by Gar Wilson
10
The Soviet TU-144 airliner arrived at the international airport in Kowloon. Commercial aircraft from the Soviet Union were rarely seen in Hong Kong... and were not very welcome. Naturally Phoenix Force and the KGB had contacted the authorities in advance. A reception committee was waiting for the Aeroflot plane when it arrived a few minutes before noon, Hong Kong time.
Phoenix Force was still accompanied by John Trent and Major Alekseyev. Captain Yuri Zhdanov and Lieutenant Vladimir Savchenko were also assigned to the group. Since the two KGB officers had been working on the VL-800 investigation in Mongolia already, Colonel Pushkin had decided to send them to replace the slain Boris Abakumov and Professor Sudplatov. Zhdanov was less than happy about the assignment, but Savchenko seemed quite pleased to have an opportunity to visit Hong Kong.
The members of the reception committee were not very glad to see Phoenix Force and their Soviet companions. Hong Kong was a center of capitalism in the Far East, although it was positioned literally along the coast of mainland China. Although technically a British dependency, Hong Kong had a thriving economy that dealt in trade and commerce with the Western democracies and had recently established good relations with Communist China.
Naturally the Hong Kong authorities were not thrilled at the arrival of KGB agents in Kowloon. The Russians were supposed to be there for a mission that concerned the safety of the entire world. If the Soviets had not been accompanied by an elite team of professionals — although no one seemed certain what they were supposed to be professionals at — that had been given top-level clearance directly by the President of the United States, the Hong Kong officials would never have given the KGB permission to land in Kowloon.
"My name is Colonel Charles Hunntington-Smythe," a husky middle-aged man with a handlebar mustache announced as he coldly greeted the arrivals. "Hong Kong Security Intelligence Service."
Hunntington-Smythe's accent revealed a Cambridge education, although the Briton had been born and raised in Hong Kong. He was strongly dedicated to his homeland, and he took his job very seriously. Greeting KGB agents turned his stomach. He did not care much for a team of hotshot Yanks muscling into his jurisdiction either.
"This is Kauo Yvet-sang." Hunntington-Smythe indicated a wiry Asian dressed in a white linen suit and narrow houndstooth necktie. "He's my aide. A very good man."
"A pleasure to meet you," Major Alekseyev declared as he offered his hand to the SIS officer.
Hunntington-Smythe ignored it. "And this is Gerald Crane," he continued. "American CIA."
Crane nodded at the group. He was a tall blonde with broad shoulders and a V-shaped torso. He wore an expensive pastel jacket, a T-shirt and sunglasses. The guy looked like he was understudying Don Johnson of Miami Vice.
"Hey, Colonel," Crane began. "If we're gonna talk about the Company, let's do it someplace that isn't out in the open."
"What are you worried about, Crane?" Hunntington-Smythe asked dryly. "The KGB is right in front of us. If they can know who we are and what we do, who cares if the general population overhears anything?"
"We care," Katzenelenbogen told him. "Now let's get to a secure area."
The group moved from the runway and entered the airport. The building was crowded with Asians, Europeans, Arabs and Americans. Tourists and businessmen, military personnel and airline pilots mingled with the crowds. The airport was slightly busier than most, but Phoenix Force did not feel the enormous presence of Hong Kong's massive population until they reached the street.
Hundreds of people walked the streets. Hong Kong's 403 square miles was populated by more than five million people. After the miles of emptiness of Mongolia, the crowded streets of Kowloon were claustrophobic.
Hunntington-Smythe led the group to a tour bus parked at the curb. Phoenix Force, Trent and the three KGB officers had carried their gear off the plane; they had not had to clear customs. They loaded their bags into the bus and seated themselves. A Chinese driver with large buckteeth smiled and nodded at his passengers. He started the engine and pulled into the driveway. Within minutes they were creeping through a traffic jam that moved only slightly faster than a glacier.
"Well, isn't this a cozy bunch?" Crane began, fishing a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket. "CIA, SIS, KGB and whatever the hell you guys belong to. What are you? Some special branch of the National Security Agency? Didn't think those boys liked to get their hands dirty."
