Chapter 21
Meg moaned and raised herself up from the floor. She'd been momentarily stunned by the savage blow that had knocked her away from the cell phone. Carefully coached to speak only what "Dragon" told her to, she had known the risk of trying to warn John. Her only regret was that she had not gotten a chance to hear his voice before being knocked down.
She could taste blood in her mouth, from a cut to the inside of her cheek at the impact point. She spat trying to rid herself of the coppery taste.
Meg had never known her captor's name, but his face had been ingrained on her memory that day in Eddie's car wash. She still felt the occasional twinge in the kneecap he'd dislocated.
He was much changed from that self satisfied dandy, his face deeply scarred, his body no longer proudly erect, but slightly hunched as though he were in constant pain. The sight of him so altered had brought her a certain grim pleasure. For what he had done and what he now planned, she hoped his misery was exquisite.
Meg's legs still ached from the blow that he'd dealt them with his cane, but he'd inflicted less damage this time than his long ago kick had. He wasn't as strong as he thought he was, she was deeply bruised, but nothing was broken.
Meg had been playing up the injury however, pretending to be more disabled by his blow than she had been. She had to keep her options open.
John was back in LA. She knew that because "Dragon" or Lung-Shin as he'd taken to calling himself, had taunted her with the fact for the last few hours--keeping her periodically updated in his sardonic and sarcastic vocal manner of every move that John was making.
He seemed to know when his enemy left Bellevue for SEATAC airport, knew precisely which flight he'd taken, that it had been nonstop and on-time benefitting from favorable winds. He knew when John landed, even knew that the first place Lee had gone to was her own apartment.
Meg had realized quickly and ruefully that her role playing of the last few days had been wasted energy--utterly fruitless. She may have fooled a few of the unaffiliated bottom feeders, but not those she had intended to bait. They had seen through her the whole time.
How Loco must have laughed at her, after she pulled away from the arcade. He'd been in on Lung's plans from the beginning, .
Lung-Shin wasn't letting her forget any of it. He had made a point of berating her from the moment she'd awakened from the anesthetic dart.
As angry as her situation made her, at her captors and at herself, she saved most of her energy in unrelenting anxiety for John. She'd set out to make herself bait to trap a dragon. Her game was now being turned back on her to lure the man she loved more than life itself.
She kept her anger close and hot. She'd yet find a way to redress the balance, get some of her own back. She hoped in the process, that she'd be able to save John's life.
John Lee had said little since agreeing to a temporary alliance with Zedkov, instead forging ahead with his preparations while the police detective and Ruong-Jie attempted to keep up. Zedkov had been in constant contact with his partner, setting up the police side of things via cell phone, based on the information John had grudgingly given him.
Ruong Jie had studied his old comrade carefully as the duo had made their way back to John's loft. Zedkov made his separate way to avoid being seen with John Lee, as it was becoming obvious that surveillance on Meg had been more thoroughgoing and comprehensive than any of them could have guessed.
Jian was as focused and alert as Ruong could ever remember seeing him, but eerily silent, as though some part of him was very far away. He moved around his loft now, while Zedkov and Lau watched him, gathering weapons and paperwork, representative of Wei's wealth or camouflage, Ruong did not know which.
"You're going to wear a wire." Zedkov was saying as Jian sat down and methodically cleaned a gun he'd removed from his safe, pocketing a supply of ammunition.
John's head inclined, agreeing in silence.
"I don't suppose I can convince you not to wear a gun." Zedkov continued.
Li Jian-Hui looked up at him, his gaze darkly questioning.
"No. My adversary would be more suspicious if I came unarmed. You may arrest me for illegal possession of a firearm afterward." John's reply represented the largest number of words he'd spoken since they'd met him at Meg's apartment.
"Right. Okay, I've got a technician coming over with the wire. We need to discuss what is going to happen. I don't want to see any surprises out there. The only way this is going to work at all is if we all know our parts and stick to them."
John laid his gun down on the table, once again fixing Zedkov with a stare.
"I will do what I must. I will not be hobbled by overstrategizing. I welcome your assistance. I do not welcome your interference. I will cooperate as best I can, but I will not be ordered about."
