Chapter Thirteen
Mr. and Mrs. Zi were out at a party that night. The mansion was lightless and motionless except in the servant quarters. It was still early. The guards didn't start their night patrol yet. They gathered in the guardhouse just inside the gate, playing cards. Three shadows jumped from trees outside, gliding in the air like hawks over the wall that flanked the mansion, and landed on top of the trees in the garden. They slid down the tree trunks and stole under the cover of darkness toward the mansion. Two shadows hid behind the shrubs and one shadow furtively approached a first floor window on the side of the mansion. The window was pried open and the shadow slipped in. It happened to be the guest reception room. A tiny pocket penlight was turned on. The shadow moved to the door. The door was opened. A head thrust out to look around. When the coast was clear, the shadow stepped into the corridor, shutting the door. The shadow walked on tiptoe through the corridors, seemingly perplexed at first where to go, then made two turns, opened a door, slipped inside, and closed the door. It was Mr. Zi's study.
“It's time to begin our patrol,” one of the guards said. Two guards stood up and left the guardhouse. They took two dogs from a kennel and put them on a leash. The garden was very big. When they neared the mansion on one side, the dogs rushed forward, dragging the guards along and barked at the bushes. Next moment, two flashes came from behind the bushes and struck the dogs on their Sleep Xues. The dogs fell asleep. One of the guards blew a whistle, which sounded shrill and loud in the quiet night. People scurried out from the servants’ quarters only to find the two guards standing there motionless and speechless like two stone statues, as if they had seen the face of the snake-haired Medusa. People began to search the ground and more dogs were released from the kennels.
The shadow in the study stood before a glass case in which there were five ginsengs; an Arabic scimitar, inset on its hilt were rubies, sapphires and emeralds, a small piece of card before the scimitar bearing these words: “It was found among the treasures in the cave of Ali Baba.” There were a pair of small pistols with ivory handles, the caption on the card saying, “They are said to be used by the Count of Mount Cristo”; and gold figurines of ancient beauties, jade vases of Ming Dynasty styles, a crystal ball seemingly having been used by a gypsy fortune teller and other antiques. One of the ginsengs looked the oldest. It was said that ginsengs of a millennium would look like a human shape. If a ginseng was over five hundred years old, a human face could be discerned at one end, though in a wry, crude manner. The glass case had a weird lock with no numbers and no keyhole on it. A special laser-beam key could open it. The shadow searched all the desk drawers and could not find anything resembling such a key. All at once the shadow heard dogs barking and whistles sounding outside. Hurry. No time to lose now.
Three more dogs dashed to the bushes on the side of the mansion, but a while later were lying asleep on the ground. People began to shoot at the bushes. But a rain of small fragments of stones flew out from behind the bushes, much denser than the bullets, which were diverted wide from the targets when colliding with the fragments darting straight over sent by chi. When the gunmen saw the rain of the stone fragments coming, they had to cease firing, recede, and dodge to protect themselves. Then two shadows jumped out from behind the shrubs, made somersaults high in the air and dropped among these people before they could shoot again. In hand-to-hand combat, guns were futile. All these people had kungfu taught by Master Zi himself, though they were still on low levels. They attacked the two shadows from all directions. The two silhouettes stood back to back, defending themselves by using chi. People formed a circle around the two intruders. They drew out swords. There were eight of them. The swords came at the same time towards the head, chest, belly and thigh of each of the intruders. One of the intruders drew out a long whip and whirled it around in circles like someone blowing out cigarette smoke in spiral rings, parrying away the four swords. The other intruder gave a flip with the middle finger of the right hand at the flat side of the sword blade thrusting at the head, the sword bounced back, the man had to leap backwards, or the sword would cut him. The intruder flipped at the flat side of the blade coming to the chest with the middle finger of the left hand, achieving the same result. The intruder kicked up the left foot at the blade aiming at the thigh, sending the blade sideways to hit the other blade that jabbed to the belly. All the actions were performed simultaneously, aided by chi. Then the eight people closed in for the second round. Instead of thrusting, they brought their weapons down to the head, the shoulders and the chest. The intruder with the long whip jerked the whip in a circular move, aiming at the legs of the attacking people. The other intruder crouched out of the way of the whip. The whip was much longer than the swords. So the situation was that before their weapons could reach the intruders, they would be struck on the legs by the whip. From the ferocious sound of the circling whip whistling through the air, they knew that the strength of it would not only bring them down on the ground, but would also break their shin bones. They had to beat a retreat. One guy jumped back a bit slow and was hit on the shin by the tip of the whip and a sharp pain went up through his leg. He fell on the ground. Two people came forward and carried him into the mansion for some medical care while the two intruders only stood there watching. Another guy filled in the place. The eight people began their third round of assault.
