Chapter 20
Lau Ruong-Jie sat in the back seat of the police cruiser, door open, elbows
propped on his knees. A bandage was visible on his forehead, his shaved
head softly reflecting the dome light of the cruiser.
"This yours?" a voice interrupted his misery. Ruong-Jie looked up to see
his cellphone being held out to him by the man who was preparing to tow
what was left of his car away. "It was ringin' a minute ago, only reason I
found it. Musta been knocked under the seat by the impact."
Ruong thanked the man profusely in his best English, and hit the key that
allowed him to see missed calls.
There were several. All from Jian. Ruong moaned.
He'd come back to consciousness still in the seat of the now wrecked car,
slumped over the steering wheel. Blood was running into his left eye from
a cut above it.
People were already surrounding the site of the wreck, a helpful few moving
to check on him to make sure he was still alive, several fishing out cell phones
and calling for emergency response.
The only thing he could think of as he came awake was that Meg was
unprotected, he had failed in his promise to Li Jian-Hui to keep her always
within his sight.
His first impulse was to abandon his car and race after her. Common sense
told him that wasn't a workable plan almost as quickly as the thought formed.
Further, he soon found himself restrained by the good samaritans who came
to his aid, concerned for any injuries he might have.
He knew he was basically all right. Nothing broken. He probably had a
concussion, but his field experience told him told him it was not major,
his senses already clearing.
Sirens had soon sounded in the distance and moved closer. The crowd of
aid-givers had given way to paramedics, and police.
He had allowed himself to be extricated from the car, had suffered the
ministrations of the paramedic team, waving off the advice to go to
the hospital.
He'd been sitting, waiting for over two hours as the accident investigation
had progressed, statements taken not only from Lau, but also from
witnesses to the impact and to the abrupt departure of the car that had
hit him. The witnesses reported that the car had hardly seemed damaged,
and that the license plate light had been out, making it difficult to see the
numbers that would have identified the car.
Ruong-Jie had grown steadily more miserable, more worried for Meg and upset
that he now found himself stranded, without transportation. He'd missed the cell
phone earlier, but had not been allowed back into the car to look for it.
Ruong now tried dialing Jian's number. It was busy.
By now John Lee was arriving in Los Angeles from Seattle. No doubt he was
trying to contact Meg.
Ruong Jie offered up prayers that she was safely at home, and that Jian was
talking to her even now. But some part of him knew that this accident had
been anything but that, and Meg was in terrible danger.
His every instinct told him to move, to leave this scene, try to find her.
But the policeman who stood a few feet away had already discouraged that idea.
Stan Zedkov strode toward the accident scene. The investigation was being
concluded, the victim's car towed away just as he and Hunt had arrived. His
partner had peeled away moments ago to talk to the on-scene officer while Zeedo
went to search out the victim.
Seeing the hunched figure in the back seat of the police cruiser Stan shifted
direction, a few steps bringing him to stand before the man, who looked up
and into his eyes.
Zedkov and Lau Ruong-Jie stared at each other in surprise, each recognizing the
other from their near encounter at the airport days before.
For a moment neither spoke, then almost in unison they spoke the name of
the one person they both had in common.
"Meg Coburn!"
The desperate worry that had taken hold of John since leaving Seattle assaulted
him afresh as he approached Meg's apartment.
He'd rented the first car available at the first agency he'd encountered at the
airport. He had driven directly to Meg's apartment building with as much speed
as he could manage without drawing the attention of the police.
He'd tried Lau Ruong Jie on the cellphone several more times in transit,
fruitlessly. He hoped that Ruong was all right and was with Meg somewhere,
but his instincts told him that was not the case. He tried not to worry too deeply
for Lau, reserving most of his energy for fear for Meg.
John had checked her car in the parking garage, finding it in its accustomed
space, its hood cold to the touch. It had not been moved in several hours.
Logic dictated that she must be in her apartment. But logic sometimes had little
to do with reality in a chaotic universe.
He could not control his fear.
John laid his hand on the door to Meg's apartment. Something was horribly wrong,
he sensed it, knew it with every fiber of his being.
He worked his key in the lock--the key he'd made copies of when he and Liu
Shen had come to her place to pack clothes for Meg's stay at the loft-- and
opened the door.
To all appearances, the apartment was empty. Though it was now late
evening, no lights were on, the dwelling eerie in its silence. He moved
through the office area, activating lights, cold dread growing in his belly.
The bedroom was empty as well, the bed made, undisturbed.
He moved further into the apartment, checking out each room in its
shotgun arrangement, until finally he came back around to the outer
office. He stood in the middle of it, lost, forlorn, a sick feeling in the
pit of his stomach.
His cell phone rang, startling him. He pulled it out of his pocket and
moved to answer it.
