“Fortune and misfortune are unpredictable.”- Chinese Idiom

  Hangzhou, China – October 20th, 10 PM

  Alone in his office, Man Zhu Bai pores over the case report, combing through it for leads. As a cop, he’s used to the worst of humanity—rapists, abusers, murderers. But this case is getting to him. Knowing human trafficking exists is one thing; seeing the fear in its victims’ eyes is another. These women were targeted because of their innocence.

  Every time he closes his eyes he is back in the container yard- the stench of sweat and iron, the clank of the chains hitting the ground. The door swings open on well-oiled hinges and light fills the hold. Except in his nightmare instead of six young women, there is only one. She lies broken and lifeless, on the floor. When he steps closer he can see her face—Lina’s face.

  He forces the image away. As a father and a cop, he can’t afford to let these thoughts consume him or he won’t be able to do his job. He makes himself turn off the computer and go home to get some rest, before he is completely useless.

  The first thing he does when he enters the door is go straight to Lina’s room to check on her.

  To his surprise, she isn’t asleep. Her eyes are squeezed shut a little too tightly, and the room is silent instead of filled with her usual soft snore. The corner of a photo peeks out from under her pillow. He tugs the picture free, wondering what she’s afraid he’ll see.

  In the photo is a twenty-two-year-old version of himself standing beside a lovely young woman with the same eyes as Lina. They are wearing matching white shirts. His mom snapped the picture after they returned from the Civil Affairs Bureau with their marriage registration book.

  “Is it my fault mom left?” Lina whispers, giving up the pretense of sleep. For the second time that day, Man Zhu Bai feels like his heart is in a vice. Even if he could protect her physically from danger, her tender heart is still so easily bruised.

  Man Zhu Bai sits on the bed. “Where would you get a silly idea like that?”

  “Was I a bad baby?” she asks, her voice small.

  Man Zhu Bai gently pinches her cheek. “You were the cutest baby in the world.”

  Lina’s eyes brighten at his teasing, but it doesn’t last long. Some voids can’t be filled, no matter how hard a father tries. He knows she’s growing up, and he can’t protect her from the truth. He explains as gently as he can, “Your mom wasn’t ready to be a parent.”

  “Were you ready?” she asks.

  “Nope, but it was winter, and I needed a warm coat.” He teases, then tickles the spot under her chin, making her giggle. “Time for you to go to sleep.”

  Man Zhu Bai stands and pulls the blankets over her. He kisses her forehead and places the picture back under the pillow. A daughter truly is the warmth in a father’s life.

  ***

  “It’s past time for you to consider getting remarried,” he hears his mother say as he steps into the kitchen. If Lina is his padded jacket, his mother is his shelter from the storm. She has been there for him through his divorce and gave up her career at the Urban Affairs Office to take care of Lina when she was a baby. He doesn’t like disappointing her, but he isn’t interested in making the same mistake twice.

  “Work is crazy right now,” he says, trying to put the discussion. “I don’t have time to date.”

  “You had time to take Lina’s teacher to lunch,” she points out.

  “That was different,” he says, but the memory of Lina’s happy chatter as Hailee walked her back to school lingers, lightening some of the shadows from the day.

  “You need to be careful,” she warns. “You don’t want to give anyone the wrong impression.”

  Too tired to debate, he deflects. “Is there anything to eat? I haven’t had dinner.”

  Bai Jie Su pulls leftovers from the fridge, but she doesn’t let up. “Lina’s teacher is young and vulnerable. It would be easy for her to misinterpret your consideration as flirtation.”

  “You’re overthinking?” Man Zhu Bai brushes aside her concern as he steals a piece of braised pork from the pan.

  “Exactly my point.” Bai Jie Su knocks his hand away and scoops a fresh bowl of rice. “It’s better to draw a clean line so there aren’t any misunderstandings.”

  “I’m too busy to flirt.” He gestures to his plate. “Look, I’m only eating dinner now, and I need to be back at the station first thing.”

