10
A STORM OF TORMENTSThe topmost stair creaked and brought Katie to an abrupt halt, the sound knifing through her resolve like the scream of a coyote, remaining where she was for several moments she could perceive only the sound of distant laughter from the far room, and a background noise of a rhythmic nature.
One hand snaked into her bag and its clammy fingers closed around the object hidden within, the instrument of her revenge. She had wondered a million times if she'd be able to use it, but hearing that laughter hardened her heart.
They were in that room, all of them and no doubt they were all laughing about what they had done and how easy it had been. She would see their faces until her deathbed, and hear their harsh, arrogant voices drowning out her whimpers and screams. Would they remember her for the rest of their lives with such poignancy, if they lived probably not but then they weren't going to live, not many more minutes of this day?
She didn't take the object out she didn't need to at this stage, as it was safer where it was. Another guest might inadvertently come out of his room and see her, or a member of the cleaning staff and she couldn't risk that. She didn't want to be apprehended, not until after it was done; they could do what they liked with her then.
Brought up by her uncle a pastor, Katie had spent most of her twenty-two years hearing about right and wrong and how wise it was to forgive, but all that had been wiped out by events two days ago when the three men cornered her with their smiles and their smell and their swaggering, undeniable assurance.
Thou shalt not kill.
Interesting words and how blithely she had mouthed them to the children she taught, children she could not even face now that she felt so dirty, so contaminated. Steeling herself she moved along the corridor as another burst of raucous laughter boomed into her ears, inflaming her white-hot hatred.
How dare they, how could they?
Did they have no human feelings at all, what kind of people acted in such a way towards a woman?
The rhythmic background noise was revealed to Katie as the monotonous backwards and forwards sweep of a brush, a brush held by some vagrant employed because he was cheap. The man was so poor he didn't have any shoes, and as she noted his face she felt instantly repelled. Oh god he wasn't even a decent white man, but some half-breed. A sign on every door said – no blacks, breeds or Chinese – as this was an expensive hotel owned by a renowned chain from back east.
The workman didn't stop his endless task but now he did look up and meet her gaze, he actually held it and she felt enraged. How dare he a common, lowly non-entity meet the eyes of a Christian white woman? Brought up to despise the lesser races, Katie couldn't bring herself to shed this belief. Yet something in those soft, introspective, knowing eyes held her rooted to the spot.
At first she didn't understand it, but gradually she became aware that she was bringing her weapon out of its hiding place and it wasn't just because she was at the right door. She was letting the workman see it, she needed him to see it and he needed her to show him.
Eyes dipping to the pistol he finally stopped sweeping. He's disappointed in me she thought, he's disappointed and I can feel that disappointment washing over me in waves in the same way that my uncle could project his feelings when let down or slighted.
Then the man's eyes rose again to her own and she saw in them no insolence but a deep caring, a compassion, a desire to reach out and impress her with the consequences of her actions. Why was she doing this, surely she knew better; she had to know that this wasn't the way, that out of violence was born a greater pain, a greater shame.
What those men had done had degraded them, made them less than human. But what she was doing now was no better, and if she went ahead it would drag her down to their level. She could and would recover from her ordeal, and her torment would lesson and diminish, as even the greatest storm must. It had been a harsh lesson but out of the harshest lessons came the most profound truths, and if one embraced them great progress and understanding blossomed.
Still Katie felt anger she wanted to kill but even as she took another half step the broom handle lowered to touch the gun gently. It was not a strike, the movement had no power behind it instead it was a gesture and as wood made contact with metal so the man's face came nearer to hers and now she saw not some illiterate, half-breed vagrant but a wise and learned scholar who had suffered terrible things and knew full well the agony of injustice. He hadn't endured what she had but other things, and they in their way were no less pernicious.
Don't his look said, you have so much more to offer yourself and those you teach, why not be stronger than this and walk through the pain to emerge from the other side of it with your head held high. Hatred destroys itself just as an insane scorpion perishes through its own sting.
The gun slowly went back in the bag and swallowing hard, her whole body trembling with powerful emotions Katie fled back to the stairs.
