Hour of the Rat (44 page)

ALREADY DECIDED
. His avatar stands up.
SEE YOU SOON
.

Fucking great.

I
SIT THERE AND
have another beer and a shot of one of the infusion things, something involving vodka and ginseng. Thinking about all the times I was missing Lao Zhang and wishing he were here. And now all I can think about is how much I’d rather he stayed away.

Not because of Creepy John, I tell myself. Because it’s not safe.

I
DECIDE TO WALK
home. Get in some PT. Maybe clear my head a little. Hah, I think. With the shit that’s going on, not much chance of that.

It’s chilly out, but not too bad. I’m okay with my knit hat and my collar turned up, and the cold hitting my face is like a shot of espresso. Not that I really want to sober up. Lao Zhang coming back … I can’t even start to figure out what that’s going to mean. Or how I feel about it. Or what the consequences will be.

It’s 12:30
A
.
M
, the Hour of the Rat in Chinese astrology. Maybe that’s why I like this time of night, me being a Rat and all.

I keep heading west, down the dark alleys just south of the
Second Ring Road. It’s quiet here, and I need that right now. When I get to Beiluoguxiang, I’ll go down to Gulou Dong Dajie, the main street that leads back to Old Drum Tower Road. There used to be a
hutong
route all the way across, but the military complex they put in the center of the quarter ruined that. I wonder if they did it on purpose, putting a butt-ugly reminder of who holds the power in the middle of this little piece of old Beijing, with its hipster bars and rock clubs and funky galleries and boutiques.

I turn onto Beiluoguxiang. You’d think with the way Nanluoguxiang’s gone from cool to trendy to commercial that the northern end of the street would be hipper by now, but it’s not. A lot of the little grey buildings are empty, shuttered. Dark. Like this one. Old flyers for an “Evolution Rave” flaking off the painted-over windows, but there’s no music now. No sign of life.

I hear something—a skittering on the pavement to my left. I look. I swear I see the hindquarters and tail of a rat, disappearing up the alley, into a crack in a grey wall.

Then a heavy step behind me and a man’s chuckle.

“You just make it too easy.”

H
E
’
S GOT ONE ARM
wrapped around my neck. His other hand grips my wrist, and he twists my arm up against my back so hard that it feels like my shoulder’s going to pop out of its socket.

“You scream, I’ll break it,” he says.

I’m thinking I should scream anyway. Because I recognize his voice. Buzz Cut. And then Carter steps into my line of sight.

But there’s no one around that I can see. And if there were, would anyone help?

I think about the self-defense stuff I learned. It worked against Russell. But against this guy? And Carter?

Fucking Carter. Seeing him is like a punch in the gut.

“You took the bait,” Buzz Cut says in my ear. “You saw him, I know you did. And this time you’re gonna tell me where he is.”

“Or what?” I manage.

He gives my wrist an extra twist. The surge of pain almost knocks me off my feet. Except of course this asshole is holding me up.

“We’ll think of something. Carter, give me a hand.”

Carter steps out of the shadows. It’s too dark for me to see his face. I lash out with my foot, kick Buzz Cut in the shin, try
to stomp on his foot, but he tightens the arm around my throat, lifts me up so my toes just brush the ground, and I can’t breathe. I land a slap to his crotch, not hard enough to take him out, but enough so that he grunts and jerks forward and my feet are back on the ground. I see Carter at Buzz Cut’s side, and I think he’s going to grab me, but instead he smacks Buzz Cut on the shoulder.

“What the
fuck
?” Buzz Cut yells. The arm around my neck loosens. “You son of a
bitch
!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Carter mutters.

I take in a few gulping breaths. The hand clutching my wrist releases. I stumble away.

“You’re fucking dead,” Buzz Cut says, slurring the words.

I turn. See him stagger backward, fall against the grey brick wall of the abandoned club. “I’m gonna …” he stutters. “I … fuck …”

His knees buckle, and he collapses, landing hard on the dirty concrete.