Zedkov's eyebrows raised, but he did not argue with Jian, the debt he owed this man for his son's life seeming to buy an extra ration of forbearance.
"Then perhaps you will tell me what your plans are. I'll do my best to support them. Up to a point." Zeedo replied levelly.
John Lee, resuming his careful attention to the cleaning of his gun, did just that.
Meg found herself being shoved roughly into the back seat of the car by Lung's two goons.
Prepared for a veritable army surrounding John's enemy, she had never, at any point, seen anyone other than the two thugs who manhandled her now. She wondered at the fact, puzzling that he was not using a show of force and might to further intimidate her.
Could it be, for all his seeming omniscience, that he was not so heavily supported as he would like her and John to believe?
Meg had, by careful listening and observation, discovered that however powerful Lung might seem, here in his chosen setting and element, something rang false. His comrades treated him with deference and respect, but also seemed to regard him with the quiet assistance expected of caregivers for the infirm. She might have been imagining it, but there seemed to be a tinge of tolerance in their general mien, as though they acted less out of blind loyalty than a careful indulgence for the off-center sensibilities of a comrade.
A comrade who, at his core was not altogether stable, whose single-minded goal for revenge was the only thing keeping him focused and motivated. Perhaps the only thing that had kept him alive at all.
It was a dangerous combination, instability and blind hatred. But it presented opportunities as well. The chinks in the Lung armor were fascinating, and it was information she wished she had some way to communicate to John.
As Lung settled in next to her, keeping a gun pointed at her midsection, Meg spoke. She hoped her voice held the right amount of insolence.
"So where the hell are we going now? You've been shuttling me all over town."
Lung smiled his most unctuous smile, "For a walk in the Park, my dear."
John walked across the expanse of grass, stepping onto the paved walkway at the water's edge. One hundred yards ahead, he saw the furtive movement of a small group of people, poised between the trees and the artificial lake. Three men and one woman, whose golden hair reflected what little ambient light there was so close to midnight. The men stood in a semicircle around the woman, who was sitting on the ground.
Meg. His Meg. John projected loving, reassuring thoughts to her across the distance between them, along the bond between their souls.
He could sense her nearness and relished it. He knew she was frightened and worried, but her brave heart beat strongly. His own swelled with pride and love for the singular woman Meg Coburn was.
The so called "Dragon" had not been able to stifle his impulse for one final phone call to mock John, and had finally introduced himself under the name he wished now to be called, Lung Shin. Wei's former chauffeur and hired muscle fancied himself now the new emperor in town.
The call had reaped unexpected benefits. First and foremost, it had informed John that his enemy was not the most stable of individuals, his hectoring taking on an almost juvenile tone before the call had been terminated.
Zedkov had extracted from John the identity of Wei's would-be successor. He remembered the cop shaking his head, recognizing their adversary as the same Wei gang member who had been dragged barely breathing from the wreck of Wei's car. He'd informed John of the man's physical state, more valuable information to carry with him as they met face to face.
Even as he grew to better know his nemesis, John's fear for Meg grew more intense. It was bad enough to deal with someone like Wei who despite his grief had never succumbed to irrationality. Logic was often more easy to meet and deal with than chaos.
He must not be distracted, must deal with the man as he found him. Get Meg away from him as quickly as possible. Only then would he be able to deal with Lung once and for all.
Meg sensed John's presence before she ever caught sight of him, the warmth of his love and concern for her bridging the physical distance between them. Ever the practicalist, she wished for extra sensory perception, even if she didn't believe in it, so that she could transmit to John the information she had been able to gather about their enemy. She formed the thoughts in her mind anyway, on the off chance that the two of them had somehow earned a miracle.
She could not help herself that her head swiveled in John's direction and her eyes sought him out long before he was ever visible. It was an action so natural and unconscious to her, that she never knew that her subtle movement alerted Lung to John's approach.
A smile lit the crippled man's face, even as John Lee coalesced before them out of the darkness.
"Welcome, John Lee. So glad you could make it," he tossed out the sardonic greeting.
