The Ninja's Oath, page 9
Uncle gobbled down his jook and nodded for me to do the same. With Chyou still missing, he itched for a fight.
I wolfed down my breakfast, wishing we had time for another bowl, and grabbed two dough sticks to eat on the way. Who knew when Uncle would feed me again?
When we settled into the backseat of the car, I finished my snack and waited for him to tell me what he had planned for the day. He had paid extra for a rideshare all the way to Chongming Island. I figured he would want to use the time well. After ten minutes of silence, I forged ahead.
“I researched Meimei’s stepdaughter online. The company she worked for manufactures chemical compounds to make pharmaceutical drugs.”
Uncle stared out the window. “My mind has no room for Meimei’s drama. Not until we find Chyou and bring her safely back to Qiang.”
“What if Suyin is in trouble?”
“Suyin is thirty years old. Meimei cannot treat her like a child. Sooner or later, a mother must let go.”
I thought about Ma and how often we communicated. Even during our most difficult times, I rarely ignored her messages for more than three days. Suyin was only five years older than me—four, once I turned twenty-six in November. Did Ma need to let go of me as well? Or, more importantly, did I need to let go of her?
I checked the time. It was four in the afternoon in Los Angeles, and I hadn’t heard a peep.
Me: Any updates on Baba?
When I didn’t get an immediate response, I reminded myself not to worry. Hospitals had sketchy internet and strict cellphone policies. The moment she had news, she would relay it to me. Uncle was right: we needed to focus on finding and rescuing Chyou.
Uncle nodded at my phone. “Send a message to Tran. Have him meet us at Qiang’s.”
“What’s the address?”
“I’m sure he knows. If not, he can find it himself.” His tone was still bitter from the previous night.
“Anything else I should add?”
“Yes. Tell him to come prepared for a war.”
I sent the message. “Did we come prepared?”
He kicked the bag between his feet.
Weapons or money?
Although Uncle could afford to pay off his brother’s debt, he knew the ways of gangs. If they extorted what they wanted without injury or repercussion, they would likely do it again. Qiang would be theirs for life. This would kill his brother’s spirit and turn him into what he never wanted to become.
My money was on guns.
I tapped the bag with my foot and hit metal. “Still don’t want to pay?”
Uncle shrugged. “I will if I have to. But first, they’ll pay me in blood.”
We rode the rest of the way in silence with only brief exchanges between Uncle and the driver to help him locate Qiang’s farm. I spotted workers tilling the fields and wading through the fish-pond paddies. I didn’t see anyone small enough to be Zhi or Yong.
The car stopped in front of Qiang’s farmhouse in a cloud of dust. By the time it had settled, Uncle’s angry brother and his worried son were waiting on the stoop.
“Where have you been?” Qiang said in Mandarin.
Uncle glanced at me. “We speak in English or we don’t speak at all.”
Qiang sneered. “Fine. Where have you been?”
“Moving our mother to Meimei’s house. Which you would know if you kept in touch.”
“Me? We’re the ones in trouble. Why haven’t they called us?”
“Do they know?”
“Didn’t you tell them?”
“This is your news to share. If you want family support, you must ask for it yourself.”
Qiang stomped off to the vegetable garden, muttering loud enough to hear. “As if that would do any good.”
His son stepped forward, a decade older than me but with sun-aged skin. “Good morning, Uncle Lee.”
“Good morning, Wei. This is Lily Wong from Los Angeles. She came to help us find your daughter.”
Wei bowed in greeting and turned back to Uncle. “Is my father right? Would your mother, cousins, and sister care about Chyou?”
“Have you introduced them to her?”
“When she was little. We visit my wife’s family during Spring Festival.” He looked at me. “I believe you Americans call it Chinese New Year.”
You Americans? Guess I wasn’t Chinese enough to satisfy Wei.
