"The Skull Mug of Ti-Yuan"
May. 20th, 2022 01:43 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dochermesThe Skull Mug of Ti-Yuan"
9/19-9/22/1988
I.
"Say, Jeremy, I was wondering why you still carry a revolver? Why not get up to date with a Glock or some other automatic?" Chen Wong-Lai passed a slow-moving delivery van and did not receive an answer for a second. Moving back into the right hand lane, he glanced over at his captain sitting in the passenger seat as they rushed through the night.
The Dire Wolf said, "Revolvers are less likely to jam than autos or semi-autos. Easier to clean and maintain."
"Yeah?" asked the Dragon of Midnight in a dubious tone. "That's the reason?"
"And I find they're more reliable in dusty or humid conditions. It's also easier to get ammo for that will fit. Since we are often in extreme environments and on the run, I find revolvers a better choice." He smiled in his barely susceptible way. People knew him for years before they could read his expressions. "What brings that to mind, Chen?"
"Hah. Nothing in particular. After driving for three hours, I'm just making conversation." Still under thirty, Chen was lean and fit, wearing a dark blue polo shirt and black trousers. He had been letting his hair grow out a little so it covered his ears and touched his collar, but an attempt to grow a mustache had been unsuccessful. Facial hair just didn't seem to be in his genes. The new Dragon of Midnight shrugged. "You seem perfectly comfortable to sit there in silence, Jeremy."
"I guess I don't talk much," the Dire Wolf admitted. As always, he was wearing what was recognized as almost his uniform in the Midnight War... black slacks, turtleneck and sport jacket. In the subdued backlight from the Dragonwing's dashboard, the pale grey eyes glinted. "Well, we don't have much information on the case."
"No, I guess not. We get a phone call from the Endicott chief of police and off we go. He must have given you SOME hints about what was going on, captain."
Leaning back in the passenger seat, Bane did not answer right away. This was a habit of his that many found infuriating. Finally, he said, "No. Just that there was big trouble in Endicott's Chinatown. Three weird deaths. He didn't want to say more over the phone."
"Well, we're on the outskirts of Endicott now," Chen told him. "I hope you know your way around the Chinese neighborhoods here because I have never been in this area before."
"I've been here. Just once. It's almost eight o'clock. Stay on this main drag for a while, I guess we will meet Chief Schumer at the police headquarters." Bane studied the scene as they rolled more slowly down the city streets.
"So typical!" snorted Chen Wong-Lai. "Look, two Szechuan restaurants or so they claim. A couple of gift shops. A nail salon... come on, it's so obvious."
"Well, it's a Chinatown," Bane said absently. "They give the tourists what they expect to find. Over there, Liu's barber shop really was a front for some gambling in the back room as I recall. Liu was close to seventy and that was ten years ago."
"There's the police station, captain. I'm going to park over by the exit in case we want to leave on the run." The Dragon of Midnight eased into an open slot and turned the silenced motor off. "I hope we get some answers."
It was a warm early September night, overcast and stuffy without a breeze. As they stepped away from the Dragonwing, Chen thumbed a button on his key fob and the doors of the gleaming black limo locked shut. "Alarms are set," he said.
"I'm curious about how much Len has modified that car for you," Bane grumbled. "It may have started as a Lincoln Continental but I guess there's not much left of the original car."
"Let the Dragon have his secrets," the young Chinese hero answered. He stepped up to the double glass doors of the white brick building and opened one to hold it for his captain. "Hope your friend is still here, it's getting late."
Inside was a small foyer with an enclosed booth to their right. Behind bullet-proof glass, a uniformed officer sat filling out forms. He looked like he was reaching retirement age, and he had grown more thick around the middle than should technically have been allowed. "Evening," he said in a neutral tone.
The Dire Wolf stepped up to the booth. "Chief Schumer asked us to come here. My name is Jeremy Bane. This is my friend and partner Chen Wong-Lai."
The cop did not ask for ID, evidently he had been given a description. He studied the two men for a moment, then depressed a switch on the intercom next to him. "Your visitors are here, chief. I'm sending them in."
A static-distorted voice answered, "Go ahead, Sam."
The old cop hit a white button on the counter in front of him and a buzz sounded to their left as the main door unlocked. "Go right ahead, folks. Chief's office is to your right as you enter."
"Thanks," said Bane. He opened the door and stepped through, holding it for Chen to follow. The Dragon came into the main room behind him as they were met by a short, wiry man with curly black hair and a thick mustache. Shumer had opened his shirt collar and loosened the knot in his uniform tie.
"Hi, Chief. It's been a few years," the Dire Wolf said as he shook the offered hand.
"I'm only sorry about the reason I had to ask you back here. Terrible, what has happened." The police chief smiled at Chen. "And you must be the new Dragon of Midnight? Some of the Chinese merchants here have mentioned you. You're quite a legend, son."
Chen Wong-Lai smiled almost in embarrasment. "It was my father who was the legend," he mumbled. "I'm just doing what I can to carry on."
Ushering them into a cramped office filled with detritus and equipment, Chief Shumer waved Bane and Chen to sit in two chairs facing a desk piled with loose papers and folders. "Sorry for the mess. Never enough hours in the day."
Settling in, the Dire Wolf got right to the point, "What happened that you asked us to come here?"
Shumer lowered his head and stared at his clasped hands. "Murders. Three murders so far in six weeks. Unrelated as far as I can see except what was done to the bodies. That's the bizarre part. Each of the victims had the skin on his forehead sliced so it fell down to cover his eyes."
"Ah," Chen muttered. "That is very old. It's so the victim's ghost can not identify and haunt the killer. It's a Northern belief." He met Shumer's startled expression with a wry hint of a smile. "I doubt if too many Chinese-Americans have ever heard of the custom."
Turning his head toward his partner, Bane asked, "Wu Lung back again?"
"Not Wu Lung. The Manchurian!"
II.
They discussed the killings for hours. The three victims had all lived in the Endicott area, one in town itself and the other two on the outskirts. One was a retired professor of linguistics, one owned an antique store with a big mail-order business and the third had been a garage mechanic. None of them knew each other, as far as the investigation could determine. The mechanic's family, his wife and daughter, had been murdered along with him and their faces mutilated the same way. All had been stabbed to death with a long thin blade from someone behind them. No fingerprints, no footprints outside, no witnesses seeing strangers or unfamiliar cars in the area.
"I wouldn't admit to the reporters," Shumer said at last. "But it doesn't look good for solving this. I've been at this desk for twenty eight years and usually I can see an opening.. somewhere to begin. But this is just a blank wall."
Bane glanced over at his teammate, who had been listening without comment to the details. "Chen. You think this is the Manchurian at work?"
"I know it is!" the Dragon of Midnight snorted. He was not successful at keeping scorn out of of his voice. "This is no task for the authorities. I must track and slay this man myself..."
At this, Jeremy Bane got to his feet. "We need to mull this over and come up with a plan, chief. I saw some motels on the way in, Chen and I will check in and get back to you in the morning."
With obvious reluctance, Shirmer escorted them out to the parking lot, told them he was counting on them for a fresh approach and went back inside. Standing by the sleek limo, the Dire Wolf suddenly said, "Okay, Chen, let's have it. What's eating you?"
The Dragon of Midnight jabbed an emphatic finger. "I need to handle this myself. Alone. Against the Manchurian, moving among the Chinese here, only I am suited for the job. You should return to Manhattan, Jeremy. Lease a car. I will report after I cut the Manchurian's head off."
"That's not going to happen."
"Listen, captain, I can handle this better alone."
"Chen." The single word was low and cold. "You are a knight of Tel Shai, sworn to obey the lawful orders of your captain. I answer to our Teachers for your actions. Am I right?"
"Oh, yes, of course!" Chen held up both open hands as if wanting to push Bane away. "But this doesn't have to be a big problem.."
"Enough! I cut you a lot of slack because I know you like to operate on your own. You have done good work as the new Dragon of Midnight. But if you want to remain at Tel Shai and stay as a KDF member, you have to agree there is only one captain on the team. Are we clear on that?"
After a long awkward moment of silence, Chen nodded his head. "We're clear on that."
"Good. Next we need to find a motel room for the night so you can fill me in on everything you know about the Manchurian." Bane placed his hand on the doorhandle of the passenger side. "Let's go."
Unlocking the doors with a signal from his key fob, the Dragon said wearily, "The Manchurian is a Fang Shih Alchemist. He is supposed to be over two hundred years old." He opened his door and slid in behind the wheel. "Oh, and his skin is colored yellow like a lemon..."
By the time they pulled into the Twin Creeks Motel ten miles out of town, the tension between Chen and Bane had evaporated. They were talking at ease. The Dragon brought his car in backwards, a habit every KDF member developed so they could peel out in a hurry if necessary. "Did I mention he has pointed ears? No bigger than normal but pointed at the top."
Opening up his door, Bane paused. "Are you sure the Manchurian is Human? The more I hear, the more I wonder."
