Chapter 84
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LEE HEARD Jack shout and prepared as best she could. She knew she could not escape the death trap that was the tent. She grabbed the nearest rucksack and pulled it on top of her as she formed a shield in the ether. She had practiced and practiced, but this was the most difficult feat of magic to achieve. She made the air curve, distorted gravity, talked to quantum genies: . She did not know enough about it to understand what it was. She simply manipulated the physical world as much as she could, willing bullets to go places that were not where she was.
The bullets tore the space around her. Two slammed into the pack and one hit the knife on the tent floor and buried itself in the fleshy part of the back of her thigh.
D’iu ne lo mo! She shouted in pain. If those eunuchs shot Jack, she would have all their generations killed, their fields sown with salt and their very names removed from all records. Those motherfuckers!
“Attention, you in the tent! Are you hurt?” a voice shouted.
“Yes, I am hurt. You have shot me! Get your minions in here to take care of me! Now!”
“I will not have my men shot!”
“Show some balls and come in here yourself. If I had a gun you would already be dead.”
Hong Lee heard muttered voices, Japanese pigs and a South African, from the sound of their voices, two of her least favorite peoples. No wonder they caused such havoc. Robots and arrogance!
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“I am bleeding in here, God damn it! Quit squabbling like toothless old women and make a decision! Or, should I crawl out?”
She heard the South African tell his men in Japanese, “I am going in.” Then, “I am coming in!” he shouted in English.
Lee raised her hands as the zipper slid down, the sound harsh in the sudden stillness of missing wind. The lean, scarred face of the man appeared behind the steady hand holding the pistol.
“I am going to put my hands down now to keep pressure on the wound in my leg.”
“I am going to drag you out on your pad so that we may search you and tend your wounds.”
Once she was in the open she was thoroughly searched while expert pressure was applied to her wound. The guards chattered to themselves in Japanese.
“Do you think we killed him?” One asked.
Another started to answer, “I hope not, if we…”
“Silence,” the gaunt man shouted in a parade ground voice.
“Where is Jack?” She asked it with all the command she could muster with a fear so vast inside her she refused to look at it.
“Do not worry. You will see him soon enough.”
Her heart sank, then soared. They thought they could have killed him, but they were not sure. The only way they were not sure was that he was not there. She kept her face empty of everything by focusing on her pain.
While they continued to minister to her injuries and make her ready for a journey, she watched as the gaunt man held a quick conference with two men on snow machines. Her fluency in Japanese was enough for business, better for listening than talking, and did not extend to lip-reading. The two men raced off on their machines.
“Now we must wait,” said the gaunt man.
Hong Lee, journeyman telekinesian, brilliant capitalist, and woman deeply in love, hoped her man was alive. She would soon find out. She visualized her worry darting about like bees after someone disturbed their hive. She made a picture of them calming, resting, sleeping, and then put this picture in a picture of a large Gucci bag that sat in her closet. Then she closed the door of the picture and plotted her vengeance. And, it was terrible.