Dangerous Journey (mobi v.9/12) Read online

  Alan sighed before continuing. “People were afraid because of Chan Li’s murder. Everyone knew he was connected with the theft. He had become wealthy by smuggling goods in and out of Communist China. That’s why he lived in Luchow near the border.”

  “Wait,” Darius interrupted. “Where did you learn that?”

  “I don’t remember. It just seemed to be general knowledge.”

  “I see,” Darius said thoughtfully.

  C.J. looked from one to the other. She didn’t fully understand what was going on, but she didn’t want to interrupt.

  “Well, anyway,” Alan said, “a few people mentioned a wealthy man living in San Francisco named Yeng. They indicated that he might be interested in the jade. I was getting more and more nervous in Hong Kong, so I decided to play it safe. I went to San Francisco.

  “I was picked up by the police as soon as I stepped off the plane. The Brits in Hong Kong had contacted them, expecting I’d show up at the airport. I hired a lawyer, who said my situation sounded dismal—something about a paper connecting me, the Dragon and Luchow.”

  “I’m sorry, Alan,” C.J. said. “It must have been the note I found in your room. I showed it to a number of officials, starting in Singapore. Now I know why none of them would answer my questions about it.’’

  “It’s not your fault,” Alan said bleakly.

  “Why didn’t you just go to Yeng when you were released from jail?” Darius asked.

  “It was because of something C.J. told me you said—that Yeng was dangerous. I didn’t want to believe it, but you were right. I had stupidly hoped Yeng would be some honest, trustworthy fellow willing to spend close to a million dollars for a very hot Chinese artifact. Who was I kidding? Even the people who told me about him never said he was a nice guy. Getting involved in all this, God, I was a fool!”

  “Um hmm,” Darius murmured in agreement.

  C.J. gave him a scathing look.

  Alan continued, ignoring them both. “I don’t know why the police let me go. I don’t know if it was due to Yeng, or if the British decided they had nothing to hold me on, or what. I went to Yeng’s house and watched the kind of people who went in and out of it. They’re gangsters, no doubt about it. I’m afraid of Yeng, of him finding me. My sending him the name Chan Li could be my death sentence. I sent it thinking he would want to negotiate, but I’m afraid negotiating wouldn’t be on his mind. Now that he knows I have the jade, all he has to do is find me, and force me to tell him where to find it.”

  “Oh, Alan.” C.J. grabbed his hands in hers.

  He pulled his back as soon as he felt the bandages. “God, C.J., what did you do to yourself?”

  “Leave her alone, Perkins,” Darius said with a snarl. “You’ll have to disappear. It’s your only hope. You don’t want to take the chance of falling into Yeng’s hands.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of. Thank God it’s a big country. I had better get started. C.J., do you have any money? I spent most of mine.”

  She pulled out her purse. “I’ve only got about a hundred and fifty dollars in cash.”

  “That’ll do for a start,” he said, reaching for it all, to her astonishment. “What would I do without you?”

  She turned instinctively to Darius for help. “I’ve got money; don’t worry,” he murmured, then gave Alan a look of scorn.

  C.J.’s gaze went from one man to the other; she was unable to stop comparing them, and her eyes rested with both hurt and disappointment on her brother.

  Alan raised his chin under this double scrutiny, a petulant bend to his lips as he turned to Darius. “You don’t like me, do you, Kane?”

  “No. But I’m trying to ignore that for C.J.’s sake. What I can’t ignore is that you haven’t told us where the Dragon is now.”

  “Oh, yes, the Dragon.” He fidgeted.

  “Tell us,” Darius said, his voice low. “You’ll never be safe from Yeng until he knows it’s no longer in your hands.”

  “God,” Alan moaned.

  “Alan!” C.J. cried, hardly able to believe his reluctance.

  “All right! It’s in Sarawak.”

  “Sarawak!” C.J. and Darius exclaimed in unison.

