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"The Kamikaze Bugs"
"Kamikaze Bugs"
1/22/2013
I.
At one-thirty in the morning, Sheng sat at his desk and watched Uncle Pao go through his Tai Chi form. The old man moved smoothly around the center of the office in white-stockinged feet, having left his shoes by his own smaller desk off to the side. Only five foot three and not much over a hundred pounds, Pao slowly went through the pushing and swiveling motions without any apparent stiffness or strain. He had started Tai Chi as a teenager and seldom missed going through the form at least once a day. At seventy-five, he still walked without a cane and went up and down stairs with confidence. His last annual physical had produced approval from his doctor.
Careful not to make any sudden motion or noise that might be distracting, Sheng Mo-Yuan smiled at the familiar sight. Uncle Pao was not really his uncle of course; coming from the adjacent realm of Chujir, Sheng had no relatives in this real world. But the coincidence of their last names had been enough for Pao to insist on attaching himself to Sheng and working in the FIST FOR HIRE office. To be honest, Sheng had quickly become fond of the cantankerous old man and he realized he himself had been lonely for some sort of family here. His KDF teammates were great, he valued their friendship, but Uncle Pao was culturally and tempramentally so much like the people of Chujir...
Their detective agency kept the unusual hours of 12 AM to 9 AM because Sheng had found that this was when his clients were most likely to be in desperate need of help. The Midnight War was well named. That hour was when creatures of the night stalked the dingy alleys and poorly lit back streets of lower Manhattan as they had menaced Humans since the beginning of time.
As Pao went over to sit down at his own desk and started lacing on his shoes again, he glanced over at Sheng. >"You see,"< he said in Cantonese, >"If Americans only had the discipline of Tai Chi Chuan, they would not all carry bellies that seem ready to give birth to twins."<
"I can't argue with that," Sheng replied. "I only hope I am as flexible as you when I reach your age, uncle. You move like a teenager."
Taking up his copy of the Chinese-language newspaper THE WORLD off his desk, Pao rustled its pages more noisily than seemed necessary. He tried not to show it, but the compliment pleased him immensely. "Ehh. Last night saw no customers for your agency, and tonight seems unfortunately to be as quiet. This does not put money in your savings account."
"Something always turns up..." Sheng began but paused. Two floors below, the street door of the Hartwicke Building had slammed and he heard rapid footsteps coming up the stairs. "Hah! What did I tell you?"
"No divorce cases, please," Uncle Pao told him sternly. "Too much crying and bad language."
"What?! When have I ever taken a divorce case?" Sheng stood and straightened the jacket of his tan suit, then adjusted the dark brown tie. He liked dressing well and had his suits tailored to fit perfectly. Although he didn't mention it to anyone, lately Sheng had been buying dress shoes a size larger than what he normally wore and putting two-inch heel lifts inside them. At five feet five, he had been of average height back in Chujir but here in New York City he too often felt at a psychological disadvantage dealing with six-footers.
Through the open office door, a slender woman about twenty poked her head in as if expecting to be yelled at. She said, "Excuse me? Sorry for coming here so late, but you ARE Mr Argent? This is the Argent Detective Agency?"
"Please, come right in," Sheng said, motioning for her to enter. "Actually, my name is Sheng Mo-Yuan and this is my Uncle Pao. These are the hours we keep, so you're welcome to come in. Can we help you?"
"Oh I do hope so." She spun back around to stare at the hallway behind her, the long curly black hair swinging in her wake. Her dark eyes fixed on Sheng like magnets. "I hope I have not been followed. Mr Sheng? My name is Demure. Demure McLaughlin. I've read about you in the papers, you and your Fist For Hire business. There's gossip you can turn bulletproof or strong enough to flip a car over. You're supposed to be, well, superhuman."
"Nothing so grand," Sheng dismissed the thought. "We all have our gifts, I've been lucky."
>"Oh, another pretty young girl for a client,"< scoffed Uncle Pao. >"Be sure the window is closed so your brains don't fly out the window."<
"Yes. Thank you, uncle," Sheng said absently. He came over to touch the back of a plain wooden chair in front of his desk and held it for the girl. On her way, Demure tripped apparently over her own feet and lost her balance. Luckily, Sheng was right there, so she clutched at his lower arms and caught herself in time with a mumbled apology. When their visitor had seated herself, the Chujiran detective returned to his own swivel chair and said, "So. What is urgent enough that you come out so late at night to see us?"
"It's about the death of the man I was working for," Demure McLaughlin replied with a noticeable tremor in her voice. "Dr Wendell Petruski of Columbia University. It's horrible. Have you heard about it?"
"No, I don't think there was anything in the news about it. Nothing that I saw anyway. What makes his death so horrible?"
"That big discolored dent in his forehead. The black foam from his mouth. No one has a clue about how he died!"
II.
"I'll have to talk fast," she continued. "I'm sure I saw somebody following me at the subway platform. Dr Petruski spoke English but not well enough that he felt confident in his writing. He liked to have someone go over his letters and articles for grammatical errors. Some slang escaped him. I was glad to help out for a little extra credit..What was that?!"
Sheng stood up again and motioned for silence as he stalked over to the office door. After listening for an endless thirty seconds, he said, "Please continue, miss."
"Are you sure? Okay. I went to Dr Petruski's house in Queens this afternoon. I was bringing him some papers I had corrected and he had more for me that had to be done immediately. There were three police cars there. Flashing lights. Yellow tape. A body could be seen under a white sheet, that is, the outlines of a body. Two men in suits knew who I was. They started asking me questions. Over and over--"
>"I met a woman once who spoke the truth,"< interrupted Uncle Pao. >"It took me by surprise."<
Suddenly, Sheng swung out into the hall. A man tumbled violently into the center of the office, whirling across the bare wood floor and coming up hard against the desk right next to Demure's leg. The young woman yelp and jumped back, knocking over her chair.
