Chapter Six (full length)

President Yuan Shi-kai

I was horrified, I was mad, and I was in grief - although not necessarily in that order.

When I returned to Shanghai, the first thing I did was to see Lau Beng at his nursery. Upon reaching his place, I felt uneasy because Keng did not appear to greet me like he usually did, and my sifu was nowhere to be seen. Quickly I went searching for them. About half a mile from the cottage, in a little grassy glade beside a river, I found them lying motionless on the ground, not far from each other. They had been shot to death, and their badly decomposed bodies revealed that it was more than a week ago. Lau Beng was still holding his hand pruners. I searched far and wide about the field looking for clues that would shed some light on the identity of the killers - I knew there was more than one person because there were many footprints on the ground - but there were none. Disappointed, I tottered back to the spot where the graybeard and his faithful dog had fallen. That was when I saw it: severed fingers in the jaws of Keng. He must have bitten them off the attacker's hand during the struggle.

"This is a heartening find," I said to myself as I removed the worm-infested fingers - there were four of them - from the canine's mouth. "It will make my task easier to identify the culprit."

Using a pick and shovel, I dug two graves marked by tombstones under a big tree for my sifu and Keng. Dusk arrived when I finally laid them to rest. Before the tombstone of Lau Beng, instead of joss sticks, I burnt three cigarettes - his favorite brand - as a token of respect and knelt down in silence. Mist had enveloped about me and the trees below. The waxing moon was riding in the west. Then I spoke: "In this world, there are many things that catch my eyes, but only a few catch my heart. Sifu, you caught my heart, and you shall forever be missed. You were not only my teacher and mentor, you were like my father. You'd never know that your kindness, big or small, expressed in your own distinctive manner, have such a tremendous imprint on my life. It touches my soul in a very special way. That's the sort of impact you had imbued in my senses when you said, 'Kid, you can do anything you set your mind to, because you have what it takes, but pickpocketing is not one of them. Come, let me groom you for higher things' after you caught me trying to steal your wallet. You saved me. And you'd made me a better man today."

I paused. Eventually I broke down and cried - yes, even grown men shed tears in times of great sorrow. In between sobs, I raised my clenched fist and muttered, "Your deaths shall be avenged, Sifu, and Keng ... I swear upon your graves that I'll kill those bastards who did this to you."

Surprisingly, Lau Beng's house was neat and tidy; by that I assumed he was killed while he was tending to his flowers in the field. I switched on all the lights, making his abode as bright as a flame. I did that because I wanted to attract the killers' attention. I was cocksure that they would be back to finish their jobs; they had only eliminated the business agent, and the liquidator - that's me - was still at large. Well, my job was just beginning.

I nipped over to his bedroom. There were only a few pieces of furniture: a king-sized bed and two chairs. There was also a big wardrobe; I opened its door - behind the rail of clothes was a secret compartment known only to Lau Beng and me. This was the graybeard's ammunition chest: guns, dynamites, the whole works. However, there was a metal box which I had never seen before. Curious, I unlatched it; my eyes sparkled like diamonds when I saw at least fifty thousand dollars inside - all in hundred-dollar bills - and a black notebook. The old goat not only left me memories, he left me money too! Then flipping through the pages of the book, I realized that he had kept a journal of all my hits: the dates, the names of our clients, the targets, and the amount paid. His last entry - the Song Jiao-ren contract - had me gasping in astonishment; our client was the murdered reporter Chen Yi-seng! Good gracious me, the mystery of this case was getting deeper by the day!

At four o'clock on the third morning, the enemy finally came. Hiding behind the huge trunk of an old tree not far from the house, I gazed out of the shadows: there were five of them, all tall and stern-faced. Donning stripped suits and white fedora hats, they looked like typical gangsters. Four were brandishing guns while the fifth was unarmed with a heavily-bandaged right hand; I reckoned that he must be the one who had his fingers chomped off by Keng. Cautiously, they made their way to the house. I rubbed my hands with glee; it was show-time.