  “Sure. I didn’t know where else to hide it, and with my Peace Corps credentials I could come and go with no problem. So I went back to Sarawak. I didn’t go to my old village—that would have caused too many questions. Instead I rented a car in Kuching and drove to an area near my old village, but I made sure no one saw me out there. I buried the jade in the jungle, in the middle of nothing, a good three hours from any dwellings. From there, I went back to Hong Kong…and you know the rest of the story.”

  “Once the jade is returned to the Chinese government,” Darius said, “Yeng will stop pursuing you. You need to draw us a map. We’ll get the Dragon and turn it in, and you’ll be a free man. Just one thing: C.J. and I split the reward money, fifty-fifty.”

  C.J. looked at him in shock, feeling as if she’d just been doused with a pail of cold water. Darius wanted the reward money; how could she have forgotten that? But then, if he could find the jade and allow her brother to be safe, he deserved every penny of it.

  Her jaw tight, she handed Alan a small notepad, and he proceeded to draw.

  He sketched guideposts and gave explanations as he did. It took nearly ten minutes. “That should do it. It’s kind of hard to describe jungle. One reason it’s such a good hiding place is that it’s all so similar.” He shook his head, then smiled weakly. “Good luck, you two. Don’t spend all that loot in one place.” His eyes met his sister’s. “I’m sorry, C.J. I hope, someday, you’ll forgive me.”

  Then Alan was gone.

  C.J. trembled as thoughts swirled of what Alan had done, of his selfish disregard for the law and for her. Darius watched her, not sure what to do to ease her unhappiness. “Do you want to go now?” he asked.

  “Yes, please.” She hardly recognized her own voice.

  “Let’s get out of here.” He led her from the theater. “We can walk back to your hotel from here.”

  The fog they had watched roll in earlier now blanketed the city, and they huddled close together as they walked.

  “I’m going with you, you know,” she said, her jaw set.

  “Of course. It’s your hotel room.”

  “You know what I mean,” she said.

  “If by that you mean to Sarawak, the answer is no.”

  “It wasn’t a question, and I am going! He’s my brother.”

  “C.J., trekking through the jungle looking for buried treasure is not the kind of thing you can do. You have no training, no stamina. Believe me, it’s not like in the movies. Sarawak is infested with dangerous insects and snakes—not to mention leopards. Even the monkeys aren’t the cute, friendly little creatures you see on television. They can turn into ferocious, biting, clawing monsters if you upset a tribe of them.”

  Her stomach tightened at his description. “Nonsense. Alan went in there alone, and he got out again very easily. If he can do it, certainly the two of us together can.”

  “He lived there for three years. He knew exactly what he was doing. You were only in the village for a few days. Do you remember what the jungle was like beyond that village? Do you remember the nights there, when you lay in your bed and heard animal cries and strange noises you couldn’t begin to understand in the darkness? The jungle comes alive at night, and it can be very, very frightening.”

  “Stop! I’m going with you, no matter what you say. I don’t appreciate you trying to frighten me like this.”

  “You still don’t trust me, do you?”

  She felt herself pale slightly as his words hit home. Still, she couldn’t be sure how much of her insistence on going was because of a lack of trust, and how much was because she hated the thought of not being with him. She jutted out her chin. “Of course I trust you. Otherwise, I wouldn’t go with you. I’d find someone else to take me!”

  “If you trusted me, you’d go to Hong
Kong and wait. Why don’t you go to Jimmy’s. I’ll meet you there.”

  “How can you meet me in Hong Kong? I thought the police were after you. In fact, how did you even manage to get out of the country?”

  He shrugged. “I told them what they needed to know about the counterfeiters in Macao. That was the price of my freedom. Then they were willing to believe I really didn’t have any information about Alan and the Dragon, and only met you by chance.” A flicker of his old, rakish grin showed. “I told them how quickly, when we met, you invited me up to your room…”

  “I see.” She scowled.

  “Anyway, losing the reward was expensive, but together we’ll turn the Dragon over to the Chinese government and collect an even bigger one.”

  “Reward!” She spat the word out bitterly, her worst suspicions confirmed. “That’s all you think about, isn’t it? You and Alan—two of a kind. If all you want is money, why don’t you pick up where Alan left off? Why don’t you contact the infamous Mr. Yeng?”