“Jesus, Doc,” Carter says, and I don’t need to see his face to know how pissed off he is. “I told you these guys are assholes. Couldn’t you have just dropped it, like I said?”

“I … I was going to.” I look down at Buzz Cut. He’s not moving. He’s still breathing, though. I think. “What did you …?”

Carter turns his palm up. He’s holding something, a dark tube the size of a large-caliber bullet or a small cigar.

“What …? Why …?”

He shrugs. “I tried to play
Let’s Make a Deal
. I thought we had one. He said he just wanted to talk to you. But I know this guy, and like I said, he’s an asshole. So I figured I’d better make sure.” He nudges Buzz Cut with the toe of his sneaker. Buzz Cut mumbles something and curls up like a cat trying to take a nap.

“They had guys staking out your apartment,” he continues. “So as soon as you came back into the frame, we were on you.” He shakes his head. “What the fuck, Doc. You have to go wandering down dark alleys half drunk in the middle of the night?”

“I … It’s Beijing. It’s … it’s my neighborhood. It’s safe.”

“Sure, if you aren’t in the middle of some dangerous fucking
shit
. You’re gonna play in this playground, you’d better learn the rules. Unless you got a death wish or something.”

The two of us stand there for a moment, listening to Buzz Cut’s quiet snores.

“What are you gonna do with him?” I ask.

“I dunno. Probably just leave him here. It’s not like he can bitch and get me fired.”

“But … he said he was gonna kill you.”

“Let him try.”

Seeing Carter standing there, I’m thinking that in a battle of the badasses, I would not bet against him.

“He’s got his people. I’ve got mine. And he was out of line.” Carter shrugs. “Let’s get out of here.”

W
E GO TO A
little
hutong
bar I know run by these Mongolian brothers. My throat hurts from being choked and all, and I could use a beer. It’s a cool place, and one of the brothers has a couple of cats he adopted who live there. They like to sleep on top of the crooked bookcases and climb the tree in the middle of the tiny courtyard. Tonight it’s not too crowded. We sit in a corner against the wall, curtained off by a battered wooden screen.

“You need to stop drinking so much,” Carter tells me, pounding his shot of tequila.

I laugh. “Yeah. Right.” I’m drinking Harbin beer.

“Hey,
I’m
not the one who’s on everybody’s shit list. That would be you.”

He doesn’t even know the half of it.

I don’t think.

“So why’d you help me?” I ask.

“We had a deal,” he says, not looking at me. “If you’re gonna horse-trade, you need to be an honest actor. Which that dick was not.” He chugs his Erdinger and laughs. “Nice having an excuse to leave him in a gutter.”

There’s more to it than that, I’m pretty sure.

I study him. He’s close to my mom’s age, maybe a little younger. I never thought about that before, about what kind of life he has when he isn’t being a corporate spy/thug.

“Oh, man, don’t tell me I remind you of your daughter or something.”

He draws back. His face twists like he’s smelled something bad. “My daughter is a straight-A student in college,” he says, sounding pissed.

“Okay, okay. So not that.”

He leans back in his chair. Crosses his arms above his belly. Smiles a little. “More like this crazy Polish girlfriend I had in Estonia. Into vodka and meth. Fucking nuts.”

I hope he’s joking. Because of the many places I do not wish to go, this would be high on my list.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ve outgrown that kind of shit. So should you.”

“Yeah, whatever.” I drink my beer. Pet the black-and-white cat when she winds around my legs.

“What happens if I go to the press?” I finally ask.

“How the fuck should I know? Probably nothing. But hey, you wanna try, I’m not gonna stop you.”

I get us another round of beers and a couple shots for Carter. We drink for a while.

“It might help,” Carter mutters.

“What?”

“Getting the story out there. Embarrassing Eos. You’re already in their sights. You go public, you might get too hot for them to touch.” He drinks some more. Seems to consider. “Or …”

“Or what?”

