“Hey, Vicky. Yeah, it’s me.”
“How did you find me?”
“Freya, Ms. Nilsson, called me. Said you’ve been asking for me.”
“Yes.” She sat up, then, realizing she was naked, gathered the bedding around her chest and held it close. “Yes, they won’t let me leave. They said Chris is dead, and that it was me who shot him. And that after the first creature, they made another one, and it’s attached to me. Kelly, what’s going on?”
As Victoria’s excitement grew, so did the vigor of Wak’s swimming within its aquatic prison.
Kelly kept the strange animal in his peripheral vision but didn’t allow his focus to break from Victoria. He rested a hand on one of her bed sheet-covered legs and spoke as calmly as he could. “It’s a long story, Vicky. What’s the last thing you remember?”
“We ... we ...” She frowned, trying to dredge up memories from deep within her psyche. “We had collected something from the bottom of the ocean—some kind of round, gelatinous thing. We were brought back to America. To a military base by Ms. Nilsson and the big black man.”
“Tremaine.”
“Yes, him. They showed us a large creature, a huge amphibian thing like the one sitting in the tank over there.” She pointed at Wak without making eye contact with it. “They told us it was a clone of some ancient species, and ... and that it ...” She grasped at the air close to her neck, searching for the crucifix that had once hung there.
“And its species had brought humans from savagery to civility,” Kelly said, finishing her sentence.
“I was angry. I remember running, but the rest is a blur. They say I shot Chris.” Her voice broke, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“That’s not strictly true,” Kelly began. “It wasn’t your fault. You were very angry, yes. You took a gun and ran to the aquarium—you wanted to shoot the animal, shoot K’in.”
“K’in.” She sniffed and nodded.
“You never got the chance. Before you could pull the trigger, the place was attacked. In the explosions, you fell and accidentally fired the gun when you hit the ground.” Kelly cleared his throat. “The stray bullet must have ricocheted off something before it hit Chris.”
Victoria burst into full-blown sobbing, burying her face in the sheets that were clutched in her hands.
“Vicky, it’s okay. It wasn’t your fault. It was more than a year ago.”
She sniffed hard. “A year?” Her voice seemed harsh and angry now.
Wak began swirling again.
“Yeah. We tried to escape the attack in a truck, but they chased us and blew the shit out of us with a missile. I was taken hostage with K’in. When I was rescued, I was told you hadn’t made it. I only found out a couple days ago you were still alive.”
“You all left me for dead.” Her voice rose another octave.
“No.” Kelly pulled his hand from her leg. Shit, here she goes. “No, I told you I was captured. The truck was totaled. Everyone thought you’d been killed.”
The expression on Victoria’s face relaxed. Kelly heaved a sigh of relief.
“Then what happened, Kelly? What’s been going on for the last year? Why don’t I remember anything?”
Kelly proceeded to recount his adventure. How it had been a rogue faction of the Green and Red Societies—a Chinese cult—that had attacked them at Paradise Ranch. How the cult had released a hemorrhagic fever virus into America to kill thousands of people. How, after their truck had been destroyed, he and K’in had been captured by the cult and taken prisoner in a submarine. Freya had mounted a rescue and flown them to safety in Peru.
After some moments of contemplation, Victoria said, “Where is K’in now?”
Kelly sighed. “He died.”
“He?”
“Okay, it. Whatever. K’in is dead.”
She stared at him. “How? What? How did it die? Did you kill it?”
“No, no, no.” Kelly waved his hands as if to wash himself of the responsibility. “We didn’t stay in Peru long. At the time, we figured maybe we should finish what the General had started.”
“What did he start?”
“This is all backwards. Let me start again.” Kelly shook his head in frustration. “The General was scared. What you and I pulled from the South China Sea allowed humans to communicate with K’in. It was an orb, made of, well, fuck knows. It looked like Jell-O. Anyway, the General and the professor had decided such power should not sit with any particular country’s military. So, his plan was to release the knowledge of K’in’s existence to the world. He knew it would cause chaos. He—they—believed after the chaos, K’in would be able to once again bring peace like his species did before.” He rolled his eyes. “Saying it out loud, it sounds pretty stupid.”