"You must have had a good reason for standing right outside my door in the middle of the night," the Chujiran said with remarkable mildness to the intruder .
"Huh? What?" The man stammered, struggled up to his feet and backed away toward the far wall of the office under the fan window. "How did you do that? I'm twice your size!" This was not literally true, since the intruder was six feet two and maybe two hundred and forty pounds but the difference between him and Sheng was considerable. The man seemed young as Demure, no more than twenty-one, and he had a buzz cut that left his head almost shaved. He wore a grey sweatshirt that read PUMAS in yellow block letters.
"Let's have a name first." Sheng gestured with his hand towards the man, palm up and fingers curling into a fist.
"Sure. Sure. Demure knows me, don't you honey?"
"I am NOT your 'honey,'" she said. "Mr Sheng, this is a classmate, Willie Klumper. He's been following me around like a lost puppy all semester."
"Aw, be fair..."
Sheng stepped forward and his voice had a new edge to it. "Stop that! You're in real danger of getting hurt, young man. I'll ask again. What were you doing in the hall?"
Willie seemed genuinely terrified of the smaller man but then a few seconds ago Sheng had lifted him off the floor with one hand and thrown him across the office. "I was hoping Demure would have time for lunch after she was done with the doc. I know a little Italian bistro in that neighborhood. Then after what happened to Petruski, I figured I should keep an eye on her."
"You're wasting your time. And mine," she snapped. "Go away. Stay away."
Straightening his sweatshirt, the student stuck his hands in his jeans pockets, took a deep breath and unexpectedly took three running steps to tackle Sheng. He didn't have a chance of accomplishing anything. With smoothness from years of Kumundu training, Sheng flung him over one hip in a sloppy cartwheel back out into the hall. Willie scrambled up onto his feet and took off down the stairs two steps at a time.
"Oh, don't hurt him," called Demure. "He doesn't mean any harm. He's just lovesick."
Turning back from the doorway, Sheng saw Uncle Pao had crossed over to stand by the window that looked down at lower Canal Street. "Do you see him, Uncle?"
>"Yes indeed. Heh heh, a rabbit could not run more quickly. He is already two blocks away."<
"What did he say? I don't happen to speak Chinese, you know," Demure said.
"Please excuse my uncle," Sheng told her, coming back to lean up against his desk. "He forgets English when he's excited. Maybe we can get back to Dr Petruski's death..." He paused and sniffed. What was that sickly over-sweet odor? He glanced around, then raised his sleeve. The smell was coming from a small sticky spot near his cuff. That was odd.
>"NOW what?"< demanded Uncle Pao, still using Cantonese. >"Can you concentrate on your business, please?"<
Sheng did not reply. He had learned to trust his instincts and something about the whole scene with Willie set off alarms in his head. The way the boy had tackled him, without anything to gain and a chance of getting hurt, was wrong. The detective examined his sleeve again. That goo had definitely not been there before...
There was a weird buzzing noise in the hall. Sheng swung around and the biggest green wasp he had ever seen cracked right against his face like a bullet.
III.
But over the past few years, Sheng Mo-Yuan had developed the habit of assuming his enhanced durability at the first sign of any attack. Remembering what he had heard of Petruski's death, the Chujiran drew on his Argent gift and channeled gralic force to reinforce every cell of his body. His muscles became like granite, his skin like living steel and the wasp bounced off his forehead with a crisp smacking noise.
Even though he had not been harmed, Sheng said "Ow," out of habit. He had certainly been stung a few times in his life and it was a natural response. Demure McLaughlin had screamed and run over to grab his head and examine it.
"You're... you're not hurt? What a relief? What WAS that thing? Some sort of slingshot pellet? I didn't hear a gun go off." She visibly relaxed and let go of his head but slid her hands down to grip his shoulders and Sheng did not seem inclined at all to object to the contact.
Using a folded page of his newspaper, Uncle Pao knelt and scooped up the dead insect. The hornet was well over an inch long with a dark green body that had orange rings on the abdomen. The wings were transparent. The creature was bent backwards so far that it seemed evident it had killed itself in its strike against Sheng. Pao found the detached stinger on the floor and was exceedingly careful as he brushed it onto the paper. "This is not an Asian giant hornet. I have seen them. This is a real brute."
"I don't recognize it either," Sheng said after a moment. "Sheesh. It's a good thing I switched to toughness. The venom from a bug like that is probably what killed Dr Petruski."
Leaning up against the Chujiran, Demure McLaughlin made a disgusted noise. "Don't you think that this hornet flies so fast that it kills itself when it hits its target? Look how its back is broken."
"Like those idiot Japanese pilots during the war," Uncle Pao spat. "These are Kamikaze Bugs."
Sheng had rummaged through his desk and came back with a small cardboard box that had once held a charger for Pao's phone. "Let's keep it in here for now. Miss McLaughlin, I suppose the police kept you for some questioning?"
"You're not kidding," she replied. "The same questions over and over, they're worse than my mother. But I had been in class and then at the gym, and five or six people will vouch that I was nowhere near the scene where the doctor... died."
Locking the box with the dead hornet in his desk, Sheng let a resigned sigh escape. "I suppose the first obvious thing to ask you is, did he have any enemies? Anyone who would want to harm him?"
"Oh, sure," she said. "Lots. He fought with everyone. I got along with Dr Petruski, but nobody on the faculty could stand him."
"Really. That doesn't narrow possible suspects. Uncle, do you want to come with us?"
