Red Phoenix: A Thomas Caine Thriller (The Thomas Caine Series Book 2)

by Andrew Warren

  “David, I have already had all the treatment I can stand. This life … it has become a curse.”

  Her hand fumbled at her side. She struggled to reach out to him. Fang grabbed her hand and cradled it in his own.

  “My boys … my beautiful boys. Gone.” A tear slipped from the thin sliver of her open eye.

  “My brothers were born … different,” Fang whispered. “They were symbols of the pain and injustice that was inflicted upon you, and Father. But they proved their worth in the end. They gave their lives, so that we may prosper.”

  “Your brothers were a blessing," the woman hissed. "Their hearts were pure, they were kind, gentle spirits. It was you who introduced them to the gangs. You who turned them into dashou … thugs and killers.”

  Fang felt her hand tug away from him. He let go, and it slipped back down onto the bed. His mother turned and looked away from him.

  “Mother, please. You don’t understand, everything I have done has been for—”

  “You were the eldest,” she croaked. “It was your duty to look after your younger brothers. Their shame is yours. It is you who have cursed this family.”

  Fang’s voice rose in volume. “Shame? You mean the gangs? The Triad was the only thing that kept us alive, Mother. After Father died in his foolish display, what was I to do? Nothing? Watch as you struggled to raise two zhoushi ertong, lost children who were not allowed to work, or go to school? Watch while your sickness grew stronger each day?”

  “You are the one who is lost, David. Si and Liu … some thought less of them, yes. The poisons we drank and breathed marked them on the outside, on their skin. But you … you carry that poison still. You carry it inside, in your heart. It has deformed your spirit.”

  Fang stood up. “Enough. You do not know what you are saying. Your mind has grown feeble, but I will still care for you. You will live to see me take my place at the head of the most powerful Triad the world has ever known.”

  “Let me go, David.” Her voice was weak, faint. “I wish for no part in this. And I am so tired. Please, I have suffered enough. Let me go.”

  “You wish to join your husband? Be with my father, and my brothers?”

  She nodded. “This place, what they are doing to me … this is not life. This is eternal death.”

  Fang looked into her old, tired eyes. “Always, you favor them over me. My wishes, my sacrifices mean nothing to you.”

  His face twisted in rage and pain and he grabbed her hand again. She struggled to pull it back, but her weak, aged flesh could not escape Fang’s white-knuckled grip. He squeezed her hand tighter.

  “You think you are the only one who suffers?” he shouted. “I fought, and bled, and killed for this family. I have sacrificed. I have watched governments betray us, punish us, try to grind us under their heels. But I fought back. I became strong. And I made my brothers strong. I have kept you alive, kept this family alive. And I promise you this. You will live to see me grasp the dragon rod in my hands. You will not die until I allow it, you understand? I have given you this time, I will decide when it ends. And you will see me rise!”

  “David, please. You’ll give the poor woman a heart attack.” Iris slinked into the room. She wore a short, tight dress of red beaded silk. The dress ended just above her knees, but a long silk fan trailed from the back and down to the floor. It swept behind her clicking heels like the plumage of an elegant bird.

  “Sir,” a man’s voice called out. It was Lewis. He followed Iris into the room. He was sweating, and his face was red with exertion. “A man in Huagu, an employee at our factory there … he says he has some information about the Americans we are seeking.”

  He held out a cell phone towards Fang.

  Fang dropped his mother’s hand and stepped away from the bed.

  “Give me that,” he snapped. He snatched the phone from Lewis’s hand. “This is Mr. Fang." He listened for a moment. "Yes, yes, your daughter will receive the finest care," he said. "I will arrange for her to receive whatever treatment she needs. Assuming of course, you tell me what I want to know.”

  Fang listened and nodded. He could hear Iris rolling her sticks on the glass table behind him. She laughed, a light titter, as if she were privy to a joke he could not perceive.

  “Very well,” he said into the phone. “Lewis will call you to make the arrangements. Well done, Mr. Lung, you will be rewarded.”

  He hung up the phone and turned to Iris.

