The Noah Reid Action Thriller Series: Books 1-3 (plus special bonuses)

by Wesley Robert Lowe

  Pau nodded, and the two opened their specially designed cases. Each one contained an unassembled crossbow. Handcrafted with contemporary precision, elements of their ancient Chinese roots were visible—each end of the bow was finished with a carved dragon’s head. These were not the bulkier repeating crossbows, but a smaller, lighter version. These slighter weapons were just as deadly as their larger cousins but were easier to transport. The drawback was they required expert marksmanship because one attempt was all you got.

  They crouched and began assembling the weapons of destruction.

  Garret, Abby and Olivia were into their third round of drinks—Garret with his preferred neat Glenlivet twenty-one-year-old single malt scotch, and Abby and Olivia with their mojitos made with Trinidad’s Angostura Old Oak white rum and mint leaves fresh from the Royal Tiger Restaurant’s private garden.

  “So when are you planning to get married? Olivia refuses to allow me into her private life, so I have to ask you instead,” chuckled Garret.

  “Actually, I am thinking of going gay. Why do you think Olivia and I hang out so much together?” giggled Abby.

  Olivia leaned over and kissed her. “You mean you’ve been holding out on me, girlfriend?”

  As the girls erupted into a fit of laughter that Garret didn’t find particularly amusing, Tommy entered. All rose to greet him.

  “Who am I, the Chinese premier?” joked the corpulent gambler. “I’m just a big mouth with a bigger stomach. Sit. Sit. Sit.”

  As they took their places, Olivia said, “Mr. Sung...”

  “Wait. Who is Mr. Sung? What happened to Uncle Tommy?”

  Olivia began again. “According to my father, this is a business dinner, which means you are now Mr. Sung.”

  Tommy rolled his eyes.

  “Mr. Sung, I’m privileged to be working on your file...”

  Abby couldn’t take it anymore. “Dad knows you too well for that BS.”

  “And what happened to Irish-American-Asian fusion?” asked Tommy. He sang, “Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling...” He then pretended to tickle the ivories as he beamed at Olivia. “You’re too talented to be a lawyer.”

  “Stop it, Tommy.” Garret knocked his knuckles on the table to get attention. “Don’t give her any ideas. I’ve spent a lifetime trying to persuade her to follow me.”

  “No wonder you have a rebellious child, Garret. I can’t stand looking at those wretched documents myself.” He snorted. “Anyway, that’s why I have you, Garret. Speaking of which, where is the young man you mentioned? Noah Reid, wasn’t it?”

  “Mr. Reid took ill.” Garret’s voice had an edge to it.

  “Aha! He copped out on you,” Tommy hooted. “Don’t blame him. About the only thing more boring than Golden Asia is you. Unfortunately, I have no choice but to put up with you both.” He turned to Olivia. “East Coast USA has turned you into a lady.”

  Garret smiled, unamused. “Watch it, Tommy. She’s not into older men.”

  Tommy laughed. “You mean, Garret, you’re not into her with older men.”

  Wing entered with a bottle of Dom Perignon. He poured the champagne into glasses and handed them around the table.

  “Your father may have convinced you to study law, Olivia, but the truth is, law is boring. Why don’t I offer you a job being Abby’s accompanist? I can get you gigs in every lounge in Asia. Then you can be with your lover all the time.”

  “Tommy!” muttered the increasingly irritated Garret.

  Olivia loved Tommy. He was always fun, never took anything too seriously—the complete opposite of her father. “No, Mr. Sung. I think Golden Asia is fascinating. I’ve been studying it all day. The corporate structure is convoluted, unconventional and it would take the average forensic auditor half a lifetime to figure out who owns what and what goes where.”

  “But you’re not the average forensic lawyer, are you, Ms. Einstein?” giggled the tipsy Abby.

  Tommy pretended to fall asleep, snoring loudly. Then he perked back up. “It’s amazing that you’re still awake then. I’m falling asleep just thinking about it.”

  He got up, and there was a pixie glint in his eyes. “You should stick to playing piano.”

  Abby piped in. “I agree.” She put her arms around Olivia and teased Garret. “We could make beautiful music together.”

  “I think we better change topics before Garret blows up,” laughed Tommy. “Tell me more about the missing Noah.”

