The Mandarin's Vendetta (Rayna Tan Action Thriller Series Book 2)

by Wesley Robert Lowe

  “I already checked out that possibility. The competition is too fierce. I’m over the hill. I have wrinkles. I need botox.”

  “Are you kidding? Who the hell have you been talking to, girly girl? Never mind. The guy you’re looking out for may have bruising or hematomas. If he’s at the Linfu Plaza, sooner or later, he’s got to go through the lobby.”

  “You call that a plan?” quipped Rayna sarcastically.

  “Hey, it’s a stakeout. It would be great to be proactive, kick down doors, then bust chops but sometimes you got to sit and wait and see what happens but I’m all ears if you’ve got another suggestion.”

  Rayna cooed seductively, “Hey, I’m thirsty… ”

  “You are so bad. I like it.”

  ***

  Where the hell was Mary? The Mandarin had been tied up the whole day with Park, pushing the chemists as hard as he could. When he wasn’t doing that, he was on the phone trying to figure out what the hell was going on with Mary and Rayna. When he didn’t hear from them, he tried Jun but there was no answer there, either.

  And traveling from Pyongyang to China, cell phone coverage was its usual totally crappy self and he couldn’t get through even to their phones. Now, back in Linfu, he wanted to know what the hell was going on.

  He wanted an update, but Mary was still incommunicado. He wasn’t worried that she might run off with the dough—he owned her and could do anything he wanted. And then he remembered. Damn her. She forgot to charge her phone again. She is so damned irresponsible. I will definitely have to teach her a lesson. Did she and Rayna get the bags off to Beijing?

  And then a disturbing thought dawned. He knew that while she would never be satisfied by any man but him, she had a weakness for strong women. What if Mary had done a side deal with the girl and the two had skipped out with his money?

  “Get me to the Linfu Plaza. Now,” ordered the Mandarin to Park’s chauffeur as the modest vehicle crossed over the Sino-Korean Harmony Bridge connecting the two countries.

  “Yes, sir.”

  ***

  Rayna didn’t really need to worry about competition from the other girls in the bar. In the twelve minutes she had been sitting at her table, she had been propositioned three times by customers after they had looked over her overly eager, overly made-up and underly dressed “rivals.” Her stomach churned for three reasons: She felt helpless that she couldn’t do anything for the girls who had no other means of support; none of the men who approached her seemed like potential candidates for the Mandarin; and she hadn’t a clue what Deng looked like.

  She also felt vulnerable. After all the effort of getting a weapon from Lily, she had to give it up. There was no way to hide it under her barely-there black dress with a libidinous thigh-slit and plunging V-neck.

  Then a possibility entered the hotel lobby. A muscular older middle-aged man with a scar down his face whose body language broadcast he was about to explode.

  It was show time.

  Rayna’s body was a knot. Some called that fear or even cowardice. Rayna knew that was what kept her alive—always expecting the worst and realizing that was just the beginning. Donning her sunglasses, she briskly stepped toward the man who was entering the elevator. She squeezed in just as the elevator was closing, pushing him toward the back of the lift.

  On automatic pilot, the man took a roundhouse swing in the direction of the head of the person who shoved him.

  Rayna caught his arm. “Relax.”

  The man turned around and recognized Rayna immediately. “You’re bikini girl.”

  “And you’re Deng.”

  “You’re supposed to be coordinating our shipment. Why are you here and where is Mary?” snarled Deng.

  “Same place as Jun.” Rayna flipped open her cell phone, revealing a picture of Mary’s drowned corpse and of the naked Rayna in a picture of conquest and humiliation of Jun, a man twice her size.

  “You should thank me. I had to kill them. As soon as the money transfer was completed, they were going to take your money and run. Mary asked me to go with them but you are our client, not her.”

  “The bastards. I made them. I MADE THEM! How the hell did you find me?”

  “Obviously, I’m very persuasive,” shrugged Rayna. “But that’s not important right now. I’m here so we can coordinate the shipments. Show me the N115 and I can put my team in motion in two days.”

