Chapter 18
Meg turned at the touch on her arm, meeting the empathetic eyes of Lau Ruong-Jie. She didn't know how long she'd stood there, transfixed, hoping to catch just one more glimpse of John among the throng.
Meg wiped away tears that she hadn't been aware she'd shed, and gave John's friend a small apologetic smile.
"It would honor me to see you home," Ruong-Jie said quietly, his voice soothing.
"I'm going back to my apartment, not John's place," Meg stated, not sure why she volunteered the information, "I have my things in the car."
"Wherever you would go, I will accompany you. Partly out of pleasure for your company, Miss Coburn, but also because John would have my head if I did not." Ruong put a dry twist to the last few words, his expression one of mock sufferance.
Meg laughed at the sly admission, the first genuine amusement she'd felt all day.
"He's overly protective," Meg smiled, casting her glance down toward the floor, ashamed that she was tearing up again.
"Of course. He loves you," Ruong replied, the statement one of simple fact. "Jian does not love lightly."
Meg looked up once more, her tear ducts fully under control, "I know. And please, I'm Meg.
No more Miss Coburn. I'd be grateful for your company, Lau Ruong-Jie. You have a car?"
"No, I do not own one, even in this city, part of my vows. I rely on public transportation."
"Then maybe it should be me taking you home?" Meg countered.
It was Ruong-Jie's turn to laugh. "No need. And itÕs Ruong, please."
Meg smiled, nodded then turned and walked down the concourse toward the ticketing area and exit, Ruong Jie keeping pace with her.
She saw Zedkov walking toward her, making his way to the departure gate areas, his manner casual. He did not make eye contact with her until they were nearly even with each other, at which time he flashed her a covert thumbs up. It was a prearranged signal between them, that Zeedo had his Seattle bound detective on John's flight and had been successful in arranging seating near the Lee family. Meg nodded imperceptibly.
She hoped that her companion had not seen the exchange. She cast a glance in his direction. He seemed oblivious. She dared to breathe a little easier.
"So Ruong, what can you tell me about Li Jian-Hui?"
Ruong-Jie gave a broad smile, "How long do you have?"
The jet climbed to cruising altitude, and the seat belt light turned off. Liu Shen turned from watching her mother, who sat in the window seat position of their row watching Los Angeles retreat below, to look at her brother.
Parting with Meg had been difficult for him, she knew. He sat stiff and silent in the aisle seat, his eyes closed as though in deep concentration. There was strain in his features that was not readily apparent to a stranger, but which leapt out at Liu Shen now. He seemed to be in physical pain.
Liu Shen touched his left arm. "Does your shoulder pain you, brother?" she asked softly in Cantonese.
He opened his eyes and regarded her silently for a moment. He shook his head, and laid his right hand, still moving stiffly, over his heart. He said nothing verbally, put patted his chest slowly, his eyes speaking volumes of anguish.
Liu Shen nodded, patted his left hand solicitously, then took it in her own. He closed his eyes again, laying his head back against the headrest of his seat.
Li Jian-Hui had found his heart again, and had been forced to leave her behind.
Meg walked slowly through her apartment. Lau Ruong-Jie had just left after helping her transfer her accumulated belongings from her car up to her apartment.
She knew that John had left instruction with his friend to watch over her and protect her, and half imagined him camped out in one of the empty office/ apartments on another floor of her building. No matter, she had to hope that her street sense would enable her to shake any tail that he might attempt. If not, she might have to ask Zedkov to run interference, when the time came.
Everywhere she looked there were reminders of John. The clothing he'd worn on the plane from China was still draped across one of her chairs, her intention to have the suit dry cleaned forgotten. Bandage material still sat on the bedside table, the bed itself in disarray from their stolen hours of lovemaking only three days ago.
The void of his leaving was huge, Meg felt as though she were on the lip of a great chasm, gravity pulling her inexorably toward its edge, so great was her feeling of grief and emptiness.
She laid down on her bed, fully clothed and curled into a fetal ball, pulling the bedclothes close around her. Tears that she'd held in for hours poured out of her as she gave vent to her sense of loss.
