Girl Goes To Wudang (An Emily Kane Adventure Book 7) Page 13

  “Quite to the contrary,” he said, speaking English with an elegant accent. “I could not be more impressed… in Liang, for his newfound sense of irony, but mainly in you, for my mind is utterly captivated, trying to picture the deeds of martial valor that have put us in your debt.”

  “Do you mock me, sir? Some memories should not be stirred lightly.”

  “Far from it, Miss Tenno. I would much prefer to celebrate you, if you’ll permit.” He raised a hand to signal, and his friend materialized with a tray he’d liberated from a nearby server, on which stood four shot glasses and a bottle of maotai. “Let’s drink to martial valor… and new friends.”

  The glasses were filled before any objections could be made, but Emily managed to slow the festivities down for at least a brief moment. “How can we drink to anything respectable if we don’t know who our new friends are?”

  “You are so right, Captain. I beg a thousand pardons. My name is Wu Dao, and this is my friend, Miao Zhizheng. He likes to be called Zhi Zhi because he thinks it sounds Italian, though he doesn’t speak a word of the language.” With that, he tossed his drink back and grinned at Emily, and she did the same. Margie sipped hers, and kept a wary eye on both men.

  “You mean like Gigi?” Emily snorted and glanced at Margie, who laughed along with her. “Does he realize it’s a girl’s name in Italian?”

  “I doubt it, since he’s never been to Italy. Do you want to break the bad news?”

  “Gigi Miao.” Emily tried the name out, savoring the sound of it. “I like it. He should name his first daughter Gigi. But your name is even more interesting.”

  “You think so? I’ve always thought of it as a bad pun.”

  “I’m not sure it suits you, since I wouldn’t normally expect to see such a well-dressed Daoist.”

  “If only it were so simple,” Wu Dao said. “But it turns out I’m more of a dancer than a priest. Would you care to accompany me onto the floor?” He held out a hand, and Emily tilted her head to consider the offer… and in the background, the orchestra began a slower waltz. In the meantime, Zhizheng had filled the glasses again.

  “I don’t know much about dancing, I’m afraid,” Emily said, glancing at Margie, who shrugged, and finished her glass.

  “What is there to know?” Wu Dao picked up his glass, and grinned at her. “Three four time, just like the beating of your heart.”

  In the meantime, Margie had already accepted Zhizheng’s offer and the two of them were headed for the floor. Emily drained her glass and dropped it onto the table, where it clattered briefly. Wu Dao did the same, and took her hand, as the remaining occupants of chairs at their table watched with idle curiosity and whispered.

  He was right, of course, as she well knew, despite her feeble excuse. It was just a matter of listening to a rhythm and linking one’s body to it. Three-four could fit her body, at least for a time, or two-four, or four-four, though there were times when only eleven-eight seemed to suit her. It also didn’t hurt to have someone as sinuous as Wu Dao for a partner. His feet moved in waves, an ebb and flow that was transmitted through his hips and shoulders to his arms and into her body, and he was strong enough that she could relax in his hands.

  They said nothing through the slow waltz, and then a samba – Where had she even learned to dance a samba? Everything seemed possible in his arms – barely even meeting each other’s eyes. Margie had retreated to their table by now, and Zhizheng had wandered off in search of another partner. The first few bars of a tango cleared most couples off the floor, and Emily stopped to glance around the hall. The high-ranking dignitaries had departed, including the presidents and their entourages, which left mostly a younger crowd. She pushed out of Wu Dao’s grasp and scurried over to find Margie.

  “You better take these now. This damn brooch keeps jabbing me, and I don’t want to lose your bracelet.” Wu Dao found her a moment later, and they drank one more round of the maotai, before he tugged her back to the dance floor.

  “What shall I do with this?” Margie held out the silk box containing the medal.

  “Would you hold onto it for me until tomorrow… or Monday?” Emily called back to her, and then Wu Dao had her back on the floor for the second pass of the tango. She didn’t even hear when Margie called to her: “What about the pearls?”

