Forged in Honor (1995)

by Leonard B Scott

  Josh sighed. "Nothing gets past you, does it, Meg? I swear, you know everything I do."

  "Almost everything," she said, eyeing him. "So who were they?"

  "FBI. They wanted to talk to me and bug my phone."

  Meg rolled her eyes. "Yeah, sure. Come on, who were they?"

  "Meg, they were really, truly, honest-to-god FBI agents.

  You remember I talked about Stephen, my friend in Burma?

  Well he's in the States and in some trouble. The FBI thinks he may try and get in touch with me. I'm telling you this because he probably will. There's a couple of agents hanging around, so don't get antsy if you see a pair of guys snoopin' around. If you see people you don't know around my boat, just call me. Whatever you do, don't confront them-just call and stay out of the picture."

  Meg's face had become pale as he spoke. She grabbed his hand in a viselike grip. "Are you in danger?"

  "Me? Heck no. Stephen is like a brother, but I don't trust the Bureau. They always pull their guns before thinking.

  Don't look so scared. Probably nothin' is gonna happen, so don't worry about it."

  She released her grip slowly and got up with a cold glare.

  "Great, now I won't sleep nights worrying about you. Damn you, why can't you be like normal people?"

  Josh canted his head to the side and looked at her with a grin. "You, of all people, are saying I'm not normal?"

  She smiled. "Okay, so we aren't like the temps. I'll keep an eye out, but I won't get in the way. Stefne knows about all this, right?"

  "Yeah, and bitchin' up a storm. Talk to her, will ya? I can't get her to calm down. It's best for Stephen to come in, and this way nobody gets hurt. I know him, and I'm sure he has a damn good excuse for his troubles."

  "I'll talk to her as soon as she gets here. I gotta go, I have classes to teach. And Josh, thanks. I'm glad ya told me."

  Josh nodded in silence.

  As soon as the cabin door closed the phone rang. All calls were taken at the office, so his phone almost never rang unless it was Stefne calling for him. She, Kelly, and Meg were the only ones who had his direct-line number. He picked up the handset, knowing it wasn't Stef. "Hawkins."

  "Why'd you tell her about us?"

  " 'Cause she's family and has to know." Josh looked out the porthole toward the Channel Inn's third-floor room on the end. "You guys comfortable?"

  "We're a little upset that you said we pulled our pieces before thinking."

  "I was trying to make a p6int. Meg is good people and knows everybody on the Front. She made you two as soon as you showed your faces around the pier."

  "Okay, Mr. Hawkins, we understand. Do us a favor, will you? When you use the latrine, shut the door. The mikes we put in your boat are very sensitive, and that song you were singing this morning when you were in the shower just about did us in. No offense, but you're no Conway Twitty."

  Josh walked over to the porthole. "Look out your window.

  Can you see this?" He stuck his middle finger up to the porthole glass.

  "Yeah, we see it."

  "Good. No offense."

  The cruiser waited until the black Chrysler was two miles from the estate before speeding up to close in. The third precinct sergeant behind the wheel glanced at his partner. "Remember, make it look routine, but check 'em out good. You got the paper?"

  The partner nodded with a smile. "Yeah, this is a piece of cake."

  They followed the car another block before turning on the bubble machine. The big Chrysler pulled into the parking lot of a 7-Eleven.

  The two police officers approached the vehicle from opposite sides. The sergeant knocked on the car's roof and spoke loudly. "Lower all of the tinted windows so I can see you and the occupants, but please remain in the vehicle."

  He waited until the driver's window had rolled down. "Sir, please step out of the car. I will need to see your license and registration. Please tell the other occupants to remain seated in the vehicle and keep their hands where my partner can see them."

  "Why are you stopping us?" snapped Dorba, leaning forward from the backseat.

  "Sir, your driver failed to yield for a pedestrian in a walkway one mile back. Please sit back and remain quiet."

  The driver, a thick-shouldered Oriental, glared up at the sergeant and spoke Chinese to the front-seat passenger beside him before opening the door.

  "Freeze!" the officer said, placing his hand on his holster.

  He barked to his partner, "This one is carrying. Check yours."

  Fifteen minutes later the two smiling officers got back in their car. They'd followed the rules of being polite but had been very thorough in checking all the paperwork, especially the weapons permits.

  The sergeant motioned to the Chrysler as it backed up and pulled out onto the road. "Did you hear that? The driver told me he was a driver and gardener. He was wearing an eight hundred-dollar sharkskin suit and two-hundred-dollar shoes-a gardener?"

  His partner grinned. "Mine said he was maintenance man for the estate. I asked him why a maintenance man needed a nine-millimeter, and you know what he says to me? Rats.

  Yeah, he says rats. Can you believe the balls of that Chink to say that to me with a straight face? Mr. Big in the back was not a happy camper. You notice he wrote down our badge numbers."

  The sergeant started the engine. "We better call it in and tell 'em what we got. You have your paper?"

