Chapter 12 – Come Together
At only thirty, Jin Cheong was young to be the head of an international crime syndicate. But he was a predator with a pedigree and connections that stretched throughout the Asian underworld and beyond. The North Koreans, the Russians, the Burmese drug lords all benefited and prospered in their dealings with the organization he inherited after the death of Lijuan. What she had treated in a merely dilatory way as a hobby, he had grown into a business. That his ancestry was that of the Aisin Gioro of Yoshiko Kawashima was of no interest to the company he kept.
A private army of Sarkhanese gunmen made Jin Cheong a force to be reckoned with. These descendants of the World War II refugees from Manchukuo had passed their loyalty to the Aisin Gioro down to their children. The most capable and ruthless had followed Jin Cheong when he relocated the syndicate up north to Bangkok, Thailand - a city he vastly preferred over the parochial Haidho.
Tonight Jin Cheong was not in Bangkok. He stood in the dining room of his mega yacht, the Souheki off the harbor entrance of Roanapur. No longer the slender youth, he had become a solidly built man with a square flat face and a taste for fine clothing. A scantily clad girl clung to his arm. Jin Cheong was speaking on a cellphone, a semicircle of men waited on his command.
"No, I'm weighing anchor and getting away from this shit hole," he said after a while scratching at an earlobe. "That vory bitch was never here . . . found out that Balalaika was in Pattaya on holiday if you can believe Fryface actually taking time off . . . the business with my bar was a setup . . . probably that bastard Chang . . . What?"
Jin Cheong was silent. His face darkened with anger and he clenched his mouth so the muscles in his jaw stood out. Suddenly he flung the cellphone violently away. It flew across the room and shattered against the wall into pieces. He pushed aside the fearful girl and balled his fists together, breathing heavily.
"Ebony and Ivory," he gritted out. "They'll regret this."
He made a decision.
"Two boats, ten men," he barked. "We're going ashore. Now. It's not the Triads after all, just a family matter."
--
The old man closed the lid of the cellphone. "It is done. Jin Cheong is coming."
Chang nodded, gripping his hands together till the knuckles cracked.
The limousine was last in the line of dark sedans parked along the side of the road. The engines of the cars were idling, but all the lights were off. Chang sat in the rear of the limousine with the old man.
The old man sighed. "You loved Lijuan did you not?"
Chang looked down. "That was a long time ago. When she was alive. . . yes. But then, to find out what she was. It was too much. Perhaps our governments have forgotten, but we haven't. What happened in Shanghai cannot be forgiven should a thousand years pass. Perhaps if they had chosen a different path, but none of Yoshiko Kawashima's descendants have made amends. . . in any way."
The old man said: "Then the Triads will dispense justice. A sorry thing indeed."
"You are the one who has betrayed them," said Chang with a sneer. He shifted in the seat and adjusted his white silk scarf.
There was a little pause, then the old man asked: "If you had a daughter – and one day you found her hanging by the neck – and you knew it was because the ones you served with such loyalty had slaughtered her son for their little amusements. When you have suffered that, then talk to me about betrayal."
Chang grimaced unseen in the dark.
"I served them well," insisted the old man. "I was there the day they heard their Aunt was dead. I was the one who kept the three safe from harm till they could stand on their own – and for what? The destruction of my own family? Jin Cheong is a brute. Unimaginative and dismal of temperament. Lifeng is dangerously insane and evil. And then there is Liling. In some ways she is the worst, because she knows better – she allows herself to be used and protects that monster of a twin."
Chang rubbed his chin with the fingers of his right hand. "They are the last. You know how this ends."
"What of your own obligations?" asked the old man unexpectedly. "Regardless of what Lijuan was, should you not finish the job she started? This Chinese-American mongrel caused her death somehow. It is a matter of honor."
"Well," said Chang embarassed. "That's open to interpretation. After all the girl Revy's a protege of mine. Who would have thought we had such an interesting history? I certainly wouldn't have taken her under my tutelage those years ago if I had known she was Lijuan's killer."
Biu rapped on the window. Glad for the interruption, Chang rolled down the window and looked out.
"From what we can tell the entry is clear," said Biu, his hair slick and dripping in the rain. "The Lagoon girl took out the guards and went straight for the Nova. There was shooting, but it seems to have ended – how, and to whose advantage is unknown. Also, the cleaner is here."
Chang nodded. "Let's finish this. As for the cleaner, tell her it will be the usual fee. "
--
Rotton turned off the engine and the lights. Sawyer sat in the passenger side of the truck humming. She hummed by holding the ultravoice to her throat.
"What... what would be the most horrible way to die?" she asked, licking her blood red lips as they sat waiting. The rain beat on the windshield.
"I try very hard to avoid dieing," said Rotton curtly and without his usual flair. Sawyer had insisted that he ditch his trademark look and dress in surgical garb for the job. He felt like a fool. And this was certainly a job that did not meet up to his usual raison d'etre.
"Ehhh... well for me, the worst way would be... to have the ultravoice taken away... to be buried alive... and then the rats would come... no one would hear me as they start to..."
"Hold on," Rotton interrupted. He dug in the overhead compartment. "Where did I... there they are."
"... they would eat..." Sawyer broke off and glared at Rotton with her sapphire blue eyes. "What are you doing?"
"Hand wipes," said Rotton vigorously scrubbing his hands. "If we're going to be moving a bunch of bodies I want to be clean – before and after."
Sawyer pulled the work goggles down with an emphatic snap of the elastic. "Are you now... or have you ever been... a member of the boy scouts?"
A figure moved out of the gloom in front of the truck and signaled them. Rotton recognized him immediately. It was Mr. Chang's right hand man Biu.
Sawyer pulled up the face mask.
"I already have all the details," she said in her sterile augmented voice. "We'll have all night and day... to do our work when they are done... The Triad will close off the entry road to Nhakon Ratch... Fingers need to be cut off... Teeth smashed... Personal effects destroyed... Bloodstains cleaned... Bodies bagged... It's not glamorous ... It's work... I'll take care of the specifics... just help with the heavy lifting."
Rotton blinked. It was the longest speech he had heard the gothic gamine make.
"A cleaner comes... to the stage after the audience has left," said Sawyer reflectively. "No one wants ... to experience our performance. But I always close the show."