by Jon Mills
She was half listening to what he was saying, and half paying attention to the comings and goings of the women. She saw several of them led out back by some of the bouncers.
“I’m going to talk a walk.”
“Oh shit, I thought this was going to be reconnaissance?”
“It is.” She placed her drink down and began navigating her way through the mass of sweaty bodies. It was humid inside. Very little air was coming out of the vents. When she made it to the doors a large guy who’d been talking to some skinny, half-dressed girl stepped in front of her.
“I was just looking for the washroom.”
He gestured with a nod. “It’s over there.”
The door in front of her opened and for a brief second she glimpsed what was going on behind it. Several girls came out wiping their mouths. Some of them had white dust around their nostrils.
“How does one get in there?”
“VIP,” he replied.
She backed away and slipped back into the crowd, knowing that getting past security wasn’t going to be easy. She went up a few steps and looked above the crowd, and then something caught her eye — a tall man walking with purpose towards the back area. He looked out of place, unlike the bouncers he wasn’t Chinese, and yet he seemed to be moving at a fair clip. In the darkness of the club it was hard to see his face but then as the light struck the side, her eyes widened.
It was Jack Winchester.
Chapter 33
It was about to become a bloodbath.
After loading up on ammo that afternoon, Jack had spent the better part of the day hunkered down in an Internet café, bringing up everything he could find on Sheng Ping. He just needed to know what he looked like. It wasn’t like it was back in the day when Gafino would give him a hit. Back then he would have a clear idea of how many men he would be going up against. He’d be given a photo and all the stats on his target. He would have scoped out establishments, kept track of timetables, and determined the best time to move in with minimal risk.
The odds were stacked against him for sure but the sooner he could find out where the kid was being kept the quicker he could put this all behind him. Killing the two men on the side door had been fast and silent. After purchasing ammo, he had picked up a silencer for the Desert Eagle. Two rounds to the head and he was in. His duffel bag was tucked away down the alley. He moved with purpose through the people, his eyes fixed on the door to the VIP lounge. After making it inside, he’d watched the flow of women.
As he approached another one of Sheng’s men, the guy glanced at him. In one smooth motion, Jack reached behind his back and pulled out a large serrated knife. The man stretched out his arm instinctively as he had done to anyone who got too close and wasn’t invited. Jack just plowed into him, pressing his hand firmly over his mouth and jabbing the blade three times into his stomach before removing it and jamming it up into his head. The guy slumped down. Jack wiped the knife on his jacket. He turned to see if anyone was paying attention but they weren’t. They were so focused on the music, drugs, and alcohol. No one cared.
At least that’s what he thought until he caught sight of a Caucasian woman looking at him from across the room. Her eyes widened. He might not have given a second thought to it, if she hadn’t pulled a Glock and yelled FBI.
Moving as fast as lightning, he pulled the door open and closed it. On the other side was a lock. He rotated it and then turned to find himself face-to-face with two more bouncers.
Before they managed to get a word out he slit the one man’s throat and shot the other guy twice in the chest. They collapsed to the floor and he pressed forward. The clock was against him now. The place would be swarming with cops in a matter of minutes, never mind that the FBI agent would be on his ass.
A few half-naked girls screamed at the sight of the thick blood pooling around the men. Another man shot into view with a gun and Jack grabbed his wrist, forced it upwards, and head-butted him in the face. His nose burst like a fire hydrant. A shot to the chest and he collapsed.
The corridor he found himself in had rooms either side. Everything was black except for lights that flashed on and off like a camera flash but in one continual loop, and with multiple colors. The music beat hard as he slammed a door open with his foot, only to find a man giving it to a girl in the ass. He didn’t wait, one by one he booted the doors down. But most were just businessmen getting the freak on.
The tune blaring over the speakers was so loud no one paid attention to the final cries of men as Jack jammed his blade up into rib cages with brutal force, or slammed it hard into the necks of those who should have been paying attention to the stranger.
