Second Chance

Chapter 13 - An Unexpected Call

It was not a bright, cheerful Sunday afternoon as what the weatherman had predicted.

Instead, the sky was overwhelmed with emotion, its dense gravel-grey clouds threatening to unleash their tears onto Lingshan Peak below. As the coffins of Ah Ying and Mao-chan were lowered into the ground by four young, sinewy men from the funeral parlour, a bitter wind came sighing from the north. Wearing only thin peasant clothing and black overalls, they could feel the frigid air biting into them. But having lived all their lives in toil and poverty, they had to bear with it; they considered themselves very lucky to have a job, and although they could barely survive on the pittance their tight-fisted employer paid them, it was better than being penniless.

Jake, silent and grim in overcoat, hat, and gloves, stood alone before the stone tablet bearing the names of the dead couple. Since they had no relatives, he had decided to bury them alongside Mei-suet; they had always been close with one another and he felt it was only proper that they were together again in the afterlife.

Wishing to have a few moments of privacy with the deceased, Jake instructed the men to move to a corner and join the Buddhist priest who had earlier chanted some prayers at the graves. He then held the burning incense in his hand and bowed three times at the tablet before placing it into the incense holder.

“My dear Ah Ying and Mao-chan, I will miss you two so very much,” he said in a low tone. “In our three short years spent together, you made me laugh, you were there when I needed a shoulder to cry on, and you stuck with me through all kinds of trouble. Come to think of it, you two were much more to me than employees or even friends, you were like my family. Your presence was a blessing and a gift. Goodbye Ah Ying and Mao-chan, and rest in peace. I swear to you, like I’d sworn to Mei-suet, your senseless deaths shall be avenged.”

Subsequently he tottered over to his wife’s tomb and kneeled before her tablet. “Hi there dear, just want to tell you something which I know you’d disapprove but I am saying it nonetheless because it’s the truth: I still can’t get over your passing, and the feeling is not about to go away any time soon, perhaps never,” he said, his voice choking with emotion. “You know what hurts me the most nowadays? It’s when something funny happens. I’ll be laughing and wanting to share it with you. But the next instant it hits me you are not here anymore – I’ve lost the one thing that matters so much to me.” He paused then produced a half smile. “Anyway, guess what? Yeah, Ah Ying and Mao-chan are here. At last you won’t be so lonely anymore. I know you three are going to have a lot of catching up to do. So have fun, and take good care of yourself, okay? I will catch up with you guys later.”

With that, he gestured to the priest and the four men to return to the graves and continue with their work while he walked away. Something was stirring deep in his gut, and he felt like crying again, but there were no more tears to shed – he had wept enough for the past two days. After mounting his horse, he took a deep breath to steel himself, and headed back home.

When Jake eventually reached his home, Wing-mun was already waiting for him. The mobster did not come to the funeral as he had to attend another one – Master Muk Long’s. The body of the old monk was discovered on the river bank about a mile away from the city, a day after the murder of Ah Ying and Mao-chan. And just like the couple, an autopsy showed that he too had been shot in the head with a .22 S&W cartridge. Jake, who had a fairly good knowledge of guns and explosives, knew it was fired from a Smith & Wesson Ladysmith revolver, as this type of bullet was manufactured exclusively for its use.

“I wish you’d let one of my bodyguards tag along with you, Jake,” Wing-mun said. They were in the living hall sitting by the fire and drinking Cordon Bleu. Fearing Jake might turn suicidal again, he had further delayed his trip back to Shanghai and moved in with him. However, he was much relieved to see that his best friend was in control of himself this time. “You had me worried all day for your safety. There’s an assassin on the loose, you know.”

“Relax, I know how assassins operate,” Jake replied. “I used to be one, remember? But to be honest, I welcome his presence.” There was a fiery red, like an erupting volcano, in his eyes. “I’ll shoot that bastard in so many ways that his own mother cannot recognise him anymore.”

Wing-mun sniffed his Cordon Bleu then gulped it all down. “Correct me if I am wrong, but I think the killing of the old monk and your two employees were committed by the same man,” he mused. “His modus operandi gave him away. And I daresay he has the making of the next Mr Clean.” He paused and poured himself another. “Any idea who he might be? It appears your secret that is kept best of all secrets is known to him.”

“No,” Jake answered, shaking his head. “But from our latest findings, we can strike my ex-sifu off the list. There is no way he can shoot like that with his incapacitated hand.”

“And he is missing,” Wing-mun added. His contacts in Shanghai had informed him and Jake that Lau Beng had not been seen in the city for a long time and his countryside house had been found empty.

“Or maybe even dead.”

“Are you suggesting the bogus Mr Clean killed your ex-sifu too?”

“I am not surprised if he has done so,” replied Jake, sounding a little anxious – despite their differences, he still cared for his ex-sifu. “Why should he leave Lau Beng out when he has already killed all the people who were close to me? Master Muk Long was an exception: he was put to death because he was about to expose his identity.” Suddenly a horrible thought occurred to him. Looking alarmingly at Wing-mun, he muttered, “If he stays true to his set pattern, this could mean he is going to make you his next target!”

Wing-mun appeared surprised. Then he let out a sneering laugh. “I’d like to see him try.”

“This is not a game, Mun Gor,” Jake snapped. “From now onwards you must be on your guard at all times, and try to avoid public places until we find the killer. The last thing I need is another dead close friend on my hands. And you are the only one left.”