She had just gone when the room door opened and a man with a harsh, cruel face appeared. He had long ago allowed himself to be consumed by rage and bitterness, and his life was a blood soaked descent into brutal violence that could end only one way. Sniffing the air he thought he could detect a familiar perfume, but all he could see was the breed sweeping up. He spat on the floor having no time for such a bum, and went back inside to his friends one of whom glanced up from a small round table on which sat a heap of coins and cards,
"Problem?" He growled.
Kirk Larson gave a sniff he wasn't sure but something didn't feel right, "I thought there was someone out on the landing."
"And is there," asked Joe Prior licking the scar on his top lip?
"Just the breed sweeping up, a Chinaman who probably doesn't even speak English."
Kirk sat down and picked up his hand it wasn't a particularly strong one but he wasn't going to let Joe and Hank guess that.
"So are we doing it or what," Hank was the youngest and very keen to earn his spurs?
Joe was more experienced, "Only four staff, no security guards and the safe is an old one from before the war. The sheriff of this town is some aging nobody well past his best, and I can't see the locals forming much of a posse so my vote is yes."
Kirk sniffed he was aware of all these facts to but still he felt unsure, there was some element here that unsettled him although he knew it wasn't the bank or the sheriff.
"There won't be much in the safe," he snarled still thinking of the breed and the look in the man's eyes – it was defiant and smart.
"Six or seven grand," said Joe. "Enough to live well on and finance our next job."
Yes thought Kirk and we need the money, the cash from the last heist was almost gone and he'd grown used to good living.
"We might as well do it before someone else does," Hank urged. "This hick town is ripe for the taking, and as Joe's said there's not much risk."
Throwing the youth a warning look Joe turned to their leader, the best shot amongst them. "What's wrong Kirk, this isn't like you?"
If the gun fighter could have put his doubts into words he would have, instead he turned his cards over and threw them away from him in disgust. "One hour," he snarled. "Then we blow this miserable piece of dust."
Having finished his chores Caine returned to the lobby of the hotel to find the manager, instead he found the woman sat waiting for him. Katie did not rise but she did touch the scarf tied around her throat removing it slowly she revealed the small mark left by the violence she had suffered.
"They raped me," she said softly giving voice to the disgust and revulsion she had felt ever since that day. "Those three men up there, playing cards and laughing amongst themselves. They dragged me into a barn and used me like a whore, and nobody did a damn thing to stop them. Afterwards it was like it was my fault, as though I'd encouraged them. I feel so dirty, so unclean and so angry. They have to pay for what they did."
Listening calmly Caine said no words but his reflected the very deepest emotions of concern and pain. Katie felt she could trust this stranger, this barefoot sweeper of floors more than her family.
"Don't you believe in revenge," she cried? "Don't you think it's right to hurt those who have hurt you?"
Caine looked at her but he was seeing something else from his past as the years fell away.
Pain, shame, a sense of failure all these things hung heavily on the shoulders of the twelve year old student as he picked himself up off the training room floor, stiffened his back and then bowed to his opponent. Chuen barely had the grace to bow back, he merely nodded his head the cocky grin still much in evidence on his harsh face. Then with a swift turn he gave the fist-in-palm salute to Master Kan and marched away.
Barely able to bring himself to look at Kan, the loser dabbed at his cut lip. It would soon heal but the shame he felt would stay with him for much longer.
"You seem troubled young Caine, would you tell me what it is that unsettles you?" The Master's voice was without judgement it invited total trust.
"He humiliated me Master, he beat me just as he said he would and with such ease. Yet I train twice as hard as he does, I really work to understand the teachings yet I can never rise to his level."
Pondering this Kan shuffled over to say gently, "It is Chuen who can never rise to your level, it is he who is humiliated by your diligence."
Not understanding the beaten fighter lifted his head a notch to see if Kan was making fun of him but there was no evidence of this.
"I do not understand sir."
Kan smiled, "Chuen will be asked to leave the temple later today, he is not the sort of student we wish to encourage at shaolin. Bullies and braggarts must find their own level in a different environment, they cannot be monks or priests or even masters. You young man will achieve all of these things."
