Meet Phoenix. Marcia King-Gamble

      I knew I was alive because there was an acrid smell in my nostrils. I felt hands under my armpits pulling me from the vehicle. I was laid on my back looking up at a darkening sky alive with pyrotechnics. There was a buzz of conversation around me and the bitter taste of smoke in my mouth. My entire body burned.

      Memory came back in vivid Technicolor. I had tossed a man out of his car and wrecked it. What was I thinking? I would need to make good on that somehow. Was that even possible? A huge adrenaline rush forced me into a seated position. I needed to find the man and make amends. Strong arms pushed me back onto the sidewalk and foreign words filled my ears.

      In the distance, sirens wailed followed by more popping and loud explosions. Flames spiraled sky-high as people dived for cover. Now I was alone, left to claw my way through mass hysteria, bitter smoke making me choke. The vehicle I’d been in just minutes ago was engulfed in flames and so were several others. I hoped there were no humans inside.

      Sick to my stomach, I fought the stream of traffic and retraced my steps, looking for the government building that I’d fled earlier.

      My chest felt constricted and my lungs hurt. I passed injured people, and tripped over those way beyond help. I hit a wall of crying, screaming human bodies that police struggled to hold back. Those that still breathed life were being shoveled into the backs of ambulances. Only a charred column of the government building remained. I’d been lucky to get out.

      I looked up at the spiraling smoke in disbelief and tuned out the popping and hissing. The skeletonlike building reminded me of a spent sparkler at the culmination of the Fourth of July. But this was not Independence Day and I was far away from the good old U.S. of A. The building I had just been in and had been driving near—had been bombed. Looked like those threats were true.

      I was surrounded by shocked faces coated in gray-and-white film. For the first time in a long while I did not feel in control of my life. I stood there praying that the obnoxious project manager, the Minister of Religion and Culture and even the vapid secretary had been spared.

      Life, sweet life. I breathed in and out, long and deep.

      A voice I recognized filtered through the madness. “Madam,” Xiong Jing said, tapping me on the arm. “There you are. Are you okay?! I have a hired car. I’ll take you back to your hotel.”

      I hadn’t thought it was possible to be this happy to see anyone in my life. I could have easily hugged him.

      Turning away from the sight that was destined to haunt me for the rest of my life, I followed Xiong Jing to a side street where several parked cars waited.

      I wanted to kiss the sidewalk and give praise to Damon’s Buddha.

      Chapter 4

      “We’ve been invited to tea at Madeline Wong’s,” I said, the moment Althea picked up the phone. We’d spent the last day or so confined at the hotel and I was bored. We were still at the Himalaya Hotel and I was going out of my mind. The bombing of the government building and the destruction of the properties around had thrown everyone into a tizzy. I considered myself lucky, having escaped with some minor cuts and bruises. “Think you’re up for it?”

      Althea’s laughter pealed through the earpiece. “Girl, if it means getting out of this room, the answer is a resounding yes.”

      “Good. Madeline’s invited all of us to her home.”

      “That was nice of her. Is this some fancy dress-up occasion?”

      “Just look decent. She’s the fabulous woman who’s my benefactor and who helped me land this assignment. A car’s being sent for us. Can you be ready in an hour?”

      “Absolutely.”

      It turned out being inside the SUV—and the air bag—actually saved me from severe bodily harm. The brick building I hit was near the government office building I had just been in. And the bomb went off right when I lost control of the SUV.