  The Mandarin bit his lip. “There’s been a change. My Pyongyang manufacturers made a modification to the formula. It is now N117. It takes far less to kill and we can take full delivery tomorrow.”

  He just saved his life—at least for now. I’ve got to find out where the stuff is. Rayna’s voice turned to ice. “We gave you our price based on certain parameters. We cannot do business with you changing the rules after we’ve started. So what are we going to do now?”

  “Come to my room. I can be very entertaining.”

  Visions of the brutalized dead hooker and Mary’s abnormal scarring leapt to Rayna’s mind. She grabbed his head with her hands, thrust her tongue down his throat, sucked the air out of his lungs, then released him.

  “Business first. You need to tell me everything.”

  Chapter Sixty-One

  In the glowing orange sky flecked with purple, with the setting sun reflecting into the sparkling waves of the Yalu river, it was a stunning Linfu sunset. Rayna and Deng strolled along the charming walkway with the luscious forest abuzz with the cooing, giggling and moaning of clandestine lovers.

  “I didn’t take you for being the romantic type,” said Rayna as Deng stopped in a quiet, isolated portion of the bank.

  Deng’s face steeled. “This is where delivery will take place. At strategic points along the river.”

  Her inner radar working in overdrive, there was a note of ominous concern in Rayna’s voice as she studied the emotionless expression that stretched across the Mandarin’s face. “At the hotel, you told me it was being made in Pyongyang. I assumed we were picking it up from there.”

  “The General prefers not to reveal where the factory is.”

  The General? The North Korean military are involved? “I’m not asking this to be nosey but I do need to know if we’ll be dealing with the Supreme Leader or any of his military cronies. That changes our approach… but not our price.”

  “No, no. It’s a private affair. The man I’m dealing with is an independent broker. He’s got North Korea’s best chemists working on our product.”

  “So if we’re not picking it up, how are we going to get it?”

  The Mandarin turned to the Yalu River and pointed. “This river is shallow and goes on for ten miles. Sometime tomorrow morning, manufacturing will be finished and we will have the merchandise shipped to the other side of the river. The general is arranging to have seventy-five women crossing different parts of the river. Each one of them will be carrying a little Ziplock bag. Some of them will contain N117, some will contain crystal meth, some will contain flour.”

  “Obviously not here. It’s too wide. Where?”

  Rayna heard a faint familiar noise—the cocking and pulling of the trigger on a gun—and dropped hard and rolled to her side. There was a thud and puff of dirt rising from where the bullet handed.

  Looking up, she saw Deng cold, methodical… He had the barrel of a .22 caliber gun, fitted with a long silencer, aimed directly at her. Had she not lowered herself, the bullet would have gone directly into the middle of the back of her head, likely exploding and decapitating her.

  He’s figured me out! I asked too many questions.

  The predator was moving in on its prey.

  Standing stark against the orange horizon, the Mandarin spat in Rayna’s direction, then unleashed more silent fire.

  Rayna rolled over, one direction, then the other. The random movements didn’t allow Deng a clear target and bullets ricocheted off the ground, missing their prey by millimeters. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a rock explode into granular particles as bul
lets slammed into it.

  On the ground, she did a sideswipe of the Mandarin’s legs. He quickly jumped, missing the brunt of Rayna’s kick. Still poised to fire, he shot again while in the air. Rayna quickly turned and dodged the sizzling lead. The bullet bypassed her and seared the river’s water as it entered.

  Rayna looked desperately for anything to defend herself with. A small rock, barely the size of the extinct silver dollar, lay by her hand. She picked it up and, with pinpoint precision, launched it at the Mandarin’s face.

  He angled his face so that the stone embedded into his cheek. Blood spurted out but there was no serious damage. It was, however, a minor distraction. Rayna dove at the Mandarin’s legs and he toppled awkwardly.

  Rayna ripped the gun from his hand and tossed it into the water.

  “That was stupid. Getting it and shooting me was your only chance of survival,” snapped her foe as he pulled another gun from his pocket.