"But I feel such anger, I want to punish Chuen."
"Seek not to judge or to punish the offender for by his actions he both judges and punishes himself. No man escapes the consequences of his actions for they are the clothing he wears, the shoes that carry him to his destiny. Anger is no more than a poison, to ingest it is to make oneself ill and this is as foolish as it is pointless."
When the woman had gone in a rush of movement Caine almost ran after her, there was something he wanted to say but the action was curtailed by boots on the stairs and the arrival of the three tough-looking drifters from the top floor. Joe and Hank ignored him as they would a dog, but Kirk locked eyes with Caine and looked deeply into him. Both saw an opponent, a challenge to be overcome yet neither knew the nature of the conflict that was to unfold.
"Who the hell are you?" Kirk spat one hand resting easily on the handle of his long-barrelled colt 45.
"I am Caine."
"What are you doing here?"
"I work, sweep the floors." Came the humble reply.
"You don't look like a floor sweeper to me, you look like trouble."
The only response was a shrug and a dipping of the chin.
"Come on Kirk, he's just some damn vagrant." Joe snapped but Larson squared his stance.
"I don't want to see you again mister is that clear, if our paths happen to cross one more time I'm going to end your sweeping days for good."
A simple nod but again there was no craven fear. Caine had no gun yet he did not fear a man who had – curious. With a snort Kirk turned from him and nodded to the other robbers, it was time to work. Watching them go the renegade priest put his brush aside he was finished in the hotel but not with this town, destiny was drawing him inexorably into a new drama.
As she stood in the bank hugging her self, Katie felt several pairs of eyes upon her and tried to ignore them. She knew what people were thinking, 'that's her she went with three men then cried rape there's a name for women like that.'
She could even hear some of the ladies around her making tutting noises, well let them she had as much right to be here as they did and she was as much of a lady as they were.
"Would you like a glass of water Miss?" The man startled her it was Nate one of the clerks he was young and smiled easily. His thick corn blond hair hung on his collar and his deep blue eyes were full of compassion.
Accepting the glass with a smile of thanks she drank the cool, refreshing liquid.
"Is there anything else I can do for you?" Nate asked and she inwardly praised him for his courage and concern, if only there were more people of his calibre.
"Mr Stevens," barked a deep, uncompromising voice rich with disapproval. It emanated by a squat, bellicose looking individual with a shinny scalp and thick jowls.
"Mr Preston?" Nate said hurriedly as the bank president made his way over.
"What do you think you are doing leaving your counter young man?" Preston ignored Katie as he came over, and this was a man who had played bridge with her father every week for ten years.
"I'm sorry sir but I was just offering this young lady a glass of water, she is a valued customer."
With a snort Preston responded, "This young woman is no lady and it isn't the duty of my staff to provide refreshments, this is a bank not a saloon."
Rising to her feet Katie slammed her glass down on a tabletop so hard that even Preston turned to look at it, his russet-coloured cheeks and small harsh eyes jumping from the glass to her.
"How dare you talk about me in that way?" She spat ending all other conversations in the bank and becoming the centre of attention. "I was attacked, do you hear me, attacked by three men who are once more staying in this town and not one of you good people has the guts or the decency to do anything about it." Voice becoming shrill Katie eased Nate aside so that she could confront his superior. "If you were a real man Mr Preston you would inform the sheriff that the men who molested me are staying in our local hotel, instead of bullying your staff and insulting the daughter of your best friend."
"I think Miss," said Preston sourly. "That you had better leave this establishment."
"Nobody leaves," barked a harsh, staccato voice from the door it belonged to one of three masked men who had just entered, pistols drawn. Katie knew who they were she recognised their eyes, and she would never forget the voice of Kirk Larson.
A gasp of horror rose from everyone else as collective terror gripped the room, even the formerly dominating Mr Preston went as white as a sheet as a bigger bully began to threaten him in a way he couldn't ignore.
"All we want is the money," said Kirk. "So I suggest that you fat man open the safe and give it to us, if you do nobody will get hurt."
Nodding submissively Preston spluttered, "all right it's this way please don't shoot."