"We're just a bunch of dudes who hang around together and play cowboys and Indians with real guns," Calvin James said with a shrug. "We don't make a lot of money, but we sure have a lot of fun."
"Uh-huh," the CIA case officer grunted.
"I'd like to hear some explanations," Hunntington-Smythe declared. "So far, all I know is that the SIS has been ordered to cooperate with you chaps in every way possible. That is, with you fellows working for Washington. There's a limited amount of information I intend to share with the KGB. Frankly, I don't understand why you're working with the Soviets or what this mission is about."
"Something about a dangerous substance smuggled into Hong Kong. Correct?" Kauo Yvet-sang inquired. The SIS colonel's aide sounded as British as Hunntington-Smythe.
"That's a long story," Major Alekseyev said with a sigh.
"We've got time before we reach Victoria," Hunntington-Smythe replied. He turned to face Phoenix Force. "And I want to hear it from you. I have a problem trusting Soviet agents."
"The story started last month," Yakov Katzenelenbogen began, taking a pack of Camels from his pocket. "At a remote Soviet installation in Mongolia."
Katz had donned a different prosthesis device. This one had three hooks at the end of the "arm." The hooks functioned as fingers and could perform many of the tasks flesh-and-blood hands accomplish. Katz used the hooks to pull a cigarette from the Camel pack and raised it to his lips as he took his lighter from another pocket.
Phoenix Force had made another change when they had arrived in Hong Kong. Reluctantly the team had decided to remove the clear plastic masks they had worn since the mission had begun. They did not like showing their faces to the Russians, well aware that the KGB agents would memorize every detail of their features. However, circumstances made the masks too great a liability in Hong Kong.
Katz told Hunntington-Smythe and the others about the VL-800 formula and sketched in some general information about what had happened in Mongolia. He also explained how they had determined that TRIO had brought the deadly CBW chemicals to Hong Kong.
"Approximately twelve hours after the installation was attacked," Katz continued, "a ship sailed into the Yellow Sea. It had all the necessary papers and government permission to transport beef and wool from Mongolia to North Korea. It moved right along the edge of Korean waters, then it apparently vanished. The Koreans were told that it had been ordered back to the Soviet Union due to some administrative problem. Since the shipment of Mongolian goods was scheduled, and the skipper had made deliveries in the past, no one was terribly suspicious at first."
"However, the ship never returned to port," Alekseyev stated.
"Is that right, Mr. Gray?" Hunntington-Smythe inquired.
"It was abandoned," Katz answered. "The ship drifted to the coast of the People's Republic of China. Naturally the Chinese wanted more details about the vessel before they reported the incident to the Mongolians and the Soviets. They apparently took the ship apart looking for evidence of explosives, drugs, whatever. However, all they found was beef, wool and a bunch of empty cabins."
"What happened to the crew?" Crane asked. "And the VL-800?"
"We're fairly certain the crew boarded a South Korean fishing vessel that was in the area at the time," Katz explained. "The fishermen had been warned that they were getting too close to the Communists' zone, but they didn't seem concerned. Of course, the Soviets didn't suspect that the crew from the Mongol ship had gotten on board a Korean vessel. We wouldn't have known about it either if we hadn't compared information logged by the C
ommunist North Koreans and the pro-West South Koreans. We might never have found out if CIA, NSA, KGB and Korean intelligence forces on both sides hadn't contributed data."
"Then this same ship sailed to Hong Kong?" Hunntington-Smythe frowned.
"To Taiwan," Katz answered. "But it claimed to be a Japanese fishing vessel that had gone off course. It stopped in Changhua Harbor to repair its engine and get diesel fuel. The crew did all the work, and the Taiwanese confirmed that the members of the crew were Japanese... or at least the men they met were Japanese. However, it was noted that, while the ship was supposedly called the Mishima and flew a Japanese flag, the legend at the rear of the vessel was written in Korean."
"The Ch'orok Pit Mogyoil," Lieutenant Savchenko stated. "The Korean fishing vessel that we believe picked up the crew from the Mongol ship."
