by John Ringo
“I don’t trust her, that is what matters. We shall see.” Katya turned to the door and crossed her arms.
“Yeah, I bet you get that feeling a lot.” Jace did the same with his arms and leaned against the wall.
* * *
The moment the door closed, Soon Yi’s demeanor altered completely.
“Come on, come on, get up!” Appearing to care for the beaten pirate, she roughly hoisted him up, slinging an arm over her shoulder as she half-carried, half-dragged him to the bathroom. Yeung Tony’s head lolled on his shoulders as he moved.
“What . . . what’s going on?” The words were muffled, partly from his swollen jaw, partly because he was half-conscious.
Still holding on to him with one arm, Soon turned the cold sink tap on with the other. “What’s going on is that you’re going to set up this meeting with Arun Than for the gwai-lo!” she hissed.
“What are you—”
Before he could finish, she bent him over and plunged his head under the tap. The pirate twisted and tried to squirm away, but Soon Yi had twisted his other arm up to his shoulder blade. It was the one the man had worked on with the hammer, and she noted the broken fingers had been expertly splinted and bound. After ten seconds, she let him up.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Tony gasped after spluttering and choking for a few seconds.
“Trying to save your worthless life, dog,” she muttered into his ear, just above the running water. “Just do what they say and set up the damn meeting.”
“Why should I do that? So that setan can put a bullet in my head? Why are you here? Are you working for them now?”
Soon twisted his arm higher, making the man gasp in pain. “I’m working for myself, no one else. If you give them what they want, I can ensure that you will not only get off this boat in one piece, but you’ll be extradited to Indonesia, or maybe even back to Malay, rather than standing trial for armed robbery and murder in China—”
“What? What are you talking about? Why wouldn’t they try me for piracy?”
“Because, you stupid pig, China doesn’t have any antipiracy laws! Instead, they try a person for the related crimes committed during an act of piracy. You stand trial for those multiple counts of kidnapping and murder, and you won’t get a slap on the wrist—you’ll go to prison for life if you’re lucky, or receive the death sentence if not. But take their offer, and I can get you out of Hong Kong and into an easier court to the south.”
“How the fuck are you going to do that? Who are you?”
“That’s not important. What’s important is how badly you want to live.”
Soon kept him bent over the sink for a few moments, letting the thug think his situation through. After a few seconds, he nodded. “All right. I’ll do it.”
“And not a fucking word to any of the gwai-los or I’ll feed you to the sharks myself. Just smile and do whatever they say, you got it?”
Tony nodded again, then jerked as Soon tore a strip of cloth from his tattered shirt.
“All right, let’s get you cleaned up a bit, so it looks like I actually took care of your worthless ass.” She began wiping the dried blood and snot off his face. After a few minutes’ work, she led him back to the chair and sat him down. “Remember, no bullshit, no funny business. Set the meeting, and tell them both you and I will be there. I’ll handle it from there.”
Cleaned up, Tony seemed to have gotten a bit of his fire back, even as beaten as he was. “Why should I trust you?”
“Because you do not have any other choice.” She turned from him, walked to the door, and knocked. It opened to reveal Katya’s unsmiling face.
“He will make the call,” Soon said.
* * *
A few minutes later, Jace, Vanner, and Katya were all hunched over a computer, trying to watch the conversation between Soon Yi and Yeung Tony.
“Can you remove the running water?” Jace asked. “With them talking in the bathroom, I can’t see her lips move. Not that I’d be able to read them speaking Mandarin or Cantonese anyway, but I also can’t hear shit over it.”
“We’re trying, but she wasn’t speaking very loudly in the first place, so the water’s drowning out their conversation. We’re lucky we picked up anything at all,” Vanner replied.
“Wait a minute. Tony is speaking normally there.” Katya replayed a snippet of the feed. “What did he just say?”
Jace listened to it twice more to be sure.
“He’s asking her what the fuck she’s doing. He sounds surprised. An odd reaction, particularly if they’re supposed to be as close as she claims they are.”
