“Park, there is no money for me at all in this. But this must be done.”
“Of course I will do whatever you require.”
“I want to use N115 as my weapon. How soon can you deliver it?”
“It’s still experimental. I don’t know if I can…”
Before he finished speaking, the Mandarin threw his hands around Park’s neck. His congenial veneer vanished as he started squeezing. “Don’t play games with me. Are you ready to talk?”
“Yes,” gurgled the hapless general.
“Good.” The Mandarin released his hold on Park’s thick neck.
The general wiped the sweat off his brow with his sleeve. “Are you crazy, Mandarin?”
“You are wasting my time and I want to get started. Tell me more about it.”
Park looked at the Mandarin. There was something definitely different today about the Mandarin—it was all business. Good. “N115, like other synthetic drugs, gives this incredible high.”
“You told me that. How about after you decompress? Hypertension? Loss of appetite? Fatigue like the others?”
“None of our test cases have gotten that far. They’re dead within three hours.”
“What’s the success rate?”
“We’ve tried it on twenty prisoners. Every one of them died. There is no antidote.”
“So what is the downside?”
“It’s extremely toxic. Just don’t be stupid enough to try it yourself.”
The Mandarin did some mental arithmetic. If it were one hundred percent effective and there was zero wastage, it would take maybe five kilograms. That, of course, would never happen. There was bound to be some wastage. The Mandarin budgeted for ten kilograms.
“What’s the cost? I don’t want to haggle. Just give me your best price to start with. Ten kilograms.”
Park’s adrenaline began pumping. “That’s enough to kill everyone in a mid-sized city.”
“Exactly. Now what is your price? I want delivery ASAP.”
“Two million dollars per kilogram and it will be delivered in ten days.”
“I’m not going to bargain but I will only agree to the price if you can deliver in a week.”
The North Korean started breathing hard. What the Mandarin wanted was an enormous amount, a hundred times more than presently existed on earth. But the money was irresistible. Normal prices of high quality crystal meth was up to a hundred grand per kilo, a lot more if it were sold to Aussies, the country with the world’s highest addiction rates. But N115 wasn’t a recreational drug in that sense…
“You have a deal.”
“Agreed. We will be in touch about delivery details. I will arrange for a five million dollar deposit.”
“Ten,” said the general firmly. “I’ll have to pay a premium to get such quick delivery.”
“Done.”
Park sucked in a huge gulp of air. All his life, he had waited for a break but he never expected one of this magnitude nor that it would come from a Chinese. “Why are you doing this, Mandarin?”
The Mandarin took a deep breath, then spoke solemnly. “The Americans killed my only son and they blamed him for what happened. That is unforgivable… and I will not forgive. I will take one million of their children in return. They killed my son with their lax laws on drugs. I want to teach them a lesson.”
All crystallized for the military officer. “You want justice. I understand. This is the Mandarin’s Vendetta.”
“Exactly.” The Mandarin tilted back his head and looked upward. “General Park… I want to see for myself that N115 works.”
“In that case, you’ve got to come back to Pyongyang with me.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The Mandarin would go berserk when he found out. Mary was so paralyzed that she couldn’t leave her desk even though her work had been done two hours ago.
But she wouldn’t leave until she talked to her boss.
RING. Finally, an answer.
“Hello, Mandarin.”
“What did Danny say? Is he free tonight? I need him to join me.”
“Mandarin, Danny’s dead.”
The Mandarin hadn’t asked what happened but Mary was so nervous that words sped out of her mouth. “He was pushed off the balcony by his anorexic ninety-five-pound sixteen-year-old singer mistress. And he was forty-three! She was angry because he let her precious Persian cat fall over the balcony ledge. She was so mad, she flew at him and the two tumbled over the rail. Only the stupid white cat survived.”
Mary could feel the fumes steaming out of the Mandarin’s head over the phone.