The shadow in the study grew impatient and took out a plastic explosive device, attaching it to the lock. After a low “bang”, the lock was destroyed. The shadow opened the glass case door, took the ginseng that looked the oldest and slipped it into a pocket. The phantom opened a window of the study and jumped out.
A limo rolled to a halt and Mr. Zi got out, then it went to the front of the mansion to let Mrs. Zi out. She walked into the mansion and went to her room. She didn't want to know what was going on outside. She knew the idiom “curiosity killed the cat.”
Mr. Zi stood aside, watching the combat. His people were really no good against these two apparitions, who were not fighting, but really playing with the guys, like a cat playing with a mouse. From the kungfu performance of the two shadows, Mr. Zi knew that they could have easily injured the guys in the first few rounds. He shouted, “Stop!” Everyone ceased fighting. The other shadows turned around, both facing the master.
“Who are you, trespassing upon my domain?” Mr. Zi demanded to know.
Silence. The shadows were both covered in black, only their sparkling eyes could be seen.
“Good,” Mr. Zi said. “If you can escape from me, I'll let you go.”
His people knew that the master would fight the two shadows himself. So they all dispersed to a safe distance.
Mr. Zi raised his right hand, emitting his chi. The two shadows, each holding out a hand, sent out chi, too. Three blasts impacted. The master stood his ground, but the two shadows fell back two steps. Mr. Zi walked closer and the three fought hand-to-hand. Every time Mr. Zi struck, the two shadows could not defend themselves because his strikes were much stronger than they could fend off. So they had to adopt the strategy of shunning and ducking. At this critical moment, a third shadow appeared, joining in the combat. Now at three to one, Mr. Zi had no advantage at all. His people participated, too. At a gesture from the third shadow, the three of them held out both their hands, issuing chi. Mr. Zi was caught by surprise, retreating two steps. The three shadows turned to escape. Two of his people came forward to block their way but were hit and sent flying into the bushes four meters away. Two of the shadows were much quicker. They leapt over the bushes. Another shadow was a bit slow. Mr. Zi cast out something, which spread out. It was a net. The last shadow was caught in the net. The other two shadows were unaware of this. They jumped into the treetops, treading on the foliage towards the wall. The boughs were only lowered a little under their feet. They seemed to flit by so nimbly and lightly like butterflies that not much weight pressed on the leaves during the one-tenth of a second the foot touched on them.
His people wanted to chase the other two shadows, but Mr. Zi stopped them from the pursuit. He had gotten one already.
***
“Yummy, I like fried wonton,” Alida cried merrily at her breakfast.
“Eat fast. Time for school now, or you'll be late,” Mrs. Lin urged.
“There's plenty of time yet,” Alida retorted. “And this is not a fast-food restaurant.”
“I'm surprised that you can always find something to say in contradiction,” Mrs. Lin said, half like reprimanding, half like eulogizing, a doting habit of hers. Alida finished her breakfast in a few quick swallows. Then Mrs. Lin walked her to school.
Lois and Tricia came down after their mother and Alida left, but their father was sitting at the breakfast table. Lois used the phone in the living room to call the company where Sally was working under a pseudo name. “This is Sally's sister. Sally's sick and can't come to work today.”
“Sorry to hear that. Hope she'll be better soon.” It was the supervisor at the other end of the line.