"Absolutely. He was originally from Fukien they say, youngest son of a noble family. He started as an apprentice to a Fang Shih and two hundred years of Alchemy has changed his body." Chen turned off the engine, which was so silenced it could not been heard when running. "Are you going to rent a room, captain? I have a few fake IDs with me."
"I'll do it," Bane said as he got out. "This will only take a few minutes."
The Dragon of Midnight watched his captain stride quickly across the gravel to the end of the L-shaped building, where blue neon letters said OFFICE. As Bane went in, Chen sighed and reached in the backseat to haul out two knapsacks. He dropped them on the ground and also took out a heavy leather satchel.
As the Dire Wolf came back out, Chen lifted his knapsack and the satchel. "I draw the line at carrying your luggage."
"Hah," Bane said. "We're in Room 11, the second one over from where we're parked. I took the rooms for three days, just in case." He snatched up his own knapsack and headed over to open the door with the key that had a large plastic tag on it. As they entered and Bane flicked on the lights, he handed a second key to Chen. "The funny thing is, you're the one person I know who doesn't need a key."
"Not everyone can walk through walls," the Dragon of Midnight agreed. He turned slowly around, surveying. There were two twin-sized beds with nightstands between them, a couch and a few chairs, a dresser with a TV on top of it. In one corner was the bathroom door. "Not bad. At least it smells clean." He inspected the bathroom critically. "Yeah, this will do."
"Good. I thought of getting separate rooms at different ends of the motel, but that might draw more attention." Bane tossed his knapsack on one of the beds, then shrugged out of his sport jacket and draped it over the back of a chair. In the black turtleneck, he looked almost too thin to be healthy but it was all lean muscle with zero body fat.
"So, back to business," he said as he began pacing in his restless way, "Isn't it unusual for the Manchurian to be in America? You said he has his stronghold up near the Mongolian border."
"Very unusual." Chen had tucked his own knapsack in one corner, yanked off his boots and now he stretched out on his bed. "Something valuable is here. A talisman, maybe? An enemy he wants to see suffer before death? Perhaps some rare ingredients for his potions. I don't know much about Alchemy."
"Neither do I," the Dire Wolf admitted. "Just basic principles. Too bad we don't have Nebel with us, but we play the hand we're given."
Chen sat up and swung around to face his partner. "It's only eleven-thirty, Jeremy. Maybe we can prowl the area. Now is when the creatures of the night start to stir."
"It's called the Midnight War for good reason," Bane said. "And you ARE the Dragon of Midnight. You're right. Let's patrol a little and see if anything catches our attention."
As Chen got to his feet, he pulled a flat golden pendant from under his shirt and held it up. Suspended on a fine-linked ensalir chain, it was shaped like a rampant Imperial Dragon but the body was shorter and more manlike than most traditional representations. He let the talisman dangle freely. "I am beginning to learn to listen to this, captain. It may point us toward the Manchurian."
Pulling on his jacket again, Bane headed for the door. "I hope so. Three deaths so far with no pattern, let's hope we prevent a fourth."
III.
After an hour, Olivia Wei gave up on trying to sleep. She just was too tired, her body could not let go. Next to her, Jack was breathing slowly and deeply. That was just like him, he didn't worry about things the way she did. She slipped out of bed without waking him and took her robe from the back of the chair next to the bed. After eleven years of marriage, she should be used to his philosophical approach to life but it still annoyed her.
Out in the hall, she decided to get a snack. As if she hadn't been preparing food and serving it for ten hours that day! They simply had to hire a second person to help. Even on Sundays, when the China Flower was closed, both of them went in for a while to clean a little. It was wearing her down. Flicking on the lights in the kitchen, Olivia wondered if there was any of that roast chicken left. She would toast two slices of wheat bread and make a thick sandwich, maybe a cup of ginger tea. As she walked over to the refrigerator, something caught her eye. What was that on top of the fridge?
Just barely five feet tall in her bare feet, she had to stand up on tip-toe to grab the crumpled brown paper bag and open it. What? It was a mug of some kind and she felt the strangest jolt as she saw it was carved to look like a human skull. Olivia turned the darn thing over in her hands, frowning. It looked awfully real but it had to be plastic. Didn't it? It was the same size as a real skull, hollowed out with the top open to use as a drinking vessel. This was just weird.
Without knowing she was going to do it, Olivia heated some water and stirred dried leaves in, then poured the tea into the skull mug and drank it all in a gulp. Then she gasped and almost fell back against the counter. Why had she done that? This was insane. She rinsed the mug out in the sink and put it down, still amazed at everything that had happened in the past few minutes. Had Jack bought that mug? When? She had been with him all day.
And now she didn't feel well. Olivia managed to pull a chair out at the round table under the window and fell down into it. Her head was spinning, everything seemed blurry. For an instant, she was really frightened and opened her mouth to yell for Jack but then her vision swirled and she saw a scene play in front of her as if projected into the air.
Through a mist, three Asian men were walking toward her. Two were big muscular brutes with sullen hateful faces. They stood behind an obese man who was the fattest Asian she had ever seen. He wore an expensive tan business suit that must have been tailored to fit him. The huge stomach was round and hard. The man walked slowly and carefully as he entered. Above the wide moonface, thinning black hair was combed straight back without a part and his eyes were almost hidden in their folds.
The man smiled wickedly at her and raised a pudgy hand as if to receive something. "The Skull Mug of Ti-Yuan," he hissed, "where is it?"
"Don't hurt me! Stay away," Olivia cried out loud. Her head cleared with a rush, her sight came back to normal and she sat up. Was she drugged? What was happening to her? Then her heart almost stopped as the kitchen door opened. The same three men she had seen in the hallucination came in from the night and stepped up to her.
"The Skull Mug of Ti-Yuan," whispered the fat Chinese man. "Where is it?"
IV.
It was getting light in the sky to the East when Bane finally said, "Looks like a bust, Chen. Nothing suspicious going on that I can spot. That one guy sitting on his porch in the dark was just having a beer. Maybe we should head back to the motel."
At the wheel of the Dragonwing, Chen Wong-Lai grumbled unhappily. "I suppose. At least we have a good layout of the town in our minds now."
"Do you want to get some gas while we can? We've been riding around for hours."
"Ah, this vehicle does not run on gasoline any more. It has a small Trom impulse engine like the ones which power the CORBYs. Slade said it will not need to be recharged for years." Chen made two right turns on side street and headed back out of town.
Bane shrugged. "The more I look, the more switches I see on the dashboard. I know your father and the Sting drove a car that was armed with all sorts of weapons but that was back in the 1940s."
"I'm carrying on that tradition," Chen said. "The Dragonwing is more than bulletproof, it would take a cannon shell to rupture it. It has smoke screen and tear gas dispensers. The headlights are polarized so anyone outside will not see lights on. And of course, its top speed is limited only by my reflexes."
"It's impressive, all right. The KDF cruisers aren't as advanced." Bane actually yawned as they pulled into the parking lot of the Twin Creeks Motel, something so rare for him that he was surprised himself. "I guess a few hours sleep before we start again is a good idea."
"I second the motion," the Dragon of Midnight said. He turned off the motor and sighed. "I hope we get an opening soon, Jeremy. We don't really have much to work with yet."
"We'll get on it today, Chen. We'll start talking to people involved. The local police have already questioned everyone who knew the victims, but these cops don't know what we know about Midnight War." As he got out of the sleek black limo, he glanced at his watch. "Five-twenty. Say we start again at nine?"
Chen closed the driver's side door and listened for the clicks as the alarms and locks armed themselves. "Okay with me. Shower and breakfast after a few hours sleep."
"Maybe not," Bane said in a suddenly tense tone. "Here comes a cop car, it's for us."
The black and white slid to a halt almost within arm reach. A uniformed officer was driving, and in the passenger seat Chief Shirmer was wearing regular slacks and a dark blue T-shirt. He stuck his head out the window. "Come with us, you two. There's been another incident."
Glancing at each other, Bane and Chen grudgingly obeyed. They buckled their seat belts in the back of the cruiser and wanted for Shirmer to speak.
"I take it you boys haven't been to sleep yet. Me neither. I had just gotten home when the call came. Over on Prospect Street, a neighbor saw three men enter the house next door at one in the morning. She knew Mr and Mrs Wei and she was worried. Officer Branson knocked, got no answer and went in. He found the bodies." Shirmer let out a deep unsteady breath. "Cut up like the others."
Before the police chief could explain further, they were at the scene. A police car with red and blue lights flashing stood in front of a small neat house with tan aluminum siding and a gold-colored VW Jetta was parked in a short gravel drive. Standing next to that car was a uniformed town cop with his arms folded, but he came forward quickly to meet them.
"Coroner is on his way," the officer told Shirmer. "But he lives way over in Shelby and it'll be maybe an hour before he gets here. Neighbors are watching but they're staying inside."
