Brink of Extinction | Book 1 | Sudden Impact

by Shupert, Derek

  I peered out to the open space before the building, scanning for any locals passing by.

  “Why don’t we take this inside and discuss matters,” I said. “We’re just needing some information is all. What happened with your men is on them. It didn’t have to go down that way. We’re both professionals, so let’s discuss business as civilized men. We do not wish to go to war with the Wu Ching gang.”

  I nodded at Jackal as I lowered my Glock in good faith. He hesitated at first, pursing his lips, then raising his eyebrows in protest. He kept the weapon up a second longer before following my lead.

  My finger stayed over the trigger of the Glock.

  The suit stood there looking at me. I was ready to jerk the Glock up at the drop of a dime if need be and go to war, but I hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

  “Give up the hardware, and we’ll head inside to discuss business. Otherwise, things are going to get messy right here,” he shot back.

  Jackal shook his head.

  I was hesitant to give up our weapons, but we needed answers.

  “Fine.” I flipped the Glock around in my hand, presenting the grip to the suit.

  Jackal sighed, then rolled his eyes. He gave up his Glock, and the bloody wrench that he had clutched in his other hand.

  The henchmen stripped me of my dagger and the other Glock I had secured behind my back. They fell in line behind us, and herded us toward the entrance of the restaurant.

  The suit glanced at the blood stains that tainted the stone beneath our feet, then looked up. “Get this mess cleaned up, now.”

  The two men lugging the dead bodies away bowed.

  “Follow me.” The suit led us inside the restaurant with his available minions following behind.

  I could feel Jackal’s eyes burrow into the side of my skull. He didn’t agree with my decision, but he went along with it just the same. It was a tactical call that I hoped wouldn’t bite us in the ass, seeing as having a wild west shoot out wouldn’t help anyone.

  The lights in the building were dim, but still strong enough for us to get a good layout of the joint. Chinese markings covered the walls along with half-moons and dragons that wrapped around the corners.

  I spotted light through the clear-plastic window embedded in the swinging gray door that led to the kitchen. Another door was fixed in the corner of the building.

  There were no other men that I could see, but that didn’t mean they weren’t close by.

  “How do you have power when all of the other buildings around are blacked out?” I asked the suit.

  “Generators,” he replied while keeping a steady stride. “Hard to run a business in the dark.”

  From the absence of people at the tables, I took his business to mean the other dealings the gang had their hands in.

  We walked around the large dining table, and went through a set of red swinging double doors that opened up into a spacious room. More henchmen lurked about the space, sitting at the tables spread throughout. They slouched in the chairs, conversing with one another. I counted maybe fifteen or so.

  An assortment of firearms sat on the tops of each table. Everything from Uzis to 9mm’s handguns. It was a smorgasbord of firepower.

  A dense cloud of smoke hung in the air from the vast amounts of cigarettes being puffed on, making it hard to breathe.

  The chatter among the Wu Ching gang silenced as we weaved through the tables toward the rear of the space. They sat up straight in the chairs, grabbing whatever weapon was within reach.

  I eyed each goon we passed, making a mental note of their size and what weapon they wielded.

  A cluster of men surrounded an older gentleman at the large dining table we were bearing down on. His face was long and wrinkled, and the skin under each eye sagged. Despite his appearance, his voice boomed like thunder and carried about the room.

  The suit stopped a few feet before the table, then bowed. Papers were spread out over the table top. He pointed at one that looked to be a map littered with red dots. He spoke Chinese to the older man who cut his eyes up to us. I didn’t follow what was being said.

  His men turned our way, then adjusted in the chairs they sat in. They released the shot glasses of dark-tinted liquor, and slipped their hands inside the black suits they wore. The remnants of half-smoked cigarettes dangled from thin lips as trails of smoke lifted from the fiery ends.

  An older man spoke in Chinese. His brows slanted inward, and his voice rose an octave. He lifted his hands in protest and continued shouting in Chinese.

