Chapter Three – Segue to a Murder
Ten years ago, Haidho - Sarkhan
The house was perched on a high promontory overlooking the Bay of Thailand. Constructed of horizontal slabs of white-washed concrete overlaid with a green patina of mold, and long stretches of glass; there was nothing traditional or attractive in it's design. The American Ambassador to Sarkhan of the 1960s had lived there for a time, and had oftentimes referred to the structure as "being designed by Frank Lloyd Wrong."
The air was humid and thick so that the continual stream of ships going back and forth to Bangkok were indistinct in the haze. Occasionally a ship would veer off the shipping lane and head slowly towards Haidho, attracting the attention of the guard on the house porch that jutted out over the edge of the cliff.
A young man, somewhat less than twenty years of age burst out through the arched doorway onto the porch. He was slender, dark skinned, but with features that hinted at mixed ancestry, both eastern and western. He wore blue jeans and a black t-shirt with a Van Halen logo. He was breathing heavily.
"Give me those!" he grabbed for the binoculars hanging from the neck of the startled guard. Then he stood stiffly up against the railing, scanning the horizon. His hand were shaking.
Somewhere in the house behind him there was screaming.
Five minutes passed, the screaming continued, now an off-pitch duet. Two other men joined the guard and stood several paces behind with the uneasy guard. One was elderly, with a white wisp of a beard. The other supported himself on a crutch, his face shiny and taut from barely healed burn wounds.
The elderly man cleared his throat.
"They're not coming, Master Cheong," he said. "Neither Beijing or Taipei know. We're still safe."
The young man, shifted his feet and then lowered the binoculars. "I suppose you're right. Why would they care?"
Cheong turned away from the railing, rolled his shoulders. His eyes were tight, "Could somebody shut those two the fuck up?"
The guard nodded, but before he could act, the source of the screaming appeared. The twins stumbled through the doorway clutching each other for support. Tears streaked their faces. Around thirteen years of age, they were short of height and fine featured. Both bore a familial resemblance to Cheong; but one girl was white haired with abnormally pale skin for an Asian.
Cheong sneered. "The freaks are here," he said. "Ebony and Ivory. Both of you -- shut up, or I'll throw you both over the edge."
The girls stopped abruptly. They both breathed thickly and heavily, met their brother's look with a fixed and unblinking double stare. They continued to hold each other.
"Ayi's dead," said Cheong flatly. The albino whimpered, the other's mouth flattened in a thin line. Cheong gestured at the injured man. "He'll tell us what happened."
"Sir," said the man brokenly.
"Just tell it," said the elderly advisor harshly.
The story took time to tell, the account was fractured and unclear, and the older man had to stop and ask the injured man to back up and repeat himself. The twins stood motionless and confused.
Cheong leaned back against the railing and let his attention and gaze drift to look towards the city skyline of Haidho on his left, north of the promontory.
"You're not listening," shrilled the dark haired girl suddenly, cutting off the injured man. They stood in the doorway with the painted but faded yellow star of Manchukuo above them. Cheong's lips twitched in a shadowy smile.
"There is nothing to listen to," said Cheong. "Our Ayi, the Great White Assassin got herself barbecued. So much for Aisin Gioro Lijuan. Now I'm the head of the family. Deal with it. End of story."
"We can't even retrieve the body," said the elderly advisor. "We can't let anyone know who she was. From what I understand the Americans will keep her remains in a morgue for a certain time and then bury her. It's a disgrace that she won't be returned to her family, but what can we do?"
"Yeah, what can we do?" said Cheong . "It's a shame, but we must move on from this... disaster. I'm calling a meeting for tomorrow, speak to the appropriate people, that sort of stuff."
"As for you," the smile vanished. "You failed the Aisin Gioro."
The injured man bowed, put down the crutch. He limped to the railing and failing an attempt to climb it, simply rolled himself over the edge. He fell without a sound.
Cheong stepped past the two girls and back into the house. The elderly advisor followed.
The wind picked up, blew their hair together, they were so close. Black and white strands intertwined and were one. They stepped apart but continued to hold hands.
"Promise me," said Lifeng. "Promise me we'll find whoever killed Ayi.'ll find them and we'll hurt them and hurt them. And then we'll take them fishing just like Auntie showed us."
"I promise," said Liling with youthful sincerity. She grabbed her sister as the albino broke into tears again. "I promise, I promise."
--
Three years ago, Washington D.C., USA
"My name is Yoshi Kawashima," said Liling. She sat down in the offered chair and smiled enthusiastically at the senator, her skirt sliding up her thighs as she wiggled about.
"I am so glad you made time for me."
The senator smiled appreciatively, leaned back in his chair for a better look. His office was strategically placed so that the Washington Monument was visible through the window. "You're very welcome young lady. I'm surprised though, if you're representing the nation of Sarkhan; why do you have a Japanese name?"