She allowed herself the rest of the day to mourn. The next morning, she hit the ground running.
The man looked at his reflection in the rear view mirror, frowning over the scars he saw on his face. He'd been proud of his good looks, loved the effect he'd had on women. All that was gone now. If women looked at him at all, it was with a sense of pity at best, at worst, revulsion.
They said it had been a miracle he had lived at all, riddled with bullets as he'd been. Any number should have been fatal. His life had been despaired of for many weeks, he'd endured countless surgeries. He'd spent most of the past six months hospitalized under armed guard, cursing the gwailo police who'd flooded Chinatown the night Wei had died.
They had pulled him from Wei's car, detected the smallest signs of life and had him airlifted to the nearest trauma center. The marvels of modern medicine which could literally bring a dead man back to life, or something like it.
He cursed the police and doctors almost as much as he cursed the man who had reduced him to such a pitiable state: John Lee.
Only a few weeks ago he had been scheduled to complete his recovery in a secure rehabilitation center, until deemed well enough to stand trial. He'd been stronger than even his doctor had known, and had managed, with the aid of some of his surviving compatriots, to escape.
The remnants of Wei's organization were few and disoriented by the sweeping destruction of the gang. He'd gathered a few of the old hands together, assumed authority over them by right of his position in Wei's inner circle. They'd escaped Los Angeles, disappearing into the underground of San Francisco's Chinatown.
There they had plotted and planned, and he'd grown stronger and fitter. He'd never be the man he had once been. But he was well enough for what he had to do.
Thinking to spare him the effort and risk and to prove their acceptance of him as their leader, two of his closest comrades had hunted down John Lee in southern China and attempted save him the trouble of killing the renegade.
It was the will of the gods that they ended up dead, leaving John Lee alive to face a more personal retribution.
The scarred man pulled the car onto the freeway, leaving San Francisco behind. Lee was in Seattle, he could afford to take his time returning to Los Angeles. He might do some sightseeing along the way, buy a few souvenirs.
The rumors he'd started would be spreading nicely by now, passed from tongue to tongue until they took on the ring of the truth. They would serve to distract attention away from him and the true plan. Relations back in China had even spread them there. His diversionary tactic taking on a life of its own.
His old snitch Loco was incredibly useful at times. He wondered if the youth would be interested in a position in the gang he'd form once he'd retrieved as much of Wei's money
as he could, after he'd killed John Lee.
Mr. Wei had been a wise teacher. His instruction in the finer points of wreaking revenge would be put to good use. John Lee would die all right, begging to be put out of his misery after watching his woman die before his eyes.
He looked forward to seeing Meg Coburn again. His months of physical therapy hadn't done a damn thing to ease the discomfort of the damage she'd inflicted on his knee at Eddie's car wash.
He still owed her for that one.
Meg fixed Loco with a steely stare. They stood in the middle of the arcade he still ran, redecorated to hide the aftereffects of the gun battle that had taken place there six months ago. Loco was her last stop in a long couple of days of touching bases with her street contacts.
She'd saved the most dangerous for last.
"Ever find your ride, Loc?" She asked, smiling a smile she hoped was not too feral.
The young hispanic looked at her with a mixture of salacious interest and wariness.
"Oh yeah, Meg. Right where you and your friend left it for me. Two blocks from a police station, wadn't it? And light some serious firepower."
"Used it all, Loc. I'm sure you read about it in the papers."
"So, your friend waitin' for you outside? Heard he was back." Loco craned his neck, looking around Meg as though expecting to see John Lee appear somewhere behind her.
"I'm his agent now. I'm looking after his financial matters while he's out of town for a few days."
Loco raised an eyebrow at her. "And this would involve me, how?"
"It doesn't. I just wanted you to know that there will be some new action in town from now on. Lots of money to go around. New boss. Remember who took Wei down."
"How do I know you aren't bullshitting me, Meg? And you were always a lightweight. Why should I believe anything coming out of your beautiful mouth?"