“What's wrong with Sally?” Their father was worried. Lois had to tell her father the whole story.
Tricia said, “I hope they won't torment her, though I believe they won't kill her.”
“From now on, if you want to do anything against a master, any master, consult me first, remember.” their father warned seriously. They nodded their obedience. The phone rang in the living room and Tricia went to answer it.
“May I speak to Mr. Lin? I think it's your father,” an old male voice said from the other end.
“May I know who's calling?” Tricia asked politely, a bit nervous, pushing her hair away from her right eye.
“This is John Zi,” the voice boomed.
The name struck Tricia with alarm. “Will you hold on for a moment, please?” Tricia held the receiver high up in the air, crying, “Dad, it's for you.”
Mr. Lin came to the living room to take the phone from Tricia's hand. She mouthed the name of John Zi to him.
“Hello, this is Robert Lin. How can I help you, Mr. Zi?” He used a neutral voice.
“Bring the ginseng for the exchange of your daughter. Right now.” The voice sounded infuriated.
“Good. I’ll come over right now.”
The three of them got into Lois's Mitsubishi, leaving a note on the table for Mrs. Lin.
***
Mr. Lin was shown to the back of the mansion, followed by Lois and Tricia. There were two rattan tables on the well-manicured lawn, three meters apart, each with a rattan armchair at its side. Mr. Zi was already in one of the armchairs. Sally stood a few yards away on the side of the lawn surrounded by his men, looking like nothing on her body was missing: limbs, nose, eyes, ears, all there. She even smiled at the three newcomers, chewing her habitual gum. Mr. Zi asked Mr. Lin to sit down on the other armchair. Lois and Tricia stood behind their father. A manservant brought out a tray on which were a teapot and two cups. He put it down on Mr. Zi's table, filled the cups with tea and then withdrew into the mansion. Mr. Zi took up a cup, and using his chi, he sent the cup of tea flying slowly across the air towards Mr. Lin's table. This was a habit usually seen in the kungfu world to show one's kungfu. When the cup neared, Mr. Lin raised his hand to accept the cup, using his chi, too. If he accepted the cup with his bare hand, the chi around the cup would hurt him. Now he let the cup down slowly onto his table without any tea being spilt.
“I feel sorry that I have to invite you to my humble abode for such a trifling thing.” Mr. Zi struck up the conversation.
“It should be me apologizing for my daughters' misbehavior. They came without my knowledge. If I had known, I would have restrained them.” So saying, he produced from his pocket the ginseng Lois had stolen the night before. He laid it on the table. “I feel really sorry,” he added.
“I am not a miser as you may know,” Mr. Zi declared. “I like to make friends, new friends. If you acknowledge to be my friend, you can take the ginseng, though such a ginseng is a rarity.”
“No matter whether you give me the ginseng or not, I can be your friend. If you give me the ginseng, I owe you a favor and I will repay it any time you need, but only within the law.”
“You can be at rest. I never do anything against the law,” Mr. Zi assured him, grinning with a tooth encased in gold. “Since your daughters are so advanced in kungfu, I think you should be a master yourself. I'd like to practice a few rounds with you, what do you say?”
“No problem. That's common among friends.” Mr. Lin could not decline since they had declared their friendship and kungfu friends often practiced together.
The two masters stationed themselves in the center of the lawn, facing each other at a distance. They greeted each other in a traditional way before commencing the friendly competition: both hands raised in front of the chest with the right hand wrapping round the left fist; both men saying, “Please!” Mr. Zi drew a deep breath and slowly pushed out his hands with chi. Mr. Lin followed suit. When their chi conflicted, Mr. Lin pretended to back half a step. He wanted Mr. Zi to have the impression that he was no match for him, a way to show modesty and sometimes, also to hide the real kungfu, especially when you were dealing with a potential foe.
