Boris rushed at JJ but the Shaolin master struck out with his palms, hitting the bruiser in the throat. Choking, Boris dropped to his knees, gasping for breath.
Seeing his flunky incapacitated, Raoul charged, but JJ dove at the Russian’s legs with arms extended and took his feet from under him.
Like a bull, the finesse-less Dmitri charged straight at JJ. JJ’s fist met Dmitri’s jaw. Dmitri’s tongue caught between his upper and lower jaw, and the blow was enough to sever its tip. As blood poured from his mouth, Dmitri ran from the room.
Raoul shook off his pain and attacked JJ with hands and feet. Right arm. Left leg. Double arm. Open hands. Closed fists. JJ parried, evaded or deflected every blow, countering with his own assault.
In a fair fight, a street fighter is no match for the agility and skill of a martial arts master. However, the Russians did not build their feared reputation by fighting fair. They had nothing like the Shaolin code of honor in battle nor the underlying Catholic morality of the Mafia.
No, their only guiding principle was to win at all costs and, if they couldn’t win in a street fight, it was time to bring out the artillery.
Raoul whipped out his gun and fired rapidly.
JJ picked up the injured first thug and used him as a shield. Raoul’s first bullets penetrated his colleague.
Raoul then fired at JJ’s legs, but JJ threw his human shield to the ground and his body absorbed the full slug attack.
Raoul now had a clear shot at JJ and fired his last two bullets.
As the bullets sped toward him, JJ stood firm and plucked them out of the air. The hand-eye coordination required to do this was found only at the highest level of Shaolin mastery, something Raoul had never witnessed.
JJ charged at the Russian. He kicked Raoul’s hand, sending the gun flying. As the Russian buckled in pain, JJ delivered an uppercut with such force that it lifted Raoul off the ground.
Two powerful hammer punches to his head, one to his right eye, the other to his jaw, knocked Raoul unconscious.
Boris had sufficiently recovered to pull out his gun. He was about to fire at JJ when one of the young girls jumped on him and stabbed a used syringe into the back of his hand.
The girl’s action gave JJ a moment to recover and he delivered a knock-out blow to the hostile’s head.
The girls swarmed their insensate captors and beat them but they were so weakened from malnourishment that their blows had little effect. Undaunted in their desire for retribution, they rifled through the men’s wallets.
Jackpot. Five thousand bucks in cash. Tanya, the oldest of the girls, fearfully handed it to JJ. “You save us?”
JJ nodded. “I save you. Who can I call to help you? Family? Friends?”
Sudden fear covered the girls’ faces. “No one! We don’t want anyone to know.”
Right. JJ realized that even if they knew someone in New York… or anywhere, none of the girls would want them to know they had been prostitutes. They would also be afraid of the authorities. They had left desperate situations wherever they were from and preferred hell in America to the one back home.
“Let’s go.”
JJ led them out of the room and through the unguarded pigsty of a home. Exiting the house, he noted the building they escaped from was an older nondescript two-family home on a mixed residential commercial block. Signs were in a language he couldn’t read.
The crisp weather was hardly suitable for bare feet or skimpy clothing so JJ beckoned the shivering girls to follow him toward a restaurant down the street. “What language is this?”
“Russian. We are in Little Odessa,” chattered one girl. Seeing JJ’s noncomprehending expression, she added, “It’s the Russian part of New York, in Brooklyn.”
“I will make a call and get my friend, Noah, to help.” JJ reached into his pocket to pull out his phone, only to discover it missing. It must have fallen out during the skirmish.
A hundred feet more and they arrived at Luba’s restaurant. JJ noted a bright multi-colored food truck advertising ‘Pietr’s Piroshkis’ parked in front.
As he and the girls entered the greasy spoon, Luba, the rotund waitress/owner screamed, “No! No! Get out!”
“Please, we need help!” cried one of the girls.
“I no can help. They kill me. I know who you are!” wailed Luba.
