Free Lion by Jeff Stone Page B

digitally record them on cameras mounted on your helmets. I’d planned to ride alongside you with a camera on my helmet, too; however, I’m not sure I can get my road cycle in working order by tomorrow. The frame is cracked, and it’s aluminum. I’d ride one of my mountain cycles, but they’re too slow.”
    “I can fix it,” Hú Dié said, “as long as you have the right welding rod and enough amperage.”
    “I was hoping you’d say that,” Peter said with a grin. “You’re sure you can do it?”
    “Positive,” Hú Dié said.
    “Fantastic,” Peter said. “Let’s finish these shakes and get to work.”
    “You want us to assemble our bikes?” I asked.
    “No,” Hú Dié said. “I will do it while I am waiting for the welds to cool. You should relax.”
    “Yes,” Peter said. “You and Phoenix are going to have to leave the garage now, anyway. I only have two welding shields, and the light from the welder will fry your eyeballs.”
    “Got it,” I said.
    “May I use your phone?” Phoenix asked. “I should call my grandfather.”
    “Of course!” Peter replied. “How foolish of me. I should have asked you earlier if you needed to use it. Feel freeto call whomever, whenever. You too, Hú Dié, including China.”
    “Thank you,” she said. “I will call later because of the time difference. My father will be sleeping now.”
    Peter nodded. “Ryan, have you called your mother yet?”
    I shook my head. “I forgot to turn my cell phone on after the flight.”
    “You are so dead,” Peter said.
    “I’m on it,” I said. “Come on, Phoenix. I’ll show you where the phone is.”
    I called my mom from Peter’s back porch. It overlooked the neighborhood below and the ocean beyond. It was spectacular. Plus, I could keep an eye out for Jake, who was somewhere inside. I didn’t want him to hear any more talk about dragon bone, if the topic should come up.
    My mom gave me a hard time for not having called her sooner, but she laid off me once I told her about my abdominal cramping and my wrecking Peter’s handcycle. She gave me the typical mom-speech about being more careful, and I hung up, promising to keep her posted about my stomach and dragon bone in general. She was beginning to worry, and so was I. According to Uncle Tí and Phoenix’s grandfather, I should have been seeing more improvements by now.
    I went back inside and saw that Phoenix was still on the phone, so I went to find Jake. He was on the foldout couch in the guest bedroom, playing a video game on his tablet.
    “What’s up?” I asked.
    Jake didn’t reply. He was probably too busy with his game. I grabbed my tablet and flopped onto the guest bed.
    I logged on to the Internet and decided to do a little surfing. I typed DRAGON BONE into my search engine, and to my surprise, I got a hit. I tilted my tablet so that Jake couldn’t see it, and I hit the link. It was an online news article from a San Francisco Chinatown community newspaper.
    S AN F RANCISCO , CA—C HINATOWN . A Chinese man was found dead of unknown causes yesterday in San Francisco’s world-famous Chinatown. He has not been identified, but sources close to the investigation speculate that he is a member of one of China’s notorious crime syndicates. Distinctive tattoos connect him with a particular sect of black-market operatives known for distributing medicinal contraband such as tiger and bear gallbladders, which are highly prized by certain traditional Chinese herbalists and apothecaries. Law enforcement officials disclosed that this individual was last seen the previous evening in multiple Chinatown apothecary shops inquiring about a little-known substance called dragon bone. Dragon bone is a legendary powder purportedly ground from the fossilized bones of dragons, though the medicinal benefits appear to have been forgotten over time. Anyone with information about this incident or dragon bone is urged to contact authorities immediately.
    I swallowed hard and hit