Mr. Zi paced forward, thrusting the forefinger and middle finger together at a xue on Mr. Lin's chest. Mr. Lin turned his chest halfway and extended the same two fingers of his right hand at Mr. Zi's wrist pulse. Mr. Zi drew back his right hand and axed the edge of his left hand at Mr. Lin's right shoulder. Mr. Lin wiped his right hand the other way and brushed off Mr. Zi's left hand. Their moves became faster and faster, stirring the air around them into a wind that spectators within four meters could feel. They all withdrew further away. Sally already got together with her two sisters. Now the actions of the masters were so fast that the onlookers could not tell who was who and how many rounds the two masters had completed. They could only vaguely behold two shadows, now mingling, now a little apart, then mingling again. It was a good half-hour before the two figures separated. Each stood where he had been before as if nothing had happened. Neither was panting. Neither had perspiration on the face. Even the grass of the lawn under their feet showed no sign of treading. They resumed their seats, exchanging some polite modest words.
“Since you are so kind to give me the ginseng, if I don't take it, it will be deemed that I don't look upon you as my friend,” Mr. Lin remarked. “So I just say 'thank you' and owe you a big favor. We have disturbed you long enough. We must leave now.”
“You are welcome. I won't detain you any longer.” Mr. Zi shook hands with Mr. Lin and walked him and his daughters to their car. They waved good-bye.
Mr. Zi went into the mansion and met his personal secretary, Helen, in his study. “What's your opinion of Mr. Lin?” he asked her, knowing she had been peeking from the window of a back room.
“He's a master. You'll be lucky if he can really be your friend, but...” she trailed off and Mr. Zi knew what she left unsaid.
***
Once at home, Sally told them about her experience last night.
When Sally was caught in the net, she was aware that her escape was out of the question. Mr. Zi pulled back the net and the hood on her head was pulled off, exposing her true identity. Mr. Zi pricked her Nonfunction Xue so that she could not use her chi and hence could not fight, though she could yet move her limbs and her other organs like a normal person. Then she was escorted into the mansion, to Mr. Zi's study. Mr. Zi saw that the glass case was open and the oldest ginseng was missing. After careful scrutiny, he knew an explosive had broken the lock, the force of which was just enough to break the lock and nothing else. And nothing else was missing, either. So Mr. Zi guessed what the matter was.
He motioned Sally to sit down on a chair in front of his desk. He seated himself in the swivel chair behind it. But before Mr. Zi could utter a single syllable, Sally asked, “May I have a gum?” Mr. Zi looked suspicious, not realizing what she meant. Sally just took out a gum from a pocket on her catsuit. Peeling the wrapping, she put it into her mouth. Mr. Zi couldn’t help smiling at her and shook his head. Then he said, “I can be sure that you came with Lois Lin. She escaped with another girl and left you behind.” Mr. Zi fixed his eyes on Sally's face.
“If you are so sure, you don't need to talk to me anymore,” Sally said serenely, her mouth chewing the Doublemint at a deliberate speed.
“I just want to let you know that I know everything. But may I have your name, Miss?”
“Sally Lin.” Sally thought that it was unnecessary to conceal her name since he already guessed that she had come with Lois.
“How can you have the same family name as Lois when you don't look like her sister?”
“I was adopted by her parents. We are sisters. But I think you know everything,” Sally said sardonically, tilting her head, eyeing Mr. Zi. She put the wad of the gum on the tip of her tongue and blew out a big bubble before her face.
Mr. Zi just smiled. “It's so late now. You can be my guest for the night and I'll call your father tomorrow morning. May I have your father's name and phone number?”
Sally had to give the information, afraid that he would torment her if she refused. Now Mom will be angry. Sorry, Mom. But that's not my fault. She had come with Lois, Mom's biological daughter.
Mr. Zi undid the effect on Sally's xue and ordered a maid to take Sally to a guest bedroom.
