The Deaths of Tao Page 14

“Something like that,” she said offhandedly.

  Baji had already given her the lowdown on Marco and Ahngr. Ahngr was an active Prophus in medieval Europe. While Tao hated Ahngr, Baji and he shared a much more pleasant history. Jill was going to leave it at that but couldn’t help herself. “I hear you and Roen went to war a few times in Egypt.”

  “Pardon my saying so,” he sniffed, “but your husband has quite a chip on his shoulder. Hardly a war though, more a tiff. Ahngr and Tao had wars. What Roen and I had was nothing more than a disagreement among pack leaders. I must say, I had my concerns when Paula asked me to run your security detail. What kind of person would marry him, after all? However, I have been pleasantly surprised.”

  Something in Jill snapped. She had had enough of all this Roen bashing. Between Baji and her parents and now this near stranger, this was more than she could take. Roen might be an insensitive idiot, but he was her insensitive idiot.

  She stuck a finger in his face. “Cut it out. No one bad-mouths Roen but me. We might be on the outs, but he’s still my husband.”

  Ahem.

  “You too, Baji. Honestly, I’m tired of everyone crapping on him. That’s my job. I’ll deal with him however I see fit. You’ll have to learn to live with him because I say so.”

  There was a pause in the conversation as they ran up a steep eight percent incline. They reached the apex and he finally capitulated, signaling for a stop. Jill gave him credit for keeping up this long. He bent over and sucked in large gulps of air. Jill felt lightly winded but was otherwise ready to keep going.

  “You gave me quite a go there,” he said, still heaving. “If that’s your warm up, I would hate to see what your actual run looks like.”

  They took a break at the top of the hill. It overlooked a large forested area that continued up to the thin dark line that was Belmont Bay. The morning sky above that continued, turning progressively lighter shades of blue.

  “I owe you an apology,” Marco said. “First concerning Roen; he and I have our differences and naturally, you two being separated, I thought we would agree. I will refrain from referring to him in a negative light. Secondly, you are in much better shape than stated in the reports.”

  Man enough to apologize when wrong.

  “Good trait for a guy.”

  “Apology accepted,” Jill replied. “You don’t swim 2.4 miles, bike a hundred twelve, and then run a marathon, and be out of shape.”

  “Of course,” Marco conceded. “Let’s move on to self-defense. How about a few rounds of fisticuffs, shall we?” He gestured to a small clearing.

  Maybe you spoke too soon.

  “God help me.”

  Jill cursed. This wasn’t going to be fun. Her hand-to-hand combat training consisted of all of five weeks during basic and four years of Billy Blanks to techno music.

  But God didn’t help. The melee was short, brutal, and embarrassing. The first round, Marco treated her with more respect than she deserved. At first, Jill did alright. She had taken the required boxing classes, and her punches were crisp. He complimented her clean form. It was when he went on the offensive that she fell apart. She was too slow to block his attacks, and the round ended with a hip toss that left Jill writhing on the dirt.

  Marco rubbed his chin and shook his head. “Unfortunately, you fight as well as I feared.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded.

  “You fight like a lady, which, by the way, is a compliment of sorts.”

  “Sure doesn’t sound like it.”

  “It isn’t really,” he admitted. “Shall we go again?”

  In the second round, things got worse. This time Marco put her through a series of tactical scenarios, gauging her response to attacks from behind, being tackled to the ground, and being put in a choke hold. She failed every single one. Even Marco looked discouraged by the end of the round.

  Lastly, he tested her firearms skill. This she performed better at. In all the missions she’d ever run, not once had she ever had to throw a punch. She fired pistols plenty, though. She was also fond of the gun range and practiced regularly.

  After two hours, Marco gave a frank and brutal assessment. “The good news is we won’t have to work your hand to hand fighting. The bad news is, it’s because you’re basically helpless unless we put you through a yearlong program. However, your skill with a pistol is better than I expected and your accuracy is... average, which is again better than I expected.”

