WE HAVE CONTACT (The Kurtherian Gambit Book 12)

by Michael Anderle

  He looked around, “And,” he continued, “I really hate snakes.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Kaifeng, Henan Province

  Second Lt. Zi Shun had looked around the dark, small restaurant before he saw his group at a back table. He nodded his head to the guy behind the bar and stuck his finger up to tell him he wanted a beer.

  Dodging a harried waitress who didn’t realize he was there, Shun made his way between two full tables and squeezed into the small table and nodded to the group. Everyone was nursing their own beers and by how full their beers were, he wasn’t far behind them. A moment later, the waitress brought him his and Zhu paid her. “Grab the next round,” Zhu told him.

  “So, is it true?” Zhu asked, keeping their voices down. They weren’t in uniform, and this was the least likely place to be having this conversation the four could think of to discuss what they knew and what they thought they knew.

  And what rumor said.

  Rumor, the bane of the top brass in every military in every country since people had joined together to fight others. It spread faster than it could be tracked, it was more virulent than mustard gas, and it killed people by sucking their belief and trust in the mission as surely as a bullet at the wrong time.

  “Look,” Shun began, “let’s get this straight. What I’ve got are rumor and comments. I don’t have anything that your mother probably already told you before she tucked you in bed.”

  “My mother never told me about people turning into cats,” Bai said.

  Zhu slapped his arm, “Bai, that’s because you're city born. Those in the city don’t know the old stories, they don’t pass them down.”

  “I remember,” Shun interrupted before the two of them could get into the same old fight they always did. Zhu was sharper, but born in the country, and Bai was a little slower but lorded his city experience over Zhu. “I remember the stories of the Sacred Clan my mother told me. How they had Kings that run the clan out in the countryside. They are worse than the stories of silent warriors coming in the night to grab bad boys in their sleep. You can supposedly tell a Sacred Clan member from their eyes.”

  “Yellow,” Jian spoke. The three turned to their normally quiet friend. He held his beer in both hands like he was praying to it, “yellow eyes. Like a cat’s, their pupils slit up and down.”

  Then, that was it. Shun waited another ten seconds for him to add anything, but Jian was done. He shrugged, “Yes, the pupils I have heard about.”

  “So, the Kings are the powerful ones?” Bai asked, “Do I have this correct?”

  “No,” Jian interrupted a second time. Damn near a record, being twice in one night. “They are waiting for a leader, a Leopard Empress for them to follow.”

  Shun’s face went slack. “Did you say a Leopard Empress?” The stories his mother told him, and any he had ever heard, never mentioned a Leopard Empress. Jian just nodded.

  Shun looked around the restaurant casually before leaning towards his friends, “Then the rumors might be true. I’ve never heard about the Leopard Empress, have you, Zhu?” Zhu shook his head. Bai shrugged, but he didn’t know any of the stories. “No? Me neither. But, the rumors running back on the base say the Sacred Clan has a Leopard Empress and she growls from her temple in the mountains at night.”

  “What do we care if she growls?” Bai asked, “Wouldn’t she die with a bullet shot, like any other leopard?”

  Bai was surprised when all three of his team members looked at him and shook their heads, “What, she can’t be killed?”

  “Of course,” Shun agreed, “We just don’t know how to do it. In the stories I know, you can’t kill most of the Sacred Clan with simple bullets, or stabbing them. That assumes you could do either one. They are so fast, you can’t see them.”

  “Silver,” Jian added, his third comment.

  “Ok,” Bai said, “that’s the third comment you have made. Something is bugging you about this, why don’t you just tell us what you know so we all don’t have whiplash every time you speak?”

  Jian took a long drink of his beer and nodded sharply, like he had a long discussion with himself and finally the one who wanted to talk won.

  “The Sacred Clan and their stories are relevant in my family. Why I can’t tell you.” He looked to his friends, “Not because I don’t want to, but I can’t. My mother would never share why she knew so much, and my father would get upset if I even mentioned it to them. I never saw my grandparents, and if my parents had brothers and sisters, they never spoke to them. So, no cousins.”

  The three friends nodded their understanding, “I’ve tried to find out more, but in secret. Always looking over my shoulder.” Jian lifted his bottle of beer to the bartender and Shun looked at the other two bottles and his own and stuck his hand up beside Jian’s with four fingers.

  The four men watched as the waitress swept by the bartender and grabbed the four beers and brought them to their table. They handed the waitress the empties and the men turned to speak again.

  The waitress raised an eyebrow to the bartender who shook his head and shrugged. She was surprised. Normally, when four single men were sitting speaking with each other, they would always ogle her as she walked away. She made sure to give them a good show, it helped with the tips. Unfortunately, the bartender Ai just informed her the show was for nothing.

