snarky_panda (snarky_panda) wrote in mulanficspace, @ 2007-06-08 20:20:00 |
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Entry tags: | au, mulan/shang, prey |
Prey, Chapter Six
Title: Prey
Summary: Alternate universe suspense story set in the 20th century, specifically the early 1980’s. The memory sections take place in the 1960’s, during China’s Cultural Revolution.
Disclaimer: Everything from the Disney movie belongs to Disney.
Link here for beginning of story.
Chapter Six
Curled up comfortably in Shang’s arms, she’d slept without waking again until the late morning. He was long gone and she hadn’t even been aware of him leaving, or even disentangling himself from her and slipping out from under the covers. She stretched lazily, feeling well-rested, and glanced at the clock on the night table.
Ten thirty!
Alarmed, Mulan sat up quickly and leaped out of bed, cursing profusely. Over two hours that might have been spent looking for a place to type up her letters were gone. She usually despised rising early; but she needed that extra time. Those packages needed to get out to the various papers quickly. As she dressed, she considered the possibility of writing the letters with her left hand instead of her right, in the event that she couldn’t get access to a typewriter. Her handwriting would be completely unrecognizable if she didn’t write with her dominant hand, but it very likely would be illegible, too.
She wandered around Shang’s apartment looking for pen and paper. Frightened, anxious and exhausted she’d hardly given it a second glance since the first day he brought her there. Feeling a little more settled she walked through each of the rooms with more observant eyes now, really paying attention to the layout and décor. It was a large one-bedroom apartment with a sizeable eat-in kitchen, a spacious living room and an additional room which he used as a study.
With awe she took in everything; the décor, his possessions, the subtle ways in which his traits and all the things she loved about him were expressed in them. Expensive and luxurious but not ostentatious; his taste was impeccable and elegant, and yet the rooms were decidedly masculine in appearance and feeling. She ran her hands with wonderment over the finely crafted furniture, some of which were antiques, gazed at the lovely artwork on the walls and perused the titles of the books on his shelf. He’d always been partial to poetry, she recalled, particularly the poets of the Tang Dynasty, and he’d brought his favorite editions to America with him.
They would have burned these books if he lived in mainland China, she thought suddenly and melancholy descended on her momentarily. In fact, if she hadn’t had the good luck to successfully flee to Hong Kong, she might never have had the opportunity to read such lovely poetry and prose.
The study was the last room that she examined, and as her eye fell on the typewriter that sat upon the desk there, she grinned broadly at her own daftness. Of course he had a typewriter! Even better, it was an electric one. And she thought she was going to have to wander around San Francisco looking for a service!
Sighing contentedly, she made her way to the kitchen and brewed herself some tea. Now she could remain in the relative safety of Shang’s apartment until she was ready to go out to mail the packages.
Ten minutes later she was perched comfortably at Shang’s desk, her bag sitting on the floor beside the chair, the cup of tea lying on the desk beside her hand. Inserting a sheet of paper into the typewriter, she began to type up the contents of Fei-pu’s note. There were ten newspapers on his list, and she typed up ten copies of the letter, addressed to each of the different publications. Then she handwrote a note in Chinese to Aunt Qiu-yue.
By one o’clock that afternoon the eleven envelopes were ready to be mailed. She had two more copies of the file in her bag, a copy for herself in the event that she needed it for leverage and another for the police, in the event that she decided to hand it over to them. Shang was a good man, and she wanted to believe that he wouldn’t associate with any man who wasn’t; but anyone could be fooled by an artful pretender, even the best judge of character. She wanted to think things over a little longer before she turned anything over to Officer John Lee.
Officer Lee’s car was visible when she poked her head out the door.
Dammit.
She didn’t want him following her to the post office. The mailing would have to wait a little longer.
The doorbell rang five minutes after she’d retreated back inside and dashed into the bedroom, tossing her bag into the closet. Mulan froze for a moment, wondering what Officer Lee could possibly want. Wasn’t he merely surveying her?
He pressed the button again and she hurried to the door, her steps slowing as she approached.
“Yes?” she called through the door.
“It’s Officer Lee, Ms. Chen. I’d like to speak with you some more.”
