Weep, Moscow, Weep

by Gar Wilson

  The heel of his shoe crashed into the jaw, breaking the hinge at the left side of the mandible. The Chinese released his staff and stumbled backward. He flapped his arms weakly like a wounded bird. The man uttered a moan and fell unconscious.

  The other stickman snarled with rage as he swung his weapon in a sweeping move at the roof of the taxi. Trent jumped down from the car to avoid the attack and landed on the other side of the vehicle, away from his enraged opponent. The Chinese suddenly tossed his staff aside and stooped to pick up something from the pavement. He smiled as he held the Colt Commander that Trent had dropped during the battle.

  "Wang-pu-tan!" the Chinese growled as he circled around the taxi in a wide arc, keeping well out of the range of his opponent's weighted chain.

  Trent had already guessed what the Chinese had found and scrambled to the rear of the cab. The Asian hastily fired the big pistol. A .45 slug shattered glass from a back door window. The Chinese had not had much experience with firearms, and the hefty recoil of the .45 caliber pistol startled him. His arm rose with the kick. He awkwardly grabbed the weapon with both hands, hoping to get a better, steadier grip.

  Trent kept his head down as he removed a metsubushi from his jacket pocket. A ninja "sight remover," the metsubushi was simply a hollowed-out egg filled with flash powder and black pepper. He held the egg in his left hand and opened a leather pouch on his belt with his right, drawing two shaken throwing stars from the sheath.

  The Chinese moved toward the rear of the taxi. Trent hurled the metsubushi at his opponent's position. The Asian fired the Commander at the blurred shape of Trent's arm, but the ninja had hastily ducked behind the frame of the automobile. A bullet shattered glass from another rear window of the taxi. Shards fell near Trent's position.

  The metsubushi exploded on impact. A brilliant flash of white light and a small cloud of stinging black pepper rose into the face of the startled Chinese. He uttered a sound that resembled a half-choked scream. Trent immediately rose and hurled a shaken at his opponent.

  Sharp steel points struck the Chinese in the side of the skull near his left eye. A metal tip pierced the sphenoid bone. Trent threw the other steel star. The shaken struck the guy in the neck and punctured the carotid artery. The Chinese hit man was dead before he hit the pavement.

  Silence followed. McCarter and Trent glanced about, searching for more opponents, but they had finished off the last of the hit team. Dozens of voices chattered beyond the alley. Spectators had wisely stayed clear of the battlefield, and no one wanted to get closer in case the fighting was not finished. Sirens wailed as police cars headed for the site.

  Hsin Li had pulled his door shut and had probably barricaded it. The hustler had no intentions of sticking his neck out for anyone. McCarter imagined that Hsin Li was probably crouched behind a sofa with his Sterling subgun in his fists, trembling in terror. I hope the authorities question him the Briton thought sourly.

  "You all right, mate?" McCarter asked Trent as he returned his Browning to shoulder leather.

  "A few bruises, but nothing broken," the ninja replied, retrieving his Colt Commander from the lifeless hand of a dead Chinese. "I'd say we certainly got a reaction from someone."

  "Yeah," the Briton agreed. "Bloody well like to know why."

  12

  "You can't be shooting down people in broad daylight in Hong Kong!" Colonel Hunntington-Smythe declared. "This isn't Dodge City, for Christ's sake!"

  "My men acted in self-defense," Yakov Katzenelenbogen replied, seated across from Hunntington-Smythe in the man's office at the headquarters of the Security Intelligence Services. "What did you expect them to do?"

  "Hell," Hunntington-Smythe sighed. "I don't know. The chief of police was on the phone. He's very upset about what happened. Five men were killed, Mr. Gray. The police want answers. They don't care much for us keeping secrets from them."

  "Maybe we can share some information with them," Katz suggested. "We could use some help from the police when we check out Lung Harbor."

  "Are you sure the Englishman's contact is telling the truth about the place being a Black Serpent Tong operation?" Crane, the CIA agent, asked as he slumped into a chair. He had removed his jacket to reveal a shoulder holster rig with an S&W .357 Magnum revolver sheathed under his left arm. "Could be he set up your boys for the hit men."

