Forbidden City

All three of the men looked scruffy. Patched jeans, hoodies, dirty boots and coats clothed them and lent them the sameness of a predatory pack. They were young, barely into their twenties.

But old enough to point a gun at you, Annja thought as she remained frozen. Looking into their eyes, she noticed how red and glassy they were. It wasn’t a huge leap of logic to guess that they were under the influence of something. In the thin cold air, she smelled the acrid odor of marijuana and the cloying stink of horse sweat.

Beside her, Huangfu shifted slightly, just enough to get his footing and redistribute his weight. The three young men didn’t notice.

“I told you I saw somebody out here, Dylan.” The speaker was the thickest of the three. He carried the extra weight around his middle, looking like a football player gone to seed.

Dylan was bearded and had kinky black hair that looked like he hadn’t brushed it since he was a teenager. He aimed the rifle in his arms with grim authority, pointing it at Huangfu.

“Shut up, Beef,” Dylan said. “I can see them. I got eyes.”

“Do you think they’ve been out to the patch?” the third young man asked.

“Shut up, Neville,” Dylan ordered, then spat foul curses. “I swear, neither one of you has any sense.”

Annja looked at the semiautomatic Beef carried and the revolver Neville held. She’d been in similar situations of late. She was afraid she was starting to get used to life-threatening situations.

“What’re you doing out here?” Dylan demanded.

“We’re archaeologists.” Annja gestured to the bones gathered at the side of the hole. “We were sent here to find these bodies.”

Beef walked away from the other two, closing in on the bones. He kicked the skull with the toe of his boot and sent it rolling a few feet away.

“Cool.” Beef grinned and went after the skull. “Think I’ll put this in my room. Get some black light action going on this. Candles for the eyes. It’ll look awesome.”

“Why are you out here looking for skeletons?” Dylan asked.

Beef picked up the skull, hooking his fingers through the eye sockets and his thumb through the mouth. He mimed swinging it like a bowling ball, then laughed uproariously.

Annja kept her voice calm and soft. “These people were Chinese. Their families found out they were murdered here and want them back.” She felt another slight shift in Huangfu’s stance, aware of it only because she’d been involved in martial arts for years.

“That’s all you’re doing out here?” Dylan asked.

“Yes.”

“You aren’t, like, police?” Neville looked suspicious.

“No.”

“That was a dumb question.” Beef snorted derisively.

Neville looked irritated. “Why? All I asked was if they were police.”

“Well, for one, they could lie to you.”

“Uh-uh. Police have got to tell the truth.”

Beef cursed and juggled the skull in one hand. “Dude, I don’t know what planet you’re from, but my brother is a cop, and they can lie to everybody. Ain’t no law against lying for police.”

Neville shook his head. “That don’t seem right. I mean, a police guy has gotta tell you he’s a police guy.”

“And two,” Beef went on, “now they know we got a reason to worry about police up here.” He looked at Dylan. “We gotta kill ’em now, dude. They’ve seen our faces. Anybody finds out we’re growing pot up here, we’re gonna go to prison this time.”

Dylan didn’t say anything for a minute. Then he shrugged. “They already dug the hole, I guess. Kill the guy first.” The rifle shifted to center over Huangfu’s chest.

Unable to stand by while the man was killed, Annja surged up from the hole. Controlling the fear that vibrated within her, she stayed low, diving toward Dylan because she believed the other two would fire their weapons after he did. Catching Dylan around the waist in a flying tackle, she spilled to the ground with the young man in a tangle of arms and legs as the rifle went off.

Three other reports cracked almost simultaneously, all of them different timbers.

Rolling, Annja came up in a crouch, taking in the scene before her in disbelief. Beef collapsed only a few feet away, his face covered in blood. Huangfu, low to the ground and in motion, held a small black pistol in his fist. The weapon cracked, spitting fire twice more.

Neville staggered back, gazing down at his chest in astonishment. Two tiny flowers blossomed bloodred over his heart. “Very uncool, dude.” Then he dropped, sprawling across the ground.

Stunned, Annja didn’t notice Dylan’s kick until his foot was only inches from her face. By then it was too late to avoid the blow. She twisted her head in an effort to deflect the impact and succeeded, but the side of her face suddenly felt like it was on fire and her vision turned blurry for a moment.

Dylan was cursing and scrabbling for a pistol in the waistband of his pants when Huangfu took aim and fired again. Two bullets caught Dylan in the chest, staggering him but not knocking him down. He brought his pistol up in both hands and fired.

The bullet sheared a tree branch only inches from Huangfu’s head. The loud detonation filled the ridge for a moment, but it relented when Huangfu fired three times in a rapid string of explosions.

Huangfu pointed the pistol at Annja as Dylan’s knees buckled and he fell face first onto the ground.

Time slowed for Annja as she tried to assess what had happened. Huangfu had acted only to save them. Having the gun he’d obviously carried on his person might offer some legal challenges, but it wasn’t anything that a good lawyer couldn’t work out. If the young men had been worried about further criminal charges putting them in prison, that meant they had a criminal history of some sort. And there was no denying the weapons they’d brought. But Annja knew she was in grave danger.

She moved, trusting her instincts and not trying to reason through the improbable situation. Huangfu had killed the three young men and he was going to kill her, as well. She dodged behind the nearest tree. A bullet tore bark from the trunk and spewed splinters across her cheek.

She didn’t break stride, plunging deeper into the forest surrounding Volcanoville. The sun was setting to the west, steeping the forest in darkness. She headed in that direction, knowing the long shadows and the loss of depth perception against the fading brightness would make her a harder target.

More shots rang out behind her. Bullets cut through the trees, ricocheting from thick limbs and trunks, and cutting small branches free.

Taking brief respite in a hollow between two large fir trees dug in tight against the hillside, Annja realized she was still holding the items from the dig site. She shoved the belt plaque into the leather pouch, then tied the pouch to her belt. Metal clicked inside and she guessed that some of the contents were coins. The cold ate into her, but she knew the adrenaline and fear coiling through her increased her vulnerability to it.

The forest continued to darken and the shadows deepened.

Annja listened for footsteps but didn’t hear any. Either Huangfu wasn’t moving, or—

The man suddenly appeared out of the darkness with the pistol in his hand.

Annja made herself stay put and trust the shadows. Any movement would make her visible.

Huangfu stopped beside a tree. His breath puffed out in front of him. He lifted his left hand and Annja saw that he was holding a satellite phone. He pressed a number.

I’ll bet that’s not 911. A sinking sensation coiled through Annja’s stomach. She was a long way from help.

After finishing a short conversation in which he did all the talking, Huangfu put the phone away. “Miss Creed.” His call echoed in the forest.

Annja let her breath out, knowing she had to keep breathing in order to keep from hyperventilating. Her fight or flight instinct surged madly, but she kept it in check.

“Miss Creed, you should come out.” Huangfu started walking again. “There’s been a mistake. I’m not going to hurt you.”