Page 50 of Shadow Lies

Of all the kung fu weapons, the staff, sometimes called the monkey stick, seemed the least deadly. No sharp blades or heavy metal. Just a length of bamboo, flexible wood or lightweight hollow metal. But it was one of the more versatile and useful in a fight.

But because of that perceived impression that it was just a boring stick that couldn’t inflict much if any damage, his demonstration had to be all the more elaborate.

Given that, he was last in the line-up. The grand finale of the weapon demonstrations after which all the brothers would rejoin him and they’d do the final group demonstration.

Out on the floor alone with all eyes on him was a whole other level of nerve wracking.

Kane gripped the lower quarter of the staff with one hand and swung it in an arc. Following the motion with his body, he spun in a complete circle, ending the move with his knees bent and his empty palm thrust forward.

That was the easy part. The challenge lay ahead.

No easy day…

His two hands worked independently of his mind as he set the staff into a slow and then faster and visually impressive spin, bringing it to a stop close to his body beneath his arm, ending with a turn and a shout as he planted his foot.

He launched into the next portion, where five brothers surrounded him, all with staffs, and he fought each one in a demonstration.

After defeating each one in turn with different defensive and offensive moves designed to emulate the use of the staff in actual battle, he was alone again.

Ignoring the fear of failure inside him, he set up the Monkey stick move and the next thing he knew, he was hovering on the staff. He held the move long enough for the applause then jumped down, bowed to the president and trotted to the edge of the room to toss his staff aside.

The entirety of the two dozen performers closed out the show, and he took his place among them, happily one of many again.

They ended the show and then, thankfully this part was done.

How it seemed bigger and more stressful than the actual assignment—that of saving the Uyghurs and Wei—was surreal. Then again, his whole life had taken a turn for the crazy so he shouldn’t be surprised.

The brothers celebrated the success of the show with a level of chatter he wasn’t accustomed to but it served perfectly to distract the others as he snuck back out of the room.

He couldn’t go back out to where they’d performed, but maybe he could sneak around to a back entrance, one the serving staff used, and get a visual from there.

He’d entered a hallway loud with the clatter of dishes and pots and chatter of the voices.

It seemed like he was heading the right direction when a shout quickly muffled had the fine hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.

He took off at a dead run in the direction of the ruckus. It took only seconds for him to reach the scene at which point he stopped dead—indecision freezing him in place.

Wei struggled while held between two men completely clad in black right down to full-coverage face masks. Were they Charley’s men? Were they someone else’s?

He decided he needed to find out.

“Stop!” he yelled as he barreled forward, taking out the guy on the right with a flying kick to the head and the one on the left with a palm to the nose.

As the two stumbled back, he grabbed Wei by the arm and pulled him behind him.

“Are you all right?” Kane realized he’d spoken in English and repeated the question in Mandarin.

Wei confirmed in a shaky voice he was okay.

He looked better than one of the men on the ground who was currently cradling his wrist. He’d landed badly after Kane’s kick. Good chance he’d sprained or broken the wrist in the fall.

“How badly are you hurt?” he asked, feeling guilty.

The downed man answered with a decidedly American, “What the hell?”

Shit. These two were most likely with Charley. Whether that meant they were really on the same side was up for debate since Charley still remained a mystery.

“Sorry. I didn’t know you were Charley’s guys. I still don’t.”

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