The Dragons of Heaven (26 page)

I snorted. Nobody that young could possibly comprehend forever-love.

A woman detached herself from the bar. She was older than most of the customers, somewhere in her forties at least, but she carried her age well. In her tailored jacket and palazzo pants, she could have given fashion lessons to Marlene Dietrich.

So strange to see her out of the traditional robes. Her expression was as blank as her doorman's for all that her lips curved in a welcoming smile. Her eyes glittered cold and hard as marcasite in the techno pulse of lights coming from the monitors. “I get the feeling you disapprove,” she murmured by way of greeting.

And I got the feeling she was fighting back a snicker. Well, that answered that question. However much my disguise might fool most people, Song Yulan saw through it. Perhaps Johnny had told her.

“Nothing so strong. Just feeling my age. Is there someplace quieter we can talk?”

“Of course. My office?” She led me through the main room of the club and down a back hallway. We stopped at another door, this one with an electronic keypad. Her nails clacked against the casing as she punched in the code. The lights blinked green, followed by an electronic buzz. She led me into an office that sported the colonial theme I'd expected to see in the common area, all oxblood leather sofas and walls of books and a half-domed globe sporting a tea set instead of the usual brandy or scotch. She shut the door behind us.

“There. Now you can remove that ridiculous disguise. Tea? I've just made a fresh pot.” She moved to the service.

I stiffened. It was one thing to suspect she knew me, quite another to have my identity pulled out from under me. I stayed in character on instinct, fighting the urge to fidget. “At the risk of being rude, do we really have the time?”

“There is always time for tea.” She sat and crossed her legs. Her long nails formed a cage around her teacup. She watched me over the rim of her cup but didn't drink. “Does it really fool anyone?”

And now I just felt silly. I removed my hat and released the shadows obscuring my face. My spine curved into a slump. I let my voice crawl back up to its natural pitch. “Yeah, seems to.”

“Sit.” I remained standing. She poured me tea. “I apologize for my abruptness. You caught me unawares. We weren't sure that you would come.”

We? “Because I should leave China's business to China?” My jaw tensed. Just let her try to feed me that line of bullshit.

Song Yulan's brows rose in an expression that was so familiar it near broke my heart. Like grandfather, like granddaughter. “Because Lung Di wanted you to come.”

I expelled a breath, my chest sinking inward. It was one thing to suspect that David Tsung was a lying bastard, quite another to have it so baldly confirmed. I fumbled for the chair and lowered myself into it. “I know. He sent your former apprentice with the two-by-four equivalent of a calling card.”

Song Yulan tapped her nails on her cup. I didn't need to look at her face to know she was struggling over how best to tell me that I was an idiot. “
We
sent David, but that doesn't mean you should trust him. I'm still not convinced that he's sincere in this latest defection. He was quick enough to support the suggestion that you be brought in, but I can't tell if that means he's serving our interests, or Lung Di's… or his own.”

“We can shut out Tsung if his motives are in question. I'm more concerned about Lung Di. Has he ever been this blatant?” It was one thing to work underground. Behind the scenes. The puppetmaster nudging his human tools. This New Wall wasn't his style. “Or am I wrong in thinking he's taken the other Guardians?”

“We are all in agreement that he's gone too far this time. It is one thing to meddle with humans, quite another to break
guanxi
with his fellow spirits.”

Amazing that my teacup didn't shatter from the strength of my grip. I breathed in steam to cool my anger. It was OK to mess with humans, but heaven forbid Lung Di inconvenience his fellow spirits? “Perhaps he's hoping the rest of the Nine will respond?”

“The Nine have withdrawn from the world.” The twist of her lips and the deadpan delivery as good as gave me her opinion on that decision.

“So it falls to us to fix his mess.”

Song Yulan shook her head. “I am not so eager to include you as others are.”

“Why? Because China's business is not my business?” I snapped, setting aside my cup. It clattered on the table, tea sloshing over the side. “Four Guardians –
four
– he needed to capture to create this ward, and not just some classroom turtle or little girl's pet chow.”

