lifeless, his mouth a straight line, but the first thing you noticed was that fucking scar, a black diamond ski slope running down the guy’s face. Mill felt his palms sweat just looking at the guy. He noticed the man scanning the tables, checking out the lines. He was probably just looking for the shortest one, but Mill wondered if he was giving all the customs guys the once-over.
Sure enough, he was coming to Mill’s table.
Mill looked at his watch. Two minutes to go. He looked back at the Chinese dude and tried to imagine himself telling the guy he’d have to stand for a search. Mill looked over his shoulder to see if Jeremy, his replacement, was headed this way.
Of course not. Jeremy was always late.
Mill looked back at his watch and made a decision.
“Welcome to San Francisco,” he said casually as he unzipped the black nylon duffle bag. Mill was halfway through the quick-zip when he caught a glimpse of metal. Shit. Sighing audibly, he pulled the zipper the rest of the way and revealed…a snow globe?
Amidst a bundle of shirts, underwear, and socks sat a snow globe six inches in diameter, a bright silver key sticking out from the bottom. Inside the globe two small figures of Chinese girls stood facing each other, one holding a fan, the other a sword. Before Mill could say anything, the scary guy reached out and turned the key.
A plaintive tune filled the air as the two girls circled each other, the one with the fan keeping the girl with the sword at bay. After an awkward minute during which Mill stared studiously at the snow globe while the man stared at him, the song ended and the two little girls seemed to tilt forward, an awkward mechanical bow. It was the strangest fucking snow globe Mill had ever seen.
“It’s for my niece,” said the man, his voice as deep as a well.
Mill smiled and nodded, feeling the sweat roll down his back. He zipped up the bag and waved the man forward, not saying another word.
He had to find another job. One without any unions.
Xan smiled as he walked through the glass doors and shouldered past the waiting families. He shouldn’t need any weapons for this trip, and he could always acquire them in Chinatown, but he liked to travel prepared for anything. He had made the snow globe himself. The gears were shuriken, throwing stars with razor tips. The flanges of the music box were metal darts. The wire spring coiled around the key had a finger- sized loop at each end and made an excellent garrote that could cut through a man’s windpipe in seconds.
Xan had not wanted to take this trip, but now that he was here, he planned on enjoying himself.
Hong Kong, 10 years ago
“You’ve killed six men in as many months.”
“You asked me to.”
Xan walked the length of the office and turned, hands behind his back. It was almost summer in Hong Kong, and he could feel the humidity on his back and neck as he paced. He looked down the long wooden table at Sally, who sat impassively watching him.
“As a graduate of the school, you sometimes get to choose your next,” Xan paused, searching for a word, “field trip.” He breathed through his nose and nodded, satisfied with his choice.
“Many of the girls go on field trips,” replied Sally, putting even more emphasis on the euphemism, her voice just this side of mocking. “They follow men, they take photographs, they infiltrate other clans. All very important work, no?”
“True,” Xan nodded. “But you, little dragon, always volunteer for the most dangerous assignments.” He studied her again before adding, “You and Jun, of course. You have more kills between you than all the other girls combined.”
Sally shrugged but didn’t say anything.
“You’ve killed six men,” he said.
“You mentioned that already,” replied Sally. “Is there a prize when I reach ten?”
Xan stopped and studied Sally for some sign of emotion, but she betrayed nothing. No anger, remorse, or even grim satisfaction could be found on her face or in her voice. Xan shook his head. They might as well have been talking about the weather.
“It’s humid today,” he prompted.
“I noticed,” replied Sally, her voice pleasant.
“How do you feel about it?” asked Xan.
“The humidity?”
Xan exhaled loudly. “No.” Realizing that Sally might be playing with him. “The men you killed.”
“They were only men.” Sally shrugged and looked away, thinking this wasn’t something she wanted to discuss with Xan. The question wasn’t as simple as “how do you feel about it?” Sally didn’t want to tell Xan that she saw Kano’s face in the eyes of the men she killed, his expression frozen in that moment when arrogance had turned to fear. Or that part of her felt stronger for killing these men, and she was never afraid, and she never felt alone.
Sally didn’t want to tell Xan any of this because then she’d have to admit to herself that those feelings never lasted. Death had kept her company these past six months, but his companionship hadn’t made her feel any better.
It hadn’t made her feel any worse, either.
Xan had been studying her face. “Not all men are bad, little dragon,” he said quietly.
Sally looked up at him with a calm expression, her eyes making it clear she thought Xan was incredibly naive.
“I’ll have to get out more,” she said simply. “Meet a better class of gangster.”
Xan sighed, wondering why he felt compelled to ask this girl about anything. Was she not a perfect weapon? He had learned over the years to kill without hesitation and had taught Sally well. So why did this girl always fill him with a sense of…what?
The sense that you are looking in a mirror, he told himself, shutting his eyes as he walked toward the back of the room.
From behind his closed lids, a young woman smiled at Xan. Standing on a dock cradling a child in her arms, a baby girl. The woman’s face open and smiling, her eyes bright. The young mother waved at Xan, her dark hair swept sideways by the wind off the harbor. She moved down the dock toward Xan. She never saw the powerboat come up behind her.
The boat’s engines roared, muffling the sound of the automatic weapon. Bullets tore through the woman’s back, rocking her forward onto her knees, her arms still clutching the baby. As she stared at Xan with her mouth open, blood-red constellations appeared on her blouse, forming in slow motion on her chest, along her arms, and across the baby’s blanket.
Xan opened his eyes and blinked away the memory before turning back toward Sally. We cannot choose our fate. We can only choose which path we take when fate arrives. Sally had made her choice when she walked through the black door, and it was her path to follow. Xan knew that he, of all people, was in no position to question her now.
Sally seemed to read his mind. “Master Xan, why did you want to see me?”
“I didn’t,” he replied. “But the Master of the Mountain did.”
Sally sat straighter in her chair. She had never met the Dragon Head, even after her trip to Tokyo. In fact, she had never been told the result of that trip or what had become of the man in the pictures she’d taken. Sally got her instructions from Xan, who told her just enough to motivate her and provide the necessary background for her assignment. According to Xan, any more information could put her at risk. When Sally had asked,
