Backwardness incurs beatings from others.
This phrase went through Yuelin’s mind as she assessed the carnage in the lobby of the Hobart Avenue safe-house: her three comrades’ dead bodies unceremoniously strewn on the floor; blood everywhere. It was a phrase that harked back to colonial humiliation at the hands of the West. A phrase Chinese schoolchildren have in their blood.
She’d set out to repay the injustice. But now her own backwardness – her own lack of judgment – had incurred a beating.
It wasn’t just the deaths of her more-than-brothers. It was the undermining of a revenge plot that’d been a lifetime in the making. Forsyth had escaped unscathed.
One of the men responsible was among the bodies on the floor. The yang guizi, Scott Brendan. A man who she’d naïvely brought on side because she thought he was naïve. Who she’d brought on side because she was convinced there was no way he could hurt her, and because she had zero intention of honoring the bargain.
And what really stung was that he’d used a weapon that was, unbeknown to her, in her possession the whole time.
A weapon that was now smashed to pieces on the floor besides Scott’s corpse.
A mad urge to kick his body rose in her chest, but she squashed it. Whereas the bodies of her comrades could be incinerated – nobody in America would miss them, or notice they were gone – the body of Scott Brendan needed to be dealt with more thoroughly. No loose ends. That was at the heart of the mission.
With this thought, her mouth twisted into an ironic smile. The whole point of using information as the primary tool for blackmail was not only to allow her to extend her influence far and wide, but also to ensure things stayed nice and clean.
But now, despite her efforts, things were looking messy as ever. Loose ends all over.
Flexibility was the credo she lived by. And she knew her flexibility had already helped her on countless occasions. For instance, it’d led to the decision to have Liang burnt alive, and thrown in with the Consulate fire, when it became clear he was a liability. She of course knew that Liang’s body might be identified (though she hadn’t imagined it’d happen so fast); and that in this eventuality – after the attempt on the Secretary – folk would find it hard to believe his death was an accident. But while she’d wanted the Consulate to look like an accident for her own vanity, ultimately it didn’t matter, since Mannford would simply take the fall for both.
But then she’d gone a step too far with the flexibility. She’d decided to make a deal with Brendan, and it’d blown up in her face.
However, though things seemed to be fraying at the edges, Yuelin knew they could be solved with flexibility. Flexibility in her approach to Scott’s body. Flexibility in managing the fact that Minxin and Hao had been publicly kidnapped, then had seemingly disappeared off the face of the earth for a number of hours. And if she could deal with all that, she might be able to weather the storm.
Yet there was also the issue of the video confession Scott had undoubtedly recorded…
‘What do we do?’ Jantzen said, jogging her from her thoughts. She’d half-forgotten he was at her side. She could see that he was also moved by his fallen comrades.
‘Let’s see what they’ve done with Hao.’
She led the way to the kitchen door.
She wanted to find Hao alive. She didn’t know what Scott had done with the video confession. But if Hao was still alive, there was a good chance this meant Scott had left it someplace nobody was likely to find it – and so knew Hao needed to be kept alive as one of the few people able to testify against her.
Then there was the more obvious reason Yuelin wanted to him alive: she could use him to cover up the mess Saul and Scott had created.
It’d also crossed Yuelin’s mind that before he’d finished himself off, Scott might’ve called the police, and told them this address. As a result, she’d cased out the house for a good half hour before entering, just to be safe. But on the whole, she thought this was an unlikely move. After all, he would’ve known that Hao was far more likely to incriminate Saul than testify against Yuelin; that he’d still be under Yuelin’s thumb.
Then again, perhaps he’d simply not called the police, or killed Hao, because he’d been too exhausted to do anything but die.
Yuelin opened the door. Hao, still tied up, looked at her with traumatized eyes.
‘Yuelin. Thank God.’
For a moment, Yuelin felt a glimmer of relief. But then, an almighty anger erupted behind her eyes. Hao had been loose with his lips, and it’d been fatal.
‘Thank God. Thank God.’ Hao had suddenly descended into hysterical tears.
Yuelin powered over, and smashed the back of her hand across his face. Then she balled a fist in his hair.
‘You fall into their hands for a minute, and squeal like a pig. I thought I could trust you. That, because you’re Chinese, you could be treated with some respect. But you’ve betrayed your race. Because of you, my brothers – your brothers – have died. You do not deserve to be considered Chinese.’
Tears of fear and destitution continued down his face. ‘I’m sorry. I’ll do anything to make this up.’
‘You will,’ she snarled. ‘But first, you must meet justice. We must mark the fact that you’re no longer to be considered truly Chinese. We must mark you – and though we can’t do it in a way that others’ll see, it must be permanent.’
‘Please, have mercy.’
‘Justice is mercy. There’s nothing more sacred than the Chinese race. It’d be merciless to our people were you not punished.’
She let go of his hair. Then she undid one of his shoes.
‘Get me a kitchen knife,’ she said to Jantzen.
He moved about the kitchen, and produced a large bread knife.
‘Please no. Please.’
She ignored him. ‘Three of your toes – one for each of my men. We’ll do it slow, so you can feel their suffering. Then, whenever you see your foot, you’ll remember that you’re no longer fully Chinese. You’re one of them. A guizi.’
Hao no longer spoke. He merely whinnied under his breath. He knew the die was cast.
Yuelin stood, and took the knife from Jantzen.
She didn’t take pleasure from this – that wasn’t the right word. She took satisfaction –satisfaction that came from honoring her nation. She was proud to be avenging China, and her brothers. Proud that she had the opportunity to manifest Chinese justice.
This man had humiliated China. Now he had to pay.
She picked up a dishcloth, and shoved it in Hao’s mouth.
Then she bent down and, with the overwhelming will of a nation coursing through her veins, put the blade to flesh.
Yuelin came out the kitchen buzzing with pride. Rocking foot to foot.
She’d left the sobbing, pathetic worm tied to the chair to contemplate what he’d done. But the job she’d just carried out had made her realize that her duty was far from finished. That she couldn’t allow her setbacks to deflate her.
The Chinese nation had experienced a hundred years of humiliation and set-backs. But still it came fighting back. And so too would she.
Yes, her plot against Secretary Forsyth had been foiled. Yes, her plot on the Consulate had been botched – only fifteen parasites killed. But she was going to adapt her plan to make sure she still hit these yangguizi hard. And she would achieve justice.
She turned to Jantzen.
‘Send the team here to clean up. Our fallen comrades will need to be incinerated. Brendan’s body – preserve it. Also, have them clear Hao up. He’s still vital.’
Jantzen nodded.
‘But there’s more,’ she continued. ‘That target in Sacramento – the one we’ve been monitoring? He’s back on the agenda.’
Jantzen’s mouth rounded in surprise.
‘But I thought we agreed to leave him—’
She broke in. ‘Nothing’s off the table any more. We’ve got the technology, so we’re calling the shots. Justice for China must not be denied.’