The fact that he didn’t visit his paternal relatives during a two-week national celebration devoted to family reunions did not reflect well on him. When I told him I celebrated Spring Festival with my family back home, he felt the intended rebuke.
“I know it’s not right. But Chang gatherings are difficult for my wife and children when my father won’t attend.”
Uncle nodded toward Qiang, still muttering at his plants. “If you follow your father’s example, you will have no family at all. You must honor your elders and teach your children this respect. The Changs are their relatives too. It is your duty to foster these relationships.”
“Yes, Uncle. You are right, of course. And I am very thankful for your help. But have you learned anything about my daughter?”
Uncle delayed his response long enough to embarrass Wei. “Do you know about your father’s outstanding debt to Edward Fu?”
“The Chongming King? Father would never borrow money from him.”
“And yet…”
Wei yelled across the garden. “You borrowed money from a gangster?”
Qiang spat in the dirt and stomped back to us. “Who do you think comes by every month? Did they look like my friends to you?”
“No, but—”
“How else could I afford to upgrade this farm? Or keep this house? Or support your children?”
“I work hard—”
“For ME.” He gestured around him. “I did all of this myself, long before you entered this world.”
Wei turned his back on his father. “Did Edward Fu take my daughter to get back at him?”
Uncle glanced at Qiang. “We think so.”
“What can we do to get her back?”
“Pay him two hundred thousand yuan.”
“We don’t have that.”
Uncle shrugged. “Then you will have to fight.”
Qiang scoffed. “We aren’t killers like you, Lee. Besides, I still think this trouble comes from your criminal activity with that Scorpion gang.”
Uncle glared at his brother and ignored Wei’s shock. “I thought time would have helped you grow up. But you still look in your neighbor’s yard for what you misplace.”
“And how have you changed, Lee? A driver brings you to my house. You own property in Shanghai. You are richer than before. And still, you are unwilling to give even a hair.”
“Unwilling? I support our mother and cousins. You expect me to pay for you?”
“I expect you to help.”
“Why do you think Lily and I are here?”
“To embarrass me in front of my son.”
Anger rushed in and out of Uncle until only the sorry remnants of sadness remained. Beside him, Wei hung his head in shame.
“Oh, little brother. You do that all by yourself.”
The rumble of an approaching vehicle cut through the silence between Uncle and Qiang.
“Where are the boys?” I asked. When no one answered, I turned to Wei. “Where are your sons?”
His father’s exploits with the Chongming King had shaken him badly. “My wife took them to school.”
“And your mother?’
“At the market, I think.”
Uncle reached into his bag and brought out a folding knife and tossed it to me. I opened the talon-shaped blade and smiled. The karambit was the same model as the trusty blade I had left in my apartment back home.
He pulled out a pistol, checked the chamber for brass, then relaxed his arm to let the gun hide behind his thigh.
“What are you doing?” Qiang said. “You can’t have weapons here.”
Uncle slid his bag behind us with his foot. “Are you ready, Lily?”
“Yep.” I rested my fists on my hips, hiding the open blade behind my waist.
“There could be five,” he said.
I nodded. Two in the front and three in the back.
Qiang watched us with alarm. “You can’t attack people on my farm.”
Uncle stayed focused on the road. “You misunderstand, brother. It is them who may attack us.”
The black SUV stopped in a cloud of dust, shielding the driver as he opened the door. Uncle and I tensed.
Tran strode into view, wearing his standard charcoal ensemble of jacket, muscle tee, pants, and boots. He looked at our weapon hands hugging our sides. “Expecting someone else?”
Uncle nodded toward the SUV. “Where did you get that?”
“Lily’s message said to come prepared for war. I brought a tank. Or as close as I could find on such short notice.”
Uncle stowed the pistol in the bag while I folded my karambit and slid it into my pocket. Although knives were illegal to carry, I felt more confident armed.
Qiang fired a question in Shanghainese.
