Jade War

CHAPTER 59 From the Kaul Family

Just under five hours later, Wen sat in the back seat of a gray Brock Parade LS sedan outside the Crestwood Hotel in downtown Port Massy. The car was parked in a no-loading zone directly across from the hotel’s main entrance, but the two police officers standing on nearby street corners did not bother them. They were well known to the Dauks as Southtrap beat cops who had reliably taken money for favors before and were sympathetic to the Kekonese, who rarely dealt drugs or committed violent crimes and took care of their own problems when they occurred. One of the cops was half-Kekonese himself. They were being handsomely paid to be the first ones to respond to any report of disturbance—and to look the other way while the gray sedan left the scene in a hurry. They were aware that Zapunyo was staying in the hotel, but what did they care if a foreign jade smuggler known for atrocious human rights violations happened to meet an unfortunate end?

Anden turned in the front passenger seat to look at Wen with concern. “It’s not too late to change our minds,” he insisted. “This is dangerous. Hilo wouldn’t want you involved.”

Wen checked her makeup in a hand mirror, tucking a stray strand of hair back into the knot it had escaped from. “We’ve planned this for too long to walk away now, Anden. The Weather Man agrees and is counting on us.” She smiled at him reassuringly. “Besides, my part is simple.”

From the driver’s seat, Rohn Toro said, “Remember, just hit the ground and stay there. Don’t get up until I say so.” They hadn’t had much time to rehearse, but it would have to do.

Anden said to Rohn, “Thank you for agreeing to do this.”

“Thank me after it’s done and we’re safely away,” Rohn said. “Preferably to somewhere warm and on another continent.” He got out of the car and opened the trunk. Anden and Wen got out as well. Wen was still amazed by Anden’s changed appearance: He sported a short beard that made him look five years older, bold black glasses frames, a suit cut in a trendy style with thin lapels, and a blue-and-white striped tie. He looked the part of a Port Massy urbanite, nothing at all like the earnest Kaul Du Academy student that she’d known him as back in Janloon. Anden fidgeted with his tie. She could tell from his frequent glances at her that he remained unsure about the decision to bring her in, but he was not about to ruin the plan now by disobeying. She only hoped he would quell any signs of unease once they were inside. From the trunk, Rohn Toro took out a professional SLR camera, which he slung around his neck by a leather strap, a camera bag, and a tripod. Wen straightened her skirt, picked up her leather folio, and carefully tucked her capped fountain pen into the breast pocket of her blazer.

Inside the lobby of the Crestwood, they waited in the cushioned seating area near the bar. One of Zapunyo’s guards was supposed to meet them, but Uwiwans were never punctual. After thirty minutes, Wen began to worry. She saw Anden looking at the clock on the wall, anxious with what she suspected were similar thoughts: Zapunyo had backed out of the interview after all and they would be ignored or eventually sent away. She couldn’t decide if her disappointment or her relief was greater. If the smuggler escaped back to the Uwiwa Islands, she would continue to spend every day fearing another attack on the family. On the other hand, she had done all she could. Her husband would never have to know how she’d gone against his wishes. Maybe they would eventually find another way to get to Zapunyo, just as Hilo had promised her.

A man came out of the elevators and walked toward them. Wen had never met a barukan in person before, but this man, dressed ostentatiously in a silk shirt and chunky nephrite rings set in gold, looked every bit the stereotype. Wen wondered, with wry contempt and curiosity, if perhaps it wasn’t the barukan who took their cues from cinema as opposed to the other way around. As he approached, Anden stood up. Wen was relieved that he showed no outward sign of nervousness at all, speaking in confidently articulate, if accented Espenian as he shook the barukan man’s hand, identifying himself as the journalist Ray Caido and introducing Rohn Toro and Wen under false names as his photographer and his assistant.

The man nodded and led the three of them to the bank of elevators. They ascended to the twelfth floor, where the premium suites were located. There was another barukan waiting in the elevator lobby, a younger man. They indicated by spreading their arms that the journalists would be searched before being allowed to proceed further. They patted Anden and Rohn down for weapons and examined Rohn’s camera equipment. The younger barukan man looked uncomfortable as he stood in front of Wen. Shotarians were a prudish people. Wen held her arms out and the man ran his hands down her sides, back, and legs and stepped away. Wen noticed that the green stones hanging around his neck were nephrite but the studs in his ears were jade. He paused for a moment, Perceiving that none of them possessed jade auras before leading them down the hall to the door of the suite at the end. He knocked and they were admitted inside.