Meg fixed him with her best imperious stare. "You don't need to believe, Loco, just sit back and watch. And keep out of our way. My man and I never forget a rat."
Loco leered at her, "I'm shakin', Meg, I'm shakin'."
"Suit yourself. Might want to come out and see my ride, though."
Meg turned and stalked from the arcade out into the late afternoon sun. She paused for dramatic effect before climbing into the back seat of the sleek black limousine.
Loco was at the entrance of the arcade as she'd hoped, watching her carefully. She flashed him a brilliant smile through the open window of the limo, then activated the electronic control that raised the tinted glass.
Zedkov peered at her from underneath his chauffeur's cap. "How'd it go?"
Meg pulled the jacket of her designer suit down around her hips and leaned back in the seat.
"Hard to say, Zeedo. Can't ever be sure which side of the street that bastard is working. He's at least sitting up and taking notice."
"I'm still not sure I like this Meg. I shouldn't be involving a civilian in an operation like this."
"You need me, Zeedo. Admit it. And it never stopped you before. I was a civilian the last time too. Now, shall we get going before Loc has time to think too much? It's a foreign activity for him, to be sure"
Zedkov shook his head ruefully, and started the car. "Yes, ma'am!"
Their masquerade involved her returning to the loft, the upscale address giving credence to the
rumor of new-old money in town. Zedkov saw her safely in the private elevator, then left, to return the limousine to the police impound lot via a circuitous, prearranged route.
She had to trust that the police tail which had shadowed them all day would detect any interested parties following and that their sting would be secure. They were the professionals and while trust came hard to her, she had no choice. Ideally, if the rumor mill and window dressing did its job, they might have results before John was due to come back from Seattle.
Her intention was not to stay here for long. The cavernous loft seemed too empty with John and his family gone. She'd lay low until after dark and make her way back to her apartment then.
She entered the loft, activating the lights, moving into the common area.
Too empty. Too lonely. It would be difficult to stay here for the remaining hours left until sunset.
Meg pulled the cell phone from her suit pocket as she lowered her five foot eleven frame onto the black leather couch. She gazed at it for a moment, her finger twitching over the program button.
She and John had spoken several times since his arrival in Seattle. She knew that their flight had been uneventful, and that Lee Ma's reunion with her family had been everything that John had hoped it would be. Advance scouting by the relatives had secured at least two highly
likely prospects for their permanent home, near her brother and his extended family in Bellevue, across Lake Washington from Seattle proper.
He would be back as soon as the final decision was made, financial arrangements taken care of and papers signed. Inside a week he had hoped.
She wanted to hear his voice, went through the ritual of taking the phone out several times a day, tempted to call just to hear him. But she limited herself to one call a day, a test of her self control. Leave him to do what he had to and he'd be back that much sooner.
Which put immediacy to her plan with Zedkov. A double edged sword. Police intelligence had it that the mysterious "Dragon" would be arriving in Los Angeles soon, perhaps as early as tomorrow. She had to hope that her actions of the last two days would bear some fruit, gain some attention.
She put the cell phone away, patting it into her pocket again.
Later, once she was in her apartment, she would call and indulge herself in speaking to the man she loved more than life itself. Until then she would bide her time quietly in the loft so filled with life and happiness a few days ago.
The Grand Guignol began in earnest tomorrow.
Ruong Jie shadowed Meg as she slipped out of the loft after dark, moving furtively once she'd cleared the parking structure. He had not been entirely truthful to her about his mode of transportation. It was true he did not personally own a car, but he had one at his disposal in this far flung city.
He had only known that the car that left the building was driven by Meg because of the access Jian had given him to the structure that contained his loft. Her own car had never moved from its berth in the garage down the street from her Olive building apartment.
He had followed her these last days, puzzling at the strange activity she'd undertaken, unsure whether or not to report it to his old comrade.
There had been, at the first, the mysterious exchange between Meg Coburn and the unknown man at the airport. She'd been circumspect and nonchalant, but Ruong had noticed his flashed thumbs up and her covert acknowledgment.
