Dragon Head

by James Houston Turner

  “Then who?”

  Dragon Head glanced at Sofia, who stiffened for the instant needed for Talanov to discern what was going on.

  ”My God, it’s that bank account, isn’t it?” said Talanov, realizing Dragon Head wanted what so many people had wanted through the years: to take possession of a long-forgotten Swiss bank account opened in his name decades earlier by the KGB. The original deposit of seven million dollars was to have funded an espionage program that fell apart with the demise of the Soviet Union. The funds, however, continued to grow because they had been transferred by the Swiss to their investment brokers in Hong Kong, who, since that time, had managed to leverage the original amount into a staggering one point five billion dollars.

  Talanov flashed back to his days in Australia, where he had migrated after the Soviet Union had crumbled. Life there had been peaceful until a resurrected Department Thirteen – the KGB’s assassination and sabotage unit – came after him for the same reason Dragon Head was after him now: for the money. Their plan had been simple: kill him and take a copy of his death certificate to the bank in Switzerland. That document would have allowed those funds to be released, which almost happened had he not shown up in Switzerland very much alive.

  So, why was Dragon Head not attempting the same thing now? Why had he not simply killed him and taken his death certificate to the bank?

  The answer brought a smile to his lips.

  “Does something amuse you?” asked Dragon Head.

  “It certainly does,” answered Talanov. “You need me to access my account. That’s why you kidnapped Su Yin: to force me into helping you because no one else but me can access my account. Not even my death certificate will allow you access, which means there’s some kind of a problem.”

  Talanov watched Dragon Head’s expression harden. A nerve had been touched. So he decided to probe a little deeper.

  “But that’s not the whole story, is it? I mean, someone at the bank has had access to those funds. How else would they have been able to invest them? But they don’t, anymore. What happened?”

  “All you need to know, Colonel, is that if you locate and bring me those funds, the girl will live.”

  “Locate? What’s there to locate? I thought they were in the bank.”

  Talanov saw Dragon Head tense.

  “So they’re not in the bank?” asked Talanov.

  “This isn’t a discussion, Colonel. Bring me those funds.”

  “Is that all you want? Just the money?”

  Dragon Head replied with a deadpan nod.

  “Are you a man of your word?” asked Talanov.

  “I believe my demands are clear.”

  “Not if you’re a liar.”

  Sofia charged over and again jammed the pistol up under Talanov’s chin. “You will do what we say or I will kill the girl in front of you right here and now.”

  Talanov stared unwavering at Sofia for a long moment before easing the pistol aside and looking again at Dragon Head. “There’s only one thing worse than a man who won’t give his word. It’s a man who doesn’t keep it. So, are you a man of honor, or does your word, like hers, mean nothing?”

  Sofia started to backhand Talanov but Dragon Head caught her by the wrist.

  “He mocks us!” Sofia yelled again, twisting away.

  “I don’t know what arrangement you two have,” said Talanov to Dragon Head, “and I don’t really care. She’s your problem, not mine. I’m here because I want to make a trade – the money for Su Yin – but I need to know whether or not you’re a man of your word. I mean, we hear a lot about the Chinese and their code of honor and how it’s a big deal over here, but you’re not Chinese, so maybe your word means nothing.”

  “I was born on this island!” declared Dragon Head, his eyes flashing with anger.

  Talanov replied with a shrug.

  Dragon Head drew to within inches of Talanov’s face. His muscles were taut and veins stood out on both sides of his neck. “Do you think I’m a man without honor? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “I’m not trying to insult you, Mr. Moran, but I don’t know who I’m dealing with. And if you’re going to kill us anyway, then your promise to let Su Yin go in exchange for the money . . . well, it doesn’t really mean very much, now, does it?”

  Dragon Head swept his hand in a full circle around the gym, where more than a hundred pairs of eyes were watching. “Do you think these men would be following me if I wasn’t a man of honor? They’re Chinese, Colonel, every single one of them, and honor means something to them just like it does to me. All Shí bèi live by a code of honor.”