JJ karate-chopped the wooden table in front of him, picked up one of its wooden legs and put its pointed tip at her throat. “If you don’t help us, I will kill all of you.” He glared at the other patrons in the restaurant. “There is a food truck out front. Pietr’s Piroshkis. I want the owner to drive us to New York. If you do not step forward in one second, she dies.”
As JJ shoved the table leg’s point in toward her larynx, Luba shouted at a dour heavyset man, “Drive them, Pietr!”
Pietr nodded. Much as he would have liked JJ to ram the stick through the throat of his constantly nagging wife, he feared he would be the mad Chinaman’s next victim if he didn’t comply.
Chapter 26
Olivia burst into tears as she and Noah rode the cab to her studio. “Is it me or is it you? Every time we’re together, something bad happens. My father was killed, Abby’s father was killed… and now, you and I were just about added to the list.”
“There’s no connection between what happened in Hong Kong and here, Olivia.”
“How do you know? I was fine, Abby was fine, until you showed up.”
“You want me to leave? I can book the next plane out.”
“Of course not. We need you to help us finalize the deal with Byron this afternoon.”
Noah bit his tongue to prevent him from lashing out. “At least I have some use.”
The cab pulled over to the front of Olivia’s apartment.
“Shall I come up?” asked Noah as he paid for the fare.
“We can just meet at Skyscape at 5:30,” replied Olivia.
“Let me pick you up and we can go together. I won’t bite.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“He likes you still,” said Abby. “No, he loves you still.”
“Noah would have done that for anyone. Remember, he’s a missionary’s kid. Saving the world is in Noah’s DNA,” replied Olivia.
“And that’s a bad thing?”
Olivia shut down her tears for the second time in fifteen minutes. “We are so different.”
“Different is good. Remember, ‘opposites attract.’”
“How about we talk about you instead? Who’s on your radar?”
“Not who, what. My clock’s ticking,” said Abby.
“You’re killing me. You’re not even thirty. You’ve got at least a dozen years, maybe twenty-five. But, if you want to be a baby maker, you’re missing a vital ingredient. Got anyone in mind?”
When Abby stayed silent, Olivia’s imagination kicked in.
“No, you’re not thinking of Tim, are you?”
“No. Besides he’s married and has three kids.”
“He’s divorced.”
“Even if he is, I am not ready for instant motherhood.”
Olivia scrunched her nose. “Are you drilling me about Noah because you’re interested in him?”
Abby carped, “Are you out of your mind? No way. Even if I had the slightest interest, which I don’t, I would never go after the ex of my best friend. Besides, I hate martial artists.”
“How about Kenny? He manages a studio, he’s got connections in the biz, and he is most definitely hot.”
“Remember my ‘no Asian guys’ rule, girlfriend?”
“Well, that pretty well cleans out the list of everybody I know that you know, at least in recent memory.”
“Not everyone.”
Olivia’s eyes widened. “You said no Asian guys. You just said no martial artists.”
“I haven’t broken the rule yet.”
“But you might?”
Abby smiled coyly. “You know what they say about rules.”
�
�But he’s a Shaolin monk.”
“Ex-monk.”
Where the heck is JJ? Noah kept calling and texting as he strode back to The Seventh. He was concerned for his friend. JJ’s world had turned upside down since he met him and Noah knew it was important to help him transition. Because of his heritage, changes were easier for JJ in China, but New York was a brand new ball game. Since arriving in the Big Apple, JJ’s behavior had become less predictable, but it was completely out of character for him not to be in communication for more than four hours.
There was something else bugging Noah, too. It seemed almost too easy for him and Olivia to escape the Russians. He had always believed they were among the most ruthless and fierce thugs in the world, far surpassing the Yakuza, Triads or Mafia. The two he battled to rescue Olivia looked like seasoned warriors but maybe Noah judged wrong... or maybe they were instructed to let Noah and Olivia get away.
That made no sense either, or was he just reading too much into things?