  “That was the brother-in-law of the lawyer, the one who escaped the black jail with Sean Tyler. He says Tyler and the American man are coming here, to Shanghai.”

  “Shall I alert the Red Poles?” Lewis asked.

  Iris brushed her long, lacquered nails over the groves and dots of her sticks. She closed her eyes.

  “Joyous Lake over Still Mountain,” she intoned in her husky voice. “A man who searches for game where there is none, shall soon starve. Persistence is not enough. If one does not look in the right way, one will not find what they seek.”

  Fang nodded. “This Sean Tyler … he was working with Huang Ju, the Jade Enclave hacker who broke into my offices. He must be seeking what we also seek. Why else would he come here? Let them enter the city. Follow them, but do not interfere. With any luck, he will lead us straight to the key.”

  Lewis nodded. “Shi pei le.”

  “Iris, watch over Mother,” David said as he and Lewis left the room.

  “Of course, darling.” Iris shot a sideways glance at the elderly woman, and her nose wrinkled with distaste.

  She rolled the bamboo sticks again. A new pattern emerged.

  Fang’s mother moaned and rolled over on her bed. “What is that noise?” she croaked. “Who is there?”

  “Do not fear,” Iris called out. “Soon your son will bring honor to your family, old woman. It has been foretold.”

  She looked down at the sticks and frowned. The hexagram was different than earlier. She had seen this pattern before, last night, after Fang had his way with her.

  She had assumed it was a mistake then. Perhaps her mind was unfocused, her energy weak. She had rolled the sticks again, and read Fang a different fortune.

  But here was the same pattern as before, repeated.

  She collected the sticks and dropped them into her clutch.

  Her heart skipped a beat.

  She could hear the faint call of destiny. The pattern of the sticks… Joyous Lake above Arousing Thunder. A new destiny. A darker destiny.

  An ill omen.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Rebecca eyed the carnage inside the farmhouse and shook her head. She wheeled over to one of the bodies, a heavyset man wearing jeans and a camouflage t-shirt. “This one … you looked up his record?” she asked.

  Josh looked up from the bank of monitors in the corner. “Yeah, Adrian Royce. Same background as Ganda. Former military. Spotty record, discharge. Did a few tours with the usual security contractors, then dropped off the grid. Lapinski’s assembled himself a nice little private army here. Keyes even found a Force Protection Cougar out in the barn. It’s a stripped-down civilian model, but still pretty heavy-duty."

  The air inside the farmhouse was tinged with a thick, heavy scent. The odor was a mix of gunpowder, smoke, and blood. Lapinski, Ganda, and a young man named Matheson had been taken alive. They awaited interrogation, secured in various rooms of the house. The rest of Ted's group were killed in the initial raid. Their bodies were still sprawled across the floor. DuBose snapped pictures and fingerprinted each corpse, as he prepared their action report.

  Rebecca looked at the staircase that led to the second floor of the farmhouse. “Josh, the girl you found … I have to see to her. And we sure as hell can’t bring her down here.”

  Josh eyed the bodies spread out on the floor and nodded. “Yeah. I hear you. Keyes is up there with her now. She seems to have taken a liking to him.”

  He walked over to her and smiled. “Josh Galloway, reporting for escalator duty.” He slid h
is arms under her, lifted her up, and began to carry her up the stairs.

  “Clayton,” he called over his shoulder. “Little help please?”

  Clayton snapped another picture, then set the camera down. “Sorry, sir … just trying to get the exposure right.”

  “It’s an action report, not a coffee table book. Wheelchair, now.”

  Dubose set down the camera, folded up Rebecca’s chair, and began to haul it up the stairs after them.

  Once again, her body tingled as she felt his muscular arms coil around her. She found herself remembering the other night. Those arms, his hands, touching her, moving across her body … she shook her head and blinked.

  Not the time, she thought. You’ve got three dead bodies downstairs, and you still have to interrogate Lapinski. Get your head in the game!

  She resisted the urge to nuzzle his neck.

  They reached the upstairs landing. DuBose hurried in front of them and set up her chair. Josh set her down in it, and she wheeled down the narrow hall to an old, warped wood door.