Her lips formed the words “pet chow?”, but I wasn't finished with my tirade. I stood, looming over her. “He had to develop the ritual, send instructions to Chinatowns all over the world, and get his people to execute the ritual simultaneously. Can you actually sit there and tell me that nobody suspected something was going on? Is he so damned powerful that he can keep something like this secret? Or was it that nobody wanted to go against him because they have
guanxi
with him, and going against him might damage your own interests? Until he went too far. And now you're saying you couldn't possibly have foreseen that he would do something this extreme? Well, you should have known better. You all should have known better.”

Song Yulan didn't move through my tirade, her face frozen in a porcelain mask. She blinked. Took a measured breath. “David Tsung knew. He claims it was why he left me. To discover what his grandfather was up to.”

It sounded like a concession. I chose to read it as such. “But you don't trust him.” I resumed my seat, lifting my teacup and taking a sip. My own concession. “You said ‘we' before. Who is ‘we'?”

Song Yulan's jaw tensed. “It is complicated.”

“Then use small words.”

That earned me a chuckle. “The People's Heroes have been establishing order within the city–”

“So I've heard. I wouldn't expect you to ally yourself with them.” The Cultural Revolution hadn't been kind to the more traditional spirits of China, and the PHC was the secular face of new China.

Song Yulan shook her head, blunt cut feathering along her jaw. “Much has changed in the past few weeks. It makes for strange allies. The PHC has taken control of most of the Shadow Dragon Triad's holdings, including Lung Di's sanctum. The only way to get at it is to go through them. We believe that is where Lung Di holds the Guardians.”

“He's with them?”

“It is unclear. The wards are impenetrable.”

“Not for someone who can pass through Shadow.” Which left myself and Tsung. “So why didn't you send Tsung in?”

Song Yulan grimaced. “You think the PHC is inclined to trust him any more than you or I? But it is convenient that they don't trust him because it meant we needed you.”

“Is there a reason I shouldn't go to the PHC?”

“There has been a coup among the Shadow Dragons. It would be best if you spoke to their new leader directly.”

“You'd trust Lung Di's own network over the PHC? Why?”

“I believe the PHC will have few qualms about sending you in to fix this, but what if that is what Lung Di wants? The new leader of the Shadow Dragons may have ideas for a different approach. She understands how he thinks.”

She. Interesting, though I didn't think I could trust anyone who understood the thought processes of the Shadow Dragons' former head.

I set my tea aside. “When can I meet her?” If I didn't agree with Song Yulan's reservations, I could always go to the PHC. It sounded like we'd have to go to them eventually, anyways.

Song Yulan ducked her head, but I caught the flash of a smile. By the time she looked up, it was gone.

“I will take you to her now.”

S
ong Yulan led
me out the back way, into an alley so narrow that only a madman would try to drive down it.

And, of course, every taxi driver along the Puxi.

We flattened against a wall until there was a break. It was paltry as breaks went, but Song Yulan dove across the way, and I was left to follow. Horns blared, and the driver bearing down on me passed close enough to clip the tail of my coat.

Song Yulan didn't wait for me to catch my breath. She led the way down a built-over brick tunnel that had once been a space between buildings. Crumbled masonry littered the path. I held my arm over my face to ward off the stink of bodies and feces.

We came out on a busy thoroughfare. No dodging traffic here. We'd have to wait at the light like good pedestrians.

Song Yulan fidgeted and shot glances up and down the street. Her agitation attracted more curious glances than my shadowy presence.

I leaned close to be heard over the traffic. “Is there something wrong?”

“Let us hope not. The People's Heroes will know you're here by now. They have people watching the club. I think I've spotted four agents following us.”

I closed and opened my fist. The light changed, and we flooded across the street with the rest of the crowd. “And you didn't think to mention this before? We could have been more circumspect.”

“They knew you were here the moment you arrived. It's not their rank-and-file I'm worried about. We can handle them. Just so long as their commander doesn't show up.”

