Skeleton Women (19 page)
18
False Alarm
T
he next morning, while the gang members were still sleeping, I went up to the deck to gaze at the sea, hoping the deep blue waves would clear my mind and calm my spirit. Yet the scene with Gao kept coming back to me. As I was thus preoccupied with my thoughts, a man walked toward me, then bumped his elbow into my purse.
he next morning, while the gang members were still sleeping, I went up to the deck to gaze at the sea, hoping the deep blue waves would clear my mind and calm my spirit. Yet the scene with Gao kept coming back to me. As I was thus preoccupied with my thoughts, a man walked toward me, then bumped his elbow into my purse.
I was about to say something, when I noticed my purse was open with a slip of paper visible inside. Making sure that nobody was close enough to notice, I took it out and read:
You’ve not been paying attention. From now on, stay alert, and try better to communicate with us.
My heart sank. Big Brother Wang had put another person on the ship whom he hadn’t told me about. And this man was not happy with what I’d done so far or, to be exact, failed to do. Did my boss imagine I could just tell the assassin to break into Lung’s room in the middle of the night? That was quite out of the question because Gao and his team, all armed, were always alternating their vigil outside Lung’s door. Yes, Gao had been distracted by me briefly, but now I was sure he’d be extra alert.
Moments later, from the corner of my eye I saw the Japanese couple approaching the rail and, like me, looking out over the sea. They whispered into each other’s ears and touched each other’s faces and hands intimately. As expected, they acted like a newlywed couple seemingly completely oblivious of those around them. Soon they were hugging each other, and a lipstick dropped from the woman’s purse. Making sure that no one was watching me, I took out a small piece of paper, scribbled quickly on it, then walked toward the stairs leading back to the lower deck. As I passed the couple, I picked up the lipstick and handed it to the woman—with the small piece of paper. She pocketed both, then thanked me profusely in heavily accented Mandarin.
The third evening, inside the ship’s packed ballroom, Lung and I were tapping our expensive shoes on the polished parquet floor. Jazz music from a Filipino band invigorated the passengers’ feet so that they bounced energetically on the shiny floor. Lung looked very happy, swaying and twirling me this way and that and making me dizzy, not with happiness, but with anxiety. Mr. Zhu, Jinying, Gao, and one bodyguard sat at the front table, chatting casually, their eyes glued on us like snails on the ground. The two other bodyguards discreetly strolled, alert for anything suspicious. While Jinying and Gao’s faces held sour expressions, Zhu and the bodyguard next to him were happily drinking, snacking, visually molesting the beautiful women, and generally having a wonderful time, paid for by their boss.
The band played waltzes, fox trots, Charlestons, tangos, and jitterbugs. The more skillful their playing, the more Lung wanted to show off his skill and his mistress—me. Perhaps because of my patron’s threatening, don’t-try-to-beat-me look and his slick moves, couples began to drift back to their seats to watch us.
Oohs
and
aahs
shot from their mouths as they clapped fervently whenever Lung lifted me up to heaven, then eased me down to earth. Some of the Chinese probably recognized who we were, but I doubted the foreigners had any clue as to the identity of this small, powerful man and his fragile skeleton woman.
Oohs
and
aahs
shot from their mouths as they clapped fervently whenever Lung lifted me up to heaven, then eased me down to earth. Some of the Chinese probably recognized who we were, but I doubted the foreigners had any clue as to the identity of this small, powerful man and his fragile skeleton woman.
Looking extremely pleased with himself and his admirers, Lung let his shoes scratch the floor ever harder, as if it were suddenly festering with a rash. He twisted his small, lean body in all four directions so vigorously that sometimes he looked as if he were having a seizure or as if hundred of ants were crawling up his pants. Again, people laughed and clapped, but I wondered if they realized that this amusing man would slice them into pieces if it served his purposes.
As Lung was smiling on the outside, I did the same inside. Because I expected that soon our dancing would be complemented by another act, carried out, I hoped, with impeccable skill like Lung’s dancing, though not likely to make him smile. In my peripheral vision, I saw the Japanese man whisper something to his “wife,” plant a kiss on her cheek, then stand up and leave the ballroom. No one but me seemed to notice.
