Thunder in Formosa "How do you like the
view?" May-lin asked.
Undercover CIA operative
Alec Pierce paused on a wobbly mountain step, and panted in the humid jungle
heat. A wall of salty perspiration washed over his forehead, stinging his eyes.
He brushed his
sandy-colored hair aside, and looked up the full length of the young woman's
gawky, ivory legs. Taiwan could be a disorienting place at times, but for now,
the young female Professor of Geology was his focus.
"From here," he said,
"the view's just fine."
May-lin leaned on a knee
and studied him. "You are a dirty old man," she said, and swept her bell-shaped
culottes between her legs.
"I object," he said
between gasps for breath. "I'm only thirty-three."
"I am busy using an
expression," she said, and tucked her long black hair beneath her baseball cap.
He directed his gaze
downward. Water bounded past him in an uncontrolled plunge from pool to pool.
Stone bridges arched over the waterfall as the trail snaked its way down the
gorge, past mossy rocks, tree-sized ferns, and peaceful pools of floating lotus
leaves. Far below, ancient trees folded over the view like the fingers of two
hands.
"Are we there yet, oh
master?" he inquired.
"I think it is coming
ahead. And I am not your master. I am your mistress."
He drew up beside her,
and pulled his most rakish grin. "Did you say you're my mistress?"
Her intense eyes studied
him with incomprehension.
"Now we resume," she
said. She spoke flawless English as if working directly from Webster's
Dictionary. The trouble was that the grammar needed tweaking, and the
connotations often sent out unintended messages.
Alec's two years in
Taiwan had tuned his ear to the Chinese English spoken there. Yet, he never knew
if May-lin understood all the implications of what she said.
Studying her earnest,
heart-shaped face, he felt balding Professor Lien's presence like never before.
The old man, with his half-closed eyes and the wisps of white hair clinging to
his chin, had dictated the entire course of Alec's life on Taiwan. Alec's
mission with the CIA was a simple one: practice Chinese, understand Taiwan's
complex society and institutions, and follow whatever instructions Professor
Lien gave him. For no reason obvious to Alec, the professor eventually assigned
him to May-lin's Geology Department.
Alec had seen enough
depleted zinc and half-excavated lead mines during his undergraduate years as a
Chemistry major at the University of Michigan to justify the research position.
Nearly two years had passed, and he wasn't quite sure of the enigmatic Professor
Lien's intentions for him, and even less sure of May-lin's.
The reasons for ending
up in the Geology Department seemed whimsical at best. The old man had
hesitated for several weeks before assigning him anywhere at the university. He
had hosted several dinners for Alec and his husky half-brother, Mick, and
Mick's spirited wife, Natalie, who were both American officials stationed in
Taiwan. In fact, the old man seemed more attracted to them than to him.
Perhaps it was Natalie's
proximity to the State Department's visa department that spurred the
vacillating man to show any interest in Alec at all. She was the economic
counselor at the pseudo-embassy called the American Institute in Taiwan, or AIT
for short. Since the U.S. didn't recognize Taiwan as an independent country, it
only conducted business on Taiwan unofficially.
Pushing the limits of
unofficial diplomacy with a government the United States didn't recognize, AIT
looked after America's numerous interests in Taiwan. Every section of a normal
Embassy was present in some form at the Institute, including that of the
Central Intelligence Agency.
Perhaps the professor
was waiting for word from Alec's half-brother, Mick, who played a more shadowy
role at AIT, often not appearing at the office for weeks on end. Presumably the
professor knew that Mick worked as Alec's case officer for the CIA. But why
would Mick suggest the Geology Department?
Or was the old professor
motivated by a romantic notion? Did he have May-lin in mind for Alec?
Alec's own interest in
her was quite genuine. Dr. Hu May-lin's single-minded devotion to any cause but
Alec had only served to intrigue him more. His slow penetration of her personal
feelings and commitments ultimately led him to conclude that she had absolutely
no personal feelings on any subject, and certainly none for him.
Only two weeks earlier,
long after he had abandoned all amorous efforts, she had unexpectedly warmed up
to him. Their increasingly personal conversations had eventually led to that
afternoon hike.
She resumed the climb,
and spoke over her shoulder. "The Lover's Temple is crowding today. It is
better to come here instead. This is my favorite temple."
"What kind of temple is
it?"
"Oh, one of these
general temples. A little bit of everything. I hope you are not minding
heights."
He grabbed a chalky rock
turned yellow by sulfur. "If you can handle it, I can, too," he said. Never
mind the fact that one step backward meant a fifty-foot drop-off to death. The
young lady had an unusual appetite for danger.
