Red Dragons

by K W Frost

  ‘Certainly… I’m sorry, but I didn’t catch your name?’

  Child smiled to himself at the word games. The real bad guys already knew his real name, but Child played along.

  ‘That’s all right — I’m Ben Prost. What should I call you?’

  ‘My name is James Clarke, Ben. Is it okay to call you Ben?’

  ‘Fine by me, James,’ replied Child.

  ‘Now, I’m not sure how much you know about computers, but my missing board is about ten centimetres wide and twenty centimetres long. It has a green backing board with several unusual components among the normal memory bits and resistors. Does this sound familiar?’

  ‘It sounds about right. You see, I don’t know much about this type of technical stuff.’

  ‘Well, perhaps you can tell me where you found it and see if that matches with my travels?’

  ‘Oh, that’s easy. I found it on the road outside my place up in Leigh. Have you been up this way recently?’

  The bad guys knew where Child lived, so why not tell the truth.

  ‘Yes, well, I looked at buying some property up there about ten days ago, so it’s possible I mislaid it there. I’d like to have a look at it, if that’s okay with you? This way I could tell you straight away if it’s mine or not. If it is, I’d be willing to pay a reward for its safe return. You see it comes from a new type of electronic game and it’s a very competitive market out there, so I’d like it back as quickly as possible. Indeed, I was relieved when I saw your ad, as I thought the board had gone for good.’

  Child had been thinking furiously as the seemingly innocent conversation had been taking place. He wondered who was fooling who? Now the man calling himself James Clarke had set the bait to organise a meeting. This was exactly what Child wanted, so he rose to the bait, but he did so very cautiously, as he didn’t want to get caught in his own trap.

  ‘I could mail it down to you if you like? I presume you’re in Auckland somewhere.’

  ‘Thank you for the thought, but it’s rather important that I get this board back as soon as possible. Perhaps if you could tell me where you are, I could send someone up to get it?’ Whittingham said, some urgency showing in his voice.

  Child paused. He wasn’t sure if a meeting at his home would achieve what he wanted.

  ‘Look, James, I’ve got to come down to Auckland later today, perhaps I could drop it off to you? That way you could check it straight away, and if it’s not yours then I can take it back again.’

  ‘Sounds good to me, Ben,’ replied Whittingham. ‘Umm… let’s see. Do you know the downtown shopping complex?’

  ‘Yeah, I know where that is.’

  ‘Opposite the shopping centre and towards the wharves is a cafe bar called O’Malley’s. I can meet you there any time that suits you.’

  ‘I’ll find it. How about 7pm? I’ll be finished with business by then and will probably need a beer.’

  ‘7pm is fine. Just ask at the bar and they’ll be able to point me out to you, okay?’

  ‘Sounds good, I’ll see you there at 7pm.’

  ‘I’ll be there, bye.’

  Child hung up the phone slowly and sat in deep thought for long time. He went over the conversation again in his mind. He accurately recalled every word and he knew from the mannerisms in the speech that most of what he had just been told was a lie.

  Child’s intuitive abilities were well developed because of his dealings with reticent teenage students. His intuition seldom let him down. Child also knew that he must attend the meeting and see what developed from it, as it was the only way to get the answers he wanted. However, he would need to take some precautions.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Whittingham disconnected his cellphone and slowly placed it on his desk. Was the man he had just talked to as simple as he sounded, or playing a much deeper game? The false name was an obvious lie, yet it made sense that he lived in Leigh. Whittingham had made his fortune in understanding the opposition and knowing where their weaknesses lay, and he decided to treat Ben Prost very carefully indeed.

  He consulted his electronic address book and found the name he wanted: Cecil Smith. Next to that was the pseudonym that he always used when he made contact: William. Cecil was an expatriate Pom who was the perfect nobody. His face was instantly forgettable — in fact, people had forgotten that he was even in the same room as them. Cecil was to get to O’Malley’s half an hour early. He would tell the bartender that he was James Clarke, and then have a drink and wait for ‘Ben’ to arrive. He was then to get to Ben to follow him out of O’Malley’s and head straight down the Port Road. By the time they reached the end, he would be taken from his company. Cecil was also to make sure that they were not followed.