  “If that’s the case, then I want you to give me your word that as soon as I hand over the money, you’ll release Su Yin, alive and unharmed, and then leave us alone from now on. And that’s all of us – the three kids, my friends, me – and that’s here, in the States, wherever we are.”

  While Talanov waited for an answer and everyone in the gym continued to watch, Straw Sandal spoke quietly in the ear of her father. When she was finished, Dragon Head nodded thoughtfully.

  “What did she say?” asked Talanov, glancing briefly at Straw Sandal, then back at Dragon Head.

  “I don’t see that it’s your concern.”

  “It is if she’s planning a double-cross,” Talanov replied.

  “I tell my father to be careful what he says to you,” Straw Sandal said, “because once a Shí bèi gives his word, it is binding on us all to keep that promise.”

  “Good to know,” said Talanov. “So, what’s it going to be? Do we have a deal?”

  After a moment’s thought, Dragon Head nodded. “We have a deal. You’ve got my word.”

  “All right. Which bank are we talking about?”

  “The Sun Cheng Financial Group, Limited. Straw Sandal will take you there.”

  “I’ll find it,” Talanov replied. “I won’t risk her or anyone else complicating things at the bank. In the meantime, I need you set up an escrow account and email me the number. Once I get that number and locate the funds, I’ll deposit them into the escrow account, then email you a written confirmation. Once I have Su Yin, I’ll release the funds.”

  “You are not in charge!” yelled Sofia, striding toward Talanov with her pistol aimed directly at his face. She stopped with the silencer pressed directly against his forehead, her face livid with anger, her eyes wild with hatred.

  A shout from Dragon Head did nothing, and for a long moment, time seemed to stop.

  Then came a blur of hand movements that saw Talanov block the gun away from his face while grabbing Sofia’s wrist, lifting it upward while sliding deftly beneath Sofia’s outstretched arm, then twisting her arm up behind her, where he wrenched the pistol from her hand and shoved her to the floor. By the time Sofia had scrambled to her feet, Talanov had ejected the magazine, cleared the chamber, and handed all of the pieces to Dragon Head.

  “If I were you, I’d watch your back,” advised Talanov.

  Sofia charged Talanov but Dragon Head stopped her. When Sofia started to protest, Dragon Head stopped her.

  Looking back at Talanov, Dragon Head said, “You’ll have that number within the hour.” He then told Straw Sandal to set up the account.

  “Send me a text when you have it,” said Talanov.

  “What is your phone number?” asked Straw Sandal.

  Talanov told her.

  Straw Sandal worked the screen of her phone and entered the number into her directory.

  “And if I need to reach you?” asked Talanov.

  Straw Sandal worked her phone again and sent Talanov a text. She then turned and left the gym.

  Talanov started to follow but Dragon Head grabbed him by the arm. “Don’t make me do something unpleasant, Colonel. Fulfill your end of the bargain. Find me those funds.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “You will do more than your best,” Sofia said, landing a kick into Talanov’s ribs, followed by a backfist that snapped Talanov’s head
back and toppled him to the floor, where he rolled onto his side, gasping, his nose bleeding, one eyebrow gashed. “Or that is just the beginning of what I will do to you and your friends.”

  After a stern rebuke for Sofia, Dragon Head snapped his fingers and two Shí bèi fighters lifted Talanov to his feet, dragged him through the foyer and out the front door, where they tossed him onto the sidewalk.

  And with a groan, Talanov struggled to his feet and began his slow walk back to the hotel.

  CHAPTER 55

  It was late afternoon when Alpha turned off the mountain highway onto a gravel road that was little more than a pair of weedy ruts that wound their way into the forest. His military GPS indicated it to be a fire road not shown on civilian maps. That meant there would be little risk of civilian interference.

  A short way into the forest was a small clearing, where Alpha stopped the SUV and switched off the ignition. It was not as deep into the forest as he would have preferred, but fire roads often grew narrower and more treacherous the higher they climbed, especially when they were not regularly maintained, which this one was not.

  Alpha opened his door and got out. “I love the high country,” he said, stretching.

