the roof of the warehouse, we could have plotted a more sensible plan to intercept this ship and rescue Chyou. Instead, I had allowed my impulsive actions to negate years of grueling ninja training and introspective work. Rose’s murder had destroyed my trust in humanity and in myself. Sensei’s insightful teachings rebuilt both. He had given so much of himself to make me strong enough to collaborate with others. How disappointed he would be if he knew his efforts were for naught.
Voices chatted in Mandarin above me on the deck. I needed to get off the mooring line before it reached the slot in the railing on the way to the winch.
I grabbed onto a hot metal ledge and walked my hands to the side. When the ledge ended, I swung my legs sideways until I had enough momentum to release my grip and grab a new hold three feet away. The ship moved at a crawl, no doubt pulled by tugboats until it could navigate on its own. If I could find Chyou quickly, I had a chance to rescue her before we powered into the Yangtze River for destinations within China or other counties beyond the East China Sea.
Instead of coal or containers or tarp-covered freight, this barge had flat cargo holds that formed a platform taller than me. From the warehouse roof, I had seen giant metal hatches covering the holds with markings for a helipad in the center. Four cranes stood between each hatch with a conning tower at the stern. If Chyou was on this ship, it had to be in a storage room or cabin.
I hugged the platform to stay out of sight and ran.
The mariners manning the winch had left—hopefully to work on the tugboat side of the ship—which gave me a straight shot to the window-plastered tower. Stairways up the sides led to the viewing and command decks above. I needed an internal staircase that would lead me below—beneath all those vantage points where someone could easily spot me.
Just as I made it to cover, two familiar gang members walked out the door. The first man I had fought in the orchard ambush focused his dead-eye glare at me. His partner with the snake tattoos dropped his jaw in surprise. I coiled to attack, then stopped. Behind them, two mariners approached. Before they could see me, I bolted around the wall and ran under a viewing deck toward the stern of the ship.
I needed to eliminate this threat and find Chyou before the ship went to sea, preferably without raising an alarm or leaving two corpses behind. Above me, a message stenciled in red letters encouraged the same.
Work Safely. Avoid Accidents.
I raced up the steep metal stairs through the hatch and ducked beneath the portholes as I ran along the deck. Another set of stairs led me around the back of the tower where the giant red funnel shot up to the sky.
No portholes back here. And many opportunities for two criminal landlubbers to accidentally fall.
I headed for the last staircase to a landing overlooking the stern. Dead Eyes closed in quick. I stalled him with a mule kick to the chest, then hurried up the steps of a launching deck where a free-fall lifeboat hung at a steep angle, ready to plunge into the water and bob to the surface away from a sinking ship.
Promising hazards at every turn.
A fall from the narrow platform would land my pursuers on the funnel deck one flight below. If I shoved them off the steel launching racks, they’d fall another flight to the stern. Lure them onto the lifeboat’s smooth steel hull or onto the ends of the racks, and I could kick Dead Eyes and Snake into the Buzhen Gang River for an unpleasant swim.
Provided they didn’t dispose of me first.
This time, I allowed Dead Eyes to make it up stairs and made room for him and Snake to follow me onto the landing. The back hatch of the nose-down orange boat was sealed shut, creating a forty-degree surface on which I could lean and launch kicks. Above me on either side, white steel beams angled up from the point of the launching racks like a clip for a giant bag of chips.
I grabbed one of the four yellow chains that hung from a cross bar hooked to cables attached to the boat. I stood on the slanted door and kicked Snake in the face. He fell back against the guard rail and spit blood over the edge. Dead Eyes shoved his partner aside and charged.
I kicked him in the temple as I swung off the door and landed on a steeply sloped white metal grate. The maintenance ramp ran down the side of the lifeboat’s launching rack. A fall from here would smash me onto the main deck two stories below.
I had traversed more precarious footing while scaling Los Angeles buildings, stairwells, and roofs. I was accustomed to heights and could scamper across ledges with squirrel-like ease. Whether running from danger or flipping over obstacles just for fun, I relied on my ninja and parkour training to keep me safe.
Dead Eyes pursued more recklessly.
He lost his footing and crashed me into the hydraulic arm of the lifeboat’s rack. My legs shot back with his, and we both landed hard on the grate, chest to chest, with our feet dangling through the protective bars at the end.
He stank of tobacco and sweat.
