Empire of the Dragon

by David L. Golemon

  “Oh…my…god,” was all Anya could get out of her mouth before the beauty of the view took her words away.

  It was an entirely new world before them as they all looked down from a height of three hundred feet. The green colors are what sapped everyone’s desire for further questioning. Trees. Grass. A valley of life that stretched out for miles upon miles. Pagoda-style buildings. Towers of red, green, and gold stretched to the top of the most enormous cave system ever seen on Earth. Water was everywhere as many rivers flowed down below them. They meandered with a soft glow of movement as two rivers curled around the settlement. Magnificent stone statuary lined the rolling hills of the valley. Birds sang. A cry of a cat sounded somewhere in the hills surrounding the settlement. They saw figures walking, playing, and working the fields far below. As they looked up, it was if they were looking at blue skies. It was an illusion they soon discovered. Whatever it was, was based on the same principle as the ball of electric light used in the cave. The laughter of children sounded, a bell tolled, and cows and chickens moved about in their daily routine.

  “This is impossible,” Sarah said as she felt her knees grow weaker by the moment.

  “And yet, here it is,” Birnbaum said as he felt he should close his mouth before anyone saw the drool that wanted to escape from his mouth in the most desperate way.

  “Welcome to our home,” Li Zheng said as he again stretched out a welcoming hand toward the valley below.

  “Ahh,” was all the false spy, Anderson, could mutter as he took in the most impossible view imaginable.

  “Where in the hell have you taken us?” Anya mumbled, finally losing her ability to stay on her feet, collapsing to the soft green grass of the trail.

  “Hah, I told you!”

  All heads turned to see three men who had come upon them unnoticed above their position. Sarah smiled when she saw a young man holding a bundle of clothing and a large spear, and then they saw a surly Jason Ryan and an ecstatic Charlie Hindershot Ellenshaw III, smiling on the trail just above them. Charlie slapped Ryan on the back as he took in the view and their friends down below.

  “Welcome to Shangri-La, you silly unbelievers!”

  * * *

  Pi Biehn, Laos

  The area was dark. Not one sliver of light penetrated the inky darkness. The thick walls kept sound all but muted, and the smell was one of dampness and mold. A large and very thick door opened, and a large, rotund man stepped through, and closed the door, immediately plunging the stone prison once more into satin blackness. The man found a switch on the wall. He waited momentarily until his pupils adjusted to the new illumination. The man removed the same fedora he had worn when he had met his contact in Cambodia that very same morning. Doctor Leoniv Vassick saw the folding chair next to the door and hefted it and then walked the few paces toward the only cell hidden away down the long, damp corridor. He placed the chair down and sat. His gaze saw the figure on the bare-springs cot. He placed his left leg over the right and then the fedora was rested in his lap as he cleared his throat.

  “It is good to see you once more. We had such a short visit aboard the battle cruiser Simbirsk last month.”

  Silence from the figure on the cot. No movement, no words.

  “You have my condolences on the premature death of your associate. It was unfortunate that we ran into you in this unlikeliest of places. Laos is a hell hole of the worst kind, but very valuable in the field in which we are endeavoring to make a mark in. Unlike your own entity with its massive budget, we must procure resources where we find them.” Still no movement. “I admire your ferocity in continuing a search for the killers of the innocents aboard the Simbirsk. We have never seen such devotion to justice before, especially from a professional killer such as yourself. But, as they say, curiosity killed the kittens.”

  “Cat, dumb shit. Curiosity killed the cat.” The voice was deep and absent humor.

  “Ah, a little flair of life.’

  Vassick finally saw the dark figure move. The man sat up on the squeaky springs of the cot and faced the Russian. He was battered and bruised, but the life shown in his blue eyes were visible even from the distance they had between them.

