The Antique Page 9

  She was so deep in her own thoughts when she heard the screeching voice of the person she loathed. She took a deep breath and turned to see Riker’s smirking face staring back at her.

  “Hola, bella! How’s it going?” Riker’s smile was almost genuine.

  Elise threw a glance and attempted a sardonic smile. “What can I do for you, Fly?”

  “Whiskey is not my thing, so I figured I come here to look for a sweet one.”

  “Sweet one? Like a Riesling?”

  Riker forced out a dry laugh. “Haha, that’s right, but drinks are not what I have in mind…”

  Elise offered him a second, darker glance. “This sweet one is out of your league––-losers like you.”

  Riker feigned a surprised look but continued, “Why is it that you keep giving it to me, and I always come back for more? You don’t give me a chance, do you?”

  Elise sneered. “Order something expensive, and I will tell you.”

  Riker’s eyes scanned across Elise's breasts and said, “How about a dirty martini?”

  Elise rolled her eyes. “Gin or Vodka?”

  “Vodka, of course, Gin is for the girls.” Riker adjusted his posture on the barstool, then made several dry coughs as he focused his eyes on Elise's stare. “So, I heard that you have a nickname. It’s Kizu?”

  Elise froze, then replied coldly, “Where did you learn that? That is for my friends only.”

  “Friends? Ansen calls you that in front of me. I first thought he is seeing someone else; then I learned that is your nickname. Tell me, what do I have to do to change so you will start talking to me like an adult? You forgot when you first came here, I took you under my wings and offered you a job––-until you met this Ansen guy.”

  Elise didn’t answer that question but replied with one of her own. “When are you going to start dating someone your own age?” She put the finished martini next to Riker and hung the question in the air.

  Riker laughed. “I’m trying, ma’am, but the one I like don’t give me the time of day.”

  Elise was chatting with a couple near the other end of the bar while Riker continued his monologue. “I know why girls like you look down on guys like me. You think it’s like lowering your standard.” He picked up his martini and swung around the table. He carefully balanced the delicate martini glass while taking a small sip near the rim. He smacked his lips. “Damn, the bitch can really make a drink.” He purposely walked over to Elise, walked past her, then slowly doubled-back and leaned over the couple that was talking to Elise. “Sir, this woman is a fine specimen; she’s got the brain, the look, and a set of nice tits, sí?” He slapped the man on the back and walked away.

  A big bouncer by the name of Duane Pitt did not miss anything, but he recognized Riker and Ansen as two of the big-time spenders, so he tolerated Riker a lot; however, he still needed to make a point to draw a boundary for Riker, so he walked up to Riker and blocked his way.

  “Yes?” Riker stared up at the towering big man and took another sip of the icy martini.

  Big Duane lowered his voice, but it only made it more menacing. “Mr. Jones, I beg you, please leave Elise alone…she’s working.”

  Riker looked up to the big man and snickered. “Okay, I get it, there will be no broken bones for me tonight.” He raised his martini glass, saluted the couple he had just harassed, and winked at Elise. He turned and glared at big Duane. “Now would you please move your fat ghetto ass so I can pass?”

  Duane’s jawline knotted. He looked at Elise, waiting for her signal so he could drag the sorry jerk out to the front door, but Elise shook her head.

  Finally, Duane stepped aside and let Riker head back to the private room.

  Riker slid open the private room door, then turned around and stared at Elise as he closed the door with his free hand.

  Elise whispered, “What a degenerative, evolution anomaly.”

  Twenty minutes later, Ansen left the meeting room with another guy. They walked briskly over to the counter.

  “Hi, love, how are you doing?”

  Elise looked over her shoulder, feigning disinterest. “Yeah? What do you need?”

  “Oh, come on, love, even you are giving me a hard time? I have to go back to that stuffy room in about a minute. The meeting is not over yet.”

  Elise turned and greeted Ansen with a sweet smile. She batted her large, innocent eyes at Ansen and asked, “So, what’s all the secrecy?”

  “Say hi to Finley. He’s a transporter. You will be working with him soon.”

  Finley was a well-dressed man in his early forties. He had a muscular, slim, but athletic physique. His dark hair was slick and he wore a well-groomed mustache. His face showed early signs of aging, but his eyes were alert and attentive.

  “Nice to meet you, Elise.”

  Elise glanced inquisitively at Finley and took an instant liking to him. “Nice to meet you, Finley.”

  Ansen saw Elise's eyes and said in a mocking way, “Careful now; Finley is taken and he’s here for business.”

  Elise mocked a flirty stare back at Ansen. “Oh, so am I. Charmed…” She reached out to offer to shake Finley's hand.

  Finley smiled brightly at Elise and reached out his hand to shake hers. But when he shook her hand, he noticed that her wrist was twisted into an oblique angle, like it was broken. “Oh, shit––-” Finley let go of her hand and stepped back.

  Elise giggled. “Geez, I think you broke my wrist, tiger…”

  Finley stared back at Elise and saw the smile in her eyes. “Wait, guys––-very funny. She’s double-jointed!”