***
“You are lucky, Mr. Chen. A friend of mine just came from China and gave me some ginseng, though not very old. My wife made them into pills together with other herbs. It will be helpful to your rehabilitation. One pill a day.” Mr. Lin gave the pills to Mrs. Chen with the instructions. Both Mr. and Mrs. Chen thanked him abundantly. Then Mr. Lin started the routine procedures of his treatment with Mr. Chen. Mr. Chen was only paralyzed in his legs. The jammed xue was on the spine of his lower back, more specifically, at the waist. Mr. Chen was assisted to sit cross-legged on his queen-size bed, which was of a Chinese style with a headboard, a footboard and four posts, all of redwood, and a gauze canopy enveloping the bed, one side hooked up onto the posts. Mr. Lin took off his shoes, got onto the bed and also sat cross-legged behind Mr. Chen. He placed his right palm on top of Mr. Chen's head and his left palm on his waist, gradually instilling his chi into Mr. Chen's body. Mr. Chen maneuvered his chi aided by Mr. Lin's chi to the jammed xue, hoping to break through it little by little like in a traffic jam, the cars moving away one by one. He was now utterly confident that he would get up on his feet again before long.
***
Sam had an instinctive feeling that Lois was avoiding him recently. But why? He presumed that he could not ask her directly why. Emotions were delicate and subtle. Sometimes you can only feel it and cannot bring it into the light. If I directly ask her why, and she puts up a question instead of an answer--”Why should I avoid you?”--it will be very embarrassing and awkward. We are just friends. We haven't manifested as boyfriend and girlfriend. Maybe, Lois likes a boyfriend who has kungfu. But I am really too busy to learn. Anyway, Tricia promised to teach me kungfu little by little when we both can squeeze in time. Tricia! Yes, she is also a nice girl, but… He shut his eyes, torn between ideality and reality. “OK, let the thing take its own course,” as my mother frequently said. He was preoccupied enough with all the cases on his mind. He suddenly felt hot though it was already fall. His scalp was itching. He shrugged off his jacket, letting it drop on the chair behind his desk. He walked to and fro in his office restlessly, his mind toiling hard, but no one knew whether it was on the difficulties of his cases or his problems with girlfriends.
***
Tricia went to Newark to do some sleuthing for Sam. When the work was done, it was almost lunchtime. She parked her car at a meter and went into a food store nearby to grab a sandwich and a diet Coke. As she came out, having finished her lunch, she suddenly noticed a car parked at the curb that resembled the one belonging to Frank--same make, same color. She looked attentively at the plate number; yes, it was Frank's car. There were two cars between his and her car. She waited on the sidewalk, sometimes wandered this way and that, sometimes pretended to look into the shop windows, frequently taming her unruly hair into the place it belonged. If I stayed here long at night, people would think I'm that kind of a girl, but my attire doesn't look like one. Then she thought better of it and got into her car, waiting inside. She watched the traffic, which was not much at the time. She stared into the sky, which was blue with some fleecy clouds dotted here and there. The sun clambered high at the zenith, a perfect day to be with a boyfriend at some scenic spot, having a nice picnic, enjoying life. Sam's image loomed up in her mind's eye. She turned on the radio at 96.3, the New York classic station. A piece of Swan Lake drifted out, then the weather report, saying it would be raining at night. She waited for nearly two hours and Frank never showed up. Then she saw a young man in his early twenties, donning jeans and a T-shirt with the Statue of Liberty printed on the front, crossing the street toward this car. He took out the key and opened the door. It didn't look like he was stealing the car. Tricia started her car and pulled out to follow the man. Ten minutes later, he pulled the car into the driveway of a single house on some side street. Tricia stopped at the curb and got out of her car. When the young man crept out, she accosted him. “Hello, are you a friend of Frank's?”
“Who's fucking Frank? I never know such a person by that fucking name. Or fuck me.” He seemed to smile nervously.
“This is supposed to be my friend Frank's car.” She inclined her head toward the car on which the man was reclining.
“I bought it from some Buddha-dammit guy. I don’t even remember his fucking name.”
“Sorry to bother you.” Tricia got back into her car and drove away.
***
Dinnertime was always the time the sisters traded their information. “I doubt,” said Tricia after her narration of the scenario, “that the man told the truth. Generally when cars change owners, the plate number will be changed, too. The new owner will put another plate on.”
“Well, what do you have in mind?” Lois asked, squinting at her.