Meg's voice was husky, her tone rushed, as though she must hurry to get
her thought out.
"John, whatever you do, don't---!"
He heard a cry of pain--Meg's-- and another voice replaced hers on
the connection. Every nerve and muscle in his body responded to the
rushed words and cut off cry, pain jolting his body as though he'd been
struck by a semi.
"Sorry, Meg can't talk any more right now, John. She wants me
to give you her love, though," the male voice taunted.
"Let me speak to her again!" John spat out the words even as
his mind tried to place the man's familiar voice in memory.
"You're not in any position to make demands. Neither is she.
Do you remember me, John Lee?"
The mental image that coalesced in John's consciousness was
the last image he had of the owner of that voice. He'd stood on the
hood of Terence Wei's car, aiming at the smirking face behind the wheel
of his former benefactor's limousine. The same face who'd simpered
sadistically after his boot had connected with Meg's knee at Eddie's Car Wash.
"I remember you. What do you want?" John hissed out his reply.
"You, John Lee. And Wei's money. In MacArthur Park, by the geyser.
I think you'll find us. Two hours."
"I will be there." John replied. "Let me speak to Meg again." He was
desperate to know she was all right, but had kept his voice from revealing
that fact too plainly.
"You'll see her soon enough. Long enough to say goodbye at least."
The connection died, leaving John listening to dead air.
The rage that filled him in that moment, rivaled any emotion he'd felt
in his life, and radiated out from the core of his being in all directions.
His vision was swimming in red, his blood pounded in his ears. His
hands shook with the rush of adrenaline coursing through his body.
He knew where Meg hid her guns, and went now to retrieve them. He'd
have to make a brief stop at the loft as well, to gather his own weapons
and ammunition.
He crossed the apartment, stalking toward the front door, pausing when
he thought he heard a sound from without.
Moving soundlessly, he pulled back into the shadows behind the door.
Muffled voices reached his ears. He chambered a round in the gun he
held in his hand and waited, the weapon drawn and ready.
There was fumbling with the door lock, then the door swung open.
John aimed the weapon at the head of the intruder, his finger on the trigger.
The intruder by instinct, spun, his own gun drawn and aimed at John.
An overhead light came on concurrent with the movement.
He came face to face, eye to eye, muzzle to muzzle with Detective Stan Zedkov.
Neither man moved for a deathless moment. Then Lau Ruong-Jie's voice came
to him in Cantonese:
"Jian! We have come to help!"
John's eyes flicked to take in the sight of Ruong, with his head bandaged
and his arms outstretched.
John brought his gun down, drawing a ragged breath. His body shaking
from the combination of adrenaline and tension.
"We should stop meeting like this, old friend," Zeedo was saying as
he relaxed his own defensive stance. He transferred his weapon to his
other hand and stretched his right out to John. "Maybe we should start
over. We've never been properly introduced. I'm Stan Zedkov, LAPD.
You saved my son's life."
John nodded, his lips twitching in a grim approximation of a smile.
"John Lee." He reached out and clasped the policeman's hand, wondering
that he was doing it at all.
Ruong expelled a breath he'd obviously been holding. "Jian, Meg?"
"Kidnapped," John spoke in Cantonese, eyeing Zeedo suspiciously.
"He calls himself Dragon now. I knew him by another name. He has her.
He wants me. And Wei's money. He called me on her cell phone."
"Hey guys, I'm on your side. Could we have that again in English?"
Ruong looked at John questioningly, "He has been working with Meg.
To protect you. I saw evidence with my own eyes. You need to trust him."
John sighed, closing his eyes for a fraction of a minute. He then took
a deep breath. He fixed Stan Zedkov with a penetrating stare.
"You have let Meg put herself at risk. Her life may now be forfeit.
Why should I trust you?"
Zedkov's eyes flicked between Ruong and John. "You know Meg, it
wasn't as simple as that. I had her covered and protected, as well as you
did with your friend here. In my case she started doing things I'd specifically
warned her against, using her own initiative. She's a brave girl, but sometimes
a foolhardy one. I should have had her under protective custody. For that
oversight I apologize. Now let's get down to business and see if we can't get
her out of the mess she's gotten herself into."
John listened to Zedkov, his mind flashing images of the woman he loved
more than his own life as the policeman spoke. He, who knew her better
than anyone had underestimated his Meg, just as Zeedo had.He had been wrong
to leave her behind in LA, wrong not to tell her from the beginning, the risks he
was putting her under by virtue of the fact of reentering her life.
The shame of his miscalculation rendered him momentarily deaf and
speechless. Zeedo's statement hung in the air, until Ruong reached out
and touched John on the arm, bringing him out of his distraction.