She nodded vigorously. “Yes, it does.”
“Anyway, things were crazy. There was the virus, the Chinese were after us, and the U.S. Government was after us too, since the General’s little plan had been, let’s say, not endorsed by the powers that be.”
“So, what happened?”
“We left Peru. We stuck K’in in a submarine with Tremaine and the General to keep him—it—safe while Freya and I flew to Egypt. We were looking for another orb—to perhaps create peace.”
“You, Kelly Graham, went on a hunt around the world for some kind of voodoo item to save mankind?”
“Yeah, forgot you know me so well—or knew me. Things change.”
“For her?”
“Her who?” Kelly asked, feigning ignorance.
“You know who. The military woman.”
“Freya? No, not really.” Perhaps. “Anyway, from there, we ended up trekking round half the frickin’ world looking for an orb. Through Egypt, India, and Russia, where we were finally getting somewhere and thought we’d found something that could help us, but the Chinese guys caught up with us. There was a gunfight and K’in was killed, protecting Freya.”
“It protected a human? That animal? Why?”
“Long story. The big fish wasn’t as bad as you think. Anyway, that was like a year ago. But it seems the Secretary of state has been attempting to put an end to the cloning program.”
“But it wasn’t the end?”
“No. It would seem a parallel program was running. And while our General, perhaps misguided, was attempting to solve the world’s issues, someone else was trying to create an army of some kind.” Kelly waved behind him at Wak.
“I knew it. I knew it.”
“I’m sure you did, Vicky. But right now, we gotta figure out what to do with you and ... that.”
“They told me they used it to help me—to save me.” She shuddered and rubbed her own arms.
“I don’t know how they did it, Vicky. I’m no scientist. I was just told you were badly injured—very badly. One guy said you lost one of your arms.”
Victoria pulled her hands from her chest and nervously inspected her arms. “Lost one?”
“The animals can regrow limbs. They used cells from that thing to help you—to replace your limbs and repair damaged skin and organs.” He softened his voice as if the gentle tone would somehow mask the painful truth.
“But I don’t want it in me, Kelly. Take it out.” She sobbed. “Take it out.”
Kelly quickly put his arms around her and pulled her close to his chest. “I know, Vicky, I know. I’m gonna try and help you. I don’t know how yet, but I will.”
“I have dreams, you know,” she whispered. “I see things—strange things. And I can feel it, Kelly. The creature, I feel it in my head, in my heart. It wants to leave—to escape—so badly. It hates it here.”
“I know,” he soothed, rocking her gently. “I know what you mean. It was the same for me with K’in.”
Victoria pulled away to look him in the eyes. “Really?”
He nodded. “Really. K’in had quite a hold on me. In a weird way, I kinda miss him.”
“Him?” Victoria’s expression soured. “It’s a thing. And I want this thing ou
t of my head. Out, Kelly.”
“Hey, I know. I’ll find a way, okay? I will. Let me go talk to these guys. I’ll see what I can do.” Kelly brushed the hair from her forehead again. “In the meantime, you do something with this mop you call a hairdo.”
For a moment, Victoria forgot her predicament and was embarrassed by her appearance. “Sure.” She sniffed, then grabbed a thick length of her hair and started braiding it.
Kelly winked and headed to the door.
* * *
Freya was waiting in the other room, pacing back and forth. It had been a long time since she’d last seen Kelly, yet it seemed like yesterday. All those feelings and the closeness that had been forming a year ago all rushed back, clouding her thoughts and judgment. After Siberia, she’d put herself out on a limb and asked him to stay, but he was never going to. The stubborn jerk wouldn’t admit he felt anything. But she’d thought making the first move would make it easier. It didn’t. He’d shot her down and ran away to some stupid little village or island in the middle of nowhere—such a child.