Katya glared at the frozen picture of the woman on the monitor.
“Something about this woman is not right, but I cannot put my finger on it.”
“Maybe you should chemically interrogate her,” Vanner suggested.
Katya shook her head.
“That is too unreliable. If she is another operator, she will have been taught how to nullify the effects. And besides, she has gotten us what we wanted. I will simply keep a close eye on her during the operation.” She smiled tightly. “It looks like the Kildar will have me on retainer for a few more days.” Katya headed for the door. “Keep trying to wash the audio, and send me the best version you can get.”
Jace exchanged a look with Vanner, both men sharing the same thought: Oh, boy.
* * *
A few hours later, Jace walked down the hall to the Kildar’s office. The door was ajar, and he heard two voices inside; Mike’s, and another woman’s. It sounded like a logistics meeting, but from the flow of the conversation, it seemed that the young woman was doing most of the talking, with the Kildar providing “yesses” and “no’s” when appropriate. Jace stood a respectful distance away, and waited for them to finish.
A few minutes later, the door opened and a tall girl walked out, maybe twenty years old if she was a day, and just as model-gorgeous as the rest of them. “Mr. Morgan,” she said as she passed him in the hallway. Once again, Jace had to almost pinch himself at the scenario he’d found himself in.
Fuck, what’s her name? Vanner had introduced her to him earlier as the Kildar’s administrative assistant. As with all admin personnel, Jace figured he’d better get it right, or he’d be screwed in the future—and not in a good way.
“. . . Hello, Daria,” he got out just in time as she walked down the hall.
“Come in, Captain. Something I can do for you?” Jace walked in to find Mike wiping a smile off his face.
“Something humorous come to mind, sir?”
Mike shook his head once.
“No, it’s . . . I just realized with your rank, well, ‘Captain Morgan.’ I’m sure you got enough hell from your fellow team members.”
“It was all in fun, sir—and it did get me more than a few rounds of free drinks. But everyone on my teams was always mission-first and foremost.”
“Of course. What did you wish to see me about?”
“I have that update on the Chinese black market operations, including a focus on Hong Kong. I can send the file to your tablet if you wish, or we can go over it here and now.”
“Send me the report, but why don’t you give me the highlights right now. In particular, is there anything we need to be concerned about going into the city?”
“Yes, sir. The primary issue will be the firearms. Hong Kong has very strict gun control laws, with heavy prison sentences for anyone convicted of possessing an illegal firearm.”
“Well, ours are legally obtained and licensed, as far as that goes.”
“Yes, as a militia in Georgia, you’re fine. In Hong Kong, not so much.”
“But let me guess—criminals in the city have little to no problem obtaining black market guns whenever they wish.”
“Like most of China, just about anything can be obtained if a person is willing to pay the price. Depending on the sort of officer or bureaucrat we encounter, we might be able to bribe our way out of a simple possession
charge. But if we are caught pulling the trigger, getting away with it will be almost impossible. Given your connections with the U.S. government, if we are detained on a weapons-related charge, kicking this to higher-ups could be as much hindrance as help—”
“Particularly when the red tape starts spinning. The Chinese would love that; semi-rogue American ex-military running amuck in Hong Kong. I’m very aware of the bureaucracy issues. Along with news coverage, that’s one of the things they pay me very well to avoid whenever possible. I only bring in the big government dogs in a situation that I cannot handle, or I suspect might spin out of even my control. Not that that ever happens, of course.”
Jace smiled and nodded.
“Regarding our meeting, it looks like the on-site team will have to go in soft, with the assault team held in reserve nearby,” Mike continued. “Besides, there are plenty of ways to obtain guns from the other side—sometimes even while they’re carrying them. Anything else?”
“Not so much. As we are foreign tourists, we are supposed to report to the police within twenty-four hours of our arrival. However, I expect that you will want to forgo that little request.”