  She knocked.

  “One sec …” It was Keyes’s voice. A moment later the door creaked open. Keyes stood in the doorway, his short, muscular frame blocking her view of the room.

  “She’s pretty scared, Director. She heard the gunfire and explosions when we came in. I don’t know how long she’s been here, but there’s a bunch of food wrappers and empty water bottles in the trash.”

  Rebecca nodded. “I understand, but I need to talk to her.”

  He stood aside, and Rebecca rolled into the small, dark bedroom. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she saw a small, single bed pushed against the far wall. The sheets were white, and a dusty, crocheted pink blanket lay rumpled in the corner.

  Sitting in the center of the bed was a small Chinese girl.

  She looked about six years old. Her knees were drawn up to her chin, and her tiny hands were clasped tight in front of her shins. She peered up at Rebecca with wide, frightened eyes as she rocked back and forth. Her cheeks were bright red, and her eyes glistened with tears. A few plastic toy horses were scattered on the bed in front of her.

  “We were playing horses, Director," Keyes said. "I was telling her my family has some horses just like her toys, back in Pennsylvania.”

  Rebecca smiled at the girl. She stopped rocking, but did not smile back.

  “What’s your name, honey?”

  The girl was silent. Rebecca rolled closer.

  “My name is Rebecca. These men are my friends. Who brought you here?”

  “Huai nanren,” the child said in a soft, quiet voice.

  “Do you speak any English?” Rebecca asked. “Ah, yinghu ma?”

  The little girl nodded. “A little,” she said. “Mama sent me to special school.”

  “You speak so well!” Rebecca said, trying to sound comforting and encouraging. “Where is your mama? Is she here?”

  The girl shook her head. “No. I don’t know where she is.”

  “Is she in China?”

  “I don’t know. The bad men don’t let me see her. Only sometimes.”

  “Sometimes?”

  “Only when she does what they want.”

  “What’s your name, sweetie? Can you tell me your name?”

  She looked at Rebecca for a moment, then nodded. “Lian.”

  Rebecca fished her phone from her purse and held it up. “Lian, I’d like to take your picture, okay?”

  The girl looked worried. “Is Mama in trouble?”

  Rebecca reached out and let her hand glide through the girl’s shoulder-length dark hair. “I don’t know, honey. But I’m going to try to find out, okay? I’m going to make the bad men tell me.”

  Lian bit her lip, thought for a second, then nodded. “Okay. Xie Xie. Thank you, ma’am.”

  Rebecca snapped the picture on her phone. “Call me Rebecca.” She showed the girl the picture. "See? Look how pretty you are." She rested her hand on the girl's shoulder. "Very pretty, and very brave."

  She texted Caine the picture and typed the word “LEVERAGE?” underneath. Then she dropped the phone back in her purse. “Lian, I’m going to go for a little bit, but I’ll be back soon, okay?”

  The girl nodded. “I want to go home. I want to see Mama. Qing!”

  “I know, honey. I’m going to try to help. I promise.”

  She pulled her fiery hair into a pony tail and turned to Josh. Her eyes flashed with anger. “I want to speak to Ted. Now.”

  Ted stared across the table at Rebecca and shifted in his chair. His eyes flickered around the room, darting left and right.

  “Focus, Ted,” Rebecca snapped. “I’m right here. And I’m going to ask you nicely one more time. Who is the girl?”

  “Rebecca, you don’t know what you’re dealing with here.” Ted leaned across the table and lowered his voice. “Trust me, I am on your side, and you’re in over your head!”

  “My side? That’s your angle? You sent your hired thugs to take me out!”

  Ted shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Really? So Wallace Ganda isn’t on your payroll? We're holding him in another room. I have a feeling his story is going to be a little different. You know, once we start throwing around words like ‘treason’ and ‘enemy combatant.’”

  “Enemy combatant?” Ted laughed. “That’s a reach. He’s an American citizen on U.S. soil.”

  “He tried to drug me and stuff me in a van, Ted. I’m the Director of the National Clandestine Service. If I say he’s an enemy combatant, then he is. That’s the way this works.”

