Chapter Seven
"I'm sorry, I still don't understand. What exactly is it that you want from me?"
"I need a forgery."
"Of what?"
Liao silently ordered the woman to cover herself once more. She bent down and picked up her black silk robe. She slipped it back on and went back to staring out the window at the city. Liao walked over to the door and knocked on it with a sharp rap. Hsing came through the door with a long cylinder wrapped in black velvet. She glanced nervously at Neal before handing over the object.
Liao carefully removed the velvet sheet revealing a rolled up laminated sheet. He slowly unrolled the sheet and showed it to Neal. It was a stunning sumi-e ink painting of a traditional Japanese garden scene. A cherry tree branch swept down the lift side and dominated the viewer's attention with its delicate detail. A signing bird was perched on the branch with her beak open wide in mid-song. A stylized waterfall made up most of the background that gave way to a pond full of koi.
The upper right side held a poem in perfect Japanese calligraphy. Neal knew that no sumi-e painting was truly complete without a poem. Artists were expected to be masters of painting, calligraphy, and romantic word. Neal's grasp of Japanese kanji was not strong enough to allow him to translate the highly stylized writing at first glance.
The work was stunning, clearly done by the hand of a master. The easy free style flow made each brush stroke count. With ink there was no room for hesitation or mistakes. Oil was a very forgiving medium, even pastels would allow the user to fake confidence. When working with ink wash the artist had to trust his hand one hundred percent.
After a quick view of the work itself Neal tried to identify what it had been painted on. It didn't look like rice paper, it was too transparent. There were some imperfection in the canvas that gave it an organic feel. It wasn't until Neal paid a little closer attention to the shape of the piece that he had a sickening revelation.
"Is that human skin?" Neal asked nervously.
"Yes it is. A tattoo that will truly last forever."
"Unlike its original owner."
"She died of natural causes if that makes you feel better."
"It doesn't."
Liao chuckled and tried to offer Neal the laminated tattoo. Putting his hands behind his back he took a step back. A look of irritation flashed over Liao's face. He handed the tattoo to Hsing and she carefully rolled it back up and wrapped it up in the velvet. The reverence with which she handled it gave Neal the feeling that she had known the woman who owned the tattoo.
"I need that tattoo recreated on her." Liao pointed to the mysterious woman in the silk robe.
"I'm not a tattoo artists." Neal protested. "Even if I was, it takes years to complete a piece like that. A full back piece needs to be done in sections, letting each one heal in between."
"It doesn't need to be real. I will provide you with special inks that mimic a real tattoo perfectly. The results are waterproof and last for days. I have both the brushes and airbrushes that you will need, and I can get anything else that you discover you need."
"The finest equipment in the world doesn't change the fact that I'm an oil and pastel artist. I don't have the right skills to pull this off."
"Bonds are made with ink, a little bird told me you're particularly skilled in that area."
"Bonds are very different. It takes time to learn a new technique, it takes practice and..."
Before Neal could finish Liao gave the two ever present body guards a meaningful glance. The pair launched into action without hesitation. Neal's sapphire eyes widened in alarm as the two men closed in on him. He put his hands up in front of himself in submission rather than true defense. Knowing he couldn't win a physical fight he tried to stall by backing away.
One of the men circled around behind him to keep him from backing farther away. Neal cried out as the man behind him kicked him sharply in the back of the knee to bring him down. As Neal dropped to his knees the man tore the jacket to his suit from him. With a flash of steel the man in front slipped a knife under his tie and cut it free. They worked as a pair to rip open the white blood stained dress shirt and pulled it away from him as well. Stripped to the waist Neal stayed on his knees and glared up at Liao.
"There you go," Liao smiled "plenty of canvas to practice on."
"Thanks." Neal said drily.
"If that's not enough..." Liao trailed off as his men moved towards Hsing.
Hsing's beaten expression turned to one of panic as she looked for an exit that she knew didn't exist.
"No, leave her alone, please." Neal begged as he got to his feet. "Just get me the inks, I'll see what I can do."
"Excellent. I'll give you twenty four hours, after that I expect you to be working on the piece I've requested."
"I can't promise that I'll be able to do this."
"Ink painting is all about confidence, Mr. Caffrey." Liao pointed out. "Show a little faith in yourself. You've never been modest about being 'the best' before, don't start now."
Neal felt a flash of anger wash over him, but he resisted the urge to lash out at Liao knowing that it wouldn't end well. Liao gave his orders and Hsing gratefully disappeared out into the hallway. She returned with a large canvas bag that was almost too heavy for her to carry. She placed it next to Neal and after a shallow bow she backed away and disappeared.
Neal knelt down and opened the bag and rummaged through the contents. There were a dozen unlabeled jars of ink in eight different colors. Neal brought out the selection of brushes and tested the bristles. He decided that the sable ones were probably going to be the best tool for the job. There was an airbrush gun along with a small air compressor, however he'd never even touched an airbrush before and wasn't even certain how to put it together. The last piece of the puzzle was a large book on sumi-e ink brush technique.