John nodded.
Lau Ruong-Jie sat in the back seat of the police cruiser, door open, elbows
propped on his knees. A bandage was visible on his forehead, his shaved
head softly reflecting the dome light of the cruiser.
"This yours?" a voice interrupted his misery. Ruong-Jie looked up to see
his cellphone being held out to him by the man who was preparing to tow
what was left of his car away. "It was ringin' a minute ago, only reason I
found it. Musta been knocked under the seat by the impact."
Ruong thanked the man profusely in his best English, and hit the key that
allowed him to see missed calls.
There were several. All from Jian. Ruong moaned.
He'd come back to consciousness still in the seat of the now wrecked car,
slumped over the steering wheel. Blood was running into his left eye from
a cut above it.
People were already surrounding the site of the wreck, a helpful few moving
to check on him to make sure he was still alive, several fishing out cell phones
and calling for emergency response.
The only thing he could think of as he came awake was that Meg was
unprotected, he had failed in his promise to Li Jian-Hui to keep her always
within his sight.
His first impulse was to abandon his car and race after her. Common sense
told him that wasn't a workable plan almost as quickly as the thought formed.
Further, he soon found himself restrained by the good samaritans who came
to his aid, concerned for any injuries he might have.
He knew he was basically all right. Nothing broken. He probably had a
concussion, but his field experience told him told him it was not major,
his senses already clearing.
Sirens had soon sounded in the distance and moved closer. The crowd of
aid-givers had given way to paramedics, and police.
He had allowed himself to be extricated from the car, had suffered the
ministrations of the paramedic team, waving off the advice to go to
the hospital.
He'd been sitting, waiting for over two hours as the accident investigation
had progressed, statements taken not only from Lau, but also from
witnesses to the impact and to the abrupt departure of the car that had
hit him. The witnesses reported that the car had hardly seemed damaged,
and that the license plate light had been out, making it difficult to see the
numbers that would have identified the car.
Ruong-Jie had grown steadily more miserable, more worried for Meg and upset
that he now found himself stranded, without transportation. He'd missed the cell
phone earlier, but had not been allowed back into the car to look for it.
Ruong now tried dialing Jian's number. It was busy.
By now John Lee was arriving in Los Angeles from Seattle. No doubt he was
trying to contact Meg.
Ruong Jie offered up prayers that she was safely at home, and that Jian was
talking to her even now. But some part of him knew that this accident had
been anything but that, and Meg was in terrible danger.
His every instinct told him to move, to leave this scene, try to find her.
But the policeman who stood a few feet away had already discouraged that idea.
Stan Zedkov strode toward the accident scene. The investigation was being
concluded, the victim's car towed away just as he and Hunt had arrived. His
partner had peeled away moments ago to talk to the on-scene officer while Zeedo
went to search out the victim.
Seeing the hunched figure in the back seat of the police cruiser Stan shifted
direction, a few steps bringing him to stand before the man, who looked up
and into his eyes.
Zedkov and Lau Ruong-Jie stared at each other in surprise, each recognizing the
other from their near encounter at the airport days before.
For a moment neither spoke, then almost in unison they spoke the name of
the one person they both had in common.
"Meg Coburn!"
The desperate worry that had taken hold of John since leaving Seattle assaulted
him afresh as he approached Meg's apartment.
He'd rented the first car available at the first agency he'd encountered at the
airport. He had driven directly to Meg's apartment building with as much speed
as he could manage without drawing the attention of the police.
He'd tried Lau Ruong Jie on the cellphone several more times in transit,
fruitlessly. He hoped that Ruong was all right and was with Meg somewhere,
but his instincts told him that was not the case. He tried not to worry too deeply
for Lau, reserving most of his energy for fear for Meg.
John had checked her car in the parking garage, finding it in its accustomed
space, its hood cold to the touch. It had not been moved in several hours.
Logic dictated that she must be in her apartment. But logic sometimes had little
to do with reality in a chaotic universe.
He could not control his fear.
John laid his hand on the door to Meg's apartment. Something was horribly wrong,
he sensed it, knew it with every fiber of his being.
He worked his key in the lock--the key he'd made copies of when he and Liu
Shen had come to her place to pack clothes for Meg's stay at the loft-- and
opened the door.
To all appearances, the apartment was empty. Though it was now late
evening, no lights were on, the dwelling eerie in its silence. He moved
through the office area, activating lights, cold dread growing in his belly.
The bedroom was empty as well, the bed made, undisturbed.
He moved further into the apartment, checking out each room in its
shotgun arrangement, until finally he came back around to the outer
office. He stood in the middle of it, lost, forlorn, a sick feeling in the
pit of his stomach.
His cell phone rang, startling him. He pulled it out of his pocket and
moved to answer it.