Meg watched as John approached, then stopped, positioning himself at a right angle to her, not more than six feet away. Lung had shifted position slowly, never taking his gun off Meg as he stood to face John squarely some three feet to her right. Their relative positions took on shape of an obtuse triangle, Meg at the apex, John and Lung forming the base.
Lung turned towards one of his compatriots, "Pat him down," he ordered.
Lung's henchman approached John, who raised his arms partially in the air, giving a small grimace as the insulted muscles in his injured shoulder voiced a protest.
As he suffered the search, John shifted his gaze slightly to look at Meg. He quickly took in her aspect, noting, she was sure, the handcuffs in front of her, the bruise on her cheek.
The force of his regard took her breath away. If ever love, worry and reassurance had been formed together in one look before, he communicated his heart to her in that moment.
She concentrated on allowing her soul to fill her eyes in response.
As quickly and warmingly as his regard had met hers, his eyes now shifted away, the loving brown eyes of moments before replaced by orbs that glowed darkly and menacingly in the gloom.
The muscular aide patted him down, extracting a gun from the belt of his pants, behind his back.
Meg's heart could not help but sink, for all her faith in her beloved, to see him disarmed and seemingly vulnerable.
"I am here," John's voice was crisp, sharp as a bayonet, "let her go."
Lung laughed, an abrupt and mirthless bark.
"That isn't how it works, John. Your lady isn't going anywhere. Where is Wei's money? Don't tell me that you forgot to bring it, or Miss Meg dies right here, right now."
It didn't seem possible that John's gaze could become darker, but it did.
"I have brought what I could. The banks are long since closed. I will give you what you need to access the accounts in the morning."
John spoke levelly. Flashing his palm out, he reached into his jacket breast pocket and withdrew a paper which he shook out to full legal length. He tossed it into the air between them, his eyes never leaving Lung's as the document fluttered down to the ground.
Meg recognized it, even in the low light. The power of attorney they had dummied up, but never used. John must have signed it, found her illegal notary stamp and authenticated it. She held her breath as one of Lung's goons scooped it up and delivered it to his boss.
Lung peered at it in the low light, seemingly satisfied with its legitimacy. He stuffed it into the pocket of his suit coat.
"The two of you just became extraneous, John Lee, you and your lady love. Which one of you wants to die first?" Lung taunted. "I thought I'd shoot Meg first, make you watch her die. But I'm thinking now that it might be more interesting the other way around. Perhaps it is Meg who should scream to die after watching you suffer. I do so love to watch a heart being broken."
Meg had been preparing herself, as Lung's attention and that of his lackeys had focussed in on John. She'd worked at moving her legs beneath her, bunching her muscles preparatory
to making some movement, as diversion or escape, she was not sure which.
As Lung lifted and pointed his gun, she prepared herself for one superhuman movement.
The sequence of events of what happened next would take days to work out by ballistic experts and police crime scene investigators.
All Meg saw was Lung cocking the weapon and John standing defenseless a mere six feet from her.
Shots rang out, Lung's two thugs dropped where they stood. For a critical few seconds,
Lung hesitated, confused by the sudden change in fortunes.
Meg used that moment to make her move. With all the strength and force her body possessed, she threw herself the distance between herself and John, her shoulder connecting with his chest, just as the sound of a weapon discharging exploded behind them. She didn't hear the volley of shots that pierced the night, finishing the business that John had begun six months ago. Lung's lifeless body fell to the ground even as John's arms closed around her and the two of them tumbled over and over, rolling away from the scene of the meeting.
John had her in his arms, was looking down on her in astonishment and wonder. Wonder that slowly turned into horror as his hand came away from her back covered in blood.
She looked up at him, remembering that she owed him an answer to something, and that more than anything in this moment, she wanted to give that answer to him. But her eyes were swimming with black dots and it was hard to draw a breath. She became vaguely aware of the coppery taste of blood in her mouth again.
She looked up at John desperately, trying to communicate her love to him. But the world grew black, his beloved, worried face retreating away from her into darkness.
As though from a million miles away, she heard John's voice, an anguished cry that twisted at her heart.
"MEG!!!!"