"If you need anything else, don't hesitate to ask."
"A cell phone and a new shirt?" Neal asked hopefully.
Liao chuckled and shook his head. Neal was really starting to hate the man's laugh. Liao snapped his fingers and the woman in the black robe narrowed her dark eyes in irritation. It was the first show of emotion that Neal had noticed on her stone face. He hoped her could use her clear distaste for taking orders from Liao to his advantage. For now Liao and the others left.
Neal didn't move for a while after his company left. He was trying to decide what he should do next. Liao was keeping him on far tighter a leash than he was used to. It was difficult to con someone when they already had their defenses against it up. Sighing heavily he picked up a jar of black ink, a fine sable brush, and the book on sumi-e.
Taking the items over to the couch by the window Neal snapped on the lamp on the end table. He spent an hour reading through the book. Putting the book in his lap open to a painting of an intricate eastern dragon he opened the jar of black ink. The book taught him that he had to actually hold the paintbrush differently than he would when working on an oil painting. Dipping the sable brush into the ebony ink he began to copy the smiling dragon onto the underside of his left arm.
Neal lost track of time as he slowly recreated the dragon onto his skin. The ink was difficult to work with, and extremely unforgiving. The fantasy animal that took shape on his flesh was a masterpiece that any tattoo enthusiast would be proud to wear for a lifetime. However what concerned Neal was the fact that it didn't have the same feel as the original artwork. Switching to calligraphy Neal began adding kanji to his dragon.
When the underside of his arm was fully painted Neal started leafing through the book once more. He came to a very simple painting of a bird in mid song. It was much like the one sitting on the cherry tree on the tattoo that he was being forced to forge. However the bird in this painting had more energy to it. The wings looked almost like they had been formed out of a random ink spatter, the tail was made of two strong brush strokes. The bird's expression was one of mournful passion. Neal could almost hear the golden song just looking at the painting.
Intrigued by the painting Neal held the book in his left hand and began painting the song bird on his chest. Before each stroke he took a deep breath and held it while he applied the ink. He quickly learned that the deep breathing not only relaxed him, but improved the quality of his work. The bird looked as though it had been splashed over his heart almost by accident. When he was done Neal put the ink and the book down.
Having lost track of both time and pain in art Neal reached up and accidentally scratched at the cut under his throat from Liao's knife. The fresh wound opened back up and began to bleed once more. Neal pressed his hand against the new gush of blood. Getting to his feet he went over to the small bathroom connect to his room and tried to stop the bleeding.
After washing off the dried blood Neal tried to slow the fresh bleeding with one of the white hand towels. The towel seemed to help, however when he pulled it away from the cut the cotton ended up stuck to the clotting blood and just reopened the wound. He was about to give up when there was a knock at the door that could only belong to Hsing. Seconds after the knock Hsing stepped into the room with a handful of medical supplies.
"Hsing." Neal greeted warmly.
"I've been sent to tend to your throat."
"Thank you."
"Please sit down."
Neal nodded, making the bleeding worse. He went back over to the couch and sat down. Hsing sat down on the small matching ottoman. She put the supplies she brought down on the seat next to her before reaching out and gently guiding Neal to look up. Neal held still as she used an alcohol pad to clean the cut. Using gauze that did not stick to the blood the same way the towel did Hsing was able to get the shallow wound to stop bleeding. She applied some antibiotic ointment to the length of the cut.
Sensing she was finished Neal brought his head back down. He was expecting to meet Hsing's gaze, but she was looking at the bird that he had painted on his chest. She reached out and lightly traced the temporary tattoo. The ink held fast and didn't smear under her touch.
"A nightingale." Hsing said softly. "It suits you well."
"Oh? Why is that?"
"Nightingales do not sing as beautifully in captivity as they do when they are free."
"I am finding it difficult to find artistic inspiration locked up in here."
"Is there anything else you require?" Hsing asked to change the subject as she glanced up nervously at the camera that was watching them.
"Now that you mention it, I could use a shoulder to try on..."
Hsing looked at Neal doubtfully and he attempted to reassure her with a bright innocent smile. Although looking unhappy about the idea Hsing nodded and got to her feet. She turned around and sat on the floor between Neal's feet with her back to him. She undid the top few buttons of her shirt and expose just her shoulder.
Opening the ink once more Neal dipped the brush tip into it. He leaned in close and swept Hsing's hair off her shoulder and began painting a plum tree branch on her exposed skin. He was counting on the fact that the camera had a weak microphone, if it had one at all. Pretending to be concentrating on his work Neal brought his lips near her ear.
"Please, Hsing, help me." Neal whispered in her ear as he continued to paint the thin branch. "You know Liao is going to kill me."
"I do." Hsing admitted sadly.
"A thirty second phone call could stop all of this."
"I am sorry, Caffrey-san, there is nothing I can do."
"I know you don't belong with these dangerous men. I know you're scared. Go to the F.B.I, ask for Special Agent Peter Burke. He'll protect you, I swear."
"You misunderstand. I can not seek your friend...I am as much a prisoner here as you are."