As soon as the foremost gunman kicked open the front door, the house exploded in a big ball of fire - yours truly had rigged the whole place with dynamites. He was killed instantly along with the other three gunmen. The six-fingered bozo escaped death because he stood the furthest away. But the impact of the explosion flung him back a few yards, landing on the ground hard on his buttocks, a short distance from where I was. He got up and staggered to his feet, swaying back and forth like a pendulum. I saw his bleeding left arm hanging limp; he was hurt. Still, he must be thinking his luck was holding up because he survived the blast - yeah, his ass luck actually; he had not met me yet.

He was scared out of his wits when I finally showed my face to him. He should be; I was generating a menacing aura ... I was also pointing my gun at his head.

"M ... Mr. Clean, you must be Mr. Clean!" he spluttered as the color drained from his craggy face. Of course he was just guessing because no enemy before had seen my face and lived.

"At your service, bozo," I replied, heightening his fears.

He tried to make a run for it, but I shot him on the right leg before he had a chance. He fell, writhing in agony on the ground.   

"Tell me a story and I'll let you live," I said, coolly blowing away the smoke from the barrel of my gun.

"My lips are sealed, you bastard!"

"Tsk! Tsk! Watch your profanity, you son-of-a-bitch," I shot him again, this time on his left leg. He screamed like a stuck pig. "Well?" I asked.

"Go to hell!" he replied, trying to talk tough.

"You first," I said, my third shot hitting his left shoulder; my goodness, I seemed to be taking a sadistic pleasure in hurting him!

"Stop shooting! Stop shooting!" he finally pleaded, his tears of pain flowing down his cheeks. "I'll tell you what you want to know!"

Naturally I was not happy to hear that from him; I was hoping he could last a few more shots prior to throwing in the towel.

"First, tell me why did you have to shoot a defenseless one-armed man in the back?" I asked as my heart blazed in fury.

"Despite his handicap, Lau Beng was still a sharpshooter. Thus we had to take him down by surprise. I'm sorry, there was no other way."

"What about Chen Yi-seng? How was he connected in all this?"

"Chen Yi-seng was under the payroll of my boss. He was assigned to deal with Lau Beng and also to fabricate a story about Song Jiao-ren's death after that. But he got greedy; he wanted more money, threatening to expose my boss if his demand was not met. He had to be eliminated too."

"And who is your boss - President Yuan Shi-kai?"

"Not ... exactly," replied the badly-wounded bozo haltingly; the pain was slowly overwhelming him. "Yes, the president wants Song Jiao-ren terminated. And no, it was left to my boss Tan Chin, the mayor of Shanghai and his most trusted lieutenant, to get the job done."

"Tan Chin ... he is the most corrupted mayor in the whole of China!" I said, raising my eyebrows in surprise.

He nodded. "Everyone knows he is corrupted, but no one can prove it except Song. And he swore that once he became the prime minister, he would charge him in court and remove him from office. My boss was having none of that so when the president approached him to silence Song, he was more than willing to do it."

"Let me guess the rest," I chiseled in, my detective brain working overtime. "While President Yuan only greatly desired to have Song out of the way, your boss went one step further. He ordered you goons to wipe out everyone involved in the drawing up of the contract. That way, no evidence or witness would be forthcoming for others to nail him later, not even the president, am I correct?"

He nodded once more. "Yes, that included Shek-yau who was paid a great deal of money to take the heat. My boss hoodwinked him into thinking that he would be released unharmed after spending a couple of weeks in jail. Instead the pea-brain was killed by one of his moles while in custody."

"Bozo, your boss comes right out of a silly crime novel!" I scoffed. Then I advanced closer to his side, cocking my gun as I moved.

"Wait! Wait! What are you doing?" he bellowed, his face turning white. He knew I was about to kill him. "You said you'd let me live if I tell you the whole story."

"I lied," I said emphatically. My next shot spattered his brain in all directions.

Screaming fires had engulfed the entire cottage, the flames burning red and amber, as I dumped the bodies of the five gunmen into the raging inferno. In a short while, the building would be burnt down to nothing. After mounting my steed, I let out a sigh of sadness - it took my sifu many years to build his dream house, but the fire needed just a few minutes to completely destroy his dream.

I looked at the burning house one last time. Then I wheeled Flash to the main road and galloped away, never to return again.