End of Chapter 21
Meg moaned and raised herself up from the floor. She'd been momentarily stunned by the savage blow that had knocked her away from the cell phone. Carefully coached to speak only what "Dragon" told her to, she had known the risk of trying to warn John. Her only regret was that she had not gotten a chance to hear his voice before being knocked down.
She could taste blood in her mouth, from a cut to the inside of her cheek at the impact point. She spat trying to rid herself of the coppery taste.
Meg had never known her captor's name, but his face had been ingrained on her memory that day in Eddie's car wash. She still felt the occasional twinge in the kneecap he'd dislocated.
He was much changed from that self satisfied dandy, his face deeply scarred, his body no longer proudly erect, but slightly hunched as though he were in constant pain. The sight of him so altered had brought her a certain grim pleasure. For what he had done and what he now planned, she hoped his misery was exquisite.
Meg's legs still ached from the blow that he'd dealt them with his cane, but he'd inflicted less damage this time than his long ago kick had. He wasn't as strong as he thought he was, she was deeply bruised, but nothing was broken.
Meg had been playing up the injury however, pretending to be more disabled by his blow than she had been. She had to keep her options open.
John was back in LA. She knew that because "Dragon" or Lung-Shin as he'd taken to calling himself, had taunted her with the fact for the last few hours--keeping her periodically updated in his sardonic and sarcastic vocal manner of every move that John was making.
He seemed to know when his enemy left Bellevue for SEATAC airport, knew precisely which flight he'd taken, that it had been nonstop and on-time benefitting from favorable winds. He knew when John landed, even knew that the first place Lee had gone to was her own apartment.
Meg had realized quickly and ruefully that her role playing of the last few days had been wasted energy--utterly fruitless. She may have fooled a few of the unaffiliated bottom feeders, but not those she had intended to bait. They had seen through her the whole time.
How Loco must have laughed at her, after she pulled away from the arcade. He'd been in on Lung's plans from the beginning, .
Lung-Shin wasn't letting her forget any of it. He had made a point of berating her from the moment she'd awakened from the anesthetic dart.
As angry as her situation made her, at her captors and at herself, she saved most of her energy in unrelenting anxiety for John. She'd set out to make herself bait to trap a dragon. Her game was now being turned back on her to lure the man she loved more than life itself.
She kept her anger close and hot. She'd yet find a way to redress the balance, get some of her own back. She hoped in the process, that she'd be able to save John's life.
John Lee had said little since agreeing to a temporary alliance with Zedkov, instead forging ahead with his preparations while the police detective and Ruong-Jie attempted to keep up. Zedkov had been in constant contact with his partner, setting up the police side of things via cell phone, based on the information John had grudgingly given him.
Ruong Jie had studied his old comrade carefully as the duo had made their way back to John's loft. Zedkov made his separate way to avoid being seen with John Lee, as it was becoming obvious that surveillance on Meg had been more thoroughgoing and comprehensive than any of them could have guessed.
Jian was as focused and alert as Ruong could ever remember seeing him, but eerily silent, as though some part of him was very far away. He moved around his loft now, while Zedkov and Lau watched him, gathering weapons and paperwork, representative of Wei's wealth or camouflage, Ruong did not know which.
"You're going to wear a wire." Zedkov was saying as Jian sat down and methodically cleaned a gun he'd removed from his safe, pocketing a supply of ammunition.
John's head inclined, agreeing in silence.
"I don't suppose I can convince you not to wear a gun." Zedkov continued.
Li Jian-Hui looked up at him, his gaze darkly questioning.
"No. My adversary would be more suspicious if I came unarmed. You may arrest me for illegal possession of a firearm afterward." John's reply represented the largest number of words he'd spoken since they'd met him at Meg's apartment.
"Right. Okay, I've got a technician coming over with the wire. We need to discuss what is going to happen. I don't want to see any surprises out there. The only way this is going to work at all is if we all know our parts and stick to them."
John laid his gun down on the table, once again fixing Zedkov with a stare.
"I will do what I must. I will not be hobbled by overstrategizing. I welcome your assistance. I do not welcome your interference. I will cooperate as best I can, but I will not be ordered about."