  At some point, the evening began to drift into a blur. During the slow waltzes, he told her about a vexed relationship with his father, Wu Wei, who wanted him to have a hand in the business, and how little interest he took in it.

  “That’s easy to say when you’re living large on his money,” Emily said.

  “Yes, you’re right. I’m just a wastrel, a dissolute… isn’t that what your western novels call characters like me?”

  “Don’t make me your confessor. I have my own demons to contend with.”

  “You, demons? Aren’t you America’s girl next door, the fresh-faced war hero? What sort of demons could you possibly have?”

  She shrugged him off, and let the music carry her around the floor again in his arms. “What did you mean, your name is a bad pun?”

  “We are Daoists from way back. At least, my grandfather, and his father before him, they were Daoists. Grandfather even named his son after the central principle of Daoism.”

  “Of course,” Emily said. “Wu wei, non-action. But how…”

  “Now you see, grandfather disapproved of the family business. His brother built it up, and when he died childless, my father took it over, despite grandfather’s objections, and now he’s the largest arms manufacturer in Asia. Hardly a Daoist, that one.”

  The story got a little confusing for Emily to follow, or maybe it was all the maotai, or too many spins on the floor. Wu Dao said something about how his father married a dancer in the Beijing theater, the most beautiful money could buy, just to annoy his father. But it backfired when the high-society types his father now associated with made their disapproval of a former showgirl too obvious. The marriage soured when she insisted on naming her son for her love of dance.

  “That’s really quite clever” Emily remembered saying, when she thought back on the evening later. “A different character, not Dao, but Dao.”

  “Worst of all, grandfather loved her the more for it.”

  “I suppose it must have infuriated your father… and did she teach you to dance, too?”

  She noticed her companion and erstwhile savior standing alone on the edge of the dance floor, and pried herself loose from Wu Dao. The expression on Margie’s face did not bode well.

  “Do you know what you’re doing?”

  “I guess not.” Emily tried to focus on whatever it was Margie wanted to tell her, though it was difficult to give it her full attention. “He wants me to leave with him.”

  “That’s a really bad idea. You barely know him… and he has a terrible reputation. I can just see the news coverage tomorrow.”

  “He says we can slip out the side entrance. Zhi Zhi went to get the car.”

  “You’ve already made enough of a scene. There’s no way the photographers will let you slip out unnoticed.”

  “Does it really matter if they notice us?” Even Emily was surprised to hear these words come out of her mouth. Surely there was some reason she’d prefer not to have her picture splashed across the tabloids cavorting with a notorious playboy – even if they were Chinese tabloids – but she just couldn’t quite bring it into focus.

  “Fine. Come with me to the ladies room. Maybe if you wear my jacket, and I take your shawl… and we can take a side corridor through the north wing.”

  Emily waved Wu Dao over and explained Margie’s plan, such as it was and he nodded vigorously. A few minutes later, she emerged from a darkened doorway, and down a smaller staircase on the north end of the building. Wu Dao helped her into the back seat of a fancy German roadcar, and piled in after her. In the distance, the lights of another exit had captured the attention of the press, the departure of other VIPs, more well-known if less fashiona
ble tickled the current curiosity, a suitable diversion. Zhizheng eased the car onto the Outer Ring Road, and spun out the gears, weaving in and out of the late night traffic, which was considerably lighter than during the day. Soon she rested her head against Wu Dao’s shoulder, and peered out the side window.

  “Is this safe?” she asked.

  “You have to let Zhi Zhi have his little pleasures.”

  “Are we going anywhere in particular?”

  “Not as far as I can tell.” Wu Dao reached into the front to get Zhizheng’s attention. “Do you have a destination in mind?

  “We can drive until you guys have had enough. The Ring Road really is a circle, you know.”

  “It’s getting late,” Emily said, sitting up in the back seat, feeling the leather seat pucker off one shoulder. Had she been awake for the whole ride? “Why don’t you take me home. It’s an alley off Zhangzizhong Rd.”

  13

  How did it come to this?