  “So I’m hopeless?” Jill’s heart sank. She wasn’t a fan of fighting anyway, but it annoyed her that he validated her ineptitude.

  “I wouldn’t say that,” he said. “I just have a different plan for you. You don’t have the strength or reflexes to match fists with the Genjix. That requires years of training. However, you are naturally quick and agile, and you can run like a gazelle. Have you ever heard of free running?”

  I like his plan. It will work with your strengths.

  “You mean like not running in a totalitarian country?” she joked. He gave her a blank look. Obviously, the humor was lost on him.

  “I mean like this,” he said. He turned and ran toward a large boulder that was at least as tall as he was. She gasped when he jumped at the boulder and somehow scampered to the top. Then he flipped off it gracefully, landing softly and somersaulting onto his feet. He continued running toward a tree and grabbed a branch as he ran past, flipping until he perched on top of it. Jill wasn’t sure if she was supposed to clap.

  “I don’t understand,” she said with a frown on her face. “You want me to do circus acts when I fight the Genjix?”

  “No,” he grinned, jumping down. “I’m going to teach you to slip away from danger and become a ninja.”

  SIXTEEN

  THE SEARCH

  The Quasing kingdom in Africa was immense. With our influence and the natural intelligence and hands of the primates, we gathered strength until we were many hundreds of thousands again. It was a far cry from the six million on the ship before the crash, but still a remarkable feat to have brought so many together.

  The Council had grander ambitions, though. They wanted more, yet these primates were at the end of their evolutionary path. We could not advance further with them. It was then that several of our searchers returned with information about new species of bi-pedals, the Neanderthals and the Cro-Magnons.

  Tao

  Roen watched with a bemused expression as the barefoot old men in white undershirts played mahjong at the small table in the dimly lit room at the back of the warehouse. These four underworld bosses combined controlled twenty-seven percent of the docks, five percent of parliament, and sixteen percent of the chip market in Taiwan. What was even more amazing was that the bald guy on the left was blood enemies with the fat guy on the right. While both were part of the Bamboo Union, they led separate divisions that often warred over turf.

  The fight between the Crane and the Tiger divisions had raged for twenty years now, yet these two still played mahjong together at least once a month. It went to show – either the Taiwanese were really good at keeping business and personal life separate – or good mahjong players shouldn’t be killed because they’re hard to find.

  Contrary to the Genjix, the Prophus had no qualms cooperating with the criminal elements of human society. The Genjix never had any use for the triads, yakuza, Ordo Templi Orientis, or any other secret societies of the sort. They were considered too autonomous and difficult to control. In fact, it was the Genjix who were responsible for the destruction of several of these groups.

  These conflicts made the triads a strange but natural ally of the Prophus. Over the years, they had forged a loose alliance with many of the underground groups, sometimes venturing as far as integrating them into the Prophus, as they had with the Hashshashins during the thirteenth century, or simply by keeping them at a wary arm’s length, as with the Italian and Russian mobs.

  The local connection the Prophus had in Taiwan was with the powerful Bamboo Un
ion syndicate. Though weakened by Genjix expansion, the organization still held sway over the island and was involved in many aspects of Taiwan’s society. The mahjong game the four men partook in was part of their monthly sit-down, during which the major players hashed out their differences. They must have had a lot to talk about, because they kept Roen and Hutch waiting over an hour.

  Hutch, standing next to Roen, coughed and fidgeted with his jacket. Thirty-six gangsters, dressed to the nines, surrounded the small table, drawn guns half pointing at them and half at each other. Roen poked Hutch and gave him the don’t-get-us-shot glare. The gangsters were already on edge. The last thing they needed was to see an anxious foreigner making sudden moves.

  Sixteen behind you. Ten on both sides. All armed and probably awful shots. Four bosses in front. Oh, and you have Hutch, the narcoleptic guard. You got a plan to get out of this?

  Roen swiveled his head to his left and counted the number of armed thugs wielding bats, machetes, and guns, and then he counted the ones to his right.