“You expect right.”
“Okay then. As to your other request: Arun Than. Not a lot to say about him on the record. He’s what’s called a fixer in local parlance: he brokers deals between parties looking to buy and sell for a cut of the payment. Usually he never holds anything for either party, just serves as the go-between. He’s well connected throughout the entire Asian region, from Shanghai to Mumbai, and points north and south as well. He can move just about anything: currency, gems, gold, merchandise, cigarettes, even vehicles. His latest claim to fame was organizing the transport of a brand-new fifty-foot cigarette boat from the western side of China to Shanghai by truck, with absolutely no record of it ever happening. Everyone I’ve spoken to vouches for him, says he’s a stand-up guy who will deal straight with parties on both sides of the transaction.”
“And here I thought there was no honor among thieves,” Mike said.
“Yeah, well, that and ten yuan will get you a cup of green tea in Shanghai. The most important thing to remember, sir, is that mianzi, or ‘face’ counts for a lot in this area of the world.”
“I am aware of that.”
“Of course, sir, however, what you may not be aware of is just how much of an Asian’s very psyche is tied up in both it and guanxi, their version of social networking, which works very differently than for us Americans. For example, they might say ‘yes’ to a request, or defer it to a superior, although their manner and body language might be clearly saying ‘no.’ That means that the request isn’t going to happen, but they feel the relationship is worth keeping enough to at least pay lip service to whatever is being asked for.”
“I understand that the Chinese and Japanese almost never say ‘no’ straight out.”
“Exactly. They’ll tell you just about anything else, from ‘we will take that under consideration’ to ‘I’ll have to discuss this with my superiors’ or ‘that may not be very convenient.’ The reason I’m bringing this up now is that I have heard that you are, well—the best way to put it is direct when you want to get something done.”
“My reputation is preceding me again. Yes, since I find it’s often the best way to handle a situation.”
“Yes, sir, and in many cases I would agree. After all, we Marines are also typically not known for our delicate cultural sensibilities.” Jace grinned. “However, Recon does things a bit differently. That’s why we were so successful here during the Vietnam Conflict compared to other branches of the military. From General Tony Zinni’s experiences as part of the Marine Advisory Group in country to his work during operation Provide Comfort after the first Gulf War, our mindset has always been to learn from and work with an indigenous populace whenever possible.”
“Which I agree with completely,” Mike replied. “Typically, I am polite as long as they are. When they are not, neither am I. Satisfactory?”
“Yes, sir.”
Mike nodded. “All right. I’ll take a look at your report, and let you know if I have any other questions.”
“Yes, sir.” Jace started to rise, then hesitated.
“Something else on your mind?”
“Yes . . . permission to speak freely, sir?”
Mike frowned. “Granted, and next time you don’t have to ask. What’s up?”
“It’s about that pirate. He was worked over pretty good.”
Mike leaned forward and rested his elbows on his desk. “Do you have a problem with my methods?”
Jace shook his head. “Not at all, sir. While I was pulling the market report, I also did some digging on him. Assault, armed robbery, drug smuggling, rape, kidnapping, sex slavery—that fucker would do anything to turn a buck. By the time I was finished, I was ready to go down there and spend some quality time with him myself.”
“‘Quality time.’ That’s good. So, what’s the issue?” Mike asked.
“I was simply wondering what the chain-of-command is on that sort of interrogation.”
“Ah.” Mike leaned back in his chair. “All interrogations of any kind are carried out by me. I decide what degree of force to use and when to apply it. While I lead from the front, and would never ask anyone under my command to do anything that I wouldn’t do, neither will I ask anyone to do something they are unwilling to do. In my experience, interrogations, particularly ones of that nature, often fall into that category. Are we clear?”
“Perfectly, sir.”
The Kildar leaned forward again, his expression as dark and cold as a Georgian winter.
“Besides, if I asked anyone else to do it, I would deprive myself of the pleasure, and that is something I simply will not do. The bottom line, Captain, is that I’m not a nice man. I just play one on TV.”
