Prey - Chapter Five
Link here for beginning of story.
Chapter Five
It was Monday and Shang had to leave for work at seven o’clock in the morning. He leaned over the bed, where she still lay half-asleep, and tenderly pecked her on the cheek. It was very much like old times, in more ways than one.
As he left the room and she listened to the sound of the front door opening and closing, a familiar ache tugged at her heart. Even back in Hong Kong she had wanted more from him. She really did want to get married. But he didn’t. Although he acted as if he were her husband in certain ways, something always held him back; her secretiveness, as she discovered over the weekend.
Wide awake now, she flipped over onto her back and stared up at the ceiling somberly. She was beginning to consider that staying with Shang was the worst possible choice she could have made. In addition, she felt apprehensive about sharing as much as she had with him, especially when he’d brought his policeman friend in on everything.
“Which reminds me,” she spoke aloud. “He must be outside, watching the house.”
Mulan brooded, tossing and turning on the bed, unable to fall back asleep. She still hadn’t read the papers that she’d retrieved from the safe deposit box since she’d been unable to find a private place to read all weekend.
She got out of bed and pulled on the shirt that Shang had loaned her the day before. Even though she had her things now, she loved the way his shirt smelled and wanted to keep wearing it.
Her bag was stowed in a corner in the closet, zipped up and locked with a small combination lock. She turned the light on and knelt on the floor, unlocking and opening the bag. Paranoid that somehow Officer Lee might watch her through the window she grabbed the bag and scooted down as she headed toward the bathroom to take a shower. After towel drying her hair and dressing quickly, she grabbed her bag and left the house. Officer Lee’s car wasn’t in sight; perhaps his partner had taken over the surveillance.
Well, she was just going to the library anyway. If he wanted to follow her there, she didn’t care. First she would make a copy of the papers in her bag and stow one away. Then she would read the other copy in a private spot in the library. If one of the officers came in and took it she would still have the other copy to read. And if necessary and depending on what was in them, she would send a copy to the newspapers.
*******
Tucked away in a closed off, private cubby in the library Mulan spread the papers on the desk in front of her and began to rifle through pages filled with schedules of numbers, with columns indicating income and expenses and other finance-related things. It occurred to her that these were accounting records. Unfortunately Fei-pu knew more about the numbers than she did, but never had a chance to explain them. Already possessed with suspicions about Mr. Luo, she deduced that these numbers were associated with something illegal, perhaps evidence of a second set of books that weren’t shown to their auditors or the IRS; particularly since the police were involved and Fei-pu had been shot, no doubt over the theft of these papers.
That was another thing that she considered in this moment. Fei-pu’s murder had been very, very sloppy. A professional hit-man would have killed him instantly, with just one bullet. But Fei-pu managed to live long enough after he was shot to stagger into the park, bleeding on an envelope that he then passed to the Mexican, and he had enough breath to convey the message that a woman was waiting on the other side of the park for him.
What was that all about?
The police would know that this wasn’t the work of a pro; if she could figure it out, they certainly would. At least she hoped so.
She sensed a shadow behind her and shuffled the papers together, then reached for one of the books that she’d pulled off the shelf as a prop. Quickly opening it, she began to read the page that she’d landed on, going through the motion so it would appear convincing to whoever might be watching. After a minute she raised her head and glanced around her. No one was there.
Thumbing through the rest of the pages of ledgers, she stopped on the very last page, which was a handwritten note on a piece of lined paper. It was a draft cover letter to the newspapers, enclosing copies of the file and summarizing the contents. At the end was a list of newspapers in San Francisco and the surrounding area. Her suspicion about a second set of books was confirmed.
So that was Fei-pu’s idea, too; to send this to the papers in the event that corrupt police got hold of it. She folded the letter up and put it in her pocket. The letter was only a sample, in his handwriting; she would need to type it up. After counting and re-counting the number of newspapers on his list, she made extra copies of the file, one for each publication on the list and one to send to her aunt. In the event that anything happened to her, she wanted Aunt Qiu-yue to know why.
Shoving everything into her bag and locking it up, she left the library, glancing to the right and left for signs of someone watching her as she exited. The area was busy today, since it was a weekday. She made it her business to walk into the thick of the lunch crowd along Market Street and headed toward the post office to buy stamps and envelopes. The sooner she mailed these out, the better.
Now she just had to find a place to type up the letters. She didn’t want to risk writing them; someone might recognize her handwriting. These were to be sent anonymously.
*******
“Shang, what made you decide to move out of Chinatown?” she asked him as they ate dinner together that night.