At last, he heard a
grunt, then a sigh of relief. Her sneakers had reached level ground. He
squeezed his eyes shut, and mounted the final hand-carved steps.
When he opened his eyes,
he stood on a terrace, May-lin's warm body close to his. Even in a vast
subtropical forest, the Chinese had no personal space-not that he objected.
He removed his
shirttails from his shorts to dissipate the heat. Blood pounded in his ears,
and his lungs choked under a new assault: incense billowing from a joss prayer
house. Exquisite green dragons and feathery red fish were mounted on the edges
of the curving roof, their spirits protecting the shrine from consuming itself
in fire.
"Can we sit down?"
"Of course," she said.
She led him to a slab table. There they plunked down on a ring of stone stools.
He untied a water flask
from his belt, and gave her the first sip, which she accepted without a word.
Gradually, his attention
turned to the far hills beyond the clouds of incense. Taiwan's deep green,
volcanic hills were truly the stuff of ancient paintings. It was difficult to
imagine that so much turmoil existed between the tiny island nation and the
Mainland, just ninety miles across the Taiwan Strait.
May-lin wiped her lips,
and handed him the flask. Chugging the metallic-tasting spring water, he
shifted his attention to the temple. Two men lingered inside the shallow yet
elaborately decorated room. He heard the plop of prayer blocks on stones. If
one moon-shaped block landed face up and the other face down, the men could
choose a prayer stick and read their fortune.
It was a pretty
red-and-gold temple, but it was a public place. "Let's find a quiet spot," he
said.
She didn't seem to
understand. "Is this not private?"
"Not private enough for
what I have in mind."
She hesitated, fingering
the shoulder straps of her Spandex tank top. He saw a line of perspiration seep
between her shallow breasts.
"I see that you are
looking at my blouse," she said.
"I have been for quite
some time. Nice fabric."
"Thanks. I am buying him
in Hong Kong."
"I like the way he
stretches." He looked in wonder at her shining eyes.
Then he realized that he
was hearing nothing. The prayer blocks had stopped.
May-lin's surprised eyes
tore away from him as two shadows, one thin and one wide, suddenly crept over
him.
He felt long fingernails
pierce his shoulders.
"Foreigner," a tight
voice said in his ear.
Alec stood.
A wraithlike man as thin
as bamboo studied him with cold eyes.
Another Chinese man
chewed a dripping wad of blood-red betel nut, and was working himself into a
frenzy. "You do not belong with a Chinese woman," he hissed in Fujian dialect.
The thin man's
fingertips drove into his solar plexus. Alec, his feet caught by the stool,
crashed backward onto the table. He heard May-lin shriek as she jumped away.
Slowly, he rolled off
the table, rubbing the pain in his chest. A cough welled up within him, but he
fought to suppress it.
He lurched away from the
table to divert attention from May-lin. The men stalked him. No words were
spoken. The topic had been raised, and the issue would be resolved.
Alec didn't know their
combat style. But he could guess.
He had one thing in his
favor. He was calm, and it was easier to handle someone who couldn't control
his anger.
Two kicks from the angry
man's stout legs into Alec's ribs sent him scraping a shoulder and both knees
on the flagstone terrace.
Then the thin man took
his turn again. A propeller of knife-like hands sliced past Alec's shielding
feet and into his throat and chest.
The men were more than
angry. They had something else on their minds.
As he lay on his back,
Alec gained some leverage with his feet and diverted the thin man's chi, hurling him away.
Vaguely he heard May-lin
screaming in Mandarin.
The thin man rolled back
onto his feet with one smooth motion. Alec regained his full height, his back
to the drop-off he had just laboriously climbed.
Just as he initiated a
lunge at the crouching man with the razor blade hands, he felt a sudden gust of
wind, and caught a blur of color flying past. He used an elbow to nudge it
aside as it bumped against his shoulder.
The blood-red lips and
ebony teeth had jumped at him, and Alec had neatly, if entirely fortuitously,
sidestepped the leap.
A moment later, he heard
an agonized shriek vanishing below him.
The thin man froze.
The pudgy flailing body
disappeared from view. Alec only heard an abrupt swish of leaves like the
hungry chomp of a plant, then a pulpy thud on solid stone. There was no cry.
The thin man fled down
the steps after his comrade. Alec felt a sudden dizziness, and dropped to one
knee that was dripping blood. He touched his damaged throat.
May-lin's sneakers
approached.
"Just tell me one
thing," he croaked as he tried to dislodge what felt like crushed cartilage in
his larynx. "Whose idea was this, anyway?"
"I am sorry," she said
in tears. "He is my idea."