  Twilight – the sun hadn’t risen yet, but the sky had begun to put on its morning blue, just enough to give the window shades a faint glow. Emily awoke with a snort and sat bolt upright in bed, head throbbing, and the sound of the shower running. “Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap.” She pulled a sheet off the bed as she rose to investigate. “Yes, there’s definitely a naked man in my shower.”

  She glanced at the shambles that was her bedroom and a new thought popped into her consciousness. “Oh, shit… the dress. Margie’s gonna kill me if it’s wrecked.” She kicked over some of the bedclothes that had found their way onto the floor, twisted around with urgent eyes, until she spotted it hanging in her closet, and Margie’s jacket had been folded neatly across the back of a chair. A turn around the apartment trailing the bed sheet didn’t do much to clear her head, so she leaned over and stuck her face under the tap in the kitchen.

  “I hope Mrs. Gao didn’t hear anything… if there was anything to hear.” The strangest thoughts occur to someone in the interval between sleep and wakefulness. She pulled the shade back just enough to peek out onto the neighborhood. “Looks like no one else is up,” she muttered. “I better go face the situation.”

  No steam in the bathroom – how odd. She opened the utility closet and saw that he hadn’t flipped the switch on the water heater, which she proceeded to do. “It’ll take a few minutes to get warm, but it’s better than nothing.” What next? Confront him? But the evening had begun so well… no need to end it on a sour note. “I guess there’s only one thing to do.”

  Emily shed the bed sheet that had served as her morning gown, pulled the curtain aside and stepped into the shower.

  “Holy shit, that’s cold.”

  “Did I mention that I come from a long line of Daoists… I mean except for my father?” Wu Dao turned to look at her, soap on his neck and a mop of wet hair across his face. She pushed it aside, and kissed him, shivering.

  “Well, then, my spiritual friend, do you mind telling me how we ended up here?”

  “You mean in your apartment? Zhi Zhi dropped us off last night… and don’t worry, he left us at the corner, so no one’s the wiser.”

  “My landlady has good ears… and that’s not what I meant.”

  “Oh, you mean how did we end up in this shower together?”

  “That’ll do for a start.”

  “You’re the one who invited me in for… how did you describe it... a ‘nightcap’… which was peculiar, since you don’t have anything to drink up here, other than some green tea.”

  “Oh… yeah. I’m not much of a drinker.”

  “You could have fooled me. Zhi Zhi thought you were going to drink the two of us under the table.”

  “… and what became of him?”

  “Zhi Zhi had to get home by midnight. He takes care of his mother, and the nurse leaves at the stroke of twelve – that’s how you say it, isn’t it? He splits the duty with his sister, alternate weeks… and don’t worry about the noise. These old factory buildings were built out of concrete and masonry blocks. There’s no way your landlady heard anything.” Then he pointed to a vent in the ceiling of the shower. “But the bathrooms typically share ductwork, and sound can travel a long way through them.” He was whispering now, and pressed a finger to his lips. One last rinse to get the soap off, and he tried to slip through the curtain, until Emily pulled him back for one more kiss.

  How peculiar the gadabout son of a billionaire turns out to be. Emily wondered how much of a man’s character was visible in his choice of friends. She remembered a few snatches of conversation from last night, and let the water splash off her shoulders, now that it was beginning to get warm. Something about how his grandfather disapproved of his father, and she wasn’t sure, but she suspected Wu Dao preferred the grandfather.

  He was fully dressed by the time she left the shower, perhaps a bit incongruous in a tuxedo at this hour of the morning. The twilight had already given way to the first rays of the morning.

  “I better go before your neighbors begin to stir. If they see me in this get up, it won’t do wonders for your reputation.”

  “How will you get home at this hour? There won’t be any taxis out yet.” Emily pulled on a running suit, stuffed her standard black-pants outfit into a pack, and rummaged on the chairs for the matching jacket.

  “Are you going somewhere?” Wu Dao asked.

  “This is my running time. I need to stay in shape.”