  His mother looks at the dark circles under his eyes and relents. “Fine. But I’m putting together a list of suitable candidates.”

  His mother ruffles his hair, just as she has since he was a toddler in split pants, before heading to bed. Left alone with his meal, he can’t help but think how nice it would be to share his concerns with someone with a pair of sympathetic blue eyes.

  Boston, MA – October 20th, 10:00 AM

  The atmosphere in the bullpen tenses when Lt. O’Shea steps in. The officers know he's been running on coffee fumes all week, and the Coast Guard has just reported that the yacht Vasak’s Toy is registered to an Armenian national named Anton Petrov. In other words, the case has hit a dead end.

  Anton Petrov is the youngest son of Petrov Diamonds. His family has a monopoly on Armenia’s precious metal and gem mines, with strong ties to Russian gas and oil. Even if he hadn’t already fled into international waters, they’d have had a hell of a time getting a search warrant.

  No one breathes easy until they hear O’Shea’s office door slam shut.

  Inside his office, O’Shea finds a note from HR about a new mandatory officer-friendly seminar. Time better spent on the street, he thinks, not wasting hours in a classroom doing ice-breaker nonsense and learning to use the magic word when perps are shooting at you.

  He’s tempted to tell HR to shove their invitation where the sun don’t shine, but he knows that would add more paperwork to the stack already a mile high on his desk. Instead, he searches for his glasses, finding them in his right-hand drawer just as the landline rings.

  “O’Shea,” he answers curtly.

  “Hello, Lt. O’Shea. This is Charlie ‘Chip’ Johnson, an interpreter. I have Agent Kang Jia Zan from the Chinese Anti-Smuggling Bureau on the phone.”

  “Is this a joke?”

  “No, sir. He’s been calling all week. Didn’t you get the messages?”

  “What’s he want?”

  “He refuses to say until he speaks to you.”

  O’Shea rubs his tired eyes, pushing his glasses up.

  “Put him on.”

  ***

  Hangzhou, China – October 20th, 11:00 PM

  Kang hangs up the phone with the USA. What should have been a twenty-minute call took more than double the time due to the need for an interpreter. It will be worth it if this O’Shea guy keeps Anna safe when she returns.

  He turns back to the CCTV footage, scrolling through hours of video from inside and outside the mall. There are dozens of Caucasians coming and going each day—between twenty to fifty, depending on the time. More than half of them are male. He uploads the suspects' photos into the system, but the facial recognition software still takes its sweet time sorting through thousands of faces.

  If he’s lucky, it might only take a few days to track down the kidnappers. But if they’ve already left the area or gone into hiding, it could take weeks, or months if they’ve fled the country. If they catch them it might lead to other drop points and hideouts that Shi Zhi is using around the city. He hopes luck is on their side and time doesn’t run out.

  ***

  Hangzhou, China – October 21st, 10:30 AM

  The sandalwood scent tickles Ryan’s nose as he goes through the motions of offering prayers for Waigong’s health in honor of his 86th birthday. He bows three times to the Buddha sitting loftily between his attendants. He wonders if the ascetic figure secretly enjoys the grandiosity of his surroundings or if the hypocrisy of being immortalized in gold and surrounded by priceless relics is lost on him.

  As Ryan drops the red envelope into the donation box, he catches a glimpse of the face he’s been hoping to see—just on the edges of a passing tour group. He glances back at the wry Buddha. Maybe karma is real after all. Or maybe it’s a matter of ‘those who give shall be rewarded”.

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  ***

  Lingyin Temple feels like a world outside of time, Anna thinks as she and Hailee stroll down a path lined with pines and cypress trees. It’s one of those places where you wouldn’t blink twice to see a dragon sunning itself by a stream or a fairy perched on a leaf. But those creatures are not always benevolent.

  Anna glances over her shoulder. She keeps getting the feeling of being watched. Is she paranoid?

