Tiger by the Tail-eARC

by John Ringo;Ryan Sears

  “Grab him, Oleg! This fat fuck’s going to answer my questions!”

  Oleg had just slung his rifle and was bending to grab Sunia when the glare of high-beam headlights washed over everybody, accompanied by the squeal of tires. He looked up to see a Toyota 4-Runner speeding toward them. Two gunman popped out outside the passenger window and rear driver’s side window. They began firing long bursts from their stubby submachine guns as they closed. Tongues of orange flame spat from the muzzles as bullets sparking off the concrete all around Mike and his people. Even above the echo of the submachine guns, Oleg heard the squeal of spinning tires, and suddenly smelled burning rubber.

  “KILDAR!” Oleg whirled around and lunged for Mike, who was already leaping out of the truck’s path. It was less than ten yards away when the Team Jayne van shot out of its parking space and smashed into the driver’s side front fender. The impact shoved the higher truck into the nearest row of luxury sedans and SUVs. The 4-Runner tipped over, sending the gunman on the driver’s side flying into the air. He slammed head first into the concrete roof and fell in a lifeless heap in the middle of the lane.

  The van’s passenger door slid open, and Dmitri, Oleg’s second-in-command, shouted, “Come on!” He was still taking fire from the wrecked Toyota, the bullets making popping sounds as they punched through the van’s metal sides. Apparently some of the reinforcements had survived the crash.

  Shrugging off his rifle, Oleg ran to the rear corner of the passenger side. He made sure his weapon was ready before ducking his head around the corner to get a glimpse of the shooter. The bloody driver was standing on the wrecked truck, visible from the waist up, firing at the driver side of the van. Oleg aimed and fired a three round burst just as the man saw him and tracked over to shoot. The rounds took him in the throat and head, spraying blood on the concrete wall behind him. Triggering his weapon in a useless burst skyward, he fell back, then sagged out of sight.

  “Oleg, get inside, we’re unassing right now!” the Kildar ordered.

  “Have not collected target yet!” the huge Keldara replied as he scanned for the wounded Samoan, who seemed to have disappeared.

  “Belay that and get in here now!” Mike said.

  The Jayne team leader had just turned to head for the open passenger door when the squeal of tires alerted him to a potential new threat. Oleg turned to see a chopped and lowered bright green-and-blue Honda coupe accelerate toward him, its lights catching him in their halogen glare as a pistol extended from the driver’s window.

  Bringing his rifle up to his shoulder, Oleg braced himself and began putting short bursts through the car’s windshield. His first shots hit left of center, where he figured the driver’s chest would be. He was correct, as the car swerved immediately after he starred the glass. Oleg kept firing, hitting the center right windshield as well, then going back to the left, alternating with each burst. The car jerked again, sideswiping a few more luxury SUVs and sports cars. It finally shuddered to a stop a few yards away from the huge Keldara, its engine dying with a final wheeze. Oleg waited for anyone to dare to come out, but no one moved in the smoking, bullet-ridden car.

  He whirled on his prosthesis, ran for the passenger compartment through the hanging clouds of gunsmoke, and climbed inside.

  “Where is curly-hair?” Oleg asked as he slammed the door closed.

  “Lost him in the fight!” Mike said. “Forget him. Dmitri took a round.”

  Only then did Oleg notice that the American, Jace, was behind the wheel. The rest of the team was all crowded into the rear of the van, giving Givi just enough room to examine Dmitri’s red-stained shoulder. Each probe brought no sound of pain from the warrior, although his face was tight, and his gaze stared somewhere far off in the distance.

  “It is not good. The bullet missed his vest and broke his shoulder blade. Fragments of both the round and bone are still inside. He will need an operation. But he is in no immediate danger of bleeding out, at least.”

  “All right, we’ll get that fixed ASAP.” The Kildar peered through the cracked rear window. “No sign of pursuit. Slow it down a bit, Jace.”

  “Dmitri was lucky he only took one round; the outside of this door looks like Swiss-fucking cheese. That’s gonna raise our profile a bit,” Jace said as he pulled around a turn. “There’s the exit.”

