by Wesley Chu
You can start your new job on the Food Network another time. We have work to do.
Roen reluctantly agreed. Faust and Wuehler sat across from him at the wobbly table. Faust had discovered this gem of culinary mastery with Roen, and the two single-handedly kept the place in business. At first, Wuehler objected to planning in a public place. Then he tasted their pork buns. Now, he held all their meetings here. Today, they had the restaurant to themselves except for an elderly woman sitting in the corner drying bamboo leaves on a small line hanging from the wall. Roen suspected she lived in the back, seeing how she was there every time they came.
“Taipei’s a dead end,” Faust was saying. “Almost a month; not a trace. Not one hit at the other safe houses and nothing from the locals.” It was shocking that Dylan had somehow not registered a blip here. Roen was now entertaining the possibility that his friend had died. “You’d think he’d meet up with one of our established contacts,” Roen mused.
“Except one’s dead, one is senile, and the last one is a double agent,” Wuehler remarked. “I wouldn’t risk those odds either if I were him.”
“Wait, we’ve got a double agent on the payroll? Why are we putting up with this? Hell, let’s go take him out.” Roen complained with his mouth full. “After dinner, that is.”
“Because the others are dead and senile,” Wuehler repeated.
We have too few eyes on here as it is. Better to receive information we don’t trust than to receive nothing at all.
Roen shook his head. “I make minimum wage, and we’re paying double agents? We need to vote in fresh blood in Command.”
Faust raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know we were a democracy. In that case, I’d like to be Secretary of Transportation. My campaign motto will be ‘No more flying coach.’”
Roen gave him a thumbs up. “Got my vote there.”
Wuehler threw up his hands. “Do we have any leads at all?” His frustrations would have seemed more impactful if he didn’t have a pair of chopsticks in one hand and a steamed bun in the other. “What about the escape pod debris? Anything worth sifting through? They did find one intact.”
Faust shook his head. “Quarantined by the police. The closest Ashish got to it was two hundred meters when they dragged it to shore to repaint.”
“Why would they do that?” Wuehler frowned.
Faust grinned. “I believe that escape pod has been officially drafted into the Taiwanese navy.”
“Maybe if we redirect our focus away from Taipei...” Wuehler said.
Roen, blond-haired man in dark sunglasses just passed by three times in the past two minutes. Confirmed visual on you every time.
An image of a young familiar-looking guy wearing a brown leather jacket popped into his head. Flanking him were two others in similar attire. Roen had seen his share of operatives to detect the forced casualness in their demeanor. These were apex predators about to spring in for the kill. He slowly put up a hand and cut off Wuehler mid-sentence.
“Go hot,” he mouthed. “Out the rear.”
Faust and Wuehler, with their backs to the entrance, followed the order without question. They slipped their hands in their coats and clicked their safeties off.
Wuehler nudged Faust with his elbow. “Get on the comm. I’ll go first.”
Faust nodded as Wuehler lazily stood up, stretched, and strolled toward the back exit.
“You next,” Roen said.
Faust shook his head. “Not leaving a host to cover our rear. Get going.”
“I got the visual. You go. That’s an order.”
Faust hesitated before standing up. Roen heard an “I outrank you” as he walked past. Just as Faust left his line of sight, he heard four sharp pops in the air behind him.
Different barrel signatures. Not a one-sided exchange.
Immediately, Faust sprinted toward the back. Roen overturned the table and ducked behind it. The blond kid and two men suddenly appeared, spraying bullets through the entire restaurant.
Full automatics. You are outgunned.
“You mean my peashooter doesn’t do thirty rounds in four seconds?” Roen peeked over the edge of the table and returned fire. He grabbed one of the table legs and pulled it with him as he retreated. Behind him, he heard the two-tone popping exchange again, soon joined by a third. Faust must be getting in on the fun. In front, Blondie’s two friends were at the sides of the entrance laying suppression fire while he stood behind them with his arms crossed over his chest. There was something serial killer eerie about the kid.