"And the stolen VL-800," Alekseyev added.
"The Mishima left Taiwan and headed southwest," Katz concluded. "That means they were headed for China, Vietnam, Kampuchea or Hong Kong. Only one place would make any sense for TRIO to use as a base of operations."
"So we should check for the Mishima?" Crane asked. "You know, hundreds of ships come into the seaports here every day. That job is gonna be a mother. Still, with the help of a computer we should be able to find out where the Mishima finally docked."
"Don't count on it being the Mishima any longer," Manning warned. "TRIO probably changed the name again. Since they have Chinese members as well as Japanese and Mongolians, they might claim the ship is Taiwanese."
"And knowing TRIO," David McCarter added, "the ship was probably scheduled to make a delivery or pickup. Don't count on them making any mistakes. That's not TRIO's style."
"My God," Hunntington-Smythe rasped. "This is like looking for a needle in a haystack. And a needle disguised as a piece of straw at that!"
"It isn't as hopeless as it seems," Encizo assured him. "After all, we've managed to track them here."
"You make it sound as if Hong Kong was some little hick town back in the States, Jose," Crane commented. "We've got more than five million regular citizens here, and that ain't including all the businessmen, bankers, and tourists who are here for a visit."
"Won't be easy," James said with a shrug. "But it won't be impossible either. New York City and Los Angeles have larger populations than all of Hong Kong put together, but you can still find dudes who try to hide there. It's all a matter of lookin' in the right places."
"New York or Los Angeles or Mexico City might have larger populations than Hong Kong," Hunntington-Smythe remarked, "but we've got the greatest density of population in the world."
He pointed at the rows of office buildings, skyscrapers and apartment houses that crammed the skyline. "If we were to drive in that direction about half a mile from here," the SIS colonel began, "we would arrive at the Mong Kok district. The population distribution is unbelievable — more than 650,000 people per square mile. People live on rooftops. It's said that 104 people were living in a single room when we had the housing crisis back in 1959. Don't think it's going to be easy finding individuals here."
"Gee whiz," James said with an exaggerated pout. "I guess we'll just have to give up and go home, huh? If you'd been listening, Colonel, you might have noticed I said it won't be easy, man."
"Excuse me," John Trent began. "I admit that I'm not as experienced in these matters as the rest of you gentlemen, but wouldn't it be logical to search for TRIO in much the same manner as one would search for any other sort of criminal?"
"So you suggest we contact the police?" Crane snorted. "Not such a great idea, fella. Our security will go right in the toilet if we do that."
"I suggest quite the opposite," Trent said, smiling. "I think we should contact some criminals. The competition always knows its rivals better than anyone else."
"You think we could ask one of the Triad to help us?" Hunntington-Smythe scoffed. "We're not talking about General Motors and Ford. These are criminal syndicates, my friend."
"But they regard themselves as businessmen," Trent insisted. "Gentlemen's agreements are made. This is my territory. That belongs to you. Don't cross me and I won't cross you. The Chinese tong learned a long time ago that it was advantageous to divide the power rather than fight over it. It's good business to avoid bloodshed even if it means the competition gets some business you might have had otherwise. Still, they're the competition. If they have problems, it doesn't bother you. Especially if their actions might hurt your own business. And you don't mind helping others who might cause more problems for the competition."
"Is this a theory, or do you know this shit works?" Crane asked sourly as he ground his cigarette under a shoe.
"It can work," Trent said with a nod.
He did not tell them that his Uncle Inoshiro, who had trained him to be a ninja, was currently living in San Francisco. Inoshiro was a subchief for a yakuza clan. Most of their activities were perfectly legal, but others were not. Inoshiro dealt in minor-league black market, bootleg videotapes and other petty but profitable crime. Trent had never gotten involved with yakuza operations, but he understood them very well. The yakuza and the tong had an understanding in San Francisco. Trent was unfamiliar with Hong Kong, but he knew that people were much the same anywhere in the world.
"I think I know a chap who might be able to help us," McCarter announced cheerfully. "That is, if he's still alive."