  “You can have it,” Bravo replied. “I’ll take tequila with senoritas. Pee break. Back in a minute.”

  While Bravo stepped away to urinate, Alpha savored the smell of dry leaves and pine needles, which was different than the damp fragrance of the coastal redwoods near San Francisco. Up here, it was drier. Not to mention wild and remote, which meant anyone searching for Babikov would never find his body.

  It was a shame that Babikov had to be killed. He admired the former Soviet commando for his fighting skills. All warriors earned his respect, even if that warrior happened to be the enemy.

  How Babikov got into the United States in the first place was still a mystery. There was no information on the man apart from some old CIA records from the eighties, when Talanov and Babikov were two of the most feared agents the Soviet Union had ever produced. And whereas Talanov was known for his slick manner and mental prowess, Babikov was known to be a cross between Chuck Norris and a grizzly bear. And whereas Talanov would regularly outsmart Western agents, Babikov would simply break them in half.

  Then Babikov appeared to have found God. What a pity. He would have enjoyed challenging the old warrior to a fight, which wouldn’t be much of a fight if Babikov had become the kind of man who turned the other cheek. He would much rather fight the grizzly bear. As for ”finding God,” how did a person find something that doesn’t exist? At least he hoped God didn’t exist. Otherwise, he was in a shitload of trouble.

  What had caused Babikov to change? What would cause a feared commando to become a wimp? Lots of people turned to God when they saw the end of the road. Except Babikov did not fit the image of someone fearing the end. In fact, he seemed to fear nothing.

  Seeing Bravo emerge from the weeds, Alpha retrieved the shovel he had purchased from a twenty-four-hour supercenter in Sonora. He tossed it to Bravo, who stuck it in the ground before moving to the rear door of the SUV, where he readied his assault rifle.

  Alpha opened the door, grabbed Ginie by the arm, and pulled her out. Her hands were still zip-tied behind her and Alpha made her kneel on the ground a few feet away. He then pulled Emily out and made her do the same.

  Babikov would be more difficult. Not only was he solid muscle and a lot heavier, but he was also a former Spetsnaz commando who possessed the capability to kill an opponent with a knee or a foot. So Alpha warned him not to try anything stupid. If he did, Bravo would shoot his wife.

  “Why should I make your job easier?” Zak asked. “You’re going to shoot us anyway.”

  “Only if Talanov decides not to cooperate,” Alpha replied. “If he does, then all of you go free.”

  “Not likely, since we’ve seen your faces and can testify as to what you’ve done.”

  “For all intents and purposes, we don’t exist. There are no photos of us on file, so there’s no one you can identify.”

  “Then why are we prisoners? What do you need Talanov to do?”

  “No idea. I’m merely following orders and those orders are to keep you safe.”

  “Is that what you call this? Safe?”

  “Get out of the vehicle,” said Alpha.

  Zak scooted his way out of the vehicle and stood.

  “Over there with the others,” instructed Alpha, motioning with his assault rifle.

  “I need to take a leak.”

  “Too bad.”

  “You’ve got my wife. I won’t try anything.”

  Alpha scrutinized Zak, who did not appear to be feigning weakness with some pathetic stance. He had asked the question simply and respectfully, and he admired that. “Okay,” he said, “but if you do try something, and I mean anything but watering the grass, I will shoot your wife.”

  “Understood,” Zak replied.

  “Turn around,” said Alpha, “and I’ll cut off the zip-tie.”

  Zak turned around and extended his wrists toward Alpha, who tossed his assault rifle to Bravo, then pulled a military hunting knife from its sheath and used it to slice the zip-ties off Zak’s wrists. Stepping back, Alpha replaced his knife and caught the assault rifle tossed back to him by Bravo.

  Once Zak had shaken his arms and stretched, Alpha motioned him toward some tall grass near the edge of the fire road. With his back to the others, Zak unzipped his cargos and urinated into the grass. When finished, he zipped up his pants and turned around.

  When Zak rejoined the others, Bravo tossed three bottles of water and three energy bars onto the ground near Zak’s feet. “Give some to the women,” he said.