"You always benefit from my advice," the old man answered. "Especially when a pretty face clouds your mind."
"Where are we going?" the girl asked.
"We are going to see where your smitten fellow student went after I tossed him out of here." Sheng had unclipped the Link from his belt and was studying its screen. "He hasn't gone far. His signal's stationary."
Demure leaned up against him, as she seemed to enjoy doing, and stared down at the flat metal device. "What the heck kind of a phone is that? Is that a Moto? What is that blip on the screen?"
"That dot represents Willie Klumper. He seems to be about six blocks from here and he shows no signs of moving further away. Are you ready, Uncle?"
The older man had tugged on a well-worn yellow cardigan which had been draped over the back of his chair. "We should take your little red car in case."
"You just like driving my Italia," Sheng said. "And I found out your license expired five years ago, which you hadn't mentioned." Sheng paused a moment longer to dig around in his desk and came up with something he tucked into the back of his belt where his suit jacket concealed it. As Demure and Pao stepped out into the hall, he turned off the office lights and closed the door behind them. Low clicks and buzzes assured him that the Trom alarms which Megan Salenger had insisted on installing herself were activated. It had been all he could do to keep her from placing MRI-level scanners in the entrance to his office.
On the corner of Mott Street, they turned right. Uncle Pao was complaining about how the fine old Lucky Pearl gift shop had been gutted and replaced by a shiny chrome and glass Credit Union. He went into great detail about how this city was losing its character and turning into a family-friendly giant resort. Sheng kept consulting his Link and led them onto a narrow side street where suddenly there were tendrils of fog drifting around them.
It had been a warm sultry September day with a gust of cold drizzle in the evening, so fog was a natural result. Yet it seemed to stir Demure McLaughlin oddly. "Wow, it really looks like a murder mystery now," she said. "So cool."
At the next corner, Sheng Mo-Yuan blinked at the unfamiliar sign. Hampton Street? That was funny. He had been walking this neighborhood the past few years and he would have thought he had a decent grasp of the area but he didn't recognize Hampton Street. Nor were the dingy brick buildings familiar to him. He mentioned this and Uncle Pao replied with an utterly serious tone, "Chinatowns all over the world have peculiar little pockets and byways," he declared. "On nights like this, anything might happen."
"Stop it, you're giving me the creeps," Demure said. "Mr Sheng, can you explain something to me? How can your phone track Willie that way? I don't get it."
Sheng was staring at a darkened window that read HAPPY DUCK- GENUINE SZECHUAN CUISINE in faux-Asian lettering, with a portrait of a demented-looking cartoon duck leering at them. He definitely would have remembered this restaurant, especially since it was only a minute's walk from his office. The Chujiran detective shook himself and forced his attention back to the young woman at his elbow. "Oh, that. That was nothing," he said. "I was hoping for an opportunity to plant a tracer on your boyfriend and when he tried to tackle me, I stuck one inside of his collar. He may not notice it for a long time."
"He is NOT my boyfriend! So, you plant little transmitters on people? That's bold. Say... Did you stick one on me anywhere?"
With a smirk no one saw in the foggy gloom, Sheng replied, "Oh, I wouldn't tell you if I did. You're not my client, Miss McLaughlin. You haven't even mentioned hiring me or setting up a retainer."
"Another dangerous case with no money in sight," Uncle Pao mumbled.
"Yes, thank you, Uncle," said Sheng. "Anyway, it seems to me that Willie is in that building across the street. Whether he's your boyfriend or not."
They were facing a six-story structure of chipped and stained red brick, with air conditioners in many windows suggesting apartments occupied much of the building. On the ground floor were two adjoining doors, a brass plaque on one reading NEW YORK ENTOMOLOGICAL SOCIETY. Taped below that was a piece of cardboard, TEMPORARILY CLOSED FOR RENOVATIONS.
IV.
Behind Sheng, Uncle Pao was scowling at his phone. "According to the Google, this is a genuine research and historical society. Established in 1957 to study bugs. Its administrator is Dr Onslow Fredmont Kittinger. A white man, as if the ridiculous name did not already tell you that."
"Very good," Sheng replied. "Thank you, uncle. Anything else?"
Switching back to Cantonese, the old man grumbled, >"This child is listed as having graduated White Plains High School two years ago. Or at least, someone named Demure Lisa McLaughlin did. I have warned you before about investigating suspects AND clients."<
"What the heck is he talking about now?" asked Demure. "I don't think it's polite to go on that way in a language I can't understand."
"Oh. Sorry, miss, my uncle is set in his ways. He is trying to find out more about that killer hornet that attacked us." The Chujiran detective unbuttoned his suit jacket and put his hands in his trouser pockets as he stared at the building. A few windows on the upper floors showed lights. "Do you know this Kittinger fellow?"
"Not personally. Dr Petruski had a snippy old-man's feud going on with him, but that's no surprise... Dr Petruski couldn't get along with anyone." She took Sheng by the arm again and he did not immediately shake her hand off.
"You see the bit of light in that corner window?" Uncle Pao asked.
"Yeah. Looks like they painted the windows opaque but a little bit chipped off. I guess someone is in there." He began moving toward the door, with Demure and Pao close behind. "Miss, do you have your friend's number?"
"I should, he's texted me enough," she snorted. "Why?"
"Call him now. I'd like him distracted. If he answers, just ask what he was trying to pull earlier." He heard her lift her phone and then speak into it. Sheng pressed a Trom device to the keyhole. Thin metal tendrils inserted themselves into the lock, stiffened and rotated. The lock clicked and he opened the door to peer into a gloomy hallway. When he had first opened the Fist For Hire Agency, Sheng had resisted using gadgets like these which his teammate Megan Salenger had provided. He had wanted to be as much of a stereotyped private eye as possible. But sometimes the gimmicks were too convenient to pass up.