She shook her head in determination. She didn’t have time for this. Where the hell was he, anyway? He’d been in there with Victoria for hours. Freya stormed toward the door but was cut short as Kelly bowled out first.
“Kelly ...”
“Hey.”
An uncomfortable silence.
“Did you get anywhere with her?”
“Kind of. She’s pretty messed up. You know how much she detested K’in. The whole theory of his kind violates everything she believes in. And you guys went and pumped her full of it.” He slumped on a nearby metal chair and rubbed his face in frustration, exhaling loudly.
“I know. I never said it was right.” Freya took the seat next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. Damn, why did she feel the need to mend this man?
“All she wants is to be rid of it. Is there a way?”
Freya shook her head. “It doesn’t work like that. She’s got the creature’s DNA within her. It’s not just the arm. And it seems to be spreading, rewriting code. We’re not really sure what the deal is. But to help her, we need cooperation. She’s got a direct link to Wak, too. We know she can feel it, but she’s not talking.”
Kelly sighed. “She did mention that. She can feel it. Said it wants to leave—that it needs to escape.”
“Did she say where it wants to go? Or is it just a desire to escape?”
“No idea.” He shrugged. “She needs rest right now. I’ll talk to her again later, see if she can tell me more.”
“Okay.”
“I tell you one thing. She ain’t gonna be happy about this thing being stuck in her. I gotta give her something—perhaps we can break the bond between her and it at least?”
Freya thought for a moment. “It’s possible, I guess. Distance worked for you and K’in. Perhaps it will work for her, too.”
“Maybe, but her bond is different. We should speak with the Doc and find out if there’s any danger.”
Freya nodded. “Makes sense.”
Location: Chicago, Illinois, USA
The black sedan slid along the highway, leaving Chicago airport, and headed into the city. Massive and densely packed glass buildings cut across the perfectly blue sky. Each pane reflected the building next to it until no individual structure was discernible. Instead, a mosaic of windows on a colossal scale lay before the Shan Chu.
The engine was barely audible over the clamor of his thoughts. Try as he might to channel his energy, he knew what lay ahead was going to be difficult, and it preyed on his mind. The Triads’ similarity and ancient allegiance were not going to work in his favor here. They didn’t function like that. They were not like the western Mafia. There was no ultimate father figure. Each Triad faction was autonomous and had its own profit and loss account. And did not, under any circumstances, answer to another faction. This was their main failing—something they could have learned from the westerners. They could embrace their common and noble heritage and become an unstoppable force on the planet.
Both the Triads and the Green and Red Societies had been born of an initial uprising against the tyranny of the Manchu Emperor in the Qing Dynasty almost three hundred years ago. The resistance force was known as the Tian Di Hui, the Heaven and Earth Society. However, as it had spread through China over time, the group had splintered and become known under several names. The San He Hui, the Three Harmonies Society, had been referred to as Triads by the stupid British authorities in Hong Kong. It had stuck.
Another faction had been the Red and Green Society. They had been more intelligent—more cunning than their San He Hui brothers. With the help of overseas Chinese and the Japanese imperial families, they’d managed to overthrow the last emperor and install Sun Yat Sen in his place. The Shan Chu clenched his jaw with anger at the thought their success had been in vain. The war with the communists in Shanghai some seventy years ago had driven them underground again.
So, the San He Hui pranced around in the public eye, flaunting their criminal activity and their decadence—the fools. The 14K were the largest San He Hui in the world, and the sub-faction of Chicago had grown particularly powerful. Their main sources of revenue—drugs, money laundering, and illegal alien smuggling—had enabled them to assemble a large army, much larger than was typical for these thugs. And now, their spawn, the second-generation gangs, were clumsily making their deals on the streets—idiots.
In the shadows, the Green and Red Societies had been plotting—and infiltrating. Yes, some of the members had involved themselves with the San He Hui, but many members had been at the very highest levels of the Chinese Government—until recently. Minister Li had fucked that up and put his moral beliefs ahead of the greater cause, killing Chairman Xi and stopping the Societies from taking the creature from the Americans.
