David Rotenberg - The Hua Shan Hospital Murders

On the roof he unearthed the cage with its gruesome contents from a pile of discarded shingle tiles and hooked it on his back. Going down was more complicated but no problem for a world-class rock climber like Angel Michael.

He put the cage down on the ground to the side of the window ledge and slid back into the surgery, standing on the cart. Then he heard the door open. He jumped down, grabbed a rag, and started cleaning the stainless steel surgical table. Four soldiers ran in with arms drawn. Angel Michael stood back and held up his hands. One of the soldiers barked out, “Turn around and put your hands up against the wall.”

As Angel Michael turned he realized that the small window high up the wall was open! But the soldiers were so busy searching him that they never looked up. When they were done they shooed him out of the room with the instruction, “Go clean somewhere else.”

Fong paced back and forth in the rear of the old theatre. Onstage technicians hung, dropped, then re-hung lights. Chinese theatre technicians were not theatre specialists. They were workmen – in this case, electricians – seconded to work on productions in the final days before opening. It was hardly an ideal situation.

Fong had already given the stage manager a note to deliver to Tuan Li. He was anxious to apologize. Insulting Tuan Li had been like insulting his dead wife, Fu Tsong. But just as he took a seat a female voice called his name. He turned. It was not Tuan Li. It was Lily.

And she was furious.

Angel Michael moved away from the surgeries and dragged his cart up the stairs. He didn’t know this part of the hospital but he needed to find a way out to the courtyard to retrieve the cage and RDX explosive he’d left there. He tried the first two offices but they were locked. He reached for the knob on the third door, to the office right above the first OR, and the handle turned. He shut the door behind him and turned on the light. To his surprise this was not a single office but a warren of small labs. With a shock he realized that these were police forensic labs.

Then he saw the photo on the main desk. He’d seen the woman before – and the man – outside the hospital – speaking English. She had been the one who had the antique fresco sent to the hospital that had interrupted his first attempt to plant his bomb at the Hua Shan Hospital. She was the one who upset his schedule so that the American newspapers were now claiming that there had been no second blast – that it was an industrial accident. This woman had cast doubt on his entire enterprise.

He picked up the photo. The two adults were huddled around a small creature – a baby. He pocketed the photo then hunted for an address. It didn’t take him long to find it. To his delight it was a simple walk away – to the Shanghai Theatre Academy. Mani had said “a believer must fight those who would keep the light from the world.”

And as Angel Michael made his way to the theatre academy that was precisely what he was planning to do.

Fong’s cell phone rang as he and Lily entered their apartment. Lily looked at him – well not really looked, no, dared would be a more accurate description. She dared him to answer his cell phone. So he didn’t. It continued to ring. Xiao Ming began to cry.

“Xiao Ming’s crying,” Fong said.

“I’m not deaf, Fong,” snapped Lily and folded her arms across her chest. Fong’s cell phone stopped ringing. There was a moment where the only sound in the room was Xiao Ming’s sobbing. Fong looked at the fresco on the wall beside the window. The Western man seemed to radiate light and serenity. “We could use a bit of both of those in here, now,” he thought. He reached over and turned on the overhead light.

“Turn that off.”

He did.

“What are you smiling at, Fong. There’s nothing funny here.”

Xiao Ming’s crying became more emphatic. Fong’s cell phone rang again. “Lily, can this wait?”

“For what?”

“A better time. A time when . . .”

“When you can think of a good explanation for your behaviour? No. I don’t think this can wait. And turn off that cell phone.”

He did – mid-ring. Xiao Ming stopped crying instantly. The silence in the apartment was thick with possibilities. Lily bit her lip and turned away from Fong. Finally he said, “I don’t deserve you.”

“No. You don’t.”

A long silence.

“Well, at least we agree on that.”

“This is not funny, Fong. Not funny. We are married. You are married to me. We have a baby. Fu Tsong is dead. I never asked you how or why she died. But she is dead. She must not come between us now.” Suddenly she was crying. Through her tears she barked out, “I can’t compete with a famous actress. Especially a famous dead actress.” Then she stomped her foot and screamed, “Not fair. This is not fair.”

Instantly, Xiao Ming began to wail. Fong’s cell phone didn’t ring because its ringer was turned off but he felt it vibrate in his pocket.

“Lily, listen to me. Lily.”

“I’m listening.”

“I do things. They sometimes hurt people. I don’t mean to hurt people but sometimes I do.”

“What things do you do that hurt people? Why do you hurt people? Why do you hurt me? Why were you in that theatre just now? What is happening between us?”

He took a deep breath. He felt as if he were in the middle of a swinging bridge over a vast gorge. He and Lily were somehow there together and he had set alight the rope cables on either end. The bridge was swinging and he had no idea who, if anyone, would make it back alive.

“I’m afraid.”

“Of what?”

He took another deep breath. “I have always been alone Lily. With people, but alone. Fu Tsong helped me with that but only a little.”

“And me? Do I help you with that? I’d prefer that you don’t say her name in our home again, Fong.”

That stunned him. “She was part of me.”

“But not part of me or of us, Fong. You and me and Xiao Ming. Not part of us.” She leaned against the wall.

“Okay.”

“So answer the question.”

Fong sensed that the rope cable on their swinging bridge was beginning to fray, “Do you help? That question?”

“That question, Fong.”

The bridge began to rock violently, “No, I’m sorry but you don’t help with that, Lily.”

It was as if the cable snapped. Lily gave way and slid down the wall she was leaning against so that she was on the floor with her knees up by her shoulders. She began to cry. Xiao Ming joined in.

Another cable snapped. Fong plummeted toward the roiling water of the gorge beneath.

Fong went into their bedroom and picked up Xiao Ming. When he came back into the living room, Lily was on her feet drying her tears. Without saying a word she took Xiao Ming from his arms and headed toward the door.

As she reached for the door handle Fong knew he should ask, “Where are you going?” but he didn’t. When she threw open the door both of them were surprised to see Captain Chen.

“Sorry. Am I interrupting something, Miss Lily?”

“Lily, not Miss Lily and no you are not, Captain Chen. Xiao Ming and I were just on our way to my mother’s place. We thought we’d spend some time there. Perhaps a decade or two.” She pushed past Captain Chen who looked in at Fong. “Sorry, sir, but you didn’t answer your cell phone.”

Fong looked at the young man. “Have you found something?”

“About the cage, yes. I think I found who made them.”

As Fong and Chen raced out they passed right by a beautiful young Chinese man – a man whose photograph they had drawn from a VHS tape – Angel Michael. The man watched Fong and Captain Chen go and then turned in the other direction and followed Lily and Xiao Ming. Mani was clearly guiding him now. Mani had divided the family for him. A plan was coming into clear focus. The pathway to return the light was opening before him.