Two Years Later...
"Here's to success!" Liu said in English and lifted his glass. They were drinking champagne, so Christie met his toast with her own, the crystal flutes clinking together. She didn't particularly like champagne; when she drank she preferred something with a kick to it. Scotch, preferably, or her favorite cocktail, a Bloody Mary. She was still young enough to enjoy the irony when she ordered one.
"Indeed."
The terraced dining room looked out over Repulse Bay, with glass walls letting diners partake of the twilight sun sparkling off the water without having to admit insects, humidity, or pollution. The sky was streaked with orange and red, heralding the coming darkness.
"So," Christie asked, deftly cutting into her salmon almondine, "why this?" She indicated the restaurant with a circling wave of her fork. The chef had been there only three months and already Renard's was said to offer the best French cuisine in the city. "I've never known you to favor Western food."
"Can't a man act on a whim?"
She laughed then, letting the faintest hint of mockery slip into the tone, just enough to tease without insult.
"A whim? Liu, you've never acted on a whim in your life."
He tilted his head to the side, an expression just like a curious puppy. Seeing it on this man, who was as unlike a puppy as anyone she knew, almost made Christie burst out laughing. Only with effort did she hold her tongue.
"Really? I seem to recall one particular whim that played out rather well for us both."
Christie dismissed that with a wave of one gloved hand. The formal outfit was another thing not really to her taste. Give her a midriff-baring T-shirt or something in tight black leather, and a hard rock beat blaring from dance club speakers instead of this overdone luxury. Not that luxury didn't beat hell out of the back streets, having to fight for survival, but for a celebration.
"That wasn't a whim. That was intuition. Instinct. You've got more of that than any man I know."
"You're flattering me."
"It isn't just me. Master Su says that's why he calls you 'tiger,' not for your fighting style. You sense opportunity, in and out of combat, and you act at once without having to stop and make plans. There's no hesitation in you, no fear."
In saying it, Christie realized something else, that this was the quality she found most enticing in Three-Ox Liu. The Red Phoenix's 438 was a powerfully attractive man. His body was part of it, his size and strength, but even that was really more of an extension of his will. She'd known equally big men who nonetheless lacked the aura of physicality Liu had, the sense of being engulfed in the presence that he projected, and this was all a function of his strong will, the force and resolve of his personality. She found herself wondering how those hard, flat muscles would feel under her hands, resisting the pressure of her avid fingers.
It was only when her own thoughts began to turn in that direction that things fell into place for her. She'd never considered Liu before in a sexual sense; his role in her life was too well-defined in other ways, and besides, he was forty-one, with a son Christie's age...but society defines what was attractive in a man in ways that aren't associated with youth alone. There and then, Christie's body was telling her that it wanted very much to take Liu to bed, and once she started thinking in terms of seduction she realized that she was in the middle of one.
It almost made her laugh. The expensive restaurant and the fancy dinner was the setting, and the fact that the restaurant was that of a first-class hotel was convenient, to say the least.
She wondered what could have been going through Liu's mind. For two years, his relationship with her had been simple. He identified targets, provided any necessary requirements for the job--time, place, method--and she unfailingly carried the orders out. There was a curious intimacy to it, not just from the fact that they were bringing death to others, but because of the isolation of Christie's position. She wasn't a member of the triad, a part and parcel of their plans, but Liu's freelancer. Indeed, some of the kills she'd made were, to the best of her knowledge, to suit Liu's personal agenda instead of the triad's.
That kind of intimacy, though, wasn't the kind that naturally led to the bedroom. Partners in crime, perhaps? Or the link between the elemental passions of sex and death? These didn't fit with the coldness that went between employer and assassin. But it had undeniably happened; Liu's eyes were, she now saw, hot upon her.
It was too bad, really, that she couldn't give him the chance to go through with it. Underworld gossip was high on Liu's prowess with women, and Christie didn't doubt it was true.
"So tell me," she said, hastily picking up the thread of the conversation, "has that resolve been rewarded?"
Liu smiled broadly, a grinning Bhudda of a face.
"It has. Venerable Pien has confirmed it. I am to be his appointed successor." Venerable Pien was the 489, the head of the Red Phoenix.
"It must have been difficult for him to put aside his nephew in your place."
"There was no other choice. Anthony Pien may be excellent with finances, but he is an accountant, a paper-pusher. He embarrassed himself with his inability to solve the war with the 14K over the opium trade, which in turn I was able to do."