"Good," the police chief snapped. "Shut down your lightbar, Stan. Stand by, we're going in." He turned to Bane and Chen. "I know you two know how to behave, right?"
The Dire Wolf was tugging on a pair of blue latex gloves and he gave a similar pair to Chen. "Don't worry, Chief. Let's have a look."
The next half hour went by with Bane unobtrusively taking charge. He had been at a hundred murder scenes in his careeer, he was a licensed Private Investigator who had worked closely with the NYPD and his experience showed. Moving slowly through the house, touching nothing but observing closely, he had both the police chief and Chen hanging on everything he said. First, they found the body of Olivia Wei lying propped up against a wall of the kitchen. Black blood was drying on her head and the front of her bathrobe, and her face was obscured by a flap of skin.
"Same MO," Bane rattled off. "Cause of death, stab wound directly into heart by long thin blade. Immediately after death, skin was slit across hairline and down both temples to create this flap across the eyes. No bruising, no marks on hands or arms so no resistance. No signs of a struggle. The back door over there must have been unlocked, entry was not forcible." The Dire Wolf straightened up from where he had been crouching over the corpse. He seemed as cold and unaffected as if he was examing an appliance he was considering buying.
Police Chief Shirmer was not as callused. Sweat had broken out on his face and he was staring at the body. Glancing over, Bane saw this. "You knew her?" he asked.
"Yeah. Of course. I ate at their restaurant once or twice a week. She was a complete sweetheart, always friendly and ready to chat. This is hard to take.. I..." He suddenly stood up and pulled himself tighter. "And Jack is dead, too. Hendrick said the body is upstairs."
"We need to take a look," Bane said. He left the kitchen and trotted up narrow stairs that were attached to a wall, with no railing. At the top, a simple white door stood open and on the bed was the body of Yu-Ping "Jack" Wei. He had been killed and mutilated the same way. There was enough light from the dawn outside the windows to see, but the Dire Wolf used a pencil flashlight from his jacket to examine more closely.
After a few minutes, Bane backed away and turned to face Shirmer. "I don't know if it's any comfort, Chief, but this man was killed so suddenly he didn't know what was happening. It looks to me like the intruders snuck in while he was asleep."
"Yeah. That helps a little. Poor Jack. He gave everything he had. He and Olivia were at the China Flower at nine every morning and never left before ten at night. This is the reward they get!" Shirmer's voice was strangely flat and emotionless but his face was taut as a mask.
Chen spoke for the first time. "We are a hard-working race. At least they were together. Many Chinese come here to make a living and are away from their wives or husbands for years at a time. But I say this without anger, sir. These two will be avenged. Their killers will not walk the Earth unpunished."
Watching his partner, Bane asked, "Any sign of the Manchurian?"
"No. I can't feel his presence, captain. In the kitchen, there was after effects of gralic force but not that of a master Fang Shih. Just his minions, I guess."
Chief Shirmer understood none of that. "All right, the coroner will be here soon. I'm going to start taking a couple hundred photographs while he examines the bodies. You two will have to wait outside."
"We'll be going," Bane told him. "Thanks for letting us get a look. It will be a big help in the hunt. Take care, Chief." The Dire Wolf hesitated, then his voice softened slightly. "I know it can't be easy, you were friends with these people. The best you can do is bring justice."
"Thanks," Shirmer answered. "Poor Jack. Olivia. Nicest people, they could not have done anything to possibly deserve this."
As he led the two of them down the stairs, Bane said, "I have a couple of ideas. The best one is that something valuable was at that antique store. Most likely the owner didn't realize its importance but the killers are trying to retrieve it. All these victims were murdered so they couldn't tell anyone who the killers are. Whether or not the item has been recovered by the murderers, I don't know yet."
"Well, good luck." Standing by the front door, the Chief lowered his head and tried to keep his voice steady. "I'm glad you are your partner are here, Mr Bane. You're experts at this sort of thing. I looked up the record you and your KDF team has, and I'm sure you're the best specialists that could have been called in."
"We'll do our best," Bane said. He turned to the Dragon. "Chen, you want to look around some more?"
"No, Jeremy. I have seen what I need to." The young Chinese nodded to the police chief and opened the front door with a gloved hand to step aside. Bane followed him around the corner to where an ambulance and a white van stood, with paramedics unloading a gurney that had folding wheels. A middle-aged man wearing a white smock that read MEDICAL EXAMINER on the back stood by.
As they walked away, Bane said, "It's less than a mile back to the motel."
"We'll walk, captain." The Dragon of Midnight shook his head sadly. "The police would not understand, but there was gralic magic in that house tonight. I could sense its residue. The Dragon Pendant has made me sensitive to these things. But the source is not there now."
"Ah. So whatever it is that the killers are looking for, they found it?"
"I think so. It must be something potent, something not only worth taking five lives for but a real prize for a fiend like the Manchurian."
As they hiked along, Bane said, "We need to start questioning the people involved. This morning. There must be something that will point us in the right direction."
The motel was in sight. By now, it was daylight and traffic was whipping past them as they walked alongside the road. Cars slowed at the sight of the two strange men and Bane realized that the news of more killings would spread through the small Connecticut town swiftly. As they went up to the door of his room, he asked, "You feel like we should take a break, Chen?"
"Yes. I know you want to get on the trail, captain. But be realistic. Three or fours sleep and some food will leave us better prepared for the hunt that lies ahead."
"Okay," the Dire Wolf agreed grudgingly. "There's no telling how long we'll be on the go..." He broke off suddenly and raised a hand in warning. Holding the doorknob with his right hand, he reached to his left hip under the jacket and drew his Smith & Wesson .38, then slammed the door open.
Standing inside, watching the two of them, was a tiny elderly man who leaned on a cane. He wore an elaborate brocade silk robe with voluminous sleeves. The man had skin that was a bright unnatural yellow and sharply pointed ears. In a withered face, half-closed black-irised eyes smirked at them.
"Dire Wolf. Dragon of Midnight," the weird-looking old man hissed, "We must talk. I am the Manchurian!"
IV.
Looming up behind the ancient Alchemist was a huge Mongolian, several inches over six feet tall and wide enough to fill the doorway. He wore plain working class clothes, jeans and a flannel shirt that stretched to fit him. In a flat sullen face, his dark eyes fixed on Bane and Chen with hatred he did not even try to conceal.
"Please allow an old man to be seated," the Manchurian asked. Without waiting, the servant brought over a chair and helped the Alchemist lower himself to it. As he sighed with relief, the bizarre old man lowered his head. "The serums are failing me. Age can be stalled and delayed only so long."
Entering their own motel room, Bane and Chen spread out slightly. The Dragon of Midnight stepped over to be on the Mongolian's right side, while the Dire Wolf kept his long-barreled revolver trained steadily on their main enemy. "How'd you know we were even in the area? Or that we were staying here?"
"I saw it in a vision," the Manchurian answered quietly. "More than a month ago. The last time I used the Skull Mug, I beheld this room and the two of you standing just where you are now. I saw the name of this hovel, which is how I knew I would find my traitorous disciple."
Bane slowly lowered the hammer of the Smith & Wesson, swinging its barrel down to point at the floor in front of the Manchurian's slippers. "Tell us more," he said.
"Ah. My most trusted disciple, my protege so to speak, was a man named Chih Yao-Ying. He must have been planning his treason for a long time. One night, he smashed all my lab equipment, poured my serums and potions in the river and fled with what talismans he could carry. He had an escape route ready, from Beijing to Macao to Belgium and finally here, to your country." The wrinkled face was unreadable, but then little emotion could show on that dry shrivelled surface.
For the barest instant, Bane's grey eyes flickered over to Chen. The Dragon of Midnight nodded and said, "The Skull Mug. It is ancient, some say it dates back to the Darthan Age. It is the open skull of a warlock named Ti-Yuan, prepared according to his instructions. Whoever drinks from it has visions of the near future... but the legend says, they always regret it!"
"All too true," the Manchurian put in quietly. "Somehow,Yao-Ying lost several of the talismans he stole from me, and the Skull Mug was one of them. Since I came to this country, it has been a race between us to recover them." Between the single eyelid fold and the deepset wrinkles, only an emerald gleam of the ancient sorcerer's eyes could be seen.
"Why do you come to us?" asked Bane without the slightest warmth.
"Not because I want to," the Manchurian chuckled. "That should be obvious. Tel Shai knights! Always in the way of wiser men. I propose a truce because I have no choice. Without my Velkandu potions, age is sweeping over me. With your help, I have a chance to locate Yao-Ying in time to reclaim my potions and rejuvenate."
Off to the side, Chen Wong-Lai scoffed loudly. "And why do we need you, monster?"
"Ah, I can lead you to Yao-Ying. I can locate him and you can defeat him. Is that not clear?"
For a long moment, Chen and Bane exchanged glances, then both nodded simultaneously. The Dire Wolf slowly holstered his gun. "I know you are not wanted in the United States. As far as I can find out, you haven't committed any crimes here."
