The Gaze of Caprice (The Caprice Trilogy Book 1) (65 page)

              “With the database you’ll have more about the money flows than Yamila can provide,” said Xiaoyu.

              “That’s not the point, Ray,” said Mason, “The point is we’ve made the decision to bring Yamila in.”

              “Diana’s more valuable than Yamila,” said Xiaoyu.

              “Valuable to who?” said Mason, “To you?”  Xiaoyu sat silent.  But the parking lot didn’t.  A white 1999
Isuzu Trooper
pulled into the parking lot at half speed, slowing down as it came to the storefront of
Fondness Fitness
.  The vehicle parked horizontal on top of four parking spaces.

              “Mason, there’s a vehicle approaching the store,” said Xiaoyu, “I’ll catch up later.”  Three men dressed in dark slacks and dark shirts exited the vehicle heading for the storefront.

              “Ray, there’s nothing to catch up,” said Mason, “Diana is not part of our direction.  If you’re trying to get us to include her you’re breaking protocol and testing your own limits.”

              “Mason, three men got out of the vehicle and they’re going to the gym,” said Xiaoyu.

              “We don’t care,” said Mason.

              “Diana’s still in there getting the database,” said Xiaoyu, “For you.  She’s getting it for you.”

              “Now you’re pissing me off,” said Mason, “This has nothing to do with me.  It’s about you and her.  You’re an agent in play.  You do what you’re told.  That’s the way the game works.”

              “There’s no game here,” said Xiaoyu, “They’re going in the store.  She’s still in there.”

              “Stay put,” said Mason, “You leave after they leave.”

              “No,” said Xiaoyu, “I’m here and you’re there.”

              “If you start the engine you’re sanctioned,” said Mason, “Do you understand me?  Remember what we talked about.  Remember the Yellow Card.  You want a thing rattling in your brain then try me.” 

• • •

Xiaoyu started the engine.  Mason opened a separate window on his laptop.  The window was black with flashing cursor.  He typed in a password; a new screen appeared.  The screen had a grey background and a white cross section of a digitized human head.   The words
Lee, Reagan
showed at the top of the screen.   Mason clicked his cursor and an empty dialogue box appeared covering part of the human head.   Mason typed the word
yellow
in small caps.  He hit enter.  Another dialogue box appeared explaining in brief detail the effects of the word
yellow
.  Mason was given two options
ok
or
cancel
.  He clicked
ok
.  It took over a second for the satellite to receive the signal then it relayed the signal to the chip, Xiaoyu’s chip.

  Xiaoyu had put the SUV in gear and was slowly rolling forward when he felt a pain in his right hand and felt the muscles go tight.  It was happening.  He knew it.  The last thing he could do was put the car in park, engine still running.  He shrugged his shoulders sliding down in his seat.  His head snapped back violently banging against the seat cushion over and over.  The side of his mouth twisted.  Saliva began to leak out.  His ears began to ring loud but distant like the Moon whistling.  His body shifted at an awkward angle bumping the driver’s side window.  His whole body began to gallop like a horse. 
Once
. 
Twice
. 
Three times
.  It kept going.  His eyes rolled back into his head.  His body stopped, stopped galloping.  His head tilted forward at a side angle.  He vomited a mouth full.  It covered his shirt.  His chin came to the rest on his chest in his own vomit.  The violence was over.  He sat hunched over in the seat, silent except for a deep hum coming from the back of his throat through his nostrils.

• • •

Xiaoyu woke up to an almost daylight.  The night was breathing its last breaths.  He felt a stinging pain from his insides.  It took a moment’s notice to realize the pain wasn’t from his insides, only inside his pants.  He had lost motor response control over his extremities and internal organs.  When he lost consciousness, everything in him came out.  He had spent several unconscious hours soaking in his own excrement.  It corroded his skin.  His fingers tingled as he regained control of them wrapping them around the steering wheel.  He was covered in his own fluids, stewing in them.  The smell was an alarm.  He couldn’t stay that way.  He drove across the street to the
Fondness Fitness
storefront.  He parked the SUV on the curb and looked through the window—nothing.  He used his regaining strength to get himself out of the car and to the store window.  He peered inside and saw no sign of life.  He drove to the back of the complex parking in front of the back door.  The door was locked even though he had picked it the night before.  He picked it again and disabled the alarm system.  With the newly conceived daylight the gym had an eerie feeling.  Fondness wasn’t the word.  Xiaoyu looked over the machines like dormant robots.  He saw nothing that he knew belonged to Diana.  He went to the women’s changing room.  The room wasn’t big but was enough.  There were yellow lockers with purchased locks hanging on half them.  The locker room was clean and smelled of cleaner.  The showers were dry.  The only thing out of place was Diana.  He left her in the gym.  She wasn’t there anymore.  He checked the men’s locker room.  Nothing.  Leaving the gym he locked the door behind him. 

