Fallen Dynasties

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Fallen Dynasties Page 4

by Nick James

‘Bunny, that shooting worried me. I haven’t worked there that long, and I’ve nearly been killed twice.’

  She leaned across and wiped ketchup off my chin; some always gets there. ‘It’s the big city, hon, but I think all our bad luck is behind us now. It should be all smooth sailing,’ Bunny said, inviting God knows how much woe and trouble our way.

  ‘It’s not just that. If I had died, I would leave you penniless. I should get some life insurance,’ I said proudly, thinking how my grieving widow could spend the rest of her life wearing black and mourning by my graveside and refusing all suitors.

  ‘You have insurance, dickhead, you signed it last month. You’re worth more dead than alive,’ Bunny said. With a massive smile, she slapped me on the leg and walked off singing ‘(Don’t Fear) The Reaper’.

  ‘You’re kidding, right?’ I don’t remember doing that.

  ‘Don’t fear the reaper, Sammy,’ then gave a tinkling laugh.

  I’m so dead. ‘You’re kidding, right?!’

  Chapter 8

  Mai Lee

  Russia-China Border, Russian Side

  Three long days since my escape from China, and a text from my ex told me that the old boys of the Council of Five were pissed off to the extreme. He added that my family were being watched, but according to the old code they wouldn’t be touched, as the likelihood of me going back again after seeing them on my return to China was highly unlikely.

  I have been so bored. All there is to do is watch Russian television, or observe Alexi, the once super-fit Russian fighter pilot/now smuggler, consume his body weight in vodka. You haven’t lived till you’ve seen him trying to get to his bed, on the second floor of his plane hangar, using his lips.

  Today, we were both outside watching the sunset over the large lake. I don’t know why, but I always expect the sun to sizzle as it disappears beyond the edge of the water. Alexi did manage to find some books for me, but when I tried to read him the story of Moby Dick, he took it as a sexual invitation which I had to forcefully reject.

  Although I was reading one of the literary greats, it was spoilt by the view of Alexi who had now spent a good twenty minutes scratching his groin. Fair enough, if you’re going to do something, take your time and do it well. But he crossed the line when he sniffed his finger.

  ‘That’s it, I’m done!’ I snapped and walked inside the hangar, leaving Pig Man and the sunset together.

  The days rolled by, but things weren’t getting any better. Alexi allowed me to stay for a price, and I helped around the place while he was off doing God knows what in his jet. I needed a plan; I needed to be with my Mikey.

  Beijing

  Cheng Su stepped out of his blacked-out Range Rover and scanned the dimly lit city roads, his bodyguards were gathered around the aged forty-something mafia boss. He was the youngest ever member of the Council of Five. He was six foot tall, lean and always dressed in the best Saville Row suits. He walked into a nondescript house which was one step above a hovel. At least they didn’t have chickens walking around shitting everywhere; he hated animals. If the man was honest with himself, he only liked himself – and that was only on certain days.

  The blinds were all pulled down, so the outside world was not party to what was about to happen.

  ‘Good evening, Lee Family,’ Cheng said in what he thought were happy tones, not that anyone would tell him any different, especially with two generations of the Lee family, the two men and two women, on their knees. ‘Now, we were kind enough to bring your son here a few days ago for a visit, but now he has absconded, leaving one of my men dead,’ Cheng announced, stalking around the scared family.

  The oldest man raised his head. ‘Ming wouldn’t do such a thing, he’s a kind boy,’ said the old man.

  Su yawned. ‘That’s where you’re wrong. He was a hired killer for us, amongst other things, and now we want to know where he is,’ he demanded. Cheng knew he was crossing a line that the other much older Council of Five bosses wouldn’t like. But it wasn’t their man who had been killed. And even though he had a hundred other soldiers, he could not let such an insult against him and his family stand. ‘But I am a fair man; you have four chances to tell me where your little freak of nature is.’

  This time it was Mai/Ming’s father who spoke up. ‘We don’t know where he is. Your people said we would see him again in a week’s time, and that he would be okay,’ he said.

  ‘Well, I think you’re lying,’ the boss said before giving one of his henchman a nod.