  Something was more interesting than her. She frowned, she hoped it didn’t screw up her tip, she needed a little extra cash for the broken air conditioner.

  Jian continued his discussion, “So, I have looked, and the closest stories I have to the Sacred Clan information my mom shared was the werewolf stories from old Europe and now American films. My mom mentioned one time that silver hurts them. When I asked her a couple of stories later about that comment, she acted like she didn’t know what I was talking about. The problem was, I could see fear in her eyes, like knowing that information could be dangerous.”

  “To her?” Zhu interrupted but Jian shook his head.

  “To me.” Jian took a drink and closed his hands back around the bottle, condensation sliding down the side. “Like someone might try to silence me for knowing the information.” Jian stopped talking, and the three friends figured he had just used up a month of talking in one sitting.

  “So, let’s assume we have some accurate information,” Shun broke the contemplative silence around the booth. “The Sacred Clan is real, they are some sort of shape-shifters like Werewolves, and they can be harmed by silver. They are tough to kill, and our incredible leaders want us to go kill some of them.”

  “Up in the mountains in Hubei,” Zhu added.

  “Dropping in by parachute,” Bai agreed.

  “In the dark.” Shun finally summed it up. “Guys, this doesn’t sound right. We can’t get any heavy guns into those mountains, we have to helicopter in…”

  Zhu interrupted, “Except they don’t want the noise, so we get to try and parachute in the dark. One of the most creative ways to splat on the ground ever suggested.”

  “Why aren’t the leaders dropping in by parachute?” Bai asked. Jian picked his bottle of beer up and waited for Bai to clink his against it.

  Shun turned his hand palm up, “Just our command structure since we are the paratroopers. Apparently, with all of the technology available, it will be like they are right with us, giving all of the unwanted and unnecessary commands we need in real time.”

  “No, that isn’t everyone,” Zhu added. The three friends turned to him, “I’ve heard we will have four scientists going as well. They are going to pick out a small group to ferry those four and help them.”

  “Well, may the elders smile benevolently on whoever gets picked for that useless task,” Shun said.

  —

  Fourteen hours later, Shun was biting his tongue from delivering a scathing and disrespectful mouthful to his long dead ancestors for failing to keep him and his three friends from having to help the scientists.

  —

  Two da
ys later, when the four tired paratroopers entered the restaurant, they lifted their hands to the bartender who racked up their favorite beer and called for the waitress to set them up at their table in the back.

  “Can you believe,” Zhu bitched, “they thought we would be carrying their parachutes for them?”

  “I’ll carry their parachutes,” Bai agreed, sitting down in the booth and moving so Jian could sit next to him, “all the way to the ground, where I will dump it on his fat, intelligent ass after he has suffered his last and very fatal, fall.”

  Zhu moved next to Bai as Shun slid into the booth last, “The woman is the worst. It is like she is a special little princess herself. The only one worth acknowledging here as a person is the computer nerd.”

  “That’s because he plays video games from World War II,” Zhu said.

  “Has anyone got leads on silver bullets?” Bai asked.

  Three men shook their heads and Shun shrugged his shoulders.

  The waitress came over and dropped off their beers, and the men ordered their meal for the night. Taking their orders, she left.

  “Not outright, but I have a possibility that we can get some silver coatings. We produce the rounds; they will coat the bullets with a very thin layer of silver.” Shun looked over to Jian, “Do you think this will work?”

  Jian pursed his lips, “I think so. If you get this person, tell them to cut an X on the top of the bullet. If the round hits them, we want the silver to flake off in their bodies. I don’t think it will kill them, but it will make us a less tasty target.”

  “Did you have to use the word tasty?” Zhu added, his face looking a little sick, “I haven’t eaten yet, Jian.”

  “None of us have,” Bai agreed, “so if you aren’t going to eat, can I have your plate?”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Berlin, Germany

  Melissa dropped her lunch box down on the table. Terry looked up at her and grimaced, “I can’t say that frown looks good on your face, what happened?”

  Sitting with a thump and a loud sigh, she said, “What didn’t happen? Those that want to play God…”

  “You mean the government wags?” Terry interrupted.

  “The very same,” she opened her box and grabbed the cookie, “they are doing exactly what you thought they shouldn’t do.”

  “Sending some of us into Radical Islamist-controlled territory?” She nodded as she chewed her cookie. “Do we know the split up of the teams?” She nodded while she chewed and pointed to the both of them, “Ok, you and I are on a team. Do we have the American, the German or the French Wags?” She pointed to him, “Ok, the American wags…wonderful.” Terry looked off into the distance.

  Melissa watched his eyes, they seemed calculating. She swallowed and asked, “Why? What are you thinking?”

  “Well,” he spoke to her, but continued staring at nothing out the window, “I do know a couple of the guys on the security team from the Americans, so I’m going to see if they will permit me to carry heavier weapons.”