"Oh, I have been careful about that," the elderly warlock admitted. "Let us move ahead. You are a realist, Dire Wolf. 'The enemy of my enemy...' "
"Is still my enemy," Bane snorted, "although circumstances may force me to worth with him. All right, Manchurian. Let's get the details understood. We have a truce for the moment. My partner and I will go with you to confront this Yao-Ying. After that, you can claim whatever talismans he has in his possession. BUT get this clear. We will separate after that, and if I ever run into you in America again..."
"I know, I know. You will act as rashly as always," The Manchurian struggled to his feet, leaning heavily on his cane and the huge Mongol took him by one arm to help. "Thank you, Pako. Let us go, then. Will you follow us in your own vehicle?"
"Yeah, I think that's best. Chen?"
The Dragon of Midnight was visibly tense. "These two must wait outside for a moment while I prepare myself, Jeremy. Then we will settle... everything today."
V.
In a seedy apartment on Main and Olive Street on the bad side of the village, Chih Yao-Ying sat at a chipped wooden table. He was ripping chunks off a loaf of French bread and sticking pieces of pork on them from a huge iron bowl of stew. At his right hand was a bottle of Tsing-Tao beer that he had emptied at one gulp. As he chewed noisily, his men sat patiently watching. After a few minutes, he noticed them and motioned for them to help themselves.
As the four thugs got bowls and plates and set to work, Yao-Ying scowled at them. At his elbow sat a cloth bag that closed with a cord. Still chewing, the apprentice Alchemist tugged it open, wiped his hands on a paper napkin and took out a strange yellow-white object. The Skull Mug of Ti-Yuan! It was lacquered and polished, but still unmistakable real bone. The lower jaw was wired on. In the empty eye sockets could sometimes be seen a faint flicker of red light that was inexplicable.
"The Old One is out there searching for us," he announced in a sour voice. "We may have a great advantage over him. But! unfortunately no man can control what sights the Skull Mug will reveal. Therefore each of you will drink from it and tell us what you see. Sing, you first. Pour your beer in here." And he leaned over the table to place the gruesome talisman in front of his oldest and most trusted accomplice.
The man named Sing was hitting fifty, with jowls forming. He hesitated a second too long.
"Do I need to tell you twice!" bellowed Yao-Ying.
"No, no, of course not." Sing popped the cap of his bottle and poured its contents into the Skull Mug. He was clearly not eager to do this, but he raised the mug and took a long swallow before putting it carefully down again. Everyone in the room watched him as he peered around nervously, then began to lean forward and stare at an empty spot in the air just above head level.
"What do you see?" demanded Yao-Ying. He had gotten to his feet but could see nothing where Sing was staring.
"Snow...it's snowing. Heavy snow," Sing whispered. "I see it so clearly. A black car stuck by the side of the road. A big man is pushing against its rear bumper and.. the Manchurian is there!"
"That is no help," Yao-Ying snapped. "Bah. We need the near future. Not this winter. Anything else?"
"No. Just the snow and the car. The Mongol has pushed the car free, he is getting back in."
"You are a great disappointment to me," Yao-Ying told him coldly. "Very well. Ching, you next."
The youngest of the Chinese in that room reached for the Skull Mug, took it over to the sink and rinsed it out, then filled it with fresh tap. He stared at the empty eyeholes of the talisman before raising it to his mouth and drinking deeply. Like Sing, he waited a minute before suddenly rubbed his eyes with his knuckles. Ching shook his head. "The air is foggy," he mumbled. "It swirls and I can see.. see..." He jumped backward and knocked over his chair behind me. "No! NO!"
Yao-Ying swung over and grabbed the man by the shirt to shake him. "Ching! Ching, what is it?"
"I see myself! Being killed by a white man dressed all in black. Here, in this very room! I must get away, at once." He lunged for the door but Yao-Ying backharded him sharply across the face with a hard flat hand and Ching fell to his knees.
"Stop it! You are not going anywhere." He hauled Ching up and flung him roughly into a chair. "You see shadows what might come to pass. The future is not written yet and we will change it. So be it. I myself will drink from Ti-Yuan's head."
Moving slowly and deliberately, the obese ringleader brewed a cup of tea in the microwave, stirred it and sniffed it, then poured it into the gruesome talisman and drank it in a single gulp. He kept his grip on the Skull Mug, casting his eyes in all directions eagerly. "There! I see it, it looks like grey fog coming in..."
For a few minutes, Chih Yao-Ying gazed into space. He shook himself and unexpectedly snorted with laughter. "Perfect! Forewarned is half the battle. All of you, have your weapons ready. Ching, stay behind the front door. The rest of you.. aim your guns right there!" He pointed a meaty finger at a blank spot on the wall in front of him.
VI.
As Bane waited, Chen opened his knapsack and yanked out his uniform. Moving with a quickness from long practice, he stripped down to the same type of bodysuit that Bane wore.. flexible Trom armor, thin as silk but capable of dispersing even a rifle bullet so the wearer felt only a dull thump. The pale gold Dragon Pendant hung over this on its chain. Chen buckled stiff leather cuffs on his wrist, each holding six heavy metal darts. The ones on the left wrist were coded with a blue band. They held the anesthetic. The right hand darts had a right band and held a small amount of the explosive used in the resonance grenades. A hit from one would knock down a grown man, probably with a cracked rib and bad bruising. These were his weapons of choice.
In a few seconds, he had tugged on the all-black Dragon of Midnight uniform based on the one his father had worn decades earlier. The rubber-soled slippers, snug leggings and tunic were the same, with the long sleeved tunic ending in thin cotton gloves. The cowl of the tunic had been drawn up, and under it Chen hid his face behind a full face black mask which was thin as gauze. On the brow of that mask was an outline of a rampant Imperial Dragon in thin white lines.
Clipped at the back of his waistband was a Link and a few other KDF gadgets he had grudgingly agreed to carry. He claimed even that small extra weight affected his sense of balance which was vital to the Fang Lung style, but Bane had insisted until he gave in. As he pulled the snug cowl down over his head, Chen Wong-Lai seemed to hold himself straighter and moved with a new crisp energy.
"That outfit sure changes you," Bane observed. "Sometimes you seem like a different person when you have it on."
"Good," the Dragon of Midnight said. "Jeremy, how soon can we expect the Manchurian to betray us?"
A barely visible smile touched the Dire Wolf's narrow face and he shrugged. "The first instant he can. And he will expect the same of us."
"Of course." Chen went over and opened the door to outside. "I would not expect any different."
______________________________
[In the Dragonwing, Chen and Bane follow the Manchurian to a modest house on the outskirts of town. The warlock waits with Pako in his limo while the Tel Shai knights attack. They separate, Chen racing through the gloom around to the other side of the house.
Reluctantly Bane stands in plain view next to the Dragonwing across the street and allows himself to be seen as a distraction. He sees a curtain pulled aside for a second and braces himself for a possible gunshot which does not come. Hurry up, Chen, he thinks, this is nerve-wracking at best.
Using the Dragon Pendant, Chen walks through a wall intending to unlock the back door for Bane but he gets immediately blasted by five pistols and is stunned by the point-blank impact. The Trom armor is good but not perfect and some impact always gets through. Yao-Ying had known they were coming because of his vision from the Skull Mug a few minutes earlier. Hearing the gunfire, Bane hurtles across the sidewalk, dives in through a window in an explosion of glass fragments and is dazed by a cloud of green stinging vapor from Ya-Ying that weakens him. Chen and Bane are tied up and beaten heavily but shortly get loose anyway. They plow through the four henchmen. Yao-Ying uses more Velkandu gas to daze them. He pulls an automatic and has just pressed it to Bane's head when the Manchurian appears in the front door. "YaoYing, you fool! This hour is your last!" He has given his servant Pako a serum that cranks him up to maximum speed and strength. Pako rips Yao-Ying apart and then collapses half dead himself from the exertion.
Still weakened, Bane and Chen expect the Manchurian to try to kill them but he surprises them by taking the Skull Mug and helping Pako back out to the car. He pauses to give them a caustic speech about having honor ("Not that you dogs will understand") before driving away].
_________________________________________________
VII.
"There he goes in his Lincoln," Bane said glumly. "I guess he's still able to drive." Turning away from the window, the Dire Wolf went over to a chair and dropped down heavily into it. Chen did the same a second later, groaning as he sat down.
"We sure took a beating this time," the Dragon of Midnight grumbled. He threw back his cowl and unstrapped the full mask to wipe sweat from a bruised face. "Between getting kicked by those bastards and breathing in those fumes, I honestly don't feel too great."
"We'll bounce back fast. The tagra should kick in soon." Bane flexed his shoulders and pulled one arm forward with the other hand, loosening it up. "I'm not too proud of how things turned out, Chen. Being saved by the villain..! That bothers me."
Still leaning back, the Dragon stretched both legs out in front of him. Unexpectedly, he laughed out loud. "The worst part was getting a speech about our attitudes. I never expected a sermon from the Manchurian!"
