Dragon Head

by James Houston Turner

  “I know and I’m sorry,” said the guard, “but orders are orders. Once I verify your IDs, I click approved and off you go.”

  With a smile, Xin Li walked down the staircase and approached the officer. “Of course. Where do I sign?”

  “No need to sign anywhere. I just need to see—”

  The guard never finished his sentence because Xin Li chopped the guard in the neck, dragged him to his car, shoved him inside, and shot him twice in the head.

  Walking back to where the guard had dropped his tablet, Xin Li picked it up, touched the Approved button, tossed it inside the car and closed the door. In less than a minute, she was back inside the Gulfstream with the staircase being retracted.

  Looking into the cockpit, Xin Li said, “Wheels up in five.” She then put her phone back to her ear while making her way along the aisle to her seat. “I’m back,” she said, glancing at Su Yin, who was watching her with frightened eyes from her seat near the rear of the plane.

  “Everything okay?” AK asked. “You took a while.”

  “Nothing I couldn’t handle. How long until we initiate Shāng Yī?”

  “A matter of minutes,” AK replied just as a ping sounded from his monitor and a red dot began flashing along the right-hand margin of the screen.

  “What was that?” asked Xin Li, hearing the sound.

  “It’s Talanov. He switched on his phone.”

  CHAPTER 29

  Back in the parking lot of the pizza parlor, Talanov’s phone had been chiming repeatedly with text messages and emails since he switched it on. With Straw Sandal in hand, Talanov led her toward Zak’s van, which was parked in the far corner of the lot in a no-parking zone. It was after midnight and the area was still swarming with gawkers attracted by the flashing lights. Another ambulance was now on the scene, which further lit up the area with strobes of red and blue. Several news vans had just arrived and their crews were setting up.

  Another chime indicated another text message but Talanov did not bother looking. He would get to all of them later. Right now, all that mattered was getting Straw Sandal into Zak’s van before a reporter saw him leading a duct-taped woman across the parking lot.

  Wilcox caught up with Talanov. “For the umpteenth time, we need to talk.”

  “Oh, we’ll talk, all right,” said Talanov, sticking his cell phone in his hip pocket, “because you’ve got some explaining to do. But now is not the time. Right now, I need you to find us a place to regroup. Someplace close but not too close, like a freeway motel. As soon as you find one, text me the address and room number. And please don’t start with the I-don’t-work-for-you bullshit. We’ve been attacked, Bill. Murders were committed. Su Yin was kidnapped. I need your help.”

  Wilcox nodded and headed for his car while Talanov escorted Straw Sandal to the van, where Zak was waiting beside the rear door.

  “Get in,” said Talanov when Zak opened the door.

  Straw Sandal balked when she saw the utility space. A spare tire was mounted to one side. A dirty rubber mat lined the floor.

  “Fine, the hard way it is,” said Talanov, picking up Straw Sandal and stuffing her into the vehicle. When she started kicking and twisting, Talanov flipped her over, wound more tape around her ankles, then pulled her feet up behind her and connected them with a length of tape to her wrists. He then reinforced the connection several more times. “Don’t go anywhere,” he said, slamming the door just as several more chimes sounded from his hip pocket.

  Taking out his phone, Talanov saw a series of missed calls. Many of the numbers he recognized. Many he did not. There were also a number of text messages from Wilcox and Gustaves.

  He then saw a text message that read, “The girl is alive. Wait for my call.” Talanov clicked the link and an image appeared on his screen. It was of Su Yin and she was curled up in what looked like the floorboard of a car. Her eyes were red from crying and she was staring up into the camera.

  Talanov went rigid with rage.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Zak, seeing Talanov staring angrily at his phone.

  Before Talanov could answer, his phone rang. He checked the Caller ID and saw it was from an unidentified number. Swiping the answer button, he put the phone to his ear.

  “I see you received the photo,” Xin Li said.

  “Who is this?” demanded Talanov.

  “Not important. What is important is that you do exactly what I tell you.”

  “If you so much as touch that girl . . .”