“Let us hope,” I muttered. Song Yulan was the Guardian of Shanghai. Big fish, by anyone's standards. I didn't want to meet up with anyone who she thought was trouble.

We hit the curb, and Song Yulan cut crosswise through the crowd, leading us into an open-air promenade: a cross between a futuristic shopping mall, a food court, and a stock exchange on steroids. The press around us lightened to something more in keeping with Times Square on New Year's Eve. My guide bullied her way past the other pedestrians, the only way to get anywhere in a city like this. She glanced over her shoulder, frowned, and pushed harder. I followed her backward glance. Four men shoved through the crowd. To the untrained eye they were nothing remarkable. Just a few businessmen with someplace to be, like every other businessman in the crowd. But my eye was trained. As was my escort's.

“I believe they've been instructed to delay us,” Song Yulan said. She stopped, ignoring the curses of the people forced to eddy around us.

“Are things about to get interesting, Ms Song?”

“I'd say so, M– Mr Masters.”

The men closed with us. After my recent experience with Lao Chan, I was careful to keep in mind that there could be more than just these four lurking somewhere in the crowd. Before the men could offer any threat – or even speak – Song Yulan struck out with a series of quick, precise punches at the fellow in the lead. The man blocked. He was good, but no match for my escort. I didn't have much time to make a more thorough assessment of anyone's style. The other three were upon us.

Two of the men came for me while Song Yulan was occupied with the others. One of mine held a black woolen sack open, as if I'd meekly submit to him slipping it over my head. Or not so meekly, I revised, as his friend lunged at me for a grapple. I ducked under his outstretched arms, grabbing his wrist as I slipped past. I used an elbow lock and our combined momentum to lead him around. Before he could get his bearings, I kicked at his shoulder while yanking back on his arm. The shoulder popped, and my opponent's face crumbled into pain.

The man with the bag flinched back at seeing his mate go down. I took advantage of this, tearing the bag from his hands and shoving it over his head. The drawstrings made a good garrote, and he forgot any training he might have had as he scrabbled at the rope constricting around his throat. He sagged to his knees, but I released my hold before his struggles had fully stopped.

I turned to help Song Yulan with her attackers, too late. She lowered a man's limp body to the pavement, laying him out next to his friend. She straightened and finger-combed her hair to smoothness. I tugged the brim of my hat lower.

“Come along. We need to hurry before their back-up arrives.”

The crowd around us had paused when the fight started, moving back in a ring to watch with blank-faced interest, as if street brawls were a common thing in Shanghai. For all I knew, they were. They didn't bother to part as Song Yulan and I tried to leave. She was forced to shove her way past. I followed before they could close in her wake.

The exit from the arcade dumped us into a back alley warren, the gutters between high-rises. A few twists and turns left me more lost than I had already been. Song Yulan paused at a break along one of the walls, peering out through the gloom of twilight onto a small park wedged between concrete and glass.

A woman with the build of a linebacker stood in the middle of the park, beefy arms crossed over an ample chest and a frown on her round, sun-roughened face.

“Song Yulan and Mitchell Masters. You are in violation of Quarantine Directive four-five-three. Surrender now or we will take necessary action to secure you.”

Song Yulan muttered something fit for a dockworker and rolled back to lean against the wall.

“The commander, I take it?”

“Not that bad, but if she's here, he's on his way. I'm going to get some back-up of our own. Wait here, and don't let her get her hands on you.”

“I'll do my…” She faded from sight, leaving me alone in the little alleyway. “Best.”

I peeked back around the corner.

“I can see you. Come out.”

“And who are you?” I called, playing for time. I pulled the shadows closer around me. If it came down to it and she closed the distance between us, I'd have to abandon the alleyway in favor of the maneuverability the park offered, but there weren't as many shadows. Better for movement, horrible for cover.

“I am Hekou Yangtze,” said the woman. It translated roughly into “Mouth of the Yangtze”. So, not a given name. A title, like Skyrocket or Mr Mystic.