9/20/2015
9/19-9/22/1988
I.
"Say, Jeremy, I was wondering why you still carry a revolver? Why not get up to date with a Glock or some other automatic?" Chen Wong-Lai passed a slow-moving delivery van and did not receive an answer for a second. Moving back into the right hand lane, he glanced over at his captain sitting in the passenger seat as they rushed through the night.
The Dire Wolf said, "Revolvers are less likely to jam than autos or semi-autos. Easier to clean and maintain."
"Yeah?" asked the Dragon of Midnight in a dubious tone. "That's the reason?"
"And I find they're more reliable in dusty or humid conditions. It's also easier to get ammo for that will fit. Since we are often in extreme environments and on the run, I find revolvers a better choice." He smiled in his barely susceptible way. People knew him for years before they could read his expressions. "What brings that to mind, Chen?"
"Hah. Nothing in particular. After driving for three hours, I'm just making conversation." Still under thirty, Chen was lean and fit, wearing a dark blue polo shirt and black trousers. He had been letting his hair grow out a little so it covered his ears and touched his collar, but an attempt to grow a mustache had been unsuccessful. Facial hair just didn't seem to be in his genes. The new Dragon of Midnight shrugged. "You seem perfectly comfortable to sit there in silence, Jeremy."
"I guess I don't talk much," the Dire Wolf admitted. As always, he was wearing what was recognized as almost his uniform in the Midnight War... black slacks, turtleneck and sport jacket. In the subdued backlight from the Dragonwing's dashboard, the pale grey eyes glinted. "Well, we don't have much information on the case."
"No, I guess not. We get a phone call from the Endicott chief of police and off we go. He must have given you SOME hints about what was going on, captain."
Leaning back in the passenger seat, Bane did not answer right away. This was a habit of his that many found infuriating. Finally, he said, "No. Just that there was big trouble in Endicott's Chinatown. Three weird deaths. He didn't want to say more over the phone."
"Well, we're on the outskirts of Endicott now," Chen told him. "I hope you know your way around the Chinese neighborhoods here because I have never been in this area before."
"I've been here. Just once. It's almost eight o'clock. Stay on this main drag for a while, I guess we will meet Chief Schumer at the police headquarters." Bane studied the scene as they rolled more slowly down the city streets.
"So typical!" snorted Chen Wong-Lai. "Look, two Szechuan restaurants or so they claim. A couple of gift shops. A nail salon... come on, it's so obvious."
"Well, it's a Chinatown," Bane said absently. "They give the tourists what they expect to find. Over there, Liu's barber shop really was a front for some gambling in the back room as I recall. Liu was close to seventy and that was ten years ago."
"There's the police station, captain. I'm going to park over by the exit in case we want to leave on the run." The Dragon of Midnight eased into an open slot and turned the silenced motor off. "I hope we get some answers."
It was a warm early September night, overcast and stuffy without a breeze. As they stepped away from the Dragonwing, Chen thumbed a button on his key fob and the doors of the gleaming black limo locked shut. "Alarms are set," he said.
"I'm curious about how much Len has modified that car for you," Bane grumbled. "It may have started as a Lincoln Continental but I guess there's not much left of the original car."
"Let the Dragon have his secrets," the young Chinese hero answered. He stepped up to the double glass doors of the white brick building and opened one to hold it for his captain. "Hope your friend is still here, it's getting late."
Inside was a small foyer with an enclosed booth to their right. Behind bullet-proof glass, a uniformed officer sat filling out forms. He looked like he was reaching retirement age, and he had grown more thick around the middle than should technically have been allowed. "Evening," he said in a neutral tone.
The Dire Wolf stepped up to the booth. "Chief Schumer asked us to come here. My name is Jeremy Bane. This is my friend and partner Chen Wong-Lai."
The cop did not ask for ID, evidently he had been given a description. He studied the two men for a moment, then depressed a switch on the intercom next to him. "Your visitors are here, chief. I'm sending them in."
A static-distorted voice answered, "Go ahead, Sam."
The old cop hit a white button on the counter in front of him and a buzz sounded to their left as the main door unlocked. "Go right ahead, folks. Chief's office is to your right as you enter."
"Thanks," said Bane. He opened the door and stepped through, holding it for Chen to follow. The Dragon came into the main room behind him as they were met by a short, wiry man with curly black hair and a thick mustache. Shumer had opened his shirt collar and loosened the knot in his uniform tie.
"Hi, Chief. It's been a few years," the Dire Wolf said as he shook the offered hand.
"I'm only sorry about the reason I had to ask you back here. Terrible, what has happened." The police chief smiled at Chen. "And you must be the new Dragon of Midnight? Some of the Chinese merchants here have mentioned you. You're quite a legend, son."
Chen Wong-Lai smiled almost in embarrasment. "It was my father who was the legend," he mumbled. "I'm just doing what I can to carry on."
Ushering them into a cramped office filled with detritus and equipment, Chief Shumer waved Bane and Chen to sit in two chairs facing a desk piled with loose papers and folders. "Sorry for the mess. Never enough hours in the day."
Settling in, the Dire Wolf got right to the point, "What happened that you asked us to come here?"
Shumer lowered his head and stared at his clasped hands. "Murders. Three murders so far in six weeks. Unrelated as far as I can see except what was done to the bodies. That's the bizarre part. Each of the victims had the skin on his forehead sliced so it fell down to cover his eyes."
"Ah," Chen muttered. "That is very old. It's so the victim's ghost can not identify and haunt the killer. It's a Northern belief." He met Shumer's startled expression with a wry hint of a smile. "I doubt if too many Chinese-Americans have ever heard of the custom."
Turning his head toward his partner, Bane asked, "Wu Lung back again?"
"Not Wu Lung. The Manchurian!"
II.
They discussed the killings for hours. The three victims had all lived in the Endicott area, one in town itself and the other two on the outskirts. One was a retired professor of linguistics, one owned an antique store with a big mail-order business and the third had been a garage mechanic. None of them knew each other, as far as the investigation could determine. The mechanic's family, his wife and daughter, had been murdered along with him and their faces mutilated the same way. All had been stabbed to death with a long thin blade from someone behind them. No fingerprints, no footprints outside, no witnesses seeing strangers or unfamiliar cars in the area.
"I wouldn't admit to the reporters," Shumer said at last. "But it doesn't look good for solving this. I've been at this desk for twenty eight years and usually I can see an opening.. somewhere to begin. But this is just a blank wall."
Bane glanced over at his teammate, who had been listening without comment to the details. "Chen. You think this is the Manchurian at work?"
"I know it is!" the Dragon of Midnight snorted. He was not successful at keeping scorn out of of his voice. "This is no task for the authorities. I must track and slay this man myself..."
At this, Jeremy Bane got to his feet. "We need to mull this over and come up with a plan, chief. I saw some motels on the way in, Chen and I will check in and get back to you in the morning."
With obvious reluctance, Shirmer escorted them out to the parking lot, told them he was counting on them for a fresh approach and went back inside. Standing by the sleek limo, the Dire Wolf suddenly said, "Okay, Chen, let's have it. What's eating you?"
The Dragon of Midnight jabbed an emphatic finger. "I need to handle this myself. Alone. Against the Manchurian, moving among the Chinese here, only I am suited for the job. You should return to Manhattan, Jeremy. Lease a car. I will report after I cut the Manchurian's head off."
"That's not going to happen."
"Listen, captain, I can handle this better alone."
"Chen." The single word was low and cold. "You are a knight of Tel Shai, sworn to obey the lawful orders of your captain. I answer to our Teachers for your actions. Am I right?"
"Oh, yes, of course!" Chen held up both open hands as if wanting to push Bane away. "But this doesn't have to be a big problem.."
"Enough! I cut you a lot of slack because I know you like to operate on your own. You have done good work as the new Dragon of Midnight. But if you want to remain at Tel Shai and stay as a KDF member, you have to agree there is only one captain on the team. Are we clear on that?"
After a long awkward moment of silence, Chen nodded his head. "We're clear on that."
"Good. Next we need to find a motel room for the night so you can fill me in on everything you know about the Manchurian." Bane placed his hand on the doorhandle of the passenger side. "Let's go."
Unlocking the doors with a signal from his key fob, the Dragon said wearily, "The Manchurian is a Fang Shih Alchemist. He is supposed to be over two hundred years old." He opened his door and slid in behind the wheel. "Oh, and his skin is colored yellow like a lemon..."
By the time they pulled into the Twin Creeks Motel ten miles out of town, the tension between Chen and Bane had evaporated. They were talking at ease. The Dragon brought his car in backwards, a habit every KDF member developed so they could peel out in a hurry if necessary. "Did I mention he has pointed ears? No bigger than normal but pointed at the top."
Opening up his door, Bane paused. "Are you sure the Manchurian is Human? The more I hear, the more I wonder."