She taken a cab and gone shopping early on the morning after the Lee family had left for Seattle, emerged from the shop dressed to the nines and met by a limousine which had proceeded to take her on a tour of several less than savory areas.
She had done nothing but talk to several characters. It could be that she was reestablishing contact with some of her document forging connections, trying to stir up business after the forced break in pursuing her livelihood that the arrival of John and his family had presented. She had repeated the activity today.
The window dressing was the biggest puzzle. Why the sudden show of monied status?
Lau Ruong Jie was a savvy man, but was still growing used to the undercurrents of the city he had adopted as his own when he had come to take Alan Chin's place at the Temple. Perhaps in the trade she had chosen for herself, one needed to look as though they did not need money in order to earn more of it. American culture was still unfolding itself to his understanding.
Jian had been convinced that Meg knew little or nothing of the threat looming over him. That she had suspicions, they were both fairly assured, but she had done nothing to indicate concrete knowledge. She certainly was not following John's advice about staying close to her apartment until he returned. Jian had not expected her to.
Strong willed, he had called her. It was true. The woman his old friend had fallen in love with was a force to be reckoned with. They would be good together. Ruong did not consider for a moment that whatever Meg's behavior signified, that it was anything intended as harmful to Li Jian-Hui or his family. Jian's trust, never easily given to anyone, was absolute where Meg was concerned and he saw nothing to contradict his friend's belief.
Meg almost lost Ruong Jie at a light, whether by accident or design, he could not be sure.
He followed her back to the Olive building, watched her slip into the structure from L.A.'s early glory days. He took up his post, waiting until such time as he had arranged to check in with Jian via the cell phone he carried in his pocket.
Ruong-Jie was still not sure what to report. If anything. Jian's primary concern was that she remained unmolested during his absence, and thus far she had been. He had not detected any sign of the tail that shadowed John being transferred to Meg. Jian had not asked him to spy on her and report her behavior. He cared for her safety alone.
Ruong settled down, and pondered his day, wishing he was more familiar with this new home, a vast sprawling city that was growing more mysterious to him every passing day.
end of Chapter 18.
Meg turned at the touch on her arm, meeting the empathetic eyes of Lau Ruong-Jie. She didn't know how long she'd stood there, transfixed, hoping to catch just one more glimpse of John among the throng.
Meg wiped away tears that she hadn't been aware she'd shed, and gave John's friend a small apologetic smile.
"It would honor me to see you home," Ruong-Jie said quietly, his voice soothing.
"I'm going back to my apartment, not John's place," Meg stated, not sure why she volunteered the information, "I have my things in the car."
"Wherever you would go, I will accompany you. Partly out of pleasure for your company, Miss Coburn, but also because John would have my head if I did not." Ruong put a dry twist to the last few words, his expression one of mock sufferance.
Meg laughed at the sly admission, the first genuine amusement she'd felt all day.
"He's overly protective," Meg smiled, casting her glance down toward the floor, ashamed that she was tearing up again.
"Of course. He loves you," Ruong replied, the statement one of simple fact. "Jian does not love lightly."
Meg looked up once more, her tear ducts fully under control, "I know. And please, I'm Meg.
No more Miss Coburn. I'd be grateful for your company, Lau Ruong-Jie. You have a car?"
"No, I do not own one, even in this city, part of my vows. I rely on public transportation."
"Then maybe it should be me taking you home?" Meg countered.
It was Ruong-Jie's turn to laugh. "No need. And itÕs Ruong, please."
Meg smiled, nodded then turned and walked down the concourse toward the ticketing area and exit, Ruong Jie keeping pace with her.
She saw Zedkov walking toward her, making his way to the departure gate areas, his manner casual. He did not make eye contact with her until they were nearly even with each other, at which time he flashed her a covert thumbs up. It was a prearranged signal between them, that Zeedo had his Seattle bound detective on John's flight and had been successful in arranging seating near the Lee family. Meg nodded imperceptibly.
She hoped that her companion had not seen the exchange. She cast a glance in his direction. He seemed oblivious. She dared to breathe a little easier.
"So Ruong, what can you tell me about Li Jian-Hui?"
