The sedan flashed its headlights twice.

Things stayed that way until the sedan pulled off the sidewalk and slowly came out of the alley. The minivan fell in behind.

Jack keyed the ignition, gave them a block’s distance before he started tailing them. They came to a busy avenue and mixed in with afternoon traffic, with Jack still several cars back. After a ten-minute drive, a short distance, they reached James Street. The sedan and minivan pulled over as Jack passed them and circled, figuring he’d double back and wind up watching them from behind.

The street was quiet when Jack pulled back into James Street.

It started to rain again as everyone waited.

Blind Faith

Mona knew that a brisk walk would bring her to the water-front in twenty minutes. Even in the light rain, it would take her no more than twenty-five minutes. She’d abandon the tour bus plan and take the ferry, right now.

She’d chosen the running sneakers she’d always worn with her jogging outfit from the Spa Garden. Her legs and lungs had gotten stronger, she knew, and so had the shattered pieces of her soul. She zippered shut her shoulder bag, closed her eyes, and took a breath. Opening her eyes, she scanned the little apartment, making sure nothing telltale would be left behind. When the red door closed behind her, she double-bolted the lock.

She didn’t plan on coming back.

Tail and Trail

They were watching the street, or a house, Jack figured. But which one? He downed the last of his black coffee, hoping he wouldn’t have to wait too long for an answer.

Walk, Don’t Run

Looping the adjustable strap of the black rubber bag over her head, Mona slid the bag against her hip and ribs and stepped out into the concrete-gray Seattle afternoon.

A little black umbrella sprang open in her hand as she went west on James Street.

“Look,” Alex said intently. A woman had exited one of the houses. She was dressed in black, and wore black jogging shoes. Jack caught a glimpse of her face before the umbrella came up, as she turned left and went up the street.

Jack sensed the other vehicles keying their engines and he did the same.

The woman kept her umbrella low over her head, and held it at an angle so that it was hard to see her face. Walking quickly, she headed west toward the waterfront.

The sedan waited, let her go a short distance before following her, with the minivan behind.

Jack fell in line, well back, but able to keep the others in view. Alex did her best to copy down license numbers.

Mona noticed there were only a few people out on the streets, mothers and nannies picking up schoolchildren, older kids with bookbags on their backs. An occasional deliveryman. None of them was Chinese. Or Asian.

She opened her mouth slightly and sucked in air between her teeth as she went.

Her heart pounded a beat inside her ears.

It was a slow-motion pursuit, as if the stalkers were biding their time, waiting for the right opportunity. He wondered who was in the minivan. Paper Fan? More goons? How many men would it take to kidnap a woman? He brushed back the edge of his jacket, felt the reassuring grip of the Colt.

The odd procession rolled along.

The woman occasionally glanced behind her, but the rain had chased people off the streets. After several blocks, Jack wondered if she could maintain the pace, but she seemed to have the legs for it, never letting up.

The buildings got taller when she approached Pioneer Square, a tourist destination even in the rain. Scattered groups of tourists in wet plastic ponchos were taking flash pictures.

She zigzagged through Pioneer Square as if she knew where she was going, heading toward the railroad tracks, the bus terminals, the piers along the waterfront.

The sedan barged through traffic to keep up as she forged ahead, dodging the clots of tourist umbrellas, veering left as she left the square. Just beyond where the avenues ended, a set of block-long industrial buildings provided a truck thoroughfare that cut diagonally toward the terminals.

She’d walked that stretch before, and only occasionally seen deliverymen in vans and trucks. A convenient shortcut. Seeing no one around, she seemed to relax her pace. The gray minivan struggled to stay behind the sedan.

Abruptly, she cut left behind a series of warehouses lining a deserted road that ran parallel to the railroad yards. The truck route was desolate under the Sunday rain. No people around, perfect. She quickened her pace again.

The sedan turned sharply into the shortcut, speeding up toward the warehouse road.

Jack lost sight of them momentarily but found himself getting too close to the gray minivan. He was forced to slow down in order not to expose himself and then had to go around traffic at a red light.

When he saw them again, the sedan had slowed near an access ramp to the piers, and the minivan suddenly cut in front of it, disappearing into the truck road. The angle at which the sedan had stopped effectively blocked off the turn toward the warehouses.

Jack pulled over, wondering if they’d spotted his tail. He got out of the car and crossed the street, where he could see down the long road. Alex followed cautiously, eyeing the sedan.

“Stay back!” Jack snapped at her, drawing his Colt revolver. She ducked behind a metal Dumpster as Jack spotted the minivan moving past the warehouses, a long block away.

Hearing the squeal of tires behind her, Mona turned and saw the minivan screeching to a stop partway down the road. Two men jumped out of it and started sprinting toward her.

She froze for a second before tossing the umbrella and breaking into a dash toward the bay.

Jack saw the two men chasing the woman. Neither he nor Alex noticed the big man who appeared from between parked cars. The man had seemingly come out of nowhere, knife in hand. He was already jumping at Jack, who’d looked back instinctively over his shoulder. Reflexively ducking away, Jack twisted and brought his gun hand up, pointed toward heaven, and pulled the trigger. He heard Alex’s scream mixed with the repeating thunder from the Colt, then two more explosions as the impact of the man’s body bowled him over, slamming them both to the concrete pavement.

Jack squeezed off two more shots, the noise muffled against the heavyweight’s body.

Almost there, Mona panted, just another block. The terminal loomed up ahead. She breathed in gasps but her legs were strong from the long jogs back to Chinatown.

Her lead lasted almost fifty yards.

The two men caught her and started pulling and pushing her toward the minivan, which had backed up onto the end pier. They pinned her arms and dragged her along, screaming and kicking. She tried digging in her heels but her sneakers skidded across the wet planking of the boardwalk. The abductors were carrying her toward the end of the pier. One of the men slapped her but she kept screaming.

Fuck! Jack felt blood oozing from his ear, adding to the shock wave washing over him, the man’s bulk now a dead weight on top of him. It took two shaolin breaths before he could shove the man off.

The concrete pavement had banged a gong into his head, but Jack recognized the man as the goon with the nunchakus from the temple. His knife had skidded to a stop near the Dumpster where Alex crouched.

They continued forcing Mona along.

A small boat was moored illegally at the end of the pier. An older man stepped out of the minivan, angry at her screaming, and at the sound of gunfire. He barked some slang Cantonese at the two men.

“Mo lun yung! Both of you are useless! Go back and stall them!” He grabbed Mona by the wrist as the men scampered back toward the street. She twisted and resisted but was unable to break his iron grip. She was ready to scream again when he dug a fist into her belly that drove the air out of her, dropping her to her knees. He held her contemptuously by her hair as she gasped for breath.