Mulan sighed and cautiously unlocked the door, pulling it open just a crack. He wasn’t in uniform and she felt cold in the pit of her stomach as panic began to set in.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Chen. My intention wasn’t to alarm you. I would just like to ask you some other questions. This has been a long investigation and we’ve been frustrated at every turn. Any bit of information you might have that would shed light on this case would be greatly appreciated.”
She acquiesced after another moment’s hesitation and opened the door wider to admit him.
*******
“The unit you work for is the Asian Gang Task Force, you said?” Mulan inquired, setting a glass of water on the coffee table before him. She perched herself on the couch, adjacent to the plush antique chair in which he sat.
“That’s right. You lived in Chinatown, but perhaps no one there discusses the Golden Dragon Massacre anymore. Everyone who was around for that would like to forget it.”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“Ah, yes. You came to the United States after it happened.”
“I see that you’ve thoroughly researched my life,” she commented pithily.
“Only to be sure that your activities weren’t clandestine,” he replied. “After all, your actions were quite secretive and you were clearly running from something.”
She lifted her own glass and sipped from it, refusing to look at him. Officer Lee knew that she’d withdrawn her money from the bank, knew when she entered the country, probably knew every move that she’d made in the past week. It made her intensely uncomfortable and she bristled with anger once more, resolving to later take Shang’s head off for bringing this friend of his into her life.
“I’m on your side, Ms. Chen.”
“So you said. What about this Golden Dragon Massacre?”
“Wah Ching and the Joe Boys were the two large Chinatown gangs involved. The Joe Boys attempted to carry out a massacre at a restaurant called the Golden Dragon, in revenge over the desecration of the graves of some Joe Boys members by members of Wah Ching. The assassination attempt was botched. Five people were killed, including two tourists, and eleven people were wounded. That was back in nineteen seventy seven. After this incident, the police department formed the Gang Task Force.”
Officer Lee set his glass back down and leaned back in his chair, folding his arms.
“I’m not sure how this happened, but somehow you’ve been asking all of the questions. It’s my turn.” He withdrew his pad and pen. “Were you on your way somewhere just before I came in?”
“Yes, but I can go when you’re finished. I wasn’t ready to leave yet; I just wanted to check the temperature.”
“What were you running from when Li Shang first asked me to keep an eye on you?”
Mulan looked at him askance as she answered. “I was afraid that I was being followed. Which it turns out was true, but not by who I thought.”
“Who did you think it was?”
“I never imagined it was the police. I thought it was Mr. Luo or someone who worked for him.”
“Why?”
“He accused me of reading a confidential file of his.”
“Did you?”
“No, I know better than that. I mind my own business. I’m not so stupid to look at my boss’s confidential files.”
“And you have no idea what kind of files they were?”
She raised her chin and peered into his face impudently. “Don’t you? If you suspect that Mr. Luo is involved in shady dealings, you must have an idea of what they might be.”
“It’s possible that Mr. Wen read them though, am I right?” he queried, ignoring her words.
“Yes. It seems like a plausible explanation as to why he ended up dead.”
“Still, you ran, which tells me you had some suspicions about Mr. Luo’s business practices being less than above board.”
“I suspected, but I had no proof. And I never asked him.”
“You’re here on a work visa,” he stated.
Mulan fixed a piercing gaze on him at his sudden change in tactics, waiting for him to mention the fact that she was in violation of it. But he didn’t. It was enough for him to merely suggest it and they both knew that.
“When I was here last time…you weren’t completely truthful with me…”
“I never lied to you,” she replied guardedly.
“No, you didn’t tell any outright lies. But you didn’t tell me everything that you know either. Withholding information…”
“I guess I’d better ask this again. Do I need an attorney present?”
“Technically you don’t have the right to an attorney. You’re not a citizen, nor a permanent resident here, and you’re in violation of your work visa now.”
Now he said it.
“Oh, I get it,” she answered softly, her lips drawn tightly into a thin line. He intended to blackmail her.
“An immigration lawyer perhaps. If you’re willing to cooperate, maybe I can help you.”
A rough, bitter laugh escaped her lips and she shook her head slowly. Li Shang lived in a dream world if he believed that most policemen weren’t corrupt in some way, and that included his good friend.