  “Are you going to cut them loose?”

  “Nope.”

  “But they can’t eat or drink.”

  “That’s why they have you.”

  Zak opened the first bottle of water and tipped it to Emily’s lips. He then gave some to Ginie. He then unwrapped one of the energy bars, broke it into bite-sized pieces and gave bites to Emily and Ginie.

  When Zak was finished, Alpha tossed him the shovel. “Start digging,” he said.

  CHAPTER 56

  Dragon Head’s penthouse occupied the entire top floor of the warehouse. At one end was a living room, with a bank of angled windows in a pitched ceiling that afforded a panoramic view of Hong Kong’s majestic skyline. Other windows overlooked the neon bustle of the street below. At the other end of the penthouse was the master bedroom, which included the bedroom itself, a sitting room, dressing room, walk-in closets, and, of course, a spacious master bath. In between these areas was a luxury kitchen, wine cellar, and pantry.

  Having stormed upstairs after her encounter with Talanov, Sofia charged into her closet, laid her pistol on a shelf and began undressing. Having followed her, Dragon Head paused in the doorway to admire her lean but muscular six-foot figure. Aside from tracks of scars, her skin was soft and firm, her muscles well defined, her posture erect. Across one shoulder and along the upper portion of her right arm was an elaborate tattoo of a dragon.

  “Your hatred for Talanov runs deep,” Dragon Head remarked.

  “He betrayed me!” was Sofia’s reply.

  “He said you tried killing him first.”

  Sofia stepped out of her underwear but did not reply.

  “Why would you do that?” asked Dragon Head.

  Sofia pushed past Dragon Head, entered the bathroom, and turned on the shower.

  “Was it betrayal . . . or rejection?” asked Dragon Head.

  Sofia stiffened but did not reply.

  “Are you in love with him?” Dragon Head asked.

  Sofia’s face hardened, and without a word, she stepped into the hissing torrent.

  Downstairs, in a long corridor at the other end of the building, the old Shí bèi fighter opened the storage room door and looked in at Su Yin. She was seated in the far corner of the room on a slatted bamboo mat, her knees drawn up to her chest.
Nearby was a pillow and blanket, and next to these was an empty water bottle.

  “Bathroom? asked the old fighter. It was one of the few English words that he knew.

  Su Yin shook her head.

  The old guard’s full head of hair made him look younger than he was. He was still in relatively good physical condition, but was approaching eighty, so the young fighters did not trust him with their lives, especially in fights with rival gangs, where speed and strength were required. That’s why he had been relegated to passive duties like guarding Su Yin.

  Several young fighters passed him in the hall and he bowed to them. The young fighters simply ignored him.

  The old guard watched them disappear down the corridor into the gym. The highest is revealed in the lowest, he thought once they had disappeared, which was why he was treating Su Yin with kindness and respect, unlike the arrogant young fighters, who had not yet learned that a man’s character is revealed in the way he treats the lowly.

  The old guard stepped into the storage room and picked up the empty water bottle. When he did, Su Yin scooted away.

  “Bié dānxīn,” the old guard said, telling Su Yin not to worry. He smiled and stepped out into the corridor to refill the bottle.

  To his left was the wooden stool where he sat while on duty. On the floor beside the stool was a large bottle of water, and beside this was a wooden bowl of hongshupian, which were deep-fried sweet potato chips. The old guard used his large water bottle to fill Su Yin’s small bottle, then took it back in to her with his bowl of chips. When he approached Su Yin, she looked away. The old guard placed the chips and water on the floor near her feet. Su Yin looked up at him and the old guard made an eating motion with his hands, and with a nod and a smile, he backed out of the cell and locked the door. He then went to the kitchen for more chips.

  The kitchen was like most commercial kitchens: tile floor, two stainless steel counters, three large refrigerators, two sinks, and a twelve-burner stove. In the center of one of the stainless steel counters was a basket of fruit containing apples, dragon fruit, jujube, pomelo, and mangosteen.