As Demure said something scornful to her phone, Sheng moved into the building and turned toward a door under which a thin yellow sliver of light showed. He took a deep breath and swung the door inward and strode boldly into the brightly lit room beyond as he heard Willie's voice saying plaintively, "Aw don't be like that, honey...."
And another of the huge wasps buzzed like lightning toward his face.
This time, the Chujiran had focused on speed rather than durability. His nervous system and muscles crackled up beyond normal Human limits. From the small of his back, he whipped up the yardstick he had taken from his desk and slapped the insect sharply to one side. Its body cracked up from the impact. The hornet hit the far wall and bounced to the floor.
Twirling the yardstick and pointing it like a weapon, Sheng said, "You! Don't move. Miss McLaughlin, come in here but I want Uncle Pao to remain out in the hall."
>"Another rash plan of yours dreamed up on the spot,"< the old man muttered unhappily but he did stay where he was. Demure came up next to Sheng, but the detective sidestepped her.
"Oh, no you don't," he told her. "Get over by your pal."
"I... I don't understand," she began to object but a stern glare from Sheng seemed to convince her. She walked slowly over to where Willie stood motionless.
The display room had glass-fronted cases along its walls, exhibiting hundreds of colorful insects. Charts and maps filled the spaces between the cabinets. Only two items were unusual. One was a clear plastic box three feet on each side, containing a swarm of the deadly hornets. Their irritated buzzing was deep and unnerving.
The other unexpected item in that room was a long wooden bench on which a corpse of a man was stretched out, its arms down by its sides. A plain white towel was draped over his face.
V.
Sheng smacked the yardstick against the open palm of his other hand. "And that of course is the late Dr Kittinger, right? I think it's time for the two of you to start explaining what you've been up to."
Letting out an exasperated sigh, Demure strolled over to stand beside Willie, who put an arm around her waist. Her face had turned cold, the smile on her lips was not evident in her eyes. "All right. Do it the difficult way. Tell him what he wants to find out, honey."
"Sure. Why not?" Willie rested his free hand on top of the clear container in which the enraged hornets were flying around. He tapped the handle of the front panel and drummed his fingers. "Let's see. Well, Dr kittinger knew all about the adjacent realms. He was fascinated by the Midnight War, he used to go on for hours about Chujir, where you came from. He contacted some very scary people and managed to do a little exploring in Okali. That's where these killer bugs come from. He bought twenty of them back here somehow."
"Makes sense," Sheng admitted. He quietly spread his feet further apart, shifting his weight so he could move quickly in any direction. "Okali seems to have nothing but weird and dangerous wildlife. Even the trees are carnivorous. So how do you kids fit into this mess?"
"Hey, I'm not a kid," Willie said. "I'm twenty-seven. Demure is the student. I work as an independent contractor for landscaping. Me and Demure have been together for a couple years now."
"That's right," she added. The young woman detached herself from her partner but remained close. "Now, Dr Petruski was hot for me. Can you blame him? He had it bad. Enough so that he put me on a joint checking account so I could handle his shopping and stuff, and of course I've been buying a few things for myself. I increased my salary bit by bit and he never noticed. It was a sweet deal but he was starting to drop hints about, well, sampling my goods. He had to go."
Behind him, Sheng heard a light footstep but he didn't take his eyes off the two killers. "Uncle, I told you to stay out in the hall."
"I want to hear this," the old man objected. "This is crime as old as the world. Ask them why that poor man on the table had to die."
Willie growled,"Look, what's the point of all this? Why are we explaining anything? You're not gonna live long enough to tell anyone." The big young man gestured angrily and pushed Demure behind him with one hand as he slid up the front panel of the case. A dozen of the huge Kamikaze Bugs sped out with a loud buzzing. But Sheng had tugged off his jacket and flung it right on top of Willie, covering the young man's head. In the same motion, the Chujiran adventurer sprang back through the doorway, grabbing Uncle Pao by one bony arm and slammed the door shut.
>"Don't break my arm, you wrestler!"< snapped the old man, nearly falling as he pulled himself loose.
Sheng exhaled and leaned up against the wall beside the door. Muffled but terrible, short screams rang out in the display room but quickly ended. "That was way too close. I was afraid one of those wasps might go for you instead of those murderers."
>"Your concern is greatly appreciated."< Switching back to English, Pao continued. "But, nephew, I really am grateful you thought of my safety. Perhaps I should have stayed out here as you told me?"
"Heh. If you ever start following my instructions, I will think you are an imposter. Uncle, those two are surely dead now. This is going to be ugly work, but I must switch to invulnerability and go in there to destroy those insects. Before we call the police, we don't want officers getting their foreheads smashed in."
"Crushing hornets is time well spent," Pao said. He spotted a chair a little further down the hall and lowered himself gingerly onto it. "I would like to sit. So, evidently you knew your jacket was what attracted the bugs?"
"Yeah, I was pretty sure right away. Willie had a chance to smear something on me when I threw him out of the office, but I think it was Demure who did it. She kept holding my arm and I figure that's when she rubbed something on my sleeves that drew the hornets. Not sure what it was, though."
Uncle Pao raised an admonishing finger. "There is one MORE thing you should have learned. Why did they involve you in the first place? Why even try to kill you when you knew nothing about them? Hah? My friend Harry Hung would have gotten that information out of them and more. I should ask him if he would consider giving you lessons you obviously need."
Despite everything that had happened that night, Sheng Mo-Yuan smiled. "Thank you, Uncle."
