Chapter Eleven - (Part 2 of 3)

After parking the car beside the stable, we made our way to the house.

The front door was opened by a thin, young woman in black trousers and white blouse, her black hair tied in a bun.

"Good morning, Master," she greeted us, her voice soft and thin. I did not know whether she was addressing me or Ducky, but I smiled at her anyway. Besides, after referring Lau Beng as my sifu for so long, it was nice to hear someone calling me by that eminent title for a change; it inflated my ego like a balloon.

"This is Ah Lan, the housekeeper," said Ducky, introducing her to my wife and me. "She will do your bidding during your stay here." Then turning his attention to the somewhat timid housekeeper, he spoke with a firm voice: "Ah Lan, this is Mr. and Mrs. Akecheta Lung; they are like family to me. See that they are very well-treated. If I receive any complaints from either one of them about you, I'll tan your hide!"

"Yes, Master, I shall not disappoint you or Master Lung and his missus," said Ah Lan obediently. I could see the tremble in her legs. No wonder she was so thin; the poor woman had to deal with the stresses of working for a demanding employer.

As soon as we entered the house, I felt like in another continent. It had a frantically baroque design with classical Roman statutes, busts, and painted ornaments, and the walls and ceilings were adorned with decorated motifs like medallions, vases, and dancing nymphs.

"Bloody hell, are we still in China?" I exclaimed, gawking at the surroundings.

My better half was abhorred at my lack of good manners. She nudged me and whispered: "Hey, Dumdum, what happened to you? It's not cultured to utter rude words in front of our host, you know."

I blushed and apologized to Ducky. Many a time I am amazed that my tongue can move swifter than my brain.

"Oh, that's all right," replied our family friend between his chuckles. "I guess it's quite grand when you see this house for the first time. For your information, I love everything Roman."

"Hail, Caesar!" I wisecracked to atone for my insolence.

"Hail who?" asked Ducky, looking at me like a dumb turkey.

Obviously he did not love the Romans enough.

After a guided tour of the mansion - it was another once-in-a-lifetime thrill for Suet-foong - I was expecting our host to take his leave. To my consternation, he did not. Instead, he announced that Ah Lan had prepared a sumptuous feast for us - sort of a "Welcome to Beijing" lunch - and we were to join him. Quietly I winced. Let's face it; he was a real gentleman who behaved with the utmost courtesy toward us, but this charade was becoming a bit of a drag.

I glanced at Suet-foong who, despite her smiling visage, looked as bored as I was - her eyes told me so. We sat at the round dining table and when the food came, we gobbled it up like a horse. No, we were not hungry; we just wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible so that we could politely ask our host to get lost. No such luck. When lunch was over, we withdrew to the living hall to have tea - his tea. How could we say no? Subsequently, a teacup found its way to our hands and I took a sip as we sat on the sofa. It had a pungent taste; definitely not my cup of tea, pardon the pun. Even worse was Ducky. He was a goddamn chatterbox. And he only liked to talk about him, him, and more him. Apart from taking heed that he was one of Sze-hoi's most trusted lieutenants while he was in the Green Gang and that he got interested in the tea business because his wife was working in a tea trading company, I was not actually paying attention to what he was saying.

Finally, Ducky switched the topic to me. "Mr. Du didn't mention much on the phone except to say he and you were very close friends since your teens, Ake. What do you do in Shanghai? Are you in business?"

"I kill people for a living," I replied, working up a rascally grin.

I think he choked on his tea.

"No shit?" asked our cultured host.

"No shit," I assured him, taking out my gun - I had religiously followed my sifu's advice to never leave home without it, even when I was on leave - from my shoulder holster and pointing it at his head. The color drained from his face.

"A ... Are you here for your next kill?" he stammered. "Who is your target?"

I began to laugh, quite wickedly if I may add. "Why yes, how astute of you; and my target is ... time, I am here to kill time. My wife and I are on holiday, or have you forgotten?"

He breathed a big sigh of relief when I replaced my firearm. Then with a nervous chortle, he said, "For a moment there, I thought the target was me."

"Be careful what you wish for - it might just come true," I said, my eyes gleaming. It was nothing humorous about my reply; I had a good mind to shoot him if he made me lose my cool which I predicted would be very soon.

To be continued ...