Ruong-Jie gave a broad smile, "How long do you have?"
The jet climbed to cruising altitude, and the seat belt light turned off. Liu Shen turned from watching her mother, who sat in the window seat position of their row watching Los Angeles retreat below, to look at her brother.
Parting with Meg had been difficult for him, she knew. He sat stiff and silent in the aisle seat, his eyes closed as though in deep concentration. There was strain in his features that was not readily apparent to a stranger, but which leapt out at Liu Shen now. He seemed to be in physical pain.
Liu Shen touched his left arm. "Does your shoulder pain you, brother?" she asked softly in Cantonese.
He opened his eyes and regarded her silently for a moment. He shook his head, and laid his right hand, still moving stiffly, over his heart. He said nothing verbally, put patted his chest slowly, his eyes speaking volumes of anguish.
Liu Shen nodded, patted his left hand solicitously, then took it in her own. He closed his eyes again, laying his head back against the headrest of his seat.
Li Jian-Hui had found his heart again, and had been forced to leave her behind.
Meg walked slowly through her apartment. Lau Ruong-Jie had just left after helping her transfer her accumulated belongings from her car up to her apartment.
She knew that John had left instruction with his friend to watch over her and protect her, and half imagined him camped out in one of the empty office/ apartments on another floor of her building. No matter, she had to hope that her street sense would enable her to shake any tail that he might attempt. If not, she might have to ask Zedkov to run interference, when the time came.
Everywhere she looked there were reminders of John. The clothing he'd worn on the plane from China was still draped across one of her chairs, her intention to have the suit dry cleaned forgotten. Bandage material still sat on the bedside table, the bed itself in disarray from their stolen hours of lovemaking only three days ago.
The void of his leaving was huge, Meg felt as though she were on the lip of a great chasm, gravity pulling her inexorably toward its edge, so great was her feeling of grief and emptiness.
She laid down on her bed, fully clothed and curled into a fetal ball, pulling the bedclothes close around her. Tears that she'd held in for hours poured out of her as she gave vent to her sense of loss.
She allowed herself the rest of the day to mourn. The next morning, she hit the ground running.
The man looked at his reflection in the rear view mirror, frowning over the scars he saw on his face. He'd been proud of his good looks, loved the effect he'd had on women. All that was gone now. If women looked at him at all, it was with a sense of pity at best, at worst, revulsion.
They said it had been a miracle he had lived at all, riddled with bullets as he'd been. Any number should have been fatal. His life had been despaired of for many weeks, he'd endured countless surgeries. He'd spent most of the past six months hospitalized under armed guard, cursing the gwailo police who'd flooded Chinatown the night Wei had died.
They had pulled him from Wei's car, detected the smallest signs of life and had him airlifted to the nearest trauma center. The marvels of modern medicine which could literally bring a dead man back to life, or something like it.
He cursed the police and doctors almost as much as he cursed the man who had reduced him to such a pitiable state: John Lee.
Only a few weeks ago he had been scheduled to complete his recovery in a secure rehabilitation center, until deemed well enough to stand trial. He'd been stronger than even his doctor had known, and had managed, with the aid of some of his surviving compatriots, to escape.
The remnants of Wei's organization were few and disoriented by the sweeping destruction of the gang. He'd gathered a few of the old hands together, assumed authority over them by right of his position in Wei's inner circle. They'd escaped Los Angeles, disappearing into the underground of San Francisco's Chinatown.
There they had plotted and planned, and he'd grown stronger and fitter. He'd never be the man he had once been. But he was well enough for what he had to do.
Thinking to spare him the effort and risk and to prove their acceptance of him as their leader, two of his closest comrades had hunted down John Lee in southern China and attempted save him the trouble of killing the renegade.
It was the will of the gods that they ended up dead, leaving John Lee alive to face a more personal retribution.
The scarred man pulled the car onto the freeway, leaving San Francisco behind. Lee was in Seattle, he could afford to take his time returning to Los Angeles. He might do some sightseeing along the way, buy a few souvenirs.