"Absolutely. He was originally from Fukien they say, youngest son of a noble family. He started as an apprentice to a Fang Shih and two hundred years of Alchemy has changed his body." Chen turned off the engine, which was so silenced it could not been heard when running. "Are you going to rent a room, captain? I have a few fake IDs with me."
"I'll do it," Bane said as he got out. "This will only take a few minutes."
The Dragon of Midnight watched his captain stride quickly across the gravel to the end of the L-shaped building, where blue neon letters said OFFICE. As Bane went in, Chen sighed and reached in the backseat to haul out two knapsacks. He dropped them on the ground and also took out a heavy leather satchel.
As the Dire Wolf came back out, Chen lifted his knapsack and the satchel. "I draw the line at carrying your luggage."
"Hah," Bane said. "We're in Room 11, the second one over from where we're parked. I took the rooms for three days, just in case." He snatched up his own knapsack and headed over to open the door with the key that had a large plastic tag on it. As they entered and Bane flicked on the lights, he handed a second key to Chen. "The funny thing is, you're the one person I know who doesn't need a key."
"Not everyone can walk through walls," the Dragon of Midnight agreed. He turned slowly around, surveying. There were two twin-sized beds with nightstands between them, a couch and a few chairs, a dresser with a TV on top of it. In one corner was the bathroom door. "Not bad. At least it smells clean." He inspected the bathroom critically. "Yeah, this will do."
"Good. I thought of getting separate rooms at different ends of the motel, but that might draw more attention." Bane tossed his knapsack on one of the beds, then shrugged out of his sport jacket and draped it over the back of a chair. In the black turtleneck, he looked almost too thin to be healthy but it was all lean muscle with zero body fat.
"So, back to business," he said as he began pacing in his restless way, "Isn't it unusual for the Manchurian to be in America? You said he has his stronghold up near the Mongolian border."
"Very unusual." Chen had tucked his own knapsack in one corner, yanked off his boots and now he stretched out on his bed. "Something valuable is here. A talisman, maybe? An enemy he wants to see suffer before death? Perhaps some rare ingredients for his potions. I don't know much about Alchemy."
"Neither do I," the Dire Wolf admitted. "Just basic principles. Too bad we don't have Nebel with us, but we play the hand we're given."
Chen sat up and swung around to face his partner. "It's only eleven-thirty, Jeremy. Maybe we can prowl the area. Now is when the creatures of the night start to stir."
"It's called the Midnight War for good reason," Bane said. "And you ARE the Dragon of Midnight. You're right. Let's patrol a little and see if anything catches our attention."
As Chen got to his feet, he pulled a flat golden pendant from under his shirt and held it up. Suspended on a fine-linked ensalir chain, it was shaped like a rampant Imperial Dragon but the body was shorter and more manlike than most traditional representations. He let the talisman dangle freely. "I am beginning to learn to listen to this, captain. It may point us toward the Manchurian."
Pulling on his jacket again, Bane headed for the door. "I hope so. Three deaths so far with no pattern, let's hope we prevent a fourth."
III.
After an hour, Olivia Wei gave up on trying to sleep. She just was too tired, her body could not let go. Next to her, Jack was breathing slowly and deeply. That was just like him, he didn't worry about things the way she did. She slipped out of bed without waking him and took her robe from the back of the chair next to the bed. After eleven years of marriage, she should be used to his philosophical approach to life but it still annoyed her.
Out in the hall, she decided to get a snack. As if she hadn't been preparing food and serving it for ten hours that day! They simply had to hire a second person to help. Even on Sundays, when the China Flower was closed, both of them went in for a while to clean a little. It was wearing her down. Flicking on the lights in the kitchen, Olivia wondered if there was any of that roast chicken left. She would toast two slices of wheat bread and make a thick sandwich, maybe a cup of ginger tea. As she walked over to the refrigerator, something caught her eye. What was that on top of the fridge?
Just barely five feet tall in her bare feet, she had to stand up on tip-toe to grab the crumpled brown paper bag and open it. What? It was a mug of some kind and she felt the strangest jolt as she saw it was carved to look like a human skull. Olivia turned the darn thing over in her hands, frowning. It looked awfully real but it had to be plastic. Didn't it? It was the same size as a real skull, hollowed out with the top open to use as a drinking vessel. This was just weird.
Without knowing she was going to do it, Olivia heated some water and stirred dried leaves in, then poured the tea into the skull mug and drank it all in a gulp. Then she gasped and almost fell back against the counter. Why had she done that? This was insane. She rinsed the mug out in the sink and put it down, still amazed at everything that had happened in the past few minutes. Had Jack bought that mug? When? She had been with him all day.
And now she didn't feel well. Olivia managed to pull a chair out at the round table under the window and fell down into it. Her head was spinning, everything seemed blurry. For an instant, she was really frightened and opened her mouth to yell for Jack but then her vision swirled and she saw a scene play in front of her as if projected into the air.
Through a mist, three Asian men were walking toward her. Two were big muscular brutes with sullen hateful faces. They stood behind an obese man who was the fattest Asian she had ever seen. He wore an expensive tan business suit that must have been tailored to fit him. The huge stomach was round and hard. The man walked slowly and carefully as he entered. Above the wide moonface, thinning black hair was combed straight back without a part and his eyes were almost hidden in their folds.
The man smiled wickedly at her and raised a pudgy hand as if to receive something. "The Skull Mug of Ti-Yuan," he hissed, "where is it?"
"Don't hurt me! Stay away," Olivia cried out loud. Her head cleared with a rush, her sight came back to normal and she sat up. Was she drugged? What was happening to her? Then her heart almost stopped as the kitchen door opened. The same three men she had seen in the hallucination came in from the night and stepped up to her.
"The Skull Mug of Ti-Yuan," whispered the fat Chinese man. "Where is it?"
IV.
It was getting light in the sky to the East when Bane finally said, "Looks like a bust, Chen. Nothing suspicious going on that I can spot. That one guy sitting on his porch in the dark was just having a beer. Maybe we should head back to the motel."
At the wheel of the Dragonwing, Chen Wong-Lai grumbled unhappily. "I suppose. At least we have a good layout of the town in our minds now."
"Do you want to get some gas while we can? We've been riding around for hours."
"Ah, this vehicle does not run on gasoline any more. It has a small Trom impulse engine like the ones which power the CORBYs. Slade said it will not need to be recharged for years." Chen made two right turns on side street and headed back out of town.
Bane shrugged. "The more I look, the more switches I see on the dashboard. I know your father and the Sting drove a car that was armed with all sorts of weapons but that was back in the 1940s."
"I'm carrying on that tradition," Chen said. "The Dragonwing is more than bulletproof, it would take a cannon shell to rupture it. It has smoke screen and tear gas dispensers. The headlights are polarized so anyone outside will not see lights on. And of course, its top speed is limited only by my reflexes."
"It's impressive, all right. The KDF cruisers aren't as advanced." Bane actually yawned as they pulled into the parking lot of the Twin Creeks Motel, something so rare for him that he was surprised himself. "I guess a few hours sleep before we start again is a good idea."
"I second the motion," the Dragon of Midnight said. He turned off the motor and sighed. "I hope we get an opening soon, Jeremy. We don't really have much to work with yet."
"We'll get on it today, Chen. We'll start talking to people involved. The local police have already questioned everyone who knew the victims, but these cops don't know what we know about Midnight War." As he got out of the sleek black limo, he glanced at his watch. "Five-twenty. Say we start again at nine?"
Chen closed the driver's side door and listened for the clicks as the alarms and locks armed themselves. "Okay with me. Shower and breakfast after a few hours sleep."
"Maybe not," Bane said in a suddenly tense tone. "Here comes a cop car, it's for us."
The black and white slid to a halt almost within arm reach. A uniformed officer was driving, and in the passenger seat Chief Shirmer was wearing regular slacks and a dark blue T-shirt. He stuck his head out the window. "Come with us, you two. There's been another incident."
Glancing at each other, Bane and Chen grudgingly obeyed. They buckled their seat belts in the back of the cruiser and wanted for Shirmer to speak.
"I take it you boys haven't been to sleep yet. Me neither. I had just gotten home when the call came. Over on Prospect Street, a neighbor saw three men enter the house next door at one in the morning. She knew Mr and Mrs Wei and she was worried. Officer Branson knocked, got no answer and went in. He found the bodies." Shirmer let out a deep unsteady breath. "Cut up like the others."
Before the police chief could explain further, they were at the scene. A police car with red and blue lights flashing stood in front of a small neat house with tan aluminum siding and a gold-colored VW Jetta was parked in a short gravel drive. Standing next to that car was a uniformed town cop with his arms folded, but he came forward quickly to meet them.
"Coroner is on his way," the officer told Shirmer. "But he lives way over in Shelby and it'll be maybe an hour before he gets here. Neighbors are watching but they're staying inside."
"Good," the police chief snapped. "Shut down your lightbar, Stan. Stand by, we're going in." He turned to Bane and Chen. "I know you two know how to behave, right?"
