Dragon Head

by James Houston Turner

  Traveling nearly one hundred miles an hour, the SUV quickly caught up to Zak’s old van. When Bravo rolled down his window, a blast of night air filled the cab.

  Alpha pulled out into the other lane as if he were going to pass. When he did, Bravo readied his pistol.

  In his outside mirror, Zak saw the SUV swing wide to his left. “Hang on!” he said, hitting the brakes. When he did, the SUV shot past them just as Zak hit the gas and cranked the steering wheel to the left, causing the van to clip the rear bumper of the SUV. The jolt sent the SUV spinning across the highway and down onto the shoulder, out of control.

  Zak continued off the highway into grove of citrus trees. Branches slapped and scraped the van as Zak sped along an aisle. A short distance into the thicket, Zak slowed to a crawl, switched off his lights, then turned into another aisle.

  Hearing a moan in the back seat, Zak looked around to see Ginie with her hand to her head. “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “I smashed my head against the window. I think I feel something sticky.”

  “Let me get a little deeper into the trees and I’ll stop and have a look. Emily, are you okay?”

  “I banged my head, too, but I’m all right.”

  Back on the shoulder of the highway, Alpha hit the brakes and brought the SUV to a stop in a cloud of dust, where he angrily pounded the steering wheel just as his cell phone began to ring. Alpha told Bravo to answer it while he did a squealing U-turn and sped across the highway into the citrus grove after Zak.

  “Why me?” asked Bravo, seeing the call was from Shaw.

  “Because I’m driving and we can’t lose Babikov.”

  Bravo took a steadying breath and answered the call.

  “What the hell just happened?” yelled Shaw. He was looking at a satellite map of the citrus groves while operators in the communications center worked furiously to enhance the area in an effort to locate Babikov.

  “He rammed us off the road,” Bravo replied.

  “How could you be so careless!”

  “Don’t worry, sir, we’ll find him.”

  “How do you plan to do that when we can’t even see him?”

  “He’s obviously turned off his headlights,” said Bravo, “which means he’ll have to creep along in the darkness, which means, sooner or later, he’ll run out of grove, or come to an irrigation canal, or have to turn his headlights back on. When he does, we’ll have him. Right now, he’s driving blind. He can’t keep doing that forever.”

  By now, Zak’s eyes had adjusted to the night, but because there was no ambient light, the surrounding forest was a dense, pitch-black montage of shadows and silhouettes.

  With branches scraping the outside of the van, Zak steered the vehicle slowly into another aisle. He was not even sure which way they were heading because he had lost his sense of direction, and there was no time now to stop and navigate by the stars, not that he could see much of the sky, anyway, because the grove was so thick and dark. His focus now was putting as much distance between him and the cheykas as possible. The good news: the grove was vast and there were miles and miles of arrow-straight aisles. The bad news: the cheykas had satellites on their side, and because he could see no other headlights poking through the trees, that meant there was no way to tell where they were.

  Zak slowed and turned again. His strategy was to keep zigzagging in an unpredictable pattern toward the far corner of the grove. Thankfully, the aisles were straight and the sound of branches scraping the sides of the van kept him more or less in the center of the aisle.

  If he remembered correctly from previous trips, the highways bordering this section of groves formed a perimeter in the shape of a trapezoid, with an angled top, where the highway cut diagonally to the southeast. Farther south was another highway that cut due west. It formed the bottom of the trapezoid, with smaller roads crisscrossing the interior of the tract. He needed to reach one of those smaller roads, which would take him to one of the highways, which would take him back to the interstate, where they could disappear in the flow of traffic. Twain Harte would have to come later.

  Zak turned again and almost immediately branches began scraping heavily on the right-hand side of the vehicle. So he adjusted his steering to the left, then straightened it when the scraping subsided.

  “How are you feeling?” asked Zak, glancing over his shoulder at Ginie.

  “My head really hurts,” she replied. “I think I need to lie down.”

  “Not until I look at you first.”

  Zak took his foot off the accelerator and allowed the van to coast to a stop in an intersection of aisles. With the engine idling, he switched on the interior light and rotated in his seat.

