“Is it now?” Tristan said.
“Now where would we be apt to find Wing Sin territory” The boy pointed to his left down a corridor as a number of fierce-looking teenage boys stepped out of doorways.
“Thanks, mate,” Tristan said. He touched the brim of his hat.
Then he pulled Marissa away.
“I don’t like this at all,” Marissa said as they groped in a particularly dark passage, half bent over. She stepped in a puddle of water and wondered what kind of foul fluid it was.
“At least we’re getting close,” Tristan said.
“That boy was the first person to acknowledge he’d heard of the Wing Sin.”
The corridor opened up again on a small, rubbish-strewn courtyard. A young girl was sitting on a stairway.
“Would you care for some honey” she asked timidly.
“Only two dollars.”
“Honey!” Tristan repeated.
“That’s an old term.”
“What does it mean?” Marissa asked, staring at the girl. She was dressed in a ragged, Chinese-style dress with a high collar and a traditional slit.
“We Australians prefer to use the T’ word,” Tristan said.
Marissa was appalled.
“But she’s only about ten!”
Tristan shrugged.
“The Chinese like their whores young.”
Marissa couldn’t take her eyes off the girl. The child stared back at her blankly. Marissa shuddered. Never had she realized just how sheltered she’d been, growing up in Virginia.
“Uh oh!” Tristan said.
“Looks like a welcoming party.”
Marissa followed his gaze. A group of young toughs dressed in leather outfits decorated with stainless-steel chains was approaching.
Their ages ranged from about fifteen to twenty.
A particularly muscular member of the group held up his hand, effectively stopping the others.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded in fluent English.
“Don’t you know that gweilos are not allowed in the Walled City?”
Tristan told him that they were trying to contact the Wing Sin Triad.
“What for?” the young man asked.
“Are you after drugs or sex?”
“Neither,” Tristan said.
“We’re looking for information.
We’re willing to pay.”
“Let’s see your money,” the man said.
Tristan wasn’t sure what to do. He would have liked to defuse the situation, but he didn’t know how. He scanned the intent faces watching him. No one made a move, but Tristan knew they were prepared to. Slowly, he reached into his pocket and drew out his wallet. Taking a few bills out, he held them up.
“One of them has a knife!” Marissa whispered, spotting a glint of steel.
“Run!” commanded Tristan, tossing the money into the air and giving Marissa a push back the way they’d come. Needing no more encouragement than that, Marissa turned and fled down the dark passageway. She stumbled over debris and bumped into a wall. Behind her she heard Tristan following. She soon reached the confluence of passageways they had passed moments before.
She couldn’t remember which way they’d come from. Tristan collided with her, then grabbed her hand. Together they ran down the widest corridor.
Behind them echoed unintelligible shouts from the youths who’d confronted them. Having seized the money, they were now in hot pursuit.
Marissa and Tristan realized they were lost. They arrived at a courtyard they had not yet seen. A small, shuttered house stood at its center. Above was the first patch of sky they’d seen since they’d entered the Walled City.
Skirting the house, they entered another tunnel. From the shouts and catcalls they could tell that the thugs were gaining on them. The Chinese youths had an unfair advantage: they knew the place.
Rounding a corner, Marissa and Tristan came across another spate of alcoves. One of the rooms was a restaurant with a large cauldron of boiling crab-claw soup. A half dozen simple wooden tabIcs surrounded the pot. A few old men were playing MahJongg at one of them.
Skidding to a stop, Tristan pulled Marissa into the tiny restaurant. Several of the tables overturned. Mah-Jongg tiles scattered on the rough wooden floor.
The pursuers were on them in a flash, as out of breath as Marissa and Tristan. Several were brandishing knives. Their faces were tight with determination.
Pushing Marissa into a corner behind him, Tristan assumed a kung fu stance, expecting one of the young Chinese to make a lunge at him. instead everyone froze again, including the elderly patrons, who’d moved against a far wall, as far from the frenzy as possible.