"My family are what you call expatriates. Sarkhan has taken us into their heart and souls and we have served them likewise," " said Liling artlessly. "We have been a closed country since the Cambodian occupation, but the times are changing. It is so embarrassing that the Asian Tigers are doing so well economically, and we are not. That is why the government asked my brother to engage in discussion. See if we can arrange a meeting at a more formal time and place."
"That can be done," said the senator. The young woman was barely twenty-one, but she was poised and sure of herself. He was impressed, in more than one way.
"Sir, if I could make a personal request ," said Liling at the end of the discussion. She put the card with the hotel address onto his desk. "A close friend of our family died tragically here in the states eight years ago. At the time though, it was far too difficult, with the political situation to arrange anything."
"I'll look into it," said the senator sliding the card off the desk. He motioned to his aide, "what do you want us to do."
"She died in a car accident," said Liling looking up avidly. "In Connecticut, I believe."
--
"We don't want to touch this," said the aide. He handed the report over.
"I remember now," said the senator reflectively. "It was a massacre, big flash in the pan in the news cycle. But the details were never figured out. A robbery gone bad or something. Didn't it end with a multi-car pileup on I-95? Right around where that disc jockey, Don Imus lives."
"It's worse than that," said the aide. "This part was classified: Six Thai ex-military were found dead on adjacent rooftops of the initial crime scene. And at the time it was one of the biggest heroin busts on record. But that's not all; the body this young lady is interested in having returned to Sarkhan was apparently one of the nastier assassin types ever tracked by the CIA. They were not happy with me digging this up."
"Sarkhan has such economic possibilities," said the senator. "This is a major opportunity to get back in now that the Russians are out of the picture in Sarkhan. Let's make it happen for the young lady."
His hand was in his coat pocket, fingers caressing the card.
--
Three years ago – East Side, New York City, USA
A night club: pulsing lights, pounding noise. Young bodies jostled the dance floor.
"That was a long time ago Ms. Kawashima," shouted the owner flanked by his bouncers. A petite young woman sat on a barstool, turned towards him. "I'm respectable now, I own a legit biz."
"Sure you do," Liling sipped the offered drink. "Just tell me what happened?"
"Great White was hired at the last moment by the Tongs to take care of a problem," the owner wiped his brow. "It wasn't just that the Vietnamese were trying to muscle in on our territory, it was who they had doing it. Some killer kid. She was gunning people down in broad daylight. Killed like twenty people singlehanded at a funeral in Jersey."
"She?" Liling cried out. She stood up. "It was a girl? A girl killed Ayi ?"
"Not really sure," the owner. "Almost anyone who knew anything got themselves dead. Except one..."
--
Two years ago - Port Charles, Texas, USA
"Not many girls like fishing," said Nguyen Thang. He bent over to open the package.
"Bet this'll gross you out, Yoshi. Catfish love chicken liver, they can smell it a mile away. Sorry, it's not much of a date is it?"
Lifeng curled up on the blanket beside him. They were beneath an underpass in the flat muddy landscape outside Port Charles. It was hot and humid as always, and the clouds were piling up in the late afternoon sky. She had colored her hair black and was wearing contact lenses. "I do not mind. I love to fish," she said, the English too clipped, too precise.
Nguyen cut a piece of liver, put it on the hook and then cast his line into the muddy ditch that stretched in a straight line in either direction. He drove the knife blade into the ground and sat down on the upturned spackle bucket. Lifeng ran her hand up along his leg.
"I really don't like talking about it," he sighed later. He felt totally relaxed with this young woman, she was so attentive and focused. His luck was finally changing. "I blame that girl. We were just playing at being a New York city street gang, even had handles -- I was Sad Eyes -- and then the next thing we know we're being sent out on road crew work."
"What was that all about," Lifeng asked.
"They'd send us out all along the East Coast to rob people," said Nguyen bitterly. "We preyed on our own people. It was bad. I paid for it though; five years in prison. Got shanked the first week I was in and had to be put in solitary. Someone thought I was going to rat. Got paroled on good behavior and came down here. Only job I could get was the night shift at that gas station though."
"Who was the girl?"
"Rebecca, Revy... something like that," Nguyen shrugged uneasily and looked away. "I actually had a crush on her. But there was something wrong about her, just plain evil. I mean, people just died when she was around."
"What happened to this creature? This… Revy?" Lifeng asked, hand tightening on his thigh.
"She has to be dead, they're all dead... please... let's not talk about it anymore Yoshi" pleaded Nguyen Thang, aka Sad Eyes. The fishing line suddenly snapped taut. He stood up, thankful for the interruption, "Oh, I got one!"
"So did I," said Lifeng.
She pulled the knife out of the ground.
--
LAX Airport, Los Angeles, USA
"Then they're all dead?" said Liling. She examined her sister's face closely. Something was wrong: The white hair slightly disheveled, a sated unfocused look in the eyes. As if she was somewhere far, far away.
"Mr. Sad Eyes was right," Lifeng said abruptly to Liling as they entered the terminal at LAX for the flight back to the Philippines, and then Sarkhan.
"Catfish do like liver."