An Unwanted Alias
Chapter 5

Copyright© 2014 by Sage Mullins

Arriving at home, I at once threw off my coat, and frantically began to straighten up the place. I was actually having company over! Thing was, there was less than an hour before their arrival, assuming they were on time. I figured they might be hungry, so I quickly whipped up some fried rice with vegetables. They'd have to settle for either fruit juice or water to drink. I'd practically been subsisting on rice-based dishes lately, which was ironic, given how I'd been driven to distraction from harvesting the damn stuff for the better part of two months.

I had finished cooking, and had also managed to transform my dwelling above and beyond pig-sty status, when I heard a tentative knock on the door. Suddenly feeling inexplicably nervous, I opened the door. There was my favorite former masseuse, carrying a small bag, along with a seemingly elderly woman with a shawl over her head. I waved them in with a smile. I offered to take the bag, suspecting that it contained something to eat, and placed it on the tiny, wobbly kitchen table. Then, I regarded my two guests. I started to direct them to sit down, but the older lady began to speak. As she did so, she removed the shawl, revealing a much younger face than I expected. She looked to be around forty-five.

"You must be Jake," she said in a most pleasant tone. "I've heard a lot about you."

"All good, I hope," I retorted. "You speak English. God bless you."

This drew a laugh from the older woman. "My name is Sandra Finney," she told me. Although she was clearly of Chinese origin, she spoke with a thick British accent. I also wondered how she acquired the Anglo surname, but I knew that would come out eventually. Besides, there were more pressing formalities to deal with.

"As you might expect," I offered, "I have about a million questions. And the first one is ... what is her name?" I gestured toward the "her" in question. "I had no way of asking her before."

Sandra grinned, and spoke a few words in Mandarin to my fellow sweatshop worker and erstwhile hostage, who had come prepared with a pen and a notebook. She wrote something on a page of the notebook, tore it out, and handed it to me. One very big mystery was thus solved, as her name was at last revealed: Li-wen Zhou. Finally, I could retire the nickname "Braid Gal."

I was trying to sound out the name, hoping I didn't royally screw up the pronunciation, when I noticed that the two women were having a slight case of the giggles. Sandra flashed an 'isn't-that-adorable' smile, and then informed me, "Jake, she just told me that she wants you to call her Wendy."

"Okay," I chuckled. "Wendy it is." Wendy proceeded to do something I hadn't yet seen from her – she smiled radiantly. What do you know, I thought. She does know how to smile. I realized that she was just a little reserved by nature.

"Please have a seat," I told them. I pointed toward the "living room," which was actually an open area, about six feet by six feet, containing a ragged sofa and a folding metal chair. I planted myself in the chair, while the women sat on the sofa, facing me.

It was Sandra who began the conversation. "Let me first explain my little disguise here," she said, referring to the shawl. "There are hidden cameras out in the hall, and also down near the entrance to the building. Our presence here is being noted. If you are asked about it, just say that I am Wendy's mother."

Needless to say, I found this disturbing. "We're being watched? And how do we know they don't have bugs and cameras planted here in my place?" This was an ongoing concern of mine.

"That's not their style," Sandra replied with a mysterious grin. "And I'm also sure that they won't object to Wendy paying you a visit. I've heard enough of your story to be quite certain of that. And I'm about the same height as Wendy's mum, who isn't in the best of health, which makes it quite believable that she would be covered up in cold weather."

I had nothing to add to that. Sandra clearly could sense that I was ill at ease, and she moved to soothe my worries. "Let me give you a little of my personal history. I was born perhaps fifty kilometers from here –"

I felt compelled to cut in. "And exactly where is here? Sorry to interrupt, but I'm dying to know the answer to that."

Sandra appeared astonished. "You really don't know? After all this time?"

"I don't. I know I'm in China. I've deduced that I'm somewhere in the interior, and the mild climate tells me we're probably in the southwestern part."

"Your knowledge of geography is impressive, and you're absolutely right. You're in Sichuan province. The nearest large city is Chengdu, about an hour away by automobile."

"One more mystery solved," I said with a smile. "Anyway, Sandra, I didn't mean to cut in like that. Please continue your story."

"Right. My parents were well-to-do, and had the money to send me abroad for higher education. I attended university in the United Kingdom, majoring in international relations, and eventually received a doctorate degree."

"That explains your accent," I noted.

"When I was studying, I met my husband-to-be, Douglas Finney. We settled in the English countryside; I became a university professor. Unfortunately, after eighteen years of marriage, my husband passed away of cancer. We were never able to have any children. This was five years ago. After Douglas' passing, I had no reason to remain in England. I moved back here to China. I am now what you would call a university adjunct professor, and I spend a good deal of time caring for my elderly parents. That's a very short version of who I am, and how I got here."

"I'm sorry to hear about your husband," I replied. "And I can relate to one other item you mentioned. My wife and I have been married twelve years, and haven't been able to create any offspring." Bringing up this point caused my spirits to fall momentarily, but I felt compelled to do it anyway. I quickly changed the subject.

"How do you and Wendy know each other?" I wondered. "Are you related?"

"We are not related. In fact, I just met her about a month ago, through a mutual friend. The woman who gave you that note at work? That's the friend. Anyway, I've grown quite fond of this young lass here, who is rather headstrong, but also has a heart of gold."

"I've seen ample evidence of both of those qualities," I replied, smiling at Wendy. Wendy was no dummy; she figured that we were talking about her, and she asked Sandra for a translation. Wendy then added a few words in Mandarin, directed at me.

"Wendy says that she could tell right away that you are a good man," translated Sandra. "She also feels a little guilty, though, because if you wouldn't have helped her carry the bags, you wouldn't have been abducted."