Uncle replied in English. “This is Lily’s friend from…” When Tran didn’t offer, he threw out his hands. “I don’t know much about him. But he fought with us during the ambush in Edward Fu’s orchard.”
“What ambush?” Wei said.
“Six of Fu’s men attacked us after I asked about your father’s debt and Chyou.”
“Go home,” Qiang said. “You are causing more trouble. I will speak with this man myself.”
“Do you have the money to pay him back?”
“Not yet. But I will assure him that I will.”
Tran chuckled. “Is your brother always this naive?”
Uncle nodded. “Unfortunately, yes.”
Wei stepped forward. “Give me a weapon.”
Qiang grabbed his arm. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
Uncle considered Wei. “Have you ever fired a gun?”
“No.”
“Trained to fight with a knife?”
“No.”
“Stay here with your father. If we’re going to rescue your daughter, we cannot worry about you.”
“But you said we should fight.”
“I was wrong. Stay your wife and sons. Leave the Chongming gang to us.”
“About them,” Tran said. “Fu’s men hole up in a warehouse on the east bank of the Buzhen Gang River.”
Uncle nodded. “The Buzhen spills into the Yangtze between the Baozhen and Xinhe ports. It’s a good location to smuggle contraband in and out of Chongming.”
Qiang sneered. “What violence do you plan this time? Invade a triad hideout with your tank? Shoot gangsters with illegal guns? You could endanger Chyou and get us all arrested.”
“Chyou is already in danger,” Wei said. “If Uncle Lee and his friends are willing to risk their lives to save her, I want them to try.”
Qiang stared at his son in surprise and confusion, as if Wei had never voiced an opinion so strongly before. When Wei held his ground, he sighed.
“Your daughter. Your choice. But you should know that all of my brother’s endeavors end in blood.”
Twenty-One
Uncle brooded in the backseat as Tran drove us to the Chongming gang’s base. Every interaction with the Chang family had been worse than the last. No wonder Uncle rarely came home to Shanghai.
“Have you eaten?” Tran asked.
“Huh?” I said.
“Breakfast.”
“Why?”
“Just trying to be polite.”
The ordinary banter was freaking me out. “I had jook. You?”
“Hot sauce noodles.”
“In this heat?”
He grinned and let the implication hang in the air: nothing was too hot for a man like Tran.
“I brought you a tea egg in case you needed a snack.”
I struggled to decipher his meaning as he drove.
“It’s just an egg, Lily. Relax.”
Tran was right. The Chang family had me on edge. He was only trying to ease the tension in our car.
He grinned. “Although, I could round up a sex tonic boba if you would prefer.”
Son of a bitch.
“I knew you were there.”
He laughed. “No, you didn’t. You were too wrapped up in your dream date with Daniel Kwok.”
A week ago, Daniel and I had strolled along Victoria Harbour while waiting for Hong Kong’s famous Symphony of Lights. I had glimpsed a man who had reminded me of Tran, but when I looked back, he had left. Apparently, my gut reaction had been correct. “Keep your snacks, and focus on Chyou.”
“Whatever you say, Miss Wong.”
“Oh, good lord.” Tran was imitating my grandfather’s driver so I’d know how carefully he had spied.
Uncle tapped the back of my seat. “We must be close. A cargo ship passed under the bridge.”
Tran crossed the river and turned onto a tree-lined road with buildings on the left and the muddy Buzhen Gang on the right. A cement dock began after that and ran along the street with cargo vessels moored, side by side, from four docking stations spaced along the cement. The first three barges lashed together were empty. Each had a three-story conning tower on one side and a long-arm crane on the other. The next docking station had two similar barges lashed together, each loaded with tarp-covered containers. The types of freighters varied farther down the road. The east bank of the Buzhen Gang looked like a parking lot for river-sized ships.
I examined the warehouses as we passed. “Which one is theirs?”
“According to my contact,” Tran said, “it’s a gray building across from the dock.”
“They’re all gray.”
“That’s all I was told.”