  “What’s the matter?” Hailee asks.

  “I keep feeling like I’m being stared at?”

  Hailee shrugs. “You get used to it. I’ve even had people take my picture.”

  Anna scans the crowd for lingering eyes or a camera pointed her way, but no one stands out. She needs to get her anxiety under control. Hailee points out the figures carved into the cliffs, and Anna lets herself once again be drawn into the beauty and reverence surrounding her.

  ***

  Ryan watches as Anna points toward the Laughing Buddha, her expression lighting up as she speaks to the woman beside her. Based on their resemblance, it must be the sister she talked about. To Ryan, her grin is ten times more stunning than any ancient statue.

  He’s spent the last twenty minutes debating if he should seek her out directly or position himself in her path and let her approach him. This new feeling of uncertainty is irritating. He’s never been one to hesitate.

  Ryan starts moving through the crowd along the viewing barrier, closing the distance between them. He gets close enough to hear their conversation.

  “I’m glad it’s just us today,” Anna says. “We haven’t had enough time together.”

  “I can’t believe tomorrow is your last day.”

  Damn, Ryan exhales in frustration. After hearing that it would be inconsiderate of him to interrupt. He can’t stand the idea of her pretending to be happy to see him out of politeness. He wants their reunion to be heartfelt.

  He steps back. He’ll wait a little longer when all her attention can be on him. They’ll be back in Boston soon, without any more distractions to get in the way.

  ***

  The tour guide leads them to a side hall, where Anna’s attention is drawn to a rattling sound. A teenage girl shakes a long tube of sticks, withdrawing one and handing it to a monk.

  “What’s that?” Anna asks.

  “Fortune sticks,” Hailee explains. “The number on the stick is tied to a verse that the monk interprets.”

  “Let’s do it.” Anna is already on her way over. Hailee makes a small donation and Anna hands her the tube, letting her go first.

  Hailee shakes the sticks, and one falls loose—seven. The monk checks the number, studying Hailee closely, his gaze lingering on her brow before reciting her fortune.

  “The lotus blooms in the murky water, yet the roots remain hidden in the deep. To see the beauty above, one must dive below. Trust the silence within.”

  Hailee thanks him and hands the canister to Anna.

  Anna gives it a good shake, drawing the number three. The monk’s gaze shifts between her head and chest—his focus settling on her heart.

  “The bamboo stands tall, yet its hollow core is unseen by the world. Until the wind stirs its branches, it will never know the dance of the breeze.”

  Hailee translates, and Anna nods in thanks.

  As they walk away, Anna nudges Hailee playfully. “Guess I’m the stick, and you’re the flower, huh?”

  They wander through the vendors outside the temple, tables filled with handcrafted goods. Anna picks up a painted fan adorned with lotus flowers. “You should get—”

  She freezes. The fan clatters onto the table as she grabs Hailee’s arm and pulls her away from the main path.

  “What is it?” Hailee asks, catching Anna’s urgency.

  Anna can feel the panic welling up in her chest. Her whole body shakes and she starts to hyperventilate. A cold sweat forms on her brow.

  “Call Kang” she manages to wheeze out. She is unable to take her eyes off the face that has been haunting her nightmares.

  Hailee doesn’t hesitate. She pulls out her phone and dials.

  Anna watches as Jock, clipboard in hand, approaches a group of young women in maroon Harvard rowing shirts. Skater Boy joins him, flashing the same easy grin, the same casual charm.

  Her fists clench. They’ll never get the chance to hurt anyone again.

  ***

  Kang is pleasantly surprised when he arrives on the scene to find Detective Ho and Officer Du leading Jock and Skater Boy away from the crowd. Man Zhu Bai is questioning the college girls and collecting the surveys as evidence. Hailee and a tour guide are helping with translations and keeping the girls calm. It looks like Anna didn’t do anything rash before he could get there.