  The second cop motioned to the top form attached to his clipboard. It was standard practice to make the occupants of a stopped car sign a form that was conveniently dropped so they had to pick it up and put their prints on the special paper. "It got a little wet, but the prints will be fine. I have one Mr. Big signed for me, too. You think the detectives will get these guys?"

  "Have you ever worked with the guys in Narcotics and Special Ops? They don't always play by the rules. If these big-money Chinks are dirty, they'll be going down. Bank on it."

  Josh shook his head. "You're not trying."

  Bob tossed him the raquetball. "You have a problem, boss.

  You don't feel pain. I'm beat. You've run me ragged and whipped my ass five games straight. This is not fun."

  Josh shrugged. "It is for me. Come on, one more game and I'll let up on my serve."

  Bob shook his head dejectedly and walked for the door.

  "I've had it. Find somebody else to humiliate."

  "Hold it," Josh said, louder than he had intended. "I'm sorry. I just needed to win today. When you're my age, you'll understand. Come on, I'll buy you a Coke or mineral water or whatever you young guys drink nowadays." He put his arm over Bob's shoulder. "I'm trying to make it right here.

  Give me a break, huh?"

  Bob sighed and walked out with him.

  Stefne was seated in the office when Josh and Bob walked in. She gave them both her best evil glare before looking back at her school notes.

  "Why aren't you studying on the boat?" Josh asked.

  She gave him a sarcastic look. "It's spooky knowing somebody is listening to me breathe. Forget it. I'll stick around here or go back to the apartment later. Dad, I heard at school today that heroin is very plentiful around campus and in Georgetown. The word is it's cheap and really pure.

  We'd better warn the guys tonight."

  Josh looked at Bob and smiled. "God, I love her. She's just like her ole man, always thinkin'." He winked at him. "You heard her, let's put on an extra rover tonight."

  Bob played it cool. "I'll get right on it, boss."

  Chinatown Dorba sat beside his desk with his hands folded beneath his chin as he listened to one of his colonels.

  "I was stopped by the police after leaving your office.

  They searched my car as if I were a common criminal. This is an outrage."

  Dorba nodded. "It will not happen again. Our lawyers are ensuring that our rights will be not violated anymore."

  Dorba shifted his gaze to his young legal adviser. "Michael, do you now see why a lesson is nece
ssary? They have insulted my officers and me. They are obviously watching this building and identifying all those who do business with us. I'm very impressed by the speed with which they have singled us out. They are smarter than I thought. All the more reason for the lesson."

  Dorba turned to his chief of staff. "Qui, are you prepared?"

  Qui smiled. "The teams have made their reconnaissance where necessary. All is ready."

  Michael Woo spoke up with a tremor in his voice. "San Chu, I beg you to reconsider these actions. The police can do nothing, for they have no proof of wrongdoing on our part.

  Their harassment tactics are a desperate effort on their part.

  We have nothing to fear, and our lawyers will stop the harassment today. They have had the warning letter for only two days. If you go through with these acts of violence, they will know we are responsible."

  Dorba's eyes were cold. "Yes, I know." He looked at Qui.

  "Tomorrow, when you deem it best."

  Qui bowed his head. "The lesson will be delivered, San Chu."

  Galesburg, Illinois A young pilot strolled into the small waiting room and glanced at the seated man before putting two quarters into a soda machine. He pushed the button for a Pepsi, picked up the can, and looked down the narrow hallway in both directions before facing the waiting passenger. "I hear you warm go east. That right?"

  Stephen glanced up from the paper he was reading. "Yes, you know someone heading that way?"

  The pilot again looked down the halls. "Yeah, me. I fly for Co-Op Feed Mills. I'm not allowed to take passengers, but if you wanna go to Norfolk, Virginia, I'm leaving in an hour.

  Two hundred bucks cash sound fair?"

  Stephen's alternative was a flight at six that evening going only as far as Mansfield, Ohio. He stood and offered his hand. "Very fair."

  The pilot ignored his hand. "Be at the green hangar in thirty minutes, and don't say anything to anybody about this.

  I could get in a lot of trouble, but I need some cash for my wife's birthday. Half an hour, don't be late." The pilot headed down the hall toward the door.

  Waterfront, Washington, D. C.

  Glenn Grant found him in Hogate's bar talking to Harry.

  She leaned against the bar and waited until he was finished talking before winking at him. He walked over and put his arm around her shoulder. "You worked late tonight, I see.

  You do look good in that uniform, though."

  Her eyes searched his face. "Stephen contact you yet?"

  "Nope, not a word."

  "Well, it's bigger than I thought. The FBI didn't tell us the whole story. I was ordered to Langley this afternoon to see the officer who handles the Burma desk. He gave me a complete rundown on the situation. They've made contact with Xu Kang. They want me to talk to you and get you in."

  Josh closed his eyes in relief. "Thank God, the old Lion is still alive."