  “Save it, Colonel. You have something that I want. I have something that you want. Do what you’re told and no one gets hurt.”

  “What exactly do you want?” asked Talanov, his brow furrowed in thought while trying to determine whether or not he recognized the voice. There was something familiar about it. The accent, perhaps? It was almost American, but not quite, much like his own American accent, which he had learned years ago during his KGB training at Balashikha. This person spoke in a similar manner.

  “For you to bring Straw Sandal with you to Hong Kong. If you fail to do so, Su Yin will die. If you fail to arrive within two days, or if you involve the authorities, Su Yin will die. If Straw Sandal is harmed in any way, Su Yin will die. Two days, Colonel.”

  “And then? What happens then?”

  But the line had already gone dead.

  CHAPTER 30

  Several minutes later, Talanov huddled everyone in the shadow of the van, away from the activity and lights. “Su Yin is alive,” he announced, showing everyone the image. “The bad news: I have no idea who has her, where she is, or what it is they want.” He then told the group what he had been told, that if he delivered Straw Sandal to Hong Kong, no one would get hurt.

  “And you believe her?” asked Zak.

  “We don’t have a choice,” answered Talanov, “so for now, we’ll do what they say. I got us into this mess, so I will get her back, whatever it takes.”

  “For the record, this isn’t your fault,” said Zak.

  “Yes, it is,” said Talanov. “None of this would have happened if it weren’t for me.”

  “Then you might as well blame me for welcoming these kids into my life. If I’d sent them away, none of this would have happened. Or if I hadn’t hired Amina and Ramona, then they’d both be alive. This is not your fault.”

  “I beg to differ,” said Emily. “I say this is his fault. And I want the record to show that.”

  “You want what record to show that?” asked Zak.

  “The legal record. And I know a judge who will accommodate me on that. A judge who will make sure this never happens again.”

  “Come on, Em. Don’t start.”

  “You said your old life was behind you, Zak, but you never really closed that door. And you let Alex drag you back in. And for what? To help him work through his grief? Well, we are done with that. Look at the grief he has caused. His wife is dead. Ramona and Amina are dead. How many more people have to die? We have enough grief in our lives without taking on his, and I, for one, am tired of sacrificing my life and my work for some misguided loyalty. We would all be better off if you would—”

  “Shut up!” yelled Jingfei, stepping up to confront Emily when she saw Talanov take a step back, as if punched in the stomach.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I said, shut up! No one asked for your opinion, anyway, and I, for one, am tired of listening to it. At least Zak and Alex are trying to do something. But you? You’re threatening to take them to court. You don’t care about Su Yin any more than you care about me and Kai. We’re your big source of grief, anyway, right? Well, you know what? I don’t care about you, either. All I care about is finding Su Yin. So don’t ever threaten Zak or Alex again.”

  “Or what?” demanded Emily.

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “That’s enough,” said Zak, easing Jingfei back.

  “She needs to stay out of this,” yelled Jingfei while jabbing a finger at Emily. “All she does is complain
and make threats.”

  “Are you going to let her talk to me like that?” demanded Emily.

  “Jingfei was harsh, but right,” said Zak. “You need to quit making threats and casting blame where it doesn’t belong.” He glanced over at Talanov and saw him staring down at the pavement, visibly shaken. Making eye contact with Jingfei, he gave a quick nod in Talanov’s direction. Jingfei understood and stepped over to give Talanov a hug.

  “This isn’t your fault,” she said.

  “Emily is right,” admitted Talanov. “My wife is dead, which never would have happened if I hadn’t—”

  “—you did not pull the trigger,” said Zak, cutting in.

  “But I’m the one who—”

  “—no buts, Alex! We don’t have time for self-pity. Now, what do we do next? How do we stop these people?”

  With flashing lights still bathing the area in red and blue, Talanov saw everyone looking at him, and after a steadying breath, he said, “The first thing we do is get out of here. Then we question our prisoner and make her tell us who they are, why they did this, and what it is they want. Once we know that, we’ll figure out a way to beat them at their own game. That’s how we find Su Yin. That’s how we bring her back.”