Stay near the side flank. Civilian on your right.
The old lady screamed and she tried to crawl toward the kitchen on all fours. The Genjix were spraying fire indiscriminately through the entire restaurant. The stupid woman was actually moving toward the crossfire! Roen peeked over the side again and was rewarded with an exploding splinter that nearly took his eye out.
Leave her. You will only draw fire to her.
Roen cursed. Tao was right. He began to drag himself toward the exit when he caught sight of the old woman pleading for help. Roen swore again. There’d be no way the big guy in the sky was going to let this one slide if he left grandma out here like this. He took a deep breath and unloaded his clip at the one of the guys in the entrance. Once they retreated behind cover, he leaned out, grabbed her by the collar, and yanked her behind the table like a rag doll. A fresh hail of wood splinters exploded around them. A jagged seam appeared down the middle of the table. This thing wasn’t going to hold out much longer.
After all these years, you still listen like crap.
Roen motioned for her to stay low. The table was quickly being whittled down into firewood. He had to draw their fire. Roen waited for a good time to jump toward the door but the gunfire didn’t let up. Then, a voice called out to him.
“Roen Tan, Come out!”
Roen perked up. He peeked over the jagged edge and saw Blondie stride into the restaurant without a care in the world.
“This kid must be mentally challenged.”
Or overly confident. Reminds me a bit of you.
“He must be really good then.”
Or just stupid. Like I said, reminds me of you.
“Roen Tan,” Blondie repeated. “I have waited a long time to finally meet you.”
“How did you find me?” Roen shouted. “Let me guess; you love the dumplings here too.”
Blondie smirked. “You’re not as good as you think you are. My men followed you after the meeting with the Bamboo Union.”
The one following Hutch must have been a lure!
Now, Roen took pride in tailing targets. He was very good at sneaking around, staying hidden, and following someone without being noticed. That skill, however, was far different from detecting targets. In that respect, Roen was only passable. So the tail he did find on Hutch must have only been a decoy to draw Roen out. He had fallen for their trap and led them right to his doorstep! Roen cursed his own stupidity.
“You are pinned down and my men have both exits covered,” the kid continued. “I am offering you a chance to live.”
Roen forced a laugh. “You think I’m going to surrender? Get a grip, junior.”
“Oh, I don’t expect you to surrender. I expect you to take my offer for a fair fight. No weapons. Hand to hand. To the death. If you win, my men let you go. If you die, well, you were going to die anyway.”
I do not like it.
The offer sounded too good to be true. Who did this kid think he was? Miyamoto Musashi? He didn’t even look old enough to shave yet. Roen could admit he wasn’t the best fighter in the world. In his book, Lin held that title, but he’d like to think he’d take the bronze.
About that overconfidence thing…
Roen slowly stood up, hiding his pistol behind the shattered remnants of the table. “Why are you offering me this?” he asked. “Selling life insurance too?”
The kid’s mouth curled into a sneer. “My name is Jacob Diamont.”
R
oen shrugged. “And that means what?”
He was rewarded with pure rage on young Jacob’s face. That alone was worth the price of admission. Looking at the boy more closely, Roen noticed something familiar about him. Sean Diamont’s face had haunted Roen for years, that fatal night playing over and over in his nightmares. Most of Jacob didn’t resemble Sean, except those eyebrows. Those were definitely Sean’s eyebrows. But where Roen saw most of Sean in this Jacob kid was that smirk. And the nose maybe. The nose and those eyebrows and that smirk.
Interesting.
“Think I can take him?”
He is half your age.
“That’s what I’m worried about. At least I have a weight advantage.”
“So,” Roen said. “I put down my gun, and you put down yours, and then we try to kill each other like civilized men?”