  "That wouldn't make much sense," Katz answered. "The fellow is a criminal, or at least he has connections with criminals who wouldn't want to deal with him if they knew the police might be nosing about where he lives. Hsin Li wouldn't have arranged the hit to happen right outside his own door."

  "But how did TRIO find out about us?" Major Alekseyev wondered as he poured himself a cup of tea. 'Their intelligence must be far better than we realized."

  "Or we've got a security leak big enough to sail a battleship through," Crane suggested, lighting a cigarette.

  "I wouldn't be surprised if we have a security leak," Captain Zhdanov commented. "KGB, CIA, SIS and whoever Gray and his people are. It would be remarkable if we didn't have security leaks. We're enemies and we're openly sharing information that should be top secret. I still don't understand this."

  "Any time you want to return to Mother Russia, pal," Crane remarked. "Go ahead. I don't like fuckin' around with you commies anyway."

  "I don't care for working with you people either," Zhdanov said crossly. "Why is the CIA even involved in this business? It started as a KGB operation..."

  "Yeah," Crane growled. "Because you guys were turning out biochemical weapons that got out of hand. What the hell are you doing here? Haven't you Russkies caused enough trouble already?"

  "The KGB has been cooperative with us," Katz stated. "And they alerted us to the VL-800 threat in the beginning. We've been trying to work together on this mission. After all, if TRIO wins, we all lose."

  Kauo Yvet-sang entered the office. Colonel Hunntington-Smythe's aide placed a folder on his commander's desk. "The results of the analysis of the drugs used in the hypo darts the ambushers fired at our friends," he announced.

  "I don't have time to read this," Hunntington-Smythe complained. "Was it tranquilizers or poison? Did they intend to capture those two or kill them?"

  "Tranquilizer," Kauo Yvet-sang answered. "Phenobarbital mixed with some other chemicals and water."

  "So the tong intended to kidnap them," Alekseyev mused.

  "Except they weren't tong," Rafael Encizo announced as he appeared in the doorway. "I just came from the SIS computer identification and information section. Three of the dead men have been positively identified as members of SAD — the Social Affairs Department."

  "That's Chinese intelligence," Hunntington-Smythe said in a stunned voice. "Communist Chinese intelligence!"

  "That's right," Encizo said with a nod. "And two of the assailants have been identified as members of the diplomatic corps of the People's Republic of China. They were attached to the Chinese embassy right here in Victoria."

  "Oh, no," the SIS colonel groaned. "There's going to be an international stink."

  "Were the diplomats among the dead or the living?" Kauo Yvet-sang inquired.

  "One's dead and the other is having his jaw wired together so we can interrogate him," Encizo answered as he moved to the teapot. "Don't you have any coffee?"

  "This is terrible," Hunntington-Smythe muttered.

  "It's not that bad," the Cuban assured him. "I'll drink tea if I have to."

  "Damn it," the SIS officer snapped. "Hong Kong has established vital relations with the People's Republic. Do you realize how important it is that we keep a good rapport with mainland China? They're going to own Hong Kong in eleven years!"

  "Own it?" Zhdanov raised his eyebrows.

  "A slight exaggeration," Hunntington-Smythe admitted, "but only slight. The British signed a lease with the Chinese Imperial government for Hong Kong back in 1898. The lease is up in 1997, and Hong Kong will revert to Chinese sovereignty."

  "We'll have to get used to
being the Hong Kong Special Administrative Region of China," Kauo Yvet-sang added. "That will be our new title when the change occurs."

  "That doesn't mean Hong Kong will become a Communist puppet," Crane explained. "That is, if the Red Chinese keep their word according to the agreement between England and China."

  "What agreement is that?" Zhdanov inquired.

  "In 1984," Hunntington-Smythe began, "China and Great Britain agreed to terms for Hong Kong's future. The Chinese will assume responsibilities for defense and foreign affairs, but Hong Kong is supposed to retain its own economic, social and legal systems."

  "For at least fifty years," Kauo Yvet-sang added, "according to the agreement."

  "We Russians had some agreements with the Chinese, too," Alekseyev commented. "Don't count on them keeping their word."

