Jackal (13 page)

Ling nodded. “A little token of our appreciation for you coming here. It’s yours to take back to the States, if you’d like. We realize that road bike racing isn’t your passion. Saturday’s race is simply a means of gaining you notoriety. If you stay, you will choose which type or types of cycling you want to promote.”

I couldn’t help grinning. “Thanks a ton! I wasn’t expecting this.”

“I’m glad to see you smiling,” Ling said. “Let me leave on that note. There is an alarm clock in each bedroom. Make sure you set one and leave yourself plenty of time to get ready in the morning. As I said, you will be picked up downstairs at seven a.m. sharp. You will be driven to our makeshift training facility about half an hour away. Mr. Chang is looking for a permanent location for a mega-training center, but that will take a couple more weeks of scouting. The good news is, things happen very fast in China. Once a location is
found, we’ll be up and running in just a few months. You’re here at a very exciting time, Jake.”

“No doubt,” I said. “Are you going to be there tomorrow?”

“Of course. I will be there every day, and—”

I heard a snicker, and a voice said, “
This is my competition? Ha!”

I whipped around and saw someone standing on the neighboring balcony. The person flipped on an outside light, and I realized that it was the lead kid of the Chinese team that Mr. Chang had put together to challenge us. The kid looked even skinnier and more psychotic in real life.

“Good evening, Keng,” Ling said. “This is Jake.”

“I know who it is,” Keng replied, and he spat over the balcony to the sidewalk below.

“Nice to meet you,” I said.

“Yep,” Keng replied. “It
is
nice for you to meet me. Too bad I don’t feel the same way about meeting you. Why don’t you go back where you came from?”

I felt my eyes narrow. “I—”

“That is enough, Keng,” Ling interrupted. “Don’t take the bait, Jake. Keng is just trying to rile you up.”

“I know that, and he’s doing a pretty good job,” I said, “but I don’t mind a little trash talk. It just motivates me more. Make sure you put on your big-boy shoes on Saturday, Keng. I’m going to show you how us Americans roll.”

Keng scowled and said something in Chinese.

Ling shook his head and ushered me inside.

“What did he say?” I asked.

“Something about you almost losing to a girl in California. It’s not important.”

“What a gasbag,” I said. “I’d like to see how
he
does against Hú Dié. She’s awesome. You guys recruited him as a possible poster boy?”

“He’s an amazing rider. Mr. Chang believes that Keng can be taught to behave better if he and his team win on Saturday. Personally, I’m rooting for your team, Jake. I would rather not work with Keng for years. Please don’t tell anyone I said that, though.”

“My lips are sealed. Thanks, Ling.”

“My pleasure,” he replied, and he reached into one of his pockets. He pulled out a wad of Chinese bills and handed some to me. “Here’s some pocket money,” he said. “Buy whatever you’d like. There are plenty of souvenir shops in this neighborhood, as well as a wealth of stores that carry snacks and the like.”

“Are you sure? My folks exchanged a bunch of money for me at the airport back in Indiana.”

“I’m positive,” Ling said. “Take your new bike for a spin around the neighborhood sometime. Treat yourself.”

“I will,” I said. “See you, and thanks again.”

Ling nodded and left, and I locked the door behind him. The last thing I needed was Keng to come barging in here. He seemed exactly like the kind of kid who’d do that.

I actually was getting a little hungry, so I hit the kitchen. The cupboards were indeed full, but most of what I saw was protein powders and vitamins. I wondered how much of this stuff they actually wanted me to take. The less, the better, as far as I was concerned.

There were a few different kinds of fruit in the refrigerator, but nothing really jumped out at me. The freezer was
packed, too, but only with various types of frozen Chinese dumplings. What was up with people from Shanghai and dumplings?

I gave up on the food and checked out the rest of the apartment. All of the bedrooms were the same size, shape, and color, and they all had identical bathrooms. I went back to the living room, where Ling had left my suitcase, and took it to the bedroom farthest from the living room. I figured it would be the quietest. I was going to unpack, but I didn’t feel like it. I was tired, but I didn’t really feel like sleeping.