Jacob raised the pistol in his hand, and then let it go. Time slowed as Roen’s eyes trailed the falling pistol. Another old memory he had long buried crawled back up his consciousness. Sean once offered a similar deal and had dropped his gun. Except when Roen had put down his gun, Sean murdered Abdul and Sonya. The pistol clattered as it bounced off the concrete floor. Roen gave that smirking Jacob one look and wanted nothing more again than to wipe it off his face. He raised his pistol and fired.
Roen had to admit; young Jacob was good. In the split second that Roen pulled the trigger, he closed the distance between them, blocked the trigger pull with his finger, and kneed Roen in the abdomen, followed by a left cross to the chin. In other words, he kicked Roen’s ass and did it really fast.
Highly skilled shotokan movements. Fast. Leads with left.
“You mean that punch to my face was his weak hand?”
Afraid so.
“Crap. I am in so much trouble.”
That would be the logical conclusion.
The kid was nearly as fast as Lin, though Roen could tell his speed was more a function of youth and talent than technique. Not that it made a difference to the end result. Roen ate two more punches to the face, and a kick to the ribs knocked the wind out of him. He collapsed on the ground.
“You beat grandfather?” Jacob snarled. “I don’t believe it.”
“He didn’t believe it either when I killed him,” Roen shot back.
That earned him another whack to the face. However, this time, Roen was ready for it. Like many younger fighters, Jacob was easy to goad and liked to headhunt. Roen caught the punch, wrapped both legs around Jacob’s torso, and scissored him. Jacob crashed to the ground, giving Roen the chance to give a little payback with his own elbow to the face.
Now get out!
Probably a smart decision with Jacob’s men nearby. Roen scrambled to his feet, grabbed his pistol, and darted out the back. Another eruption of gunfire zinged past his head and he felt the heat of a bullet cut through his hair.
Take your own advice and stay low. Your brain is not much, but I cannot accomplish anything without it.
“I can’t believe how fast he was.”
Better hope you do not meet again.
“I am never that lucky.”
Roen sprinted through the kitchen, past the terrified cooks, and out the exit where Faust and Wuehler were pinned down behind a dumpster in a narrow alleyway.
“What took you so long?” Wuehler yelled.
“We have bogies coming out here shortly,” Roen said, reloading his pistol.
Faust nodded and motioned for them to retreat. “You hosts get out of here. I’ll cover.”
“Like hell,” Roen growled, taking his turn on the firing line just as Faust ducked down to reload. A symphony of sirens began ringing in the distance.
Assume local authorities are on their side.
“Why can’t we ever assume they’re on ours?”
Because they rarely are.
“Where does the back of this alley lead to?”
Splits fifty meters back. Take the left until it curves and then another left.
Roen grabbed Faust by the collar and forcibly pulled him back as they retreated. He signaled to Wuehler to go left at the end of the alley as they sidestepped the clutter, hurdling debris and carts as if they were on an obstacle course. Taking up the rear, Roen toppled refuse and pushed dumpsters to block the path. For a second, he thought they might have escaped and thrown off their pursuers.
“Did you get word to the team?” Wuehler asked.
“Hutch’s stowing the gear now. Ray’s mobilizing the rest for an intercept.”
It is too dangerous. Send them to the second safe house.
“Too hot,” Roen yelled. “Eight more guys aren’t going to make a dent here. Send them to the second site. We’ll meet up with them.”
“We have two hosts here!” Faust snapped. “You two are the priority.”
“It’s a direct order from Tao,” Roen replied.
“Ramez concurs,” Wuehler added.
Faust gave them a disgusted look before getting back on the comm.
They reached the end of the alley, which opened to a busy street. The sound of the sirens was getting louder. With the docks to the north and their pursuers to the south, they had little choice.
“Push away from the team,” Wuehler was saying. “Second site is to the east. We’ll circle around; give the guys a chance to sneak out with the gear.”
