Justine is used to attending parties, spent her childhood being groomed to throw the best ones with the most expensive decorations she could get her hands on. By the time she was five, she was able to hold small conversations with her parents' guests about a little of everything and now that she's thirty-six she's able to hold in-depth conversations about things like which grapes produce the best wines and which season is best for going on holiday.
Club Obi Wan is nothing like the parties she attended in France. The place is filled to bursting with men and women dressed to the nines, but there's also opium-laced smoke drifting in the air and the champagne is cheap stuff in fancy bottles. Probably salvaged from the garbage of one of the better restaurants in Shanghai. The guests here are dancing and laughing like it's their last night on earth, like their lives will be cut short on the last stroke of midnight.
It all reminds her of that old story her older brother had been fond of, the one about an arrogant Prince that thought he could outlast the plague inside a magnificent castle. The plague got in of course and killed everyone inside a room holding an ebony clock and panes of ebony glass.
"And now was acknowledged the presence of the Red Death," she murmurs to herself, gazing around at people of all nationalities. "He had come like a thief in the night."
Justine climbs a short set of stairs that leads to a private balcony of sorts, gray eyes sweeping over the throng of people until they find the handsome man that's just stepped inside. Wearing a white dinner jacket with a red carnation in its lapel, his blond hair carefully styled until it met with Justine's high standards, he's able to blend in with the mass of people.
She follows Indiana's gaze to the Chinese men seated in one of the private booths, three of them all together and sharing the same fine cheekbones and small ears. Lao Che and his sons. One of them has a bandage wrapped around his hand and she can't quite bite back a smile as she remembers how he came by his wound. That'll teach him to sneak in and steal things from our camp.
She'd been half-asleep at the time, curled up against Indiana's side when the man known as Kao Kan had come inside on quiet feet. He might have stolen the little jade urn holding Nurhachi, but he'd stumbled over one of Indiana's boots and fell right on top of the collapsible table. He and the table's contents both hit the ground after that, the urn rolling under the cot and pages of Justine's English-to-Chinese dictionary crumpling where it landed on its fore edge against the rug.
She and Indiana had both jumped off the cot and had Kan tackled back to the ground before he could scramble out of their tent and he wasn't allowed to leave until they learned who'd sent him. They didn't get any information until Indiana had held him down and Justine had made a clean cut through the man's left index finger.
Now here they all are, meeting like civil people in a public place to avoid any more debacles. And as she watches the exchange, it almost seems to go according to plan even after the pretty blonde that had been singing on stage comes to sit between Indiana and Lao. In fact, Justine is almost ready to call it a night when Indiana yanks the woman against his side with a two-pronged fork denting the side of the red and gold dress she's wearing, the sequins flashing in the low light.
Justine rolls her eyes skyward, wondering why she even bothers to pray anymore.
The brunette slowly makes her way back to the ground floor, doing her best not to stand out as she draws steadily closer in case her friend needs backup. She's made it three feet away when the three men begin to laugh, a genuinely amused sound that shocks Justine given the fact that they've just handed over a gorgeous diamond the size of a toddler's palm.
Over Indiana's head, Justine meets Wu Han's gaze and holds it for a moment, questioning. Her friend manages a subtle shrug of one thin shoulder, both of them glancing back to the table and the people occupying it. The blonde is back in her own chair, but the Chinese men are still laughing as though they've just heard the world's greatest joke.
"Did I miss you telling a joke or something," Indiana asks, tugging at the collar of his dress shirt. Justine would normally smack his hand for that, ruining the starched collar she'd arranged so carefully, but just now her attention is on the champagne glass resting on the turntable in front of her friend. "What's so funny?"
"I think I'll have the diamond back now, Doctor Jones," Lao says, a smug grin showing off pearly white teeth.
"Yes, and I'll have Vivien Leigh while we're at it." Lao, still laughing, brings a vial of blue liquid out of his coat pocket and Justine can feel her stomach drop into her satin dancing shoes. "What's that supposed to be?"
"The antidote."
"For what?"
"For the poison you just drank." To confirm this, Indiana runs a finger over the bottom of the champagne glass and comes away with a gritty powder on the pad of his index finger, an expression of dawning horror making him look like a little boy that's scared of the monster under his bed. "I'm afraid it works fast, so I'll be having that diamond now." He slams the multi-faceted gem down on the table, allowing Chen to take it before he tugs the woman back into his lap, the fork pressed flush against the bare skin revealed by the dress.
