down upon Tang, who still sat cross-legged on the floor near the coffee table. Fifteen seconds sailed by without his presence being acknowledged. It would be easy for him to kill Tang. He could simply reach out his hand it would take so little to rid the country of one more zealot.
However, the old man’s instructions had been clear: catch the next flight to Nanning and bring the dissident back to Shanghai for questioning. Junior Agent Ho Lon-Yi had no desire to anger his uncle. After all, he had been chosen over more experienced colleagues for this tricky business. Obviously, people in high places had noticed his abilities.
Yi opened the can of kerosene. The movement caught Tang’s attention.
“ What are you doing?” Tang shouted.
Yi continued to splash the accelerant onto Tang.
“ Where is your wife?” he demanded.
“ Stop! Please don’t do this.” Tang struggled to his feet and tried vainly to rub the kerosene off his naked body. He started to run, but the intruder blocked him, and he found himself staring down the barrel of a gun.
“ Be calm,” Yi said. “All I want is some answers. Tell me, Wu Tang, what are you doing in such a fine establishment? You must be meeting somebody very special. Are you meeting your wife?”
“ My wife,” Tang stammered, “is in prison. She was taken months ago. I haven’t seen her since.”
“ Don’t play with me!” Yi shouted, slapping Tang with his left hand. “We are looking for Gui-Jing. We know you helped her to escape.”
“ I don’t know what you are talking about.” Tang’s voice rose with fear.
“ Sure you do.” Transferring the gun to his left hand, Yi reached for the yellow candle with his right. He stepped toward Tang, waving the flame dangerously close to his kerosene-soaked arms.
Tang panicked, trying once more to run past Yi and out of the room.
“ Stop! You idiot!” Yi shouted, blocking Tang’s escape. The candle’s wick made contact with Tang’s underwear, and before either man could react, Tang was transformed into a tower of flames.
Shocked, Yi jumped backward. Time stood still as he watched Tang gyrate and wail. The sudden heat caressed his face, and he checked his clothes to be sure they were not burning.
Not knowing what else to do, Yi lifted a chair from under the dressing table and used it to smash the picture window. The rush of night air must have confused Tang, because one poke with the chair convinced him to hurl himself through the broken window to the ground six floors below.
Yi stood for an instant, absorbed in the unreality of what had transpired. This was not supposed to happen. He had obtained no information whatsoever, and in the process he had created an embarrassing mess.
His clothes were clean, but his hands up to the wrists were black from handling the burning man for that brief second. Not wanting to set the blackened chair legs onto the carpet, he carried it into the bathroom with him. Once there, he washed his hands thoroughly before wiping down all surfaces. He used tissue to scrub the black char stains from the chair legs, as well as from its wooden frame. He tossed the tissue into the toilet and flushed it away. Thankfully he had not touched the chair’s upholstery, so it was clean.
He hurried back to the main room and replaced the chair under the dressing table. Then, as he had been trained to do, he re-traced his steps, rapidly wiping any surface he might have touched. He scanned the still-darkened room once more for evidence. He couldn’t remember whether he had touched the book of matches on the coffee table, so he grabbed it and tucked it into his pocket.
On the floor near his feet was the yellow candle. Yi used his sleeve to pick it up. It was too bulky to slip into his pocket with the matches. Not sure about the best course of action, he wiped it clean and placed it on its side on the bedspread before hurrying out of the room.
Yi knew his efforts at cleaning up had been rushed and
However, the old man’s instructions had been clear: catch the next flight to Nanning and bring the dissident back to Shanghai for questioning. Junior Agent Ho Lon-Yi had no desire to anger his uncle. After all, he had been chosen over more experienced colleagues for this tricky business. Obviously, people in high places had noticed his abilities.
Yi opened the can of kerosene. The movement caught Tang’s attention.
“ What are you doing?” Tang shouted.
Yi continued to splash the accelerant onto Tang.
“ Where is your wife?” he demanded.
“ Stop! Please don’t do this.” Tang struggled to his feet and tried vainly to rub the kerosene off his naked body. He started to run, but the intruder blocked him, and he found himself staring down the barrel of a gun.
“ Be calm,” Yi said. “All I want is some answers. Tell me, Wu Tang, what are you doing in such a fine establishment? You must be meeting somebody very special. Are you meeting your wife?”
“ My wife,” Tang stammered, “is in prison. She was taken months ago. I haven’t seen her since.”
“ Don’t play with me!” Yi shouted, slapping Tang with his left hand. “We are looking for Gui-Jing. We know you helped her to escape.”
“ I don’t know what you are talking about.” Tang’s voice rose with fear.
“ Sure you do.” Transferring the gun to his left hand, Yi reached for the yellow candle with his right. He stepped toward Tang, waving the flame dangerously close to his kerosene-soaked arms.
Tang panicked, trying once more to run past Yi and out of the room.
“ Stop! You idiot!” Yi shouted, blocking Tang’s escape. The candle’s wick made contact with Tang’s underwear, and before either man could react, Tang was transformed into a tower of flames.
Shocked, Yi jumped backward. Time stood still as he watched Tang gyrate and wail. The sudden heat caressed his face, and he checked his clothes to be sure they were not burning.
Not knowing what else to do, Yi lifted a chair from under the dressing table and used it to smash the picture window. The rush of night air must have confused Tang, because one poke with the chair convinced him to hurl himself through the broken window to the ground six floors below.
Yi stood for an instant, absorbed in the unreality of what had transpired. This was not supposed to happen. He had obtained no information whatsoever, and in the process he had created an embarrassing mess.
His clothes were clean, but his hands up to the wrists were black from handling the burning man for that brief second. Not wanting to set the blackened chair legs onto the carpet, he carried it into the bathroom with him. Once there, he washed his hands thoroughly before wiping down all surfaces. He used tissue to scrub the black char stains from the chair legs, as well as from its wooden frame. He tossed the tissue into the toilet and flushed it away. Thankfully he had not touched the chair’s upholstery, so it was clean.
He hurried back to the main room and replaced the chair under the dressing table. Then, as he had been trained to do, he re-traced his steps, rapidly wiping any surface he might have touched. He scanned the still-darkened room once more for evidence. He couldn’t remember whether he had touched the book of matches on the coffee table, so he grabbed it and tucked it into his pocket.
On the floor near his feet was the yellow candle. Yi used his sleeve to pick it up. It was too bulky to slip into his pocket with the matches. Not sure about the best course of action, he wiped it clean and placed it on its side on the bedspread before hurrying out of the room.
Yi knew his efforts at cleaning up had been rushed and
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