Second Chance

Chapter 16 - Wing-mun's Dark Secret

As the two friends rode towards the west, the night grew ever colder. The only consolation was the glittering stars and the waxing moon – they assisted the riders to see their way through the fog. They saw no sign of troops on the road, only civilians fleeing on foot or on donkey-carts and carrying bundles of their belongings on their backs.

It took them an hour or so to arrive at the monastery. The place was dark and quiet. As they drew near to the wooden gate, they found it shut.

Jake dismounted and knocked hard at the gate. Several moments later, he heard shuffling footsteps approaching from inside. It stopped at the gate.

“Who is it?” a voice inquired; it was squeaky.

Jake immediately recognised it as Fatty’s. “Hi Fatty, it’s me, Jake Lone. Mr Tong is also here. Open up.”

The midget quickly unlocked the gate and let them ride through.

“Please pardon us for locking the gate, sirs; we usually don’t have visitors in the monastery at night,” Fatty said, as he closed the gate behind him. Then with a lantern in hand, he guided the riders to the study. “If you had phoned us of your arrival, we would have kept the arch-lights on and left the doorway open.” He could see in the lantern-light that the two men were shivering with cold. They looked pale and weary too. “What urgent matters bring you here that can’t wait till the morning, may I ask?”

“The Japanese army has attacked the southern part of the city; we barely escaped the mad slaughter,” Jake informed the stunned Fatty. “Where are Lanky and the other monks?”

“M … My seniors are chanting prayers for our late master in the hall,” Fatty stammered, “and Lanky is preparing dinner in the kitchen.”

“Good,” Wing-mun said, alighting from his steed. “Please tell Lanky to bring us some food and a pot of hot tea. We are both famished and freezing.” He then excused himself and dashed straight to the study where the telephone was located.

After Jake and Wing-mun had refreshed themselves and taken their dinner, they called their hosts to join them at the study. By then, Lanky and the other monks had heard from Fatty about the Japanese invasion and they were anxious to learn more of it. They huddled round the table where the two friends were sitting, the blazing fire from the hearth keeping them warm. The winter wind howled chill through the monastery, bearing the damp, earthly scent of the nearby forest with it.

Jake was sitting in silence, deep in thought, and Wing-mun was puffing on a cigarette. The crime lord’s face remained grim and only the flicker in his eyes showed he was distressed. He eventually spoke, carefully choosing his words: “Gentlemen, today General Tang Chok has achieved one of the greatest infamies in history. Upon knowing the Nanking government, with the co-operation of the Manchurian warlord Marshal Zhang Zuo-lin, is about to oust him as supreme leader of Beijing, he invited the Japanese Imperial Army under the command of Colonel Toshiro Namasaki to join him so as to stay in power. For that despicable act, he has betrayed us Chinese. A few hours ago, the enemy attacked the southern part of the city to help General Tang get rid of rebels, resulting in the deaths of thousands of civilians.”

The monks gasped. For several moments after that, they spoke to each other in murmurs, their appearances unsettling. Then Little Lung looked at Wing-mun and said, “Mr Tong, we understand that certain parts of south-west Manchuria are now under the control of the Japanese. And that a Colonel Namasaki is in charge; is he the man you are referring to?”

Wing-mun nodded.

“This man is notoriously known as The Butcher, for he has committed many acts of atrocity; he r***s women then cuts off their breasts; he burns prisoners alive; and he hurls babies into the air and kills them with his bayonet when they fall,” Little Lung muttered, a look of horror on his face. “Why would General Tang want to have anything to do with him?”

“Because our general is a bloody stupid fool, that’s why,” Wing-mun replied tersely. “He thought that with a Japanese army over seventy-thousand strong by his side, he could still continue to rule Beijing. He is gravely mistaken; Colonel Namasaki isn’t the kind of person who likes to share power with anyone, especially a Chinese.”

“What are we going to do now?”

Wing-mun took a glance at Jake; the ex-gunman returned his glance but said nothing. He then looked at the monks. “The way I see it, you have two choices,” he made plain, as he blew out smoke rings. “You can either remain here and chances are, you will be captured and even burned alive by the enemy, as what Little Lung had mentioned; I don’t have to remind you that, due to your head monks’ support of the Anti-Japanese Movement, Colonel Namasaki hates your guts. Or you can go back to the Shaolin Temple in Luoyang, which is a six-day journey by horseback through the woodlands from here. It’s a long, hard ride, yes, but you’ll be free of the enemy’s clutches.”

“Why can’t we take the train?” Fatty asked.

“Use your common sense, boy,” Wing-mun ticked him off. “With the enemy troops covering all major exits from the city, you won’t even make it to the platform.”

“There is another piece of news that we would like to share with you,” Jake said at last. “Earlier today, Mr Tong and I had a lead that your master’s killer was in the city. We were closing in on him when we got side-tracked by the Japanese invasion. Right now the only information we have of the murderer is that he is a hit-man and his name is Kit-son. Anyone of you guys know or heard of him?”

There was another round of murmuring among the monks, their angry tones this time suggesting they wanted justice for their dead master. After that, they looked up at Jake and with a heavy sigh, shook their heads; they had no idea who Kit-son was. But the ex-gunman was not disappointed – he didn’t expect this murder case to be all smooth sailing.