  He isn’t sure if she is lucky or a magnate for trouble, but either way, she saved them weeks of leg work. He scans the sidelines until he finds her telltale ponytail. He frowns when he sees she is rocking back and forth on the ground, her arms around her knees. For a second he wishes he was peeling her off a perp instead of seeing her so vulnerable again.

  ***

  Anna tries to hold herself still, but her body betrays her. Despite all the reassurances she repeats in her mind—You’re safe. You’re fine. They can’t hurt you.—her body doesn’t listen. The tremors pulse through her. Her breaths come in shallow, sharp bursts. She focuses on the rise and fall of her chest, forcing herself to breathe deeply, counting slowly, hoping the panic will pass.

  One... two... three... three... two... one.

  A shadow falls over her, cutting through the spiral of her thoughts. She looks up, expecting Hailee, but instead, it’s Kang. He crouches in front of her, takes her hands, and turns her palms upward.

  Without saying anything he lays something cool across her hands—a bamboo folding fan. He gets back up without saying anything and joins Man Zhu Bai and the other officers. What was that about, Anna wonders as she slowly opens the fan.

  Hand-painted on the fabric is a Phoenix stretching its vibrant wings. A flame reaches from the bird toward the gaping jaws of a Dragon flying through the clouds. It is unclear where one creature’s fire starts and the other’s ends.

  The weight feels good in her hand and it makes a satisfying snap when she flicks it open and closed. An elegant substitution for a stress ball. She lets herself be distracted and slowly the tremors subside. By the time Hailee returns, Anna is standing against a wall, waiting patiently.

  "Feeling better?" Hailee asks.

  Anna gives a soft snort and a cocky smile. "I’m fine. I just wish I’d decked those jerks when I had the chance."

  ***

  Kang and Man Zhu Bai study the two young men in separate interrogation rooms through the double-sided mirrors in the observation room. Jock, AKA Charlie Dupont, sprawls out in his chair like he doesn't have a care in the world. While in the next room, Skater Boy, identified as Bryce Jones, paces, a sheen of sweat already forming on his brow.

  "I’ll take Dupont." Kang and Man Zhu Bai speak in unison.

  Kang pulls a coin from his pocket. "Call it."

  "Mao," Man Zhu Bai says, referring to the portrait of Mao Zedong on the yuan coin.

  Kang flips it, catching it mid-air and revealing the image of the Great Wall on the back.

  “Dammit,” Man Zhu Bai scowls.

  ***

  Kang enters the room, his posture rigid, an aura of authority hanging over him. The fluorescent light above hums softly, casting harsh shadows over the table. Charlie straightens instinctively, muscle memory kicking in before he realizes what he’s done. His shoulders drop as he forces himself to relax, resuming his cocky attitude.

  Kang waits. He doesn’t sit. He doesn’t speak. He just looks at Charlie with the kind of quiet patience that turns seconds into hours. He waits until Charlie starts squirming in his seat to break the silence.

  “A natural-born Chinese citizen. You’re parents are missionaries” he states matter-of-factly.

  Charlie crosses his arms over his chest and leans back in his chair. “Yeah, I’m a good Christian boy.” His voice drips with sarcasm.

  “They must be proud,” Kang replies dryly taking a seat at the table.

  “I’m not saying shit.” Charlie declares through his clenched jaw, letting Kang know he scored a hit on a sore spot.

  Kang flips through the file in front of him deliberately ignoring Charlie’s presence. The only sound in the room is the turning of pages. After only a minute the silence becomes oppressive.

  Charlie purposely scrapes his chair across the floor, but Kang doesn’t look up. He taps his finger on the table in another ineffective bid for attention. Kang knows his type, a child who misbehaves because he wants mommy and daddy’s attention.

  Frustrated that he isn’t getting it, it doesn’t take long for Charlie to break.

  “Did you hear me?” he thumps his fist on the table. “I said I’m not talking.”