Kirk's cruel eyes fell upon Katie but she held them hating him silently, helplessly.
Nobody was prepared for what Nate did next it was so unexpected that it even caught the robbers off guard.
Picking up a chair the youth ran at them with a snarl and all three scattered in shock, Katie let out a cry of disbelief at the foolhardiness of the action. The attack might have worked had Nate not lost his footing and tumbled off balance. Quick as a snake Kirk brought his gun around in a short arc to crunch against the boy's temple and render him inert.
"The next one dies, is that clear?"
It was to Preston who was visibly shaking with fear, mute he led Larson through to the back of the bank followed by one of the other robbers, the third robber stayed where he was covering everyone. He was amazed when Katie moved to follow the bank president,
"Where do you think you're going school teacher?"
"You've already taken my honour and self-respect, I don't think I'd even miss my life." And without pausing again she marched away from the silver colt and into the back room where Kirk and Joe stood watching Preston stuff wads of notes into a sack. They glared at her in disbelief, Kirk letting out a slow chuckle of recognition.
"Want a cut honey, well I guess you've earned something?" Grabbing a single wad of dollar bills he threw them at her feet, not even looking at the money she kicked it aside the inference that she was some kind of tramp infuriating.
Boldly she announced, "I don't want anything off you Kirk Larson or you Joe Prior," she made a point of naming them.
"Damn little bitch," Joe spat but Kirk was cooler and with two swift strides he was up to the woman his gun aimed at her slender neck.
"I guess you'll be coming with us sweet Katie, think of yourself as bonus."
"Why don't you just kill me right now?"
"Oh I'm tempted," Kirk eyed the manager who had stopped transferring cash from safe to sack. "I'd hurry if I was you fat man, I'm not very patient."
Nodding dumbly Preston continued to palm thick wads of notes watched disgustedly by Katie.
"Somehow I don't want to stay in this town anymore," she said with emphasis. "I can't stand the hypocrisy."
Larson laughed, "A hostage it is then. Joe go and check on the other prisoners."
There was a deep reluctance in the other man's eyes, "Don't you need me here to help you carry the money?"
"Our fine president and this hot tempered young filly can do that, now go and help Hank."
Still reluctant Joe sidled away clearly not wanting to take his eyes off the money nor to leave Kirk alone with it.
"He's a good man but a bit limited," Larson hissed.
"Makes three of you," Katie spat.
"Oh my we are a bitter little bee aren't we?"
Face flushed scarlet Katie shrugged the clothing from her left shoulder to reveal the fading bruises that were still in evidence.
"Yes," she said. "I am bitter and I've got good reason."
One of the women was crying to her self, weeping noisily and it was getting on Hank's nerves as she bore more than a passing resemblance to his aunt Cecile. Going over he nudged her in the side, gesturing for her to be quiet but she kept on crying. Not sure what to do the boy cocked his gun, threats always worked for his two older colleagues.
A bare foot came out nowhere to smack into his wrist hard forcing him to let go of the gun, his fingers numb with shock. Glancing up he saw the floor sweeper from the hotel, long hair dangling over both eyes face tight with disapproval. The damn breed had kicked a white man, with a snarl of fury he lunged forwards both fists balled.
The Chinaman stepped back and to the side, his hands moving in a small circle to catch Hank and propel him in the direction he wanted to go just further than he'd intended. Hank flew across the bank past his opponent and into Joe, who had just appeared from the back room. Both men collapsed in a heap, Joe losing his gun in the melee.
Stunned and winded Hank hit a wall and sank to his knees but Joe was up quickly, a tough farm hand from Iowa. With hate in his eyes he drew a knife and went at Caine.
A kick wrenched the weapon from his grasp. It moved in a crescent inwards then outwards to strike his forearm and deaden it somewhat, then Caine's other foot side kicked into Joe's middle and sent him crashing over a table to land on all fours.
Hurt but not finished the burly man forced his body to get up, thinking about the money gave him all the spur he needed. He threw a left-handed punch then a right cross. Palming the left aside Caine caught the right arm and used it as a lever to pull Joe onto a sharp elbow jab to the ribs, a back knuckle cracked the robber's jaw then the same fist delivered a short arcing punch to the temple that laid him out cold.