  Whittingham’s next call, using another pseudonym, was to Black Power headquarters. He arranged to have some muscle available for 7pm that evening. Whittingham was working alone, going over the figures for the upcoming takeover of a computer manufacturing company. It was 2pm when his cellphone buzzed.

  ‘Japan here. Can you talk?’

  Whittingham recognised the voice even though some Europeans found it hard to distinguish between Asian accents.

  ‘Yes. I’m alone.’

  ‘How is the situation?’

  ‘Everything is under control. Possession of component is expected tonight.’

  ‘Expected!’ Ishida’s voice rose noticeably higher. ‘You cannot guarantee?’

  ‘No, I cannot guarantee.’

  Whittingham was rigid in his chair, his face beginning to sweat. This deal with Japan was his biggest venture yet and he didn’t want anything to spoil it. However, he knew better than to hide the truth from the people from Japan.

  ‘There must be no complications. I will send another shipment by special courier. You can expect a personal delivery within two days. The courier will have my full authority and I will expect full cooperation. There will be no loose ends on your part. You will take personal responsibility for making sure that there are none. Potential problems will need to be eliminated. Do I make myself clear?’

  Ishida’s voice conveyed a hardness and menace that made Whittingham wonder if he had been too hasty to agree to this deal. There was no backing out now. He knew too much. He had done too much for this deal to fall through.

  ‘Yes, I understand fully. There will be no loose ends,’ Whittingham replied, his voice was surprisingly calm.

  In the office over looking the Hong Kong harbour, Ishida turned to Kioki. He was already looking to see how he could turn this into an advantage.

  ‘It seems that you will need to take a journey. In some ways it will be good to have a personal representative on the ground, so to speak. I don’t trust Whittingham — he is weak and may break under pressure. He is a potential problem that may need to be removed.’

  ‘My going to New Zealand was always going to happen,’ replied Kioki. ‘We have too much happening there now to handle all the organisation from afar. I am merely going sooner than expected. There was always some risk sending in the final component via Whittingham, but we wanted him to commit fully in case we needed leverage over him in the future.’

  Kioki paused to take a drink of water from the cooled jug on the table.

  ‘I will carry the spare components. The Dang Experiment requires some

  personal touches to work fully. Don’t worry about Whittingham, he doesn’t know enough to harm us. I will make sure that he understands his position fully, and if required I will eliminate him.’

  Ishida walked over to the window and looked out through the haze towards Kowloon. His mind was even further a field, on mainland China.

  ‘I have this office swept every day for listening devices, our security is as thorough as possible. But sometimes I wonder — do they really know the full ramifications of what Dang will mean?’

  Kioki rose up from the lounge and walked softly, without a sound, considering his bulk, to stand by Ishida.

  ‘Don’t worry, my friend,�
� he said quietly. ‘The second fork of the dragon is ours alone. We will be the ones prepared when the second fork is revealed.’

  Kiwi 34 C sat alone in the darkened room, the door shut to stop interruptions. Putting down the cellphone that she had used to record the conversation of Child making the arrangements for the meeting, she pondered about what she should do next.

  34 C Kiwi knew that this meeting was vital in establishing the next link in an all-important chain. Dialing the cell phone, Kiwi quickly established contact with Eagle One. After replaying the taped conversation to them, Kiwi added that both a listening bug and homing device had been placed in Child’s cellphone. There should be no problems following him and listening to every conversation he had with the aim of ultimately protecting him if anything should go wrong.

  Kiwi’s last request was to be kept informed as developments progressed.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Child picked up the fake component board from Wardell’s house on the way down to Auckland. He didn’t think that he was likely to get into too much trouble. If worst came worst, he would give them the board and they would still need to test it to make sure it was working, and that would take time.