Liu's success in that matter, Christie knew, was entirely due to her. The harbormaster had had his pockets well filled by the 14K to arrange for tip-offs of customs raids and to leak information about Red Phoenix shipments to the law. Christie's knife had provided an opening in the position, and his replacement had been a man whose personal sexual habits were well detailed in her father's records. Thus no matter how much h'yueng yau, the fragrant grease, the 14K tried to spread they would not find him amenable to their persuasions. Thus by taking Christie under his wing five years past, he'd come to within a single step of his ultimate ambition.
It has worked out nicely, hasn't it? she thought. For him...and for me.
"So this is a celebration, then."
"It is."
"In which case," she said, "I have something that might serve to make the night even more special."
She reached into her purse and placed something on the crisp, white linen tablecloth.
It was a room key from the hotel.
-X X X-
Liu could not believe his good fortune. He'd fully intended to take Christie to bed that night and it seemed that rather than have to seduce her into it she'd had the same intent all along. And why not? It had been the two of them together than had sealed Liu's forthcoming ascension. Her expertise at killing--which he'd cleverly cultivated--and the data she'd brought him--which he'd had the good sense to pursue. A liaison with her was only closing the circle, in a way, an acknowledgment of the goof fortune she'd brought.
Not that it hurt at all that she'd grown up from a malnourished waif to a stunning young woman. Perhaps because he himself was so big, Liu preferred tall and curvaceous women to petite ones, and Christie was just that type. And she carried herself like she knew it, too, as if she could feel his thoughts and liked them/
To hell with fate, luck, or that mystic rot, Liu told himself with blunt honesty. You're aching to get your hands on her. As they rode the overdecorated elevator, all dark wood and baroque gilt, she stood just close enough to him so that her hip brushed his thigh and it was all he could do not to push her up against the elevator wall, cover her mouth with his, and take her there. He probably would have, had there not been other people riding with them.
They went to her room, which was not so well-appointed as the suite Liu had chosen but had the distinct advantage of being hers. A woman was always far more amenable when she believed things were proceeding on her terms. Even as the door slammed shut he drew her hard against her, kissed her. Her arms wound around his neck and Liu realized that some part of his awareness had still made sure her hands were empty. This kind of attention to personal safety could not be turned on and off. Especially when one was dealing with someone of Christie's particular talents.
Oddly enough, he found that this did not distract him from his arousal but rather heightened it. Liu was aching with need as she slithered from his grasp. She walked--no, strutted--away from him, her body holding his gaze as if by magnetic force. Christie reached for a door handle and turned it.
"I'll be right back, Liu, just as soon as I...what's the phrase? Yes, 'slip into something more comfortable.'" She even made a production out of sliding around the half-opened door, finally blowing him a kiss before slipping behind it and pulling it shut.
Where did she learn to tease a man like that? Liu marveled. He wanted to pursue, but restrained himself, wanting even more to see what she would do next.
He didn't have long to wait.
It happened no more than a minute after she'd left the room. Christie reappeared, but not in person. Instead, the screen of a laptop computer that had been sitting open on the dresser came to life. The machine had been on but in sleep mode; Liu had barely registered its presence. A video was playing now, apparently over a wireless Internet connection.
"Congratulations, Liu," Christie said. "It seems you've attained the pinnacle of power you've always dreamed of. I'm afraid, though, that I have other plans. I understand that you have hopes of establishing a family dynasty at the head of the Red Phoenix, so I'd advise you to sit and listen...if you should care about that."
The webcam zoomed out, revealing a hotel room much like the one Liu was in. Those details were peripheral, though. His attention was entirely caught by the young Chinese man seated in the straight-backed chair. Steel flex was wound around his body, holding him firmly anchored to the seat, and speckles of blood showed here and there on his white shirt and khaki slacks. A red rubber ball gag had been jammed into his mouth, the straps distorting the shape of his cheeks and jawline. A cut on his forehead was mostly scabbed over. Anger warred with fear in the boy's eyes, and was losing.
"You do not want to make any sudden moves that might cause my hand to slip," she advised. That hand held a stiletto which was pressed up against the throat of the young man. The warning was well-advised, for Liu was possessed at once with the same emotions that possessed the boy: fury at the predicament, terror at the possible consequences.
Fear was not an old friend with Three-Ox Liu the way it was with some men, but he felt its icy grip on his heart, choking his windpipe closed.
The young Chinese man was Liu's son. His only child.