“Your response, of course, has earned you a third choice,” he continued. “You can assist Mr Tong and I to flush out Kit-son while we hide you in our tea plantation disguised as tea-pluckers. There is one slight catch though: we need to go through Devil Falls in order to get there.”

“We can’t enter Devil Falls; have you forgotten about the Yeti?” Fatty said again. Following that he looked nervously at Wing-mun. “Or did I just make another dumb statement?”

Jake smiled. “No, Fatty, I’ve not forgotten about the Yeti. But it’s the only alternate route to the plantation; the Japanese have barricaded the south gate. We just have to be extra vigilant during the journey and avoid running into her.”

“Let us know of your decision tomorrow morning,” Wing-mun interposed. “Now if you will excuse us, we wish to retire early for the night. It has been a very exhausting day for Mr Lone and me.”

“Goodnight, sirs,” Little Lung replied, getting up and bowing to the guests. With that, he led the other monks out of the study. Lanky, who was at the back of the group, shut the door behind them.

Wing-mun was about to light another cigarette when he realized there were only two sticks left in his silver cigarette box. Reluctantly, he replaced the stick and saved them for tomorrow. He then drank his tea, but his throat still felt dry; somehow it didn’t quench his thirst tonight. Finally he said to Jake: “Remind me not to stay at the monastery again. There is a serious lack of cognac in this place!”

“I agree with you whole-heartedly,” Jake concurred, grinning. He then removed his shoes and lay on the kang which was large enough for two persons to sleep in. Apart from the mattress, it also had pillows which were soft as fur and cotton blankets. “By the way, during the meeting with the monks, you left out the part about Marshal Zhang being ordered by the Nanking government to postpone the assault until further notice. Was that intentional?”

“Yes,” Wing-mun replied. “There is no benefit whatsoever in further alarming the monks; the situation here is already very bad as it is. And it’s going to get worse – General Tang’s unexpected move has caught everyone by surprise. The top brass in Nanking, already having its hands full with the Communists, is not going to commit itself to go against the powerful Japanese war machine anytime soon.”

“Looks like we are on our own.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Wing-mun commented. “My man in Nanking was updating me when the line suddenly went dead; the Japanese have cut the telephone lines. Beijing is now totally isolated from the outside world.” He sighed, covering his face with his hands. “Oh God, I’ve never felt so helpless since … since …” His voice trailed off.

Jake sat up and cast him a long look – this was the second time tonight he had shown his vulnerability, a complete contrast to his tough and hard-hearted character. “Since what, Mun Gor?” he asked in a gentle tone. “You can tell me – we are sworn brothers. There are no secrets between us.”

Wing-mun did not say anything at first. He walked towards the windows and opened them; a gust of wind, howling and icy, slapped his face. Yet he didn’t move away; he allowed the wind to slap him harder, as if he wanted the cold to numb his heartache. Then he turned and looked at Jake.

“I was only eighteen then, a time when the foreign devils were already treating us Chinese like dogs,” he said, his voice almost like a whisper that Jake had to strain his ears in order not to miss his words. “My younger sister and I were working in a teahouse in the Japanese section of Shanghai. Because of her charming and pretty features, the boss gave her a job of a waitress while I was a dish-washer.”

“You never told me you’d a sister,” Jake said, looking surprised.

“No, I didn’t,” Wing-mun answered with a shrug. “A year younger than me, she and I were very close. I took care of her, always acting as her protector; if anyone so much as laid a finger on my sister, I’d break their legs, you get the picture? Anyway, to cut the story short, a small group of drunken Japanese soldiers came to the teahouse late one night. Toshiro Namasaki, then a young captain, was one of them. He took a fancy to my sister and called her over. But he went too far and she screamed for help. I rushed out of the kitchen with a chopper and despite being outnumbered six to one, managed to kill two before I was brought down by the others.”

Wing-mun stopped talking. He closed the windows and returned to his chair. Then he began again. “To make me pay for my mistake, I was tied to a pole and bayoneted. While I bled, I watched helplessly as Namasaki and his men took turns to r**e my sister then tortured her by cutting off her breasts and inserting a piece of burning firewood in her v****a. She was wailing in unimaginable pain, but nobody dared to come to her aid. My sister died a horrible death.”

Jake gaped at his friend. “The woman’s name you mentioned earlier … Mui-foong … was she your sister?” he asked.

“Yes, that’s correct,” Wing-mun replied. “And by right, I should have died together with her that night; I was bayoneted not once but three times. But somehow or rather, I managed to pull through. The doctors at the hospital were rendered speechless; they never expected me to survive.”

“You’re not that easy to kill, Mun Gor.”

A slight smile flickered over Wing-mun’s face. Thereafter, he stood up and peered at his friend. “Let me tell you this,” he declared, his eyes like blazing fire. “After that day, if I were to be given one bullet to kill either a venomous cobra or a Japanese soldier, I’ll choose the latter without a second thought.”

The crime czar’s threatening expression could scare anyone out of their wits, except Jake; he had already got used to it. And he was glad – the Tong Wing-mun he knew was back.