Roen nodded. Wuehler might be a dick, but he always thought of his men. They scampered across the intersection and entered an even tighter alley, forcing them to move single file. Twenty meters in, Roen heard a shout. He turned and opened fire, taking out two uniformed police officers. He hoped they were actually corrupt and not innocent men just doing their jobs.
Unfortunately, with the Genjix having much deeper pockets, more often than not, they had already bought the local government. The Prophus just couldn’t afford to buy influence anymore. The United States and Great Britain were the only two countries they still had significant pull in, and even there they were losing ground. Before long, they would become an entirely underground group.
“Up top!” Faust said, pointing to a ladder attached to the side of a three-story building. The ladder was barred by a small gate locked by a rusty padlock. Roen shot the lock and gestured for Faust to get a move on. Faust shook his head. “Hosts first.”
“You’re a goddamn broken record!” Roen pushed him to the ladder. “Just get up there and cover us!”
Wuehler and Roen stayed at the base of the ladder as Faust reached the top in a matter of seconds just as Genjix agents appeared. He began to lay down suppressing fire.
“Age before beauty,” Roen said to Wuehler, pointing up.
“Yeah so what are you waiting for? Get going then!” Wuehler shoved him to the ladder. “That’s an order.”
“What is up with everyone not wanting to go?” Roen snapped and began to climb. All around him sparks exploded as bullets banged against the metal grate covering of the ladder.
He was about a third way up when Wuehler called out from below. “You’re right, Roen.”
Roen looked down. “What?”
“Beauty does go last” Wuehler smirked and emptied another clip. At the far end, a Genjix agent went down. He holstered his pistol and climbed after them.
And who says he does not have a sense of humor.
“Strange time to show it.”
Roen reached the top and took position opposite of Faust. “I’m down to two clips,” he yelled.
“Last one,” Faust replied. “There’s rocks up here we can throw down.”
Wuehler was halfway up the ladder. Roen had eyes on five enemies, though there were bound to be more incoming. It was a good thing the alley was so narrow or they would have been easily overwhelmed. Wuehler was about two thirds up the ladder when he suddenly flinched. He wavered and then plummeting back down to the ground.
“No!” Faust jumped back on the ladder.
“Don’t do it.” Roen grabbed Faust by the shoulder and neck and pulled him back onto the roof.
Faust struggled in his arms. “We can’t leave him!”
“There’ll be twenty guys down there in fifteen seconds. This building will be surrounded in two minutes. If we’re not out of here now, it’s over. Let’s move!” Faust’s face twisted with frustration before he finally nodded.
Continue west deeper into the slum two roofs over and into the building. It is residential with many empty units. Hide until aerial surveillance is gone.
“I think staying is a mistake. We should continue west and get as far away as possible.”
I study for every contingency while you sleep. How do you think you have stayed alive for so long?
“Fine. Thank God one of us does.”
Ten minutes later, Roen and Faust watched from a fifth story window of a half abandoned apartment building as dozens of uniformed police officers milled around the streets. He counted twelve Genjix. The young psychopath was obviously the one in charge of the entire operation. He was furious they had escaped, shouting orders at both his men and the police sergeant in charge. One interesting thing he noted was that the boy didn’t speak Mandarin or Taiwanese but American English, with a faint New England accent by the sound of it. The kid was a ringer from the States.
They stayed hidden and surveyed the activity. The Genjix had turned the street into their base of operations. Roen recognized two hosts among the Genjix while Faust identified three of their commandos. It was another shock unit, one that he had dealt with in the past.
Roen and Faust tensed when two police officers dragged a hooded figure toward a van. The hooded figure, arms handcuffed behind his back, walked with a bad limp. As he got near the van, half a dozen of the Genjix closed in around him.
Faust immediately got on the comm, recalling men to the area. Roen had only to glance out of the window to know that Faust’s plan was a terrible idea. Improvising a rescue operation against these odds was suicidal. They had better odds stealing from a Vegas casino. The local police being involved just made this entire island a death trap. The only thing that would come out of the rescue attempt was ten more body bags.