  Ginie’s forehead was bloody.

  With his attention on Ginie, Zak did not hear the roar of tires and snapping of branches until a blinding burst of headlights lit up the interior of the van seconds before the SUV broadsided them with a deafening crash.

  Zak heard Ginie and Emily scream. Heard groaning metal as the van flipped onto its side. Felt his head smash the steering wheel as the smell of gasoline filled his nostrils.

  An instant later, everything went black.

  CHAPTER 49

  The red and white taxi stopped in front of a highrise hotel. No one had talked during the ride from the Hong Kong airport, especially the driver, who kept glancing uneasily in the rearview mirror at Straw Sandal, who was wedged between Talanov and Wilcox. In the front seat beside the driver were Jingfei and Kai.

  Talanov climbed out, then motioned for Straw Sandal to get out while Wilcox tried paying the driver. The driver refused with hand gestures that said he did not want any money. Wilcox insisted but the driver was adamant. He kept motioning for Wilcox to close the door, and with a shrug, Wilcox complied, and the driver squealed away.

  Straw Sandal led the way through a rotating glass door into the lobby of the hotel, which was cold and impersonal in its attempt to achieve opulence. The interior walls were huge panels of polished stone. The white floor was ceramic tile. A sitting area to one side featured a collection of stuffed chairs and sofas. A tall plant in a pot was the only sign of life.

  With her footsteps echoing off the floor, Straw Sandal approached the front counter. The attending clerk was a young Chinese woman in a cream-colored suit. She had short black hair, alabaster skin, and bright red lips.

  The young woman blanched when she looked up to see Straw Sandal glaring at her. The young woman picked up her phone and called the manager. Within seconds, the manager appeared. Thin and delicate, he was dressed in a smart black suit.

  “Welcome, honored one,” the manager said, bowing.

  “These people need a room,” Straw Sandal replied.

  The manager snapped his fingers and the clerk fetched two key cards and ran them through a scanner. Once the key cards had been programmed to one of the hotel’s luxury suites, the clerk handed them to the manager, who handed them to Straw Sandal, who turned away before the manager could say how pleased he was to serve such esteemed guests.

  The group followed Straw Sandal to the elevator, where two couples were waiting. When the couples saw Straw Sandal, they left quickly. Seconds later, the doors dinged opened and Straw Sandal stepped inside just as Talanov’s cell phone vibrated.

  Talanov checked the Caller ID but saw the number had been blocked. After a moment of hesitation, he touched the green answer button and put the phone to his ear.

  “Commercial jet, my ass,” a voice growled.

  Talanov turned away from the others and lowered his voice. “I’m trying to save a girl’s life.”

  “Not my concern. My concern is stopping these attacks by China against the United States. So, before I decide whether or not to charge you with treason, I’m ordering you to get back on my plane and bring that prisoner of yours back to the DC for questioning.”

  “Sir, if you’ll let me explain.”

  “Get back on my plane!”

  “Bringing Straw Sandal to DC
was a waste of time. The only way of stopping those attacks is here, in Hong Kong.”

  “What part of ‘Get back on my plane’ don’t you understand?”

  “And I’m telling you the only way to end this is by letting me proceed.”

  Shaw worked the keyboard on his cell phone.

  An instant later, the phone in Talanov’s hand chimed with a text message. Talanov looked at the text message, which read, OPEN THE FILE, COLONEL. Talanov hesitated, then heard Shaw repeat the message to him verbally.

  “Open the file, Colonel,” said Shaw. “You’re going to want to see this.”

  Even though Talanov did not have the phone to his ear, he could still hear Shaw’s voice. And so could everyone else.

  Although wary because of the spyware incident back in San Francisco, Talanov opened the attachment, which was a video file. He clicked Play and saw Zak, Ginie, and Emily kneeling on the barren ground in a dense citrus grove. Their hands had been zip tied behind their backs. Zak’s forehead was cut and his face was black-and-blue. Ginie’s face was covered with blood that had dried in crusty rivulets. Emily’s hair was tangled and she was silently crying. With soft music playing in the elevator, Talanov watched each of them look up into the camera.

