Participants:
| Scene Title | Shadow on Water, Part II |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Feng Daiyu contacts his supervisor and reports in. |
| Date | June 17, 2009 |
Brooklyn, Waterfront
The roaring hum of a V8 engine purrs into eventual silence as a gunmetal gray Audi rolls to a stop out front of a brick warehouse in Brooklyn. The driver's side door swings open with a click, letting glossy black shoes brush against concrete as the driver quietly steps out, straightening his dark suit jacket. Turning his back to the warehouse, eyes peer through rectangular sunglasses out over the waters of the East River, all while one hand quietly opens a slim cell phone and begins dialing a number from memory.
Bringing the phone to his ear, Feng Daiyu stares out at the reflection of the sun on the surface of the water as sea birds shriek and caw overhead. "Good afternoon, Director." He takes a few steps away from the car, one gloved hand pushing the door closed, carrying himself with a casual pace towards the parking meters at the edge of the boardwalk.
"I've confirmed that both Holden and Ruskin are alive, but the vast majority of Volken's operatives in the region seem to have died during the winter. Holden and Ruskin went rogue, turned on the Vanguard and Volken." Feng's hand moves down to his side, reaching for a slip of paper, unfolding it to look down at an address below the frames of his sunglasses, then folds the scrip of paper back up into his palm.
"No…" He turns his focus out to the water, "No, I haven't had a chance to speak with her yet on the matter." Stepping between two parking meters, Feng moves out onto the boardwalk, one hand tucked away into a pocket, posture relaxed for the first time in what feels like far too long; water always comforted him.
Turning his head, Feng's eyes settle on a sailboat winding its way up the river, cutting through the yellow-gold rays of sunlight as they filter between the jagged vertical bars of skyscrapers that have fallen down into Midtown like so many toppled dominoes. "I'm going to speak to Flint Deckard again, he was remarkably deceptive about Holden. I've also spotted Mu-Quian Zhang on Staten Island, I'm not certain if she's aware of her husband's death yet, or if their child is here." There's a pause, one followed by a nod of understanding, "Of course, family is a strong motivator, sir."
Managing a faint sigh, Feng inclines his head with another nod that no one but he can see, a force of habit so deeply ingrained in his mannerisms. "Of course, Sir. I'll keep you posted the moment I find something substantial." After a long pause of silence, punctuated by the sounding of a tugboat horn out on the water, Feng folds the phone closed and pitches it into the East River with a quiet plunk as it hits the water.
His shielded eyes turn back to the sun's reflection on the river, and the tiny shadows cast by each ripple and wave. To those shadows, Feng feels sympathy; they are as transient as he is.