Head clearing Hank saw Joe's gun and went for it, Caine saw it to but instead of reaching for it he picked up something else a dime that had fallen from Joe's pocket. Fitting the coin between his first and second fingers he inverted his hand, curled it and flicked using the coin like a shuriken, turning it into a weapon.
The small disk of metal hit Hank right between the eye with a loud crack and he fell soundlessly to the boards.
Katie looked around in astonishment as the floor sweeper walked into the vault he carried no gun yet there wasn't a trace of fear on his face.
The next instant Kirk's arm was around her neck and he was holding her to him as a shield his gun aimed at her temple.
"No closer Chinaman," he snarled. "Hank, Joe, get in here!"
Slowly Caine shook his head and Katie knew that the other gunmen had been dealt with in some way by this enigmatic figure.
"What's going on," Kirk spat. "Are you guys deaf?"
"They are unconscious," Caine replied without any hint of boasting.
"Because of you," Kirk sounded incredulous?
Parting his hands the newcomer gave a modest shrug, "Your actions will gain you nothing please release this young woman."
Tightening his grip the robber began to sweat profusely, "Like hell I will you goddam half-breed, I'm taking her with me and there's not a thing you can do about it!"
A scream cut through the quiet street in hunan village causing the two visiting monks to freeze in their tracks, the younger glancing at the elder whose eyes were milky white and unmoving. Out of nowhere a bandit appeared holding a woman hostage, his machete inches from her throat and his eyes wild with desperation. "Shut up woman before I kill you, I need you to make my escape."
Moments later a posse of imperial guards appeared their own swords drawn one said, "Surrender Fei Han, you cannot escape the emperor's justice."
To which the bandit spat, "Justice you call it, the removal of my head for the stealing of some cheese? I'll take my chances with this hostage."
Caine turned to his master, but Po gently shook his head. "We must not get involved grasshopper this is nothing to do with us, Fei Han has chosen his path and now he will reap the consequences."
"But master the guards will kill him, if not here then at the executioner's block."
"It is the way of things grasshopper, those who seek a violent way inherit a violent end."
"But could we as priests not plead for clemency?"
"From the smell of Fei Han's weapon grasshopper, is it not already damp with recent blood? Did he show clemency to those under his power? How then can he expect any from those with greater force?"
Katie was amazed when Caine drew his lips back to expose his teeth and then clicked them together. At first she didn't understand but as Kirk pulled at her it became obvious. Dipping her head she bit him hard on the left wrist, sinking her teeth into his coarse hairy flesh. With a scream he let go then swung his pistol in an arc to club her senseless.
A foot knocked it from his grasp and the colt arced away, moving with unbelievable speed Caine had bridged the gap between himself and the killer and now stood facing him. Larson threw a punch without thinking but it was slapped aside. He threw another and a forearm deflected it. When he tried to grab his opponent a palm heel slammed into his chest as hard as an iron bar and threw him back.
Bouncing off the safe he had planned to rob Kirk picked up a small but sturdy looking stool and swung it at Caine's head. Sinking low the Chinaman rolled sideways and as his body flipped over his left foot swung upwards to hit Larson in the solar plexus. Completing the roll and landing on his other side Caine kicked the gunman roundhouse style to the chest. Kirk stumbled into a table winded, but on the table was a heavy ashtray made of crystal. Picking this up he turned to his nemesis,
"You're full of clever little tricks mister but this money is mine and no man on earth is keeping me from it."
Erect Caine let the crystal came at him then at the last minute he crossed his arms to block and lift the ashtray upwards exposing Kirk's body. Two kicks with the right foot pole axed the robber and he fell gasping at Katie's feet no longer so tough or invincible. As easily as he had overcome her, Caine had overcome him.
"I can't believe it," she heard herself say. "You've beaten the entire gang, do you know much reward money there is on these men's heads?"
But the lean face held no interest and Katie knew that this man wouldn't be claiming any reward.
"Can a price be put on self-respect," he asked?