3/27/2020
1/22/2013
I.
At one-thirty in the morning, Sheng sat at his desk and watched Uncle Pao go through his Tai Chi form. The old man moved smoothly around the center of the office in white-stockinged feet, having left his shoes by his own smaller desk off to the side. Only five foot three and not much over a hundred pounds, Pao slowly went through the pushing and swiveling motions without any apparent stiffness or strain. He had started Tai Chi as a teenager and seldom missed going through the form at least once a day. At seventy-five, he still walked without a cane and went up and down stairs with confidence. His last annual physical had produced approval from his doctor.
Careful not to make any sudden motion or noise that might be distracting, Sheng Mo-Yuan smiled at the familiar sight. Uncle Pao was not really his uncle of course; coming from the adjacent realm of Chujir, Sheng had no relatives in this real world. But the coincidence of their last names had been enough for Pao to insist on attaching himself to Sheng and working in the FIST FOR HIRE office. To be honest, Sheng had quickly become fond of the cantankerous old man and he realized he himself had been lonely for some sort of family here. His KDF teammates were great, he valued their friendship, but Uncle Pao was culturally and tempramentally so much like the people of Chujir...
Their detective agency kept the unusual hours of 12 AM to 9 AM because Sheng had found that this was when his clients were most likely to be in desperate need of help. The Midnight War was well named. That hour was when creatures of the night stalked the dingy alleys and poorly lit back streets of lower Manhattan as they had menaced Humans since the beginning of time.
As Pao went over to sit down at his own desk and started lacing on his shoes again, he glanced over at Sheng. >"You see,"< he said in Cantonese, >"If Americans only had the discipline of Tai Chi Chuan, they would not all carry bellies that seem ready to give birth to twins."<
"I can't argue with that," Sheng replied. "I only hope I am as flexible as you when I reach your age, uncle. You move like a teenager."
Taking up his copy of the Chinese-language newspaper THE WORLD off his desk, Pao rustled its pages more noisily than seemed necessary. He tried not to show it, but the compliment pleased him immensely. "Ehh. Last night saw no customers for your agency, and tonight seems unfortunately to be as quiet. This does not put money in your savings account."
"Something always turns up..." Sheng began but paused. Two floors below, the street door of the Hartwicke Building had slammed and he heard rapid footsteps coming up the stairs. "Hah! What did I tell you?"
"No divorce cases, please," Uncle Pao told him sternly. "Too much crying and bad language."
"What?! When have I ever taken a divorce case?" Sheng stood and straightened the jacket of his tan suit, then adjusted the dark brown tie. He liked dressing well and had his suits tailored to fit perfectly. Although he didn't mention it to anyone, lately Sheng had been buying dress shoes a size larger than what he normally wore and putting two-inch heel lifts inside them. At five feet five, he had been of average height back in Chujir but here in New York City he too often felt at a psychological disadvantage dealing with six-footers.
Through the open office door, a slender woman about twenty poked her head in as if expecting to be yelled at. She said, "Excuse me? Sorry for coming here so late, but you ARE Mr Argent? This is the Argent Detective Agency?"
"Please, come right in," Sheng said, motioning for her to enter. "Actually, my name is Sheng Mo-Yuan and this is my Uncle Pao. These are the hours we keep, so you're welcome to come in. Can we help you?"
"Oh I do hope so." She spun back around to stare at the hallway behind her, the long curly black hair swinging in her wake. Her dark eyes fixed on Sheng like magnets. "I hope I have not been followed. Mr Sheng? My name is Demure. Demure McLaughlin. I've read about you in the papers, you and your Fist For Hire business. There's gossip you can turn bulletproof or strong enough to flip a car over. You're supposed to be, well, superhuman."
"Nothing so grand," Sheng dismissed the thought. "We all have our gifts, I've been lucky."
>"Oh, another pretty young girl for a client,"< scoffed Uncle Pao. >"Be sure the window is closed so your brains don't fly out the window."<
"Yes. Thank you, uncle," Sheng said absently. He came over to touch the back of a plain wooden chair in front of his desk and held it for the girl. On her way, Demure tripped apparently over her own feet and lost her balance. Luckily, Sheng was right there, so she clutched at his lower arms and caught herself in time with a mumbled apology. When their visitor had seated herself, the Chujiran detective returned to his own swivel chair and said, "So. What is urgent enough that you come out so late at night to see us?"
"It's about the death of the man I was working for," Demure McLaughlin replied with a noticeable tremor in her voice. "Dr Wendell Petruski of Columbia University. It's horrible. Have you heard about it?"
"No, I don't think there was anything in the news about it. Nothing that I saw anyway. What makes his death so horrible?"
"That big discolored dent in his forehead. The black foam from his mouth. No one has a clue about how he died!"
II.
"I'll have to talk fast," she continued. "I'm sure I saw somebody following me at the subway platform. Dr Petruski spoke English but not well enough that he felt confident in his writing. He liked to have someone go over his letters and articles for grammatical errors. Some slang escaped him. I was glad to help out for a little extra credit..What was that?!"
Sheng stood up again and motioned for silence as he stalked over to the office door. After listening for an endless thirty seconds, he said, "Please continue, miss."
"Are you sure? Okay. I went to Dr Petruski's house in Queens this afternoon. I was bringing him some papers I had corrected and he had more for me that had to be done immediately. There were three police cars there. Flashing lights. Yellow tape. A body could be seen under a white sheet, that is, the outlines of a body. Two men in suits knew who I was. They started asking me questions. Over and over--"
>"I met a woman once who spoke the truth,"< interrupted Uncle Pao. >"It took me by surprise."<
Suddenly, Sheng swung out into the hall. A man tumbled violently into the center of the office, whirling across the bare wood floor and coming up hard against the desk right next to Demure's leg. The young woman yelp and jumped back, knocking over her chair.