  O’Malley’s was one of many typically Irish pubs that had sprung up all over the world. It had a polished wooden bar along one side of the room, with bar stools in front of it. Dark green and brown suede leather dominated the colour scheme. A signed Irish rugby jersey took pride of place on one wall, next to the All Black, Scottish and South African jerseys. Flags dotted the walls and the Corrs sang quietly in the background.

  Child had arrived at 6pm and settled down with a beer at a table in a corner. He wanted to get a feel for the place before ‘James Clarke’ arrived. The clientele was typical for the area and no one stood out as being different. It was not the sort of place that you would find gang members, so Child relaxed and casually assessed each new individual as they arrived.

  Child saw Cecil Smith arrive but didn’t pay him much attention until the bar tender pointed over towards Child, and Smith walked over towards him. Smith was a little perturbed, as he had planned to be there before Prost arrived. He walked over to Child’s table.

  ‘Ben Prost?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Child, rising from his chair and shaking Smith’s hand.

  ‘James Clarke, pleased to meet you,’ said Smith. ‘May I?’ he asked, gesturing to an empty seat at the table.

  ‘Certainly, James, do take a seat,’ said Child politely, sitting himself down.

  This was not the man Child had spoken to over the phone. The accent was different, nor did he have the demeanour or the vitality of the original caller. This man was playing a role. But then again, so was Child. An uneasy silence hung between the two men.

  With a glance at his watch, Smith was first to break the ice.

  ‘Well, Mr Prost, did you bring the computer board with you? I’d like to see it if possible,’ said Smith in a cool tone.

  ‘It’s where I can get it, quick enough.’

  ‘Good, good… you see, I’ll need to take it back to my office to check it.’

  ‘That’s okay, I guess,’ answered Child.

  Child wasn’t sure where this conversation was going. He wanted to meet the man he had talked to over the phone: the real boss behind the drug ring. He wasn’t going to give up anything before he did. When neither man made a next move, another uneasy silence settled.

  Child broke the silence this time.

  ‘Well, let’s go then Mr Clarke, shall we?’

  Child’s emphasis on the name clearly labeled his disbelief at Smith’s truthfulness. Child reckoned that ‘James Clarke’ was going to lead him to the real thing.

  Not able to hold Child’s gaze any longer, Smith glanced at his watch again. It was time. He was relieved that his job with Prost was soon going to be over. Prost made him uncomfortable and uneasy, as if he knew what was really happening.

  ‘Yes, let’s get his over with so we can all go home,’ Smith said, standing up to lead the way out of the bar.

  The two men walked out of O’Malley’s and into the gathering night.

  Eagle One turned to Eagle Two.

  ‘He’s on the move.’

  ‘It’s alright, I have him on a visual,’ replied Eagle Two, raising his tele-zoom camera. He took three photographs of Child and Smith. Eagle two turned to Harrison.

  ‘You don’t recognise him, do you?’ he asked.

  ‘No, but with those photos we’ll soon get a positive ID if he’s on fi1e.’

  From three cars down the street, another pair of interested eyes watched the pair come out of the bar.

  Harrison started the rental van that he had been supplied with. It had NZTS written on the side, but inside was converted into a surveillance vehicle. Harrison let the van idle as Child and Spencer walked quietly done the street.

  Smith’s confidence grew as he casually directed Child down the street.

  ‘Do you have any hobbies, Mr Prost?’ he asked, seemingly casual. ‘I’m rather partial to a spot of sailing when I can find the time. Perhaps you would care to come out on the yacht sometime?’

  ‘Why not,’ replied Child, well aware that he would never take up the offer, ‘Perhaps we could go for a scuba dive together,’ he added, smiling.

  ‘Not really something I’ve done myself, but you never know… one day I might try it.’

  Smith paused as they reached the corner.

  ‘We can take this shortcut back to the office,’ he said, gesturing down a small one-way alley.

  Child had no option but to follow him. Half way down the alley, a van came around the far corner and accelerated towards them. Spencer stopped walking and stood to one side to let the van pass. Child followed suit, but his warning bells were beginning to ring.