  There was a microsecond for Rayna to decide her plan of attack… or retreat. She ruled out retreat because an assassin of the Mandarin’s caliber would not miss from pointblank range. There was no way she could compete with him in any kind of street brawl.

  That left her one choice for survival—the martial arts training she’d received ever since she was a child. It had to be fast, and it had to be accurate.

  Rayna lunged at the Mandarin with both arms whirling like windmills on steroids. Not expecting the blitzkrieg attack, he put his hands in front of his face to prevent the tiger claws of Rayna’s hands from ripping out his eyes.

  Rayna reached to pull the gun from the Mandarin’s hand but he yanked it back, countering with a vicious left hook.

  With her feet firmly planted, Rayna deftly moved her upper body to the right then, demonstrating incredible flexibility, she threw a side kick into the Mandarin’s chest, knocking him down.

  Rayna fell on top of him, arm slugging him in the throat, then gouging at any part of his body she could. The Mandarin countered by using the .22 as a bludgeon. Rayna ignored the pounding she was taking. She reached her arm back and drove her fingers toward the Mandarin’s eyes. As her arm descended, the Mandarin’s head rocked up and bit her on the forearm, piercing the skin.

  Blood spurted out as Rayna yanked her arm back before his incisors tore into her flesh. For the Mandarin, he had his small victory—his eyeball was still in its socket. He tossed her off, landing a blow to her midsection.

  Fighting through the agony, Rayna crooked her elbow and landed it squarely on his nose. There was a horrible cracking sound as his nose was pushed into his head.

  Both combatants stumbled to their feet, warily watching each other

  Roaring, the Mandarin aimed at Rayna and fired. But, as he shot, another side kick from Rayna hit his hand. The bullet shifted direction and grazed the ear of the ex-Special Forces operative. Like its brother, this miniature rocket found a grave in the Yalu River.

  With blood dripping from her wounded ear, Rayna summoned every last bit of strength as she threw twisting hammer punches at the Mandarin’s mid-section. He withstood them all like Muhammad Ali absorbing the heaviest blows Joe Frazier could throw at him in the Thrilla from Manila.

  Rayna was tiring, but so was Deng—the barrage of blows weakened him, too. Time for a counter-assault.

  The Mandarin barreled at her, clipping her arm with a jackhammer blow but Rayna sidestepped the full frontal assault. He whipped around and threw a devastating sidekick at her. Her reflexes dulled, Rayna was not quick enough to avoid his foot colliding with her head. She managed to stay erect but staggered backward.

  Standing three feet apart, both were panting and sweating, two exhausted wounded warriors. Rayna’s mind was working overtime. There was no way she could continue like this. She had to end it soon or she would be finished. She used the only possible weapon she could think of—his male ego.

  “Mary died happy because half an hour with me was worth more than a thousand nights with you. All you did was hurt her, abuse her until she bled, whereas I thrilled her with these.”

  Rayna ripped her blouse off and tore the cups off her strapless bra. It may have been the sight of Rayna’s delectable breasts or maybe it was just the shock of Rayna’s action but, whatever it was, it was enough to distract the Mandarin for a microsecond. Time enough, though, for Rayna to yank the handgun from him and shoot him in the leg.

  The Mandarin would not allow himself to scream but dropped to his knees.

  Rayna booted him hard. As he lay in agony on the ground, Rayna twisted her foot into his bleeding thigh.

  “Where is the factory?”

  The Mandarin gritted his teeth and grunted but refused to talk.

  Rayna, aiming the Mandarin’s weapon at his head, crouched and took the cell phone out of the Mandarin’s pocket. She thumbed a familiar number.

  “Hello, Mario’s Pizza. Can I take your order please?”

  “Julio, if I keep this phone on, can you pull all the data and recent phone calls off it and get me addresses and locations?”

  “Boom. It’s done. What do you need to know?”

  “Any recent addresses in Pyongyang?”

  “Just one. Seems like a lot of calls were made there today.”

  “Thanks, Julio. Will you have any more need for this phone?”

  “It would be nice but not necessary.”

  “I’ll take that as a ‘no.’ I’ll call again in a bit.”