Jack heard the sound of a gun behind him. Two shots, then a third. It was the FBI agent trying to blast her way in. Best of luck! He picked up his pace as he moved through and came face-to-face with another. This time he forced the man up against the wall with the blade tight against his jugular.
“Where is Sheng Ping?”
Fear and rage made the man’s eyes bulge.
“Where?”
He motioned with his eyes towards another set of doors as if that would save him. It didn’t. Jack sliced his throat and pressed on. He took out the gun, and pushed his blade into his waistband. Turning a corner, two men went for their weapons beneath their jackets. Their blood painted the door with a crimson spray.
As he pushed into the room, his eyes swept over the mass of naked bodies parading around. Some men were snorting cocaine off women’s tits, while others were engaging in oral sex. His eyes caught sight of Sheng Ping, then the Chinese man from the roof. As he wheeled his arm up to shoot, the guy tossed something at it. It was a small blade that hit his hand causing him to drop his weapon. Moving with all the speed of a gazelle, the man from the roof drove into him with a flying knee kick that sent Jack back against the wall. Jack parried his blows with a series of sidesteps and kicks. The guy couldn’t have been half his size and weight. Jack grabbed him by the neck and flung him into a tropical fish tank. The glass shattered and water burst out sending fish all over the granite floor. All hell broke loose as scantily clad women ran for safety. Embarrassed and scared businessmen made a beeline for exits, leaving Jack and the man to battle it out.
As he held him to the floor, Jack screamed in his face.
“Where’s the boy?”
He smashed his fist three times into his face.
“Where is he?”
He smiled back with blood in his mouth. Jack rained another series of blows into his face. The man counter-attacked with a jab to Jack’s eyes and a kick that sent him flying back. This guy had more moves than a monkey on a high wire. Then Jack screamed in agony as the man drove another one of his small knives into his side.
Rage overtook Jack.
He grabbed the man by the throat, they stumbled back and he tossed him up against the wall, breaking glass in the process. Sliding the man along the wall, the glass embedded in his back, he continued to pummel him like a slab of meat.
The guy flipped around, clamped his legs around Jack’s head, and dropped down below him, sending Jack into a spin. He collided with lights that came crashing down. On the floor he saw the man approaching, his feet nimble and fast like a deer in a full sprint. He reached towards his waistband and yanked the blade slashing the air as his leg came in and impacted his wrist, knocking the blade out.
A scissor kick to the face and Jack fell back onto a mosaic glass table, collapsing it. He blinked hard and saw the Desert Eagle across the floor. Sliding off in pain with glass chunks in his arm, he felt the man lunge again, though this time he attacked from behind as Jack crawled across to get the gun. He placed some sort of wire around Jack’s neck and was beginning to choke him. Jack rose with the guy on his back. His fingers raked at his neck trying to get behind the wire but it dug deep into skin. Coughing and spluttering he ran backwards, smashing the man’s back into an exposed brick wall, but he didn’t let up. Jack was beginning to see darkness coming in at t
he side of his eyes. Backward and forward he tried to pry the man loose but he was holding on for dear life.
Jack reached around to the man’s face, then stuck his thumbs into his eyes. A shriek, then he felt the wire loosen. He tossed him over onto the ground. He’d never felt so enraged. One hand on his throat, he dragged him across the floor towards his gun.
Just as he placed his hand on the grip he heard:
“FBI. Put it down, now.”
Both he and the Chinese man cut a glance upward to see the female agent and another man aiming Glocks at them.
“Winchester, let him go and back away.”
Jack tightened his grip on the Desert Eagle. His jaw clenched.
“You let them him go now, and you won’t find Sheng or the kid.”
“Back away.”