  "The ChiComs have improved a lot since Mao died," Crane remarked as he ground out his cigarette in a glass ashtray. "We're hoping they'll adopt more capitalistic traits until communism becomes as dead as the Ming Dynasty."

  "China is still a long way from that," Katz stated. "Peking still enforces government control of just about everything. Then again, so do a number of non-Communist governments. We must discover how the Chinese intelligence organization is involved and why it tried to kidnap Nelson and Collins," Katz stated, thinking of McCarter and Trent's close call.

  "Do you think we can get the Chinese prisoners to answer those questions?" Alekseyev asked.

  "This isn't the Soviet Union," Hunntington-Smythe said sharply. "You Russians aren't going to use any crude torture tactics here."

  "I didn't suggest that," the KGB major replied. "But we might use scopolamine or some other truth serum."

  "Won't do any good," Calvin James announced as he entered the room. "I came from the clinic. We finished wiring broken bones and stitchin' up cuts on those two dudes who survived their run-in with Nelson and Collins. Truth serum won't work on them."

  "How can you be sure?" Zhdanov demanded. The KGB captain was a racist, and he put little stock in what the black man had to say.

  "When the Chinese were sedated so we could operate," James began, "they started to yak away about their names and what they did for the government. One guy was still trying to talk with a busted jaw."

  "Did you get the information?" Kauo Yvet-sang asked, confused about James's previous remark.

  "Why bother?" the black commando said with a shrug. "It's all bullshit. Those dudes have obviously gone through special training under hypnosis that programs the subconscious to relay a cover story if they're subjected to any kind of sedative or truth serum."

  "You're a hypnotist," Encizo said, recalling a previous mission when James had used this skill to get information from Iranian terrorists in Turkey. "Can you beat Peking's programming?"

  "I don't know," James confessed. "It'd take at least a week to break down subconscious training. Maybe longer. Maybe not at all. Whoever worked on those guys did a good job."

  "I'm not surprised," Katz commented. "The SAD is very efficient, perhaps the most underrated intelligence outfit in the world. The SAD is remarkably small, considering the huge population of mainland China, but they're very good at their job. The Chinese have always valued quality personnel more than quantity in intelligence."

  "The ChiComs who tried to grab your boys weren't so impressive," Crane remarked.

  "Kidnapping people isn't a regular part of intelligence," Katz replied. "You know that as well as I do, Mr. Crane. Besides, they didn't realize they were trying to capture a pair of tigers. If they had, they would have armed all their people with Bio-Inoculator pistols. Even then they probably wouldn't have succeeded. The Social Affairs Department is good, but my people are better."

  "I was in a firefight with Gray's team in Mongolia," Alekseyev remarked. "He's not bragging."

  "Well, if you blokes are so damn great," Hunntington-Smythe said crossly, "perhaps you can tell us what the hell we should do next. Your bloody President seems to think you can all walk on water. He's managed to convince the governor of Hong Kong to put you in charge of this mission. So what shall we do? Do you need to go up to a mountain and talk to God first or do you already have the answer?"

  "First we talk to the SAD and see what they have to say about this," Katz replied simply.

  "That's great," Crane said, shaking his head. "How the hell do we do that, your holiness?"

  "Contact the Chinese embassy," Encizo told him. "The fact that some of the men involved in the ambush were with the embassy proves the SAD has agents there. Besides, almost every major country has spies working out of embassies all over the world. Why should the Chinese be any different?"

  "Yeah," James added, "and you guys seem to forget that none of us committed a crime. The SAD sent agents to try to kidnap two of our buddies who responded to a violent threat in self-defense. The goddamn SAD has some explaining to do, not the other way around. Quit acting like wimps. We've got a valid complaint and a right to get some answers."

  "What if they don't care to give us any?" Kauo Yvet-sang inquired.

  "Then they'd better not fuck with us anymore or we'll send some more of their agents back to 'em in a box," James replied.

  "You sure there isn't any coffee?" Encizo asked hopefully.

  * * *

  Lo Hung-chin agreed to meet Katz, Colonel Hunntington-Smythe and Major Alekseyev in a public place in one hour. The security consultant for the Chinese embassy suggested the Lan Kao restaurant a few blocks from the embassy. The others agreed.

