“You are very persistent Mr Green!” said Charles Tang as he stepped out of the shadows of the dressing room behind me.
Realising my dreadful mistake, I leaped forward and to my right in an effort to get cover behind the bed. At the same time, I swung the gun around to shoot but it was too late. Charles Tang had fired the .38 Special. The heavy bullet slammed into the side of the barrel of my own gun and I felt my wrist strain as the weapon was violently ripped from my right hand. I landed behind the giant bed and rolled into a flat position in an attempt to shield myself from the bullets I knew were coming my way.
“Bastard!” screamed Tang in his high-pitched chipmunk voice as he emptied the chambers of the revolver.
The bullets slammed into the mattress and crunched into the plaster of the wall behind me. One, two, three, four, five shots, I counted until there was only the manic clicking of the trigger of the empty gun. It only took me a split second to realise I had not been hit and for a moment I was puzzled to see the dust and the duck down feathers of the pillows as they settled around where I lay. I jumped to my feet to see Charles Tang standing in nothing but his underwear in the centre of the room. His entire right shoulder and half of his chest was covered with an elaborate multi coloured tattoo of a snarling dragon. His face was contorted with rage and his body shook like a pneumatic drill as he repeatedly pulled the trigger. Knowing the gun was empty I launched myself towards him.
“Bastard!” he screamed as he threw the useless weapon to the side and ran towards me.
Our bodies met with an almighty thump at the foot of the massive bed and it soon became apparent that either his rage or the drugs had given him some kind of superhuman strength. The iron grip of his right hand closed around my neck and although I rained blow after blow to either side of his face with my clenched fists, he forced me back until my body slammed into the wall near the window behind me. It was only when I felt myself passing out that it occurred to me that that his groin was unprotected. I brought my right knee up between his legs with enough force to bring his feet off the ground briefly. Charles Tang let out a loud and continuous cawing sound and finally his grip on my neck weakened slightly. It gave me enough leeway to force him backwards and we both stumbled and fell rolling on to the thick carpet intertwined in a mutual death grip. Charles Tang began to scratch and punch blindly at my face all the while snarling like a caged animal. It seemed the blows I was landing had absolutely no effect on him at all. My strength began to wane by the time my back hit the leg of the table near the entrance door. Charles Tang fought on like a rabid dog and eventually managed to get on top of me. Out of the blue he landed two heavy punches on my left temple and I knew then I was losing the battle. With the same superhuman strength he lifted me by my shirt to a standing position and I looked into his maniacal eyes.
“Bastard!!” he screamed in my face.
With a final burst of strength, I head butted Charles Tang squarely in the nose and heard the cartilage break. The blow stunned him briefly and the big man's legs collapsed under him. He sat on the carpet with his hands behind him as a torrent of blood flowed from his ruined nose. I staggered backwards wheezing heavily as I tried to catch my breath. My misguided sense of security was all too brief. Charles Tang kicked at my lower legs and hooked his foot behind my ankles. My legs lifted into the air and my back slammed heavily on to the surface of the marble table behind me.
I lay there winded and confused as Charles Tang sprang to his feet once again and held me down by my shirt on the table. I saw the deranged fires of madness in his eyes above me from where I lay as his right hand lifted the heavy glass paperweight high above his head ready to smash my skull. He never saw my right hand which had found the thick carved ivory handle of the silver ornamental dagger that lay on the table nearby. I gripped it hard and brought it up towards his head with as much force as I could. The razor-sharp point of the filigree blade pierced the flesh under his chin, travelled through his tongue, and embedded itself an inch deep into the roof of his mouth. Charles Tang's eyes opened wide and the heavy paperweight fell from his right hand and smashed on the table near my head. Still bent over, the big man released me and took a step backwards from where I lay on the table.
“Hmmmmmmm,” A long, unusual sound emanated from deep in his throat.
The shrill piercing voices from the opera on the giant television to my left reached a crescendo as I lifted myself from the table and stood over the hunched figure in front of me. I lifted his head slightly by his ears and looked into his wide mad eyes. His thick purplish lips were quivering uncontrollably. I tightened my grip on his ears and brought the knee of my right leg up as hard as I could under his chin. My knee hit the pommel of the dagger with great force and the long blade travelled through the roof of Charles Tang's mouth. It passed through the temporal lobe of his brain and came to rest in the roof of his skull. As if by some strange muscular spasm, the big man stood bolt upright and raised his arms in a cruciform position. I stood and watched as his eyes rolled back in his head. His body fell straight back with a dull thud and Charles Tang lay dead on the carpet of his penthouse apartment in the Highcliffe building of Happy Valley, Hong Kong.
