Author's Note: This chapter is a little different. I'm trying it from John's point of view. This presents difficulties on several levels. First - he's male and I'm not. Second - the character is Chinese, who are naturally reserved. And third - he's John Lee, for criminy sake! Assassin extraordinaire, tried and true loner. How do you get into the head of someone like that?! Eeek! Ah well, I did my best. As always, enjoy! And please do leave a review if you liked it. It's heartening to know that others share my love for John and Meg. A special shout out to Diane H. for her lovely letter. She inspired me to have another go at this chapter sooner than I would have.

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Chapter 4

While Meg and Mia were discussing his past, John was making the rounds of banks in Beijing where he held accounts. Having changed into a gray silk Armani suit, and with his height and demeanor, he made a formidable figure. At the Bank of China, Bank of East Asia, and Bank of Tokyo, he closed out his accounts, liquidating some of the balances to cash, US dollars and Chinese RMB's, and transferring the remainder to his account at Finsbury Bank and Trust on Grand Cayman. At Credit Lyonnais and Union Bank of Switzerland, he made some modifications to his accounts, leaving with the new paperwork in his briefcase. Working for Mr. Wei for twenty years had been educational as well as lucrative. John had become very good at hiding and growing money. Financial matters now taken care of, he caught a cab, still needing to visit a couple of places before heading to the hotel.

As the taxi drove through the streets of Beijing, John should have taken in the sights since he would likely not be seeing them again. Instead, his thoughts were of Meg Coburn. If he was honest with himself, she was never far from his thoughts, though since his return he'd had other things to occupy his mind.

Before his return to China the year before, John had been aware that his mother was ill, though not to what extent. She never alluded to it herself in the occasional letters that reached him. He was only aware of it at all from second hand reports by whomever was looking after her and Miasu at the time. The illness had worsened during those last few months he had worked for Mr. Wei.

John had thought twenty years was enough time spent in Mr. Wei's service. He wanted out. To be free to return to his family, to be with his mother during her final years, to try to become acquainted with his sister after missing most of her childhood, and to return to school and continue his studies.

Mr. Wei was not sympathetic, but he recognized that John's intentions of leaving were serious. He had used the threat of violence against John's family to "persuade" him to finish three final jobs. But John's mother was more fragile than anyone realized. After John failed to finish his last job, his mother and Miasu were hustled from city to city riddled with fear and worry for John and for themselves. The stress had been too great. By the time John reached them, the damage had been done. Healthcare in China, while adequate, is not good. He wanted to take his mother to Europe, or perhaps America, but she had refused to leave. China was her home and she would spend her last days there. After her death, he had focused his energy and attention on Mia. And tried to forget Meg Coburn.

While not entirely inexperienced with women, his affairs had been infrequent and fleeting. It was simply a part of his life that didn't concern him a great deal. He had always been introverted and private. A loner. And the few women he met in his line of work didn't interest him. Expensive escorts, wives, sisters, daughters, and/or girlfriends of business associates were usually the extent of the women he came into contact with. Until he met Meg.

From their first encounter with Mr. Wei's men, she had impressed him with her gun handling skills as well as her presence under fire. She didn't flinch, she didn't give in, and she could give as good as she got. Her humanity also drew him. While she radiated a fierce independence and preached self-preservation, she felt a deep respect for human life. Though their acquaintance was brief, he had developed a deep and abiding affection for her. And perhaps even more important, he respected her. Few people earned his respect, and even fewer kept it. He couldn't quite define the nature of their relationship, even to himself, but she had made an indelible impression.

The taxi pulled up in front of the John Bull Pub in the Chaoyang District. John asked the driver to wait and stepped out, heading inside the building. The JB Pub was located in the diplomatic area and was frequented by British expatriates from the embassy who wanted an authentic homeland feel. John scanned the early dinner crowd, spotting who he was looking for. He passed the pool tables and large screen televisions showing the latest soccer match as he reached a booth in a far corner of the establishment. The booth's lone occupant rose at John's approach and held out his hand.

"Andrew, thank you for meeting me," John said, taking his hand and shaking it. Andrew Stilton was currently a high ranking employee at the British Embassy, but was known in certain circles to provide special documentation for the right price. They had crossed each other's paths over the years and had come to an understanding of sorts.

"Of course, John. Please join me," Andrew told him, indicating the opposite seat. After both men were seated, a waitress came over to take their drink orders. When she left, Andrew studied John across the table. "I've brought what you asked for. I was going to inquire why you needed them, but I can see now that you won't tell me."

With that, Andrew slid an 8 1/2 by 11-inch manila folder over the surface of the table to John. The waitress returned with their drinks and set them down. When she was gone, John opened the folder to check the contents. Andrew lit a cigarette and took a sip of his drink, watching John in silence. Apparently satisfied, John opened his briefcase and set the folder inside. He then removed an envelope containing fifteen-hundred dollars in large American denominations and handed it to Andrew, who thumbed through the bills with practiced ease. Equally satisfied with his end of the exchange, he slid the envelope into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and held out his hand again.

"As always, it's a pleasure doing business with you," Andrew told him as they shook hands.

"And you, Andrew," John responded, snapping his briefcase shut. He left eighty RMB next to his untouched drink, rose from the booth, and exited to his waiting taxi.

While there were no areas of Beijing that were considered worse than others crime wise, there were places off the beaten track where tourists didn't frequent. The Chenxie District was one of these places. It was known among natives as somewhere to buy drugs, weapons, or just about any other illegal or illicit item. Basically the Black Market of Beijing.

John found a reputable gun dealer he was familiar with and purchased some firearms. Two Beretta M92's, which he placed in a double shoulder holster under his suit jacket, two Glock 17's, a Vektor CP1, and an H&K Mark 23. Just for added protection, he also bought an H&K PDW, a Mac10 submachine gun, and enough ammunition to kill half of Beijing, if necessary. All except the Berettas were put into a padded duffel. John paid the man five- thousand in US dollars, slung the duffel's strap over his shoulder, picked up his briefcase, and hailed a taxi.



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Disclaimer: While most of the places I've mentioned in this story are real, there is no Chenxie District. I made it up as well as what goes on there. It's simply a CPD (convenient plot device).