  “I just came to say farewell until our next meeting. Your new home awaits, and we have many, many questions to ask you about your organization.” Vassick pulled out a pocket watch and clicked the lid open, studyingthe time. “But alas, that can wait,” he said as he stood and replaced his hat on his balding head. “I just wanted to say to you that it was a shame you murdered your best friend. A situation like that may spark a self-righteous reaction from a man like you. But revenge should not be your priority. What must be your priority, is the fact that we got to you and your friend rather easily and set in motion a plan that has taken many years to prepare. Do you think that we cannot get to others, even more important people in your life? I dare say we can. In fact, we are currently tracking four of them as we speak.” Vassick stepped toward the thick bars that separated him from one of the most dangerous men in the world. “Be very fruitful and talkative when you get to my homeland. You may find your cooperation will save many lives.” He turned away from the man as he rose and stepped toward the bars. Vassick stopped and turned to face the bearded man. “Goodbye, Colonel.”

  Colonel Jack Collins watched the darkness close in once more. His blue eyes were ablaze with anger, self-loathing, and hate. He had to concentrate. He knew the most important field team at the moment was in Siberia. Is that the target of their next murderous act? He shook his head, knowing all he could do was wait for an opportunity.

  Part II

  WHITE MAGIC

  “I can feel white magic burning inside of me just waiting to burst out and eager to be used…”

  ~ Alejandra Moreno

  From the poem, White Magic

  Chapter Five

  Reunification Express Train, (Vietnam Railway)

  Nearing Hanoi, Vietnam

  Carl was watching Colonel Henri Farbeaux. The Frenchman never ceased to amaze the American for his ability to blend in with any nationality in the world. Jack once declared, in a security brief at the complex, that this was the reason Henri had been so adept at gathering the antiquities he had acquired. He made those he met feel comfortable and confident in his kind nature before stealing everything they had entrusted him with. At the moment, that seemed not to be his main goal as he was toying with the four-year-old Vietnamese child in the seats in front of them. Henri would raise his head above the seat-back and then lower it again quickly when the child would peek. This would bring giggles to he and his mother. The game ceased when the mother and child got off at the stop before reaching the Vietnamese capital.

  “Okay, Henri, what did you steal from that kid?”

  Farbeaux sat back in the bench-seat of the oldest train he had ever traveled upon. He didn’t favor Carl with a look. Unlike Colonel Collins, there was very little grudging respect the navy SEAL had for Farbeaux, or vice versa. While Jack could see some form of virtue in Henri, Carl could never find any. He figured the Frenchman was always in it for himself. Perhaps Jack understood that and used Farbeaux’s greed to the Group’s benefit. Everett just couldn’t put aside the affronts that he had committed in the years gone by to Department 5656.

  “Since you refused Tram’s advice about that hospital, perhaps you should rest, as I suspect you will need it.”

  “Henri, why in the hell are you even here? You did the favor for Director Compton and assisted Van Tram in locating me, so why travel north?”

  “After all of these years, I thought that would have been obvious.” Henri leaned back and closed his eyes with that irritating smile stretched across his face.

  “Sarah. You think that if I kill Jack for shooting me, you have an open road.”

  “Okay, Mister Everett, there are two reasons that should be obvious.”

  “What is the second?” Carl asked as he eyed the Frenchman.

  “Because I gave your Director Compton m
y word. That is one resource I try to keep intact.” He finally opened his eyes as the ancient train started to slowly leave the last stop before Hanoi. “You know, it is the opinion of that little Vietnamese friend of yours that you have to be mistaken about who put those bullets into you.”

  “It was Jack. But there is something that I can’t put my finger on that has me doubting my memory.”

  “And that is?”

  “I don’t know. I said I can’t put my finger on it.”

  “Wishful thinking on your part, Captain?” Henri chuckled and that irritated Everett more than anything. “I think your Colonel Collins just may have hit, what we black operatives call, the breaking point. It happens to the best.”

  Carl sat up so fast that he winced at the pain in his abdomen. He slowly sat back. “It wouldn’t happen to Jack and you damn well know that.”