"You must have had a good reason for standing right outside my door in the middle of the night," the Chujiran said with remarkable mildness to the intruder .
"Huh? What?" The man stammered, struggled up to his feet and backed away toward the far wall of the office under the fan window. "How did you do that? I'm twice your size!" This was not literally true, since the intruder was six feet two and maybe two hundred and forty pounds but the difference between him and Sheng was considerable. The man seemed young as Demure, no more than twenty-one, and he had a buzz cut that left his head almost shaved. He wore a grey sweatshirt that read PUMAS in yellow block letters.
"Let's have a name first." Sheng gestured with his hand towards the man, palm up and fingers curling into a fist.
"Sure. Sure. Demure knows me, don't you honey?"
"I am NOT your 'honey,'" she said. "Mr Sheng, this is a classmate, Willie Klumper. He's been following me around like a lost puppy all semester."
"Aw, be fair..."
Sheng stepped forward and his voice had a new edge to it. "Stop that! You're in real danger of getting hurt, young man. I'll ask again. What were you doing in the hall?"
Willie seemed genuinely terrified of the smaller man but then a few seconds ago Sheng had lifted him off the floor with one hand and thrown him across the office. "I was hoping Demure would have time for lunch after she was done with the doc. I know a little Italian bistro in that neighborhood. Then after what happened to Petruski, I figured I should keep an eye on her."
"You're wasting your time. And mine," she snapped. "Go away. Stay away."
Straightening his sweatshirt, the student stuck his hands in his jeans pockets, took a deep breath and unexpectedly took three running steps to tackle Sheng. He didn't have a chance of accomplishing anything. With smoothness from years of Kumundu training, Sheng flung him over one hip in a sloppy cartwheel back out into the hall. Willie scrambled up onto his feet and took off down the stairs two steps at a time.
"Oh, don't hurt him," called Demure. "He doesn't mean any harm. He's just lovesick."
Turning back from the doorway, Sheng saw Uncle Pao had crossed over to stand by the window that looked down at lower Canal Street. "Do you see him, Uncle?"
>"Yes indeed. Heh heh, a rabbit could not run more quickly. He is already two blocks away."<
"What did he say? I don't happen to speak Chinese, you know," Demure said.
"Please excuse my uncle," Sheng told her, coming back to lean up against his desk. "He forgets English when he's excited. Maybe we can get back to Dr Petruski's death..." He paused and sniffed. What was that sickly over-sweet odor? He glanced around, then raised his sleeve. The smell was coming from a small sticky spot near his cuff. That was odd.
>"NOW what?"< demanded Uncle Pao, still using Cantonese. >"Can you concentrate on your business, please?"<
Sheng did not reply. He had learned to trust his instincts and something about the whole scene with Willie set off alarms in his head. The way the boy had tackled him, without anything to gain and a chance of getting hurt, was wrong. The detective examined his sleeve again. That goo had definitely not been there before...
There was a weird buzzing noise in the hall. Sheng swung around and the biggest green wasp he had ever seen cracked right against his face like a bullet.
III.
But over the past few years, Sheng Mo-Yuan had developed the habit of assuming his enhanced durability at the first sign of any attack. Remembering what he had heard of Petruski's death, the Chujiran drew on his Argent gift and channeled gralic force to reinforce every cell of his body. His muscles became like granite, his skin like living steel and the wasp bounced off his forehead with a crisp smacking noise.
Even though he had not been harmed, Sheng said "Ow," out of habit. He had certainly been stung a few times in his life and it was a natural response. Demure McLaughlin had screamed and run over to grab his head and examine it.
"You're... you're not hurt? What a relief? What WAS that thing? Some sort of slingshot pellet? I didn't hear a gun go off." She visibly relaxed and let go of his head but slid her hands down to grip his shoulders and Sheng did not seem inclined at all to object to the contact.
Using a folded page of his newspaper, Uncle Pao knelt and scooped up the dead insect. The hornet was well over an inch long with a dark green body that had orange rings on the abdomen. The wings were transparent. The creature was bent backwards so far that it seemed evident it had killed itself in its strike against Sheng. Pao found the detached stinger on the floor and was exceedingly careful as he brushed it onto the paper. "This is not an Asian giant hornet. I have seen them. This is a real brute."
"I don't recognize it either," Sheng said after a moment. "Sheesh. It's a good thing I switched to toughness. The venom from a bug like that is probably what killed Dr Petruski."
Leaning up against the Chujiran, Demure McLaughlin made a disgusted noise. "Don't you think that this hornet flies so fast that it kills itself when it hits its target? Look how its back is broken."
"Like those idiot Japanese pilots during the war," Uncle Pao spat. "These are Kamikaze Bugs."
Sheng had rummaged through his desk and came back with a small cardboard box that had once held a charger for Pao's phone. "Let's keep it in here for now. Miss McLaughlin, I suppose the police kept you for some questioning?"
"You're not kidding," she replied. "The same questions over and over, they're worse than my mother. But I had been in class and then at the gym, and five or six people will vouch that I was nowhere near the scene where the doctor... died."
Locking the box with the dead hornet in his desk, Sheng let a resigned sigh escape. "I suppose the first obvious thing to ask you is, did he have any enemies? Anyone who would want to harm him?"
"Oh, sure," she said. "Lots. He fought with everyone. I got along with Dr Petruski, but nobody on the faculty could stand him."
"Really. That doesn't narrow possible suspects. Uncle, do you want to come with us?"