Zapunyo was seated in a wide fabric armchair in the center of the suite’s sitting area. Wen was struck by how short he was; he looked almost childlike in the large chair and opulent hotel room. He wore a slightly creased tan linen suit with a folded white pocket square that suggested an attempt at formality. Wen could see the tops of his puffy veined feet bulging from brown loafers. Surprisingly, Wen’s first emotion upon finally seeing him in person was pity, almost sympathy. Zapunyo might be a rich man with an ambitious and dangerous mind, but he was trapped in a frail body. It was not right that such a man should control jade or challenge Green Bones.

Zapunyo’s eldest son stood near the window behind his father’s chair along with another bodyguard, bringing the total number of men to five, three of them barukan.

Anden said in Espenian, “Mr. Zapunyo, thank you for agreeing to this interview. This is a rare opportunity and I feel privileged that you would trust me to share your side of the story. Would you prefer that we have our conversation in Espenian or Kekonese? I can speak either.”

Zapunyo wetted his lips. “My Espenian is not so good. Let’s speak in Kekonese.”

“I promised to take no more than an hour of your time,” Anden said, switching instantly to Kekonese and sitting down in the chair across from the smuggler. “While we’re talking, my assistant will be sitting off to the side making notes for me, and the photographer will be taking some pictures. You can ignore them and pretend it’s a conversation between just the two of us.”

Wen smiled and nodded, pulling a chair to the side and sitting down in it. She opened her folio to an empty pad of paper and took the thick fountain pen out of her pocket. Near her, Rohn Toro began setting up the camera tripod. Zapunyo glanced at them before turning back.

“Where are your parents from, Mr. Caido?” the smuggler asked.

Anden said, “My mother was Kekonese. My father is Espenian.”

“But you have a Kekonese family name,” Zapunyo said.

“My parents didn’t stay together; I was raised by my mother.” Anden added, with a hint of forced amusement, “Are you planning to interview me, instead of the other way around, sir?”

“I’m curious about the background of any journalist who is so persistent in requesting a meeting with me,” Zapunyo said. One of his bodyguards placed a glass of sparkling water with a straw on the side table next to him. He took it and sipped before speaking again. “Were you born in Kekon or in Espenia, Mr. Caido? Why did your parents come to this country?”

“I was born in Kekon,” Anden said, “but I came to Espenia as a child.” It was the first half-truth that Anden had told, and even though Wen doubted any of the barukan were skilled enough in Perception to detect such a minor deception, with each subsequent falsehood, the subtle tension in Anden’s body would grow until it became suspicious. Wen uncapped her fountain pen and held it poised over the blank pad of paper. She glanced at Rohn Toro, crouched down on the other side of Zapunyo, snapping photographs.

“As for why my family came to Espenia,” Anden went on, “I think they believed there was opportunity here. They thought I could make a better life for myself in Port Massy, because I was born looking Espenian, and because Kekon was a dangerous place at the time. What about you, Mr. Zapunyo?” he asked, pivoting the conversation. “How did you get to where you are now?”

“That is the question we’re all asking ourselves every day, isn’t it, Mr. Caido? How did we get to where we are now?” Zapunyo smoothed the top of his dark, coarse hair, looking thoughtful. “How is it that in my family, there were seven children but only four of us survived, and out of the four of us, I was the one who made it out of the ghetto, who made something of myself even though I was always the smallest and the physically weakest of all the boys?”

Each of the barukan and Zapunyo’s son were armed with handguns and two of them carried durbh blades as well. Rohn Toro had circled back to where Wen sat. He attached the camera onto the tripod. Anden said, “What do you think is the reason, Mr. Zapunyo? Do you believe that perhaps it was your fate, being directed by a higher power such as the gods?”

Zapunyo held up a stumpy finger and his eyes glistened with satisfaction. “I do believe the gods have some say, that is true, but men set their own destinies. For example, who’s to say what brings any two people together at a certain time and place for them to change each other’s lives?”

The smuggler turned a shrewd look on Anden. “I have many enemies, and naturally, before I agreed to meet with you, I had to check your credentials. Mr. Caido indeed works for the Kekon Journal and has written many articles and conducted many interviews. But you are not Ray Caido, are you?” Zapunyo fished a small black-and-white photograph from the front pocket of his suit and held it up. It appeared to be a yearbook photograph. “You don’t look like him. But you insist on meeting me, unarmed and on my terms, so you’re not here to kill me.”

Wen felt sweat break out on her back. She twisted the barrel of her pen and dropped it. It rolled off her lap and onto the floor. Rohn bent to retrieve it for her. Anden didn’t look at them; he sat completely still and stone-faced, not speaking. Zapunyo, looking smug, said, “Who sent you to seek me out? The Mountain clan? Or is it the Kekonese here in Espenia who want jade?”