  The lackey stepped forward and shot Mai’s grandmother in the head, making the other family members scream as her brain matter coated the not so clean floor.

  ‘You now have three chances,’ Cheng announced, and then smiled as the henchmen got the family back onto their knees.

  The sobbing father cried out calling them all monsters as his wife’s mother lay dead on the floor. ‘We know nothing. You had Ming with you, so you lost him!’ he shouted angrily but stopped when he saw the tall man nod.

  The man was killed so quickly that he probably didn’t even feel the bullet enter his skull, sending him to meet his ancestors.

  ‘This is not the way I want to spend my evening. I have a reporter in my cellar just begging for my attention,’ the boss said, making his men laugh. ‘Well, she’s begging about something.’ He chuckled and looked at the sobbing survivors.

  The woman who had just seen her husband killed seemed to be mentally broken, so she wasn’t in any fit state to be questioned further. With a quick nod, a bit of her brain stained the carpet as she joined her mother and husband in the afterlife.

  The lone survivor just stared at the tall, cold boss. ‘I weep for you and your ancestors. All you have done tonight is waste your time on a fool’s errand. Ming is hopefully somewhere safe, and you will bumble around searching for him, but I pray that one day he will find you first and get his revenge.’

  Cheng stared at the man. ‘You know he’s a killer?’ he reminded him.

  The eighty-year-old man laughed. ‘Of course, I taught him all I know,’ he replied and looked around the room. ‘I killed more men for our country than you lot ever will. And if I know my Ming, he will hunt you down and make you bleed,’ he threatened and gave a mocking laugh until he joined his family.

  The tall man rubbed his face. ‘Right, set it to burn,’ he instructed as he started to walk out. ‘And will someone find their bastard!’ he shouted whilst walking to his transport with fury building.

  Russia-China Border, Russian Side

  I was writing a letter to Mikey. Most people forget about the letter in this digital world. It’s all about e-mails or texts messages with their cell phones. I would send this straight to his work, so that will keep it from anyone trying to track me. Alexi said he would post it when he pops over to France on a job.

  My phone pinged again. I saw it was my ex again. ‘Boundaries, love,’ I said and then stilled as I read his message: Mai, Cheng Su went rogue and I’m afraid he murdered your family. Your parents and grandparents are gone. I am truly sorry. This was not sanctioned by the other four bosses.

  I squeezed my phone until I could hear the plastic start to crack. I then replied: What of my English friends? Are they safe?

  I waited. I knew Cheng was a cold-hearted bastard. No respect for the old ways or rules. My phone pinged: Doubtful, talking about cleaning house. Apart from dream asset…for now.

  ‘Damn them,’ I muttered. I knew the last bit was him just being jealous of Mikey, but would he push for the hit on my love? ‘Alexi!’

  ‘What!’ he shouted as I interrupted him mid scratch.

  ‘I needs guns and information on the Five?’ I asked/demanded, and then received a glare from the ex-soviet pilot.

  ‘About fucking time, you were starting to bore me.’ He went back to his scratching.

  I closed my eyes to keep the tears in. I could see the happiness on my family’s faces when they saw me, then it switched to the faces of the Council of Five, and I knew I
would kill them all.

  Chapter 9

  Sam Blades

  ‘Baggy trousers!’ I boomed as Madness rocked through my flat. Luckily, Bunny was at work, so I was free to dance around with my grey sweatpants nearly falling off my well-shaped arse. Once again, piss off, my book.

  It was my last day off before going back part-time. McAllister had gone back a few days earlier. I don’t know why he phoned to tell me that, maybe it was a guilt thing. I tried, unsuccessfully, to get a few more days off by claiming I was showing signs of PTSD when Bunny closed a cupboard too harshly. Even thinking about the look she gave me, as I bop away with a slice of pizza in my hand, still sends shivers down my spine.

  My phone interrupted the dance of my people. ‘Who dat?’ I demanded in my best gangster voice.

  ‘Sam, have you done the washing up yet?’ Bunny said in loving, caring tones. Well, that’s what the translation matrix in my brain told me, which appeared to be a faulty translation when it was irritation coming from her voice.