“What an idiot. Killed by a whore? What kind of man is that?” snarled the Mandarin. “I’ve got to find someone else like Danny. Someone who knows shipping and distribution of drugs in the United States.” The Mandarin grunted out loud, like an exasperated ape.
Mary bit her tongue. This was uncharacteristic behavior for the Mandarin. It was a bit of a concern that she, who usually knew everything about what went on with the Mandarin’s operations, was kept completely in the dark.
There was an uncomfortable silence for what seemed like an eternity to Mary although, in reality, it probably wasn’t more than fifteen seconds.
Then, the Mandarin spoke. Quietly, firmly and with a knife edge in his voice. “I have the biggest project I have ever done ahead of us,” began the Mandarin. “We are going to kill one million Americans.”
Mary gasped. While she was just an employee expected to carry out orders and not question her boss, in this case, the magnitude of what her boss just said was… spectacular… and insane. She blurted out, “Why?”
She immediately regretted asking and was shocked when the Mandarin answered. “Jackson died from American incompetence. They let him die from a drug overdose. I’m going to make them pay. They will weep and wail for years.”
So that’s the reason. Mary felt a slight remorse. While she didn’t love Jackson, with the Mandarin so busy at work, it was left up to the forty-five-year-old single woman to look after the details in Jackson’s life, about the closest she would ever come to being a mother.
She knew the Mandarin better than to offer support or condolences. Keep it business. Don’t ask ‘how?’ “Is there anyone else you want me to contact?” ventured Mary carefully.
“There isn’t anyone I trust but I definitely need someone… Can you think of anyone?”
Mary was flabbergasted. The Mandarin had never asked for her opinion before.
“There is someone. When you said you couldn’t go to the lunch yesterday, I took the liberty of taking your place at this one.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. What lunch was that?”
“The one that had the invitation of the girl with the gun and the bikini. They were very professional… and they knew about Zongtian. And one more thing.”
“What?”
“We watched live as Wen was killed in prison. Chopstick to the throat at lunch… it was something neither we nor anyone else was able to arrange.”
Time hung in the air. Mary had no idea of knowing whether she would be fired with the next sentence or praised. With the Mandarin staying quiet, she continued. “They have worked on some big names. Cartels. Casinos. Drug runners. Arms dealers. Their Hong Kong office is a satellite. Their head office is in San Francisco… They moved a billion dollars from China to North America last year from all sources. I got the impression that what they don’t do, they can easily pull off.”
“Call them now. Let’s find out how real they are.”
While the Mandarin had given her the go ahead to contact someone else, she was nervous. Was she really that impressed with what Fidelitas had to offer… or was it… Mary punched a number into her phone.
“Fidelitas Enterprises, may I help you?” greeted the friendly but businesslike female receptionist at the CenCom in California in Mandarin.
“I’d like to speak to Mr. Arthur Yang. I met him at a lunch he hosted the other day,” sai
d Mary.
“You must be Mary Wu. I hope your boss is feeling better.”
“Much better, thank you… How did you know it was me?”
“You were the only female guest at the luncheon. I will patch you through to Mr. Yang. It’ll take a few moments if you don’t mind holding.”
“Please take your time.”
Mary was impressed. Fidelitas had an actual person answering the phone. That meant that the company didn’t get so many calls that her call would be routed through a series of automated responses. The secretary also knew who she was and the circumstances under which she was invited to the luncheon—she had made an excuse that the Mandarin was feeling ill, hence her filling in for him. She might have been even more impressed, and worried, had she known that her exact location in the Sunrise Tower had been tracked as well.
But, at least, Fidelitas didn’t know the Mandarin was listening in, too.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Arthur and Barry were in their hotel suite conducting an in-depth post mortem of yesterday’s presentation when Arthur’s cell phone began vibrating with a text message from Gillian, the multi-lingual receptionist at CenCom. Mary from your luncheon with Rayna on the line. Do you want to take the call?
Arthur typed Yes. “Julio, track the call and see what else you can find out.”