  “Don’t stop for the gate—we barely did on the way in,” Oleg advised.

  Nodding, Jace began pressing the gas pedal down to ram their way through when a large, blocky black vehicle appeared out of nowhere, cutting off their escape route.

  “Hold on!” Slamming on the brakes, Jace threw the van into reverse and looked back, only to curse in frustration. “What do you want to do, Kildar?”

  Mike was also looking at the second heavy-duty S.W.A.T. truck that had just rolled out to block their six. Both vehicles were disgorging heavily armored Hong Kong special unit officers armed with automatic rifles. “First, nobody move.” He leaned around Jace to see the same thing happening ahead of them.

  In less than twenty seconds, the van was encircled by a ring of lethal-looking cops, all aiming assault rifles at the van. Two of the helmeted, masked officers parted for a short, paunchy Asian in a rumpled, tan, summer-weight suit and a salt-and-pepper crew cut to approach. He walked up to the driver’s door and rapped his knuckles on the cracked window, which shattered into hundreds of fragments at his touch.

  Jace smiled at him. “What seems to be the problem, officer?” he asked in flawless Mandarin. He held his pistol with the hammer back below the window, ready to shoot the polite cop in the face if he was had to. Since the only realistic outcome of that was a swift death, he really hoped he wouldn’t have to shoot the guy.

  The officer’s own smile was tight as he held up his identification card and badge. “My name is Sergeant Fang Gui, Criminal Intelligence Bureau, Hong Kong Police. I understand that a gentleman named Mr. Mike Jenkins is inside this vehicle, and that he was a witness to a rather unfortunate accident in a lower level of this parking garage. I would like him to accompany me to our station to answer a few questions. He is not under arrest, and will be free the station to leave at any time. However, his cooperation in this matter would be most appreciated.”

  “Just a moment, please.” Jace turned and translated the information to Mike, who peered around the seat at the man with a puzzled frown. The Kildar looked back into the cargo compartment of the van. Filled with heavily armed Keldara, a prostitute, and a black marketeer, it stank of blood, sweat and burned powder. Despite what had just gone down, all of them—even Dmitri—looked ready to go if he gave the order.

  “Stand down, all of you,” Mike said in Keldara before turning back to the police sergeant.

  “Okay, let’s go.”

  Chapter Ten

  “I do not fucking believe this!”

  An hour later, Jace watched in incredulity as Mike was politely shown into an interrogation room. He was followed by the officer who had stopped them in the International Commerce Center’s underground parking facility.

  The last sixty minutes had passed as if in a dream. Not only were Jace, Katya, Soon Yi, Arun Than, and the rest of the Keldara not arrested, they weren’t even made to get out of the battered, shot-up van. Instead, Mike was allowed to debark, with Jace and Katya accompanying him, and they were all taken under guard to the May House skyscraper, in the Wan Chai District on Hong Kong Island. There, Jace and Katya cooled their heels in a hallway while Sergeant Fang was speaking with the Kildar. They had both been perfunctorily searched, and were clean, having left their pistols in the van. The police had missed their camouflaged earpieces, and had even left them their cell phones.

  Katya slouched in the hard-backed plastic chair. “So what is problem? We are not under arrest, correct?”

  “Keep your voice down,” Jace muttered out of the side of his mouth as two officers walked past. “That is the problem. Nobody is under arrest after a run-and-gun battle, along with at least four premeditate
d murders, which is what those self-defense takedowns would look like to the HK cops? I haven’t even counted the several charges of assault and battery, not to mention a pair of kidnapping offenses once they talked to Soon Yi and Arun Than. By all rights we should be headed to China Ferry Terminal, and then a short trip to Stanley Prison to await our ‘trial.’ That we’re being treated as actual witnesses, or even guests, means the HK Police have something else in mind for us.”

  Jace’s earpiece crackled, then he heard Vanner’s voice. “Team River, this is Firefly, over.”

  Jace pulled out his cell phone and leaned over it, elbows on his knees, pretending to be engrossed in something. “This is River One. Before continuing, I cannot guarantee there are not ears on us.”