  “There’s nothing to say or, if I do talk about him, I will have a myocardial infarction,” growled Garret.

  “I like him already,” teased Tommy.

  Chapter 19

  If you had no money in America, you played basketball. If you had money in America, you played basketball. Same deal in Asia. No matter how rich, poor, athletic or unathletic you were, everyone loved this game invented by Canadian James Naismith for the YMCA in 1891.

  When his lifelong best bud, Internet cafe operator-cum-street kid worker Chad heard that his bro Noah was coming back to town, he reached out to him and asked him to help.

  Noah gave him a one word answer. “Duh?” It was a no-brainer.

  Arriving at the schoolyard for the night’s game, the first thing Noah did was give Chad a brand-new leather basketball with the autograph of Chad’s idol, Magic Johnson, on it. Although Chad was too young to have seen Magic play, the basketball player was a legend, not only for his skill on the court, but for his ability to face HIV with his trademark smile and love of life.

  “Game on!”

  After the tip off, Noah grabbed the ball out of the hands of the opposing center. He streaked down the court past the teenage drug dealers, car thieves, and garden-variety street punks. Noah deked around Chad and went in for an easy lay-up.

  “Yes!” shouted Noah, pumping his fist.

  “Ball hog! No worries; we’ll get it back big time,” called out the man-bunned Chad.

  Chad fired the ball to fourteen-year-old Sam Xi. Sam charged up court, bowling over Lexus, one of the kids on Noah’s team. Lexus knocked the ball out of Sam’s hand but was the last to touch it. Chad motioned the ball to other players but finally inbounded it to Sam, who dribbled down the court.

  Noah jumped in front of Sam. Sam changed direction but paid no attention and knocked Lexus down again.

  Noah screamed, “Foul!” but Chad yelled out, “Shut up, Wuss!” and “Atta boy, Sam!”

  Sam threw up a floater, banked it in for two, then turned to taunt Lexus. “Life’s a bitch, eh? Take that and shove it up your ass.”

  Chad groaned because he knew what was going to happen next. The jab incited Lexus and the rest of Noah’s team into a jumbo of a rumble. And it was no playground pussy fight, either.

  Noah saw Lexus whip out a switchblade and charge at Sam. He took two steps to the side, kicked out his leg to Lexus’ hand, sending the teen’s knife into the air. Noah snatched it before Lexus could and pushed the punk to the ground. “No!” he yelled.

  Sam yanked a chain out of his jeans, swinging it like a medieval sword fighter and came at Noah. “Try me, white boy.”

  “Not here you don’t,” ordered Chad.

  “Out of my way, Chad,” shouted Sam.

  “I got it, Chad.” Noah chucked the basketball hard at Sam’s abdomen. It didn’t get through because the chain got in the way. However, the chain immobilized the teen. Noah jerked Sam backward by his hair. His ego injured more than his body, Sam started yelling, “Child abuse! Child abuse!”

  “Shut up, or I’ll show you what real abuse is,” Noah said calmly

  But even without weapons, the kids wanted to go at it, and it turned into a dog pile of kicking, thumping and slugging.

  “Oh, shit,” said Noah. He didn’t really want to, but he had no choice. The reluctant combatant grabbed one kid from the pile by the neck, screaming, legs dangling. Noah threw the kid six feet skyward. Six inches before he crashed to the ground, Noah scooped him up and chucked him to the side.

&nb
sp; Another kid ran at Noah with a knife, slashing viciously. Now totally on his game, Noah swiveled with a masterful aerial leg strike that knocked the boy several feet back before he smashed into the ground. The knife flew, spinning directly to Chad, who ducked out of the blade’s way.

  Another group of kids swarmed to attack. Noah shrieked like a bulldog bat from hell as he charged at them. A triple spin kick put one punk out of commission, a flying sidekick leveled another and one swift chop to the chest put another down. A series of straight blast blows knocked three kids in a row down, and Bruce Lee’s trademark mighty backfists—bang, bang, bang—brought down those trying to attack him from behind.

  Noah jumped back into the martial arts stance and barked at the group. “Anyone else want to rock?”

  The boys jumped up and crowded around him. “You’re so cool,” “Teach me,” “C’mon, Noah,” “You’re the man,” “I wanna learn...”