“Roger that. Ever and always.”
Arthur gave Barry the thumbs up as the call was transferred. “Hello, Mary. Arthur here. How can I be of assistance?”
“Mr. Yang, I was hoping we might have a chance to speak about distribution possibilities in America.”
“Call me Arthur. I’m sure we could arrange that. Can you give me some details?”
“I’d prefer to do so in person. Would you and your female associate Rayna be available to come in now?”
Yeah, right. Arthur waved his phone in the air. “I’m sorry. There are some pressing matters I need to attend to first. Can we meet early next week?” While there was nothing on his schedule, Arthur knew that to let any potential client know that he was doing nothing and could meet on a moment’s notice would not be seen as a good sign.
Strained silence flooded the room. Neither the Mandarin nor Mary were used to not getting their way. The Mandarin texted her: Offer twenty thousand to come in today.
Mary awkwardly responded. “If I gave you twenty thousand dollars, could you make it today?”
“Mary,” said Arthur with the voice of someone who was doing her a tremendous favor, “I am working on a deal that is more than two thousand times that size. It requires huge sensitivity with the State Administration for Trade and Commerce and Deputy Minister Zhong Li. It demands my full attention… But Rayna and I can be at your office next Monday at 8:00 am. Is that acceptable?”
Mary and the Mandarin were taken aback. They both had the same thoughts. Were they really that busy? The Mandarin texted Try two days at 8 a.m.
Mary munched on her lower lip, contemplating. “Is there any chance that you can make it earlier? Maybe in two days’ time at eight in the morning?”
Arthur paused before responding. “Can we make it at 4:45 a.m.?”
“Yes, of course. My office is at…”
Arthur cut her off. “I know where it is—you’re in the Sunrise Tower. And we will see you then.”
He hung up and made another call.
“Hello, Arthur.”
“Hi, Rayna. A heads up. We have a meeting at quarter to five in the morning in two days.”
The Fidelitas board member heard a chuckle. “What’s so funny?”
“I just met my grandmother and birth father in a small old church in Golden Corner, discovered both my birth father and father who raised me are pastors, and just saw my birth mother’s resting place and now you call to remind me of why I’m really here.”
“Sorry to do that. Enjoy the moment.”
Arthur hung up and turned to Barry. “Did you hear that? Unbelievable. Was that synchronicity? Coincidence? God?”
Barry smiled at his colleague. “To everything there is a reason.”
***
Mary asked the Mandarin, “Did you catch that? Can you be there?”
“You take the meeting. I’ll listen in. Also, why don’t you see if he’s really doing something with Trade and Commerce’s Zhong Li. Rumor has it he’s corrupt to the bone. If it’s true, then maybe he’ll be okay.” The Mandarin ended the call.
Mary didn’t have any religious beliefs at all but, like many Chinese, she had some belief that there was something “out there.” Was it possible that the fates had determined that she sit in for the Mandarin at lunch with Arthur and Rayna for a time such as this?
Chapter Forty
Sitting inside the Mercedes limo in the quasi-parking lot in front of the monastery, Tex was totally focused on his cell phone conversation. “We are going to be rich, babe! I’ll buy you a ten carat diamond ring, a house on the hill and we’ll have our own private jet.”
“Tex, how real is this money, though? She might be just another American trying to get money from the Chinese,” answered the lilting young woman’s voice.
“We don’t have any so she’s not going to get any from us. Don’t worry, Mei.”
Tex heard sniffles. “What’s the matter? What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I think she just wants to steal you away from me,” wailed Mei.
“You’re crazy, Mei. I’m going to be Roy Rogers and you’re going to be my Dale Evans!”
“Who are they? You’re the only one I ever loved and now some rich American is taking you away.”
“Mei! Stop it!” yelled Tex but Mei had already hung up.