The rumors he'd started would be spreading nicely by now, passed from tongue to tongue until they took on the ring of the truth. They would serve to distract attention away from him and the true plan. Relations back in China had even spread them there. His diversionary tactic taking on a life of its own.
His old snitch Loco was incredibly useful at times. He wondered if the youth would be interested in a position in the gang he'd form once he'd retrieved as much of Wei's money
as he could, after he'd killed John Lee.
Mr. Wei had been a wise teacher. His instruction in the finer points of wreaking revenge would be put to good use. John Lee would die all right, begging to be put out of his misery after watching his woman die before his eyes.
He looked forward to seeing Meg Coburn again. His months of physical therapy hadn't done a damn thing to ease the discomfort of the damage she'd inflicted on his knee at Eddie's car wash.
He still owed her for that one.
Meg fixed Loco with a steely stare. They stood in the middle of the arcade he still ran, redecorated to hide the aftereffects of the gun battle that had taken place there six months ago. Loco was her last stop in a long couple of days of touching bases with her street contacts.
She'd saved the most dangerous for last.
"Ever find your ride, Loc?" She asked, smiling a smile she hoped was not too feral.
The young hispanic looked at her with a mixture of salacious interest and wariness.
"Oh yeah, Meg. Right where you and your friend left it for me. Two blocks from a police station, wadn't it? And light some serious firepower."
"Used it all, Loc. I'm sure you read about it in the papers."
"So, your friend waitin' for you outside? Heard he was back." Loco craned his neck, looking around Meg as though expecting to see John Lee appear somewhere behind her.
"I'm his agent now. I'm looking after his financial matters while he's out of town for a few days."
Loco raised an eyebrow at her. "And this would involve me, how?"
"It doesn't. I just wanted you to know that there will be some new action in town from now on. Lots of money to go around. New boss. Remember who took Wei down."
"How do I know you aren't bullshitting me, Meg? And you were always a lightweight. Why should I believe anything coming out of your beautiful mouth?"
Meg fixed him with her best imperious stare. "You don't need to believe, Loco, just sit back and watch. And keep out of our way. My man and I never forget a rat."
Loco leered at her, "I'm shakin', Meg, I'm shakin'."
"Suit yourself. Might want to come out and see my ride, though."
Meg turned and stalked from the arcade out into the late afternoon sun. She paused for dramatic effect before climbing into the back seat of the sleek black limousine.
Loco was at the entrance of the arcade as she'd hoped, watching her carefully. She flashed him a brilliant smile through the open window of the limo, then activated the electronic control that raised the tinted glass.
Zedkov peered at her from underneath his chauffeur's cap. "How'd it go?"
Meg pulled the jacket of her designer suit down around her hips and leaned back in the seat.
"Hard to say, Zeedo. Can't ever be sure which side of the street that bastard is working. He's at least sitting up and taking notice."
"I'm still not sure I like this Meg. I shouldn't be involving a civilian in an operation like this."
"You need me, Zeedo. Admit it. And it never stopped you before. I was a civilian the last time too. Now, shall we get going before Loc has time to think too much? It's a foreign activity for him, to be sure"
Zedkov shook his head ruefully, and started the car. "Yes, ma'am!"
Their masquerade involved her returning to the loft, the upscale address giving credence to the
rumor of new-old money in town. Zedkov saw her safely in the private elevator, then left, to return the limousine to the police impound lot via a circuitous, prearranged route.
She had to trust that the police tail which had shadowed them all day would detect any interested parties following and that their sting would be secure. They were the professionals and while trust came hard to her, she had no choice. Ideally, if the rumor mill and window dressing did its job, they might have results before John was due to come back from Seattle.
Her intention was not to stay here for long. The cavernous loft seemed too empty with John and his family gone. She'd lay low until after dark and make her way back to her apartment then.
She entered the loft, activating the lights, moving into the common area.
Too empty. Too lonely. It would be difficult to stay here for the remaining hours left until sunset.
Meg pulled the cell phone from her suit pocket as she lowered her five foot eleven frame onto the black leather couch. She gazed at it for a moment, her finger twitching over the program button.