  "Yes, he's alive and in a border camp in Thailand. He has Stephen's son, but there's some very bad news.... Stephen's wife died in Dinto prison."

  Josh lowered his head, remembering the last time he'd seen her. It was the day he'd been ordered to leave the country. Stephen and Mya had come to the airport. She had hugged him and Jill, crying. Josh felt his eyes moisten, for Mya had become like a sister to him.

  Seeing his reaction, Grant spoke softly. "I'm sorry, Josh.

  Xu Kang wants Stephen back to help lead an insurgency against the government. The Company has agreed."

  Josh shook his head. "It's suicide."

  "Maybe not. Xu Kang has a big intel network in Rangoon keeping him apprised of the situation. It's not all bad news.

  Swei is conducting a purge of the minorities who were in the government and all the opposition party leaders. It's caused a quiet revolt. People are leaving the country and joining up with Xu Kang. Lots of people. The Company also has a prisoner given to them by Kang. The prisoner was involved in killing the intelligence community people when the truck hit the embassy. The DDSI did it."

  Josh took a deep breath and looked over the crowd. "Let's talk about something else. I've had enough bad news for one day."

  "Josh, it's not going to go away. You can't hide in your world and think somebody else will take care of all the problems."

  Josh shifted his eyes to her. "I can sure as hell try. I did my part, remember?"

  Grant nodded slowly, seeing he was hurt by the news about Mya. She reached up and stroked his face. "Come over when you get off work, and we'll both get away for a while.

  I promise I'll take your mind off today."

  He smiled lightly. "That's the best offer I've had in a long time. I'll be there."

  "You know the code to get in and have a key, so let yourself in. Wake me up if I'm asleep-I need you to hold me."

  Josh gave her a gentle hug. "I'm not gonna stay here much longer; it's slow."

  "Good. I'll see you in a bit, then."

  He watched her walk away and felt sick inside. It was as if a small piece of him had died when he heard Mya was dead. Again his eyes began to water, and he turned toward the men's room. Before he got there, an FBI agent leaned against the bar and said, out of the side of his mouth, "Go to the kitchen, now."

  Josh never looked at the man or acknowledged his presence. He glanced over the crowd routinely and slowly ambled through the kitchen door.

  The other agent was waiting for him and handed him a picture. "We're not the only ones watching you."

  "Who are they?" Josh asked, studying the picture of two Latino men in a new BMW.

  "We're not sure just yet, but they're pros, that's for sure.

  We spotted them when you left the lady's apartment early this morning and walked back to your boat. These two are just one team-they sit in the apartment parking lot and roll when you drive. Three women and one man in another team are watching you at work. They're good. They change their looks by using glasses and wigs. This is no small-time tail operation. It's strictly pro and is costing somebody big bucks.

  Could be the mob or-"

  "Chinese," Josh said, finishing the sentence.

  The agent smirked. "You're way ahead of us. Yeah, it could be the Triad, which means they are looking for Kang too. This is all beginning to stink. Kang must know something, so you're now in big-time danger."

  The agent picked up a bag and dumped it on the table.

  "Take this and wear it. We heard you know how to use it."

  He handed Josh a shoulder holster with a nine-millimeter Beretta.

  Josh took off his jacket to put on the holster. "You takin' them down or gonna watch them and hope for bigger fish?"

  The agent held the holster straps as Josh ran one arm through. "The brass says watch them. We have two more teams assigned, including some tech boys. The ones tailing you on the job call in to the guys in the BMW, as best we can tell. Our tech guys will be able to monitor all those calls and any the car boys make to their bosses. We don't think they know about us. We were lucky-our surveillance was loose because we knew your schedule. Which reminds me.

  Are you going to visit the lady again tonight?"

  Josh nodded as he put on his jacket. "Yeah, we're going to talk."

  The agent's expression didn't change. "Okay. Just keep an eye out. This is getting big, Hawkins, real big."

  Glenn was sitting on the couch when he opened her apartment door and walked in. She didn't get up or avert her eyes from the packet she was examining until Josh sat down beside her and said, "Must be good reading."

  She made a sour look. "I've been around you too much.

  I'm getting as cynical as you are on this drug war business.

  This is a read-ahead packet for the conference tomorrow, and it's all politician double-talk claiming that everything is getting better. Why can't they look at the real issues and do something?"

  Josh put his arm around her and gave her a gentle squeeze.

  "The problem, my dear, is very simple. Nobody is in charge.

  All the agen
cies are doing their own thing since nobody is setting priorities or writing out a plan for all of them to follow. They won't dare let another agency take the lead because it could mean a loss of funds for their organization.

  Don't worry about it. Relax and come into my world. It's the only way you'll be able to keep your sanity."

  She yielded to his touch and laid her head back against his shoulder. Suddenly she sat up and pulled back his coat. "So that's what poked me. You're now carrying a pistol on the job?"