Reign of Coins (12 page)

Sulyn and Yung-ching spoke for about a minute in Cantonese. I’m assuming this, since I could make out most of the words from the dialect’s older predecessors. I ascertained much of the conversation was about Alistair and his books, but Sulyn also said something about viewing the collection mentioned in Christian Morrow’s presence the previous afternoon. To this latter information, he nodded thoughtfully, and his expression became serious.

I’m sure that all of this looked confusing to my son, who glanced worriedly at me when the elder Cheung’s facial expression changed. However, once Sulyn motioned warmly for him to come join her by her grandfather’s bedside, Alistair grinned sheepishly.

“Wish me luck, Pops,” he whispered, and joined Sulyn, who had picked up the first hardcover for him to autograph.

“Just don’t write anything that will get us shot, kiddo,” I teased, keeping my voice low to where only he would hear me.

That was the intent, but two of the guards closest to us cracked slight smiles. How foolishly arrogant of me to assume their stoic silence indicated weak English comprehension skills!

Alistair signed all four volumes, and I was especially proud he remembered to hand each book to the old man with both hands, per Chinese custom. After the excitement of having books personally signed by my son subsided, I worried we’d be ushered out of Mr. Cheung’s presence, and any knowledge he might have about my coin’s whereabouts would remain a mystery. Of course, I didn’t intend to let that happen. But traditions carry far more weight in other countries than in America. I’d have to carefully pick my moment to speak up. If not for Sulyn, I might still be waiting.

Smart women always seem to have keen intuitions. As Alistair prepared to return where I stood, Sulyn studied me. Wearing the slightest of smiles, she addressed her grandfather once again. This time I couldn’t make out any of the words spoken, but her words seemed to have a bigger impact on him than their earlier conversation. His countenance quickly turned dark.

Sulyn looked at me wearing a similar expression.

“Alistair told me that you seek a silver shekel different from the ones you viewed yesterday. Cheung Yung-ching says he might know the coin you speak of.”

My heart suddenly lurched into my throat, followed by a suspicious glance at my son.

“Honestly, it’s all I said about it, Pops, that the shekel is unusual and carries a unique history,” he advised. “Sulyn said she’s heard rumors of such a coin growing up, although no one would say much about it. Other than it’s belonged to their family as an ancient heirloom and is stored in a secret place with other ‘cursed’ items.”

“What is Mr. Cheung willing to tell me about it?” I asked this question as calmly as I could, despite my immediate excitement. I wished Alistair hadn’t withheld this information from me. I would’ve had time to formulate excellent questions for Mr. Cheung to pinpoint my coin’s exact location, instead of trying to think off the cuff.

“My grandfather has a question for you before he will tell you anything about the coin,” she replied, demurely, as if she didn’t prefer the middleman role thrust upon her. “May I proceed?”

“Sure…I’m game.”

“His question is ‘why do you desire a coin that is tainted by sacred blood?’”

Well, at least I now had a better understanding of why she looked uncomfortable. Navigating a potential minefield might be an easier proposition. Alistair looked pained, as if he expected me to suddenly reveal I am Judas Iscariot, who caused the damned thing to become cursed in the first place.

It sure as hell wasn’t how I intended to handle this.

“I collect these particular coins, and am fully aware of the curses that follow them,” I said, careful to avoid self-incriminating facts. “While yours is certainly one with a terrible history, I have collected similar coins leaving bloodier trails.”

Sulyn related my answer to her grandfather. He turned to me, motioning for me to come nearer to him. The closer I came, the more I sensed the man’s frailty, and an invisible cloud of regret hung over his person.

“What you seek is not good,” he said, his English affected by his near exclusive reliance on Cantonese.

I glanced at Sulyn and my boy. Alistair seemed as amazed as me, while Sulyn looked ashamed, as if her grandfather had just betrayed her by revealing he could speak English. Hell, everyone in the room probably spoke the Yankee language just fine.