"Lao," the woman growls, blue eyes panicked. Behind them, Wu Han is bringing a small pistol out of his pocket, resting it beneath the silver tray balanced on his right arm. Justine brings her own small gun out of her white clutch, moving until she's standing just behind Lao with the barrel of it pressed against the back of his skull.
"Hello," she greets, bending down so she can speak in his ear. "I'm sure you don't know who I am, I'm not as famous as the doctor here, but your son knows me." Lao's eyes cut to his left and Kan has grown pale against the stark black of his suit. "If you don't want to lose much more than a finger, I suggest that you hand the antidote to Doctor Jones." He swallows hard, gaze flicking to the other pistol trained on him.
"Good service around here," Indiana smirks. "I wouldn't test her patience if I were you."
"I've got very little of it left after dealing with him for the past six years." Lao has his arm outstretched and is ready to hand the vial to Indiana when a champagne cork has them all glancing to the left, Justine able to spot a group of laughing people a few tables away.
"Indy?" Wu Han's voice is strangled and hesitant, and Justine's eyes go wide as she takes in the red blooming against his chest. She sucks in a sharp breath when she realizes what happened, anger burning in her chest as she whips around to look at Lao's older son. Her eyes catch the dull glint of metal as the pistol is tucked back under the table, Kan seeming all too pleased with himself until the butt of Justine's pistol cracks against his skull. Lao doesn't fare much better, Justine snatching the antidote out of his hand before grabbing a fistful of his hair and smashing his face against the table.
Across from her, Wu Han's been lowered into Indiana's abandoned chair, eyes glazing and skin taking on a waxy hue. He's already gone, and Indiana will be following him soon if he doesn't get the antidote.
"Indy," she hisses, holding up the vial between two fingers. "I think it's time to exit stage right."
"I'm ready to exit just about any direction, Tina." Justine scrambles to get around the table, making it almost halfway before a skeletal hand wraps around her wrist and jerks her backwards against a thin chest. Lao's skinnier son is surprisingly strong, wrestling the antidote out of her hand and tossing it aside along with her pistol. "Tina!"
"Get the antidote!" She jerks her head back, hearing the satisfying crunch of a broken nose followed by a pained grunt. "Let me go!" Chen only tightens his hold on her, yanking on her perfectly styled hair until its hanging around her face in loose waves. Her eyes meet the woman standing nearby, the pretty blonde with the wonderful dress and a serving tray in her hand.
"Duck," the woman shouts. Justine goes limp without warning, tucking her chin against her chest right as the other woman swings. There's a clang and then Justine is free to move again, rolling off to the side and watching as the woman hits Chen one last time square in the face.
"Why'd you help me?" The blonde tugs her up to her feet and brushes off the maroon fabric of Justine's dress.
"Because women need to work together. Besides, Chen was a real creep. I've been wanting to hit him since I first laid eyes on him."
"Justine Laurent."
"Willie Scott."
"Now that you two have been introduced, do you think we can leave before our company wakes up," Indiana asks, grasping an arm of each woman and propelling them towards the door.
"I'm not going anywhere with you, bub." There's fire in Willie's eyes that Justine can relate to, but there's also a hint of blue poking out the front of her dress that's sloshing around. The antidote.
"Do you think your ex-boyfriend is going to be pleased to learn that you ran away with his diamond? You might as well tag along before he wakes up and sends his goons after us."
"He'll think you two stole his precious diamond."
"If that's really something you believe then I'll be happy to leave you right here." They all come to a stop in a hallway that leads to a service exit, Indiana turning a steely gaze on Willie. "Give me the antidote and I'll be on my way." Willie hands the vial over without complaint, watching as he downs it in one swallow.
"Do you really think he'll send his men after me?"
"I wouldn't drag you along if I didn't." Her gaze seeks out Justine's, white teeth sinking into a plush red lip.
"He's right for once," Justine says, shrugging a shoulder. "Lao Che isn't an idiot despite all indicators to the contrary, he'll know who stole his diamond. On top of that, you knocked his favorite son unconscious with a serving tray."
"He had it coming," Willie says, defensive in spite of the slight smile turning up the corners of her mouth. There's a moment of indecision and then she's heaving out an impressive sigh and stomping on ahead of them. "Are you coming or not?" Indiana turns to look at Justine, arching his brows as though to say this is a monumentally bad idea.
"You're the one who wanted to get out of the office, Indy. I was perfectly happy staying at home and sending my husband threatening notes in the mail." Willie goes storming down a side hall, heels clacking on the concrete floor. "Does she not realize we're heading for the door at the end of this hall?" They get their answer a moment later when Willie goes storming down a hall on the left, grumbling under her breath.