  “Well, I think you’re succeeding. I don’t think I’ve met a woman as… solid as you.” He caught himself before putting the other foot in his mouth. “I mean, you look great… you’re really fit… I mean, there’s no fat…”

  “I know what you mean.” She tugged on the lapel of his jacket and stretched up to kiss him one more time. “Now get out of here before I think better of it.”

  Wu Dao moved to the door, and took a breath to settle himself before venturing into the corridor. The door hadn’t clicked shut before he stuck his head back into the apartment, gesturing to the writing desk by the window. “I put your pearls in that drawer… you know, to keep them from getting stepped on.” A moment later he was gone, and Emily rushed across the room to check on Mrs. Bambrough’s pearls, dangling them from two fingers to check the length of each strand. She breathed easier once she’d ascertained that nothing was amiss.

  “That would be all I need… to give Jepsen and Redmond something to ring me up for… and Margie would never forgive me.”

  Her thoughts turned to Wu Dao again, and she raised the window shade all the way to watch for his lithe frame tripping down the alley. Something about the way he moved exercised her imagination, and she wondered how long she could just bask in the afterglow of it all.

  It probably didn’t make much sense to the Chinese who needed visas, or had other business at the NEC, that the embassy wasn’t open on Sundays. At least, it wasn’t open to the public, but work still went on, and even though Emily didn’t have any particular assignment for today, she set off in that direction anyway, with the pearls wrapped in a bit of cloth and tucked at the bottom of her pack.

  She’d barely cleared the first two blocks of Dongsi Street when the embassy phone beeped. She growled, and stopped to dig it out of the pack. Who’d be calling her before 0600, and on this phone – of course, there was only one person who would need to take the liberty, and it softened her response to be reminded of it.

  “Hi, Margie. What’s up?”

  “Are you okay, Capt Tenno?” It only just occurred to Emily at that moment, and from the quiver in Margie’s voice, that she only knew that clumsy title.

  “I’m fine, and please, call me Michiko, or just Em for short. That’s what all my friends call me.”

  “I was so worried about you last night. I never should have let you go with those guys.”

  “Don’t worry,” she said, trying for a reassuring tone… though Margie hardly noticed.

  “It’s just, maotai is really strong, and it kinda snuck up on me. I’m so sorry. I should have b
een a better friend.”

  “Really, don’t trouble yourself about it. I was completely safe with them. They’re actually really sweet… as dissolute playboys go.” Emily paused to let Margie digest what she’d said. “I hope there wasn’t any trouble with DSS, you know, because I left on my own.”

  The silence on the other end of the connection was worrisome, and Emily wondered if she’d been the bad friend in this relationship, new as it was.

  “No… at least, I don’t think so… I smoothed it over, but you may get a few questions when you come in. It’s nothing serious… I think.”

  “I’m a sturdy girl, Margie. I can handle a few questions… and it’s not like I did anything wrong, is it?”

  “Well, it’s just… the Wu family, they’re not just anyone. If you’re seen around town with Wu Wei’s son, it’s going to attract attention, you know, from the press, the paparazzi… and the Ambassador doesn’t like his staff to get noticed, in that way.”

  “So you’re saying I went from hero to goat in one day?”

  “I’m sure it’s not that bad… and I should have warned you. Anyway, you’re not likely to see him again anyway, what with his reputation, and if the press didn’t get any pictures of you leaving last night… I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

  Of course, Emily wasn’t quite as confident about how fine it would be, especially since she had a feeling Wu Dao would not disappear from her life as quickly as Margie hoped. “I’ll be at the NEC in about an hour, so maybe I’ll see you there today.” She waited for a response, but it seemed to take some extra time to process the concept of working on a Sunday… or with a hangover, or maybe both.

  “Are you serious. You’re gonna be at work at 7:00 am, on a weekend, after staying up ’til God knows when… and how do you not have as bad a headache as I do?”

  “I don’t know. What else am I supposed to do? Anyway, I’m just gonna finish my run and shower in the Marine House, you know, like I do every morning.”

  A loud groan reverberated from the earpiece, and then Margie’s voice recovered the ability to make articulate sounds. “Remind me never to party with a Marine again. I don’t know what I was thinking.”