  A look of doubt flashed across Ted’s face. He licked his lips and looked down at the table.

  It’s starting to sink in, she thought. He’s screwed, and he knows it.

  “Ted, you are going to go down for this. You have one, and only one, shot at seeing the light of day. Work with me. Who is that little girl upstairs? Who is your asset in China? Who is Red Phoenix?”

  Ted looked away from her.

  “You don’t want to talk to me? Fine. I’ve already alerted the DNI. You’re fucking with the President’s Global Environmental Accords. If China pulls out over what you’ve done, John Blayne will throw you in a hole for the rest of your life.”

  Ted’s head shot up, and he looked her in the eye. “Wait, Blayne? You talked to Blayne?”

  Rebecca leaned forward. “Of course, he’s the President’s intelligence advisor. Why?”

  Ted appeared lost in thought. “Blayne has connections to every intelligence service. He could be talking to anyone. There’s no way to contain things anymore.”

  “Talk to me, Ted. Is Blayne pulling your strings? Is he behind this?”

  Ted refocused on her. His eyes were wide with panic. “No … I mean, I don’t think so. Blayne is in the loop, he knew about Red Phoenix. Not the particulars, but he knew I had an asset in China. But he’s not the one giving me orders. I … I don’t know who it is, but they’re high up. Higher than you and me.”

  “Who is it Ted? Why do they want Sean dead? What information are they so afraid of this hacker releasing?”

  “You have to protect me. We can’t stay here. Whoever it is, they know about this place. They set this all up, do you understand?”

  Rebecca glared at him. “The sooner you talk, the sooner we leave, Ted. What files did this hacker access?”

  “It’s not the files. I mean, they’re bad, but nothing that hasn’t been leaked before. The files were just a smokescreen, to get Blayne on board, for deniability purposes.”

  “So what is this really about?”

  Ted took a deep breath. “TANGENT. It’s about TANGENT.”

  “And what the hell is TANGENT?”

  Ted eyed Josh, then turned his attention back to Rebecca. “TANGENT is an NSA cyber-weapon. Something we developed based on the FBI’s Cyber Crimes Research Unit. The hacker we have in custody, Sun Wai Tong … he did hack sensitive files, but more importantly, he downloaded TANGENT fro
m our servers. We’ve been trying to figure out who he gave it to, but so far he’s been … uncooperative. We can’t release him until we know who has it.”

  “I'll ask again. What the hell is TANGENT? Why is it so important?”

  Ted shook his head. “You really don’t get it, do you? Your whole world? Field ops, HUMINT, ‘Boots on the ground’ … you’re the past. TANGENT is the future. The next battleground isn’t going to be Iraq, or Syria, or China. The weapons of the next war aren't guns or bombs. It’s all going to be ones and zeroes, in cyberspace. TANGENT is a weapon for the digital battlefield."

  Josh rested his hand on the pistol at his hip. “Director, this guy is just running his mouth.”

  “Ted,” Rebecca said, slowing her words, as one would speak to a child. “You’ve got about ten seconds of my patience left. Start making sense.”

  “We have to get out of here, there’s no time—”

  “Then talk faster,” Rebecca snapped.

  “Okay, look … the NSA spent billions of dollars and years of research weakening internet security. BULLRUN, QUANTUM, PRISM … those programs and systems are like our nukes. Using them, we can hack into just about any system on the planet, anywhere, anytime.”

  “Your data is our data,” Rebecca said.

  “Exactly. But every hacker, no matter how skilled, no matter what tools they use, leaves traces behind. Things like favored malware, keyboard language settings, server location. The FBI assembled a database that analyzes these traces. Their goal was to profile and identify specific hackers and groups based on these digital fingerprints. And you can bet our enemies do the same.

  “TANGENT is the next step. We built on that database and improved it. Perfected it. We built a series of algorithms that can plant those traces after we hack a network. We can decide who the enemy will profile for the hack, with a ninety-five-percent success rate.”

  Josh shrugged. “Hey, I know I’m just a jarhead, but you lost me.”