Patient and Subtle
Jul 3, 2016 16:43:49 GMT -6
The Polar Phantasm, Alex Richards, and 1 more like this
Post by Bonnie Blue on Jul 3, 2016 16:43:49 GMT -6
The streets of Chicago's Chinatown were thick with the cloying odor of decay. Trash piled up in the roads and rotted under the summer sun; an "oversight" by the new mayoral administration, certain to be cleared up in due time -- meaning, of course, whenever City Hall started getting kickbacks again. The new mayor didn't seem to understand that they were all playing by different rules now. Or maybe he was incompetent, or maybe he just didn't care. Holding a lightly perfumed, white silk handkerchief to his nose, the slender Chinese man decided to save his speculations for another time and hastened on his way. It wouldn't do to keep Mistress Chao waiting.
A quick look around to make sure nobody was watching, and he turned down a narrow alley between a laundry and an Asian bodega that hosted a Pai Gao game out of the basement on weekends. The alley ended in a brick wall with a flat iron door set into it. Tucking his handkerchief back into the breast pocket of his impeccably tailored suit, he raised one gloved hand to bang on the door with his palm. Moments later, a small Judas door slid open and a pair of eyes glared balefully at him.
He spoke a single word: "Bo" -- wave, in English -- and stepped back at the sound of falling tumblers as half a dozen locks were disengaged; the door swung outward to admit him. Clutching the brown leather briefcase to his chest, he squeezed past the man, who took up three quarters of the entranceway, and proceeded down a long corridor lit by only a single, flickering electric light. His shadow danced eerily across the motheaten rug as he made his way along in the semi-dark, and at last, reached the single elevator that serviced the upper floors, grille gaping open in ominous welcome.
Ten floors up, the rattling cage shuddered to a stop and let him out into what seemed another world. He slipped out of his Italian loafers and set them neatly aside as he stepped from the lift and allowed himself a brief hedonistic joy as the thick, plush fibers of a handmade Persian carpet embraced his feet. Antique Chinese bronzes and porcelain older than the Ming dynasty were displayed on plinths around the foyer. He had just stopped to examine a Heian horse figure, when the the door in front of him opened, and a woman stepped out.
Of average build and delicate-featured, she wore a red cheongsam with a dragonfly motif and black shoes that gave her another inch or so in height; her hair was swept back into a tight bun secured by crimson hairsticks. A polite smile turned her lips up as she gestured him inside, then shut the door behind him.
"Mr. Xing," she greeted, inclining her head toward him.
He, in turn, bowed deferentially at the waist. "Mistress Chao."
"Please sit," she said, gesturing toward one of the cushioned chairs surrounding a polished wooden conference table.
Obediently, Ped Xing took a seat, placing the briefcase and his fedora on the table in front of him. With his right forefinger, he pushed his round, wire-framed glasses back up to the bridge of his nose. Chao Min walked around the table, trailing perfectly manicured carnelian nails along the surface as she went. At last, she seated herself at the head of the table and gave him a direct, expectant gaze.
"I trust you have found the answers we are looking for, Mr. Xing?"
It was more statement than question. One simply did not disappoint the acting head of the Bai Fu Triad. His lips formed a thin smile that might have been taken as a nervous gesture by the unwary. Chao Min knew better. Ped Xing was as dangerous an assassin as she had ever known, perhaps even more dangerous than his brother, Run Run -- who had, indeed, been named after one of the Shaw Brothers, and was rather proud of it. It was too bad, she reflected, that he had been lost during the wave. But if one of the two had to survive, better it was Ped. Though younger and less experienced, he had begun to develop new talents as he followed in his brother's footsteps, and she found herself using his investigative skills more often than his lethal ones. After all, anyone could pull a trigger; it took a rare insight to find solid answers in the most nebulous clues.
For reply, Ped Xing popped open the briefcase and withdrew a file, never once removing the thin leather driving gloves he wore. He opened the cover and slid it across the table to her. A glossy, black and white photograph of a twenty-something blonde stared up at her -- an image taken from the security footage in the area where the truck had been hit by unknown assailants. Min recognized the girl, though she wasn't certain how.
"Bonnie Blue." Ever faithful, Ped supplied the name. "She works for one of the bigger fight cartels, uptown. Member of the Guardians organization. The others are her known associates." He ticked them off on his fingers as he named them. "Cameron Bankston, Jr. -- AKA the Polar Phantasm. Married to Crystal Bankston -- Nightmare. James Megaron -- Jay Omega. Alex Richards."
He hesitated as she sorted through the photographs. Mistress Chao stopped at the last one and gave him a puzled frown. Ped nodded.
"Nikola Tesla," he confirmed. "But none of them fit the description of her partner in this particular theft. I have come to the conclusion that she was enlisted as outside help by an as-yet unknown party. None of the major players, though. Not the Russians, the Irish, the Blacks. There are rumors about an independent operator, but nothing I can substantiate yet."
Chao Min laid the photos back in the file and closed the cover with supreme casualness, and rose fluidly from the table. "In that case, Mr. Xing, I shall need you to bring me the girl."
His tongue darted out to moisten his lips. "In... what condition?"
Min put a finger to her lips as she considered. Mr. Xing's proclivities were not unknown to her, and while she would prefer to let him have his way, this girl would have to serve as a public example.
"Fair," she said, at last. "Do what you must to subdue her -- and no more. She has information I will need. However, if she proves unwilling to answer my questions..."