  Noah suddenly swung both his arms out, knocking everyone away. He spoke with a voice of authority. “You want to learn?”

  “Yes!” they all cried out.

  “Then you do it my way. No ifs, ands or buts. Got it?”

  “Yes!” agreed all.

  Noah kicked out and adopted a martial arts stance. “Then let’s do it.”

  All the kids and Chad jumped into position. Noah led them in an exercise sequence. “Left, right, kick... Right, left, kick...”

  Soon, it wasn’t just the basketball kids but everyone in the neighborhood who saw how Noah dispatched the gang who wanted to learn. Young and old, grandfathers, grandmothers, fitness freaks, slobs, suits, singles, marrieds...

  They all shouted with Noah, “Left, right, kick, punch... Right, left, kick, punch... punch, punch, right, left...”

  Chapter 20

  Olivia had not spent that much time in Hong Kong since the death of her mother, a couple of weeks a year at most. Most of the time, Garret went to wherever she was.

  It was the reason she was not completely familiar with Chinese customs and living styles, despite being born in Asia. This accounted for her surprise when Wing brought a large solid-gold container with the Chinese character for Tiger emblazoned on it.

  Her eyes gleamed when Wing lifted the lid, revealing a mélange of shark’s fin, sea cucumber, abalone, dried scallops and twenty other ingredients in a clear soup. “That looks and smells fantastic. What is it?”

  Tommy’s lips smacked in delight. “Monk Jumping over the Wall. My favorite.”

  With one hand behind his back, Wing ladled the soup into solid gold bowls. He stepped back and stood at attention. “Enjoy.”

  Olivia’s eyes lit up as she took a sip. “Unbelievable. I’d forgotten how food is supposed to taste. This sure beats burgers, pasta, pastrami sandwiches, or anything else I ate on the East Coast.”

  “What did you expect? This is Asia. You think we’re going to send anything good over to America? We keep the best for ourselves!” bellowed Tommy. “And we bring the best of North America over here. We get better Maine lobster here than they do in Maine, and better Alaskan king crab than you get in Alaska.”

  “That’s just the start,” Wing explained as he refilled everyone’s bowls. “Not only do we have the best ingredients, we have the best chefs in the world. Your chef tonight was recruited from a seven-star Michelin restaurant, and yours is the only meal he is preparing. He had a small army working all afternoon.” He placed the bowls in front of each diner.

  “Why is it called Monk Jumping over the Wall?” queried Olivia.

  Tommy gave a knowing wink at Garret’s daughter. “Legend has it that the amazing aroma of this soup wafted over a temple wall into the courtyard where Buddhist monks were meditating. The smell bewitched the monks, rousing them from meditation.”

  Tommy sniffed the air, then made a face of delight. “Try as they might, they could not put the thought of tasting it out of their minds. They prayed and chanted for hours, hoping to cleanse themselves from the evils of eating the flesh of a creature. However, the smell grew ever more appetizing as the soup simmered. Finally, the monks could take it no more.”

  Tommy arose and whipped off his jacket. “Ripping off their robes, they renounced their vows of vegetarianism and jumped over the ten-foot wall just to wet their tongues with a taste of the liquid ambrosia. It was food of the gods come to earth, corrupting the purest of the pure.”

  Garret laughed heartily. “The story gets better every time, Tommy. Last time it was a single monk. This time, you’ve got the whole damned monastery doing the jumping.”

  “Come on, Garret. I got most of it right,” chuckled Tommy

  “And the damned French don’t know how to count higher than five. There’s no such thing as a seven-star Michelin restaurant.”

  Before Tommy could respond, Chin calmly entered the room. “If there were such an honor as a seven-star Michelin restaurant, my chef would certainly be its chef.”

  Chapter 21

  Duke and Pau methodically assembled their crossbows. They screwed the prods together, then attached heavy-duty string to their bows’ opposing ends. Each tested for tautness and resilience, gently tugging on the string and then snapping it. Confirming that the bows met their satisfaction, they moved on. With precision, they attached the arbalest side plates, blocks, wedges and stirrups. They re-tested the crossbows, ensuring that they had correctly created two sinister killing machines.

