Hello Kitty hands him the Taser. Funny, I think. It looks like a video-game controller. Like a bright pink Wii.
He kneels down next to me.
“Ellie McEnroe. I’ve heard about you.”
American. “Nice things, I hope.” My voice is raw. It hurts to talk.
His thumb hovers over the trigger. I cringe.
He grins. “Good girl. We understand each other.”
The Chinese guy jerks his head at the rent-a-thugs. “Bring two chairs,” he snaps. One of them hustles off.
American guy rocks back on his heels. “Okay, here’s the deal. I’m going to ask you a couple of questions. You’re going to answer me. We’re clear on that?”
I nod.
“Where’s Jason Turner?”
Oh, fuck. I’m screwed. I tell him the truth: “I don’t know.”
His thumb twitches. I’m shaking now, so hard it’s like he’s already pushed the button. He laughs.
“One more chance,” he says. “Where’s Jason?”
I squeeze my eyes shut. “I don’t know.”
By the time I can move again, the thug’s come back with the chairs. The American and the Chinese guy sit in them, the American’s chair pulled up to me, practically touching me, the Chinese guy’s farther back.
The American nudges me with his foot. “Hey,” he says. “You with us? Want to try again?”
“I…”
The Chinese guy looks bored. He lights a cigarette. He’s got a sharp haircut, wears a snappy black jacket. Probably Armani or Gucci or whatever the fuck.
Part of me just wants to shut down. Curl up in a ball and they can do whatever the fuck it is they’re going to do. Because even if I wanted to, I can’t answer him.
“I…” I clear my throat. Try, I tell myself. Say something. “I’m friends with his brother. We served together. In Iraq.”
I wait for the shock. It doesn’t happen. Instead the guy is watching me. Listening.
He’s ex-military, I’m willing to bet. That’s the only thing I’ve got to play. So I play it.
“Jason’s brother… he got blown up pretty good. TBI. Lost an arm, too. He’s pretty messed up.”
The American nods. He knows this already.
“We’re buddies,” I say. “You know how it is. He heard Jason was in China. Asked me if I could find him. I said I’d try.”
“Okay,” he finally says. “So how’d you know to come here? And to Dali?”
“Jason’s girlfriend. I… I met her. In Shantou. He left her a list. She gave it to me.”
“And how’d you find her?”
Fuck. I can’t think straight. I don’t know what’s safe to say. What isn’t.
He pushes the trigger.
“Yangshuo,” I gasp, when I can talk. “Dog had a postcard. From Jason. So I went there. That’s where they met. I just… I just asked around.”
He leans back in his chair. Crosses his arms over his chest. Sighs. Tilts his head toward the Chinese guy. “I think it’s pretty clear where the leak came from,” he says. Then he turns back to me.
“We don’t let little terrorist fucks like your pal Jason interfere with our business. It’s not acceptable.”
“Okay,” I say.
“And we don’t take kindly to people stealing our intellectual property and trying to make a profit off it.”
“I, uh… okay.”
“So if you want to make things right, you better tell me, right now, anything else you know. Where you got your information, who your sources are, and anything you know about where Jason Turner is.”
I’m so fucked up right now I can’t even think. I have these flashes. About Langhai and his videos. About Han Rong, who I’m pretty sure is not to be trusted, and his fellow weasel Russell. I wouldn’t mind ratting those two out to these guys. They’ve got to be from Eos, right? And maybe Hongxing.
I close my eyes.
I see Boba and the birds. Sparrow, and Kang Li, and the cats.
Whatever I say, I don’t want to lead these guys back to them.
“It’s like I said. Jason sent a postcard. From Yangshuo. I went there. Asked around. Found out about Jason’s girlfriend and where she was. It wasn’t hard. You could do the same thing I did.”
The American guy sits in the chair. He stares at me. His finger brushes the trigger of the Taser.
I stare back. I can’t tell if he believes me. And I don’t know what I’ll do if he hurts me again.
Finally he tosses the Taser on the floor.
“Whatever,” he says. He stands up. The Chinese guy flicks his cigarette butt onto the floor and rises as well.
“After we’re gone, take care of the trash,” the Chinese guy says to the thugs. “Away from here.”
Hello Kitty follows them out.
Now it’s just me and the thugs.
It’s weird. Here’s these two guys, and they’re looking at me with dead eyes. Like one time I went to a restaurant in Beijing and ordered a fish, and the waiter took the fish out of the net by the tail and slammed its head against the concrete floor right in front of me.
I’m the fish.
I don’t know why I’m so calm. They’re going to do something, they’re probably going to kill me, and it’s like I’m already feeling dead.
Outside, I hear a car start. The engine rev. Then fade away.
“I’m friends with a man in the DSD,” I say. “He’s my lover, in fact. If you hurt me, he will find you.”
I think the guy on the left, maybe there’s a flicker of doubt in his eyes. I’m a foreigner, and messing with foreigners can be a pain in the ass. Messing with the DSD an even bigger pain in the ass.
“I have money, too. More than they’re paying you.”
The other guy stoops over. Picks up the pink Taser and hands it to the one on the left. Trots out of the room.
“I’m telling the truth,” I say. “My lover works for the DSD. He knows I’m in Guiyang.”
I’m wondering how many charges one of those things has. Because this guy, he may be a thug, but he’s not very big, and he’s kind of scrawny. I’m pretty sure I’m taller than he is.
Could I do it? Could I kick him in the nuts and run?
I’m not even sure I can stand up.
“I’m telling the truth about the money, too. I can pay you.” His eyes flick down, then up; he shuffles his feet. He’s nervous about this. I’m getting to him.
“You don’t want trouble, right?”
That’s when the other guy comes back. He’s carrying a large bag, woven plastic. The kind the migrant workers carry their stuff in. Like for flour, or rice.
That and a length of rope.
Take care of the trash. Away from here.
I’m not dead, I’m not dead yet, and I don’t want to be.
“Wait,” I say. “Just wait. You don’t want to do this. You don’t want the trouble. Listen to me, it’s not worth it. He’ll kill you. I’m telling you the truth-”
The little guy looks at the Taser, almost curiously. Like, how do I work this?
Pushes the button.
I can’t see anything for a while.
I’m aware of the other guy kneeling down by my side, fumbling with the sack and the rope. Then I hear something, a car engine, a screech of brakes, a door slam.
He lets out a curse, drops his stuff, springs to his feet. “Wait here!” he yells-at least I think that’s what he says. He’s speaking in dialect, and besides, there’s a buzzing in my ears and I’m dizzy and sick, like something’s pulling on my eyes from behind, hollowing out my gut.
But when I hear the gunfire, I know what that is.
The other guy drops the Taser and runs.
The adrenaline clears my head some. I push myself up with my arms so I’m sitting, try to stand, but I’m still too weak, too dizzy.
More shots.
I crawl to the chair. Brace my hands on either side of the seat.
Stand up. Fucking stand up.
I’m about halfway there when two men burst into the room.
The guys Kang Li and I left in a rice paddy: US Polo Team and his buddy, from Yangshuo.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
THEY’RE VERY POLITE.