“I'll go tonight to check the registration card to see what the name on it is.”
“That's a worthwhile move. I'll go with you. You know, there's strength in numbers,” Lois decided. She wanted to take precautions since she didn't know what was in store for them there.
They took the snooping trip at midnight. It began to rain just as the weather forecast predicted. They drove by Rt. 1 north, then to Garden State Parkway north and exited at Exit 140 onto Rt. 22 east, then to Rt. 21, leading right into Newark. This was the route with the least traffic lights. Although it was night and cloudy, Lois could still see the greenery along the Parkway on either side. She liked nature, liked every beauty Mother Nature provided. She loved to live in the garden state. It just suited her. The environment just fitted its name.
Tricia was driving. When they were exiting onto Rt. 22, the rain came down hard. A while later, it became heavy torrents, beating down angrily on the car roof and windshield, blurring the vision. Tricia had to decelerate and struggle through some pools of water. It took almost an hour to reach their destination, though traffic at that time was scarce. When they got to the address, it was raining terribly. The sky seemed to have big leaks that could never be stopped. They parked the car a few houses away. Tricia got out, wearing a specially made black catsuit with a hood on it, waterproof as well as bulletproof. Every house was dark inside. A rainy night is the best time to sleep. The rhythmical pelting raindrops on the windowpanes are like a lullaby. People who suffer from insomnia do not need to take sleeping pills when they can sink into slumber at the natural pleasing music of a “cats and dogs” concert. Tricia ran to the car parked in the driveway and picked open the passenger door. She fumbled in the glove compartment and found some papers. She took them out, examining them under the roof lamp of the car. She read the name on the registration card. It was Frank Perez. All of a sudden, someone opened the front door and yelled, “Car thief!” Tricia dropped the papers on the passenger seat and sprinted back to her own car, leaving the door of that car ajar, the rain wetting the papers. When the man had dashed out to shut the car door, Tricia had already gotten into the passenger seat. Lois got to the driver's seat when Tricia ran to the house. Now she pulled away from the curb without turning on the lights. At the stop sign, she made a right and then another right. When she was sure no one was following them, she turned the lights on and sped away.
***
When they drove back, they discussed the situation in the car. This was a clue to find Frank's whereabouts. So they decided that Tricia should station herself near the house as often as she could to watch for Frank to appear. Sometimes in the daytime, she would disguise herself as old women of different ages, donning different apparels, putting on different skin-thin plastic masks and wigs of different colors. Sometimes on a fine night, she would jump on the roof, lying there overlooking the front door or the backyard. Her car was parked away at a safe distance. But her endeavors and efforts proved futile. Frank seemed to have just evaporated from the face of the earth or been taken by aliens into the depths of outer space.
***
“I got some information about David Li,” Sally blurted out secretively when they were having breakfast one Sunday morning, “though from the gossip of employees.”
“Are the gossips reliable?” Tricia eyed her in incredulity.
“They are all gossiping experts--or shall I say, professional gossipers?--not amateurs. They've even formed a gossiper club. So at least there's a little bit truth in them. People may exaggerate, but can't make them up out of nothing. There's no billow without the wind, as a Chinese saying goes, or there's no smoke without fire, which is an American idiom.” Sally tried to be persuasive.
“Okay, spill it out,” said Tricia, having a bite of her toast.
“First, he worked in the warehouse as a supervisor.” Sally looked from one sister to the other with an air of self-importance.
“That piece of news is not worth our while to listen to,” said Tricia with some satire.
“Second,” Sally ignored Tricia's derision, “he dated some of the girls in the company.”
“Really big news that should be broadcast on the local TV,” Tricia scoffed.
“The girls boast that he spent money freely, bought them high-priced gifts and brought them to expensive restaurants,” Sally went on along her own rail of thinking.
“What's wrong with that?” Tricia jeered again.
“He spent more than he earned. Where did he get all the money? That's what's wrong.” Sally let her words tumble out triumphantly.