Like a grieving family member, he remembered to take care of himself.  There was nothing he could do for her.  He drove home.  Diana’s weekend bag was still in his apartment.  He threw his clothes away before showering.  He had a flash from his own memory. 
The shower
. 
His sister
. 
The last time
.  He found a painful symmetry; he was in the shower wondering about a woman again.  Thinking about his sister made him realize his own capability.  He wasn’t limited to eight year-old legs.  Now, he had other ways to run.  He called Diana’s cell phone—voicemail.  He sprayed himself with skin paint before getting dressed.  He went outside to the SUV with two towels, one wet; one dry.  Taking the wet towel he wiped the seat before throwing the towel away.  He sat on the dry towel and drove to Diana’s apartment.  He knocked on her door—no answer.  He knocked harder.  The door didn’t open.  He opened it himself.  Her apartment was together.  It wasn’t disheveled or tainted by a hurried exit or unwanted entry.  The apartment was empty but he called out her name for his own sake.  The name seemed to echo even in the quiet.  He tried her cell phone again, then again.  A husband, brother or boyfriend would have phoned the police then driven around the city looking.  Xiaoyu was a chess piece.  He wasn’t supposed to try or care.  Everything had been decided.  If Diana didn’t return on her own, he would never find her.  He thought about the Agency and its resources.  They could find her but not him.  He was an Agency pawn.  Pawns weren’t powerful.  It had ended.  It was over.  There was nothing he could do.  The Agency controlled the board or half of it.  He was on the half they controlled, an agent in play.  Play was dead for now.

He went home and sat in quiet.  He tried not to think about Diana.  If he thought about her, he tried not to think what had happened to her.  It was all so circular.  The thoughts went round and round in his head.  He sat in a state of mental arrest for hours before his phone rang.  He rushed to answer it.  It wasn’t as expected or wanted.

“Meet me at the Lake Gardens Park,” said Mason, “One hour.”  Xiaoyu didn’t say anything.  Mason hung up.

• • •

The Lake Gardens Park was in the center of Kuala Lumpur.  Although it was a public recreation and botanical park, there were many secluded spots among the greenery.  Mason was standing on a white bridge near the gazebo.    Xiaoyu saw him from fifty meters away.  As Xiaoyu approached, Mason began walking to the opposite side of the bridge toward a hill covered with trees.  Mason marched up the hill and disappeared in the tree cover.  Xiaoyu followed him into the green room.  Mason was looking down when Xiaoyu caught up to him.  They were alone.

              “Do you have anything you want to say about last night?” asked Mason.  Xiaoyu stared at Mason without saying anything.

              “You do understand you were outside the lines,” said Mason, “I warned you about that.  We give you license for a lot of things.  But you’re not without limits.  I told you that when we first met.  You would have one limit, me.”

              “What are your limits?” asked Xiaoyu.

              “A successful operation,” said Mason, “You’d be surprised how limiting that is.  You can do anything you want with your life, but to be successful you have to have blinders on, see a direction and walk it.  My job is no different.”

              “It is different,” said Xiaoyu, “You play people, you play with them.  That should be a limit.  Do you even know what happened to her?”

              “No,” said Mason, “I could find out.  But you know I’m not going to do that.  No reason.  All decisions are over.”

              “Find out,” said Xiaoyu.

“You know.  As soon as they told me they found Mykola Voloshyn with no head, I knew you got greedy,” said Mason, “You took his head to have his secret.”

“We’re not here about Voloshyn,” said Xiaoyu, “We’re here because of you.”

              “I’m gonna lay it all out for you, OK?” said Mason, “You’re an excellent field agent.  The best I’ve seen.  But you’re still young, still impulsive.  You watch cartoons on TV and get excited.  I have to watch the big screen cuz on it’s the big picture.”