Chapter 26: Geneva, Switzerland, Five Days Later
THE BRIGHT MORNING sunshine reflected harshly off the blue waters of Lake Geneva. In the distance I saw the famous Jet d’Eau water fountain that shot a solid column of water 140 metres into the sky above the lake. Beyond that the distant snow-capped Alps cut a jagged black and white line against the perfectly blue sky. Having removed the hard drive of Charles Tang's security system I had left the Highcliffe building quietly and without incident. I left Hong Kong that evening and flew back to London via Dubai. After spending two days holed up in my flat, I had ventured out to my lawyer's office in Soho and retrieved the package I had sent from Hong Kong. The day after that I had flown to Switzerland and booked into a suite for one night on the 4th floor of the Hotel Metropole. I poured a cup of coffee and sat at the desk near the window where my laptop computer was set up. There were four hours to kill until my flight back to London, so I decided to use the time to catch up with some work. I had been feeling somewhat dazed and detached from reality since leaving Hong Kong. This feeling had stayed with me as I delivered Hannes' report to Dr Schmidt at the offices of the World Wildlife Fund in the city. Our meeting had been short and although he had accepted the hard drive with polite gratitude, I could see he was a busy man and had more pressing business to attend to. After the appointment I had spent the late afternoon wandering the streets aimlessly before ending up in a bar near the waterfront. The feeling of blank disassociation was still with me and I drummed my fingers on the table as I sipped the coffee and stared out at the view. The shrill electronic ring of the telephone in front of me woke me from my daydream and I lifted the receiver.
“Hello,” I said quietly.
“Good morning Mr Green this is the front desk,” said the male voice in a French accent “We have Dr Helmut Schmidt here at reception.”
“Yes?” I said feeling somewhat puzzled.
“He sends his sincere apologies for having arrived without an appointment,” said the man “but he would like to see you as a matter of urgency.”
“Um, sure,” I replied. “Please send him up.”
“Thank you, Mr Green, I will send him up right away,” said the voice.
I stood up from the desk and removed my bag from the table in the centre of the room in an effort to tidy up. What is this all about I wonder? The sharp knock on the door came two minutes later. I opened it to find a very dishevelled Dr Helmut Schmidt standing there panting from his climb up the stairs. His long grey hair was all awry and I could see the eyes behind the tiny rimless spectacles were tired and bloodshot. In his left hand he clutched a thick file.
“Mr Green!” he said loudly as he shook my hand vigorously “Oh Mr Green I'm so glad I caught you. I actually got the name of the hotel from the reception at my offices. Please accept my s
incere apologies for arriving without an appointment but I had to see you urgently.”
“No problem at all,” I said feeling slightly bemused. “Please come in.”
The portly man walked in and sat down on a chair at the table with his back to the window. His tweed suit was creased and ruffled around his shoulders and arms. He placed the file carefully on the table in front of him.
“Would you like some coffee Dr Schmidt?” I asked.
“Thank you but no Mr Green,” he replied watching me intently. “No, if you don't mind, I will just sit with you for a few minutes.”
I sat down on the chair opposite and waited for him to speak.
“Mr Green,” he said. “I have been up all night along with a staff of eight people.”
He tapped a pudgy finger on the thick file on the table.
“This report you delivered to my offices yesterday afternoon is what kept us up.”
“Right...?” I said still feeling somewhat puzzled.
“Mr Green,” he said sitting forward in his chair, “This report is without a doubt, the single most damning expose ever seen in the history of the WWF. This report, when made public at our forthcoming conference, will expose and crush some of the most powerful poaching syndicates in the world. It will result in hundreds, if not thousands of international prosecutions. Not only that Mr Green. It will demonstrate the collusion and corruption of countless government officials in the countries mentioned in it. In other words, it is priceless. Mr Green, on behalf of the WWF I would like to thank you for bringing it to us.”
“Thank you, Dr Schmidt,” I said, “but you are aware that the majority of this report is the work of the late Johannes Kriel.”
“Yes,” he replied, “yes Mr Green I am aware of that. To tell you the truth we never expected to actually receive it since hearing of his death.”
I tapped my finger softly on the arm of the chair not knowing what to say. The portly man sat forward again his thick grey moustache bristling. His bloodshot blue eyes stared at me through the spectacles.
“Mr Green,” he said, “forgive me for pressing you on a subject you seem reticent to discuss. But I have a distinct feeling that you may have been through some personal hardships in getting this report to us. Would I be correct in thinking that?”
I looked at the old man sitting in front of me. My eyes wandered to the view of the distant mountains and then settled on the screen of the laptop on the desk behind him. The smiling face of Gabriela Bonjiovanni standing near the dhow on the island looked back at me. Suddenly the shocking and vivid memories of the past months came crashing into my consciousness. It was as if a giant dam had burst and I had been hit by an all-consuming wall of flood water. The sudden rush of emotion was both unexpected and frightening and I felt the tears welling up in my eyes. I blinked and cleared my throat before I spoke.
“There were a few problems Dr Schmidt.” I said quietly “nothing serious.”
The End
Dear reader. I'm guessing if you are seeing this it means you will have finished this book. I really hope you enjoyed it! If you did, I would like to ask you to kindly leave a review on Goodreads.com and / or on whatever platform you bought it from. As an independent author I rely heavily on reviews and word of mouth from readers such as yourself. It really helps! If you would like to receive updates and deals please do so by following me on Facebook. Please check out my other titles as well. Thank you once again and rest assured, Jason Green will live to fight another day! Gordon.
www.gordonwallis.com
THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED to my brother Richard. Massive thanks to Paul and Sarah for ideas and support.
The Jason Green series Box Set Page 72