Chapter 8

Ling's Evening

Ling had been busy; if anyone had looked they might have found some things missing from a bag of old clothes that was sitting on top of the wardrobe in the spare room: Ling's room. At some point they would go to a charity shop or to a school-fête, but for now they were in dark plastic sacks on top of the wardrobe.

Ling was making preparations. Ni'ng Wu take their role very seriously. It was Ling's duty to protect Rory at all costs and by extension Prissy and Jane. Sometimes such a responsibility took precedence over following orders and certainly made it necessary on occasions to operate independently and without instruction. Ling had no issue with the cloak and dagger element that so worried Rory: this she understood very well.

Useful as it would be to talk with her sisters, any contact at the moment would be too risky; she would have to wait and anyway it would be better if she had more information on what was happening here, before making any such contact.

She had to assume that the individuals responsible for the attack on the King were either taken care of or in the process of being taken care of: certainly the state-side ones at least. The top tier of that conspiracy was playing a clever game—so far they had eluded identification, but if they kept attacking it was only a matter of time.

All this of course begged some questions. Were the happenings here being run from the states? Was it, indeed, anything at all to do with what had happened in the states? These questions needed answering and the people involved, all the people involved, had to be taught that direct attacks on a Ni'ng Wu were a bit like meeting a Bengal tiger for lunch: exotic, but very unwise.

Ling quickly made her preparations; tonight was going to require careful timing and a reliance on Prissy's need for teenage rebellion, though having overheard some phone calls she was very happy that things would go her way.

She had located and identified the 'bugs' in the house. The one set was very professionally installed and hidden, the other was a little more amateurish and reliant on a scatter-gun approach, with bugs thrown behind furniture and almost dropped in inaccessible corners. The approach was clever really, since without time and expensive scanning equipment, it would be difficult to be sure of finding them all. That is of course, unless one has some rather exotic abilities and could hear well into the supersonic, was able to detect electric fields and perceive wavelengths both above and below the normal visible spectrum. Ling selectively removed all but one of the first set of bugs; for the time being she intended to play 'nice' with Mr. Smith. As for the second set, Ling carefully destroyed almost all of them; she knew their owners would be disappointed if she did not find them. Now she was hoping they would be congratulating themselves that she had, as they intended, missed some. It wasn't necessary that they believed that she believed all was clear. What was required was that these other watchers felt in control and for that, some of the bugs had to remain—for tonight at least. Over the next day or so she would systematically 'find' the rest.

That Ling was going out with Prissy this evening was luck, beyond her fondest wishes. Nothing was likely to happen whilst she, Ling, was with Rory and certainly not if she were in the house. A harmless and seemingly random event that separated her from Rory and allowed her to leave the house, so soon was almost too good to believe. She quickly assembled her 'kit' placing it in a carrier bag, which she carefully hid in plain view in the porch. She knew that she could grab it and take it to the Taxi, before anyone had a chance to tell her she was taking too much with her.

"Ling!"

It was Prissy's voice. Ling, happy that what was needed was done, went through to Prissy's room. Make-up, boys, friends, photos, gossip and stories—there was much to discuss and giggle over and whilst in one sense this was all new to Ling, in another it was not; she was used to court intrigue and gossip and the reality of female camaraderie was not exactly alien to a Ni'ng Wu.

Ling liked Prissy and this teenage girlish togetherness was both fun and in some way emotionally satisfying. At some level she wasn't sure whether she was playing a part or combining business with pleasure; either way she was sure where her priorities lay, but was honest enough to acknowledge that it pleased her that her activities this evening should not break this bond that was forming between herself and Prissy; indeed Prissy should never realise that anything untoward had happened.

A quick supper, just Ling and Prissy, though Jane and Rory were in and out of the kitchen whilst they were eating. After this Ling and Prissy repaired to their respective boudoirs to begin the mammoth task of getting ready. Finally they were both in Prissy's room making changes and discussing make-up when they heard the doorbell.

"Ignore it! You don't want Rory to see you like this do you? Mum or Rory can answer it and then Lisa and Heather can come up to us," Prissy gently commanded.