“I see your picture!  No one is in it,” said Xiaoyu, “You have Standing because she’s the only one who’s as alone as you are.”

“She is alone,” said Mason, “She’s also alive.  She’s over twice your age.  Started playing this game before you were born and she’s here to tell her own stories.  Some asshole doesn’t do it for her.  Cuz she’s still around.”

              “Do you really trust someone who’s been playing games that long?” said Xiaoyu.

              “You’re proof I can’t trust someone who hasn’t,” said Mason, “You fell for your target, Ray.  That’s classic childish bullshit.”

              “Did she deserve to die because of it?” asked Xiaoyu.

              “Ask yourself,” said Mason, “She was there because of you.”

              “I understood the situation,” said Xiaoyu, “I could have covered her.  Because of you I couldn’t”

              “Now’s the part where you’re not seeing the big picture,” said Mason, “You put me in a situation where the only call I could make is the call I made.  I could have given you a red card instead of yellow.  I should’ve given you a red a year ago when you cut off Voloshyn’s head.  And I should’ve done it to protect the integrity of
Caprice
.  But you’re here.  Honestly you should’ve used whatever you learned from Voloshyn and dropped off grid but here you are still with us and on the grid.”  Xiaoyu’s gaze dropped.

“If you’d dropped off grid you wouldn’t be here,” said Mason, “I would have had to tell my superiors you escaped and they would’ve cut our funding.  The whole program would be on its way into the ground and you’d be somewhere staying inside hoping our satellites didn’t pick you up.  I gave the time to you, Ray, time enough to kill
Caprice
, to shut us down.  Why haven’t you?” 

              Xiaoyu didn’t say anything.  There was nothing for him to say, not even in his native Mandarin.  He looked at Mason then looked behind him at the lush greens, full of life.  He turned around and started walking.

              “You choose now to walk away, you’re still on the grid, Ray,” Mason paused as his voice softened, “There’s no where in the world where I can’t find you.”  Xiaoyu turned around abruptly.

              “You sure that’s what you want?” said Xiaoyu, “If I ever see you again, I’ll kill you.  Promise.”

              Xiaoyu turned around and kept walking.  The sound of his feet crushing damp leaves gave a faint echo, as did his voice.

              “If I see you again.”

The airplane descended on Chek Lap Kok Island at 4:45pm.  The afternoon was sunny giving the water a solid-looking surface from 10,000 feet.  The
Cathay Pacific A330
airplane touched down on the Third Runway at Hong Kong International Airport.  The airport was crowded and the terminals were long.  The duty-free shops were just the opposite, short and nearly empty.  Passengers seemed too busy to be distracted by brand names.  Mr. Li had time so he stepped in the shop to have a look.  The brands were popular.  Mr. Li looked for one name in particular.  On the right near the cashier was a new bottle with an old recipe.  There was a man in Hong Kong who was fond of
Gordon’s Dry Gin
and Mr. Li had made the trip to see him.  Mr. Li paid 150 Hong Kong dollars for a one-liter bottle of namesake dry gin and had it wrapped, packed and bagged.

              He walked through the airport feeling like an old man fishing.  He knew the area but it was a new spot.  The city of Hong Kong was a second generation high-tech product.  It had newer features than the last time but was still powered by electricity.  He knew the city but not the airport.  He was anxious to get back to where he knew.  He didn’t do anything old-fashioned. 
No taxis
. 
No rentals
.  He took the shuttle.  Chek Lap Kok Island to Kowloon Station was a little over a half hour ride.  Kowloon station was in old Flying Dragons territory.  But the archetypal Hong Kong map drawn by the Triads had gone extinct.  Like most extinctions, it wasn’t the first blow that did the trick.  It was the second blow that made recovery from the first too extraordinary to manage.  The first blow was in 2001.  It was internal, a cancer.  One part of the Triad body turned against the rest.  All but two branches were affected by the Triads’ civil war.  The rest were dusted up in the sweep.  The keystone that held the war together went missing—out of Hong Kong.  The police didn’t understand why the tattooed man who started the war was allowed to leave the country, in another government’s hands.  The decision was made at the highest level and wasn’t explained to any other.  The Hong Kong Police Force in general and the Gang Unit in particular took out their frustration on the other Triads.  They swept the rest of the Triads up out of disappointment over the one that got away.  Regardless of their frustration, something had to be done to curb the violence.  The Hong Kong Police made the biggest show of force in their collective history.  The future Hong Kong was better for it.  Ten years later, Mr. Li could go anywhere he wanted without fear of reprisal.  He wasn’t so easily recognized without his tattoo showing.  Ten years made his chest fuller, his neck thicker and his cheeks smaller.  There was one other counterintuitive difference.  Ten years gave Mr. Li a full head of hair.  When he was in Hong Kong last, he had no hair at all.