I checked the clock and saw that it was nearly eight p.m. The sun set early here this time of year. If I went to sleep now, I might wake up in the middle of the night and be unable to fall back asleep. Jet lag did things like that to people. It would be better for me to stay up a couple more hours before crashing for the night at my normal Indiana time like my mom had suggested. Phoenix once told me that Chinese people tended to stay up late, and therefore shops usually stayed open late. Based on all the lights I’d seen from the balcony, that seemed to be the case. Maybe I’d take my new bike for a little spin and find something to eat.

I went out to the balcony and found that, thankfully, Keng was no longer there. I strapped on the helmet and threw the BMX bike over my shoulder, then grabbed my backpack and left. I carried the bike down the interior stairs, nodding to Loo, the security guard.

“Heading out for a ride?” Loo asked. “Searching for anything in particular? Dumplings, perhaps?”

I rolled my eyes. “Not dumplings, but I am kind of hungry. I think I’m just going to wing it, though.”

“Go anywhere you’d like, except I strongly suggest that you not cross under the highway into Old Town.”

“Why not? Foreigners aren’t welcome there?”

“It’s not so much that. The streets are covered in rubble. No one bothers to ride bicycles there because they experience far too many tire punctures. Also, no one speaks English. A few of the Americans who live here venture into Old Town about once a month to grab a bite to eat, but that’s only because the dumpling shops there are the very best in the entire city.”

“Sounds like I won’t be missing much.”

“Exactly,” Loo said. “Be safe.”

“I will. See you in an hour or so.”

“I’ll be here.”

Loo held the door for me, and I pushed my new BMX bike outside, into the warm night. I was wearing the same t-shirt and cargo shorts that I’d worn on the plane, and they were beginning to feel a little sticky. It didn’t matter, though, as I was bound to work up a sweat cruising around here. I’d just shower once I returned.

I walked my bike through the main gates and then jumped on, riding down the concrete stairs. The bike handled them like a dream. It had been far too long since I’d bombed down steps. I hit the sidewalk and began to pedal, searching for more stairs or other things to ride.

I’d forgotten how much fun this was, just cruising around. Out here, I was part of the street, not riding
someone else’s trails. Street riding was all about breaking the rules and riding something that wasn’t meant to be ridden. I kept my eyes peeled for setups—ledges, wedges, rails, ramps, whatever.

I soon found a low rail and bunny-hopped onto it, doing a perfect pedal grind that lasted almost five seconds. It was awesome. Next, I came across a small loading dock at the back of a clothing shop. The dock had a ramp that looked pretty sketchy, but I hit it anyway. I caught some sweet air and landed with a fluidity that reminded me why I loved BMX so much. It was all about flow and creating new lines.

BMX was whatever you wanted it to be.

I circled around to the front of the clothing shop and saw a line of people waiting to get into a movie theater next door. Two girls about my age pointed at me and began to giggle excitedly. I was pretty sure they’d seen my face on the billboard. I had to admit, it felt pretty good. I decided to give them a little show. There was a low bench nearby that didn’t have anyone sitting on it, so I bunny-hopped over the whole thing.

The girls squealed with delight and clapped their hands. “More! More!” they shouted in English.

Who was I to let them down? I leaned back into a manual, which was basically a wheelie without pedaling, and cruised the length of the line. More people began to clap.

This really
was
fun. There was an old guy riding past on an ancient delivery bike, and even he stopped to watch from the bike lane next to the road. I nodded to him and pulled off a series of flatland moves that I hadn’t attempted in years. Flatland was essentially doing every kind of trick
imaginable on your bike without actually riding or falling off of it. I climbed up and down the handlebars, balanced on the front and back tires, and stood one-legged on the bike frame’s downtube, all without losing my balance a single time. The people waiting in line seemed impressed, as did the old guy. He clapped wildly and flashed me a huge, toothless grin.

