Peccadillo - A Katla Novel (Amsterdam Assassin Series Book 2) (21 page)

The frail Chinese blind man stumbled a bit on the traffic islands separating the tram rails from the road, but regained his balance and was about to cross the second section, when the motorcycle pulled up. The guide dog backed away, but the rider aimed right for the Labrador and ran him down. The passenger whipped a telescopic baton at the blind man’s face.
 

At the sound of the guide dog’s howling, Katla could see Bram rising from the park bench and turn in the direction of the park entrance. She cursed under her breath. If he’d had his ear phone, she could’ve told him to stay where he was.

The rider stomped his motorcycle boots on the head of the maimed guide dog. His passenger whacked the blind man’s head repeatedly with the telescopic baton. A spray of blood arced through the air.

Tsui Pak Yun released the dog’s harness and staggered backward, his hands to his face.

Across the road, a cyclist with a little girl in the front seat used his coat to shield the infant from watching the violent spectacle, his own face twisted in mute horror.

A final brutal blow of the baton spun the blind man around as he sagged to the ground.

The V-Strom roared away in the direction of the Muiderstraat, the engine howling as the Suzuki crossed the bridge and disappeared from view.
 

Bram walked quickly to the entrance of the park. Patrons of Smit & Voogt streamed from the café and ran to the motionless blind man lying on the traffic island, curled into a foetal position. Katla crossed the road and cut Bram off as he moved to the gathering crowd.
 

She grabbed his arm. “Bram! Come with me.”

“What about Yun?”

“Nothing you can do for him.”

Katla pulled him along in the direction of the Hortus Botanicus.
 

He clutched her arm. “What happened?”

“The motorcycle guys ran down his dog and hit Yun’s head repeatedly with a baton.”

They walked along the water and halted by a bench. “You saw the whole thing?”

“They were waiting for him. Planned attack. Dark motorcycle, dark gear.”

“You… You could’ve done something. Anything!”

“Like what? They looked like sicarios, but I didn’t think they actually were killers until they moved on Yun.”

Bram sank down on the bench. “Oh, Jesus. This is bad.”

“I think they were Kau Hong.” Katla sat down next to him, put her arms around his shaking shoulders. “Yun must’ve talked to the wrong person about the pendant.”

Bram straightened and pushed her arm away. “This is all your fault.”

“If it makes you more comfortable to blame me, go ahead.”

Sirens sounded as police cars and motorcycles came down to the intersection from all sides. From behind them, Katla could hear the sirens of ambulances from the OLVG hospital. She collapsed Bram’s cane and stuck it away in his inside pocket.

“You don’t want to stand out as blind near the savage beating of another blind man.” Katla pulled him up from the bench. “Let’s go to your house.”

They walked slowly, Bram allowing himself to be led, his face a mask. Together they crossed under the Weesperstraat and walked along the Nieuwe Herengracht past the Hermitage. Raindrops made small circles in the still water of the canal.

He shook himself. “You think he’s dead?”

“If he isn’t, I doubt if he’ll survive this. A telescopic baton is a brutal weapon and Yun couldn’t see it coming, so he couldn’t shield himself.”

“I’m sorry.” Tears coursed down his scarred cheeks. “I didn’t mean what I said.”

“It’s all right.”

“No, it isn’t!” He stopped walking. “Yun… I shouldn’t—”

“It’s not your fault. Don’t do that to yourself.”

“I involved him. This is my fault.”

“Yun is an adult. He makes his own choices.”

“I involved him. And now I got him killed.”

Katla led him away. If he wanted to blame himself, there was nothing she could do or say.

-o-

Bram toyed with his cell phone. “I should drop by Yun’s shop, tell his relatives what happened.”

“You can’t.”

“Katla…”

“What will you say?” Her voice came closer. “You didn’t see what happened.”

“You did.”

“I won’t tell them.”

“They have a right to know.”

“Why?” Katla sounded genuinely curious. “What comfort will it bring them?”

“The 14K needs to know. So they can take appropriate measures.”

“Revenge, you mean? You want them take the revenge you cannot take personally?”

