Qiu Xiaolong - A Loyal Character Dancer

Four or five axes came whirring through the air. Aware of Catherine returning with the bottles, Chen instinctively flung up the rattan chair in front of him. The axes crashed into it so heavily he took a step back, involuntarily.

Behind him, Catherine squatted, filling bottles with chemicals, Wen stuffing the bottle tops with rags.

“Have you a light, Catherine?” he asked.

She searched her pockets. “The hotel matchbook-a souvenir of Suzhou.” She struck a match.

Grabbing the bottle from her, he hurled it toward the house where the gangsters had taken shelter. There was a blast. Flames shot up with dazzling colors. She lit the second bottle for him. He tossed it toward the barn. It exploded more loudly, and the acrid smell of the burning chemicals filled his nostrils.

It was a moment Chen could not afford to waste. In the confusion brought on by the explosions, they might stand a chance.

He turned to Wen, “Is there a shortcut out of the village across the creek?”

“Yes, there’s hardly any water in the creek now.”

“There’s a door to the backyard, Catherine. Break it down, run out with Wen, and cut across the creek to the car.” He handed the gun to her. “Take the gun. There are only three bullets left. I’ll cover you.”

“How are you going to do that?”

“With Molotov cocktails. I’ll throw out several bottles.” He plucked the ax out of the door frame. Soon, perhaps, he would have to use it. A kung fu miracle was possible only on the screen. “I will catch up with you.”

“No. I can’t leave you here like this. The local police must have heard about the fighting. They should arrive any minute.”

“Listen, Catherine,” Chen said, his throat dry. “We cannot hold out for long. If they start attacking us from both front and back, it will be too late. You have to go now.”

So saying, he started to throw the bottles, one after another, in quick succession. The path was engulfed in smoke and flames. Amidst the explosions, he heard Catherine and Wen pounding at the back door. He had no time to look over his shoulder. A gangster was rushing at him, axes flashing through the smoke. Chen hurled a bottle at him, and then the ax.

Nobody came through the fading smoke.

Great, he thought, clutching one of the remaining bottles, when he heard a loud gun shot at the back of the house. There was a thud.

Spinning around, he saw Catherine pulling Wen back into the house. A masked face was rising over the backyard wall, then two hands, and then shoulders. She shot again. The Flying Ax toppled backward.

“The bitch has a gun!” someone shouted outside.

With Chen in front, and Catherine in back, the gangsters were temporarily stopped, but it would only be a few minutes before they resumed their attack.

There was only one bullet left in the gun.

That couple of minutes proved, however, to be more crucial than he had imagined.

He heard a siren coming from a distance, then a car screeching into the village. Hurried footsteps. Blurred shouting. Frantic barking.

He charged out, clutching the last two Molotov cocktails amidst an outburst of gunfire. A volley of bullets was directed at the gangsters sheltered by the house across the lane. Another fusillade of bullets rained onto the barn, which at once burst into new flames. The triad men scrambled out and fled.

“Cops!”

In a matter of a few seconds, only bodies scattered on the ground remained. Armed policemen were chasing the running men, guns held high.

To his amazement, Chen saw Yu coming toward them, waving a pistol.

The battle was over.

Detective Yu!” Chen grasped Yu’s hand.

“It’s good to see you, Chief.” Yu was too excited to say more.

Catherine clasped Yu’s other hand, her face smudged, her blouse torn at the shoulder. “I’m so glad to see you here, Detective Yu.”

“Me too, Inspector Rohn. I am happy to meet you.”

“I thought you were on your way back to Shanghai,” Chen said.

“My plane was delayed. So I checked my phone one more time before boarding. I got the message left by Inspector Rohn that no one had picked you up at the station.”

“When did you place that call, Inspector Rohn?”

“While we were waiting for you to rent a car.”

“The absence of the local police at the station did not make sense,” Yu said. “The more I thought about it, the more suspicious it appeared to me. After all those accidents, you know-”

“Yes, I do.” Chen had to cut Yu short. It was more than suspicious, he knew. Inspector Rohn knew, too. The fact that she had mentioned the absence of the local cops in her message spoke for itself. Still, they did not have to discuss this problem in front of her.

“So I approached the airport police and got a jeep from them. Some of them rode back with me. I had a hunch.”

“A good hunch.”

As they were talking, Chen heard more cars and people arriving. Looking up, he was not too surprised to see Superintendent Hong, the head of the Fuzhou Police Bureau, leading a group of armed policemen.

“I’m so sorry, Chief Inspector Chen,” Hong said in a voice full of apologies. “We missed you at the station. My assistant made a mistake about the arrival time. On our way back to the bureau, we heard about the fight and rushed over.”

“Don’t worry, Superintendent Hong. It’s all over now.”

The belated appearance of Hong and his men was intended to be a footnote to a finished chapter.

Was it possible for Chen to attempt to remedy the situation here and now? The answer was no. As an outsider, he had to congratulate himself on being lucky as it was. Their mission was completed, none of them had been seriously hurt, and a handful of gangsters had been punished. He simply said, “The Flying Axes are well-informed. We hardly reached the village when they came upon us.”

“Some village folks must have spotted Wen and informed them.”

“So they got the news faster than the local police.” Chen found it hard not to be sarcastic.

“Now you know how difficult things can be here, Chief Inspector Chen,” Hong said, shaking his head before he turned to Inspector Rohn. “I’m sorry about meeting you like this, Inspector Rohn. I apologize on behalf of my colleagues in Fujian.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me, Superintendent Hong,” Inspector Rohn said. “I thank you for your cooperation on behalf of the U.S. Marshals Service.”

More policemen appeared to clean up the battlefield. There were several wounded gangsters lying on the ground. One of them might be dead. Chen was about to interrogate another who was muttering something to a local cop, when Hong made a request.

“Can you explain a Chinese proverb for me, Chief Inspector Chen- Mogao yice, daogao yizhang?”

“The literal translation is this: The devil is ten inches tall, and the way, or justice, is a hundred inches tall. In other words, powerful as evil is, justice will prevail.” The original proverb actually read the other way around. The ancient Chinese sage had been more pessimistic about the power of the evil.

“The Chinese government is determined,” Hong declared pompously, “to deal a crushing blow to all evil forces.”

Chen nodded as he observed a policeman kicking a wounded gangster viciously and cursing, “Damn it! Shut up with your damned Mandarin.”

The gangster uttered a blood-chilling scream that cut into their conversation like another flying ax.

“I apologize, Inspector Rohn,” Hong said. “Those gangsters are the worst scum under the sun.”

“I have had my fill of apologies every day I’ve spent here,” Detective Yu remarked bitterly, crossing his arms. “What a Fujian experience!”