At any rate, if JJ wasn’t going to show up, he was going to Skyscape by himself.
He sent JJ a text. Sorry I missed you today. If you can make it, there’s something happening at Skyscape at 5:30. Likely dinner with the girls afterward. Call.
“So how do I proceed from here?” asked Queenie.
In thought, Chin clicked his tongue rapidly. “This is where things are critical. You have everything in place?”
“As well as can be in a constantly fluid situation.”
“Be prepared to constantly improvise and throw away any plan you might have.”
“Everything’s happening at Skyscape. That’s a controlled situation.”
“You have control of the space but people are fluid, unreliable, and inconsistent. You don’t have the money in place. You don’t really know what Noah thinks. I’ve seen him. He will sacrifice his friends for the sake of doing what he believes is right.”
“I think I can handle him.”
“So did your brothers King and Duke.”
“I’m different.” Queenie had another call coming in. “Excuse me; I have to take this call.” Queenie hit the call waiting button. “Yes, Alexei.”
“The Chinaman escaped.”
Queenie’s face drained of color. People were fluid, unreliable, and inconsistent. “Does he know who captured him or why?”
“Nyet.”
Queenie unleashed a blistering torrent of expletives at the Russian.
And then she hung up.
Chapter 27
When he got back to The Seventh, Noah’s body was knotted with tension. Something was wrong but he couldn’t figure out what it was. An hour of Shiatsu massage did little to alleviate the pressure. He stood at the hotel window staring at nothing in particular when it hit him.
He was drowning. His parents gone, Master Wu gone, Chad gone, and Olivia? She had dismissed him, too.
What was the answer? Staring at the skyscrapers of New York, he had a flash of insight—the towering buildings reminded him of mountains and a passage his father often quoted when he was feeling lost. “I lift my eyes to the mountains. Where shall my help come from? My help is from the Lord, the Maker of Heaven and Earth.”
Thanks, Dad. The brief remembrance of King David’s Psalm 121 was enough to help Noah on the path to renewal. JJ wasn’t his responsibility; he was God’s. If Olivia was not to be, there would be someone else.
That didn’t mean he was going to give up. While she never complained about his clothes, Olivia always dressed with a sense of savoir faire.
He dashed out of the hotel and went back to the designer shop where he had bought his tux. “I want to make girls’ hearts melt,” was his instruction to the clerk. “And fast.”
“You got it, Noah.”
Fifteen minutes later, Noah had on an untucked blue linen shirt perfectly tailored to his body. Gone were his denim jeans in favor of classy but simple dark grey cotton pants. Instead of his worn-in ten-year-old comfy shoes, Italian running sneakers in camo-print nylon with suede trim. A lambskin suede jacket completed the stylish casual transformation.
The expression on Olivia’s face when she stepped into the lobby of her apartment with Abby was worth the ten thousand dollars Noah dropped.
As the two women approached, Noah poured on the charm. “Am I allowed to say how good you look, or would you nail me for male chauvinism?”
“We’ll take a compliment any day,” said Abby. “And you are very handsome, too.”
“Where’s JJ?” asked Olivia, trying hard not to stare at Noah.
“Haven’t seen him all day. He was gone before I woke up and still wasn’t back when I left. My best guess is that he ate a famous New York hot dog and got sick. That’s the trouble with vegetarians. Start barfing at the whiff of dead cow or pig.”
“That’s too bad. He’s a nice guy,” muttered Abby, hiding any hint of disappointment.
“Actually, he’s a huge pain in the ass. I have to put with him because he saved my life,” said Noah.
“Really, or is that another Noah Reid joke?” asked Abby.
“For real. In China, we were attacked by snakes, martial artists, special ops types, and JJ came to the rescue.”
Olivia snickered at Abby’s failing attempts at hiding her growing interest in JJ. “Maybe JJ can join us for dinner.”
“Only if you like rabbit food. Personally, I’m kind of tired of discovering the thousands of ways of eating tofu,” said Noah. His head motioned toward the door. “Come on. Let’s go make some beautiful music together.”