  “Break those stitches open and we may have some explaining to do to the local authorities. However, I believe you are right, my backward friend. There is something amiss here.”

  Carl waited until the pain eased somewhat in his belly. He took a deep breath and he turned to face Farbeaux. “Well?”

  “The Collins that I have come to know would never have made that one mistake,” he turned and looked at the larger American. “He would have never left you alive to even ponder the possibility that he had a breakdown.” Henri smiled at the consternated Everett. “I must admit that your friend has a few admirable qualities. One is the fact that outside of your African American buddy, Mendenhall, and that little Vietnamese fellow, Van Tram, Collins is the best shot with a firearm that I have ever seen.” His smile grew. “Besides myself, of course.”

  Carl didn’t respond. He looked out of the window at the seaside as they sped past. Henri was right. That was the one fact that had fled his memory. Jack would have placed at least one of those bullets directly into his heart, or right between his eyes. The man that shot him had been far more erratic than that. Even when hurried, Jack never missed.

  “Your friend, Van Tram, what is it he hopes to accomplish? He refused my help in investigating this event about you and Collins. He looked suspicious when you told him about your friend shooting you. It was if it was not quite a surprise to him. Even though he professed not to believe your account.”

  “Tram did enough as far as I’m concerned. He needs to stay out of this. Vietnam may be progressing in relations with the U.S., but they still have a way to go. He could have been shot for helping me. It was hard enough to talk him out of traveling north with us.”

  Farbeaux was quiet as the train started to slow and the announcement was made concerning their next stop—Hanoi. Carl had his eyes still fixed on Henri. “What’s going through that warped mind of yours?”

  “I was thinking about my intelligence days back in France. We uncovered an old program the Soviets had going in the late sixties. Though our old contacts—”

  “You mean before the Vietminh handed France their walking papers after Dien Bien Phu in 1954? You Froggies got your asses handed to you on that one.”

  “Always ready to point out my countries deficiencies, aren’t we?”

  “Always,” replied Carl.

  “As I was saying, the program revolved around look-alikes. Doubles. Since the men you are chasing seem to be of the old Soviet guard, I was wondering if they may have reinstated the program.”

  “It would explain a lot. But in the light of day, very farfetched. The man was identical to Jack. Facial scars, his manner. Perfect. No, it was Jack.”

  “Yes, but as you said, it would indeed explain a lot, Captain.”

  They fell silent as the train pulled into the new station inside the capital city of Hanoi. Everett’s hackles rose somewhat as he realized he was now inside an area very few Americans had ever seen, unless they were flying above it during the war years, or worse, dressed in little striped pajamas at the Hanoi Hilton as a prisoner of war. A feeling of unease came flooding into his soul.

  Henri was smiling again. “Don’t feel bad, Captain,” he said as he stood and retrieved his coat from the overhead, “I get the same jitters when I visit. Believe it or not, they despised us far more than they did your nation.”

  “Yes, I find that hard to believe.” Carl slowly stood.

  “Well, we should know in just a minute if Compton and Van Tram’s little skullduggery has worked. If we see more than six uniformed police officers on the platform, we can probably say Tram’s plan to get us to Hanoi didn’t pass muster, as you Americans would say.”

  They waited until most of the passengers had moved out of the car before they slowly started walking down the aisle, looking through the filthy windows as they did. For Everett, he suspected the whole of the Vietnamese intelligence arm would be waiting for them instead of the mysterious contacts they were to meet. He paused at the doorway as the train whistle blew.

  They stepped off the train and started to walk. Everett thought he could feel every eye in the capital on them as they slowly moved toward the terminal and hopefully some familiar faces. So far, he was only seeing happy, pleasant people as they moved about.

  “Hey!”

  Carl’s heart froze. Even Henri saw his life pass before his eyes just before he realized that the call-out was spoken in English.