Zedkov's eyebrows raised, but he did not argue with Jian, the debt he owed this man for his son's life seeming to buy an extra ration of forbearance.
"Then perhaps you will tell me what your plans are. I'll do my best to support them. Up to a point." Zeedo replied levelly.
John Lee, resuming his careful attention to the cleaning of his gun, did just that.
Meg found herself being shoved roughly into the back seat of the car by Lung's two goons.
Prepared for a veritable army surrounding John's enemy, she had never, at any point, seen anyone other than the two thugs who manhandled her now. She wondered at the fact, puzzling that he was not using a show of force and might to further intimidate her.
Could it be, for all his seeming omniscience, that he was not so heavily supported as he would like her and John to believe?
Meg had, by careful listening and observation, discovered that however powerful Lung might seem, here in his chosen setting and element, something rang false. His comrades treated him with deference and respect, but also seemed to regard him with the quiet assistance expected of caregivers for the infirm. She might have been imagining it, but there seemed to be a tinge of tolerance in their general mien, as though they acted less out of blind loyalty than a careful indulgence for the off-center sensibilities of a comrade.
A comrade who, at his core was not altogether stable, whose single-minded goal for revenge was the only thing keeping him focused and motivated. Perhaps the only thing that had kept him alive at all.
It was a dangerous combination, instability and blind hatred. But it presented opportunities as well. The chinks in the Lung armor were fascinating, and it was information she wished she had some way to communicate to John.
As Lung settled in next to her, keeping a gun pointed at her midsection, Meg spoke. She hoped her voice held the right amount of insolence.
"So where the hell are we going now? You've been shuttling me all over town."
Lung smiled his most unctuous smile, "For a walk in the Park, my dear."
John walked across the expanse of grass, stepping onto the paved walkway at the water's edge. One hundred yards ahead, he saw the furtive movement of a small group of people, poised between the trees and the artificial lake. Three men and one woman, whose golden hair reflected what little ambient light there was so close to midnight. The men stood in a semicircle around the woman, who was sitting on the ground.
Meg. His Meg. John projected loving, reassuring thoughts to her across the distance between them, along the bond between their souls.
He could sense her nearness and relished it. He knew she was frightened and worried, but her brave heart beat strongly. His own swelled with pride and love for the singular woman Meg Coburn was.
The so called "Dragon" had not been able to stifle his impulse for one final phone call to mock John, and had finally introduced himself under the name he wished now to be called, Lung Shin. Wei's former chauffeur and hired muscle fancied himself now the new emperor in town.
The call had reaped unexpected benefits. First and foremost, it had informed John that his enemy was not the most stable of individuals, his hectoring taking on an almost juvenile tone before the call had been terminated.
Zedkov had extracted from John the identity of Wei's would-be successor. He remembered the cop shaking his head, recognizing their adversary as the same Wei gang member who had been dragged barely breathing from the wreck of Wei's car. He'd informed John of the man's physical state, more valuable information to carry with him as they met face to face.
Even as he grew to better know his nemesis, John's fear for Meg grew more intense. It was bad enough to deal with someone like Wei who despite his grief had never succumbed to irrationality. Logic was often more easy to meet and deal with than chaos.
He must not be distracted, must deal with the man as he found him. Get Meg away from him as quickly as possible. Only then would he be able to deal with Lung once and for all.
Meg sensed John's presence before she ever caught sight of him, the warmth of his love and concern for her bridging the physical distance between them. Ever the practicalist, she wished for extra sensory perception, even if she didn't believe in it, so that she could transmit to John the information she had been able to gather about their enemy. She formed the thoughts in her mind anyway, on the off chance that the two of them had somehow earned a miracle.
She could not help herself that her head swiveled in John's direction and her eyes sought him out long before he was ever visible. It was an action so natural and unconscious to her, that she never knew that her subtle movement alerted Lung to John's approach.
A smile lit the crippled man's face, even as John Lee coalesced before them out of the darkness.
"Welcome, John Lee. So glad you could make it," he tossed out the sardonic greeting.