The creature was theirs. They had found it in the first place, and the Americans had stolen it. But he would succeed. He would take the power and use it to unite the Triads, the San He Hui, and the Green and Red Societies all over the world—to destroy the Americans, the white supremacists.
The trick would be taking control of the 14K to start with. It was their lack of loyalty he planned to use. Frequently, members of one faction would leave for another that seemed more prosperous. Greed would be what he wielded—greed and fear.
The car rolled to a stop, interrupting his boiling anger. He breathed slowly, channeling his emotion into the task at hand. Take control of the Chicago 14K and then all of the 14K sub-factions.
There was a brief click and the door swung open. The Shan Chu stepped out into the brisk Chicago air. He pulled his overcoat collar up around his neck and slipped on his tailored leather gloves.
As he glanced around, his nostrils flared in disapproval. They were at some run-down building in the heart of Chinatown. Despite their power, the high-profile arrest and imprisonment in Macau of Wan Kuok-koi, the Dragon Head, had resulted in factions all over the world lowering their public profile. Perhaps this was a good thing, but it was no excuse for such disgusting abodes.
A short, stocky man, his demeanor shrewd and careful, approached him. He bowed briefly to the Shan Chu.
“Of course. The Straw Sandal. The liaison.”
The man seemed startled that the Shan Chu had chosen to speak English.
“We are in America, are we not, Straw Sandal?” continued the Shan Chu, sensing the man’s confusion.
He nodded. “Yes, Shan Chu. You have had a long journey. You must wish to rest.”
“No,” the Shan Chu said. “I only wish to speak with Wan Kuok-Lóng. Now.”
“Shan Chu, I beg your indulgence, but your visit is unexpected, and we are not prepared. We have many issues we must attend to first. Local business is our first priority.” He smiled, though it was more threatening than placating.
“Local business,” the Shan Chu replied, nodding. “Fair enough.”
In a single movement, he pulled his razor-sharp machete from under his coat
and sliced off the man’s arm at the elbow. Blood sprayed the concrete sidewalk, and the air filled with a curdling scream as the man fell to his knees, clasping the severed stump.
“I would call this local and quite the priority, wouldn’t you, Straw Sandal?” He almost laughed at the end of his sentence.
The whimpering man scurried off into the decrepit building, leaving a trail of red behind him. The Shan Chu waited patiently—nonchalantly—brushing dust and lint from his coat.
Moments later, a much rounder man appeared, his face contorted in anger. His blue suit stretched across his stomach, barely able to stay buttoned. “Move inside,” he shouted.
“Gladly,” the Shan Chu replied. He signaled to his driver, to stay where he was.
Once inside, the rotund man stomped off down a corridor and into a large room that had been fitted out like an office, though the decor appeared to be mock-Chinese—an American reproduction of what the westerners believed China looked like. A desk of deep red wood sat in the middle of the room, set against a backdrop of ancient-looking sepia-colored oriental paintings that covered the entire back wall. A random room-separating piece, completely superfluous due to the fact it was just wooden latticework and, thus, didn’t separate anything, was plonked a few feet from the desk. A lone lamp, its base forged to resemble a Ming vase, adorned the monstrous bureau.
“You have become a parody. You are not San He Hui. You are Triads—American Hollywood stage props. Look at you. You are even fat like an American. You disgust me,” the Shan Chu said, waving his arms about the room, pointing at the gaudy furniture.
The fat man slumped into the chair behind his desk. “Who do you think you are? You may associate with high society in China, but you have no power here. This is America, and here, I hold all the cards.”
“This is America, but you don’t hold all the cards. You control a small part of one city. You play second fiddle to the Italians. You are nothing, Wan Kuok-Lóng. You are fat, old, and lazy, and there is more to be taken.” The Shan Chu sat in the chair on the opposite side of the desk, purposefully provoking the man.
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