He shrugged. “I wanted a larger place. And I always liked this neighborhood.”
“It’s one of the nicer neighborhoods in the city.”
“That’s why I moved here.”
“Is it very much more expensive?”
“Not as much as I expected. It’s worth it to me anyway. Look at the view I have.” With a sweep of his arm he gestured to the window as he said that.
“The view is gorgeous,” she agreed.
They both fell silent again, eating the noodle and dumpling soup he’d brought home.
“You never told me what you did today,” he reminded her as he set his empty bowl aside.
She bit back the impulse to ask him why his cop friend didn’t tell him where she went and what she did.
“I went to the library.” When one was required to lie it was always a good idea to tell part of the truth. Mixing truth with lies made the lie more believable.
“The library? For what?”
Mulan looked at him quizzically. “To read. What do you think?”
“Oh. What did you read?”
“One of the bestsellers from last year. Jailbird.”
“Kurt Vonnegut.”
“Yes.”
“Did you finish it?”
“No. I’ll go back tomorrow and finish it. I know where I left off.”
“Why didn’t you check it out? They let you borrow books for at least a week.”
She shrugged. “I didn’t want to.”
Looking away from him, she concentrated on eating her soup. He was watching her, but she ignored him for now. When she set her bowl aside, he reached over and placed his hand over hers.
“What?” she asked, looking up.
“I wish I could reassure you.”
Sadness filled her chest and she knew she ought to suggest that staying in his house was a bad idea, that she should find a hotel. But her body ached for his touch and she needed to be with him. She couldn’t leave.
*******
She used to wear her hair in braids, sometimes a single thick plait in back and other times in two braids, one on each side of her head. Every morning her mother would comb her long hair out and weave it for her. Mulan wore her braids with pride.
Five men came one day and ransacked their house, taking their finest clothing, other expensive things that her parents owned as well as many of her finely crafted dolls and toys. Instead of keeping those things, which they might have made money off of, they merely threw everything into a pile in the yard in back of the house and set it on fire.
One of the men seized her by her long braid and she screamed. He took a knife, sliced off the braid and tossed it into the fire. She cried as she watched the flames lick and consume the plait along with the rest of their things. The man shouted at her, something about an Imperialist hairstyle. The flames spread toward her and she screamed.
Mulan woke abruptly from the throes of her nightmare, becoming aware that she was moaning out loud and Shang was hovering above her, a gentle hand on her shoulder. She began to cry despite his attempts to soothe her and spent the next fifteen minutes huddled against him with her face buried in his chest. He remained silent as he held her and stroked her hair.
Now they lay curled together like two spoons, his arms wrapped securely around her, and they talked quietly.
She sighed. “I’ve always assumed that my parents were killed. But Aunt Qiu-yue told me that people like my father…wealthy, intellectual…were sent to work in the fields out in the country, to live among the farmers and peasants. And their families, too. He and my mother may have been sent away…to different places, of course. Families were always split up.”
“You said your father was a professor?”
“Yes. He was the son of a general and inherited land and wealth from his father. Instead of a military career my father pursued an academic career. He was a double threat.”
“Mm. What was your nightmare about?”
“One day men came into our house and took our belongings. It was about that. They piled everything up out in the yard and set it on fire. They took my favorite dolls and toys and burned those too. And one of them cut my braid off and threw that into the fire. They didn’t care that I was crying. My aunt says that many of the people who lived nearby watched. She said they had less than us and cheered when they saw our things being taken away and destroyed. But she thought that maybe it was a show for those guards, to make them think they sympathized…so they wouldn’t be targeted next. Everyone had to be careful of appearances. I was very young when it happened. I haven’t thought about that day since…I don’t know why I suddenly had a dream about it.”
He kissed the back of her shoulder tenderly. “I’m sorry that happened to you. And I apologize for the way I’ve behaved. Mulan, I can’t begin to describe how happy I was to see you again that day…”
“And I to see you,” she murmured.
Shang squeezed her. “And I was just worried because you looked so scared. I’m afraid I set all of this into motion…I never meant to do that. If I had known about your past…I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
“But…you’re being protected, by professionals. And I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
Mulan sighed and closed her eyes, settling back against his body.
“I’m alright now. You have to get up early. I should let you get to sleep.”
“It’s no problem. Besides, you need sleep too. Will you be alright?”
“I’ll be fine. Goodnight, Shang.”
He kissed her shoulder tenderly again, then tightened his embrace once more. “Everything will be alright, Mulan.”
She smiled lightly, feeling warm and secure in his arms. Just the way he said her name in that moment comforted her and she felt a little bit safer.
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