“You don’t understand—”

“I tell you what’s going on.” Her voice was soft. “Yun is now being investigated by the traffic police. The attack was witnessed by several people at the café on the corner, who’ll be heard as witnesses. Detectives will investigate the attack and links to possible crimes, because it rarely happens that a blind person is attacked so savagely. I understand that you want to talk to Yun’s family, but the best thing to do now is to keep our distance. We don’t want to be part of an investigation, especially if this attack becomes a homicide.”

“I just want to, you know, commiserate…”

“Reports of this attack will spread like wildfire through the Chinese community. I don’t doubt that the 14K will investigate this matter themselves. You don’t have to contribute. You’re not a witness. Just keep a low profile.”

He knew she was right, but it didn’t make him feel less lousy. If he hadn’t asked Yun about the pendant…

“You’re not to blame,” Katla said. “I know you’re probably feeling guilty, but Yun was quite willing to participate, even though he knew this case involved at least one killer and a dead Kau Hong member.”

“Do you think I’m at risk?”

Katla sighed audibly. “You once made a remark about my moral deficiency, when I almost hit you in Dolfijn’s gallery. The Kau Hong just proved they’re definitely morally deficient. They didn’t care about Yun’s blindness. They won’t care about yours either.”

Bram felt a chill. Not because of her words, but the almost undetectable tremble in her voice. Katla feared for his safety, and that scared him more than he wanted to acknowledge.

“You didn’t take the pendant.”

Nicky sat in the corner of the office, watching Chen squirm under the cold fury of Gene Zhang. The young Red Pole glanced at him, but Nicky wasn’t going to help him. Not this time.
 

Zhang also noticed the glance. “Why are you looking at Nick? He’s not going to save your hide. You screwed up.”

“He didn’t have the pendant on him, Vanguard.”

“You checked?”

Chen looked at the floor. “We did.”

“We? Both of you went through his pockets? Did you park the motorcycle?”

“No, we—”

Zhang smacked the table, his flat hand making a sharp crack against the desk top. Chen’s head shot up.

“Not ‘we’, Chen. You rode pillion, you attacked that blind
lan yeung
. Nick instructed you to get the pendant, before you beat him up.”

“I’m sorry, Vanguard.”

Gene Zhang turned to Nicky. “What do you think, Nick?”

Nicky looked at Chen. “You don’t deserve to be a Red Pole.”

Chen opened his mouth, closed it with a snap.

“With rank comes responsibility,” Nicky said. “Even if the mistake was not yours, you’re accountable. That’s what it means to be a Red Pole.”
 

“I had high hopes for you,” Zhang said. “And it pains me to demote you, but you have to think carefully if you can shoulder the responsibility of a Red Pole. I’ll decide in a few months whether to reinstate you, but you’ll have to prove your worth.”

Chen rose and slunk out of the office. Zhang waited until he was gone and turned to Nicky. “I guess the pendant is in the hands of the police.”

“Maybe. It might still be in Ah Yun’s possession. At the hospital.” Nicky fished out his cell phone. “We just have to figure out where they’ve taken him and have someone pay him a visit.”

-o-

Bernie Wong donned his sunglasses and strode down the hospital corridor, elated at the feeling of Eric Kwong’s pendant in his pocket. Being a mere Blue Lantern, despite being a nephew of Zhang, was tiresome, but now, through Chen’s mistake, Bernie had a chance at making full membership and become a soldier in the Kau Hong. Showing boldness and ingenuity in reclaiming the pendant would be appreciated by Uncle Zhang. Bernie knew Nicky had chosen him because his mixed heritage made him look less obviously Chinese, but right now that didn’t bother him at all. That curse had finally become a blessing.
 

Up ahead an elevator arrived and Bernie hurried to catch it as a tall robed woman halted between the doors and turned her veiled face in the direction of his running steps. She seemed taken aback at his swift approach and moved to the back of the elevator car. Not just her lower face was covered, even her eyes were hidden by grid of lace that allowed her to look out. Bernie saw just the briefest glimmer of eyes. Weird muslims and their idiotic way to drape their women from head to toe in concealing robes. As if all men were crazed rapists who would attack a women if she showed an inch of skin. In a sense, those robes were an insult to male restraint, degrading men to impulsive beasts.

He gave the robed woman a twitchy smile and faced the wall to peek another glance at the prize in his pocket. Only soldiers who passed initiation were allowed to wear the pendant. Blue Lanterns like Bernie were not worthy yet of such distinction.