Meg watched as John approached, then stopped, positioning himself at a right angle to her, not more than six feet away. Lung had shifted position slowly, never taking his gun off Meg as he stood to face John squarely some three feet to her right. Their relative positions took on shape of an obtuse triangle, Meg at the apex, John and Lung forming the base.
Lung turned towards one of his compatriots, "Pat him down," he ordered.
Lung's henchman approached John, who raised his arms partially in the air, giving a small grimace as the insulted muscles in his injured shoulder voiced a protest.
As he suffered the search, John shifted his gaze slightly to look at Meg. He quickly took in her aspect, noting, she was sure, the handcuffs in front of her, the bruise on her cheek.
The force of his regard took her breath away. If ever love, worry and reassurance had been formed together in one look before, he communicated his heart to her in that moment.
She concentrated on allowing her soul to fill her eyes in response.
As quickly and warmingly as his regard had met hers, his eyes now shifted away, the loving brown eyes of moments before replaced by orbs that glowed darkly and menacingly in the gloom.
The muscular aide patted him down, extracting a gun from the belt of his pants, behind his back.
Meg's heart could not help but sink, for all her faith in her beloved, to see him disarmed and seemingly vulnerable.
"I am here," John's voice was crisp, sharp as a bayonet, "let her go."
Lung laughed, an abrupt and mirthless bark.
"That isn't how it works, John. Your lady isn't going anywhere. Where is Wei's money? Don't tell me that you forgot to bring it, or Miss Meg dies right here, right now."
It didn't seem possible that John's gaze could become darker, but it did.
"I have brought what I could. The banks are long since closed. I will give you what you need to access the accounts in the morning."
John spoke levelly. Flashing his palm out, he reached into his jacket breast pocket and withdrew a paper which he shook out to full legal length. He tossed it into the air between them, his eyes never leaving Lung's as the document fluttered down to the ground.
Meg recognized it, even in the low light. The power of attorney they had dummied up, but never used. John must have signed it, found her illegal notary stamp and authenticated it. She held her breath as one of Lung's goons scooped it up and delivered it to his boss.
Lung peered at it in the low light, seemingly satisfied with its legitimacy. He stuffed it into the pocket of his suit coat.
"The two of you just became extraneous, John Lee, you and your lady love. Which one of you wants to die first?" Lung taunted. "I thought I'd shoot Meg first, make you watch her die. But I'm thinking now that it might be more interesting the other way around. Perhaps it is Meg who should scream to die after watching you suffer. I do so love to watch a heart being broken."
Meg had been preparing herself, as Lung's attention and that of his lackeys had focussed in on John. She'd worked at moving her legs beneath her, bunching her muscles preparatory
to making some movement, as diversion or escape, she was not sure which.
As Lung lifted and pointed his gun, she prepared herself for one superhuman movement.
The sequence of events of what happened next would take days to work out by ballistic experts and police crime scene investigators.
All Meg saw was Lung cocking the weapon and John standing defenseless a mere six feet from her.
Shots rang out, Lung's two thugs dropped where they stood. For a critical few seconds,
Lung hesitated, confused by the sudden change in fortunes.
Meg used that moment to make her move. With all the strength and force her body possessed, she threw herself the distance between herself and John, her shoulder connecting with his chest, just as the sound of a weapon discharging exploded behind them. She didn't hear the volley of shots that pierced the night, finishing the business that John had begun six months ago. Lung's lifeless body fell to the ground even as John's arms closed around her and the two of them tumbled over and over, rolling away from the scene of the meeting.
John had her in his arms, was looking down on her in astonishment and wonder. Wonder that slowly turned into horror as his hand came away from her back covered in blood.
She looked up at him, remembering that she owed him an answer to something, and that more than anything in this moment, she wanted to give that answer to him. But her eyes were swimming with black dots and it was hard to draw a breath. She became vaguely aware of the coppery taste of blood in her mouth again.
She looked up at John desperately, trying to communicate her love to him. But the world grew black, his beloved, worried face retreating away from her into darkness.
As though from a million miles away, she heard John's voice, an anguished cry that twisted at her heart.
"MEG!!!!"
End of Chapter 21