  Ansen laughed. “She only does that to those she likes. I guess you guys will work great together. I always wonder what good is this talent other than in––-”

  Elise reached out to cover Ansen's mouth, “Hey now, better watch your mouth. You will be surprised how this thing helped me get outta trouble many times over––-many times.”

  Finley nodded. “If you are double-jointed in the right place, it comes in handy getting out of handcuffs and chains, so I am told.”

  Ansen quipped, “As I said, it’s handy in the bedxerize department.”

  Finley raised his hands and looked away. “Okay, Ansen, oversharing. Nice to me you, Elise, it’s a pleasure.” He pointed his finger at the conference room. “I’m heading back now. You two enjoy.”

  When Finley was gone, Elise tossed Ansen a leer. “I can’t believe you said that!”

  Ansen apologized, “I’m sorry. Finley and I are actually close. You just never met him before because he is always busy.”

  “So I assume there’s a purpose for you to swing by? You are not here just to admire my double-jointed talent, are you?” Elise crossed her arms and waited for Ansen to respond.

  Ansen put up a hand to lower her voice. He waited until a couple next to them left, then handed her a manila envelope. “This is our job. Study this subject and we’ll talk later. The main target is marked red. He is our key target at the company’s party. We need to get to him first to avoid an audit of our accounts at the bank before we wire the money. The company’s party is next week. There’s also information about the other key players at the company. Make sure you remember their bios by heart. We will be going to the party under an invite from your friend. Okay, I got to go back to the clients now.” He leaned over and smooched Elise; then he scuttled back to the meeting room and shut the stained-glass screen door behind him.

  Elise's eyes followed Ansen's until he disappeared behind the closed door. She shook her head. “Men! They only come when they want favors or sex.”

  “Amen to that!” a waitress replied as she walked past Elise.

  During her break, Elise went to the women’s bathroom and flipped through the material inside the envelope. She was surprised at the level of details of the personal information of the targets: where they lived, the cars they drove, their wives’ and kids’ names, where they went to schools, and even a psych profile of each person. As she browsed through
the small stack of papers, her photographic memory picked up key facts and formed a hierarchical tree of knowledge for each person. When she landed on the page with red marking on the front page, she knew that was her main target. Craig Williams, age 41, never married. He graduated from Stanford with a double major in law and business. Now he was the VP of security and the auditing department. There was not much in the hobby section, only a passing mention that he liked to read. Last known book purchased at Amazon was a used textbook on human anatomy. Anatomy? Why? Unlike other subjects in the envelope, Craig didn’t own a fancy sports car––-he drove a Volvo. There were no records of sports or other fancy hobbies. He seemed to be a boring, private man that kept to himself. Elise shook her head. Why is it that the main target happens to be the most boring person in the world?

  An impatient woman outside pulled on the stall’s door and startled Elise. “It’s taken!” Elise put the material back into the envelope and murmured to herself. “All right, Craig, I’ll give you a party that you will never forget.” She stood up and checked herself before reaching for the door lock. She pulled the lock and felt a sharp pain. She pulled her finger back from the shock and found that she had just cut her finger on an exposed door lock screw. A deep slit of paper-cut wound was visible on her index finger, and the blood was starting to well up. “Damn it.” Elise wrapped several layers of toilet paper over the wound and pulled the door open with her other hand.

  An old lady was waiting outside. “Are you okay, sweetie?” the old lady asked as she backed from the stall to let Elise pass.

  Elise nodded but pressed against the injured finger. “I’m okay. It is all yours, but watch for the nail on the door lock.” She pointed at the lock on the door.

  Not too far off from the bar, Manfred had been following the scent of Elise and Maria to this town. He had been releasing his micro raven mosquitoes around to help him hone in on where Elise and Maria were. It took him a while, but he located Elise first, working in downtown, Seattle.

  Outside the bar, Manfred picked up Elise's scent with his ultra-sensitive olfactory organ. He opened his mouth slightly to let more scent in. The molecules triggered a response in his mouth, and it magnified the taste so it could match the molecule fingerprint with the flavor it received from his mosquitoes. He pushed the door open and walked into the bar. His figure cast a shadow from the bar’s bright halogen light. He waded past the patrons and chose a chair to sit in, in a dark corner. He scanned the faces inside the room and soon found what he was looking for. Even from this far distance, he could smell the blood on Elise's finger. He waited patiently for someone to come over. A waiter passed by and stopped at his table.

  “Do you want to order some drink?”

  “Bloody Mary,” Manfred replied, his voice harsh and scrappy.

  “Boy, sounds like you have a bad cold there, hon. Be right back with your drink.” She turned and walked away.

  “Miss?” Manfred stopped the girl.

  “Yes?”

  “Would you mind hand this to the bartender? It's from her lawyer.” He passed a sealed envelope to her.

  The waitress looked at the man with a hint of suspicion. She nodded and walked away.

  The girl handed the envelope to Elise and pointed at the man near the corner. She whispered something in Elise's ears and stood next to her for a few seconds before leaving.

  Elise picked up the envelope and eyed the man sitting in the far corner. His face was hidden in the shadows. She opened the envelope and looked at the envelope inside, but there was no letter. Something caught her eyes, and she stood frozen in shock. Inside the envelope was a ring. The ring belonged to Elise's father.

