Dangerous Journey Read Online Free

“emergency in the family,” and when he didn’t return after three weeks, his fellow Peace Corpsmen had become concerned. Rumors persisted of his having been sighted elsewhere on the island, but a search had turned up no trace of him. He had disappeared.
    C.J. had been confident that, once she got to Sarawak she would straighten everything out. After all, nothing ever happened to her or Alan that was either interesting or worth worrying about.
    Not until she arrived at the small village on the edge of a frightening, mysterious jungle did she face up to the grim possibilities of what might have happened.
    Alan’s tiny room hadn’t been touched since he left. C.J. searched his belongings for some clue to his whereabouts, but everything seemed to be there except for his passport. Other identification papers were neatly placed in a drawer. She took them out and put them in her purse. There were no pictures. She found nothing else, until she began rummaging in a large can that doubled as a wastebasket. There, amidst some candy bar wrappers were tiny scraps of paper. She scooped them up and placed them on the desk, fitting the pieces together like a jigsaw puzzle, and then taping them. She studied the result and wondered what its significance could be.
    “Luchow,” “HK,” and “Bai-loong” were written in Roman letters, and beneath them were two Chinese characters. No one in Bir Sakan knew the meaning of the note.
    C.J. stayed in the village one more day talking to people and poking about in Alan’s belongings. After that, she flew back to Singapore to go to the American Consulate. She introduced herself, explained that she needed a translator, and was led to the office of a Chinese gentleman.
    “Can you tell me the meaning of ‘Luchow,’ ‘HK,’ and ‘Bai-loong’?” she asked, wasting not one second on pleasantries or small talk.
    The man looked at her curiously. “Well. . .“ He hesitated, as if considering the possibilities. “In this part of the world, ‘HK’ means only one thing—Hong Kong, the British Crown Colony. And Luchow is a small town in the New Territories portion of the Crown Colony, near the border with the People’s Republic of China.”
    C.J. nodded, her fingers tapping her lips in thought. A town on the Chinese border…so that explained Luchow and HK. But what about the other word? “What does ‘Bai-loong’ mean to you?” she asked.
    He shook his head and appeared perplexed.
    “Here.” She took Alan’s paper with the Chinese characters from her wallet and handed it to him. “Maybe this will help.”
     His brow furrowed with concentration as he glanced at the paper. “It says ‘white dragon.’”
    “What does that mean?”
    With a shrug, he handed the paper back to her, his face expressionless once again. “Who knows? It might be nothing more than the name of a restaurant. I’m sorry, Miss Perkins.”
    At that he bowed and turned back to his desk; the interview had ended. Irritated, C.J. marched out of the office. A restaurant indeed!
    Standing outside the consulate, she pondered her options and made a decision. She caught a taxi to the airport and booked passage on the next available flight to Hong Kong.
    When she arrived at Hong Kong’s Kai Tak International Airport, she was physically and emotionally exhausted. Her task seemed increasingly hopeless. She stumbled from the plane into a taxi and asked to be taken to the nearest cheap hotel.
    The next day, she rented a car and began a week’s worth of frustration. Again and again she was given the same answer. On Hong Kong Island, on Kowloon, in Luchow. From the police, from the immigration authorities, from both American and Malaysian consulates. No matter where or to whom she spoke, she received the same response: We know nothing of your brother.
    She had lost all hope until the arrival of the arrogant stranger she had “rescued” from the clutches of the border patrol—the man who was now sleeping peacefully