Chapter Twelve
“I would rather maim than kill
Hurt than maim
Intimidate than hurt
Avoid than intimidate.”
—Poem from a Shaolin Temple
Yelin seated himself at the corner table Schenko and Igor already occupied in the crowded restaurant. It was just getting to be lunchtime and the close atmosphere of the restaurant swarmed with tourists and those who were obviously residents of the neighborhood. Yelin’s canine sense of smell picked up the scent of human sweat mingled with the smells of cooking meat and the smoke of Schenko’s cigarette. The noises of conversation in various Chinese dialects, English and other unidentifiable languages around them swarmed in his ears.
Yelin barely noticed any of it, concentrating his attention solely on Schenko’s tight features and the frenetic drags he