Jack was about to release him when three Chinese guys came in and started unloading rounds behind the woman and the guy. Both of them took the hit and collapsed. Jack pulled up his weapon and fired back at them. However, in that moment, as he took his eyes off the man below him, the guy slammed a piece of mosaic glass into Jack’s leg causing him to scream in agony and release his grip. As he collapsed to the ground behind furniture, the air was filled with bullets. He watched the guy duck out of sight. Coughing and spluttering, Jack rolled to his side between two chairs and fired at the three guys. A bullet in the head, two in the chest, and another one in the leg and all three went down.
Staggering to his feet, he gripped his side. A piece of glass stuck out of his thigh, he winced as he pulled it free. He was about to follow after the Chinese guy when he looked back at the FBI agents. The woman was still breathing. Who the hell was she?
He walked over to the thug writhing around on the floor and put one in his head. Approaching the FBI agent, he reached down and dug around for her badge.
He flipped it open.
Isabel Baker. New York FBI? You are a little far from your jurisdiction.
She was attractive, dark hair and dark brown eyes. A physique that had been cared for.
She murmured. He tore her shirt open and noticed she was wearing a vest. She wasn’t in critical condition but she had been shot in the arm and back. The vest had protected her against the one in the back. He cast a glance over at the man who seemed to be in the same state, though he appeared to have been less fortunate. A bullet had torn through his back just below the vest.
Jack turned back to Isabel as her eyes began to flutter.
“You’ll live.”
He got up, scooped up another handgun, and exited through the steel back door.
Outside in the alleyway, Sheng was gone. He gritted his teeth, retrieved his bag from behind a dumpster, and slipped away into the darkness as the sound of sirens echoed.
Chapter 34
Sheng Ping was livid. He paced the room, hands balled.
“How did he manage to get that close?”
“Sir, it was—”
Sheng smacked the man across the face, not allowing him to finish. He was tired of listening to excuses. No one had ever insulted him, or come that close to killing him. He cast a glance at Yu who looked on with empty eyes. Had it not been for his quick action, he would have been dead.
In all the years of operating in Chinatown he had seen hit men attempt to take him out. Some were hired by local rival gangs, others were just tired of dealing with his men, though none had breached his establishments. He could barely contain his rage. Not only had INS screwed him over and police were breathing down his neck, but now he had this to contend with.
“Is it too much to ask to have one man killed? One fucking man?”
This was unacceptable.
Teddy Wu remained silent. He knew better than to interrupt him. He’d killed men for less. He had a reputation to maintain. Word would soon get out that he had become a target. If he didn’t deal with this in a swift manner, he’d be reaping the repercussions for years to come.
“I don’t pay you a lot of money to train guys who fail to do their job.”
“I’m sorry, Sheng. It won’t happen again.”
“How do you expect to turn this around?”
Teddy looked down at the ground. “He saw me at the club. He’ll come for me.”
“You know this man?”
His eyes dropped again. “He showed up at my place a while back. Shot two of my men. It was to do with my ex. I tried to stop him but this guy is different. I barely escaped with my limbs intact.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me?”
A look of embarrassment crept over his face. Of course he wouldn’t. He didn’t want to suffer the humiliation of having been whipped in his own home. This had to end now. The thought passed through his mind to put a bounty out on his head. He’d done it a few times before. Los Angeles could become a very small place when every gang member was on the lookout for someone.
Sheng turned and grasped him by the neck, squeezing tightly. Teddy’s eyes bulged.
“I should rip your fucking throat out right now.”
Sheng shifted his gaze to Yu across the room and released his grip. Teddy fell on his knees gasping for air.
“You say he asked for the boy?”
He nodded.
“Zhang?”
“Do you want me to kill him?” Teddy asked.
“If you could have killed him you would have. No, if he wants the boy, let’s give him the boy. Send for Zhang.”
Yu nodded and exited the office. Sheng went over to a glass decanter full of auburn liquid and poured two fingers. He downed it in one go, then refilled it trying to calm his nerves. He could see Teddy was full of questions. He regretted ever placing him on payroll. Nevertheless, he would serve a purpose even if it got him killed in the process.
