Xan nodded. “Better than the snakes, I think.”
The Dragon Head shrugged, then changed his tone. “Lim said it was no longer in Hong Kong.”
“He said no one tried to sell it,” replied Xan in a guarded tone. “We can’t know for sure-”
“It’s not in Hong Kong,” said the Dragon Head definitively, their casual banter suddenly forgotten.
Xan nodded briefly, an understated bow. “Yes, shan chu. As you say.”
“Don’t patronize me.” His father had preferred the more formal title, shan chu. Man of the mountain. He preferred Dragon Head. The older name might suggest wisdom, but the latter clearly said power. The power over life and death. And in the end, that was all that mattered.
“I mean no disrespect,” said Xan evenly.
The Dragon Head said nothing, his black eyes staring at the pit. The scraping and clicking of thousands of feet and claws ricocheted off the walls as the scorpions finished their meal. Slowly he turned back toward Xan, his eyes blacker than the shadows behind him.
“Only those trained in the arts could have stolen from me,” he said deliberately.
Xan narrowed his eyes but remained silent.
“And they would not be foolish enough to stay in Hong Kong.”
Xan stood mute, his face expressionless.
“There is one who left,” said the Dragon Head. “A long time ago.”
“Yes, she did,” said Xan, shifting in his chair.
“Go ask her what she knows,” came the command. “The thief is someone who left the path.”
“She is in America,” Xan protested.
“Then bring a passport.”
Xan breathed deeply before responding. “But your father-”
“Don’t speak of my father,” came the curt reply. “I am not my father.”
And that is the problem, thought Xan, who merely said, “Yes, lung tao. I will leave tomorrow.”
Chapter Fourteen
Hong Kong, 18 years ago
Sally was drowning.
She had been underwater for well over a minute, kicking hard as she swam through the tunnel connecting the first two pools. The sky was overcast, which made the water murky, and Sally could not find the bend in the tunnel that led to the second pool. Koi fish swam past as she strained her eyes against the gloom, her small hands clawing the rough surface of the tunnel wall as she searched for the opening.
When she blinked, she saw spots and knew she was going to black out.
Instead of panic, the realization brought a sudden calm. Her mind drifted past the koi to thoughts of her parents, dead now three years. She opened her eyes wide and let the slight current take her, feeling utterly detached from her body, her mind lucid and clear despite the pounding in her ears and the burning in her lungs. She drifted silently, holding fast to the silent wish that she would see her parents again very soon.
The water pushed her backward toward the left side of the tunnel wall. The bend in the tunnel had always been on the right, but Sally was beyond caring. As she turned slowly in the current, she realized the koi were moving in the same direction, and as she watched, they disappeared one by one. A large gold and black fish with bulbous eyes darted past, its tail fins brushing her cheek before it swam toward a shadow on the wall and vanished.
Sally blinked as she drifted closer and realized the shadow might be an opening, a subtle curve in the tunnel wall. She was jolted out of her morbid reverie, her senses suddenly alive with blood rushing through her ears, the stale taste of water in her mouth, and adrenaline coursing through her arms and legs. She kicked frantically toward the spot where the koi had disappeared, half expecting to slam headfirst into the wall.
Light exploded through the water and Sally broke the surface with a loud cry. Sucking in air, she swallowed some water and started coughing violently, sinking back under the water as adrenaline fled her exhausted arms and legs.
An iron hand snatched her by the wrist and yanked her out of the water in one strong pull, dropping her unceremoniously onto the embankment. Coughing and spitting, Sally looked up to see Xan staring down at her, a grim smile on his ruined face.
“Well done, little dragon,” he said. “You learned to see without trusting your eyes.”
Sally could barely talk, her lungs wracked with pain. “The tunnel…?” she began, faltering. Turning her head, she saw a small group of girls standing some ways off, watching. Jun was with them, as was her sister Lin, anxious looks on their faces.
Xan bent closer to Sally and smiled, the electric scar jumping with delight. “The tunnel moved, eh?” he said. “You have been here almost three years-I thought it was time you learned some of our secrets, so I gave you a little test.”
Sally sat up with some difficulty, the color returning to her face. “But if I had failed?”
Xan’s smile broadened, his black eyes as hard and bright as obsidian.
“Then you would have died, little dragon,” he said matter-of-factly. “Now get dressed-it is time for your next lesson.”
Chapter Fifteen
San Francisco, present day
Mitch Yeung looked like a guy you could trust.
Most of the refugees had been taken to a temporary housing facility on Treasure Island, a small patch of land bisected by the Bay Bridge on its way from San Francisco to Oakland. The island was man-made, part of a WPA project from the thirties to build the first airport for the San Francisco area. Back in the days of water-landing planes like the Pan Am Clipper, an island in the middle of the bay was the perfect location, so the navy built one by dredging mud from the bay and the Sacramento Delta. Memories of the California gold rush from decades before were still fresh enough to start rumors that silt dredged from the bay contained untold riches, so the name Treasure Island was an inside joke among the men who built it.
Part of the island housed an old naval base, shut down after Pentagon budget cuts several years back. The low white buildings remained largely unused while city officials on both sides of the bay argued about what to do with the land. But this week no one was arguing, thankful to have a temporary home for two hundred refugees who had none.
Mitch had asked Cape to meet him inside the main building, a long white rectangle set back from the road by a short lawn of brown grass. Cape heard the undercurrent of human voices as he approached, but once he stepped inside, the din was overwhelming. At least a hundred people inside a single long room with exposed rafters, the floor lined with cots, chairs, and the occasional desk. A corner had been draped off, doctors and nurses milling about on this side of the curtain. Cape assumed they’d taken those needing immediate medical attention to one of the many hospitals around the city, but the white lab coats were on hand in case anything new cropped up on the island.
Men and women wearing a variety of uniforms and suits were scattered around the area, most holding clipboards, a few carrying tape recorders, most of them Asian. The men, women, and children from the ship sat on their cots, on the floor, and stood around in small groups. Cape noticed that the refugees talking with various officials looked very serious, even worried, but those chatting amongst themselves looked happy and relaxed. It was as if they knew their journey was almost over, the promised land just beyond that door, if only the men and women with the clipboards would promise not to send them back.
Before Cape could get his bearings, a tall Chinese man with broad shoulders walked toward him, wearing khaki slacks and a navy blazer with no tie. As he approached, Cape took note of his short black hair, salted gray near the temples, and dark eyes sitting high on an open, friendly face. His wide mouth curved into a smile as he extended his hand.