continued from: chapter III: Pillow Talk
It was close to midnight in Chengdu. But that didn’t make much difference to prisoner no.4534. For her there were no days or nights. Just two and a half meals which tasted exactly the same. Suddenly there was a loud buzz and the door to her cell was pulled back and she saw the silhouette of a large man ambling in. The door pulled shut again.
Prisoner no. 4534 was seated on the floor, hugging herself, trying to keep the cold out of her bones. The large man plodded across and sat down on her cot. She was looking away. She didn’t want to make eye contact, but she kept stealing quick glances. The man looked like some inept government official. Fat, balding and burly. There was a an aura of sweetness about him. He smiled almost constantly. A large flashy grin which swelled up his pink rosy cheeks and revealed his slightly discoloured teeth. His shirt, two sizes too small was stretched to its limit. A button was missing. There were ketchup stains on the cheap tie which was loosened around his ruffled collar.He was like your uncle, the one that keeps pulling chocolate pennies out of your ears at Christmas.
“Well well well” the man said, “aren't you pretty”
He reached out and held her chin with his forefinger and thumb and started turning her face towards him. She immediately jerked her head away.
“Ooooh. Fiesty!”, the man laughed. A boisterous, booming laugh. As if he had heard the best dirty joke ever. “I’m Mr. Chong. What’s your name little girl?”
She wouldn’t say.
“Fine then”, the man pressed on. He pulled out a brown folder from inside his coat.
“Nice to meet you Ms. Juan Lei. Age 19. Mother, died at childbirth. Father fought for the People’s Liberation Army. Marine Corps. Impressive. Honourably discharged after a crippling knee injury during training. Owned a drug store in Yangying county, northwest of Beijing. Coached martial arts part time. Was found beaten to death in his store. Only daughter, Juan Lei, aged 13 was missing.”
He licked his fingers and turned the page. Taking a deep breath he continued.
“Shen Wong, the son of a wealthy industrialist and his two friends, Hsien and Lok were questioned over the killing. But the investigation ran dry and the boys were released. Instead it was suspected that the missing daughter probably had something to do with it. Maybe an unkown boyfriend.” He looked up “So what was it? They were drunk? Maybe wanted some cough syrup? Paracetamol? Money? Did you see it?”
The girl sat unmoved. So the man flipped some pages and continued reading.
“Seven months ago. Shen Wong died under mysterious circumstances. He was working late at his office and Wong Industries on the 46th floor. When he was possibly drugged, tied to a computer chair and wheeled out through the glass window behind his desk. A few weeks later, his buddy Hsien was found. He had been pushed out of his car, while returning home after a few drinks at a friend’s place. His tie had been stuck to the door, as somebody had driven around for several minutes. All that was left was a ball of flesh really. They had to identify him from dental records. Lok, had been under investigation for drug trafficking. He was under constant police surveillance. One night, soon after Hsien, they heard a piercing scream coming from his posh hillside retreat. The detectives had rushed in to find him, electrocuted in his spa, and a tiny figure running into the shrubs. They had cordoned off the area and captured a teenage girl.But not before she critically wounded one of the officers in the process. And that’s it! Now she has been tried. For four murders including her father’s. They are still trying to make up their mind. The death sentence? Or worse.”
The fat man held the top of the girl’s head in his hand and slowly but determinedly turned her face towards him.
“There we go. Such a pretty face. Now. I need you . I need people like you. That’s my job. Finding people like you. You’ll work for me. You’ll do whatever I say.”
The girl spat on his face.
The fat man moved with a speed that she couldn’t have imagined. He struck her somewhere in her neck. She felt like she had swallowed a rock. She couldn’t breathe. She flailed her arms around clasped at her neck. Wheezing and heaving. Trying to breathe.
The man slowly wiped the spit off his face. The girl was turning quite blue.
“Don’t ever do that again”, he said, “now stop sighing like a whore. Relax. Let it go. Close your mouth, count to three and breathe in slowly through your nose.”
The girl listened. She fought with her instincts and breathed in the way he said. Her lungs filled with air. Her head started to clear.
“Now. Let me finish. In return for you coming into my employment, your criminal will be expunged. Complete and unconditional. But you must keep up your end of the bargain. Don’t worry. I’m not going to rape you. You’ll be my soldier. Your country’s soldier. Is that clear?”
The girl kept silent. He stood up.
“I’ll take that as a yes. Not like you have a choice anyway. Either way you’re dead. I’ll come get you tomorrow.”

The next morning the warden released a statement. Prisoner 4534, Juan Lei, had died overnight, possibly of cholera. To contain the disease, her body and cell contents had been incinerated immediately.
For the next 4 years she had trained vigorously. Martial arts. Killing with swords, guns or bare hands. Trained in manners and etiquette. The arts, languages, geography and history. She was part of an ultra secret strike team for the Chinese Secret Service. But a more true description would have been – assassin, saboteur and spy. Her first mission had been a debacle. A double cross. Two senior fellow agents were killed. But she had come back alive. All objectives complete. Ever since then she was identified as someone a little special. Over the years she went on over a hundred missions in the farthest corners of the world, doing things most of us only see in our nightmares. Becoming famous without even being known.
And then one day she had broken.
Something had changed. Something was lost. Or maybe found. She wanted out.
But there was no way out. There never would be. Mr. Chong had promised her that a long time ago. So she made her own arrangements. For almost a year.
Then one day, while in a mission in Spain, she was gone. Vanished.
Somewhere along the line, she had found Poison Bay. She had found a mild mannered stock broker called Jeremy Pritchard. And she had found her home. The perfect cover. For the rest of her life.
But she had never stopped looking behind her. The faintest sound in the night would wake her. Cars backfiring would startle her. In the Boisen Bay busport, in deposit box no. 4534 she kept a gym bag stuffed with notes in a dozen currencies, six passports and an address book with the details of some people worth knowing.

Because she knew it would happen one day. Mr. Chong would find her. The man who had given her the name that was nothing more than a curse.
Xi.