“I know,” I told him, nodding respectfully. “But, I’m uniquely qualified to take the coin out of circulation permanently, to where it can no longer hurt anyone.”

He nodded respectfully in return, and motioned for the guards closest to him to help position his body so he could better converse with me. His illness left him incredibly weak, despite a fiery will emanating from him.

“The blood shekel is the name Genghis Khan gave to the coin when it was left behind in a city of conquest,” he continued, his voice and English getting clearer, as if he were shaking off the rust from non use. “The daughter of a Mongol Queen brought it into my family, and my ancestors have learned to fear its wrath. No one has dared to destroy it, since the curse gets worse. The coin always comes back to us….”

His voice trailed off, as if he could see the terrible events that had plagued his family since the thirteenth century.

“Once it’s back in my possession, it can no longer hurt anyone else.” I said this with confidence and with compassion. I may often come across as an ass, but I do possess a heart that cares. My very soul ached for his family’s ongoing suffering that started with my own misdeed.

“So, this is your coin?”

“Yes, it is.”

“You are the one…. You are the one the legend speaks of?”

“What legend is that?”

Mr. Cheung motioned for his guards to leave the room, and appeared ready to send his granddaughter and my boy with them. But, then he changed his mind and let our kin remain in the room.

“It is a legend that has been in my family for hundreds of years,” he said. “My great grandfather told me as a young man there are certain items that must be kept with us and yet hidden from the world until the end times. If we keep them safe, then all is well with us. If, however, we fail to keep them hidden and safe, that generation will suffer tragedies without end.”

He paused to make sure I followed him. We were all enraptured by his words, and I got the feeling he was just warming up.

“When I was a young boy, my grandfather was very powerful in Hong Kong,” he continued. “But, his house was robbed, and the secret chest that held the cursed items was stolen. My family was terrified—even after all the items mysteriously reappeared in our home. That year, my sister died when she fell off a boat in Kowloon Bay. Her body was never found. Later that same year, my grandmother was killed while watching a knife-throwing exhibition. The knife that killed her bounced off the stage and landed between her eyes.

“It wasn’t until World War II started that my family escaped the curse. Trying to make sure the chest was protected from theft when the Japanese invaded Hong Kong, it ended up in a small cave on one of the surrounding islands. All but one of my grandfather’s servants perished, along with the Japanese soldiers who followed them to this cave. The one servant who survived said he watched the earth swallow the living and the dead along with the cursed chest. From that day forward, my family prospered without incident.”

Quite a story, but Mr. Cheung left out the parts where he had people murdered. Maybe it was still a happy ending for him, but it didn’t seem like such a grand deal for the folks who stood in his way.

“That’s really interesting, Mr. Cheung,” I said, hoping I didn’t come across as sarcastic. “But what did you mean by stating a legend foretold of my arrival into this drama?”

I probably should’ve stuck to basic English without the slang, since he eyed me curiously.

“The Mongol Queen, Mandukhai, once told the story of a man who briefly befriended Genghis Khan, and left him with the coin. The man had promised to return for it, but never did. Genghis believed the man must have died in battle…and, yet, still believed the man’s eternal spirit would return for the coin, and any other items contaminated by its presence. It was during Mandukhai’s reign that all of the items were placed in a chest to forever be protected.”

“And, that’s how it got from Asia-Minor or Mongolia to Hong Kong?”

“Yes, William, it is,” he replied, studying me as if trying to gauge how much of this story I believed. “Many of us in Hong Kong believe in reincarnation, and that we continue our passions in a new life, to develop spiritually. My family believes this is true. Is it so hard to believe the only person I have ever heard of having a passion for this blood coin—standing before me today—might have reincarnated to collect the cursed item that once was his to begin with?”

If I were like most people, I’d surely say, “Hell, yeah, it’s damned hard to believe!” But, in truth, is this that far off from the truth? Granted, I’m not reincarnated…but I do spend every waking moment trying to collect all of my blood coins.