Ling was soon being introduced to Lisa and Heather; there was a little awkwardness, initially; Lisa seemed a little less than pleased at the meeting, but as they chatted and got to know each other things improved. This was as Prissy had expected—she knew that Lisa's attraction to her brother was more to do with the challenge than a crush and the challenge was still there: in fact more so. Lisa was interested in conquests, not relationships and Prissy knew that her brother was not the man that would change that for Lisa.

Ling and the girls spent an intense time applying and repairing make-up; adjusting their look and making sure that everything was just so. There was a good deal of discussion regarding who would be at Frocks this evening and Ling was apprised of all the likely candidates that would be encountered.

Time marched on and soon it was the time when the Taxi was expected. The girls all went downstairs to say their goodbyes and to test their 'look' on Rory: an action with which Ling was in definite agreement. Ling was very pleased with Rory's reaction; he had been very interested in examining her with his eyes: she had most assuredly pleased him.

The Taxi was there. The girls left Rory and exited to the hall.

"Okay ladies I am not going to go through the complete litany of don't's—you wouldn't be listening and anyway you have heard it all before, but do listen to this: call me if, for some reason you need to leave early and do not under any circumstances move from the front of 'Frocks' until I pick you up," Jane Jones instructed.

Following the muffled assents, Jane continued, "Okay have fun and I will see you at half eleven. Bye!"

They were leaving. Ling grabbed her carrier bag on the way to the taxi and as expected no one commented or seemed to notice before the taxi had pulled away and was out of sight of the house.

"Stop, please," Ling asked the Taxi driver.

"What's the problem?" The driver asked as he pulled over.

"No problem," Ling answered, adding to Prissy, "I'm getting out here. I'll meet you at Frocks in about an hour."

Prissy was looking very surprised but before she could say anything Ling whispered in her ear, "I really think I ought to explore the neighbourhood; It's a pity I won't be able to do anything if you were by some strange chance to visit a pub, but I suppose we will have to live with that."

Prissy took the hint, she had been a bit worried about Ling and the pub, though she was not quite sure how Ling had known about it, since she, Heather and Lisa had only talked about it on the phone. The plan had been to spring it on Ling once they got to the town centre and before they went into Frocks. Heather had a false ID and the landlord of the 'Dog and Rabbit' was fairly easy game early in the evening, so long as any drinks purchased were drunk at the tables out front and of course if they could persuade Ling to buy the drinks, they would not even be breaking the law.

"Okay, see you later," Prissy enunciated, slightly falsely as she attempted to forestall more questions and any chance of questionable behaviour that might worry the Taxi driver.

Ling was out and walking away before anyone else could say anything. The exit was successful and the taxi was pulling away. Seconds later Ling heard her mobile phone buzz for an incoming message.

Ling checked her mobile and quickly translating the hieroglyphs, laughed inwardly at the message: 'Kool ;) cu l8er. P'. Well now she knew that Prissy was okay with her exit.

Now time was of the essence. Experience, mainly second hand, and training told her that the second group of watchers would make contact very soon. She needed to watch the watchers and if possible intervene.

Currently Ling was a little over half a mile from the house. There was a foot path to her left leading to a playing field which was surrounded by light undergrowth. She moved towards her left and rapidly headed into the undergrowth, where she intended donning her prepared disguise.

Quickly she removed her make-up from her face with a wipe. Then she began to stimulate the melanocytes in her face and hands, all save for an irregular patch on her left cheek which she bleached. Now her hands and face save for parts of her left cheek were dark. Ling then began to alter her appearance by selectively tightening or slackening many of her facial muscles. Her left eyes was partially closed and its shape unpleasantly deformed and the left side of her mouth was slack. Her 'good' right eye now appeared smaller and slightly screwed up: the effect hiding any sign of her normal partial epicanthic fold.

Next she withdrew from her bag her transformed gleanings from the charity sacks in her room. An old dark pair of Prissy's pyjama bottoms and a large charcoal grey piece of cloth that had once been destined for a school needlework project of Prissy's, but unused had found its way to the charity sack.

Taking her shoes off she pulled the trousers over her current garb and fashioned the piece of cloth into a very functional, and authentic looking chador, effectively covering all but her face and hands and finally putting on the alternative pair of shoes that she had brought, also courtesy of the charity sacks.

The effect was magical: not even Rory would have recognised her as Ling. She now appeared as a Muslim girl in her late teens or early twenties with an unpleasantly disfigured face. Ling knew that sometimes the best way to make someone unmemorable was to make something about them very memorable: that way anyone remembering her would remember the facial disfigurement and little else about her.