“You make your own deal. Tell them you
won’t
go to the press, if they leave you alone. If anything happens to you, the information gets released. You know. Preemptive blackmail.”

“What do
you
think I should do?”

He shrugs. “Depends on what you want.”

I think about it. Think about Jason, and Sparrow and Kang Li. Moudzu and Peach Computers. Then I think about the utility of saving my own ass.

“You know what?” Carter says suddenly. He rests his elbows on the table and leans forward. Like he’s about to share a big secret.

“I don’t want my daughter and her kids, if she has them, eating that GMO shit.” He slams his shot. “What kind of a world are we leaving for them anyway?”

I’m pretty sure he’s drunker than I am.

“I don’t know.”

His voice drops to a whisper. “My daughter’s pre-med.”

“That’s really cool,” I say.

I
STAGGER HOME
.

This time when I fumble for my keys, a dog starts barking from inside, toenails scraping against the metal door.

My mom opens the door before I can get my key in the second lock.

“Oh!” She breaks into a smile. Reaches out to hug me. I just kind of stand there. The dog dances around her legs barking.

“Calm down, Mimi!” my mom says, grabbing the dog’s collar. Her hair’s frizzed out, and she’s wearing pajama bottoms and a T-shirt that she must have gotten in Yangshuo, a yin-yang symbol against those freaky mountains.

“Mimi?”

“That’s your friend John’s name for her.”

I step inside. See Andy sitting on the couch in front of the TV, blinking blearily. He, too, is wearing pajama bottoms and a T-shirt.

“We were watching a movie,” my mom explains. “I guess we fell asleep.”

“It’s pretty late.”

“
Ni hao
, Ellie,” Andy says. “Your vacation was good?”

“A blast.”

“Blast?”

“
Hen hao wanr.
” A lot of fun.

The dog nuzzles my free hand.

“Hey, you remember me, dog?” She sits and thumps her tail. “I guess you do.”

She looks good. Her coat shiny and clean. “John had her groomed,” Mom explains. “He’s been back to visit her. I think he’s attached.” She grins slyly. “Maybe not just to Mimi.”

I roll my eyes, scratch the dog behind her ears, the ruff of fur around her neck. Feel the collar. Leather, good quality, with a brass buckle and studs.

“John says you can change her name if you like. He just needed one to register her here in Beijing.” She smiles. “He wanted to take care of that for you.”

“Right.”

Knowing John, I’ll bet he microchipped her.

Andy slowly rises from the couch. Stretches and yawns. “I let you two sleep now.” He passes by my mom, taking a
moment to smile at her. My mom smiles back, and I think she’s blushing.

He pauses by the door. Clasps his hands together and bobs his head in my direction. “Welcome home, Ellie. Have a good rest.”

This strikes me as pretty funny.

I
LIE IN BED
, and tired and drunk as I am, I don’t fall asleep right away. I feel Buzz Cut’s arm against my throat, and my shoulder’s throbbing. Another injury to add to the tally.

It’ll heal, I tell myself. And I don’t know, maybe it was worth it.

I completed the mission. I didn’t wimp out. Maybe I didn’t accomplish much. I didn’t exactly talk Jason into coming home. But at least I can let Dog know he’s okay.

And I’m thinking maybe I
will
go to the press. I know a couple of reporters. Harrison probably knows more.

I’ll have to think hard about what I want to tell them. How much I want to put myself in the story.

As little as possible, I decide. It’s Jason who needs to be the story, not me.

And yeah, maybe it won’t do any good. Jason and me, Moudzu, Sparrow—we’re all pretty far down on the food chain compared to who we’re up against. Just grunts in some generals’ wars.

Worker bees. Ha-ha.

But I think about what John said to me once. About how it’s hard to change things. About how most of us can only do something small. But how, if enough of us try, maybe we can connect all those small things together.

Do something great.

Or who knows? Maybe not. But I might as well try. What else am I going to do?

Tell the Great Community, I think. Let them know what’s going on. They can spread the word, too.

I hear scratching at the door. A low whine.