  They gave each other the thumbs-up. Duke unlocked the door.

  The dark silence changed to the cacophony and bright lights of a busy restaurant. A Chinese floor screen hid the two men but also blocked their view so they could not see the sources of the noise. Neither could anyone see them.

  Duke took a quick peek around the screen to see the source of the mayhem—the Tiger entertainment show was in full swing. Patrons, some a little drunker, many a whole lot poorer, were paying more attention to the sensational spectacle and noisily showing their enthusiasm.

  The marksmen looked further down and saw Chin in a private room about two hundred feet away.

  “Get ready,” ordered Duke.

  “Sit down, Tommy. There is no need for ceremony,” said Chin, not even a hint of emotion in his voice.

  Tommy sat as Wing whisked over a new chair for Chin.

  Olivia and Abby weren’t quite sure what hold Chin had on their fathers, but there was definitely something not right, despite Chin’s calm demeanor.

  “Tommy, Garret, Abby...” Chin glanced at Olivia. “And you are...”

  “Chin Chee Fok, meet my daughter, Olivia,” introduced Garret.

  “Ah, my new lawyer. Pleased to meet you, Ms. Southam.”

  Olivia nodded, the feminist in her irritated that this pompous bastard considered her his property. “Hello, Mr. Chin.”

  “Just Chin is fine,” said the Tiger Master as he took Olivia’s hand and kissed it. “You’re always hiding something from me, Garret,” he said in a condescending, reprimanding voice. Eyeing Olivia as he would a piece of meat, he continued, “And it’s perfectly understandable.”

  Olivia was puzzled. Why wasn’t Dad picking up this arrogant SOB and throwing him against the wall? “Are you connected with Golden Asia, too?”

  “You didn’t tell her, Garret?” Chin’s steely eyes matched his voice as he proudly confirmed, “I am Golden Asia.”

  Olivia looked at her father, perplexed.

  “Mr. Chin is a silent partner who rarely makes an appearance. Mr. Sung is our everyday contact.”

  “I am not a partner. As I said earlier, I am Golden Asia,” corrected Chin definitively.

  The room turned icy as Garret quietly addressed Chin. “You have audited statements, including the ones the accountants prepared today. Any problems that exist are a result of you failing to deliver from your end.”

  Tommy shook his head helplessly as Wing ladled out a bowl of soup for the Tiger Master. “Chin, there are problems everywhere, driving us crazy. The unions are bandits. The cost of materials from Ita
ly, China and India is skyrocketing. There’s a lack of workers that know how to push a wheelbarrow, let alone build a fortress, bureaucrats wanting more ladies, bigger cars and more cash...”

  Chin interrupted. “Cost overruns are normal. I expect that.”

  He put his hands under the table and, with a quick jerk, upset the table, the soup, other dishes and drinks. He exploded. “What I don’t expect is to be cheated by my own people!”

  He snapped his fingers, and Wing escorted in Ron, the accountant. Ron’s hands were tied together, his face was bruised, his nose was broken, and he had two black eyes.

  While Tommy and Garret remained calm at seeing the parasitic weasel, Abby and Olivia were aghast. Omigod! Why doesn’t Dad do something?” Olivia wondered.

  With his jaw broken, Ron slurred apologetically. “I’m sorry, Garret, but Mr. Chin came by in person to ask some questions about the file.”

  Chin snapped his fingers and, just as quickly, Wing dragged Ron out. Chin leapt up, grabbed Tommy by the shirt collar and yanked him up to his eye level. He started tightening Tommy’s shirt, making it difficult for him to breathe. “I made you who you are today, and this is my reward?”

  Slamming Tommy back into his chair, Chin addressed both Tommy and Garret. “I am talking about the real money you’ve lost for me. The money that goes into your personal pockets. The money that goes into whores you’ve lost the ability to perform with. The gambling that is not done in my establishments. I’m talking about the absolute incompetence of management that I have trusted you with.”

  Tommy whimpered, forcing out labored words. “You have it wrong, Chin. We simply cannot convert those sums of cash easily.”

  Garret stood and asserted angrily. “The only reason you own anything is that I pull every string and bribe every two-bit official looking for mortgage payments for his mistresses. Not to mention putting together a corporate structure that makes you cleaner than the pope.”