  I stopped dancing. ‘Nearly, my love, it’s on my to-do list,’ I tried to beam down the telephone. It would work better with FaceTime. But then, of course, the evidence of Mr Domino’s smeared over my mush would be there for all to see.

  A sigh of resignation filtered down the phone. ‘So, you’re either listening to your shit music while stuffing food that’s bad for you down your gob, or you’re watching a shit movie while eating aforementioned food,’ she stated, and the phone went silent.

  Damn you, woman.

  ‘I’m right, am I not, my love?’

  I let the life-giving food slip away from my hero-like finger back into the box. ‘Partially, my love, just getting my work head back on so I can hit the ground running.’ But once again that sigh headed my way. ‘How’s your day going?’ I asked, trying to rescue the conversation.

  ‘Good, but I’ve been moved again. I’m now PA to the second in charge of international loans,’ she said coolly.

  I remembered the discussion we’d had about the said man. Richard Head – that name alone made me laugh so hard it made my stiches bleed and I had to run to the toilet. I remembered the bloke from her company’s Christmas party. He was so ginger and freckly it seemed as if he’d got rusty in the womb. Not that I had a thing against that particular hair colour. I have friends who wear their red hair with pride, as they should, but this would make them take a step back and call for a priest.

  Knowing she was on her work phone, I had to pick my words carefully. I decided quickly on saying, ‘So much for sleeping your way to the top, then,’ and laughed. Nailed it.

  ‘Sammy, don’t forget to cook dinner tonight, and air out the flat. I don’t want to come home to the aroma of farts and pizza,’ Bunny instructed, totally ignoring my last comment. She must be concentrating on her work or something.

  ‘Well, I was going to order the food of your people,’ I advised, to which she returned another sigh. Clearly, all this cloak and dagger stuff at her work to find a corrupt colleague was taking its toll on my little Ninja.

  ‘Sam, please cook. No more takeout.’

  I decided to make her dreams come true. ‘Of course, my love, anything for you.’ After a quick goodbye, I started the music again and finished my pizza while dancing around in the House of Fun.

  Now, who would’ve thought making a stir-fry would cause a conversation about listening to my better half? Her point of view, a stir-fry was still a Chinese dish; in my world it was from a leading supermarket, not the Chinese. Truly, men are from Mars and women are from Venus.

  The next morning, I sat leaning back in my chair watching my Bunny walk around on one heel as she looked for the other shoe. Obviously, I had to hide my smirk behind my cup like a shield against an attacking foe, not that she would, but I had withheld vital information about said shoe, which I could see under the bed. I knew I could outpace a one-shoed Bunny, but I had left out the butter knife, and that brings back more flashbacks than the shootings.

  Finally, she was fully ready for work and gave me a kiss. ‘Now, good luck, and give it a couple of weeks before you start any shit. You know Mike said the HR manager is pissed off about the netball uniform,’ she said in a deadpan manner, but I could see the amusement in her eyes.

  I gave a slight huff as I remembered that email from my boss. ‘I’ll leave him alone…for now,’ and let a smile creep onto my face, which forced her well-manicured hand to grab my baby-makers.

  ‘Leave everyone alone. People will be sympathetic to you after the shooting, but that will quickly evaporate if you start taking the piss.’ She gave them another quick squeeze before I nodded avidly so my hostages were released – The Blades Two.

  My one true love, and possible future killer, left me alone to my thoughts, which didn’t bode well for anybody. So, I jumped up and checked my bald-headed twins which were feeling well disposed after their mishandling a few painful minutes ago.

  I slipped my earphones in and let Adam Ant sing to me about being a Prince Charming as I headed out onto the busy London streets. On my way I mused about the dog-skinning homeless lady that I’d befriended. I read in the newspaper after leaving hospital that she had been sent down for four years. One year for the dogs and three more for a near-fatal attack on a policeman using just her teeth. Strange woman.

  I was starting to regret my decision about returning to work today, until I saw my nemesis, the rebranded Karl Festa and the Wailers destroying another song. This time the leather-clad man was joined by a Kate Bush look-alike. My eyes locked with his. He clearly hadn’t seen what I had just noticed.