  “Understood, but I wouldn’t worry about it,” Vanner replied. “We are all clear of the op building. The room was sanitized. Your current position is on the eleventh floor of the May House building, correct?”

  “Correct. How’s Dmitri?”

  “He’s in surgery right now. Thanks for the tip on that doctor, it made that situation a lot easier. Are you getting anything from the pen camera?”

  “Shit! In all the excitement, I forgot to check.” Jace thumbed through his screens until he found the picture of the police sergeant reading some papers. “Got it. I can’t believe they didn’t confiscate it.”

  “Do you have sound?”

  Jace turned his phone’s volume up, and heard the rustle of the page as the sergeant turned it. “Yeah.”

  “All right, I’m going to try using your phone as a boosting antenna so I can pick up the signal. We’re a couple blocks away, but I can’t get a solid fix on the Kildar’s position. This may drain your piece’s battery faster.”

  “Great.” Jace saw activity on the screen and watched as a third person entered the room. “Must be the officer who serves tea and takes notes. Whatever you’re going to do, do it fast—they’re about to start.”

  Jace hadn’t finished talking before the sergeant started with the date. “Sergeant Fang Gui of the Hong Kong Criminal Intelligence Bureau, speaking with Mr. Michael Jenkins, an American citizen—” Glancing at Mike for confirmation, he continued off the other man’s nod, “—currently living in the country of Georgia. I am taking his statement regarding his witnessing of a traffic accident in the underground carport at the International Commerce Center, One Austin Road West, Kowloon, Hong Kong. Let the record show that Mr. Jenkins is not under arrest at this time, nor is he suspected of any unlawful activity.”

  Jace’s brows rose at that. What game is this guy playing? “Was he blind? Surely the garage had security cameras?”

  “They did, but we circumvented them once we knew where Sunia was going,” Vanner said in his ear. “No sense having everyone watching what was going on down there.”

  “Right.” Jace returned his attention to the screen, where Sergeant Fang was offering Mike a beverage. He chose coffee, while Fang opted for tea, and said something to the lower-ranking officer as he rose to fetch the drinks.

  “What was that?” Katya asked, having slid over to watch as well.

  “He said, ‘take your time.’” Jace’s frown deepened. “Now we’ll learn what screws are about to be turned, and how deep. Firefly, are you receiving?”

  “Roger, although it comes and goes.”

  “I’m sure Mike will fill in any gaps.”

  The sergeant regarded Mike steadily as he talked. “First of all, thank you for agreeing to come to our office, Mr. Jenkins.”

  Mike’s stare was just as steady right back at the man. “You extended an invitation that I really couldn’t refuse.”

  “Quite. Now that we are alone, I wish to speak to you about Issako Sunia.”

  “Never met the man.”

  “Your protestations or denials are of no consequence. As I said, you are not under arrest.”

  “So, I could just get up and walk out of here,” Mike replied.

  Fang’s eyes narrowed. “You could. However, I doubt that you or the rest of your companions would get very far.”

  Mike leaned forward. “You do not want to play ‘threaten the foreigner’ with me. Believe me, it won’t work.”

  “Your name is not unknown to us, Mr. Jenkins.” The lieutenant smiled thinly. “You and your people have quite a reputation among certain intelligence circles. I know that the governments of several countries—powerful countries—handle you very delicately after a particular action in Albania. However, no one, including my own government, is willing to say why.” He consulted a piece of paper on the table. “This is the answer I received from my superiors after a standard inquiry about you. Quote: ‘Mr. Jenkins is considered a good friend of the Chinese people, and every courtesy should be extended to him at all bureaucratic and law enforcement levels.’”

  He set the paper back down and regarded Mike. “Are you aware of what you have to do to be considered ‘a friend of the Chinese people’?”

  “Not generally, no.”

  “Neither am I. In fact, I’ve never even seen such a communiqué until this one arrived. Whoever you are, you have very powerful friends.”

  Mike simply shrugged.

  “Do I need to know what he’s talking about?” Jace whispered.

  “No, and for your sake, hope that you never do,” Vanner replied.