  Talanov heard a man’s voice order them to stand, after which Zak and the women struggled to their feet. The camera then followed them to the rear door of an SUV, which a man in a ski mask opened. The camera showed the man emptying the utility space of camping gear. The man then shoved Zak, Ginie, and Emily inside the utility space, one on top of the other. It then showed the door being slammed, and the man in the ski mask disappeared.

  “So allow me to make myself clear,” Shaw said. “If you don’t stop what you’re doing right now and get back on my plane, and I mean you, Wilcox, and that Chinese bitch, then I will put bullets in the heads of Babikov and those women and send you the pictures.”

  And with that, the line went dead.

  When the elevator doors opened seconds later, Talanov stood rigidly in place while everyone else stepped out of the elevator, where they gathered in a group, unsure what to do.

  Straw Sandal waited until Talanov looked at her before nodding for him to follow.

  Talanov stepped out of the elevator and followed the others along the carpeted corridor to a numbered door, where Straw Sandal inserted the key card in a slot above the handle. With a heavy click, the door unlocked and Straw Sandal pushed it open.

  Wilcox and the kids entered and looked around. To one side was a couch and two stuffed chairs. At the other end of the room was a boutique kitchen and well-stocked mini-bar.

  When Talanov approached the doorway, Straw Sandal offered him the keycard and said, “We will call you with instructions.”

  But instead of accepting the key card, Talanov shoved Straw Sandal into the room and closed the door. Straw Sandal jumped into a fighting position, feet apart, fists ready, teeth clenched.

  Wilcox scooped the kids to safety just as Talanov strode calmly forward. Behind Straw Sandal was a large sliding glass door that led onto a balcony that overlooked the Hong Kong skyline.

  “For now, I’m giving the instructions,” Talanov said, rolling up his sleeves. “One way or another, you’re going to tell me where your father is. Then you’re going to take me to see him.” He shook his arms, as if preparing for a fight.

  “You are not giving the orders,” Straw Sandal replied.

  “I think I just did, but if you prefer to fight it out again like you tried in San Francisco, I’m fine with that.”

  Straw Sandal glared angrily at Talanov.

  “So far, the CIB has stayed out of this,” Talanov remarked. “But if you do something stupid, like attacking a visitor in a hotel room, they’ll have enough reason to launch an investigation into you and your father, and who knows what they’ll find, as in a kidnapped little girl. Up to you. What’s it going to be?”

  Straw Sandal’s eyes flashed but she did not reply.

  “Call Alice,” said Talanov, glancing at Wilcox. “Tell her we’ve been attacked. Be sure and mention the attack was initiated by Dragon Head’s daughter.”

  Wilcox started to dial.

  “Stop!” Straw Sandal said.

  Talanov narrowed his eyes. The seconds stretched.

  “The Zhongzhen Martial Arts Academy,” Straw Sandal finally said.

  “Call him. Tell him we’re coming over.”

  Straw Sandal continued to glare defiantly at Talanov, who picked up the cordless phone and tossed it to Straw Sandal, who continued glaring at Talanov before grudgingly dialing a number. Once the connection was made, she stepped out onto the balcony.

  “Keep an eye on her while I talk to Bill in the hall,” Talanov told Jingfei quietly. “I’ll leave the door ajar. Any problem, give a shout.”

  Jingfei agreed, and Talanov nodded for Wilcox to join him in the hallway.

  While Straw Sandal conversed on the balcony, Jingfei made a “watch her” gesture to Kai and hurried across the carpet to the slightly open door, where she cocked and ear and listened.

  Out in the corridor, Talanov paced back and forth several times before showing Wilcox the video clip he had just been sent.

  Wilcox watched the video, then leaned back against the wall. “I knew Shaw would be furious,” he said, “but this? I can’t believe he would sink that low.”

  “I can’t believe it, either,” said Talanov, “but you heard what Shaw said. He’s demanding we leave immediately or he says he’ll kill Zak and the women.”

  Without listening to anything more, Jingfei ran back to the couch and plopped down beside Kai, where she drew her knees up and sat in a ball, arms folded tightly across her shins, lips pinched, eyes staring angrily at the floor.