  The Phoenix Force commander, the SIS officer and the KGB agent rode to the meeting in a government limousine driven by Kauo Yvet-sang. The big car crept through the busy marketplace. Rickshas and bicycles comprised most of the traffic. Crowds filled the streets. Beggars and street merchants avoided the government vehicle. Some of the older Asians bowed their heads solemnly. Despite one hundred and fifty years of British influence, Hong Kong is still part of the Orient, and her people are largely Asian. English is the official language of Hong Kong, but Chinese is the tongue most of the citizens speak.

  Chinese culture is still the foundation of Hong Kong's people. Centuries of history, art and literature and the traditions of one of the oldest civilizations of the world still influence Hong Kong. Just as the people of mainland China regarded Mao Tse-tung as a sort of twentieth century version of an emperor, so the people of Hong Kong regarded government officials with a special brand of reverence. Some bow with respect; others bow because it is simply what one does in the presence of rulers. In ancient China, the lower classes were forbidden by law to raise their heads and look directly at anyone associated with the Royal House.

  The crowds were smaller as the limo approached Embassy Row. The columns of majestic embassy buildings surrounded by ornate fences and gates somehow suited a city called Victoria. The quiet, neat and orderly section of diplomacy was a stark contrast to the marketplace. Some referred to it as "terribly British." Most people who said this had spent little time in England and none at all in East London or Piccadilly Circus or Soho.

  The traffic was scarce, but the vehicles were worth noticing. Bentleys, Rolls-Royces, other limos, were the creatures of the road at Embassy Row. As the limo rolled past the Embassy of the People's Republic of China, a large black sedan emerged from a driveway and followed them. Katz grabbed a briefcase that contained an Uzi submachine gun with a folding stock. Alekseyev reached into his jacket, fingers touching the butt of his Makarov pistol.

  "Do you think this is trouble?" Colonel Hunntington-Smythe asked tensely.

  "Let's find out," Katz declared. "Pull over to the curb and stop."

  The SIS officer told Kauo Yvet-sang to follow the Israeli's instructions. He reluctantly obeyed. The colonel's aide reached under his seat and opened a compartment that contained a Sterling subgun...just in case. The sedan came to a halt behind them, and two Asians, dressed in suits, with sunglasses and straw hats emerged from the vehicle.

  "I am Lo Hung-chin," the e
lder of the pair announced. "I believe you gentlemen wish to speak with me."

  Hunntington-Smythe opened a door and slid out. "I thought we were supposed to meet at the restaurant, Mr. Lo."

  "This is more desirable," the SAD case officer stated, gesturing toward the sedan. "Shall we talk in my vehicle?"

  "That's hardly neutral ground," Katz stated, climbing from the limo.

  "There is a special radio transmitter in my car," Lo Hung-chin explained. "It produces a wavelength that scrambles other radio frequencies. Thus neither your people nor mine nor anyone else can listen to our conversation by electrical eavesdropping devices. The doors and frame are reinforced steel, making it most difficult for one to listen in with a... rifle microphone, I believe you call it."

  "And the windows are tinted glass to prevent anyone from looking in," Katz noticed.

  "To guard against lipreading by unfriendly agents of foreign governments," the Chinese said, smiling. "They are all around us, you know."

  "Nice private place for a murder, too," Alekseyev remarked.

  "Don't be absurd," Lo Hung-chin replied. "We would not kill anyone here. If we wanted you dead, we could have done it at the marketplace. Yes?"

  "Let's talk," Katz announced.

  Katz, Hunntington-Smythe and Alekseyev followed Lo Hung-chin to the sedan. The SAD agent's companion stood by the limo, watching Kauo Yvet-sang while the others climbed inside Lo's vehicle.

  "Straight to the point," Katz declared. "A team of SAD agents attacked two of my people. Why?"

  "They meant to capture your men," Lo Hung-chin replied, "not kill them. We wanted information. We wanted to learn more details about the VL-800 formula that was supposedly stolen last month."

  "How did you..." Alekseyev began. He stopped himself before he could complete the sentence.

  "The Soviets set up an installation in Mongolia near the Chinese border," Lo said with a shrug. "Does it surprise you that we took an interest in this and learned as many details as possible?"