Even so the mobster would not give in. All his life no one had dared to lay a finger on him and he was not about to let a trigger-happy moron be the first. He only promised to take every precaution to get Jake off his back – the ex-gunman was staring menacingly at him. Thereafter he leaned back on the couch and took a puff of his cigarette.

“It seems our killer friend is very well-informed of your movements,” Wing-mun commented. “Somehow he knew you would not be in the car that day and he set up an ambush for poor Ah Ying and Mao-chan. We know this because Big Joe discovered two sets of footprints in the snow behind some trees not far from the car wreckage; one set was human-like and the other was animal, most probably a horse. He followed the footprints to the main road where they became untraceable. There were also cigarette butts and matches under the tree. That means the killer had been waiting there for quite some time.”

“And a smart one too,” Jake said, his wry tone indicating he was displeased with the phony Mr Clean outdoing him in the brains department. “I suppose he also knew it would be impossible for us to obtain further clues of his identity from his cigarettes and matches – they are all popular brands and mass-manufactured.”

“Yes,” Wing-mun concurred with him, as he took another healthy gulp of Cordon Bleu. “The only information we have of him so far is that he carries a Ladysmith gun; this does not give much of a lead for my Beijing people to proceed.”

Silence descended over the hall for the next few moments.

“Still, something about this guy doesn’t add up,” Jake finally said. He was holding his own glass, looking as if he was about to take a sip, but had forgotten about it halfway. “If he is such a dead shot with a gun, why did he need Master Muk Long to eliminate Mei-suet in the first place? Furthermore, why must he wait another three years for his next kill? Doesn’t make sense at all.”

Wing-mun regarded him a long while; Jake had no clue as to what was going on in his head. His eyes narrowed. The cigarette remained in between his two fingers. “Good questions there, Jake. Unfortunately, I don’t have the answer. And that, my friend, is bloody frustrating.”

Feeling the same way himself, Jake could only stare at the brandy-filled glass in his hand.

“There is one more thing, Mun Gor,” he said, putting his glass on the table. “This house is giving me too many sad memories. I am planning to move to the factory. There’s a room ready for me – I’d always put up a night there whenever it was too late to return home. It’s small and cosy. Moreover, socialising with the workers will do me a world of good; I won’t get lonely, or worse, go mad.”

“Don’t make any hasty decision now,” Wing-mun advised, deeply concerned. Jake’s words were spilling out in a way that seemed agitated and impulsive. “Your mind is still in a mess. Let this thing blow over first. Decide only then.”

But Jake adamant. “Please don’t try to dissuade me. I’ve already made up my mind.”

The mobster sighed, sounding exasperated. But he said nothing. He knew he would be wasting his breath getting through Jake right now – he had always been a stubborn, headstrong chap. His only course of action was to let Jake simmer down and pray he would have a change of heart.

Another stretch of silence grew between the two friends. It was such a deep kind of hush that, when the telephone rang, they both jumped.

Bulldog, the name of the other bodyguard, answered it. A second later, he looked at Jake and said, “It’s for you, Mr Lone.”

“Who is it?” Jake asked, getting up. “Someone from the factory?”

“I don’t think so. He says his name is Lau Beng.”

Jake was stunned. “My … my ex-sifu? He’s alive?” he spluttered.

“Speak of the devil!” Wing-mun exclaimed, stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray. “Well, don’t just stand there like an i***t, Jake. Go and talk to him quick. He’s the missing piece to the bloody puzzle.”

The two of them ran to the telephone located at the opposite end of the hall and Jake grabbed the receiver from the startled Bulldog; the square-jawed and big-nosed bodyguard with a crew-cut (hence his nickname), wondered what all the fuss was about as he went back to his post.

“Hello Sifu, is that really you?” Jake asked excitedly.

“Hello there, Jake, and yes it’s me,” the raucous voice at the other end answered – Jake at once knew it was Lau Beng’s. But it was kind of shaky, like he was nervous.

“What’s the matter?” Jake asked, his curiosity piqued. “You don’t sound so good.”

“Listen, I don’t have much time, Kit-son is on my tail. Please help me, Jake. He’s going to kill me!”

A couple of lines creased on Jake’s forehead when he heard that. “Who’s Kit-son?”

“That’s the man I recruited to replace you after you’ve left me,” Lau Beng clarified. “He’s good, as good as you, if not better. But I made one fatal error: I didn’t check his background thoroughly. He is the son of one of the guys you’d killed and he’d joined me out of revenge. When he realized that I’d saw through him and all his tricks, he held me prisoner. I just managed to escape from him a while ago.”

“Is Kit-son the one who killed the old monk and my two employees?”

“Correct, correct. Oh, please, no more questions for now, Jake. Save me quick. I’ll tell you everything you want to know later.”

“Where are you now? Are you in Beijing?”

“Yes,” Lau Beng confirmed. “I am now hiding out at the Ban Loong Rice Mills depot on the eastern side of the city. I broke into the manager’s office and used his telephone to call you …” He paused. “Oh no, it’s Kit-son! He is here!”

“Sifu! Sifu!” Jake called out his name, his every muscle tight with anxiety. “Has Kit-son spotted you? Say something, for Christ’s sake!”

Suddenly Jake heard gunshots on Lau Beng’s end. Soon after, the line went dead.