She and John had spoken several times since his arrival in Seattle. She knew that their flight had been uneventful, and that Lee Ma's reunion with her family had been everything that John had hoped it would be. Advance scouting by the relatives had secured at least two highly
likely prospects for their permanent home, near her brother and his extended family in Bellevue, across Lake Washington from Seattle proper.
He would be back as soon as the final decision was made, financial arrangements taken care of and papers signed. Inside a week he had hoped.
She wanted to hear his voice, went through the ritual of taking the phone out several times a day, tempted to call just to hear him. But she limited herself to one call a day, a test of her self control. Leave him to do what he had to and he'd be back that much sooner.
Which put immediacy to her plan with Zedkov. A double edged sword. Police intelligence had it that the mysterious "Dragon" would be arriving in Los Angeles soon, perhaps as early as tomorrow. She had to hope that her actions of the last two days would bear some fruit, gain some attention.
She put the cell phone away, patting it into her pocket again.
Later, once she was in her apartment, she would call and indulge herself in speaking to the man she loved more than life itself. Until then she would bide her time quietly in the loft so filled with life and happiness a few days ago.
The Grand Guignol began in earnest tomorrow.
Ruong Jie shadowed Meg as she slipped out of the loft after dark, moving furtively once she'd cleared the parking structure. He had not been entirely truthful to her about his mode of transportation. It was true he did not personally own a car, but he had one at his disposal in this far flung city.
He had only known that the car that left the building was driven by Meg because of the access Jian had given him to the structure that contained his loft. Her own car had never moved from its berth in the garage down the street from her Olive building apartment.
He had followed her these last days, puzzling at the strange activity she'd undertaken, unsure whether or not to report it to his old comrade.
There had been, at the first, the mysterious exchange between Meg Coburn and the unknown man at the airport. She'd been circumspect and nonchalant, but Ruong had noticed his flashed thumbs up and her covert acknowledgment.
She taken a cab and gone shopping early on the morning after the Lee family had left for Seattle, emerged from the shop dressed to the nines and met by a limousine which had proceeded to take her on a tour of several less than savory areas.
She had done nothing but talk to several characters. It could be that she was reestablishing contact with some of her document forging connections, trying to stir up business after the forced break in pursuing her livelihood that the arrival of John and his family had presented. She had repeated the activity today.
The window dressing was the biggest puzzle. Why the sudden show of monied status?
Lau Ruong Jie was a savvy man, but was still growing used to the undercurrents of the city he had adopted as his own when he had come to take Alan Chin's place at the Temple. Perhaps in the trade she had chosen for herself, one needed to look as though they did not need money in order to earn more of it. American culture was still unfolding itself to his understanding.
Jian had been convinced that Meg knew little or nothing of the threat looming over him. That she had suspicions, they were both fairly assured, but she had done nothing to indicate concrete knowledge. She certainly was not following John's advice about staying close to her apartment until he returned. Jian had not expected her to.
Strong willed, he had called her. It was true. The woman his old friend had fallen in love with was a force to be reckoned with. They would be good together. Ruong did not consider for a moment that whatever Meg's behavior signified, that it was anything intended as harmful to Li Jian-Hui or his family. Jian's trust, never easily given to anyone, was absolute where Meg was concerned and he saw nothing to contradict his friend's belief.
Meg almost lost Ruong Jie at a light, whether by accident or design, he could not be sure.
He followed her back to the Olive building, watched her slip into the structure from L.A.'s early glory days. He took up his post, waiting until such time as he had arranged to check in with Jian via the cell phone he carried in his pocket.
Ruong-Jie was still not sure what to report. If anything. Jian's primary concern was that she remained unmolested during his absence, and thus far she had been. He had not detected any sign of the tail that shadowed John being transferred to Meg. Jian had not asked him to spy on her and report her behavior. He cared for her safety alone.
Ruong settled down, and pondered his day, wishing he was more familiar with this new home, a vast sprawling city that was growing more mysterious to him every passing day.
end of Chapter 18.