Meg's voice was husky, her tone rushed, as though she must hurry to get
her thought out.
"John, whatever you do, don't---!"
He heard a cry of pain--Meg's-- and another voice replaced hers on
the connection. Every nerve and muscle in his body responded to the
rushed words and cut off cry, pain jolting his body as though he'd been
struck by a semi.
"Sorry, Meg can't talk any more right now, John. She wants me
to give you her love, though," the male voice taunted.
"Let me speak to her again!" John spat out the words even as
his mind tried to place the man's familiar voice in memory.
"You're not in any position to make demands. Neither is she.
Do you remember me, John Lee?"
The mental image that coalesced in John's consciousness was
the last image he had of the owner of that voice. He'd stood on the
hood of Terence Wei's car, aiming at the smirking face behind the wheel
of his former benefactor's limousine. The same face who'd simpered
sadistically after his boot had connected with Meg's knee at Eddie's Car Wash.
"I remember you. What do you want?" John hissed out his reply.
"You, John Lee. And Wei's money. In MacArthur Park, by the geyser.
I think you'll find us. Two hours."
"I will be there." John replied. "Let me speak to Meg again." He was
desperate to know she was all right, but had kept his voice from revealing
that fact too plainly.
"You'll see her soon enough. Long enough to say goodbye at least."
The connection died, leaving John listening to dead air.
The rage that filled him in that moment, rivaled any emotion he'd felt
in his life, and radiated out from the core of his being in all directions.
His vision was swimming in red, his blood pounded in his ears. His
hands shook with the rush of adrenaline coursing through his body.
He knew where Meg hid her guns, and went now to retrieve them. He'd
have to make a brief stop at the loft as well, to gather his own weapons
and ammunition.
He crossed the apartment, stalking toward the front door, pausing when
he thought he heard a sound from without.
Moving soundlessly, he pulled back into the shadows behind the door.
Muffled voices reached his ears. He chambered a round in the gun he
held in his hand and waited, the weapon drawn and ready.
There was fumbling with the door lock, then the door swung open.
John aimed the weapon at the head of the intruder, his finger on the trigger.
The intruder by instinct, spun, his own gun drawn and aimed at John.
An overhead light came on concurrent with the movement.
He came face to face, eye to eye, muzzle to muzzle with Detective Stan Zedkov.
Neither man moved for a deathless moment. Then Lau Ruong-Jie's voice came
to him in Cantonese:
"Jian! We have come to help!"
John's eyes flicked to take in the sight of Ruong, with his head bandaged
and his arms outstretched.
John brought his gun down, drawing a ragged breath. His body shaking
from the combination of adrenaline and tension.
"We should stop meeting like this, old friend," Zeedo was saying as
he relaxed his own defensive stance. He transferred his weapon to his
other hand and stretched his right out to John. "Maybe we should start
over. We've never been properly introduced. I'm Stan Zedkov, LAPD.
You saved my son's life."
John nodded, his lips twitching in a grim approximation of a smile.
"John Lee." He reached out and clasped the policeman's hand, wondering
that he was doing it at all.
Ruong expelled a breath he'd obviously been holding. "Jian, Meg?"
"Kidnapped," John spoke in Cantonese, eyeing Zeedo suspiciously.
"He calls himself Dragon now. I knew him by another name. He has her.
He wants me. And Wei's money. He called me on her cell phone."
"Hey guys, I'm on your side. Could we have that again in English?"
Ruong looked at John questioningly, "He has been working with Meg.
To protect you. I saw evidence with my own eyes. You need to trust him."
John sighed, closing his eyes for a fraction of a minute. He then took
a deep breath. He fixed Stan Zedkov with a penetrating stare.
"You have let Meg put herself at risk. Her life may now be forfeit.
Why should I trust you?"
Zedkov's eyes flicked between Ruong and John. "You know Meg, it
wasn't as simple as that. I had her covered and protected, as well as you
did with your friend here. In my case she started doing things I'd specifically
warned her against, using her own initiative. She's a brave girl, but sometimes
a foolhardy one. I should have had her under protective custody. For that
oversight I apologize. Now let's get down to business and see if we can't get
her out of the mess she's gotten herself into."
John listened to Zedkov, his mind flashing images of the woman he loved
more than his own life as the policeman spoke. He, who knew her better
than anyone had underestimated his Meg, just as Zeedo had.He had been wrong
to leave her behind in LA, wrong not to tell her from the beginning, the risks he
was putting her under by virtue of the fact of reentering her life.
The shame of his miscalculation rendered him momentarily deaf and
speechless. Zeedo's statement hung in the air, until Ruong reached out
and touched John on the arm, bringing him out of his distraction.
John nodded.