They both started at the sound of the shifting bolt in the lock on the front door. There was a light bang as the door was pushed open. Perfect timing.
“Mulan?” he called from the small foyer.
“In here, Shang. And not just me. You have a friend here, too.”
Officer Lee appeared somewhat uncomfortable momentarily, but he regained his composure quickly as Shang stepped into the living room. He stopped when he saw his friend sitting there.
“John! I didn’t expect to see you here…”
“I had some additional questions for Ms. Chen.”
“What are you doing home, Shang? Did you leave work early today?”
“After the bad night you had I was worried about you. I decided to take a late lunch and come home to see how you’re doing.”
“Fine,” she answered, beginning to smile in spite of the unpleasant experience she’d just been having with Officer Lee. “Can I make something for you?”
“Thank you, I wasn’t expecting…”
“I’m happy to do it,” she cut him off, rising quickly, eager to be in a different room from Officer Lee. “Would you like a sandwich? I saw bread and cold cuts in the kitchen.”
“That’s fine.”
She nodded and hurried off to the kitchen. Retrieving the bread from the pantry and the cold cuts from the refrigerator, she worked quietly so she could listen to the two men as they spoke softly.
“She’s quite a smart young woman, Li Shang.”
“And a very frightened and vulnerable young woman. She’s been through some terrible ordeals. I don’t want to see her go through anymore.”
Mulan finished making his sandwich and brought it out on a plate from the cabinet, along with a glass of water for him.
“Here you go.”
He gave her an affectionate smile as she handed his lunch to him then took her seat on the couch beside him.
“Officer Lee was suggesting that if I help him, he’ll help me. Otherwise I’ll be deported, I guess, since I’m in violation of my work visa. Unless, of course, they arrest me, in which case I won’t have a right to legal representation nor a fair trial here. Does America have an extradition policy with Hong Kong? I would assume so since it’s a British colony...”
“What?” Shang exclaimed in bewilderment, sandwich poised midway between his plate and his mouth.
“I have nothing to do with immigration, Ms. Chen,” Officer Lee answered smoothly. “However, if you help us, we’d be willing to look into arranging something for you should you want to stay here.”
Mulan’s brows drew together in a frown and she pressed her lips together tightly for a moment. Deciding that she would speak to Shang in private after Officer Lee had gone and give him more explicit details of the prior conversation, she answered, sticking to her original conviction.
“What do you want to know that I haven’t already told you?”
“Did Mr. Wen ever mention what the files were about?”
“I’m not certain that he read them. Chances are he did, since he was killed. But he never had time to speak with me about any of the details. I’ve already explained that.”
“You paid a visit to a different bank on Saturday morning. And it wasn’t a bank in which you had an account.”
Her blood seemed to freeze but she attempted to keep her face expressionless. “No, I don’t have an account there.”
“But Mr. Wen had a safety deposit box there.”
“Yes,” she answered, her mind working quickly to come up with an explanation that she could give. She didn’t want to let on that she had the files yet, which meant that now she would have to mix truth and lies once more.
“He gave you a key to it then?”
She nodded. “He gave it to the Mexican in Mission Dolores Park who passed it to me. But he didn’t say anything other than that Fei-pu couldn’t make it.”
“Well, how did you know which box it was?”
“The key was wrapped in a piece of paper with the bank’s address and a box number.”
“So you went to open it. What was in there?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?” he repeated, his eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“Someone else must have had a key. If there was anything in there, it was taken before I got to it.”
Officer Lee sighed. “Ms. Chen, I believe that you’re lying, although I can’t for the life of me figure out why. You’re clearly not working with Mr. Luo, or his…associates. Perhaps, if you have them, you’re hoping to blackmail him with these papers? If that’s the case, I strongly advise against it. It would be playing with fire. These men are ruthless and very dangerous.”
“Are you going to arrest me?”
“If you’re withholding evidence, I could arrest you for obstructing justice. At this point I don’t have definitive proof of that, just my suspicions, so no. Of course, I could return with a warrant to search your belongings. And this entire apartment. Give it some thought.”
He stood up and replaced his pad and pen in his pocket.
“Thank you again for your time and for the refreshment, Ms. Chen. Li Shang, I’ll see you soon.”