The Dire Wolf was tugging on a pair of blue latex gloves and he gave a similar pair to Chen. "Don't worry, Chief. Let's have a look."
The next half hour went by with Bane unobtrusively taking charge. He had been at a hundred murder scenes in his careeer, he was a licensed Private Investigator who had worked closely with the NYPD and his experience showed. Moving slowly through the house, touching nothing but observing closely, he had both the police chief and Chen hanging on everything he said. First, they found the body of Olivia Wei lying propped up against a wall of the kitchen. Black blood was drying on her head and the front of her bathrobe, and her face was obscured by a flap of skin.
"Same MO," Bane rattled off. "Cause of death, stab wound directly into heart by long thin blade. Immediately after death, skin was slit across hairline and down both temples to create this flap across the eyes. No bruising, no marks on hands or arms so no resistance. No signs of a struggle. The back door over there must have been unlocked, entry was not forcible." The Dire Wolf straightened up from where he had been crouching over the corpse. He seemed as cold and unaffected as if he was examing an appliance he was considering buying.
Police Chief Shirmer was not as callused. Sweat had broken out on his face and he was staring at the body. Glancing over, Bane saw this. "You knew her?" he asked.
"Yeah. Of course. I ate at their restaurant once or twice a week. She was a complete sweetheart, always friendly and ready to chat. This is hard to take.. I..." He suddenly stood up and pulled himself tighter. "And Jack is dead, too. Hendrick said the body is upstairs."
"We need to take a look," Bane said. He left the kitchen and trotted up narrow stairs that were attached to a wall, with no railing. At the top, a simple white door stood open and on the bed was the body of Yu-Ping "Jack" Wei. He had been killed and mutilated the same way. There was enough light from the dawn outside the windows to see, but the Dire Wolf used a pencil flashlight from his jacket to examine more closely.
After a few minutes, Bane backed away and turned to face Shirmer. "I don't know if it's any comfort, Chief, but this man was killed so suddenly he didn't know what was happening. It looks to me like the intruders snuck in while he was asleep."
"Yeah. That helps a little. Poor Jack. He gave everything he had. He and Olivia were at the China Flower at nine every morning and never left before ten at night. This is the reward they get!" Shirmer's voice was strangely flat and emotionless but his face was taut as a mask.
Chen spoke for the first time. "We are a hard-working race. At least they were together. Many Chinese come here to make a living and are away from their wives or husbands for years at a time. But I say this without anger, sir. These two will be avenged. Their killers will not walk the Earth unpunished."
Watching his partner, Bane asked, "Any sign of the Manchurian?"
"No. I can't feel his presence, captain. In the kitchen, there was after effects of gralic force but not that of a master Fang Shih. Just his minions, I guess."
Chief Shirmer understood none of that. "All right, the coroner will be here soon. I'm going to start taking a couple hundred photographs while he examines the bodies. You two will have to wait outside."
"We'll be going," Bane told him. "Thanks for letting us get a look. It will be a big help in the hunt. Take care, Chief." The Dire Wolf hesitated, then his voice softened slightly. "I know it can't be easy, you were friends with these people. The best you can do is bring justice."
"Thanks," Shirmer answered. "Poor Jack. Olivia. Nicest people, they could not have done anything to possibly deserve this."
As he led the two of them down the stairs, Bane said, "I have a couple of ideas. The best one is that something valuable was at that antique store. Most likely the owner didn't realize its importance but the killers are trying to retrieve it. All these victims were murdered so they couldn't tell anyone who the killers are. Whether or not the item has been recovered by the murderers, I don't know yet."
"Well, good luck." Standing by the front door, the Chief lowered his head and tried to keep his voice steady. "I'm glad you are your partner are here, Mr Bane. You're experts at this sort of thing. I looked up the record you and your KDF team has, and I'm sure you're the best specialists that could have been called in."
"We'll do our best," Bane said. He turned to the Dragon. "Chen, you want to look around some more?"
"No, Jeremy. I have seen what I need to." The young Chinese nodded to the police chief and opened the front door with a gloved hand to step aside. Bane followed him around the corner to where an ambulance and a white van stood, with paramedics unloading a gurney that had folding wheels. A middle-aged man wearing a white smock that read MEDICAL EXAMINER on the back stood by.
As they walked away, Bane said, "It's less than a mile back to the motel."
"We'll walk, captain." The Dragon of Midnight shook his head sadly. "The police would not understand, but there was gralic magic in that house tonight. I could sense its residue. The Dragon Pendant has made me sensitive to these things. But the source is not there now."
"Ah. So whatever it is that the killers are looking for, they found it?"
"I think so. It must be something potent, something not only worth taking five lives for but a real prize for a fiend like the Manchurian."
As they hiked along, Bane said, "We need to start questioning the people involved. This morning. There must be something that will point us in the right direction."
The motel was in sight. By now, it was daylight and traffic was whipping past them as they walked alongside the road. Cars slowed at the sight of the two strange men and Bane realized that the news of more killings would spread through the small Connecticut town swiftly. As they went up to the door of his room, he asked, "You feel like we should take a break, Chen?"
"Yes. I know you want to get on the trail, captain. But be realistic. Three or fours sleep and some food will leave us better prepared for the hunt that lies ahead."
"Okay," the Dire Wolf agreed grudgingly. "There's no telling how long we'll be on the go..." He broke off suddenly and raised a hand in warning. Holding the doorknob with his right hand, he reached to his left hip under the jacket and drew his Smith & Wesson .38, then slammed the door open.
Standing inside, watching the two of them, was a tiny elderly man who leaned on a cane. He wore an elaborate brocade silk robe with voluminous sleeves. The man had skin that was a bright unnatural yellow and sharply pointed ears. In a withered face, half-closed black-irised eyes smirked at them.
"Dire Wolf. Dragon of Midnight," the weird-looking old man hissed, "We must talk. I am the Manchurian!"
IV.
Looming up behind the ancient Alchemist was a huge Mongolian, several inches over six feet tall and wide enough to fill the doorway. He wore plain working class clothes, jeans and a flannel shirt that stretched to fit him. In a flat sullen face, his dark eyes fixed on Bane and Chen with hatred he did not even try to conceal.
"Please allow an old man to be seated," the Manchurian asked. Without waiting, the servant brought over a chair and helped the Alchemist lower himself to it. As he sighed with relief, the bizarre old man lowered his head. "The serums are failing me. Age can be stalled and delayed only so long."
Entering their own motel room, Bane and Chen spread out slightly. The Dragon of Midnight stepped over to be on the Mongolian's right side, while the Dire Wolf kept his long-barreled revolver trained steadily on their main enemy. "How'd you know we were even in the area? Or that we were staying here?"
"I saw it in a vision," the Manchurian answered quietly. "More than a month ago. The last time I used the Skull Mug, I beheld this room and the two of you standing just where you are now. I saw the name of this hovel, which is how I knew I would find my traitorous disciple."
Bane slowly lowered the hammer of the Smith & Wesson, swinging its barrel down to point at the floor in front of the Manchurian's slippers. "Tell us more," he said.
"Ah. My most trusted disciple, my protege so to speak, was a man named Chih Yao-Ying. He must have been planning his treason for a long time. One night, he smashed all my lab equipment, poured my serums and potions in the river and fled with what talismans he could carry. He had an escape route ready, from Beijing to Macao to Belgium and finally here, to your country." The wrinkled face was unreadable, but then little emotion could show on that dry shrivelled surface.
For the barest instant, Bane's grey eyes flickered over to Chen. The Dragon of Midnight nodded and said, "The Skull Mug. It is ancient, some say it dates back to the Darthan Age. It is the open skull of a warlock named Ti-Yuan, prepared according to his instructions. Whoever drinks from it has visions of the near future... but the legend says, they always regret it!"
"All too true," the Manchurian put in quietly. "Somehow,Yao-Ying lost several of the talismans he stole from me, and the Skull Mug was one of them. Since I came to this country, it has been a race between us to recover them." Between the single eyelid fold and the deepset wrinkles, only an emerald gleam of the ancient sorcerer's eyes could be seen.
"Why do you come to us?" asked Bane without the slightest warmth.
"Not because I want to," the Manchurian chuckled. "That should be obvious. Tel Shai knights! Always in the way of wiser men. I propose a truce because I have no choice. Without my Velkandu potions, age is sweeping over me. With your help, I have a chance to locate Yao-Ying in time to reclaim my potions and rejuvenate."
Off to the side, Chen Wong-Lai scoffed loudly. "And why do we need you, monster?"
"Ah, I can lead you to Yao-Ying. I can locate him and you can defeat him. Is that not clear?"
For a long moment, Chen and Bane exchanged glances, then both nodded simultaneously. The Dire Wolf slowly holstered his gun. "I know you are not wanted in the United States. As far as I can find out, you haven't committed any crimes here."