Ped Xing bowed his head in acceptance. "How soon do you want her?"
"At your convenience, Mr. Xing," she told him. "Haste now won't return what was stolen. We must be patient and subtle."
"Patient and subtle," Xing murmured, adjusting his glasses again. With a small smile, he rose from the table, closing the briefcase once more. "I can do that, Mistress Chao."
A quick look around to make sure nobody was watching, and he turned down a narrow alley between a laundry and an Asian bodega that hosted a Pai Gao game out of the basement on weekends. The alley ended in a brick wall with a flat iron door set into it. Tucking his handkerchief back into the breast pocket of his impeccably tailored suit, he raised one gloved hand to bang on the door with his palm. Moments later, a small Judas door slid open and a pair of eyes glared balefully at him.
He spoke a single word: "Bo" -- wave, in English -- and stepped back at the sound of falling tumblers as half a dozen locks were disengaged; the door swung outward to admit him. Clutching the brown leather briefcase to his chest, he squeezed past the man, who took up three quarters of the entranceway, and proceeded down a long corridor lit by only a single, flickering electric light. His shadow danced eerily across the motheaten rug as he made his way along in the semi-dark, and at last, reached the single elevator that serviced the upper floors, grille gaping open in ominous welcome.
Ten floors up, the rattling cage shuddered to a stop and let him out into what seemed another world. He slipped out of his Italian loafers and set them neatly aside as he stepped from the lift and allowed himself a brief hedonistic joy as the thick, plush fibers of a handmade Persian carpet embraced his feet. Antique Chinese bronzes and porcelain older than the Ming dynasty were displayed on plinths around the foyer. He had just stopped to examine a Heian horse figure, when the the door in front of him opened, and a woman stepped out.
Of average build and delicate-featured, she wore a red cheongsam with a dragonfly motif and black shoes that gave her another inch or so in height; her hair was swept back into a tight bun secured by crimson hairsticks. A polite smile turned her lips up as she gestured him inside, then shut the door behind him.
"Mr. Xing," she greeted, inclining her head toward him.
He, in turn, bowed deferentially at the waist. "Mistress Chao."
"Please sit," she said, gesturing toward one of the cushioned chairs surrounding a polished wooden conference table.
Obediently, Ped Xing took a seat, placing the briefcase and his fedora on the table in front of him. With his right forefinger, he pushed his round, wire-framed glasses back up to the bridge of his nose. Chao Min walked around the table, trailing perfectly manicured carnelian nails along the surface as she went. At last, she seated herself at the head of the table and gave him a direct, expectant gaze.
"I trust you have found the answers we are looking for, Mr. Xing?"
It was more statement than question. One simply did not disappoint the acting head of the Bai Fu Triad. His lips formed a thin smile that might have been taken as a nervous gesture by the unwary. Chao Min knew better. Ped Xing was as dangerous an assassin as she had ever known, perhaps even more dangerous than his brother, Run Run -- who had, indeed, been named after one of the Shaw Brothers, and was rather proud of it. It was too bad, she reflected, that he had been lost during the wave. But if one of the two had to survive, better it was Ped. Though younger and less experienced, he had begun to develop new talents as he followed in his brother's footsteps, and she found herself using his investigative skills more often than his lethal ones. After all, anyone could pull a trigger; it took a rare insight to find solid answers in the most nebulous clues.
For reply, Ped Xing popped open the briefcase and withdrew a file, never once removing the thin leather driving gloves he wore. He opened the cover and slid it across the table to her. A glossy, black and white photograph of a twenty-something blonde stared up at her -- an image taken from the security footage in the area where the truck had been hit by unknown assailants. Min recognized the girl, though she wasn't certain how.
"Bonnie Blue." Ever faithful, Ped supplied the name. "She works for one of the bigger fight cartels, uptown. Member of the Guardians organization. The others are her known associates." He ticked them off on his fingers as he named them. "Cameron Bankston, Jr. -- AKA the Polar Phantasm. Married to Crystal Bankston -- Nightmare. James Megaron -- Jay Omega. Alex Richards."
He hesitated as she sorted through the photographs. Mistress Chao stopped at the last one and gave him a puzled frown. Ped nodded.
"Nikola Tesla," he confirmed. "But none of them fit the description of her partner in this particular theft. I have come to the conclusion that she was enlisted as outside help by an as-yet unknown party. None of the major players, though. Not the Russians, the Irish, the Blacks. There are rumors about an independent operator, but nothing I can substantiate yet."
Chao Min laid the photos back in the file and closed the cover with supreme casualness, and rose fluidly from the table. "In that case, Mr. Xing, I shall need you to bring me the girl."
His tongue darted out to moisten his lips. "In... what condition?"
Min put a finger to her lips as she considered. Mr. Xing's proclivities were not unknown to her, and while she would prefer to let him have his way, this girl would have to serve as a public example.
"Fair," she said, at last. "Do what you must to subdue her -- and no more. She has information I will need. However, if she proves unwilling to answer my questions..."
Ped Xing bowed his head in acceptance. "How soon do you want her?"
"At your convenience, Mr. Xing," she told him. "Haste now won't return what was stolen. We must be patient and subtle."
"Patient and subtle," Xing murmured, adjusting his glasses again. With a small smile, he rose from the table, closing the briefcase once more. "I can do that, Mistress Chao."
