Mei’s clinic was tucked between a bakery and a pawn shop. The sign above her door flickered just enough to be annoying. Kai stared at it while Lian unlocked the metal gate.
“You ever think she chose this spot on purpose?” Kai asked. “Like camouflage through inconvenience.”
Lian shoved the gate upward. “She chose it because the rent was cheap.”
He laughed under his breath and followed her inside.
The clinic didn’t look like a clinic. More like a storage room that happened to have an exam table. Mei stood with her arms crossed, foot tapping in that way she did when she’d been awake too long.
“You two took your time,” she said.
Lian glanced at the wall clock. “It’s eight in the morning.”
“Exactly.” Mei moved past them and shut the blinds. “We don’t have much of a window.”
Kai raised a brow. “Window for what?”
“To see what I found before someone else does.”
She led them to the back room, where her desk was piled with medical reports, loose notes, and empty coffee cups. On her monitor was a screen full of shipment logs.
Kai squinted. “These are port entries.”
Mei nodded. “Cross-referenced with hospital procurement. Something didn’t add up, so I dug.”
Lian leaned closer. “Show us.”
Mei clicked through the logs. “Three months ago, a private biomedical supplier started sending ‘research-grade tissue preservative’ to six hospitals across Kowloon. But the quantities don’t match what any of them would normally use.”
Kai frowned. “Meaning they were buying way more than needed?”
“Not just more. Five times more. And none of the hospitals reported any ongoing research that required it.”
Lian folded her arms. “LSK front?”
Mei nodded once. “Probably.”
Kai rubbed his jaw. “This preservative… same glow as the coolant we saw last night?”
“The exact compound,” Mei said. “I ran a sample first thing this morning.”
Lian looked between them. “So the organs we burned were meant for one of these hospitals?”
“Or for something passing through them.”
Kai leaned on the desk. “Which one do we check first?”
Mei hesitated, then pointed to a name on the screen. “San Wah Private Clinic.”
Lian recognized it. “I drove past it last year. Looked abandoned.”
“Because it basically is,” Mei said. “No registered staff except one on-call surgeon who hasn’t logged hours in months.”
Kai raised an eyebrow. “A ghost clinic.”
Mei nodded. “With a very real supply chain.”
Lian pushed away from the desk. “We’ll scout it tonight.”
Kai let out a breath like he’d been holding it for hours. “Finally.”
Mei looked at him. “Don’t rush. If they’re moving organs through there, they’re not stupid.”
Kai shrugged. “Neither are we.”
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Mei shot him a look sharp enough to cut through his mood. “That’s not what worries me.”
They left the clinic around noon. The sun was harsh, bouncing off the pavement like shards of glass. Kai slipped on sunglasses. Lian didn’t bother.
He walked beside her, quiet.
“You’re thinking something,” she said.
“Just… the drum last night. How clean the cuts were.”
She knew where this was going. “Don’t.”
“I’m not saying it’s him,” Kai said quickly. “I just—those tags weren’t cheap. Someone had to authorize that.”
Lian kept her gaze ahead. “People with money can authorize anything.”
“Still.”
She stopped walking. “Kai. We don’t know anything yet. I’m not entertaining guesses.”
He nodded, but the crease in his brow stayed.
They spent the afternoon prepping. Kai ran network scans on the clinic while Lian checked weapons and packed light gear. They shared the small hotel room in practiced silence, moving around each other like two dancers who had memorized every step.
Around five, Kai shut his laptop. “Found their router. Basic firewall. No cameras posted online.”
“That means cameras offline or analog,” Lian said.
“Or none at all.”
She gave him a look.
He held up his hands. “I said ‘or.’ I didn’t say it was likely.”
Evening settled fast, draping the city in a dim yellow haze. They headed out through side streets and alley passages, avoiding main roads. The closer they got to San Wah Clinic, the quieter Hong Kong seemed. As if the city itself was holding its breath.
The clinic was smaller than Lian remembered. Peeling paint. Grey shutters pulled halfway down. A single light flicker inside. No people. No security.
Kai whispered, “It looks dead.”
“Which is why we’re going in slow.”
They circled to the back door. Kai checked the lock. “Old mechanical. I can pick it in thirty seconds.”
Lian scanned the alley. “Ten.”
He smirked. “If I break a pin, you’re buying new ones.”
“You break it, you pay for it.”
He started working, tools clicking softly.
When the lock popped, he stepped back. “After you.”
Inside, the air felt stale. Dust coated the counters. Cabinet doors hung slightly open, like someone left in a hurry.
Kai swept his light across the room. “This doesn’t look like an active lab.”
Lian walked ahead. “They don’t need a lab. Just a place to store things.”
They reached the hallway. Six doors. All closed.
Kai pointed to the far one. “Cold storage would be back there.”
Lian nodded. “Stay behind me.”
He didn’t argue.
She eased open the door. A rush of cold air hit them. The room was filled with industrial freezers, arranged neatly along the wall. Each one had a small digital panel glowing in the dim light.
Kai whispered, “These are new.”
Lian pressed a button on the nearest panel. The temperature readout blinked: 2°C.
She opened the freezer.
Empty.
Kai checked the next one. Also empty.
They moved down the row. All empty. All spotless.
Kai exhaled. “So the shipment didn’t come here.”
“Not yet,” Lian said. “Or it already left.”
She walked to the last freezer. This one was different. Older. Rust on the hinges. No digital panel.
Kai frowned. “That one doesn’t match.”
Lian grabbed the handle and pulled.
It didn’t open.
Kai tried too. “Jammed?”
She shook her head. “Locked.”
He knelt down and inspected the base. “Weird placement for a lock.”
“Open it.”
He got to work. This lock was better. He worked slower.
The moment it clicked, Lian reached for the handle.
Kai grabbed her wrist. “Wait.”
She paused. “Kai?”
He swallowed. “Just… be ready.”
“I am.”
She pulled.
The freezer door swung open. Cold vapor spilled out.
Inside was something wrapped in layers of plastic. Human-shaped.
Kai stepped closer, breath shaky. “Please tell me this is a mannequin.”
Lian peeled back the plastic.
The face beneath was pale. Eyes closed. Skin marred with surgical lines.
A young woman.
Mei’s age.
The breath left the room.
Kai whispered, “What the hell were they doing here?”
Lian didn’t answer. She couldn’t.
Because the woman wasn’t dead.
Her lips trembled.
Her chest rose.
Lian turned sharply. “Kai, call Mei. Now.”
And Kai was already sprinting into the hall, fingers shaking as he dialed.