“I remember now,” Lois cut in. “His father told me that after the death of his son, he went through all his son's belongings in his bedroom and found a bank savings book with a large sum in it. The police investigated and found that all deposits were made in cash. That's suspicious.”
“Third,” Sally resumed, “he seemed to have a close relationship with the owner, Mr. Hsu, and often ran private errands for him.”
“Did anyone know what kind of errands David was sent on?” Lois asked.
“Even the girls he dated didn't have any idea. He's a taciturn person, didn't have a giant's mouth. Anyway, I'll dig deeper till I reveal what's concealed in the coffin.”
***
“Is it possible,” Tricia consulted Lois, “that the man who said he bought Frank's car is still using everything in his name, his plate, his insurance?”
“That's against the law,” quipped Lois.
“But the man doesn't look like someone who has much deference for the law.”
“In that case, he and Frank are not mere strangers in the trade. They must have some kind of relationship that Frank allows him to do so.”
“That's what we must find out. Shall I confront him again?”
“In my opinion, he won't tell you anything you are interested in. You only let him know that he is on our list of suspects. As a Chinese saying goes: alerting the snake by beating the bushes.”
“Maybe, I'd better sneak into his house and plant a bug.”
***
An old man, wearing gray khaki pants, a blue and white striped shirt and a light blue jacket, was leaning on a tree under the umbrella of the spreading leaves, his right hand resting on his heart as if he were having a heart attack. He had a mustache and a short beard on his weather-beaten face. He shut his eyes into slits so that no one could tell where he was looking. A middle-aged woman strolled past him, but stopped short, “Are you okay?” she asked with concern. The old man just nodded, not trusting his voice. The woman walked a few paces and turned her head to see if the old man was really okay. The old man let down his hand with his back against the tree trunk, facing the house.
A stout man trotted up and turned to stride on the driveway to the front door. He knocked at the door three times and was soon let in. The old man plodded across the street and got into a car parked a few houses away down the street on the opposite side. He sat in the car, watching the house vigilantly. Half an hour later, the stout man and the man living in the house came out and got into the car in the driveway. The car was backed out and moved down the street, soon it was out of sight.
It was nightfall. The old man crept out of his car and walked swiftly, but stealthily, to the back of the house. He took out a lock pick and opened the back door. He listened for a while to make sure that there was no one in the house, then slipped into it. He came out a few minutes later, looked around to see that there was no one in sight and got back into his car.
He waited and waited, watching the full moon half-hidden behind a bank of thin white clouds with sparkling stars to keep her company. What's the Chinese moon goddess Chang-O doing tonight in her Wide-Cold Palace? Maybe she's playing with her companion, the white rabbit. As the fluffy clouds sailed by, he could see the moon clearly. Is that shadow looking like a rabbit? He could not be sure. It looked like a cinnamon tree. It was said that a god called Wu Gong offended the Heavenly Jade Emperor and was sent to the moon to chop down the cinnamon tree. Once the tree was chopped down, he could go back to Heaven, but whenever he pulled out his ax to bring it down again for the second cleaving, the crevice grew together as if nothing happened. So he could never chop the tree down. But I cannot see Wu Gong. Maybe, he's hidden behind the cinnamon tree.
One hour and twenty minutes elapsed. The two men came back. They went into the house and turned on the TV. The old man turned on his listening device.
“The fucking boss wants us to be more careful since the bitch girls are on to us. They ain't have their reputation for nothing. Buddha-dammit,” one of the men said, cursing under his breath.
“Shit. We shud get rid of them.” It was the other man's voice.
“They are not fucking chestnuts. They are fucking walnuts, hard to crack. Certainly not with the teeth. Besides, we shudn't leave any fucking trace behind like in other two cases. Buddha-dammit.” It was the first one's voice.
“How's Frank now? Fucking him.”
“I dunno. Dun't ask fucking questions you shudn't, if you want to enjoy your fucking life longer. You have a Buddha-dammed mouth big enough to devour the fucking Earth. You son of a whore.” The TV was turned louder, drowning their voices. |
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发表于 2008-9-14 01:55:00