I slammed my forehead into his nose, releasing a gust of hot breath and a splatter of blood. Then I ground my forearm into his throat and dug my knee into groin as I crawled out of his sticky embrace.
He shifted and tucked his foot against my hip. As he tried to shove me off of the ramp, I grabbed the guide rope attached to the lifeboat’s shell. My legs flew up, but my torso stayed down. This time, we landed farther down the ramp, face-to-face on our sides.
With out feet braced against the guard rails to keep us from sliding through the gap, we kicked at one another’s feet in a frantic attempt to knock them off the rails. A fall from here might clear the ship. More likely, we would hit the deck and break our backs before we bounced off the stern.
I tired of the contest and double stomp-kicked him in the gut.
His narrow hips slipped through the side railing. My next kick shoved him through the hole and sent him swinging off the railing post by his knees. The momentum of the arc cleared him from the stern in a flip and plunged him into the water with a back-smacking splash.
The freighter’s engine rumbled as it separated from the tugboats and made its own way.
Dead Eyes bobbed to the surface and grew small.
We had already reached the final moored ship unloading at the end of the dock. When we reached the Yangtze River, I’d lose my opportunity to extract Chyou from this ship.
As I rolled onto my knees, Snake advanced down the ramp. His mouth bled from my kick, and he moved stiffly, as if Tran’s motorcycle tire during the ambush had broken his ribs. To improve his odds, he flicked open a telescoping baton
Remaining on my knees, I snapped open my karambit and lunged at his calf.
I was fighting from the low side of a steeply sloped grate. Snake had the advantage of gravity and height. Fortunately, Sensei had taught me to draw swords and knives from seated and kneeling kamae. I applied the concepts of these traditional fighting scenarios to my current state of affairs. Even so, I had a hard time evading Snake’s boots and baton.
The knife flew out of my hand.
His baton struck my neck.
I scrambled beneath the hydraulic arm that connected the steel beam and the boat’s launching rack. They joined in a point a few inches behind my heel. Both were angled steeply to launch the free-fall lifeboat away from the ship. But without the sliding momentum, I would suffer a harder fate.
Snake whacked my fingers with the baton.
I re-gripped farther down the steel beam.
There was no way to win from this untenable position. The smooth nose of the lifeboat offered nothing to grab. Snake blocked my route back to the maintenance ramp. Nothing below would catch me or slow my descent. I had no choice. All I could do was retreat with my life.
Gripping the sloping steel beam, I jumped onto the end.
Snake grinned and swung his baton at my face.
As it approached, I shoved backward off the beam in a Hail Mary dive.
Twenty-Three
White clouds drifted in the sky as I sailed, chest open, back arched, away from the ship. I had gaged my trajectory based on an estimated forty-foot dive. As I brought my hands together, I saw a small motorboat racing across the river. If it didn’t slow or swerve, it would surely crash into me.
I focused on the water, intending to cut through like a dagger and swim beneath the boat. There was nothing I could do if it hit me on the way.
Ma, Baba, Sensei…I didn’t have time to send goodbyes to anyone after that.
Eyes shut, I pierced the surface and exhaled as the water rushed along my body. When my speed slowed, I paused underneath and listened for sounds of a motor overhead. The river was too muddy and polluted to risk opening my eyes, so when my chest grew tight, I swam up to see.
I gasped in air and wiped whatever contaminants might have clung to my face. Only then did I look down the river at the departing cargo ship. No mariners swarmed the stern in alarm. Nor could I see Snake gloating from the lifeboat launch above. I had back-dived off the ship with the same anonymity as I had arrived.
“Want a lift?” a man asked.
I snapped my head to the left and found Tran smirking from the helm of a small fishing boat. “Where did you get this?”
“Borrowed it from a local.”
“Borrowed?”
“Close enough.”
I swam to the side. “You could have hit me.”
“Could have. But didn’t.”
He pulled me onto the boat and handed me a grimy fishing rag in place of a towel.
I crinkled my nose. “I’ll air dry.”
“Good choice. But shower as soon as you can. Did you open your eyes in the water?”
“Nope.”
“Smart.”
“Thanks.”
“But not smart enough not to avoid getting thrown off a ship.”
“I dove.”
“Small difference.”
“Not from where I was fighting.”
“Point taken.”
He started the engine.