Besides the Japanese wife, I was the only one in the ballroom who knew what was going to happen. I prayed that my heart, beating like the drummer in the band, would not be heard by Lung. As I forced the smile to stay on my face and my feet on the floor, to my surprise, Jinying abruptly stood up from his chair and walked into the dancing area. Oh, heaven, I thought, let him not spoil my mission yet again!
When the young master was in front of us, he said, “Father, you two look so wonderful together. But you must be tired now, so why don’t you let me dance with Camilla so you can take a break?”
Lung stopped and took out a handkerchief to wipe his perspiring forehead. “All right, I do feel tired. Here’s my Camilla. Treat her well.”
“I will, Father.”
I cursed inside as I watched the gangster head walk back to his table to join his right-hand man and bodyguards.
“Jinying, I think your father is really enjoying this, so why didn’t you let him continue?”
“Because I also want to dance with you. And I can’t bear to see you dancing with him. Haven’t you heard the expression ‘a fresh flower stuck in a pile of dung’?”
Of course I knew the phrase. But what was I supposed to say? So I put on a faint smile and whispered softly, “Let’s dance, Young Master.”
Needless to say, the son was a much more pleasurable dance partner than his father. Not only because he was tall, lean, elegant, and young, but also because he was a gentleman. Lung was skillful only in a crude, clownish, showy way. Anyone could tell his partner was merely his rag doll, or puppet, so he could show off his absolute domination. But Jinying led me in a protective way, careful not to hurt my delicate frame and conscious to make sure I’d enjoy the swing, the twirl, the glide. I felt like I was dancing with a loving person, not a powerful machine running at full speed. Then there was Gao. I was sure he was dying to dance with me, but would he have the guts to cut in on his boss’s son? I peeked at the bodyguard and met his sad eyes.
Good.
He looked too lost in his own troubles to sense anything between me and his boss’s son.
Good.
He looked too lost in his own troubles to sense anything between me and his boss’s son.
But why was I analyzing all of this? I needed to prepare for what was going to happen, maybe in minutes, not ruminate on who was a better dancer, lover, or who looked sad.
Jinying’s voice rose next to my ear, breaking up my thoughts. “Camilla, what are you thinking? Are you enjoying this?”
I looked up and found the young master’s face forlorn and unbearably sad, just like Gao’s, and equally poignant. From the corner of my eye I saw Gao help the staggering Lung toward the exit. Seconds later, the fire alarm sounded
Riiiing ... Riiiing ... Riiiing!
loud and clear in the packed ballroom like a newborn baby’s life-entering cries. The orchestra abruptly stopped.
Riiiing ... Riiiing ... Riiiing!
loud and clear in the packed ballroom like a newborn baby’s life-entering cries. The orchestra abruptly stopped.
“What’s that?” a male voice blurted out, followed by several other people asking similar questions. “What happened?” “Is something wrong?”
A tuxedoed man dashed to the small stage of the dancing area and grabbed the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m the manager of this dance hall. Please stay calm. That is our fire alarm, and I believe it’s a mistake. A mechanic has been sent to check, and everything should be okay. Sometimes we have false alarms. So please don’t worry, and continue to enjoy yourselves.” After that, he turned to signal the Filipino band to resume playing. But no sooner had he stepped down from the stage than someone yelled, “Fire! Fire!”
The players stopped again to stare at one another questioningly. The manager dashed back onstage, reiterating in his booming voice, “Ladies and gentlemen, trust me, it’s a false alarm. Please stay calm, and don’t cause chaos by rushing out of the ballroom.”
Contrary to his advice, people began to head toward the exit as they whispered heatedly, “Fire! It’s a fire! I can smell smoke!”
Jinying put his arm around my shoulders protectively. “Camilla, I think I smell smoke. Do you?”
My head nodded vigorously to match my pounding heart.
“Let’s go.”
He half pushed me onto the small stage, then led me through a back exit into a long, dim corridor. We groped in the dark for a while before we finally found our way to the main deck. People, some of whom I recognized from the ballroom, were milling around, looking frightened and helpless. Listlessly they either stared at the boundless sea or looked at one another, desperate for reassurance.