  The stupid bastard had left an open bottle of water inside his guitar case that they were using as the money gatherer. I took a pound from my pocket, bent down and flicked it into the case. Just as my money made a clink hitting his fellow kin of legal tender, my foot tapped the case, letting the clear fluid free amongst the money.

  ‘Oh, I am so sorry,’ I said, without slowing my step. What I had achieved was to stop this so-called group from destroying Dire Straits’ ‘Money for Nothing’. I knew as I walked away with curses flying around me that I had done some good that day.

  I stood outside Shimmering Dreams once again. The place looked pristine; they had spent a small fortune getting it back to normal. Mark Wayward had kept me informed on all the comings and goings in the workplace, along with some indecent pictures and other stories which I wished he hadn’t shared with me.

  I walked into the foyer and saw the unemployed models who called themselves receptionists. I shot them a winning smile. ‘No make-up, fair play. It’s good to let your skin breathe,’ I said to them and winked at their shocked faces. ‘Very brave,’ I added before pressing the button for the lift. Although a hint of fear shot through me, as snapshots of that day flashed through my mind, hearing the brain cell carriers spitting venom behind my back centred me. I was home.

  The journey through the department was nice enough and I was stopped by several colleagues asking how I was. One person asked me if I had been on holiday as I had a lovely tan. Stupid people. I can cope with idiots, but bloody stupid idiots deserve a slap, or a gift left in their desk drawer. But, as promised, not for a few weeks; watch your back, Karen!

  Mike waved me into his office. ‘Welcome back, Sam,’ he said. In his defence, he looked fairly sober and less drugged than normal. ‘You’re looking well rested,’ he added.

  I gave him a nod. ‘Yes, thanks, hurts a bit at times, but the wounds seem to be healing well,’ I answered and took the proffered coffee. ‘How are you feeling, boss? Did you get interviewed by the coppers, too?’

  He leaned back in his chair with a slight wince. ‘Same as you, Sam. And, yes, the police asked a lot of questions, and seemed a bit pissed off about me knowing nothing,’ Mike stated, allowing the room to go quiet as we both watched a seagull fly into the building opposite.

  ‘How are the bosses treating the Kettering thing?’ I saw the man wince again.

  He rubbed his face.
‘They don’t want to talk about it. They have worked with Special Branch, but internally they don’t want it mentioned. They paid the wife a lump sum to keep her quiet and away from the press.’ I nodded in the appropriate places. ‘They have just taken on a new guy as external security director. He’s ex-home office again.’ He closed his eyes as though worried about the next bit.

  ‘Ah, right, hope he’s better than the last bloke. So, what’s his name?’ I saw the man wince again; maybe he hadn’t healed yet.

  ‘Danny Doo,’ he said, making me chuckle and then receive a stern look from my boss. ‘His parents are from Thailand. He knows your past with his predecessor and will leave you alone, so don’t take the piss,’ Mike said sternly, making me hold up my hands in surrender.

  After a bit more useless chat, I headed back to my section. Mike told me that I had a reduced workload for now and for me to behave myself. What is it with these people? I’m an adult, not a child…

  I burst into the team’s office. ‘I’mmmmm back!’ I announced loudly before picking up a chocolate-covered peanut and launching it into Emily’s lace-covered chest cannons. Nailed it.

  Chapter 10

  Tony (Tiger) Thompson

  Today had been a bad day. This morning I had to lay my good friend Three Chins to rest. Normally, I would drink my fill at the wake. But his wife knew our history and our certain tastes of play. It was deemed to be suicide after a morning of debauchery, which I had bowed out from. If only I had been there. What a waste.

  Let me paint you a picture of what his wife came home to:

  1) Chins sitting naked with a Beretta APX Compact pistol which holds either ten or thirteen in the magazine in his hand, and what seemed to be his brains up the wall.

  2) A shitload of drugs. According to the report it was mainly cocaine and acid.

  3) A prostitute called ‘Nikki the Nun’ who had a thing for wearing a nun’s costume when working. She was lying on her side with a hole in her head and her brains covering a pot of potpourri.

 

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