Before Tex could call Mei back, the car door was yanked open. Ponytail’s strong hands pulled hard on the bandana around Tex’s neck. It happened so fast that the cowboy chauffeur had no chance to defend himself as burly arms dragged him out of the car. While he thrashed about trying to free himself, Johnny socked a hard right fist into Tex’s stomach.
Tex tried to yell but nothing other than muffled gurgling came out of his mouth. A ferocious roundhouse fist knocked Tex out cold.
“Nice work, Ponytail,” nodded Sting.
“Well, we can’t have his blood anywhere in the car. You watch those American cop shows? If he leaked even just a bit, it would be a bitch. They always find traces of blood, no matter how well the crooks clean up.”
“Where do you want him to go?”
“Let’s stash him behind those bushes,” growled Ponytail, motioning toward a hedge by the monastery’s wall. “But first…” Ponytail released the bandana and put his two hands directly around Tex’s throat and squeezed as hard as he could. There was a crack as Tex’s neck snapped. Ponytail stared intently at Tex’s body. Satisfied that there was not a hint of movement, he reached into Tex’s pocket and pulled out the keys. Then he, Johnny and Sting carried the body and hid it behind the thicket.
Ponytail took a look at the curved pointed roof with the gold Chinese characters. “We’re gonna make a ton of money here,” he cooed softly. He turned to his brothers. “Let’s get ready.”
Chapter Forty-One
It was time to leave if they were going to have a meal with Popo. As Henry, Martin and Rayna strolled back to the monastery, clouds overhead started to darken.
“Our timing was perfect. Fifteen minutes more and we would be drenched.”
The courtyard bell began to toll.
Martin grinned. “The monks are being called to prayer. By the time we get there, the monastery grounds will be empty, since they’ll all be in one of the halls.”
As they retraced their earlier steps, a whistling wind made them fold their arms over their chests to shelter themselves.
Martin was only partially right. As they entered the monastery grounds, the courtyard was empty of the physical presence of the monks, but full of their monotone, rhythmic chanting.
Walking contemplatively toward the front of the monastery, Rayna breathed out slowly as the K
afkaesque experience unfolded. Here I am with two men, both of whom are my fathers, both of them who wound up being pastors. My biological father was not there at my birth, but my adoptive father was. How weird can that be?
Her meditative musings were interrupted by the sound of three soda-sized black cans bouncing in front of them. One container spewed orange smoke, the other two spat out a black shroud.
Rayna knew exactly what they were and what was likely to come next.
She grabbed the hands of Henry and Martin. “Turn back. Run!”
Too late. Thick smoke permeated the air, impairing the trio’s vision. Martin collided with Henry. Both men fell to the ground, coughing.
“Crawl,” commanded Rayna. “And follow me.”
On their hands and knees, Rayna led them to the area where she remembered a statue stood. It was a case of the blind leading the blind, only discovered when Rayna’s head collided with the statue’s base and Henry and Martin bumped into Rayna. She put her finger to her mouth to keep her fathers quiet as she barked in a low voice. “Move to the back of the statue for protection and stay put.”
“What are you going to do?” asked Martin, alarmed.
“Got no time to explain. You tell him, Dad.”
Rayna, still on her hands and knees, galloped like a horse until she reached open air.
She stood up to assess the situation. There were three men. One had a long ponytail. He wore a bandolier and carried an assault rifle. Rayna recognized it as an old Chinese version of the M16.
The other two men had savage-looking crew cuts. One of them sported a tactical vest with at least two dozen grenades. The third one had a flame thrower.
“No!” Rayna yelled as monks poured out of the halls to see what the commotion was all about.
Pacifist monks or not, invaders had swarmed their domain and they had to do something.
“Go back!” Rayna screamed, but it was too late—a grenade landed in front of the first group of monks. A second later, an explosion rocked the courtyard compound and the unsuspecting monks closest to the explosion’s epicenter were blown to bits, while those behind them were thrown back hard.
The Mandarin's Vendetta (Rayna Tan Action Thriller Series Book 2) Page 14