I was frightened as well, because I had no idea that starting a fire was part of the plan. I’d thought that the Japanese would just set off the alarm to create confusion and provide a chance to kill Lung, a strategy called
hunshui moyu,
stir the water to catch the fish. But the idea was certainly not to have ourselves killed to accompany the gangster head on his trip to hell!
hunshui moyu,
stir the water to catch the fish. But the idea was certainly not to have ourselves killed to accompany the gangster head on his trip to hell!
Jinying and I squeezed our way through the other passengers till we reached the rail. As people pressed against my back, I stared at the dark sea and felt a sense of hopelessness.
“Jinying, if the whole ship is on fire, where can we go?”
“I don’t see any other way out except the sea,” he said, taking off his suit jacket and draping it over my shoulders. But this kind act hardly gave me any comfort.
Just then another mob of passengers, probably from the ballroom and its neighboring casino and restaurant, rushed onto the deck for fresh air. The adults looked alarmed and worried; the children had mixed expressions, some oblivious, others happy, probably thinking this was a much more exciting game than those played at home.
In the distance, a little girl cried hysterically for her parents. “Baba, Mama, where are you?”
“Jinying, where do you think your father is now?” I asked, secretly hoping that the old man’s soul was already on its way to where it deserved to go.
He pointed to the milling, agonized mob around us. “Possibly in the front of the ship ...”
“What makes you think he’s in the front?”
He scoffed, “Because he has to be ahead in everything!”
I nodded, wondering what to do next.
“Anyway, I don’t think we can get through this crowd to find him. But I’m sure he’ll be safe as long as he’s with Gao.”
“I hope so,” I said, hoping the opposite.
However, it seemed nobody was paying attention to anyone but themselves and their family.
Jinying said, his voice filled with worry, “I don’t see any of the crew around. I hope they’re downstairs extinguishing the fire. Camilla, can you swim?”
“But, Jinying, we’ll freeze to death in the icy water!”
“I know. But sometimes in life we don’t have a choice, do we?”
His sentence hit a chord in me so hard that tears rolled down my cheeks despite my effort to stop them.
Jinying pulled me to him and pressed my head against his chest. “Don’t be sad, Camilla. If we die, at least we’ll die together.”
I was about to ask, “Why do you love me so much? Would you love me if you knew that I am your father’s fateful star? That I am just using you for an evil purpose?”
But then a uniformed man climbed onto the ship’s bridge and spoke through a megaphone. “Ladies and gentleman, I’m this ship’s first mate. There’s very good news—the fire has just been extinguished! Now everything’s fine and under control. So please go back down to continue to enjoy our ship’s many entertainments.”
Thunderous clapping burst in the chilly night air.
A white-haired man asked, “What happened?”
“Somehow a fire started accidentally outside the ballroom. We have no idea how. My guess is that some children were playing with matches. Anyway, everything is fine now.”
Not far from us, a gray-haired grandmother yelled in her alto voice, “Children who play with fire should be punished! And so should their parents, who fail to discipline them!”
The people around her echoed, “Yes, naughty children should be punished!”
Of course I knew this was not a child’s game but an assassin’s. I decided I should show some concern about Lung, so I said to the young master, “You think your father’s okay?”
“Yes, as long as he’s with Gao.”
A man ‘s voice slashed the air. “You’re sure nobody’s hurt?”
“Absolutely—”
Just then a loud commotion burst forth near the bow, followed by a loud shout, “Someone fell overboard!”
Could that be Lung?
Jinying and I pushed forward to the front to have a better look. Not one but two heads were bobbing in the angry waves like two huge bugs. To my dismay, Lung was one of them, and the other was Gao. Lung was still alive. This meant that the mission had failed yet again. Now my only hope was that Lung would catch pneumonia and die. It should be so easy!
The first mate screamed to a uniformed man beside him. “Get the ship’s doctor, quick!” Then he dashed to snatch two life preservers attached to long ropes and threw them into the sea. “Grab a hold! Hold on tight, and we will lower a lifeboat for you!”
As the two men bobbed in the sea, holding on to the life preservers, some sailors climbed into the lifeboat while others lowered it down. Soon both Lung and Gao were in the small boat, and it was being raised back up to the deck.
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