Uncle leaned forward between our seats. “The one with the blue roof has motor scooters parked in front.”
Two instead of six, but they resembled the bikes our ambushers had ridden. The warehouse doors were rolled down and locked, hiding any other conveyances they might have used. A metal security gate protected the front door. A walkway ran down the side.
Tran drove past the warehouse and parked between the next two buildings out of sight.
Uncle opened his weapons bag in the backseat and removed his pistol and knife. “Did your contacts verify that Chyou was here?”
“No.” Tran watched him in the rearview mirror. “I’m surprised you brought a gun.”
“You didn’t?”
He smiled at me. “I have what I need.”
I glanced at his torso for signs of the stiletto he had used to assassinate two punks in a Koreatown garage. The deadly efficiency with which he had killed still haunted my dreams.
Tran noticed my hand drift to the right pocket of my shorts. “You traveled with your karambit?”
“Uncle bought one for me here.”
He nodded. “It’s good to begin a fight with a familiar tool. After that, we can pick up what we need.”
Uncle opened his door. “Enough talk. Let’s find my grandniece and leave.” He pointed to the security camera mounted on the front corner of the building. “Pay attention. Less surveillance on Chongming Island does not equal none.”
I angled my face down as I followed Uncle out of the alley to the street. If the Chinese police caught us in a crime, I could kiss my American privilege goodbye.
A handful of mariners strolled across from us in front of a tarp-protected barge. Ship cranes unloaded cargo from a massive vessel at the end of the road. I saw no action around the container ship to our immediate left.
Uncle bypassed the front entrance of what we assumed to be the gang’s hideout and led us down the side walkway instead. After testing the lock, he brought out a set of picks. In less than a minute, we walked through the rear door.
Tran and I separated from Uncle as we entered. The lights were on. Men spoke Chongming-accented Mandarin I couldn’t understand. Stacked crates and boxes shielded me from view.
Chinese characters marked most of the goods I passed. Many had company logos in Russia’s Cyrillic alphabet or Korea’s hangul. There were also US brand names like Kellogg’s, General Mills, and Revlon. Cereals and American cosmetics were overpriced and hard to acquire. Edward Fu would make a tidy profit selling them to locals or smuggling them elsewhere in China.
I peeked between stuffed burlap sacks that smelled of citrus, rice, and wheat and saw a sleeping mat littered with food containers, empty water bottles, soda cans, and snacks. A package of cookies had been neatly rolled closed beside a shackle chained to a grimy bathroom sink.
Was this where they had kept Chyou and the family members of other farmers who couldn’t pay their debt?
The men laughed. A chair scraped on the cement. I adjusted my position in time to watch two men walk out the door and switch off the lights.
I raced back the way I had come and found Uncle and Tran doing the same. “Chyou’s gone.”
“I know,” Uncle said. “They put her on a ship.”
“Which one?”
“They didn’t say the name.”
We reached the street in time to see Scar Mouth and Giant drive their scooters up toward the bridge. The strolling mariners had left. I detected no movement in the conning tower of the nearest tarp-covered barge. Nor did I see anyone on the cement dock in front of the container ship moored to its left. The crates and cargo on both barges were stacked and piled too high to see anything beyond.
Uncle checked both directions as frantically as me. “We need to split up.”
“And look where?” Tran said. “These ships are two football fields long.”
The face of the warehouse had promising grooves above the front door.
“Give me a boost.”
Tran created a step, then hoisted me into the air.
I dug my fingers into the grout and clung. Once secure, I climbed up the wall and onto the roof. With the added height, I could see the other vessels lashed side by side away from the dock.
“There.”
I pointed beyond the container ship, climbed off the roof, and jumped to the ground. Before my partners could ask, I sprinted down the road in a three-hundred-yard dash. Tran might keep up with me. Uncle never would. But it didn’t matter because the movement I had seen was on a barge with a clear route to leave.