Wen’s fountain pen broke easily. As Rohn pulled the thin string of tiny jade stones from inside the barrel, Anden leaned forward. “You’re wrong, Zapunyo. I am here to kill you.”

All of Zapunyo’s guards drew their guns at the same time, ready to unload a dozen bullets into Anden’s body. Two of them began to turn toward Rohn, detecting the sudden flare of a jade aura a split second before the Green Bone unleashed a Deflection that tore through the small confines of the hotel room. It knocked over the camera tripod, sent the water from the glass spraying, and slammed into the men who were standing, shoving them into the walls and furniture.

Gunshots rang out. Wen dropped flat to the ground, ears ringing, heart in her throat. She saw Anden throw himself onto Zapunyo, covering the smuggler’s body with his own. As he dragged them both out of the chair and onto the floor, Anden maneuvered behind Zapunyo and wrapped his arms around the man’s neck and thin shoulders, pinning him, then rolling over and ducking his own head so the smuggler lay struggling with his back on Anden’s chest, trapped as an unwilling shield; the bodyguards couldn’t shoot Anden without hitting their boss as well.

With her face against the carpet, Wen saw Zapunyo’s son shout, “No, Pap!” His eyes widened with panic as he tried to decide where to aim his gun. With a burst of Strength, Rohn Toro flew at him and struck him in the throat, crushing his windpipe. As Zapunyo’s son collapsed, Rohn twisted the gun from his grip and whipped it up, firing it—one, two, three times. One of the bodyguards went down; another brought up a desperate blast of Steel and Deflection that sent the final bullet into the hotel room window. The two remaining barukan returned fire; Rohn dove to the ground and fired twice, blowing out the kneecaps of the nearest man, who screamed as he fell, before Rohn’s next two shots silenced him.

The final barukan guard raced for the door, firing again at the Green Bone in a panic. In such close quarters, Rohn barely Deflected the shots; one of them tore the fabric of his jacket at the shoulder; another bullet embedded itself in the carpet next to Wen. The barukan reached the door and yanked the handle. Rohn flew Light across the length of the room and tackled the man, shoving him back into the closed door with a crash. They fell to the floor and grappled, Strength against Strength, the sound of thuds and labored breathing reaching Wen even as the two men disappeared from view behind the sofa.

Wen clambered to her hands and knees. There was a gun lying not far from her reach, dropped by one of the barukan as he fell. She crawled to it, grasped and lifted it; it was heavy, much heavier than the compact pistols she’d practiced with before. She had to hold it firmly with both hands as she got to her feet.

Rohn and the last guard were still struggling. Rohn had his hands wrapped around his opponent’s neck, squeezing and Channeling at the same time until blood began bubbling from the man’s mouth as he spasmed and kicked, clawing at Rohn’s Steeled hands. Anden was still on the ground, holding Zapunyo in a choke hold from behind. The Uwiwan flailed in a continuing effort to get free, but physically he was no match for Anden. Wen walked toward them. She could still hear the barukan’s dying gurgles behind her, but she paid them no attention. Zapunyo’s face was red, and his mouth worked in astonishment and fear, as if he could not believe that after so many years, and as sick as he was now, someone had gotten to him at last.

“Let go of him, Anden,” Wen said.

Zapunyo fell choking to the ground. He crawled to his knees and held his hands up, the blood draining from his face at the sight of his dead son and his slain men. “I’m a rich man, a powerful man,” he wheezed. “I can pay more than whatever you’ve been offered. Who sent you?”

“I sent myself,” Wen told him, “from the Kaul family of No Peak.” She pulled the trigger. The handgun bucked in her grip, jolting her wrists. Zapunyo fell back against the carpet, legs splayed out at an awkward angle, blood spreading under his head. Anden stared at the body, then at Wen. He got to his feet, shaking his head as if to clear it. Rohn Toro came over and looked down at the smuggler. Zapunyo seemed even smaller and more frail in death; it was hard to believe that he was responsible for so much evil in the world.

Rohn Toro glanced at Wen. “No wonder I’ve been told people fear the Maiks.” He bent over, catching his breath. A layer of sweat stood out on his brow. “I’m getting old,” Wen heard him mutter to himself. Taking a lens cloth from the camera bag, he wiped off the grips of the pistols he and Wen had handled and left them lying next to the bodies. The sleeve of his torn jacket was stained with blood; he took it off and threw it on the ground as well.

“Be quick, Rohn-jen,” Anden said. “We need to get out of here.” He crouched over the body of the nearest barukan guard, the younger one who had searched them out in the hallway. He tore the studs from the man’s ears and held them out to Rohn.