  He shrugged. “I got nothing.”

  I find it ironic that you had a plan to fight your way out of Prophus Command, but not out of a triad warehouse. I am starting to doubt your loyalties.

  “Or intelligence.”

  Or will to live.

  “Or delusions of invincibility.”

  Okay. You win this one.

  Roen and an increasingly nervous Hutch waited another twenty minutes for the four old underwear-wearing mobsters to finish their game. His faithful compatriot had taken to standing at attention as if he was in the North Korean army. Roen occupied the time by debating hypothetical historical scenarios with Tao. This debate in particular was what would have happened if Fanya Kaplan, a Genjix agent, had been successful in assassinating Vladimir Lenin. Roen believed that without Lenin, the communists wouldn’t have unified to defeat the Mensheviks. Tao believed otherwise.

  “No way Stalin could have wrangled them all together. He was just a jerk with a mustache back then. What’s with all these warlords and mustaches? Maybe I should grow one.”

  Because looking like a Seventies porn star will make you a better agent.

  “I’m just kind of bored of my face.”

  You should burn half of it off like Dylan. You would be much more interesting. Why are we discussing you again? I thought we were talking about Lenin. And, yes, having met Stalin, I believe he would still have consolidated power, though the succession might have been more bloody.

  Their conversation was interrupted when Hutch nudged him. Roen looked up and noticed the four pajama-party men looking his way. The one in the far back beckoned them closer.

  They are ready. I am going to tell you what to say in English first and then you repeat it in Mandarin.

  “Follow my lead,” Roen whispered as he walked to the table and bowed. The four maintained bored expressions as he presented a stack of half million Taiwanese dollars as a gift. Roen bowed again and took a step backward next to Hutch.

  One would think they would be happy being presented free money.

  “No kidding, right?”

  The old man on the right picked his nose and then spoke in a clear voice. “It has been a long time since the Prophus has come to us. Our island has not seen your kind for many years. We thought with the Genjix’s great power on the mainland, that you all were dead. After all, why have you not appeared to fight them?”

  “Our enemy is your enemy, big man,” Roen struggled with the broken Mandarin, “and we still fight to this day.”

  “A poor job then,” the lazy-eyed man on the left said. “These Genjix have no sense of business. They are unwilling to negotiate, moving like locusts across our operations and listening neither to reason nor overtures. Beasts like them cannot be tamed, only put down.”

  They do not understand the way of the people.

  Roen repeated the message.

  “And it seems neither do the Prophus,” the one with his back to them said. Roen decided to call him Bug Eyes because of his tremendously large glasses that covered half his face. Bug Eyes shook a finger at him. “The Prophus claim to be friends, yet when their enemies come and take our livelihood, they are nowhere to be found. Friends do not abandon friends.”

  Roen bowed again. “The Prophus beg forgiveness. The fight has gone poorly, but we assure you we still fight to the last.”

  Catfish Face, the one in the far back, waved the other three off. “Friends know friends are busy. The Prophus have been family for hundreds of years. You come with a request. What do you wish?”

  At least one of the four amigos was on his side. Booger Picker and Bug Eyes seemed irritated while Lazy Eyes and Catfish Face were far more receptive. Roen first asked if any of the divisions had seen Dylan, describing his friend physically in less than flattering detail.

  The syndicates should be Dylan’s first contact for supplies. Guns were illegal on the island and the few safe houses here were not equipped with weapons, another victim of Prophus budget cuts. In the end, he received little actionable information, just like every other lead the team had pursued over the past two weeks. There were scattered rumors of a “burned snowman” that could only refer to Dylan, but there weren’t leads behind those rumors. All the Bamboo Union bosses would acknowledge were sightings, be it two weeks or five days ago, at the illegal casino or market or docks, but nothing more. They almost seemed intentionally vague.

  Roen knew the bosses were wary of dealing with the Prophus because they did not want to incur the wrath of the Genjix. The triads must have been hit really hard. All they wanted now was to lie low and wait things out. Little did they realize that if things continued this way, there would be nothing to wait out.