  “Don’t tempt me, C.J.!” His voice was low and threatening, as if she had pushed him too far.

  She clamped her mouth shut, deciding it wouldn’t be wise to continue the argument. Later, she would make it clear that she was going to Sarawak. They had continued to walk. Despite herself, despite her irritation at him, she was comforted by his nearness.

  “Stop,” Darius whispered. He pulled her back into the shadows of a doorway, then pointed down the street.

  She looked in the direction he was indicating. Through the gray mist, the silhouettes of two men were visible, leaning against the side of a building on the corner, watching the entrance to her hotel. If a taxi pulled up to let out its passengers, they could reach those passengers before they ever got into the hotel.

  C.J. knew it was likely that they were waiting for her—wanting to use her to get to Alan and the White Dragon.

  “Do you mind leaving a few clothes, if not your heart, in San Francisco?” Darius asked in a hushed voice. “I think we should just get out of here.”

  She nodded.

  He took her arm, and they started to quietly walk back in the direction from which they came. A third man, a hulking figure in a loud plaid sports jacket, stepped directly into their path. He held a gun.

  Without even stopping to think about what she was doing, C.J. glanced over the hulk’s shoulder. “Alan, no!” she shrieked.

  The hulk turned his head for just an instant, but it was enough time for Darius to grab the arm that held the gun.

  As the big man tried to shake Darius free, the gun waved wildly. C.J. ran for cover.

  “Good thinking, C.J.,” Darius said as he twisted the hulk into a wrestling choke hold. The hulk dropped the gun, but then pulled himself free, spun around and flung a fist at Darius. He stepped back quickly, and the blow only landed lightly on his jaw. Retaliation was sweet as his fist smashed into the hulk’s face. The man barely staggered before he went after Darius again. Although they were matched in height, the stranger seemed to have a good fifty to sixty pound advantage.

  “Don’t just stand there, woman. Get the gun!” Darius shouted as he landed another blow to the man’s chin, then ducked to avoid the return thrust.

  “Stop stepping on it, then!” She couldn’t reach the gun for fear of being trampled.

  “I’m not—argh!” Darius doubled over as the man hit him in the stomach. He pounded the hulk’s rib cage a couple of times in return.

  “You do need help!” she said, her hand on her hips.

  “Hey, I thought I was doing pretty good. Here!” He gave the gun a kick that sent it spinning along the sidewalk.

  C.J. ran for it. “Bravo!” she cried as she swooped down to pick it up. It was huge; it looked more like a hand cannon than a pistol.

  She had it in her hand and was about to stop the fight when she saw the two men who had been watching the front of the hotel running toward them. “Uh oh,” she murmured.

  She looked at the two men approaching from her left, Darius fighting on her right, and had no idea how to stop the men in both directions at the same time. Making her choice, she stood, legs apart in a firm stance, both hands on the handle of the gun, arms straight out in front of her, to face the two runners. It was a position she had seen many times on television, but that was as close as she came to knowing what she was doing.

  As soon as they saw the gun, the two men skidded to a stop.

  “Stay right there!” she shouted, her voice quaking, the gun shaking violently as she pointed it at them.

  “All right, lady,” one of the men said, putting his hand up, palm outward. “Just stop shaking. That gun has a hair trigger.”

  “Be quiet!” she screamed. As she did, the gun jiggled even more.

  Seeing that, the two men glanced at each other and nodded then turned and ran as fast as they could away from her and disappeared around the corner. She watched them go with relief, dropping her arms.

  Darius! she thought. Spinning around to face the fighters, she raised the magnum again.

  The fight had stopped. The hulk was lying on the sidewalk, knocked out cold, and Darius was lounging against the building, one hand in his pocket, the other languidly holding a cigarette to his lips.

  She lowered the gun. “Why didn’t you help me?” she cried.

  “Help you? I thought you were trying out for Charlie’s Angels. Any minute I expected you to say, ‘Come on, make my day!’ You did just fine.” He laughed as he straightened, then crushed the cigarette on the sidewalk with his toe. “I don’t think those guys will stop running until they get to the next county!”