"Oh, God," Manning groaned. "Not another one of your friends in low places. I swear, you know the weirdest people in the strangest places..."
"But they usually turn out to be pretty reliable," McCarter said, grinning. "Don't they? Eccentric perhaps, but dependable."
"He has a point," Encizo commented.
"Yeah," Manning muttered, "at the top of his head."
"When do we meet this friend of yours?" Hunntington-Smythe inquired. He was surprised to discover McCarter was British. He wondered how many of the others were nationalities other than American. There might be hope for these bloody hotshots after all.
"You don't," McCarter replied. "My friend wouldn't care to have SIS or CIA or any other sort of copper poking into his business. He trusts me... at least he used to, but if I show up with all you blokes, he'll run like a fox with the hounds on his arse."
"You ought to take at least one man, just in case," Katz told him.
"I speak Chinese," Lieutenant Savchenko announced eagerly. "I might be quite an asset."
"No offense, mate," the Briton said. "But if I have to have just one fellow for backup, I'd prefer somebody I've worked with before."
"And somebody who isn't KGB?" Savchenko asked dryly.
"That, too," McCarter admitted. "I don't remember what the hell your cover name is..."
The Briton was looking at Trent.
"I think I'm supposed to be Collins," the American ninja replied with a shrug. "I'm the lucky choice to get to meet your friend?"
"You wouldn't feel that way if you'd ever met any of his friends before," Manning commented.
"What about you guys?" Trent asked.
"Who said we're his friends?" Manning answered.
"Yeah, man," James added with a grin. "We got our reputations to think of."
McCarter gave them instructions to do something of an obscene nature. Hunntington-Smythe rolled his eyes toward heaven. Any hope he had for this group seemed to be evaporating rapidly.
11
David McCarter had been in Hong Kong before, when he was with the Special Air Service. A gang of terrorists had been raising hell in Victoria and Kowloon. Every time the police had gotten near the radicals, cops had been killed, and the terrorists had gained new members from the street gangs of bullyboys who regarded crime as a way of life and murder as an act of courage.
Hong Kong is a British colony. The governor is appointed by Great Britain, but Hong Kong generally governs itself, with a forty-eight member legislative council, a six-teen-member executive council and a supreme court. However, it had been the governor
who had requested assistance from Britain to deal with the rising wave of terrorism.
The SAS was instructed to handle the task as quietly and covertly as possible. They had spent more than a year in Hong Kong hunting down terrorists. More often than not, the SAS had had to kill the bastards; survivors had been turned over to the authorities. The street gangs had seen that their super heroes were not so special after all. They had been disappointed and disillusioned, but most of them had continued their life of crime, simply transferring their hero worship to other hoodlums and sadists.
As far as the SAS had been concerned, the mission had gone quite well. It had taken a bit longer than they had first expected, but the results had been effective and not a single SAS trooper had been killed. Of course, the assignment had been very hush-hush. Only a handful of people had ever known about it, and that was exactly how the United Kingdom and Hong Kong had wanted it.
Hong Kong had not changed much since then. It had had a thriving economy when McCarter had been stationed there, and as far as he could tell, the only difference was an increase in the number of businesses and banking interests. There were more buildings, huge modern structures of concrete and steel. The most valuable real estate in the world was found in Hong Kong. A one-room apartment often rented for two thousand dollars a month. A small office building was worth millions.
"Hard to believe this island was just a haven for smugglers, pirates and opium merchants a hundred and forty-five years ago," McCarter remarked as he and Trent sat in the back seat of a taxi that worked its way through heavy traffic in the capital city of Victoria, a city that was usually referred to simply as Hong Kong.
"The world has changed everywhere," Trent replied. "Although this is incredible. Yet I wonder what effect this hectic pace and crushing population has on the people."
"The citizens of Hong Kong seem to take it in stride," the Briton stated. "Of course, they've evolved into sort of social hybrids. Britain acquired this property in 1898. Signed a lease with China for ninety-nine years. We've had ninety years to corrupt these folks with our Anglo-European concepts. The people of Hong Kong don't really consider themselves to be either Asians or Europeans. They tend to think they've got the best of both worlds."