  Fang continued. “Then there is that matter of the incident in the mountains of Georgia. It has been described as an incredible stand of your people against an overwhelming force of Chechens. Your side was victorious in yet another mysterious mission, this time earning the thanks of Russia, I believe.”

  Mike’s jaw worked, but he shrugged again. “Your point?”

  “So, I am aware of who you are, whom you know, and what you can do. I have no desire to let this particular situation spin any more out of control any more than it already has.” Fang rubbed his chin. “This may be difficult to believe, Mr. Jenkins, but I am trying to work with you, not against you.”

  “So far, the only evidence I’ve seen of that is that I’m not in jail, another thing you do not want to happen. If you really are on the level, why don’t you tell me what the hell is going on, and why two tac-assault teams just happened to be hanging around the mall in the ICC an hour ago while I was there.”

  “Fair enough. You happened to stumble into an ongoing investigation of Mr. Sunia and his activities in the city. We have been amassing evidence to arrest and subvert him in going after other triads and gangs in Hong Kong. The package that he was so desperate to obtain drew him to the attention of the Counter-Terrorism and Internal Security Division, which has been liaisoning with my department regarding this recent development.”

  “Right. So, if he has the package, you can go arrest him, case closed.”

  Fang’s smile this time was as cold as Mike’s when he was on mission. “Unfortunately, it is not so simple. Possession of that particular material is a grave crime, both here and in the People’s Republic of China. Without naming any names—” He cocked his head at Mike, “—we know who currently possesses that material. We need to learn who in China has high enough clearance to have access to it, as well as whom are they selling it to. With Sunia no doubt lying low after the—accident—in the carport, there still remains the problem of keeping the package moving along to its final destination.”

  Mike blinked. “Am I hearing you correctly?”

  “I believe so.” Fang consulted his watch. “In approximately five minutes, we will be releasing Mr. Than with our profuse apologies for detaining him. Once that is done, we will release you shortly thereafter. We would like you to contact him and set up a time and place to complete your exchange. Once that is done, we will step in to arrest Mr. Than, having seen him accept the stolen materials, and continue our investigation from there. You will be free to continue on your way, and would have the thanks of the Hong Kong police, and its government, to take with you.”

  “What about the incident in the garage?”

>   “We’re already spinning it as a shootout between two rival gangs, with no mention of any foreigners involved. The local newspapers are filled with such stories on a regular basis. The public will accept that, and it will fade away soon enough.”

  “All right, let Than know, and us as well.” Mike rose to leave.

  Fang rose as well. “Then you will assist us?”

  “I didn’t say that. It will help me if you put it out that we were held overnight, but released due to lack of evidence. After that gets around, I have to talk to Than and see if he’s even willing to still deal with us after all this.”

  “I am sure that Mr. Than and you will come to some kind of arrangement. You are both businessmen, after all.” The police officer’s mouth quirked up in a wry smile. “Besides, if everything else fails, you can always mention that you most likely saved his life tonight.”

  “Yeah, and not just once, either.”

  Fang extended a business card. “Call me when everything’s ready.”

  Mike took it with a cool smile. “I still haven’t agreed to do anything for you.”

  Fang’s smile mirrored his. “But I have every confidence that you will make the right decision.”

  * * *

  “…and that’s it in a nutshell, Bob,” Mike said. “Uncle Sam is definitely not the only ones interested in these chips.”

  “Of course not. The fact China’s tracking them doesn’t surprise me at all. However, I am surprised at how fast they got on to you.”

  “Supposedly they were already tracking the guy who had stolen the chips in the first place. He hunted us down as we were talking to Than, and the Hong Kong PD came along for the ride.”

  “Do you buy that story?”

  “It’s as plausible as anything else China puts out in the press,” Mike replied. “Of course, given that business in Armenia, I’d imagine they want to keep an eye on me, too. Still, if you guys have anything on this Fang Gui, I’d love to see it.”

  “I’ll see what I can turn up.” Pierson jotted the name down, then leaned back in his chair and rubbed his temples. “This Myanmar intel, how sure are you about it?”