I looked upriver toward the coal and container barges I had crossed. “Where’s Uncle?”
Tran shrugged. “He ran after you. I sped for a boat.”
“Yeah. I saw your SUV driving down the road.”
“Really? When did you have time?”
“During my ride up the mooring line.”
“Slacker.”
“Hey. I’d like to see you sprint a mile down a dock and climb across three different ships.”
“Wouldn’t happen.”
“Too old?”
“Too smart.”
We powered downriver alongside the final cargo ship moored at the dock. Its hull was so high off the water I couldn’t see the cranes. At the mouth of the river, the ship with Uncle’s grandniece eased into the Yangtze.
“We’ve lost her,” I said.
“Not for long.” When I continued to sulk, he added, “I saw the ship’s name.”
I studied Tran as he steered the fishing boat past the end of the cement dock toward a short wooden pier jutting out from a dirt bank. Time and again, he showed up when I needed him most.
“Why do you help me?”
“I already told you.”
“When?”
“K…” He pretended to pout. “You hurt my feelings.”
I snorted out a laugh. “As if.”
“I’m interested to see what you will do.”
Much as I wished to forget, I remembered the conversation we had in Los Angeles when I was still worried he might put a bullet in my head. “That’s not all you said.”
“No. I said violence recognizes its own.”
Although I had replayed those words a hundred times in my mind, it hurt to hear them spoken out loud. “Maybe so. But that doesn’t explain why you care.”
The rumble started in his belly and worked its way up his throat before turning into mirth that lit up his eyes. “Why I care? I hadn’t realized we had reached this stage in our relationship.”
“Not funny, Tran. Not funny at all.”
“Oh, come…” He looked at my furious expression and laughed.
I slapped the wetness off my shirt and shorts, wishing I could slap the smug off his face. Instead, my fingertips whacked against something hard. When I cried, “Ow,” Tran lost it again. He laughed even louder when I pulled out my soggy phone.
I tried to dry it with the fishing rag, but I knew it was a hopeless cause. Although tech companies promised to have a phone the following year that could survive a twenty-foot plunge, the best water depth mine could handle was three.
“Don’t worry,” Tran said. “We’ll get you another phone.”
“When? During all our free time?”
How many messages from Ma would I miss?
An irate fisherman yelled from the shore, several car lengths beyond the end of the road. Tran waved amiably and pulled up to the pier. “I’ll find you a phone, Lily. I promise.” Then he pulled out his wallet and handed the fisherman 300 yuan, thanked him for the use of his boat, and led me up the pier to the dead-end road.
He pulled a tarp from the trunk and laid it over my seat.
“Do I want to know why you have a tarp in your car?”
He grinned. “Probably not.”
I checked for blood stains, then sat.
While he walked to the driver’s side, I swallowed my annoyance and braced myself for what I needed to say. The last time I had spoken these words to Tran, I had mistakenly thought I was buying my family’s life. Since then, my gratitude tab had grown long overdue.
He stuck the key into the ignition and paused. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
Why was this so hard?
“Thank you for picking me up in the boat.” I took a breath. “And for fighting with us in the orchard.” In for a penny… “And for showing up at the riot in Hong Kong.”
His brow raised in surprise.
I braced myself for a snarky comeback.
“My pleasure,” he said, and started the car.
Twenty-Four
Fury emanated from Qiang as Uncle explained what had happened to Chyou.
“How could you let her get away?”
“She was already on the ship.”
“But why?” Qiang yelled. “If Edward Fu took her as you claim, he would have kept her on Chongming Island.”
“Not if there’s a better way to get back what he has lost.”
Wei gasped. “By selling Chyou?”
“I don’t know. But this doesn’t look good.”
Wei turned on his father and pounded on his scrawny chest. “What have you done?”
Qiang shoved him away. “Nothing. This is all because of him. Where are they taking her, Lee?”
Uncle turned to Tran. “Anything?”
Tran looked up from his phone. “The freighter is headed up the Yangtze River for Wuhan. But there are several ports along the way.”
“Wuhan?” Wei threw out his hands. “Why would anyone take her there?”
Before Tran or Uncle could venture a guess, a car drove up the road. When the dust settled, Scar Mouth and Giant emerged. They stood near their open doors and glared at Uncle, Tran, and me.
Qiang marched forward, yelling at them in Mandarin, too fast for me to follow. Giant shoved him back.