"I would never blame her for that," I replied right away, looking at Wendy, trying to communicate that point with my eyes. "In fact, I greatly admire the strength she showed throughout that ordeal. It really helped me deal with everything that was going on." Sandra translated, and Wendy favored me with a warm, grateful smile.

"I'd like to know her story," I said to Sandra. Wendy began to talk. Speaking in her language, she looked me directly in the eye, rather than facing her translator. I found this endlessly endearing. She went on, and on, and on. I sensed that she had a need to unload.

"Wow," smiled Sandra at the end of Wendy's little oration. She proceeded to summarize it for me as best she could. Wendy was twenty-four years old. She was also a local product, having been born and raised in the countryside a short distance away. Her childhood was spent in poverty. At the time, childbirth restrictions were in place in China. Since Wendy was a girl, and the family lived in a rural area, her parents were permitted to have a second child. Wendy's brother was two years younger than her. Her father was a farmer, and when Wendy was six, he left the family, never to return. This left Wendy's mother to raise Wendy and her brother alone. At seventeen, Wendy entered a nursing program, and worked part-time as a hospital aide to help pay for her education. At twenty, Wendy became involved with a young man, a few years older than herself, who had a checkered history. It turned out that he was affiliated with the bunch of criminals that was now making our lives miserable. He persuaded her to drop out of school. This boyfriend ran afoul of one of the big bosses in the society, and it wasn't long before he was found dead in an alley. Someone else in the organization approached the distraught Wendy and recruited her to become a masseuse. With her nursing background, she was a natural. A little over two years ago, they'd transported her to Florida, where she bounced from massage parlor to massage parlor, until the day we were kidnapped. Now, they'd forced her into the same sweatshop situation in which I was stuck. Wendy was close to her mother, but had no other close relatives. Her brother refused to have anything to do with her, claiming she'd brought disgrace to the family.

Then, it was my turn to relate my own personal history. Once I'd done that, the discussion turned to Mr. Choi and his band of criminals. At the start, Sandra had another personal tragedy of hers to relate.

"I have something in common with Wendy," she offered. "Someone close to me got involved with these bastards, and paid for it with his life. In my case, it was my younger brother."

I just whistled in response.

"What's ironic about that," continued Sandra, "is that my master's thesis actually dealt with Chinese underground criminal organizations. I have a lot of knowledge of the ins and outs of these societies. Have you heard the term 'triad' used before, Jake?"

"Isn't that what they call the Chinese mafia?"

"Not the entire network itself, but one of the many branches. Each is a triad. Most of the triads no longer operate in mainland China because government crackdowns have made it too risky. They've long since moved their base of operations to Hong Kong and abroad. However, there are small pockets that remain on the mainland, and that's what you're dealing with now.

"This particular triad is relatively new, and quite bold and ambitious. It's my belief that their boldness might eventually be their undoing, but for now, it makes them bloody dangerous. They are based out of Hong Kong, and have extensive operations in the United States. I'm sure you won't be surprised to hear that they run virtually all of the Oriental massage parlors in South Florida."

"Not long before the kidnapping occurred, a co-worker of mine made that exact claim, that the massage parlors were run by organized crime," I commented. "At the time, I kind of half believed him. But I'll be damned if he wasn't right."

Sandra nodded in affirmation, and continued her little lecture. "Here in Sichuan province, they are involved in human trafficking, mostly in the agriculture and manufacturing industries. You know that already. Their victims are almost exclusively adults, unlike many of the other triads. It's possible that the recent increase in media coverage of the child trafficking issue has dissuaded them from pursuing that avenue right now."

She then shifted gears, providing a more detailed response to my earlier concern about hidden cameras in my apartment. "You surely have an inkling that everyone who lives in this building is in the same predicament that you are. This building is owned by the triad, and all who live within are basically under their control. So is the place where Wendy is staying. They've set up cameras at strategic locations around the building, but they won't put them inside dwellings. They had trouble with this issue in the past – one of their former kingpins is serving a prison term for encouraging spying of this type. I heard from a very reliable source that they've sworn off that kind of activity."

A brief silence followed. Then, I gave voice to the most pressing issue. "Do you have any insight regarding that abduction operation that brought us here?" I asked Sandra.

"Some," she allowed. "But there are some things that still don't make sense to me. Let me start with this Mr. Choi character. I believe that he is fairly high up in the organization. However, I also believe that his standing is shaky, and that you and Wendy are somehow connected to his problems. If we can figure out how, it could help you both."

"Something to work on," I said with a wan smile. "But tell me what you do know."

"I believe that the abduction occurred for two reasons. First of all, you know that the manager of the parlor was in a relationship with one of the masseuses."

"Yes, Manny, the manager, was abducted along with the masseuse in question."

"Did you know that the masseuse was also the ex-girlfriend of someone much higher up in the organization?"

"I had no idea. That explains why they'd want to intervene."

"There's more to it. These triads have an elaborate honor code. One major no-no is to seduce the wife or girlfriend of an associate. It seems that Manny did just that. Not only that, he flaunted it, which is why they murdered him as soon as he was out of U.S. territory. He committed a flagrant code violation."

"I'll be damned. You mentioned there were two reasons?"

"The second reason concerns Wendy. They know that she has a mind of her own. The masseuses are forbidden to become 'involved' with clients. Wendy never broke that rule. However, she had a persistent admirer. This poor bloke visited her three or four times a week. The triad bosses moved her to a different parlor, and Wendy's admirer followed her there. They kept moving her, and Mr. Lovestruck kept following her. Add in Wendy's stubborn reputation, and the powers that be decided to initiate an operation to bring the three women back to China, while eliminating Manny. In their minds, the situation was urgent enough to justify that operation."

"That's unreal. And I just happened to stumble along, and got caught up in it."

 
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