  The suit continued to bow, then stood up straight. He stepped to the side, then turned toward Jackal and me. “I do apologize for the intrusion, sir, but–”

  “Are you Gao Lin?” I asked, interrupting the suit who looked at me with a furrowed brow.

  Another suit with slicked back black hair standing near us balled his fingers into a fist and advanced toward me.

  “Feng,” the old man said in a raised voice, stopping him dead in his tracks. The suit glanced at the older gentleman, then relaxed his tense posture. He cupped his hands together at his waist while staring me down. “I am. Who exactly are you?”

  “It’s unimportant who we are,” I answered. “We’re here on business at the request of our employer, and need your help tracking down a former associate of yours.”

  Gao sat back in his plush, red chair. His index finger and thumb rubbed against each other as he looked at us. His men remained calm, but kept their hands shoved inside their suits. “I’d be remiss if I did not say that I do not take kindly to strangers coming to my place and killing my men, then asking to conduct business. That’s not how things are done. You are either stupid or naïve thinking this was a smart move on your part.”

  I bowed before Gao. “My apologies on what happened to your men, but we needed a moment of your time. I had hoped they would’ve seen reason and at least reached out to you, but that did not happen.”

  Gao lounged in his chair. “Most people who know of the Wu Ching gang wouldn’t try such tactics for fear of the wrath that could slam down upon them. With that being said, I am intrigued as to what associate of mine has brought you to our doorstep, and possibly ended your lives.”

  Jackal shifted his weight. His body grew tense as he peered at the men staring at us.

  “My associate and I are looking for Cory Lawson,” I replied. “We have good reason to believe that he is heading here or has already made contact.”

  Gao shifted his backside in his chair, then looked over to Feng. “Why would Mr. Lawson be heading to my establishment, exactly? We’ve not had any dealings with him for many years now.”

  “We have it on good authority that he’s trying to procure a flight out of the state, and your name came up as a likely source for him to receive help in doing just that,” I answered. “Our employer is motivated to get his hands on Mr. Lawson, so we would be most appreciative of any help that you can provide.”

  Gao leaned forward, and placed his forearms on the table. His fingers intertwined as he nodded his head. “I hate to say that you have wasted your time coming here, but you have. If Mr. Lawson had reached out, requesting such a favor, I wouldn’t be inclined to tell either of you. That’s not how we conduct business. It’s not honorable.”

  I couldn’t tell if Gao was lying or not. He was hard to read. The subtle shift he made in his chair and the glance to Feng hinted he might be lying.

  The lights overhead flickered, then dimmed. A subtle buzzing noise loomed from the bulbs. The power waned, and appeared to be on the verge of going out.

  A plan gelled in my head to get the information we needed as some of his men flitted their gazes to the lights.

  I decided to take a different approach and inform Gao of how things could and would go for him if he didn’t answer our questions. “Mr. Lin, I can appreciate your loyalty and position, but I feel that I must inform you that withholding any vital information would only prove to threaten you and your business. I do not wish for thing
s to escalate, but they can and will if you don’t tell me what you know.”

  Gao’s lips pursed. His nostrils flared. His men circling the table glanced his way, waiting for his orders.

  He placed his hands flat on the table, then stood from his chair in a huff. He pointed his skeletal finger at my chest. “You come into my place of business, kill my men, then threaten me as if you are in a position to do so. Tell me, gweilo, who is this employer of yours who sent you to your deaths? I would like to know who they are so that I can mail your heads to them.”

  I didn’t twitch. Gao’s fingers balled into fists at my silence.

  He jerked his head to Feng, then tilted his head at me.

  Feng stepped forward, and threw a sharp jab. His fist clocked me in the side of my jaw. My head snapped to the side as I dropped to one knee.

  “Hey,” Jackal said in a shout, coming to my aid.

  The goons flanking Jackal trained their weapons at his back, halting any further movement.

  My jaw ached from the blow. A tooth felt loose. The tip of my tongue probed the molar. A thin stream of blood leaked from the corner of my mouth. I wiped it away with the back of my hand.