  “Are you really going to take Straw Sandal to Hong Kong?” asked Jingfei. “What makes you think she won’t kill you the first chance she gets?”

  “Because for some reason, they want me to bring Straw Sandal with me to Hong Kong. Not just send her back, but bring her with me. That means they want something from me. I don’t what it is, but for now, we play along.”

  “What if they, like, torture Su Yin?” asked Kai.

  “It serves no purpose,” answered Talanov. “Right now, everything is simple and clean, and we all want to keep it that way.”

  “Promise you’ll get her back,” said Kai with tears in his eyes. “Please, Alex. She’s my kid sister, and she’s, like, smart and funny, and she trusted me to take care of her, and I didn’t. Promise you’ll bring her back.”

  “I wish I could promise you that,” Talanov said gently. “But you know I can’t. But I do promise I will go to the ends of the earth trying. Whatever it takes, Kai, whatever the cost, I will do everything in my power to bring Su Yin safely home.”

  Kai nodded just as Talanov’s phone chimed. Talanov saw that it was a text message from Wilcox with directions to a motel, which was half an hour to the south. Zak said he knew the place, and after everyone had piled into the van, within minutes they were headed south on the 101. Zak was behind the wheel and Talanov was in the passenger seat. Emily and Ginie were in the seat behind, with Jingfei and Kai in the bench seat behind them. Straw Sandal was still on the floorboard of the utility space, kicking and protesting with muffled growls.

  Talanov looked back at Ginie and asked her to describe the kidnapper. Ginie replied that she was Chinese, female, and tall – maybe six feet – with shoulder-length black hair that was seasoned with gray. Ginie estimated her to be forty to fifty years old.

  “She was gorgeous,” said Ginie, “but cold and ruthless in the way she shot all those people. I think she had a scar on her face. Hardly visible, like it was from a long time ago.”

  The van fell silent again while Talanov stared thoughtfully off into the darkness. There were barren hills on the right and San Francisco Bay on the left. In the far distance, across the water, was a necklace of lights hugging the other shore.

  “Can we ever go back to the center?” asked Kai.

  “Not until this is over,” answered Talanov.

  “How long do you think that will that be?”

  “A week. A few months. Hard to tell.”

  “But all of my stuff is there.”

  “What about my practice, and my clients,” asked Emily. “I can’t just leave people hanging.”

  Rotating in his seat, Talanov looked at the four sets of eyes staring back at him. “Is any of this worth your life?” He scanned their faces over the hum of the tires. “There is no going back,” he said. “Not for clients, for stuff, or anything else, at least not now. You need to disappear while I figure out a way to rescue Su Yin. If we succeed, we live. If we don’t . . .”

  Talanov did not finish his sentence. He simply let his grave expression finish it for him.

  And everyone understood.

  From this point on, they were on their own.

  CHAPTER 31

  The sky at thirty-two thousand feet is almost always blue, and for Captain David Baker, the sight of endless blue was one of the enduring joys of being a pilot. With nearly forty years under his belt with the airline, Baker, who was known for his infectious laugh, had flown more miles than any person could count. Without question, some aspects of the job had lost their romantic appeal. But not the sight of endless blue. Endless blue reminded him of endless possibilities.

  After checking his coordinates, Baker brought the intercom to his mouth. “Good morning from the flight deck, everyone. I hope you’ve had a pleasant flight. This is Captain Baker and we’ll soon be commencing our descent into Shanghai.” Baker went on to tell people what the weather was like in Shanghai, how much time remained for duty-free shopping, and how much he had enjoyed serving them on this flight. He then wished them a pleasant week.

  A knock sounded on the cockpit door just as Baker clicked off. Easing himself out of his seat, he peered through the peephole and saw Terry, the lead flight attendant, holding a coffee pot on a tray. The coffee pot was chrome-plated and steam wafted from its mouth. Beside it were some porcelain cups. Baker smiled. Terry knew he loved drinking coffee from china, not plastic. After unlocking the door, Baker greeted the fifty-three-year-old blonde with whom he had worked for more than two decades.

