style="font-size:15px;"> “Po? Ho? What’s going on down there? Where’s our meal?” A strong voice carried down the hallway. Guong immediately straightened and shoved Xiang ahead of him.
“I’m rousting this lazybones right now. Get moving, you!” His hand thudded between Xiang’s shoulder blades, staggering the boy and almost sending him to the marble floor. “This isn’t over, little one,” he hissed under his breath as he followed Xiang to the galley entrance.
“Easy, Ho, you don’t want to injure our cook. Let’s go, Po, everyone is hungry and waiting.” Although their leader’s voice was pleasant enough, his face was all hard, lean planes, with a hooked beak of a nose under glittering black eyes. Xiang knew firsthand that his tone was the only soft thing about him. Lee Ming had killed their previous leader a year ago, and since then had mercilessly trained the small band of pirates to take on larger ships and cargo. He was the one who had come up with the decoy idea, which had worked perfectly for several hijackings—at least, until this last time.
Xiang slid past the pirate leader, shoulders tensed in expectation of a blow, but the man let him pass without interference. Once immaculate and gleaming, the kitchen and its appliances were filthy from the rest of the men coming and going at all hours of the day, leaving rotting food scraps and dirty dishes and bowls everywhere in their wake. The fetid smell made him gag, and he opened the small porthole window to get some fresh air in, then turned on the oven fan to try to clear the stench. With a sigh, Xiang realized he’d let things go unattended here for too long. He’d have to clean the whole area from top to bottom, before it could get any worse.
He checked the walk-in refrigerator, which contained supplies for twice the number of people currently on board, and grabbed a dozen and a half eggs, four pounds of peeled shrimp, crisp bean sprouts, fish sauce and everything else he needed for a giant batch of spicy egg foo yung with shrimp, a quick yet filling meal that would satisfy the chorus of growling stomachs outside.
For the next ten minutes, Xiang lost himself in the ritual of cooking, one of the few things he truly enjoyed, having picked it up from the last leader of their group. The soothing cadence of cracking, chopping and whisking was almost able to distract him from the shocked look of wide-eyed pain on the American’s face when the bullet had hit him, the man’s face still haunting his sleep. Soon the savory smell of cooking egg and shrimp filled the galley, overlying the stink of spoiled food. Xiang also heated plenty of water for tea, finding the last of the leaves in a container underneath the small galley table.
When it was finished, Xiang scooped them into two large bowls—the last clean ones he could find, and reheated the last of the scallion pancakes he’d made the previous night, which had somehow escaped the ravenous men’s notice. Piling everything on a large tray, along with bowls, cups and chopsticks, he carefully carried it out to the rear sundeck, where the men had gathered to eat. The tray was so heavy it made his arms shake, but Xiang didn’t complain or stop moving for a moment, knowing that his only option was to make it to the table with his burden intact.
He emerged from the hallway into a bright morning, with a canopy covering the rear area to ward off the already blazing sun. Out here, the smell of the savory breakfast was overpowered by the salt tang of the ocean. Xiang didn’t look around, but kept his eyes on his goal—the table. He was only concerned once, when Guong Ho feinted as if he was going to rise and come after him. His movement was noticed by Lee, who frowned.
“Don’t make the boy drop our breakfast, Ho, otherwise we’ll have to make you cook, and everyone knows what a lousy chef you are!”
The rest of the pirates roared with laughter while Guong hunkered down in his chair, flushed and glowering. Xiang set the platter down, and the men swarmed over the food like starving sharks, scooping out large portions with their bowls and eating with the chopsticks, or just their fingers. After glaring at Xiang with a dark stare that promised revenge for the perceived insult, Guong Ho dug in, as well.
Xiang stood away from the table, waiting for the men to finish. He noticed that almost all of them had raided the closets of the former occupants. Since the clothes were American, they had been modified, with khaki and linen pant legs rolled up, and many sleeves shortened by a knife blade. Only Lee Ming wore clothes that could even be considered appropriate, having modified the captain’s uniform to fit his slender frame. Xiang frowned. The makeshift outfits could fool a passing ship, but anyone coming onboard would see through the poor disguises in an instant. Normally they sold a ship after stripping it of anything valuable in a few days, but since they were staying this time, the danger increased with every day they remained onboard. Xiang knew he couldn’t say anything about it, since Lee would take that as an affront to his leadership. He’d just have to be vigilant about having an escape route open in case they were caught.
The men had just about finished their breakfasts, leaning back and belching in satisfaction, exchanging smiles and jibes about how much each other had eaten. Xiang waited for Lee to finish, knowing the harsh penalty for attempting to clear the table before their leader was done, when one of the men assigned to monitor the radio walked out of the communications room.
“The demon woman has contacted us—she is coming in for a meeting.”
Xiang was secretly pleased at seeing Lee stiffen slightly upon hearing the message. So, there were people even he feared, the boy thought. It was easy to see why, however. A visit from the demon woman was always fraught with peril. The last time, she’d taken Lee aside for a whispered conversation, then he had pointed out Gouhou Cheng and Xiang. She had sternly interrogated Xiang about the events during the hijacking and he’d done his best to assure her that his shooting the man had been an accident. But she had taken Gouhou away with her. That had been two days ago, and they hadn’t heard anything about or from him since.
Lee let his chopsticks clatter on the table. “When?”
“She will be here in ten minutes. She said all of us should be here on the deck when she arrives.”
“That stuck-up bitch.” Lee’s nostrils flared, and Xiang knew his anger had just risen another notch. Their leader hated kowtowing to the woman, but he swallowed his pride and followed her orders so that the pirates could earn the promised reward for all of this work, a prize far beyond stealing ships, even ones such as this. Xiang had no idea what was necessary to obtain it, but Lee, in one of his rare, expansive moods after drinking a half-bottle of wine one evening, had hinted that it would be enough to let them quit the pirate life forever, to enable them to live like normal people for a change. That was why he’d pushed the men so hard to do their assigned jobs well, so that no one would imperil their chance to leave this life behind.
“Xiang! Clear this mess away. The rest of you, go clean yourselves up. We must look presentable when she arrives.”
The boy jumped to obey, stacking the bowls and loading them onto the tray. Picking it up, he carried his pile into the galley, stacking them in the sink and filling it with hot water to soak them. He took a quick look at himself in the mirror, patting his hair down with water, then scurried back on deck, making sure to stay as close to Lee Ming and as far from Guong Ho as possible.
The rumbling throb of a powerboat could now be heard reverberating over the calm ocean, and Xiang looked off the port side to see a slim, forty-five-foot-long cigarette boat approaching, cutting through the water like a sleek, silver-gray dolphin. It turned sharply toward the yacht, powering down as it closed in. Lee Ming nodded for two men to meet the powerboat. A few minutes later, the demon woman stepped aboard.
Xiang, along with the rest of the men, shifted uneasily in her presence. She was impeccably dressed in a western-style suit, with a cream silk blouse under matching dark pinstriped blazer and pants. Despite the heat, she didn’t sweat, and her hair was restrained in