Medics brought out agents Banks and Cooper on stretchers along with those who had been injured in the crossfire. Deon grasped her hand.
“You’re going to be fine.”
“Of course I am. It was Winchester. He was here.” She sighed heavily. “We had him in our sights. Moments away from bringing him in and then this.”
“Don’t worry about it. We’ll be searching for him.”
“He’s going after Sheng Ping. You need to find him.”
Easier said than done. The guy was a snake that seemed to be able to move around the city unnoticed. People were too afraid to speak out against him. Those that did paid with their lives. Deon watched as they loaded them into the ambulance and whisked them away to a nearby hospital. He walked into the nightclub, followed another officer into the VIP lounge, and looked around at the carnage.
Blood smeared the walls. Glass and furniture smashed. Thousands upon thousands dollars of damage. Why risk coming into here for a boy?
He’d tried to speak with John Dalton again but hadn’t managed to get much more out of him than a grunt and the same story. There was definitely more he wasn’t saying.
“Check all the hospitals and clinics, if he was injured he is probably looking for treatment,” he said. “Oh, and put out an APB on Sheng Ping and Jack Winchester.”
Deon blew out his cheeks as he cast his gaze over the mess. He hadn’t seen this type of violence in over six years. Back then it was Crips and Bloods; a non-stop war that filled the streets with blood.
From street level he glanced up at the apartment and scaled the fire escape. Jack broke into an apartment that looked empty. He hadn’t done that in years. Back when he was a kid running around the streets of New Jersey, he and a few friends would keep an eye out for homes that left one light on. It was a clear giveaway that the owner was out for the night or on vacation. They weren’t always right. He chuckled thinking of the time an old guy came out swinging a baseball bat. It scared the living shit out of them.
Right now he just needed to find something to bandage up his leg. Get a little ice on his wounds. Maybe some shut-eye.
Inside he checked all the rooms. It looked as if a couple owned it. No kids. Photos on a side table showed a pair
that was in their early twenties. He glanced around at the modern furniture and décor before going into the kitchen and pulling the fridge open. There were two bottles of beer inside. He took one out and rolled it over his neck. The cold felt good. Popping the lid off he chugged it down allowing it to numb some of the pain.
After, he stumbled into the bathroom and yanked the medicine cabinet open. He pulled out the drawers, but there was nothing he could use except a few creams. There were no bandages so he had to go into their linen closet and tear up a bedsheet. He rolled his jeans down and examined the bloodied wound using his finger to pry it open and see how deep it was. It hadn’t gone in far. A few inches at the most. He created a pad with the sheet and laid it on top, then tied it off. He winced at the pressure.
Once done, he returned to the kitchen and pulled out a tray of ice. He smacked it against the countertop and dumped all the cubes into the sink. He used another piece of sheet to create his own makeshift ice bag. He tied it off, took his beer, and went back into the living area. Slumping down in a La-Z-Boy recliner, he elevated his leg and chugged down more beer.
He wished Eddie was still alive. He still had so many questions. He closed his eyes and drifted back through his memories to the days when Eddie taught him Krav Maga, and various other forms of martial arts.
You are only going to learn what is useful. The key is to remain fluid, and not be constrained by what is ineffective. Don’t swing when a direct punch will do. Don’t kick, when you can punch. Use your teeth. Do as much damage as you can as quickly as you can. Use any item that’s around you as a weapon.
But it wasn’t the brutality of Krav Maga that he liked the most. It was the simplicity of Aikido. Using opponents’ force against them. He never imagined how useful it would all become. How he wished he’d listened to Eddie when he was a kid instead of being sucked into Gafino’s underground world. He had been cocky and reckless. While he was hurting people for the wrong reasons, Eddie was doing it for the right ones. Could atonement be found that way? Helping others even if it meant hurting others?