  “We are seeking information regarding Genjix trade operations. Your noble organizations control much of the labor that works the trade in the airports and ports. Surely there is information you might share with friends,” Roen pleaded.

  “We have an arrangement with the Genjix,” Bug Eyes remarked. “They made it perfectly clear what they want on this island. As long as we are invisible and do not affect their dock operations, we are left alone.”

  “Abandon markets the Genjix have an interest in and they leave you alone?” Roen muttered in English. “Doesn’t sound like much of an arrangement to me. More like a full capitulation.”

  The four bosses’ face darkened. Roen bit his lip and mentally rapped himself on the side of the head. Of course these guys understood English. They were forcing Roen to speak their tongue as a sign of deference.

  That or they enjoy listening to you butcher their language. He did just give away information on the Genjix operation. There are a dozen major ports in Taiwan though.

  “You speak without knowledge,” Booger Picker growled. “What else do you wish to waste our time about? Otherwise, be on your way.” He was openly scowling and went as far as to nod toward someone off to the side. He heard the snap of several safeties going off and Hutch’s quick intake of breath.

  You just do not know when to not improvise, do you?

  Roen bowed again hastily. “I just mean that it is wrong of the Genjix to take what is yours without offering fair value. It is an injustice the Prophus will remedy soon.”

  He spent the next several seconds apologizing profusely, bowing so many times his back ached. Roen snuck a peek up at the group. Booger Picker was still scowling but Catfish Face nodded ever so slightly. At least he was getting through to someone. It was quick, barely an exchange of glances. Of course, they were hiding something. Something they didn’t want him to know. The clues were slight and barely noticeable: a quick aversion of the eyes or a little hesitation in their voice. And then just like that, it was gone. Booger Picker abruptly ended the meeting with a dismissive tone, telling him any further questions would be a waste of their time. Bug Eyes even went as far as to admonish him for meddling in syndicate affairs and warned him to stay out of the southern part of the island, which he claimed was his jurisdiction
.

  Roen was tempted to swipe the half million Taiwanese dollars off the table and make a break for it. At the end of the day, Tao and approximately twenty automatic rifles talked him down from his brazen stupidity.

  That is the difference between Edward and you. I admit that once you dedicated yourself, you were a fast learner and now could be Edward good. However, he was never foolhardy. Your old sense of self-preservation was one of your redeeming qualities. Now, I feel like I am always talking you off the ledge. You are not a comic book hero after all.

  “If I were, I’d be Batman.”

  No, you would be Manikin.

  “Ooh, obscure yet fitting reference. Bonus points for that. Are you the primeval goo or the ape-man?”

  In this relationship, you would be the goo.

  Roen and Hutch left the meeting pretty much empty-handed. If they weren’t at a dead end now, they would be soon. The Bamboo Union had the widest network out of the gangs, so Roen had hoped they could provide a lead. Earlier this week, Faust and Jim had approached the two other large gangs, the Celestial Way and Four Seas, and had both came back empty-handed as well.

  Roen stewed as they were ushered out by the henchmen. These guys basically just took his money and ignored him. He could see this kind of crap from the Russians or the Italians, but not from the triads. It was inappropriate for an Asian syndicate to act this dishonorably.

  Calm down. It is what it is. Seventeen thousand will not break the bank.

  “Tao, I lived on fifty bucks a week for food for the past eight months. Don’t tell me I couldn’t find a better use for that dough than give it to a bunch of millionaire gangsters.”

  As they turned the corner, one of the gangsters sauntered up next to them. Roen guessed by his suit that he was some sort of higher-up. The gangster leaned in and passed him a white envelope.

  “Han Da-Ge offers a gift and asks your fathers to simply remember the Dragon division in the future in a preferable light,” he nodded before veering off back into the shadows.

  In case you are wondering, Da Ge Han was the one in the far back: Catfish Face.