  She looked at the gun in her hand and was suddenly filled with loathing. “Let’s go!” she said, and tossed it to the ground.

  The explosion seemed to rock the entire street. C.J. crouched low and Darius dropped to one knee as a loud hiss filled the air. She looked at the gun barrel, then her gaze followed where it pointed. A gaping hole showed in the tire of a parked car.

  C.J. gaped, shocked at what she had done. Darius grabbed her arm and half-dragged her down the block. “Hurry! The police will be here in a minute!”

  His words made sense, and she began to run with him.

  Three blocks later, she begged him to stop. The pain in her side made it impossible to go any farther. Even the sound of rapidly approaching police sirens couldn’t induce her to run another step.

  Darius spotted a neighborhood bar, and the two of them walked inside. He ordered them each an Anchor Steam beer, a San Francisco brand, then went to the public telephone.

  “We’re in luck,” he said when he returned to her side. “I contacted the pilot of a small plane who’ll take us to Los Angeles International where I can catch a flight to Singapore. You can go home and wait for word from me.”

  C.J.’s home was a small one bedroom apartment a couple of blocks off busy La Cienega Boulevard. How lonely it suddenly seemed. She didn’t care for his suggestion one little bit. “‘Go to Jimmy’s.’ ‘Go home.’ You are too full of orders, Darius Kane. If Sarawak will be dangerous, it’s better for the two of us to stay together.”

  “Is that it? Or do you think I might run off with the reward money?”

  No, Darius, it’s not because of money that I can’t bear to leave you. But all she said was, “I don’t care about the reward. I have to see this through to the end. I’m going to Sarawak, with or without you.”

  He studied the firm set of her jaw and knew arguing would be useless. “Against my better judgment, I’ll agree. Let’s have our drinks; the plane will be ready in a couple of hours.”

  A little while later Darius hailed a taxi for the trip to a small airfield.

  By the time they reached Los Angeles International Airport, it was two a.m. They went straight to the ticket counter, C.J. clutching her recently much-abused credit card.

  “There’s a seven hour wait,” Darius said. “That’ll give you time to change your mind about going.”

  “No, but it does allow
me to go home and get some clean clothes! I’m sick of wearing the same few outfits.”

  Darius waited with her at the taxi stand, and as she got into a cab, he got in beside her. She didn’t attempt to argue after one look at the expression on his face.

  Her apartment was in a 1930’s building on a quiet street. The main door was locked, but when she reached her third floor apartment, it was unlocked. Darius had her wait to one side as he went in.

  The apartment had been ransacked.

  C.J. entered, stunned. “Why?” she whispered, seeing her belongings on the floor, her sofa and overstuffed chair, even her mattress ripped open and the stuffing removed. Her paints were knocked over, and the few paintings she kept in the apartment were thrown in a heap on the floor like so much rubbish.

  “Desperation, I guess,” Darius said. He glanced at the paintings, and saw what she had said about them—they were purely commercial oils, done quickly and emotionlessly, the sort found lining sidewalks in tourist areas going for around $49 a pop “on sale,” and such work was always on sale. He could see she was wasting talent because of a need to make money, a common problem for many people, himself included. No, that wasn’t true. His talent was gone now. He turned his thoughts back to the situation at hand. “Whoever did this may have thought Alan sent the White Dragon here, and you or someone close to you might have hidden it. Or, they were sending a message to not even think about trying to hide it here.”

  “They want me to know they can find me. Scare me.” Her gaze was hollow. “Well, they succeeded.”

  “Find whatever clothes you want to take, C.J., and let’s get out of here.”

  Her shoulders sagged as she stepped over the smashed mementos of her youth and souvenirs from her trip to Europe. She had had so little, and now even that was gone.

  Wordlessly, she did as told. Damn that Dragon, anyway, she thought. It would have been better for her and her entire family if it had disappeared with the T’ang dynasty.

  They returned to the airport to wait for their flight.

  Chapter 13

  Over twenty-four hours later the plane carrying C.J. and Darius arrived in Singapore. Since there were no flights to the island of Borneo until the next morning, so they had to remain there overnight.