  “Why would, or wouldn’t they, allow you to carry heavy?” Melissa asked, finishing off her cookie, “You going to eat your cookie?” Terry smiled and pushed his box over to her.

  The box had his cookie still wrapped in the bottom, waiting for her. His cookie sacrifice was immediately accepted.

  Terry turned back to Melissa, “Because I have some experience in the sand pit, but I went merc after I got out. I was a little young and foolish with what I said about a couple of superiors when I got out ten years ago. Probably should have apologized, but I have a theory that with testosterone comes a secondary chemical that constitutionally causes a guy to refuse to admit he is wrong. It’s hard to fight this chemical when you are younger, you have more testosterone and therefore more assholious.”

  Melissa snorted, almost spewing Terry with cookie crumbs. She quickly covered her mouth, but said, “Sorry ... assholious?”

  “Yeah,” he grinned, “my name for the chemical. I figure the ratio of assholious to testosterone is four to one.”

  “That,” she finally said, wiping her mouth, “is a pretty large amount.”

  “Oh, it gets better. There is a natural amount that guys deal with all of the time. So, normal testosterone levels and your assholious level absorption is mostly able to be taken care of by the body’s natural processes. When you get too much testosterone, well the body can’t deal with the assholious so it stores it like fat is used to store calories. Even when the testosterone finally recedes as we get older, we can have years or decades of assholious we still have to deal with.”

  “Don’t you mean the rest of us have to deal with?” she asked.

  “Well, yeah. Ok, I do suppose those of us being assholes are indirectly receiving the feedback from acting that way.”

  “Ok, I figured you had a military background, what with your physique and all. So what got you invited to this little group again? Was it strictly your eidetic memory?”

  Terry looked around their area, making sure no one was within hearing range, “Not exactly, to be truthful there are secondary and tertiary interested parties wondering what is going on. Nothing this big can stay quiet in the areas of power. So, I had a very old contact from my military days reach out to me and suggest it might be a good idea if I were to get involved. I looked up the opportunity with a few of my own contacts and realized the pay was great. I thought, perhaps, we might just have a nice little hot sun bath in the humid South American forests. If I had known we were going back into the sandpit, I probably would have asked for a serious income boost.”

  Melissa raised an eyebrow, “You are really that concerned about it? I mean, they wouldn’t risk all of our lives for this, would they?”

  Terry tried to stifle his laughter, “Are you kidding me? As far as most of the people not in our group are concerned, we are merely pawns in the game. If one, or two of us happened to die? Well, that’s breakage. If the whole group happens to die, well that’s probably somebody’s career or at least a severe slap on the wrist. Watch what's going on, even the wags will eventually realize they are expendable, and it will piss them off, trust me.” Terry said with finality.

  Terry pulled his lunch box back to himself and stuffed his trash inside it, “Where are the other two locations? Please tell me it’s not Hawaii.”

  Melissa grinned, “I wish! No, actually one of them is South America, but the other one, which I’m glad I’m not on, is near the South Pole.”

  Terry made a face, “The South Pole? Aw hell, give me the sandpit any day. I hate the cold, I can’t stand it. I’ll take on a hundred guys facing me on a hot sunny day in the sandpit rather than spend one night in weather that can freeze you so bad your arm will break off.”

  Melissa grinned, “So, you are saying we got the second worst choice of locations this time?”

  Terry grumped, “As far as I can tell, yes. I’m going to go check on those relationships and see if I can get a little extra help with weapons. Maybe they will let me bring something that they won’t check. If so, it might be everything we need.”

  Terry got up from the table and was about walk away before he turned and smiled, “Don’t worry about makeup, I would bring plenty of skin lotion and make sure you look up the rules on what not to wear. If we have to be in any cities, shorts and short sleeves are a huge no-no.” With that, he turned back around and left her to finish her lunch.

  QBS ArchAngel

  Eric’s room was neat. He had spent plenty of time in the military keeping everything properly in order. Even since he had exited the military, he kept the same habits. He had a couple of pictures, one of his brother and his family, and a separate one of his brother's daughter, his niece, on the stand. She was a pre-teen in the picture, although she would probably be in college right now. He had sent money to his brother to make sure she had the opportunity.

  Much like he had sent money to his brother when he was in the military so his brother could have an education.

&n
bsp; Now, he sent the money from a trust fund. As far as his brother knew he had been dead for over 10 years. Hopefully, the pictures were taken of him and the other guys around Bethany Anne hadn’t made him think Eric was still alive. But rather, that the person near Bethany Anne looks almost like his brother.

  “Eric?” The ArchAngels E.I. spoke from his bedroom speakers.

  Eric, sitting on his bed reading, answered, “Yes?”

  “Stephen has asked if you would care to meet him early in the workout room?”