"Oh, I have been careful about that," the elderly warlock admitted. "Let us move ahead. You are a realist, Dire Wolf. 'The enemy of my enemy...' "
"Is still my enemy," Bane snorted, "although circumstances may force me to worth with him. All right, Manchurian. Let's get the details understood. We have a truce for the moment. My partner and I will go with you to confront this Yao-Ying. After that, you can claim whatever talismans he has in his possession. BUT get this clear. We will separate after that, and if I ever run into you in America again..."
"I know, I know. You will act as rashly as always," The Manchurian struggled to his feet, leaning heavily on his cane and the huge Mongol took him by one arm to help. "Thank you, Pako. Let us go, then. Will you follow us in your own vehicle?"
"Yeah, I think that's best. Chen?"
The Dragon of Midnight was visibly tense. "These two must wait outside for a moment while I prepare myself, Jeremy. Then we will settle... everything today."
V.
In a seedy apartment on Main and Olive Street on the bad side of the village, Chih Yao-Ying sat at a chipped wooden table. He was ripping chunks off a loaf of French bread and sticking pieces of pork on them from a huge iron bowl of stew. At his right hand was a bottle of Tsing-Tao beer that he had emptied at one gulp. As he chewed noisily, his men sat patiently watching. After a few minutes, he noticed them and motioned for them to help themselves.
As the four thugs got bowls and plates and set to work, Yao-Ying scowled at them. At his elbow sat a cloth bag that closed with a cord. Still chewing, the apprentice Alchemist tugged it open, wiped his hands on a paper napkin and took out a strange yellow-white object. The Skull Mug of Ti-Yuan! It was lacquered and polished, but still unmistakable real bone. The lower jaw was wired on. In the empty eye sockets could sometimes be seen a faint flicker of red light that was inexplicable.
"The Old One is out there searching for us," he announced in a sour voice. "We may have a great advantage over him. But! unfortunately no man can control what sights the Skull Mug will reveal. Therefore each of you will drink from it and tell us what you see. Sing, you first. Pour your beer in here." And he leaned over the table to place the gruesome talisman in front of his oldest and most trusted accomplice.
The man named Sing was hitting fifty, with jowls forming. He hesitated a second too long.
"Do I need to tell you twice!" bellowed Yao-Ying.
"No, no, of course not." Sing popped the cap of his bottle and poured its contents into the Skull Mug. He was clearly not eager to do this, but he raised the mug and took a long swallow before putting it carefully down again. Everyone in the room watched him as he peered around nervously, then began to lean forward and stare at an empty spot in the air just above head level.
"What do you see?" demanded Yao-Ying. He had gotten to his feet but could see nothing where Sing was staring.
"Snow...it's snowing. Heavy snow," Sing whispered. "I see it so clearly. A black car stuck by the side of the road. A big man is pushing against its rear bumper and.. the Manchurian is there!"
"That is no help," Yao-Ying snapped. "Bah. We need the near future. Not this winter. Anything else?"
"No. Just the snow and the car. The Mongol has pushed the car free, he is getting back in."
"You are a great disappointment to me," Yao-Ying told him coldly. "Very well. Ching, you next."
The youngest of the Chinese in that room reached for the Skull Mug, took it over to the sink and rinsed it out, then filled it with fresh tap. He stared at the empty eyeholes of the talisman before raising it to his mouth and drinking deeply. Like Sing, he waited a minute before suddenly rubbed his eyes with his knuckles. Ching shook his head. "The air is foggy," he mumbled. "It swirls and I can see.. see..." He jumped backward and knocked over his chair behind me. "No! NO!"
Yao-Ying swung over and grabbed the man by the shirt to shake him. "Ching! Ching, what is it?"
"I see myself! Being killed by a white man dressed all in black. Here, in this very room! I must get away, at once." He lunged for the door but Yao-Ying backharded him sharply across the face with a hard flat hand and Ching fell to his knees.
"Stop it! You are not going anywhere." He hauled Ching up and flung him roughly into a chair. "You see shadows what might come to pass. The future is not written yet and we will change it. So be it. I myself will drink from Ti-Yuan's head."
Moving slowly and deliberately, the obese ringleader brewed a cup of tea in the microwave, stirred it and sniffed it, then poured it into the gruesome talisman and drank it in a single gulp. He kept his grip on the Skull Mug, casting his eyes in all directions eagerly. "There! I see it, it looks like grey fog coming in..."
For a few minutes, Chih Yao-Ying gazed into space. He shook himself and unexpectedly snorted with laughter. "Perfect! Forewarned is half the battle. All of you, have your weapons ready. Ching, stay behind the front door. The rest of you.. aim your guns right there!" He pointed a meaty finger at a blank spot on the wall in front of him.
VI.
As Bane waited, Chen opened his knapsack and yanked out his uniform. Moving with a quickness from long practice, he stripped down to the same type of bodysuit that Bane wore.. flexible Trom armor, thin as silk but capable of dispersing even a rifle bullet so the wearer felt only a dull thump. The pale gold Dragon Pendant hung over this on its chain. Chen buckled stiff leather cuffs on his wrist, each holding six heavy metal darts. The ones on the left wrist were coded with a blue band. They held the anesthetic. The right hand darts had a right band and held a small amount of the explosive used in the resonance grenades. A hit from one would knock down a grown man, probably with a cracked rib and bad bruising. These were his weapons of choice.
In a few seconds, he had tugged on the all-black Dragon of Midnight uniform based on the one his father had worn decades earlier. The rubber-soled slippers, snug leggings and tunic were the same, with the long sleeved tunic ending in thin cotton gloves. The cowl of the tunic had been drawn up, and under it Chen hid his face behind a full face black mask which was thin as gauze. On the brow of that mask was an outline of a rampant Imperial Dragon in thin white lines.
Clipped at the back of his waistband was a Link and a few other KDF gadgets he had grudgingly agreed to carry. He claimed even that small extra weight affected his sense of balance which was vital to the Fang Lung style, but Bane had insisted until he gave in. As he pulled the snug cowl down over his head, Chen Wong-Lai seemed to hold himself straighter and moved with a new crisp energy.
"That outfit sure changes you," Bane observed. "Sometimes you seem like a different person when you have it on."
"Good," the Dragon of Midnight said. "Jeremy, how soon can we expect the Manchurian to betray us?"
A barely visible smile touched the Dire Wolf's narrow face and he shrugged. "The first instant he can. And he will expect the same of us."
"Of course." Chen went over and opened the door to outside. "I would not expect any different."
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[In the Dragonwing, Chen and Bane follow the Manchurian to a modest house on the outskirts of town. The warlock waits with Pako in his limo while the Tel Shai knights attack. They separate, Chen racing through the gloom around to the other side of the house.
Reluctantly Bane stands in plain view next to the Dragonwing across the street and allows himself to be seen as a distraction. He sees a curtain pulled aside for a second and braces himself for a possible gunshot which does not come. Hurry up, Chen, he thinks, this is nerve-wracking at best.
Using the Dragon Pendant, Chen walks through a wall intending to unlock the back door for Bane but he gets immediately blasted by five pistols and is stunned by the point-blank impact. The Trom armor is good but not perfect and some impact always gets through. Yao-Ying had known they were coming because of his vision from the Skull Mug a few minutes earlier. Hearing the gunfire, Bane hurtles across the sidewalk, dives in through a window in an explosion of glass fragments and is dazed by a cloud of green stinging vapor from Ya-Ying that weakens him. Chen and Bane are tied up and beaten heavily but shortly get loose anyway. They plow through the four henchmen. Yao-Ying uses more Velkandu gas to daze them. He pulls an automatic and has just pressed it to Bane's head when the Manchurian appears in the front door. "YaoYing, you fool! This hour is your last!" He has given his servant Pako a serum that cranks him up to maximum speed and strength. Pako rips Yao-Ying apart and then collapses half dead himself from the exertion.
Still weakened, Bane and Chen expect the Manchurian to try to kill them but he surprises them by taking the Skull Mug and helping Pako back out to the car. He pauses to give them a caustic speech about having honor ("Not that you dogs will understand") before driving away].
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VII.
"There he goes in his Lincoln," Bane said glumly. "I guess he's still able to drive." Turning away from the window, the Dire Wolf went over to a chair and dropped down heavily into it. Chen did the same a second later, groaning as he sat down.
"We sure took a beating this time," the Dragon of Midnight grumbled. He threw back his cowl and unstrapped the full mask to wipe sweat from a bruised face. "Between getting kicked by those bastards and breathing in those fumes, I honestly don't feel too great."
"We'll bounce back fast. The tagra should kick in soon." Bane flexed his shoulders and pulled one arm forward with the other hand, loosening it up. "I'm not too proud of how things turned out, Chen. Being saved by the villain..! That bothers me."
Still leaning back, the Dragon stretched both legs out in front of him. Unexpectedly, he laughed out loud. "The worst part was getting a speech about our attitudes. I never expected a sermon from the Manchurian!"
9/20/2015