  Rayna stroked the gun as she inched closer to this purveyor of human tragedy. “So it doesn’t matter if you feel like talking or not. I’ve got what I need.”

  The Mandarin locked a menacing stare on his foe. “It doesn’t matter about me. I will still have my revenge on America for the death of my son. I’ve given orders to proceed with a different plan if I am not heard from. You cannot stop me.”

  “Says who?”

  Rayna coldly pumped a hole into the side of Deng’s head and watched as life spurted out of him. She wiped the gun down, then put it in his hand. She then flipped through the images on his phone until she found a picture of Jackson. She placed the phone in the Mandarin’s other hand.

  Not that anyone would check that hard but it would be pretty obvious to the authorities when they arrived that Mr. Deng from Guangzhou had committed suicide because of his son’s drug overdose.

  Rayna fished around in the Mandarin’s pockets. Sure enough, there was another cell phone there.

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  Fidelitas’ goal for this China trip was to exact payback for those responsible for the Zongtian school disaster. With the Mandarin’s death, that had been largely accomplished.

  But before anyone could pat themselves on the back, there was another matter to take care of: finding and destroying the N117 in Pyongyang.

  Tonight.

  And Rayna had only the skimpiest of information to work with.

  But at least Julio was able to provide an address for her.

  Rayna had to continue to fly solo.

  Not to mention she was weaponless. She would have liked a few bricks of C4 and an AK47 but she didn’t have the gun that Lily gave her anymore.

  Lily. Lily?

  Rayna took the Mandarin’s cell and made a call.

  “Hello?” sounded a familiar voice.

  “Hi, Lily, it’s Rayna.”

  “Oh, thank God you’re alive. Did you use the little present I gave you?”

  “No, as things turned out, he decided to behave but I’m wondering where you got it. I’m looking to get another kind of protection.”

  There was a brief pause in the conversation as Lily thoughtfully made light clicking sounds with her tongue.

  “Lily?”

  “Yes, I’m here. I’ll need to take you where you want to go. She won’t deal with anyone without an introduction.”

  “Thanks. Lily, can I ask why you’re willing to help me?”

  “Of course. Once upon a time, I was like you… a working girl. We have to look out for ea
ch other… I’ll be at the Linfu Plaza in twenty minutes.”

  “Perfect.”

  ***

  Twenty minutes was enough for Rayna to get back to the hotel, change into comfortable functional clothes, primp herself a bit, and liberate a dozen books of matches from the lounge.

  She met Lily at the hotel door and hopped into her limo. “Thanks, Lily. I appreciate this.”

  “No problem. Anything for my little sister.”

  After several blocks of Chinese and North Korean enterprises, the limo turned down a narrow dark alley. Not a whole lot of places open except for bars and massage parlors. The vehicle pulled to the side in front of a dimly lit shop with a sign that read, “Used Appliances.”

  An elderly woman was waiting in front and opened the vehicle door. After Lily and Rayna stepped out onto the curb, the cautious senior ushered them into her store, then locked the door. The store was full of washing machines, fridges, microwaves—none that looked as if they worked.

  “Hello, Lily,” said the shopkeeper.

  “Hi, Mama. Rayna, this is my mother, Anna. Mama, Rayna needs some things.”

  “What kind of ‘things?’”

  Rayna looked back and forth between Lily and her mother. The eyes, the long fingers … there were definitely resemblances. I wonder how much I look like Ling. “I was looking for some high intensity flares that can generate some heat quickly. Maybe twenty of them that I can carry with me?”

  “Rayna, if that’s what you wanted, I could have taken you to a hardware store. What do you really need and why?” asked Lily. No longer the airhead cougar, Lily looked a formidable businesswoman.

  There are times to tell the truth and there are times to tell a lie. Rayna’s normal instinct was to lie, but there was zero time to bullshit.

  “Lily, I’m not who you think I am. I’m not a hooker and I didn’t come here to earn a few bucks.”

  “I knew that but I could see you didn’t want to tell me so I played along with it. What do you need and, if you feel like telling me, why?”