"You always benefit from my advice," the old man answered. "Especially when a pretty face clouds your mind."
"Where are we going?" the girl asked.
"We are going to see where your smitten fellow student went after I tossed him out of here." Sheng had unclipped the Link from his belt and was studying its screen. "He hasn't gone far. His signal's stationary."
Demure leaned up against him, as she seemed to enjoy doing, and stared down at the flat metal device. "What the heck kind of a phone is that? Is that a Moto? What is that blip on the screen?"
"That dot represents Willie Klumper. He seems to be about six blocks from here and he shows no signs of moving further away. Are you ready, Uncle?"
The older man had tugged on a well-worn yellow cardigan which had been draped over the back of his chair. "We should take your little red car in case."
"You just like driving my Italia," Sheng said. "And I found out your license expired five years ago, which you hadn't mentioned." Sheng paused a moment longer to dig around in his desk and came up with something he tucked into the back of his belt where his suit jacket concealed it. As Demure and Pao stepped out into the hall, he turned off the office lights and closed the door behind them. Low clicks and buzzes assured him that the Trom alarms which Megan Salenger had insisted on installing herself were activated. It had been all he could do to keep her from placing MRI-level scanners in the entrance to his office.
On the corner of Mott Street, they turned right. Uncle Pao was complaining about how the fine old Lucky Pearl gift shop had been gutted and replaced by a shiny chrome and glass Credit Union. He went into great detail about how this city was losing its character and turning into a family-friendly giant resort. Sheng kept consulting his Link and led them onto a narrow side street where suddenly there were tendrils of fog drifting around them.
It had been a warm sultry September day with a gust of cold drizzle in the evening, so fog was a natural result. Yet it seemed to stir Demure McLaughlin oddly. "Wow, it really looks like a murder mystery now," she said. "So cool."
At the next corner, Sheng Mo-Yuan blinked at the unfamiliar sign. Hampton Street? That was funny. He had been walking this neighborhood the past few years and he would have thought he had a decent grasp of the area but he didn't recognize Hampton Street. Nor were the dingy brick buildings familiar to him. He mentioned this and Uncle Pao replied with an utterly serious tone, "Chinatowns all over the world have peculiar little pockets and byways," he declared. "On nights like this, anything might happen."
"Stop it, you're giving me the creeps," Demure said. "Mr Sheng, can you explain something to me? How can your phone track Willie that way? I don't get it."
Sheng was staring at a darkened window that read HAPPY DUCK- GENUINE SZECHUAN CUISINE in faux-Asian lettering, with a portrait of a demented-looking cartoon duck leering at them. He definitely would have remembered this restaurant, especially since it was only a minute's walk from his office. The Chujiran detective shook himself and forced his attention back to the young woman at his elbow. "Oh, that. That was nothing," he said. "I was hoping for an opportunity to plant a tracer on your boyfriend and when he tried to tackle me, I stuck one inside of his collar. He may not notice it for a long time."
"He is NOT my boyfriend! So, you plant little transmitters on people? That's bold. Say... Did you stick one on me anywhere?"
With a smirk no one saw in the foggy gloom, Sheng replied, "Oh, I wouldn't tell you if I did. You're not my client, Miss McLaughlin. You haven't even mentioned hiring me or setting up a retainer."
"Another dangerous case with no money in sight," Uncle Pao mumbled.
"Yes, thank you, Uncle," said Sheng. "Anyway, it seems to me that Willie is in that building across the street. Whether he's your boyfriend or not."
They were facing a six-story structure of chipped and stained red brick, with air conditioners in many windows suggesting apartments occupied much of the building. On the ground floor were two adjoining doors, a brass plaque on one reading NEW YORK ENTOMOLOGICAL SOCIETY. Taped below that was a piece of cardboard, TEMPORARILY CLOSED FOR RENOVATIONS.
IV.
Behind Sheng, Uncle Pao was scowling at his phone. "According to the Google, this is a genuine research and historical society. Established in 1957 to study bugs. Its administrator is Dr Onslow Fredmont Kittinger. A white man, as if the ridiculous name did not already tell you that."
"Very good," Sheng replied. "Thank you, uncle. Anything else?"
Switching back to Cantonese, the old man grumbled, >"This child is listed as having graduated White Plains High School two years ago. Or at least, someone named Demure Lisa McLaughlin did. I have warned you before about investigating suspects AND clients."<
"What the heck is he talking about now?" asked Demure. "I don't think it's polite to go on that way in a language I can't understand."
"Oh. Sorry, miss, my uncle is set in his ways. He is trying to find out more about that killer hornet that attacked us." The Chujiran detective unbuttoned his suit jacket and put his hands in his trouser pockets as he stared at the building. A few windows on the upper floors showed lights. "Do you know this Kittinger fellow?"
"Not personally. Dr Petruski had a snippy old-man's feud going on with him, but that's no surprise... Dr Petruski couldn't get along with anyone." She took Sheng by the arm again and he did not immediately shake her hand off.
"You see the bit of light in that corner window?" Uncle Pao asked.
"Yeah. Looks like they painted the windows opaque but a little bit chipped off. I guess someone is in there." He began moving toward the door, with Demure and Pao close behind. "Miss, do you have your friend's number?"
"I should, he's texted me enough," she snorted. "Why?"
"Call him now. I'd like him distracted. If he answers, just ask what he was trying to pull earlier." He heard her lift her phone and then speak into it. Sheng pressed a Trom device to the keyhole. Thin metal tendrils inserted themselves into the lock, stiffened and rotated. The lock clicked and he opened the door to peer into a gloomy hallway. When he had first opened the Fist For Hire Agency, Sheng had resisted using gadgets like these which his teammate Megan Salenger had provided. He had wanted to be as much of a stereotyped private eye as possible. But sometimes the gimmicks were too convenient to pass up.