  I stood up. He struck me again in the same spot, knocking me hard to the ground. I fell flat on my stomach. Pain lanced through my jaw and radiated through my face. I squinted, then shook my head.

  Feng loomed over me like a juggernaut, ready to dish out more pain.

  I spat blood to the floor, then glanced up at him. I hoped he enjoyed his moment of imaginary power because the tide was about to change.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  SCARFACE

  The lights dimmed, casting the room in partial darkness. Gao slammed his fists on the table, then shouted in Chinese at his men.

  A portion of his men hurried from the room.

  Feng grabbed me by the collar of my jacket, and yanked me off the floor. He held me tight with his balled fist as the lights waned.

  “Get up, gweilo,” Feng said, sounding more like a beast than a man. He jerked at my coat as I struggled to get my knees under me.

  The lights died.

  Blinding darkness filled the space.

  I grabbed a handful of Feng’s tie and jerked down. He dropped to his knees in a blink, hitting the edge of the table with his head.

  My hand buried inside his coat, and retrieved one of the 9mm pistols secured in his shoulder holster. I got to my feet, shoved the sole of my shoe against his throat, and fired at the men who lined the table.

  Feng clawed at my pant leg in a half-hearted feeble attempt to escape out from under me. The blow from hitting the table had dazed him for the moment and affected him moving and fighting back.

  Fire spat from the muzzle.

  The flash framed the frantic men’s faces in horror. They rose from their chairs, pulling the hardware concealed inside their coats.

  My finger squeezed the trigger, popping off round after round at the scrambling men. Bodies dropped to the floor, and hit the table with dense thuds.

  Bullets looked like fire flies slicing through the blinding darkness. Stray rounds zipped past my head, causing me to duck.

  I felt a tug at my bicep, followed by a burning sensation that grew by the second. I gritted my teeth and continued firing.

  Grunting and yelling from behind me filled my ears between each report of the 9mm.

  The hammering sound of an Uzi battered my head, followed by loud screams in Chinese that soon filled the cavernous room.

  The silhouette of Gao cowering in his chair caught my eye as the lights grew brighter. A mess of blood covered the table from the multiple bodies slumped over the top.

  I trained the 9mm at Gao’s head. His hands and arms shook as he glanced up at me with a fearful gaze. Any men he had left at the table who could wield a weapon trained theirs at me.

  Feng grabbed my foot, trying to pry it from his throat. He tried to speak, but the words were nothing more than a garbled mess that couldn’t be understood.

  “Tell your men to lay down their arms right now,” I said, glancing at the two goons standing to the side of Gao with their Uzis fixed on my skull. They panted hard. Their chests heaved as they kept me locked in their sights.

  Gao glared at me. Fear had turned to rage as the old man pursed his lips. “I’m going to make sure you suffer for this. You will not be granted a quick death, but will feel every ounce of pain and agony that is coming your way.”

  An arm nudged me from behind.

  I kept the armed minions in my sight, then turned my head to the side.

  “You all right?” Jackal asked, winded.

  “About as good as could be expected,” I replied while eyeing Gao.

  “Next time, why don’t you fill me in on your plan, so I know what’s going on,” Jackal said.

  “I couldn’t. I had to improvise on the fly,” I replied.

  “Great,” Jackal shot back as he stepped away from me.

  “I’m not going to ask you again, old man. Order your men to drop their weapons now, or I’m going to place a slug in the middle of your forehead.”

  Gao grumbled under his breath, then yelled at his men in Chinese.

  The two goons near the Wu Ching gang leader lowered their Uzis, then tossed them to the table top. More weapons followed from the other men flanking me.

  “Perfect,” I said with a smirk. The side of my chin was wet with blood. I probed my puffy lip that was tender to the touch. “Your boy, Feng, has one hell of a punch. Haven’t had my bell rung like that in some time.”

  Gao muttered in Chinese. His voice grew louder. A scowl formed on his face.

  “As I said before, it was not my intent for things to go like this. What happened here is on you and your men. If you just give me what I need, we’ll be on our way. Simple as that and no one else has to die.” I stared down the enraged gang leader.