Still clutching her carrier bag, she now walked back to the road and began to walk back towards Rory's home, being careful to match her gait and demeanour to her new appearance.

Interlude—The Bad Guy Near Rory's House

The bad guy was parked up on Rory's street about three hundred metres from Rory's house and three hundred metres closer to Ling's current location in the undergrowth, where she had at that moment just finished adjusting her appearance. The bad guy was dressed casually and looked very nondescript; in fact the only slightly unusual thing about his appearance were the latex gloves that he was wearing. He was speaking on his mobile.

"Yes I say again, we got lucky. The Ni'ng Wu has left the location with the young female, the sister of 'The Owner'."

He then paused listening to the reply, before continuing, "Yes, I'm going to the deliver the charity envelopes to his and other houses in the street now. If anyone checks they are legitimate envelopes and unlikely to spark any suspicion. I'll talk again later, when it's done and I've ditched the car."

The bad guy exited his car with a sack across one shoulder that contained the charity envelopes. In his now obvious role as a delivery man, the gloves were no longer so odd, just a little eccentric.

Back to the Story

Ling began to walk back towards Rory's house, going as fast as she could consistent with her disguise. There was a bus-stop some seventy metres from Rory's home, with a good view of Rory's front door; Ling intended waiting there, unless of course, she spotted anything of interest before that.

She came around a corner and could see the houses opposite Rory's, though the curve of the road still obscured her view of Rory's house. The bus-stop was now quite close, so she gently slowed her pace as she scanned the expanse of road that was currently visible to her. She spotted the man delivering the charity envelopes, not that she could identify what was being delivered. She did, however spot his latex gloves and recognised this as a possible anomaly. She watched this man closely and though there was no one thing that marked him out, there were enough clues to the experienced observer, that there was something a little off about him. Ling, of course, was more than just an experienced observer and she was sure that she had her man.

Ling had realised that some form of direct action would be required if this other group were to initiate contact. They clearly wanted to control any confrontation and under no circumstances wanted to be traceable, or overly obvious to the established security services. Ling reasoned that these shadowy figures were clearly smart enough to recognise that, so long as they stayed low-key and only targeted Ling and Rory, then the official reaction would almost certainly be to watch and wait. These requirements tended to dictate that contact needed to be made sooner rather than later and as much as possible using a method that would escape notice. This almost implied a personal delivery of some kind, hence her presence.

Ling had now reached the bus-stop and was able to wait and watch without drawing untoward attention to herself, she just hoped that a bus wouldn't come, though given the time, that was not too likely.

Her target was proving quite thorough and still appeared to be making deliveries, despite having already visited Rory's house. By now he was some eighty metres further down the road than Rory's house and appeared to have finally emptied his sack. Ling was watching carefully. She was half expecting him to walk away now and was preparing to follow—but, no, he was walking back towards her. She mentally upgraded her opinion of him. A less experienced operator might well have started further away and then delivered back towards their point of exit, so as to allow for a quick getaway. This man obviously reasoned that an actual delivery man would know that it was better to start delivering immediately: that way the long walk was with an empty bag.

The man was now close enough to her that his almost brazen staring was actually rude, though he did not look as he cared. Ling acted discomforted and submissively stared at the ground. Just then her mobile sounded that she had received a message. She reached for it and checked it—apparently if she topped up now with twenty pounds she would be given three hundred free texts. This was fortuitous, not the free texts, but that her receiving the message gave her the opportunity to act displeased and to start walking away from the bus-stop in the same direction the man was walking.

The man fairly quickly outpaced her, and having discounted her, did not seem concerned that she was effectively following him. Ling hoped that he was not going any distance on foot, since she realised that she could not afford to let this man get too far ahead of her and that should it be necessary, the act of her catching him up would almost certainly give him cause for concern.

There was a dirty red car up ahead that she was hoping was this man's destination. He walked into the street now cutting off the curve of the road and making for the driver's side door.

Ling waited to make her move until she was sure that he was committed to the act of getting into the vehicle. He was getting in; Ling moved and a Ni'ng Wu can move very fast. She was sitting in the passenger seat before the surprised man had even finished shutting his door.