              Mr. Li got off the shuttle with everything in hand, a packed shoulder bag and a gift of
Gordon’s Gin
.  The weather from Handan to Beijing was much the same.  Hong Kong was noticeably warmer.  The air was sticky and his body gathered moisture as he walked.  He was running on short notice for thirty-two hours.  He had slept on the train from Handan to Beijing, before waiting six hours to board the next flight to Hong Kong, leaving him no time to make accommodation in the city. Parts of the city were unrecognizable to him.  Parts of him were unrecognizable as well.  Years before when he called the city home, the sun kept his skin dark.  Up north, sunlight wasn’t as frequent.  Visits were less periodic—especially the visits to his skin.  The long absent sun left his skin shades lighter.  And he spent his idle time inside.  He was unknown to the sun and city, a complete stranger.

              He walked through the streets of Kowloon with his eyes hidden behind sunglasses.  He scanned the entire street.
Buildings
. 
People
. 
Signs
. 
Lights
. 
Sky
.  He saw a tall multi-storied building.  Instinct told him it was a hotel.  It didn’t look like anything else, not to him.  He got his first glimpse through two buildings separated by an older shorter wanna-be.  He crossed the street and rounded the corner.  The hotel was in the middle of the next block.  Mr. Li kept walking until he was in front of the hotel,
Treasure Bay Tower
.  It was a mixed-use building.  It had high-rise condominiums on the top twelve floors, ten floors of office space and the first twenty-four floors were the hotel.  The building was a statue of Hong Kong’s champion, the new economy high-rise.  Real estate prices in Hong Kong stayed depressed for years after control of Hong Kong returned to China.  Years later, the market realized Hong Kong was still Hong Kong and prices shot back up.  This spurred builders to build in the new millennium.  Standing in the shadow of a new Hong Kong, Mr. Li felt less dangerous in a much safer city.

• • •

              The 2008 global downturn in real estate prices hit Hong Kong hard.  A ripple effect from North America to South Asia turned most major economies upside down.  In 2011, the price range for hotels and apartments were weighed down by fear.  Even though Mr. Li didn’t accept fear as a perpetual state of mind, he had long benefitted from the fear of others.  It was the same.  Global economic fears left tourists at home.  Hotels—even in prime markets—were lowering prices.  Mr. Li took advantage.  He was able to get a great deal on a one night stay and he did it all without a credit card.  He insisted on paying cash upfront.  Because the cash was on the counter, the front desk manager agreed.  Mr. Li checked in with the passport of a man who had never been to Hong Kong, a Frenchman—Alain Metayer. 

              Mr. Li went upstairs to his room, dropped his shoulder bag and threw water on his face.  He proceeded downstairs to the second floor and the hotel’s business center.  He spent four hours on the Internet doing research. 
Maps
. 
Graphs
. 
Structures
. 
Timetables
. 
Ownership titles
. 
Corporations
.  Separately, they were random scraps of public information.  Mr. Li put the scraps together in his head.  He printed out the information fitting it all together.  But it was still scattered scraps printed on A4 paper.  The scrapbook was in his mind.  The next morning Mr. Li treated himself to the hotel’s buffet breakfast.  With a full stomach and clearer picture in his head.  He went to the hotel concierge to arrange a taxi.  His jacket covered everything except for his hands.  He covered his hands by hiding them in his pockets.  The rest was still available to see despite his jacket.  He didn’t spray his arms with polymer spray as was his habit.  He wanted to be known as he once was.  He gave the taxi driver an address that was known to most taxi drivers.  He didn’t have to repeat himself.  The drive took twenty-seven minutes door-to-door.