"It's got an exit sticker on the front of it. How is she missing that?"
"…. It's just not fair," Willie's saying, voice slowly getting louder as she really works herself up. "It's not right. Why shouldn't I get to keep the diamond and live? Finders keepers, and all that jazz." Justine gets a gentle hold on Willie's elbow and steers her out the right door, leading her into the car that their companion is sitting in.
"We actually made it out of there without being shot at." Indiana's grinning, an infectious thing that has Li laughing. He's barely ten years old, but he's a more competent driver than some people Justine knows, herself included. Li pulls away from the curb and even manages to go the speed limit for about three blocks before the gunfire starts up, one of the bullets cracking the side mirror.
"And I cracked a nail!"
"Get down!"
"Gimme a gun," Justine shouts, holding out a hand and peering over the back of the seat. There's another pop of gunfire and then Willie's yanking her down by the back of her dress, spiderweb cracks spreading over the rear window before another round of gunfire shatters it entirely, the glass raining over the seat like a waterfall.
"Shorty, step on it!"
"I'm trying," Li says, almost shouting to be heard as his little foot punches down on the gas. "Hold onto your pants!" The car lurches dangerously as they take a sudden turn, the cab shaking when they land back on all four wheels and continue down towards the small airfield. "Who the heck is the lady?"
"Willie Scott," she says, popping out an arm for a handshake. She's grinning like the cat that got the cream, all pearly white and perfect. "You might have heard of me. I'm a singer."
"You must not be famous then because Miss Tina doesn't talk about you when she's drunk." Scarlet colors Justine's cheeks and she sinks lower in her seat, the sudden flashbacks of humming along to Bing Crosby while nursing a bottle of wine making her head throb.
"Maybe focus on the road, Shorty," Justine advises, skillfully avoiding Willie's glare. "Take a left up here." He jerks the wheel sharp enough to have the three passengers falling to the right, Indiana's pistol flying out of his hand and right out the window. "Maybe I should be the one driving, Indy."
"I'd like to live through this little adventure," he grumbles. "A right and then straight on, Shorty."
"But that's the long way," Li complains, frowning.
"And that's just fine. I shot Lao Che's driver before I lost my gun."
"But—"
"Wan Li, I'm not asking a second time." The kid shrinks down in the seat, but he follows directions without another word. Indiana sits up fully and scowls down at Justine. "This is your fault, you know. You just have to spoil him."
"Oh no, you spoil him even more than I do," she states, jabbing a finger against his chest. "Which one of us lets him eat ice cream for breakfast? Which one of us decided to teach him how to drive rather than focusing on his lessons? I am the responsible one here!"
"Like hell you are!"
"I'm not having this argument again." She shakes her head and turns her back on him, arms crossed over her chest. Indiana scoffs and mumbles something under his breath, and then Justine is turning back around. "What was that?"
"You know damn well what I—"
"Shut up," Willie yells, shoving a hand against each of their chests. "In just one night I have been shot at, threatened, prodded with a fork, and I'm pretty sure that kid up there gave me whiplash! If I hear one more word out of either of you that even sounds like you're arguing, then I'll put you over my knee and give you a good spanking! Is that understood?" It's like getting admonished by their parents all over again, both of the adults deflating and lowering their heads.
"Yes."
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, ma'am," the say together. Willie huffs out a breath and leans back in her seat between them, raking her fingers through her hair until it no longer resembles a bird's nest.
The hangar for Pan American Airways is quiet by the time the group arrives, most of the employees home with their families for a quiet meal before bed. Li parks near the terminal gate and a tall white man jogs over as they begin getting out of the car.
"Doctor Jones," the man asks, British. Indiana nods and goes around to open the trunk, handing off a couple of suitcases to Justine. "My name is Art Webber. I believe I spoke to your assistant yesterday."
"I am not his assistant," Justine says, shoving past him.
"Yes, well…. I've managed to reserve four seats, but I'm afraid they're in the back of a cargo plane full of live poultry."
"And this is why plans need to be made in advance, Jones. If you had let me know two days ago that you wanted out of Shanghai so soon after the deal, then we could have been on something that served alcohol." She stops to face Indiana, handing him one of their suitcases. "Instead we get chickens. I hope you're happy."
"And now was acknowledged the presence of the Red Death. He had come like a thief in the night." The Masque of the Red Death, Edgar Allan Poe