“What are you doing?” Rohn asked.

“Collecting your jade so we can get out of here faster.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Rohn said. “Don’t take anything that might link you to the scene of a murder. If we take the jade off their bodies, it’s a dead giveaway that Green Bones were responsible. Leave it. Take only the jade we came in with.” He handed the thin string of jade stones back to Wen, who once again hid it away in the empty barrel of the false fountain pen and pocketed it. For a few seconds, Rohn’s face contorted with the discomfort of jade withdrawal. He placed a hand on the back of the chair Zapunyo had been sitting in, steadying himself. Then he straightened and went to the door. Cracking it open, he looked down the hall and said, “Quickly, now.”

Anden stared at the jade studs in his palm and gave a small start, as if suddenly realizing what he was holding. He dropped them hastily. Wen saw him cast a backward glance around the room as they hurried to join Rohn at the door. She wondered if the disbelief on Anden’s face was because of what they’d done, or because it bothered him to be leaving jade behind on the bodies of their enemies, something no Green Bone in Janloon would ever do.

They shut the door behind them and walked quickly down the hall. Perhaps Zapunyo’s guards had taken the precaution of renting out the neighboring rooms as well because no one opened their doors out of curiosity at the commotion. Wen picked up her pace to keep up in her wedge heeled shoes. She felt giddy from adrenaline, and even though she was still frightened and her pulse was racing, she had to fight the urge to smile. They might yet be caught and thrown into an Espenian prison, but she was certain Shae would find a way to get them out. The important thing was that they had done it. She, a stone-eye, had done it. For once, she had not relied on Hilo to mete out the clan’s justice, but had delivered it herself. Not even all Green Bones could claim such a thing.

They rode the elevator back down to the second floor, then took the stairs down to the main level. There were people milling about in the lobby, bellmen coming and going, guests checking in or out, all of them oblivious to anything that had happened twelve stories above them. Wen suspected the sound of gunfire had been heard and reported, however; behind the check-in counter, two hotel staff were talking in an urgent manner to one of the policemen that had been on the street outside.

Rohn Toro slowed; he picked up a newspaper and tucked it under his arm as he ambled casually toward the main entrance. Wen looped her hand around the crook of Anden’s elbow as if they were a couple heading out for dinner. The two of them followed Rohn at a distance. The policeman did not look at them or give any sign that he noticed them at all. They exited the hotel with no problem and got into the illegally parked sedan. Rohn started the car and pulled away from the curb. As they drove away from the Crestwood, he kept glancing in the rearview mirror, but no police lights or sirens followed them. Wen allowed herself a cautious sigh of relief, but still none of them spoke.

As they had planned, Rohn drove fifteen minutes away to Starr Lumber & Supply, the hardware store where Anden used to work. The store had closed an hour ago; the alleyway parking lot behind the strip mall was almost empty except for a black hatchback that Rohn and Anden had left there earlier in the day. Rohn parked the Brock nearby. From the rear of the hatchback, Rohn removed a duffel bag containing a change of clothes for each of them.

Anden had an employee key he’d long ago forgotten to return but that he now used to let them in through the back entrance and into the garage of Starr Lumber. He flicked on the lights; fluorescent tubes flickered to life over pallets of recently delivered lumber and boxes of merchandise. Anden let out a long breath, his shoulders finally coming down. Wen glanced at the clock on the wall. In a few hours, she and Anden would be on a red-eye flight home. “Are you coming to Janloon with us, Rohn-jen?” she asked.

Rohn shook his head. “I wouldn’t like to be in an unfamiliar place like Janloon with so many other Green Bones around,” he said. “I’m going to find myself a warm beach in Alusius instead. I have people I’ve trained here who are green enough, who I trust to keep things in order and help the Dauks while I’m gone.”

Anden said, “I’ll call Dauk-jen now and let him know we’re ready to be picked up. The two of you get changed; the bathroom is right over there.” Anden dropped the duffel bag on the ground and went into the manager’s small office, where he picked up the phone and began to dial.

Wen unzipped the bag and pulled out casual clothes for traveling. Underneath were fresh shirts and pants for Rohn and Anden and in the bag’s side pocket, a pair of black men’s leather gloves. Rohn gestured for Wen to use the bathroom first; she gathered her items and was about to do so when the door of the garage flung open behind them and six men piled into the room.

A tall man with a felt hat and a gun stood at the front of the group. “You kecks,” he said, “have been stepping on the wrong crewboys.”

Wen screamed as he shot Rohn Toro in the legs.