  “What’s wrong?” whispered Kai.

  “Talanov and Wilcox, they’re leaving!”

  “What do you mean, they’re leaving?”

  “Talanov played some kind of a video clip for Wilcox, then said they were leaving. I knew this was going to happen.”

  Outside in the corridor, Wilcox slumped back against the wall. “I thought I could buy us some time by telling Shaw you got away. Everything we did. It was all for nothing.”

  “Maybe not,” Talanov replied.

  Half a world away, in Tyson’s Corner, Virginia, Shaw was pacing the floor in front of his desk, talking to Alpha on a scrambler phone.

  “Take Babikov and the others to the termination site,” he said. “I’ll text you the coordinates.”

  “Termination for how many?” asked Alpha, inspecting the SUV to make sure it was drivable. The bull bar was bent and the spotlights had been demolished, but otherwise it had suffered little damage.

  “All of them,” Shaw replied. “No loose ends. But not until I give the order. We first need Talanov to comply, but after he does, they’re all yours.”

  “Copy that. We’ll need a clean-up crew for the van. Babikov tried losing us in an orange grove and I had to ram him. The van’s on its side, so we’ll need a flatbed. I left a tracking beacon inside the cab.”

  “I’ll send a crew. Let me know when you’ve arrived at the site.”

  Shaw clicked off, then dialed another number. Ten seconds later, the phone was answered by Special Agent “Delta,” who was on board the USS Ronald Reagan.

  Delta and Special Agent “Zulu,” their gray T-shirts stained with sweat, had just finished a workout in the gym, which was a rectangular room of exercise equipment, weights, mirrors, mats, and treadmills. The decor was like everywhere else on the carrier: pipes, conduits, girders, and boilerplate steel, all painted gray. Both agents were Chinese-Americans, and both were in their thirties. Delta spoke fluent Cantonese and Zulu spoke fluent Mandarin. Both were five-feet, eleven inches tall.

  “Delta here,” the agent said.

  “We’ve got a problem,” said Shaw. “How soon can you deploy?”

  CHAPTER 50

  When Talanov reentered the hotel room with Wilcox he could tell s
omething was wrong. Kai had a scowl on his face and Jingfei refused to look at him. Why they were acting that way, he didn’t know. Nor did he have the time to placate their emotional whims.

  “He’s waiting,” announced Straw Sandal. She had been waiting by the slider. Sunlight was reflecting off a neighboring highrise and filling the room with light.

  Talanov gave Wilcox a nod and Wilcox told the kids to come with him. Without a word, Jingfei and Kai got up and followed Wilcox out the door and to the far end of the corridor, where Wilcox pushed open a heavy metal door.

  “Stairs? You’ve got to be kidding,” complained Jingfei when Wilcox led the way into a shaft of unpainted concrete and switchback steps.

  “We’re taking the back way out,” said Wilcox.

  “We’re on the nineteenth floor!”

  “Don’t worry, it’s all downhill.”

  “Why don’t we take the elevator?” asked Kai. “This is, like, way beyond stupid.”

  “I want to make certain that nobody sees us.”

  “Seriously? A big white guy in a pink and yellow Hawaiian shirt? Everybody’s going to see us.”

  Wilcox rubbed the bridge of his nose. Why did I let Talanov rope me into babysitting these two?

  The kids descended the stairs two at a time and were soon out of sight, although their feet could be heard slapping the concrete.

  “Wait for me at the bottom,” Wilcox called out.

  Seven minutes later, a winded Wilcox reached the ground floor, where the kids were leaning against the concrete wall near the back door. Jingfei and Kai had been conversing quietly, but when they saw Wilcox, they quit talking and stepped away from each other.

  Pausing to catch his breath, Wilcox eyed them suspiciously.

  “Where to?” asked Jingfei with an impatient sigh.

  “How about we get something to eat?”

  Jingfei threw Wilcox a sarcastic look. “You make us walk down nineteen flights of stairs because you didn’t want anybody to see us, then say we’re going to a restaurant to get something to eat? Kai was right. This is way beyond stupid.”