  “Go to hell, gweilo,” Gao replied in a sharp tone. “I’m not telling you shit.”

  “Hey. Watch our boy here on the ground, will ya?” I asked Jackal from over my shoulder.

  “Copy that.”

  I removed my shoe from Feng’s throat. He gasped for air, coughing and hacking as he rolled to his side.

  I moved around the outside of the table, stepping over the dead Chinese men as Jackal covered Feng and the others.

  Gao turned on his heels to face me as I approached.

  I placed the barrel flush against his forehead. “Tell me what I want to know right now, or I will kill you, old man.”

  The top of Feng’s head emerged from the edge of the table. His hair was a mess. A bruise was forming just above his brow. His hand vanished inside his jacket as he locked eyes with me.

  “I’d think twice about doing anything rash, unless you want your boss to gain another hole in his body.” I pressed the barrel harder into the old man’s skull. “Take the cannon out, and slide it across the table to me.”

  Feng glanced at Gao, who kept his hands raised in the air. He cut his eyes back to me while removing the other 9mm from his over the shoulder holster. He set it on the table, then shoved it toward me.

  Jackal stood off to the side of Feng with the Uzi trained at his head.

  “You’re running out of chances here, Gao. I’m on a strict timetable, and you’re throwing a kink into everything. Last time, has Mr. Lawson contacted you in any way, shape, or form.” Gao spoke in Chinese with a disgusted look on his face. I struck him in the face with the back of my hand holding the pistol. “English, Gao. I don’t speak Chinese.”

  Blood ran the length of his face from the open cut on his temple. His men flanking him flinched and reached for their weapons.

  I glanced around Gao at the goons and shook my head.

  Gao held his hand up, discouraging any further action. “Like I already told you, we have not had any contact with Mr. Lawson for years. I am confused as to why you think he’d be coming to me for any assistance. I would have no way of being able to provide him with acce
ss to a plane. I can assure you that we do not have that sort of relationship or capability at the moment.”

  I studied Gao’s face and body language. Aside from the pursed lips and tense posture, he kept his attention focused on me, and didn’t look away when speaking. That told me he wasn’t lying.

  “All right. Who else in LA has access to a plane that he could use?” I asked. “And before you say, ‘I don’t know,’ or speak in Chinese, just know that my patience has already worn thin, so tread with caution.”

  Gao took a moment to think. “There’s only one other person I’m aware of who Mr. Lawson has had dealings with in the area and who could provide a plane.”

  “And who is it?” I asked, waiting to hear the name.

  “Andrès Compos.” Gao leaned back on his heels and away from the pistol. “He’s got the connections to make it happen, and has also been known to use a private jet from time to time.”

  Andrès Compos. Andrès Compos.

  The name sounded familiar—one that I had seen in Lawson’s little-black book. It was worth checking into.

  “See. All there is to it,” I said, patting the side of Gao’s face. “That wasn’t so difficult now, was it?”

  Gao looked at me with contempt. He didn’t have to say anything for that to be known. He pointed in the direction of the entrance to the restaurant. “You got what you need. Now get out of my restaurant while you still can.”

  “With pleasure. Chinese food isn’t much my thing anyway.” I peered over at Jackal who stood near Feng. He had the muzzle of the Uzi mere inches from Feng’s chest as he watched the henchman like a hawk.

  “Just to make sure we remain friendly, here, why don’t you escort us out of the building. After all, that’s what a good host would do.” I grabbed Gao by the collar of his dark blue suit, and jerked him along. The barrel of the 9mm stayed glued to his head as we made our way around the table.

  “Back up.” Jackal jabbed the muzzle against Feng’s chest.

  Gao’s right-hand man kept his gaze focused on his boss as we made our way around the dead bodies on the floor.

  Jackal backed Feng up, putting as much distance between him and us as possible. Jackal retreated back to my side as we made for the double-swinging doors. “Here, I dug your dagger out from one of their pockets. Thought you might want it back.”