  Kang still doesn’t react. He continues to leisurely turn the pages in front of him, letting the kid's fuse burn even shorter.

  ***

  In the next room, Man Zhu Bai takes a softer approach. Bryce is already sweating and running a finger between his neck and his chain with a cross dangling from it.

  Man Zhu Bai leans forward slightly, his voice sympathetic. “So, you and Charlie have been friends for a long time, huh?”

  Not expecting such an innocuous question, Bryce hesitates, he turns the question over in his mind searching for anything way it could incriminate him before hesitantly answering. “Sure.”

  “Roommates in college too?”

  “Yes.” He answers more quickly, this time.

  Man Zhu Bai watches as Bryce lowers his hands and his shoulders relax, lowering his guard. He picks up the pace, “Live together?”

  “Yup”

  “Work together…?”

  “Yes.”

  “Kidnap young women together?”

  “Ye-” Bryce's face pales, “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

  Man Zhu Bai plants his hands on the table and leans in just enough that Bryce has nowhere to look but into his eyes. “You’re not a good liar.”

  Bryce’s Adam's apple bobs and looks around the room. Man Zhu Bai waits for the kid to look him in the eye. In a low voice, he asks, “How do you think a pretty, blonde boy like you will do in prison?”

  Bryce’s fingers inch back toward his necklace.

  ***

  Unable to handle the feeling of insignificance any longer Charlie cracks, “Don’t you want to know how I did it?”

  Kang finally looks up with disinterest, “Your friend’s going to tell us everything. We don’t need you,” he says flipping the file closed.

  Charlie’s sneer falters. He is the mastermind, it was his plan, and he should get the credit. The police were supposed to be begging to know how he did it, “This is bullshit!”

  ***

  Man Zhu Bai leans in, voice smooth. “It wasn’t your idea, was it?”

  Bryce’s voice hiccups. “No.”

  Man Zhu Bai feeds him the narrative, just enough to let him think there is a chance for escape. “Charlie’s dragged you into all this trouble. Why should you be the one to pay for it?”

  Bryce’s eyes glisten, his fingers close around his cross, rubbing it as if it Jesus would appear like a genie to save him.

  Man Zhu Bai’s voice softens, almost coaxing. “Do you really think your god will protect you after what you’ve done? You’ll get the same treatment those girls you kidnapped got.”

  Bryce flinches and grips the cross so it bites into his palm. His voice is barely above a whisper. “But I didn’t touch them. I swear.”

  ***

  Kang checks his watch, pushing back his chair. “They're probably done by now.”

  “Wait”, Charlie stands up. “I’m not gonna let that pansy get the benefits. I want a deal.”

  Kang sits back down, movements slow, measured. “That depends on what you’ve got to say.”

  Charlie licks his lips, eager to prove he is the valuable one. “What do you want to know?”

  ***

  Man Zhu Bai watches Bryce closely, his next words gentle, but laced with iron. “I can only help you if you confess”

  Bryce sucks in his breath. Then as if unable to hold back any longer blurts out “I only drugged them, so they wouldn’t get hurt.”

  “You were trying to make it easy on them,” Man Zhu Bai agrees in sympathy even though all the twisted excuses turn his stomach.

  “We were only responsible for pick-up and delivery.”

  “What locations?”

  “There was only one—a cargo container at the port.”

  Man Zhu Bai’s eyes narrow in frustration. “Warehouses? Clubs? A restaurant? Where did you meet with others in the organization?”

  ***

  Charlie scoffs. “No one meets up anymore. Everything’s by phone or email.”

  Kang watches him carefully. “What about the victims’ belongings?”

  Charlie shrugs. “Phones, IDs, bank cards—those get mailed to a P.O. box. We can throw away or sell anything else.”

  Kang leans forward slightly. “Did you send the phones and IDs after the last delivery?”

  Charlie smiles knowing Kang will be pleased with his answer.

  “Didn’t get a chance. The package is still waiting to be delivered”