“I’m not sure,” I said. “But, I strive to collect them all. So, if believing in reincarnation will make you feel better about me as the guy desperately trying to locate these wretched coins, then count me in.”

Alistair’s abhorred expression right after I said this was truly priceless. Payback for not giving me a heads up on the Cheung family history as it relates to tainted silver shekels.

“There is one other thing to consider,” said Mr. Cheung, nodding thoughtfully after I gave my tepid agreement to take the coin off of his hands. “Taking the coin means you must take everything else, too.”

“Everything else?”

“Everything inside the chest,” he explained. “There are necklaces, pendants, and even a sheathed golden dagger. The most important thing other than the ring is a combat vest belonging to Genghis Khan.”

“The Mantle of Genghis Khan?”

“You have heard of this armor piece?” Cheung seemed genuinely surprised.

“Not until yesterday,” I said, glancing at Sulyn and my son again. A white lie I hoped Alistair would accept for the time being. “A man named Christian Morrow is here looking for it. He’s probably willing to pay a lot of money, too. Maybe you should consider him, and let me deal with the coin’s craziness.”

Yes, I can almost hear the ‘yellow-belly traitor’ accusations out there. Letting Christian Morrow have his treasured relic and watch him destroy the world as we know it. Right? Not necessarily. Most cursed objects tend to backfire when used for further evil. And, that’s not just movie hype. Plenty of stories in recorded history support the notion.

“I have heard of this man, Morrow,” he confessed. “But, I do not wish to deal with him, since our curse will likely remain. I will only deal with you, William.”

“Well, if you don’t mind me asking, Mr. Cheung, how difficult will it be to retrieve all of the cursed items from where they are presently stored or hidden?”

Alistair had given us his rapt attention, and Cheung didn’t take offense to his sudden presence in our conversation. Of course, the man is also an acknowledged fan of my kid’s history books.

“They are in a hidden cave nearly impossible to detect because it is in plain view as something else.”

Ah, a riddle and a mystery. How Holy Grail of you, Cheung Yung-ching.

“Can you direct us to this place?” I thought about the map Morrow had mentioned yesterday. Meanwhile, the old man’s eyes had begun to flutter, and I feared we exhausted him. I looked at Sulyn, and she seemed to notice the same thing. “Maybe we should continue this discussion at a later time.”

I hated suggesting this, and I could thank my son’s guilt trip from yesterday. But, I made a promise to myself and to The Almighty at sunrise that morning to work a helluva lot harder to place others before me. Mr. Cheung might be dying, but I wanted him to be here as long as he could for his granddaughter’s sake. Even if it meant not asking a few more critical questions. It certainly was cruel to be kind, but at least the pain of what it might cost me brought a feeling of peace.

The right decision. But not the one he wanted to make.

“I have never seen the place,” he said, after allowing Sulyn to adjust his pillow so he could lie back against it. He smiled lovingly at her, and she looked as if she might cry at any moment. “No one has visited there since the war, and we have been blessed by relative peace for almost seventy years. However, there is a map. It is hidden in my safe.”

“The one in your estate?” Sulyn massaged his right arm and shoulder, awaiting his response to her question.

“No, it isn’t that one,” he replied. His eyes were closing, and I knew he’d soon succumb to sleep. “It is in my brother’s former office, near the warehouses downtown. We never sold it after Yung-fa died last year. The safe is in the closet near his desk. The combination is our birthdates—the same month is only used once….”

That was all Cheung Yung-ching told us before losing consciousness. On the way downstairs, Sulyn advised us that her grandfather was rarely as lucid these days. The treatments to hold off the advances of prostate cancer had failed, and it was only a matter of time before he crossed the veil to join his siblings and their ancestors.

The information we got from him that morning was much more than we could’ve reasonably expected from a man in his condition. Hopefully, it kept us one step ahead of Christian Morrow, Viktor Kaslow, and anyone with a death wish from the CIA.