The elevator descended in silence, then Bernie heard a sharp click and the elevator came to an abrupt halt between two floors. He turned and looked in the coldest blue eyes he had ever seen staring at him through the lacework of the robe. Peering down at him, the expressionless steadiness of the frosty gaze was disquieting. Bernie wasn’t sure that he was looking at a person, the azure eyes seemed more like those of a malevolent spirit. The spectral figure took its hand from the control panel and floated in his direction. Involuntarily Bernie backed away until he felt the cool steel wall of the elevator against his back. He reached with his right hand into his jacket, but before he managed to draw his gun, a gloved hand shot out of the robes and jabbed him on the upper arm. Although the jab didn’t seem like an aggressive move, an electric shock traveled from his shoulder to his fingers and he dropped the gun. Before the Heckler & Koch could fall on the floor, the spectre caught the gun. Bernie put up his left hand, tried to push the gun away, but the spectre flicked off the safety, moved like smoke through his defences and pressed the barrel into his cheekbone.

“Remove your sunglasses.” The voice as soft and hoarse, neither feminine nor male.

“W—why?”

“You want me to break them on your face?” the spectre inquired softly, the voice almost friendly. Bernie took off the sunglasses and held them in his left hand, trying not to look into the empty blue eyes.

“First things first.” The spectre took his right index finger and casually snapped the bone at the first knuckle. Bernie opened his mouth to scream, but the spectre jammed the barrel of his gun into his mouth until he gagged. “Just making sure you won’t be using a gun for a while.”

The spectre grabbed for his left hand and Bernie dropped his sunglasses and tried to hide his left hand behind his back, but the spectre only chuckled. “You want to play a game and extend the fun? Just for that, I’ll go along.”

The spectre grabbed his left index finger and bent it backwards, but slowly this time. The pain was excruciating. The inability to scream multiplied the horror. The limit of his finger was reached and the sickening snap brought bile to his throat and he gagged against the barrel of the gun in his mouth.

“I have to be careful,” the spectre murmured. “You could be ambidextrous.”

The barrel withdrew from his mouth and the spectre said, “Time for answers. Truthful answers, I detest lies.”

With the left hand lightly on his right shoulder, the thumb touched his throat. “Are you with the Kau Hong?”

“Kau Hong?”

The hard thumb dug deep into the skin behind his collarbone, flooding his body with numbing pain. His bones splintered into spun glass, his muscles became jelly. Warm urine streamed down his legs and he slumped against the elevator wall, black spots dancing before his eyes. The thumb eased up and the dull ache in his shoulder grew sharp and painful. The back of his head bumped against the elevator wall as his chin was pushed up by the cold hard barrel of his own gun.
 

The spectre’s voice rang in his ears, cold like the metal against his back. “Don’t faint on me or I’ll break bones to revive you.”

Bernie groaned and opened his eyes.

“Your nausea will pass.” The spectre stepped back and scrutinised him as if he were a laboratory rat. “That artery carries oxygen to your brain. I blocked it for an instant.”

“Who are you?”
 

“I’m angry at the persons who hurt the guy you just visited.”

“I didn’t—”

He flinched as the hand shot out at him and the hard thumb tapped against his throat.
 

“Are you with the Kau Hong?”

“I’m not a full member. I—”

“You’re here to retrieve the pendant.”

Bernie nodded. “You killed Eric.”

“Eric won’t be the last. The Kau Hong fucked with the wrong people. Worse than the 14K.” The hand with the gun disappeared inside the robes and when it came out the gun was gone and a wicked looking knife gleamed in the light. “Bare your left arm.”

“What? Why?”

“I’m going to carve my name into your skin.”

He squirmed away, but the spectre followed and pressed down with the thumb. The pain was immediate, electrifying. The spectre grabbed him by the throat and slammed him casually against the wall. “I could just kill you. Leave my name on your dead body.” The blue eyes gazed at him dreamily. “Conveys the message just as well when your friends claim you at the morgue.”

“Just tell me the name,” Bernie said. “I’ll remember. I swear.”

The spectre didn’t answer, but looked at the ceiling of the elevator. The relief of not having to look into that terrible gaze was immense.