  Suddenly, the back doors of the van opened.

  Inside sat two men holding sawn off shotguns, their black leather jackets and dirty jeans betrayed their gang affiliation. Child recognised them instantly.

  ‘Well, we meet again, old nosy parker,’ snarled the wiry bikie. ‘Get in.’

  Child paused, trying to think through his options. There were none. He was trapped. Before he could make any further decisions, he felt a heavy push from behind and he stumbled into the van’s door. Two strong arms quickly grabbed him and threw him into the back of the van. With a thump, the doors slammed behind Child. The other bike pressed a shotgun to his chest. Child didn’t move. The van sped away down the narrow alleyway.

  Smith headed back to the main road. His job was done.

  Child lay still in the back of the van, trying to stay calm. He soon became disorientated as the van did several sharp turns, and with the noise of the city outside it was hard to distinguish anything in particular.

  After ten minutes of driving, the van came to a stop and Child heard the sound of closing warehouse doors outside.

  Chapter Twenty

  Eagle One turned onto the waterfront street, the tracking device inside Child’s phone was indicating clearly now. Even through the warehouse walls they could easily hear the bug planted on Child. All three occupants in the van listened carefully, tapes rolled. Eagle Two prepared two wider range transmitters, knowing that this could be a key to tracking down the participants involved.

  The van doors swung open. Child was hauled out and pushed forward. The largest bikie stood next to the van, shotgun ready.

  The smell of the sea mixed with old oil invaded Child’s nose. He was still in the downtown waterfront area. He looked around but the big warehouse appeared to be empty apart from the vague shape of a car in the gloom. Suddenly, the headlights were switched on, blinding him.

  ‘What the hell’s going on?’ yelled Child, lowering his head to protect his eyes.

  ‘The little game is over, Child,’ said Whittingham calmly, who now stood next to his car, ’I want my computer board back now. Give it to me.’

  The softness of his voice was more frightening than any loud threa
ts.

  ‘I don’t have it here,’ said Child. ‘I’m only going to deal with James Clarke, we made a deal — I was to get paid if it was the right one.’

  Child tried to think of a way out of this mess. This wasn’t how he planned it at all. He had to find an edge somewhere. If they thought that he didn’t really understand the significance of the board then he might have a chance.

  ‘I’m Clarke you idiot. Where is the board?’ Whittingham’s voice hardly rose as he repeated his demand. ‘You will be paid if it is the right one.’

  Whittingham thought that he had overestimated Child, as it seemed that he was only after money. Japan had said no loose ends, so this one would have to be closed off.

  ‘Come out where I can see you,’ said Child, ‘I don’t like doing business with someone that I can’t see.’

  ‘You don’t have a choice this time. Search him,’ demanded Whittingham.

  Whittingham was taking no chances. He wanted to get the board back and then dispose of Child before the people from Japan arrived in New Zealand.

  Snake, the thinnest gang member, walked up from behind Child.

  ‘You heard, spread out those arms,’ he grunted.

  Child was tempted to belt Snake one, just to relieve some inner aggression, but he was conscious of the shotgun behind him. He resisted that temptation, and meekly held his arms out wide. Snake padded down Child’s jacket and quickly found the dummy board.

  ‘Is this it?’ asked Snake with a grimace.

  Snake turned and walked towards Whittingham, who took a slight step forwards, bringing himself half into the light. Child saw the expensive shoes, businessman suit and tie. His neatly combed hair silhouetted a shadowy face. The man was quite tall and slim. Outwardly, he looked like the typical accountant. Child knew there must be something different about this one to run with the mob.

  ‘Seems like you brought it with you after all,’ said Whittingham with a wry smile. ‘Good, this means the plan will be on schedule after all. Thank you for being most cooperative, Mr Child. Frankly, I’m a bit disappointed — my impression was that you would’ve shown more resistance. I expected that some sort of persuasion would be needed to get this.’