  Elise felt sudden dizziness. She steadied herself against the bar and searched for the man who had delivered the envelope. He was gone. She frantically looked around and saw the man leaving the bar.

  Elise pushed through the front door to give chase, but there was no trace of the man. She looked down on her palm and saw the ring, the ring that looked exactly like the ring that brought her years of nightmares. She dropped the ring onto the ground and thought about stamping it under her feet but decided to observe it more closely. She picked it up again and brought it to the light; she immediately recognized the embossed design. She brought the ring next to her burn scar, and it matched perfectly. Where did this guy get the ring from? Is this really Dad's ring? She could not be sure if the ring her dad had was one-of-a-kind, but what was the chance of someone to have the same type of ring? And how did the man know she had a history with the ring?

  That night she had nightmares. Memories that had stayed dormant for over two decades suddenly became vivid stories of living hell. In her dreams, she relived the night when her dad came home drunk. When she opened her eyes, she saw the man at the bar. His face was bleeding and he whispered to her, “Come see me.” She sat up and found her skin soaking wet. It was 3:03 a.m. and she was wide awake. She went to take a shower to clear her mind, but the images of her parents and her past grew more intense. She paced around the room until something told her to go back and look at the ring again, so she took out the ring from her purse, now enfolded inside the crumpled envelope. She hesitated for a long time before pulling out the ring. The sight of the ring shocked her again. It was like making a connection with her now deceased dad.

  She sat on the floor and felt sad that she never found out where her sister was. Several years back, she thought about looking up her sister but decided not to because she was afraid of what she might find. She wasn’t sure if her sister even wanted to know where she was, or learn about her “jobs.” She reflected on how she ended up where she was but had given up asking the question when she turned twenty. Everyone who had met her told her that she was very smart and should do something else. One time, a guy at the bar—a professor from the local university—even tried to get her to apply for college after he found out she could even speak Latin. She did an IQ test not too long ago and she was surprised by how high her score was. She learned most things fast, but nothing really interested her, until she met Ansen.

  She flipped the ring around and looked behind the polished surface. She recalled that the underside was made of a rough lattice pattern. Quite ugly, in fact: like a gnarly serpent curled up into a death struggle. She snickered and reflected on herself. Perhaps this is me, better acclimated to the ugly side of society. She thought she saw something like an inscription, which she didn’t realize existed before. The inscription was new and very small. She could not make out the words with her eyes, so she took out her cell phone and took a close-up picture. She then blew up the image on her phone to get a better look. The inscription read: Visit 6135 Chinatown. She remembered every street in Downtown Seattle, and she was familiar with the Chinatown area, but she didn’t recall the address 6135. That would put the place somewhere on the south side of an alley if her memory was correct. Well, there was only one way to find out. She went back to bed and curled up almost instantly, and no more dreams.

  Elise woke up the next morning to find the typical gray, dreary weather. By early afternoon, the dour sky turned to showers and by the time Elise reached the address in Chinatown, it was hailing. She made a necklace out of the ring using a strip of genuine leather. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do with it, but she felt a weird connection with the ring from the stranger, the cold touch it triggered as it rolled against her skin. Somehow it made her more alert and calmer at the same time. Perhaps it was the one piece that gave her connection to her past. No matter how horrible her experience was growing up, it made her who she was.

  It was much easier to take the transit than to drive around town as parking was impossible in that area. She went to the address and saw there was a dojo. She recalled she was around this downtown area not too long ago, and there had been no dojo then. The place was at first dark and she couldn’t see inside, but when she peered inside, she saw some movement. A man who looked like the teacher and several other students were putting on the Kendo
suit as she passed by their front door. She checked the address again with the photo in her phone and the address was correct. Whatever this place used to be, it was no longer there.

  The master did drills with the students. One by one, the students practiced attack moves with the master and the master responded with precise, quick counterattacks. Elise, with her affinity for martial arts, was instantly attracted to the Kendo style. Five students went through their drills, and at the end of the practice, the master turned his head at Elise and nodded. The other students sat down on the mat outside a circular ring. They poised, motionless, like statues. The master waited for Elise to respond, but Elise didn’t move. Finally, the master pointed his bamboo sword at Elise and waved her to come in. His movements were slow, deliberate, and calm.

  Elise couldn’t help but feel entranced into the dojo. Once she strolled onto the mat, she felt her feet tingle. Her mind was clear like never before, and she was fully focused.

  Elise was a black belt in karate and had also learned Wing Chung, so she was not easily intimidated. She bowed slightly as she walked in and inquired of the master in a polite tone.

  “Sorry, I’m here to look for someone who gave me a ring at the bar yesterday. The ring had the address to this place. Someone dropped this ring with me at the bar yesterday. I just need to find the person that gave me the ring.”

  “I gave you that ring,” the master replied.

  Elise's eyes widened. “You? Where did you get this ring?”

  “From your father,” the master replied in a dry voice.

  “My father? Where?”

  The master pointed at a Kendo suit next to the mat. “If you show me what you’ve got, I will tell you.”