As Demure said something scornful to her phone, Sheng moved into the building and turned toward a door under which a thin yellow sliver of light showed. He took a deep breath and swung the door inward and strode boldly into the brightly lit room beyond as he heard Willie's voice saying plaintively, "Aw don't be like that, honey...."
And another of the huge wasps buzzed like lightning toward his face.
This time, the Chujiran had focused on speed rather than durability. His nervous system and muscles crackled up beyond normal Human limits. From the small of his back, he whipped up the yardstick he had taken from his desk and slapped the insect sharply to one side. Its body cracked up from the impact. The hornet hit the far wall and bounced to the floor.
Twirling the yardstick and pointing it like a weapon, Sheng said, "You! Don't move. Miss McLaughlin, come in here but I want Uncle Pao to remain out in the hall."
>"Another rash plan of yours dreamed up on the spot,"< the old man muttered unhappily but he did stay where he was. Demure came up next to Sheng, but the detective sidestepped her.
"Oh, no you don't," he told her. "Get over by your pal."
"I... I don't understand," she began to object but a stern glare from Sheng seemed to convince her. She walked slowly over to where Willie stood motionless.
The display room had glass-fronted cases along its walls, exhibiting hundreds of colorful insects. Charts and maps filled the spaces between the cabinets. Only two items were unusual. One was a clear plastic box three feet on each side, containing a swarm of the deadly hornets. Their irritated buzzing was deep and unnerving.
The other unexpected item in that room was a long wooden bench on which a corpse of a man was stretched out, its arms down by its sides. A plain white towel was draped over his face.
V.
Sheng smacked the yardstick against the open palm of his other hand. "And that of course is the late Dr Kittinger, right? I think it's time for the two of you to start explaining what you've been up to."
Letting out an exasperated sigh, Demure strolled over to stand beside Willie, who put an arm around her waist. Her face had turned cold, the smile on her lips was not evident in her eyes. "All right. Do it the difficult way. Tell him what he wants to find out, honey."
"Sure. Why not?" Willie rested his free hand on top of the clear container in which the enraged hornets were flying around. He tapped the handle of the front panel and drummed his fingers. "Let's see. Well, Dr kittinger knew all about the adjacent realms. He was fascinated by the Midnight War, he used to go on for hours about Chujir, where you came from. He contacted some very scary people and managed to do a little exploring in Okali. That's where these killer bugs come from. He bought twenty of them back here somehow."
"Makes sense," Sheng admitted. He quietly spread his feet further apart, shifting his weight so he could move quickly in any direction. "Okali seems to have nothing but weird and dangerous wildlife. Even the trees are carnivorous. So how do you kids fit into this mess?"
"Hey, I'm not a kid," Willie said. "I'm twenty-seven. Demure is the student. I work as an independent contractor for landscaping. Me and Demure have been together for a couple years now."
"That's right," she added. The young woman detached herself from her partner but remained close. "Now, Dr Petruski was hot for me. Can you blame him? He had it bad. Enough so that he put me on a joint checking account so I could handle his shopping and stuff, and of course I've been buying a few things for myself. I increased my salary bit by bit and he never noticed. It was a sweet deal but he was starting to drop hints about, well, sampling my goods. He had to go."
Behind him, Sheng heard a light footstep but he didn't take his eyes off the two killers. "Uncle, I told you to stay out in the hall."
"I want to hear this," the old man objected. "This is crime as old as the world. Ask them why that poor man on the table had to die."
Willie growled,"Look, what's the point of all this? Why are we explaining anything? You're not gonna live long enough to tell anyone." The big young man gestured angrily and pushed Demure behind him with one hand as he slid up the front panel of the case. A dozen of the huge Kamikaze Bugs sped out with a loud buzzing. But Sheng had tugged off his jacket and flung it right on top of Willie, covering the young man's head. In the same motion, the Chujiran adventurer sprang back through the doorway, grabbing Uncle Pao by one bony arm and slammed the door shut.
>"Don't break my arm, you wrestler!"< snapped the old man, nearly falling as he pulled himself loose.
Sheng exhaled and leaned up against the wall beside the door. Muffled but terrible, short screams rang out in the display room but quickly ended. "That was way too close. I was afraid one of those wasps might go for you instead of those murderers."
>"Your concern is greatly appreciated."< Switching back to English, Pao continued. "But, nephew, I really am grateful you thought of my safety. Perhaps I should have stayed out here as you told me?"
"Heh. If you ever start following my instructions, I will think you are an imposter. Uncle, those two are surely dead now. This is going to be ugly work, but I must switch to invulnerability and go in there to destroy those insects. Before we call the police, we don't want officers getting their foreheads smashed in."
"Crushing hornets is time well spent," Pao said. He spotted a chair a little further down the hall and lowered himself gingerly onto it. "I would like to sit. So, evidently you knew your jacket was what attracted the bugs?"
"Yeah, I was pretty sure right away. Willie had a chance to smear something on me when I threw him out of the office, but I think it was Demure who did it. She kept holding my arm and I figure that's when she rubbed something on my sleeves that drew the hornets. Not sure what it was, though."
Uncle Pao raised an admonishing finger. "There is one MORE thing you should have learned. Why did they involve you in the first place? Why even try to kill you when you knew nothing about them? Hah? My friend Harry Hung would have gotten that information out of them and more. I should ask him if he would consider giving you lessons you obviously need."
Despite everything that had happened that night, Sheng Mo-Yuan smiled. "Thank you, Uncle."
3/27/2020