  “One pot of double-roast Italian espresso,” announced Terry, entering the cockpit and pouring Baker a cup. “Coffee, Nick?” she then asked Baker’s copilot, Nick Blair.

  “No, thanks. Bladder trouble.”

  “Did I really need to know that?” asked Terry with a grin.

  Blair laughed and Terry left.

  After locking the cockpit door, Baker returned to his seat to check his gauges as the big airliner began its computerized auto-descent. As captain of the aircraft, he was still tasked with the monitoring of everything, but experience with manual controls was less important these days than an ability to understand computers.

  Sipping his coffee, Baker panned the dashboard and took note of their global positioning, angle of descent, altitude, speed, temperature, moisture, and wind speed. His mind quickly analyzed the readings. Everything was as it should be.

  Beneath them now was a layer of cumulus clouds that stretched as far as the eye could see. Dense and white, the clouds were lumbering south, like an immense migration. Baker smiled at his childhood memories of lying out in the back yard, staring up at the clouds. Those carefree days were what led him to become a pilot. Faraway lands. Endless blue. The sky is the limit.

  After finishing his coffee, Baker went to the first class galley for a refill, and by the time he returned, the giant airliner had entered the cloud layer. Gray on all sides, like fog, with zero visibility except for intermittent bursts of light where the clouds parted and stabs of sunlight beamed through.

  “How we looking?” asked Baker, sliding into his seat.

  “Wake me when we get there,” quipped Blair as the airliner continued its descent.

  Over the drone of jet engines, Baker drank more coffee while again checking his dashboard. As usual, his mind analyzed the readings. As usual, everything looked normal. That all changed when the airliner broke through the clouds and Baker saw an F/A-18E Super Hornet coming straight toward them like a guided missile.

  Dropping his coffee, Baker yanked back on the stick, which overrode the automated controls just as the fighter pilot reacted by shoving his stick forward. The Super Hornet thundered beneath the airliner so closely it caused oxygen masks to fall from their overhead compartments throughout the plane. Coffee and foo
d slid off trays. Passengers screamed while being slammed back in their seats from the force of the airliner surging upward.

  Baker heard the cries and crashes but didn’t care. All he cared about was getting his bird away from that fighter jet.

  “Where did he come from?” shouted Blair. “He wasn’t on radar. He wasn’t anywhere!”

  Baker had no answer. His instruments had said the coast was clear all the way to Shanghai. Nothing had shown on any screen. Air traffic control had issued no warning. What the hell had gone wrong?

  With Terry’s fists pounding on the cockpit door and Blair on the phone demanding answers from air traffic control, Baker took the airliner back up through the clouds. Only then could he begin trying to figure out what had had happened.

  Seeing patches of blue above, Baker eased up on the stick and felt the gravitational force of their climb begin to recede. He wondered how many passengers were wearing their coffee and eggs. He looked down and saw a large wet spot in his crotch where he had spilled his coffee. The sight of it made him laugh. At least he was alive to laugh.

  The cloud cover soon gave way to endless blue and Baker breathed a sigh of relief.

  He then saw a slow-moving shadow out the top of his cockpit window. Leaning forward, he looked up.

  His eyes widened.

  His mouth fell open.

  Another airliner was descending on top of them.

  CHAPTER 32

  The jumbo airliner above them had just begun its descent. Originating out of Los Angeles, it, too, was destined for Shanghai. Unlike Baker, however, the captain of the other airliner was blithely unaware of what had just happened below. He couldn’t see a thing other than blue sky ahead and thick clouds below. His instruments showed no aircraft within miles.

  “Hang on!” Baker yelled, jamming the control stick forward to send his plane into a downward dive.

  A downward dive for an airliner is not as easy as it sounds, especially when the airliner is already in an upward trajectory. Unlike fighter jets, which have instant maneuverability, jumbo jets respond like aircraft carriers, and Baker’s airliner was no exception. In the main cabin, overhead bins flew open. Luggage spilled out. Flight attendants and passengers were falling in the aisles. Children began to cry.