“Understood, sir.”
And just like that, the darkness vanished, and Mike was his regular self again.
“All right then, let me know if there’s anything else you need.”
“Not at this time, thanks.”
“Glad we had this little chat.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
A little more than ten hours later, the Big Fish dropped anchor three nautical miles away from Victoria Harbor and the city of Hong Kong. Jace, Adams, Katya, and several of the Keldara stood on the starboard side, staring at the illuminated skyline glowing like a beacon of civilization in the darkness.
“Father of All . . .” Vanel breathed. “It lights up the entire night sky.”
“It is amazing . . . to be so bright from this far away,” Grenzya said.
“Hong Kong . . . you will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy,” Jace said, earning shocked looks from the Keldara.
“How can you say that about something that looks so beautiful?” Martya asked.
“Often it is the most beautiful flowers that are the most deadly,” he replied. “Like most major cities around the world, Hong Kong looks great from a distance, but once you get closer, its true nature becomes very apparent.”
“Jesus, Morgan, don’t scare ’em before we get there,” Adams muttered. “It’s just like any other big city.”
“Sorry, Master Chief, but that’s where you’re wrong. The city-state of Hong Kong has played by a different set of rules than the rest of China, and the world, for that matter, for decades.”
Jace’s words were closer to the truth than anyone, including him, knew. Loosely translated as “fragrant harbor,” the port city had been an anomaly ever since the British East India Company’s first visit in 1699. Trade between Great Britain and China had quickly flourished, with the city rapidly growing as a result. Trade imbalances and deteriorating diplomatic relations over the next one hundred forty years had led to the First Opium War in 1839–42. The resulting Treaty of Nanking had ceded Hong Kong Island to the English in perpetuity, and the Brits had immediately founded Victoria City on it. The Second Opium War, fought from
1856–60, saw Kowloon Peninsula and Stonecutter’s Island taken by Great Britain under the Convention of Peking. In 1898, Great Britain negotiated a ninety-nine-year lease of Lantau Island from China, making it a British port throughout much of the twentieth century, save for four years of occupation by the Japanese from 1941 to 1945.
After years of discussion, Hong Kong was returned to the People’s Republic of China in 1997, ending 157 years of British rule. The transfer came with the understanding that the city would be administered as a “Special Administrative Region.” This meant Hong Kong would retain its own laws and much autonomy to govern itself, except in matters of defense and foreign policy, for at least fifty years after the transfer.
In the fifteen years since, the city had solidified its place among the premier metropolises of the world. It had also weathered its share of problems, including economic scares like the 1997 Asian financial crisis, and health scares, such as the bird flu outbreak, also in that year, and the SARS crisis of 2003.
Constrained by its land boundaries, the city had expanded upward instead of outward, and its glittering skyline held the Keldara—and more than a few of the staring Americans—enthralled. But Jace was determined to make sure that everyone going into the city was aware of the dangers lurking beneath its bright, shiny façade.
“If I were you, I would probably treat this one step below tango territory. Hong Kong is a city built on commerce, but that doesn’t mean it won’t take care of its own. Not to mention chew up and spit out any gwai-lo that tries to interfere with it.”
“What is that word, sir?” Vanel asked.
“It’s a derogatory Chinese term for any outsider,” Jace said with a slight grin. “It literally means ‘white ghost.’ You don’t want me to get into a two-hour explanation of the secondary cultural meanings including, ‘unimportant’ and ‘going to be gone long before anybody cares about its complaint.’ Note the use of ‘it,’ which is a good way to think about how most Chinese view foreigners in general, as in, ‘doesn’t really exist,’ ‘foreign devil to be screwed over by superior Chinese intellect,’ and ‘somebody to sell shoddy silk, spices, and tea to because they’re too uncultured to know the difference.’ By the way, that’s exactly how they viewed your Byzantine employers and what they called them. Two thousand years ago.