  “Toad!” came the deep and gruff, and for Henri, the most irritating voice that he could ever have heard. “You son of a bitch!”

  Carl turned and saw the short, stubby man in the grey overalls. “Master Chief?”

  “Yeah, and sidekick, Poncho,” Master Chief Jenks bellowed as he pulled an embarrassed Will Mendenhall out in front of him.

  The Master Chief came up to Everett and took him into a bear hug. Carl felt his insides explode with pain from the assault. Jenks finally put the very much larger man down as he saw the form of Henri Farbeaux.

  “You’re keeping very salty company these days, Toad.”

  “It is good to see you also, squid-head,” Henri said as he shook hands with Will while ignoring the Master Chief’s greeting. He and Mendenhall had faced death together in the Antarctic and had come to a grudging admission that they both liked each other. A very rare event with any member of the Group, besides the feelings of Sarah McIntire.

  “Captain, you had everyone at the complex somewhat concerned the past few days,” Will said as he shook hands with Everett.

  “It has been eventful.” He looked from Will to Jenks. “What’s the story so far?”

  “As soon as we put you and me on that C-130 back home, the Master Chief is heading to Mongolia with an Air Force commando unit. It seems Mister Ryan and Sarah’s field team have gone offline. Their new implant transponders ceased operation twelve hours ago.” He turned to Henri. “Colonel, the director wished me to express his gratitude for assisting us. He offers you a ride home—free of charge, courtesy of the U.S. Air Force.”

  “And I was only supposed to help retrieve you and King Ground Pounder get the hell back home. Now I’m off to the land of nothing…goddamn sons of bitches, that damn Compton was just looking for a way to shove shit down my pants,” Jenks mumbled.

  All eyes went from the Master Chief to Farbeaux, as Carl actually held out a hand. “Thanks Froggy. You’ll have the C-130 all to yourself. I may not be able to help Tram find Jack, but I still have friends lost out there in the Gobi some place.”

  Farbeaux took the offered hand and, as Jenks looked on in distaste, shook it.

  “Always a pleasure to see you writhing in pain, Captain. Call me again the next time your best friend places some bullets into you. That is always of interest.”

  Henri half-heartedly saluted the three men and then disappeared into the crowd.

  “I don’t know why you people put up with that guy,” Jenks said as he popped a cigar into his mouth. “And you, Toad, there’s no way you can travel to bum-fuck Mongolia in your condition,” he spit onto the platform which elicited a severe look from an old peasant woman as she boarded the train south. “Why
don’t you head back to the States and I’ll take the new Major here with me.”

  “Master Chief, I believe you are a civilian engineer. I am a Captain in the United States Navy, who, at last report, out-ranked you anyway. So light up that cigar and shove it up your ass, will ya? And if the Director wants Will back home, he’s got to go. If what we discussed on the train is a possibility, this killer is targeting the field team. And I won’t miss that. So, cigar, up ass, that’s an order.”

  Mendenhall took an involuntary step back as he had never seen anyone speak to the Master Chief in the manner Carl just had.

  “Okay, okay, you don’t have to get pissy about it, Captain shithead.”

  “Gentlemen, I hate to bring this reunion to a conclusion, but you two have another train to catch. Last report from Morales and Compton said that some kind of Russian operation is gearing up north of the Mongolian border.”

  “Gearing up for what?” Everett asked.

  “Not sure yet. But Boris and Natasha are picking up heavy military movement at the border.”

  “What kind of activity?” Everett asked as Jenks sent another stream of spit onto the tracks the south bound train had just left.

  “Europa thinks it the 59th Black Sea Regiment.”

  Jenks finally removed the cigar from his mouth. “Goddamn killers are what they are. Aren’t those the bastards that attacked those kids in Syria with nerve agent?”

  No one answered his question as they knew very well who the 59th was and what they did for Vladimir Putin. They did the ugly stuff, and the Director and Europa thought they may be headed southward from the Russian border into the Gobi Desert.