Olivia groaned and turned to Abby as the three stepped to the door. “Now you know why he’s an ex.”
It took Pietr more than three hours to drive the twenty miles from Little Odessa to The Seventh Hotel. JJ made him stop at what the young Russian girls thought was the most fantastic store in the world: Walmart. They screamed gleefully as they picked out new clothes and accessories, toiletries, tried on oversized sunglasses, played music on the audio systems and eschewed the healthy meals in favor of wolfing down burgers, fries and sodas in the store’s McDonalds.
Giggling and talking like teenagers should be talking, it didn’t take them long to adjust to their newfound freedom.
Back at the hotel, several girls at a time crowded into the shower and bathtub while JJ tried to activate his new cell phone. Unsuccessful, he decided to wait until the girls were done and sat at his computer instead.
A frown appeared on his face as he perused the first sites his Google search came up with. He felt his blood pressure rising several points as he continued his exploration.
He pursed his lips and whistled silently. What he saw was totally beyond his capability.
He needed help but not from Noah. Noah was only slightly more computer literate than JJ.
He picked up the hotel’s room phone and made a call.
“Are you crazy, JJ? I want to sleep for another five hours,” said a bleary-eyed Sam, holding his cell phone to his ear while lying in bed.
“Don’t hang up!”
Sam inhaled. “This is so not cool. You and Noah left me stranded and this poor defenseless child had to fend for himself. What if I got eaten by a bear? What...”
“Get online. Now!”
There was something about the tone in JJ’s voice that told Sam something was up. He leapt out of bed and dashed to a computer.
“I’m here. What do you want?”
“Check your email. I want you to tell me who these people are.”
Sam clicked his email inbox and found JJ’s message. He opened two files. One of them was the Facebook photo of the Samaritan at Café du Music. The other was a link to a YouTube video of JJ pounding on the gorilla.
“JJ, you are so the man! What up?”
“The guy at the end of the YouTube video helping the big guy? Is he the same person staring at us in the Facebook photo at the club? If they are, I want you to tell me who he is.”
“Who do you think I am? You’re in New York. Get s
omeone at NYPD to do it.”
“What am I supposed to say? I think this guy saved someone that I beat up?”
“So what makes you think I can do it?”
“Because I’m going to pay you a hundred bucks to do it. Two hundred if you can tell me within half an hour.”
“Consider it done. And get ready to pay me two hundred.”
“That’s what I’m counting on.”
JJ knew Sam was like a lot of other young computer geeks. This was a personal challenge and, if he couldn’t do it himself, he would know someone who could.
JJ was right on the mark. Sam asked his gaming buddy, IAMTHEWALRUS, a favor.
Hey Walrus, you got time?
Depends.
Fifty bucks time.
I’m interested.
Can you hack into the NYPD database and find out who these two losers are? Sam forwarded JJ’s email to Walrus.
Wow. Who’s the ninja?
Good buddy. Can you do it?
More.
More what?
More dough what else?
Seventy-five.
A hundred.
Done.
Chapter 28
At precisely 5:32 p.m., Abby, Olivia and Noah entered the lobby of the Vector Building to find Byron, Leonard and Jeff in deep discussion with a distressed Queenie. None of them seemed to notice the newcomers.
Byron pointed to a stained glass window. “Don’t see that very much in New York.”
“That’s why I’m thinking we can make this a land play,” nodded Leonard. “We’ll hold the paper on the building. If the New Amsterdam succeeds, everything’s cool. If it goes tits up, we foreclose, take ownership and develop.”
“The owners only want to sell because of the vision,” pleaded Queenie.
“Which is perfectly within their rights,” replied Byron. “It is also perfectly within our rights to make sure that our asses are protected.”
Seems to be a common theme. “Sorry we’re late,” interrupted Noah. “What’s happening?”
The Noah Reid Action Thriller Series: Books 1-3 (plus special bonuses) Page 50