• • •

The Wesley Hong Kong
was in Kowloon, so Mr. Li didn’t waste time crossing the harbor bridge.  And he didn’t waste time with the doorman.  He put cash in the doorman’s hand and pushed through the front door on his own. 
The Wesley
had remained unchanged since Mr. Li’s first visit.  But it had been updated.  The classic interior and design was the same as always.  The difference was the clientele.  There were more Mainland Chinese members than before.  And everyone was attached to a wireless device. 
Tablet
. 
Smartphone
. 
PDA
. 
The Wesley
prided itself on uninterrupted wireless Internet connection everywhere.  Local circulation newspapers were delivered six days a week.  But they were read only by the long-tenured members and only out of habit.  So much information was available online.  Mr. Li walked up the rug-covered main staircase and turned left.  He walked boldly through the wooden doors of the second-floor restaurant and kept going.  If he was spoken to, he didn’t notice.  He walked with his bag over his shoulder.  He was eyed by wait staff but looked as if in a hurry.  They left him alone and without hospitality.  Hospitality took too much time. Mr. Li paused in the middle of the restaurant and looked around.  He drew considerably less attention than his first visit to the club.  He wasn’t breaking any rules.  He was a child the first time.  A grown man could pass through
The Wesley
unscathed.  Dress was unimportant.  Members of the club were in various stages of dress or undress.  There were racket ball and tennis courts and a half-sized pool.  Few members came formally dressed since the 80s.  Ideas had changed.  Being a club member was well-dressed enough.  As new money became old money, the desire to show off waned.  Only the
nouveau riche
had something to prove.  Mr. Li’s jacket and pants fit in more than he knew.  He headed to the back patio.  Walking toward the patio he saw something that hadn’t changed.  Senior members of the Moon Dragons still reserved the back table under the glass canopy.   

Mr. Li reached in his bag and pulled out the gift-wrapped gin.  He stood in the doorway leading to the patio.  An old man looked up at him then looked at him.  The look was long enough to be a study.  The old man studied Mr. Li like a guilty man studying his accuser.  He looked as if he had something to lose. Mr. Li stood like he was waiting for permission.  The old man gave Mr. Li a nod.  Mr. Li. nodded back, still waiting.  The old man motioned to the other two men at his table.  The other two men looked toward Mr. Li.  They seemed to recognize him as well.  The two men stood up and walked toward Mr. Li.  One of the men was big and stocky.  The other was slim.  Both took time to shake Mr. Li’s hand before walking out leaving the old man at the table.

              Mr. Li walked over to the table and extended his hand to the old man.  The old man shook hands with Mr. Li.  Mr. Li slid the gift-wrapped gin across the table toward the old man.

              “
I remember so much about you
,” said the old man.  Mr. Li pointed to the box of gin.

              “
The first thing I remember about you
,” said Mr. Li.  The old man started opening the box.  He tore the paper off and lifted the lid.  Looking at the bottle of gin made the old man smile.  He gave Mr. Li a grin.

              “
Your memory is quite good I’d say
,” said the old man, “
You were real young then
.”

              “
You teach lessons that stick
,” said Mr. Li.

              “
That was the point
,” said the old man.

              “
Point taken
,” said Mr. Li.

              “
You vanished
,” said the old man, “
We thought you were dead
.”

              “
When you first met me what did you think
?” asked Mr. Li.

              “
I thought you were different
,” said the old man, “
That’s why we chose you. You were special
.”

              “
I’ve learned something
,” said Mr. Li, “
Death waits when he wants to.  He’s a curious bastard.  Sometimes he gets a feeling about you and he waits.  He wants to know what he’s getting when he gets it
.”

              “
That I can understand
,” said the old man, “
We did the same.  We had to know what we were getting with you as well.  If we left you with the others, we would never have known
.”  Mr. Li looked off to the side.

              “
Let’s enjoy this now
,” said the old man, holding up two fingers and the bottle as the waiter walked by.

              “
How are things
?” asked Mr. Li.

              “
In Hong Kong
?” asked the old man.

              “
In general
,” said Mr. Li.

              “
Well if you knew where to find us, I suppose you know much about us still
,” said the old man.

              “
I know that you are Dragon Head
,” said Mr. Li.

              “
Please don’t call me that
,” said the old man.

              “
What should I call you
?” asked Mr. Li.

              “
Uncle
,” said the old man, “
Like they did Martin
.”

              “
Uncle
,” said Mr. Li.

              “
You don’t still let them call you Gui do you
?” asked the old man.

              “
It’s been a long time since anyone has called me that
,” said Mr. Li.

              “
And what do they call you now
?” asked the old man.