I stepped off my bike to consider my next series of moves when I noticed a cyclist cruising toward me. He rode a high-end road bike and was decked out in a complete European road bike racing kit, complete with full-fingered gloves. He was wearing a helmet and nighttime riding glasses, plus a silk scarf that covered most of his face. I realized that he was wrapped head to toe, as if it were the middle of winter. But it was summer.

He spoke, and his words hit me like a punch to the stomach.

“Hello, Jake.”

I recognized that voice.

It was Lin Tan.

I locked eyes
with Lin Tan in front of the long line of moviegoers. This was the guy who was supposed to have washed out to sea after having been poisoned to death by DuSow’s deadly touch. I instinctively tightened the straps on my backpack because this was bound to get ugly, and there was no way that I was going to get separated from the dragon bone.

“You’re alive,” I said.

“Clearly,” Lin Tan said, “a little worse for wear but, yes, still alive. Imagine my surprise when I stepped off of a smuggler’s airplane here in Shanghai to see your face on a billboard. Who would have guessed? I’ve spent my entire career attempting to popularize cycling in my native country, and what happens? My country imports a blond, shaggy-haired foreigner to do it instead.”

“There’s no guarantee that I’ll be the one they pick,” I
said. “You’d have just as good a chance. Are you planning to race on Saturday?”

“Ha! My racing days are over, as are my days of posing for magazine ads like I used to. Billboards like yours are definitely out of the question.” He pulled off his riding glasses and scarf, and nearly everyone in the movie line shrieked. Several of them even ran off.

I swallowed a lump of bile that had risen into my throat. Lin Tan’s skin was coal black and scaly, like that of a melanistic lizard. His eyes had sunken deep into their sockets, and his eyebrows had fallen off.

“This is the end result of DuSow’s poison,” Lin Tan said. “I suppose I should be grateful that the dragon bone I’d once taken or its poison-based antidote somehow protected me from death, but it’s difficult to feel grateful for anything when you look like this. You have no idea what lengths I had to go to to find passage back to China. And when I arrive, what do I find? Like I said,
you
!”

“Why do you have a problem with me?” I asked. “I’ve never done anything to you.”

“You played a role in the sequence of events that led to DuSow taking action against me. For that, you will pay.”

“But—”

Lin Tan dropped his bike and lunged at me. I stepped back, holding my bike in front of me like a shield, but he grabbed it. He tore it from my grasp and hurled it to one side. I turned to run, but he took hold of my backpack. I pulled with all my might, and he held fast.

The pack couldn’t take the strain.

I heard fabric tear, and there was a soft crack as the plastic protein powder container hit the sidewalk. I spun around and snatched up the container, cupping one hand over the small opening that had formed along the bottom seam.

Lin Tan saw the protein powder label and froze. He picked up a pinch of gray powder that had poured out onto the concrete, and he sniffed it. His spooky eyes went wide.

“Dragon bone!” he said.

I jumped on my bike with the container tucked under one arm. I held it upside down so that no more would spill out.

I began to pedal away, and Lin Tan screamed, “Get back here!”

As if.

I hammered as hard as I could for about ten seconds, then I risked a glance over my shoulder. Lin Tan was standing still while reaching behind his back, into one of his jersey pockets. He pulled out a pistol and began firing it at me.

POP!

POP! POP! POP!

Bullets whizzed past my head and ricocheted off the ground beside my tires. But I kept hammering. So far, I hadn’t been hit.

The bullets stopped flying, and I glanced back again to see that Lin Tan had climbed onto his bike. He was coming for me, the pistol still in his hand.

I tried to decide what to do. I could race back to the apartment, but then what? Loo the security guard was
there, but I didn’t remember seeing him carrying a gun. More than that, Lin Tan was on a road bike, and it was a straight shot over smooth pavement from here back to the apartment. He might catch me before I got there. What would a sneaky, clever jackal do?