The Mandarin's Vendetta (Rayna Tan Action Thriller Series Book 2)

by Wesley Robert Lowe

  “Just wait,” said the general.

  “Now!” bellowed Bora. He rushed ferociously at Park, swinging wildly. The general sidestepped the blows and landed a punch of his own to Bora’s mid-section.

  Nari and Yoon began giggling and pointing at Bora.

  “Kill him,” laughed Nari. “He deserves it!” She kicked his head, knocking him out. Off-balance, she fell to the floor.

  Yoon took off her top and her bra. “It’s so hot in here. Not like all the other times.”

  The semi-nude young girl didn’t look at all appealing. The blood vessels in her eyes expanded to crimson rivulets, a curl of white foam formed at her mouth. She plastered her small breasts on the Mandarin. “Make me, take me,” she gasped as she tried to thrust her tongue down the Mandarin’s.

  “No!” ranted Park, pulling the girl off the Mandarin before her tongue touched his best customer’s lips. Yoon flopped to the ground.

  “I’m so hot,” cried the girl, her whole body drenched in sweat.

  The general pulled the Mandarin to the door and the two watched in cold, studied fascination as the three alternated between howling, convulsing and biting at each other.

  Then cries of pain as if the flames of hell had been shot up their rectums. Quivering, shivering, spasming… then stillness.

  “Proof enough?” asked Park as he opened the door.

  The Mandarin nodded. “We have a deal. Let’s get to work.”

  In four hours, the next shift would enter the room to find the dead trio. It would be assumed that Bora and the two women for some perverted reason decided to be a threesome. Unfortunately, they overdosed while getting ready for ecstasy.

  They at least got that part right.

  The hotel would empty the dead trio’s pockets and purses of any money they had, then get the basement room cleaned up and ready for use again within an hour.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  The small auditorium in the State Administration for Trade and Commerce Building was full of bureaucrats in suits, television cameras, radio and internet news reporters. They were all watching the latest in Deputy Minister Zhong Li’s business triumphs—another joint cooperation deal with the West. This was with Fidelitas, a “major North American investment firm,” which was represented by two senior officials: Arthur Yang from the Hong Kong branch and Barry Rogers from San Francisco. Together, China and Fidelitas “would develop and explore new markets for Chinese products, in addition to the products that Fidelitas already distributes.”

  There were many thousands of these kinds of treaties signed with companies from all over the world, but most of them were for the benefit of no one except the bureaucrats who signed them. Most Westerners, governments, private and public companies had no clue at how to do business with China. They didn’t have the patience, they didn’t understand the intricacies of Chinese deal making, and they didn’t understand that, with the Chinese, there was not a “win win” attitude toward business but that of a “take no prisoners” approach. Of course, the Chinese did everything with a smile and a legion of bureaucrats at every meeting. This made the visitors warm and fuzzy and gave them the false understanding that they had accomplished something.

  The biggest mistake that Westerners made in trying to do business with the Chinese was that they didn’t understand the importance of “Face Time.” Not the video telephony product developed by Apple, but “face time” as in spending hours upon hours in socializing, drinking and having meals together. Only with this actual physical time spent with potential partners would real business opportunities be allowed to emerge. The signing of the treaty was just the beginning but, without face time, there was little going forward.

  Arthur understood that well. It was a wonder that he had been able to maintain a trim physique after all the twelve-course Chinese banquets he had eaten at or that he had any brain cells left with all the scotch, baiju (a favorite Chinese alcohol) or cognac he’d drunk. Without that, though, he would never have gotten to do some of the exceptional deals that he had with the Chinese government, industrialists or criminals.

  Deputy Minister Zhong’s ten million in North American real estate was pretty small potatoes compared to some of the other deals Arthur had brokered. Almost too small, but Zhong’s influence and contacts were exceptional. He was more than happy to point out enemies of the state as well as introduce Fidelitas to some “wealthy people who needed help.” All this for a fee, of course.

  The gathered audience gave a standing ovation and applauded after Barry, Arthur and Deputy Minister Zhong finished the signing. Not that anyone could see it, but Zhong held up a copy of the signed treaty for all the media to take pictures of. After that, there was another half hour of photo taking that Barry, Arthur and Zhong used as a photo op with the ministry staff.

  Signing ceremony complete, Zhong completely understood that, while Barry was going to join him for dinner, Arthur needed to excuse himself to attend to the situation that developed at Hundred Hands.

  One person, maybe the only person, who watched the live streaming of the event, was Mary. Sitting in her office and watching the festivities, she carefully noted the praise that Zhong heaped on Arthur. While she didn’t recognize most of the companies that Zhong mentioned, two especially piqued her interest: Hansheng Industries and Northern Star Developments. These two firms were like the Mandarin’s; seemingly legit on the outside, they made their real money with a host of illegal activities. Furthermore, both of them had a larger scope than the Mandarin’s. Zhong had further mentioned that Hansheng was currently working with Fidelitas on a “major project.”

  Mary made a call.

  “Yes?” asked the Mandarin.

  “The Deputy Minister vetted Arthur and he’s doing a deal with Hansheng.”

  “Good job, Mary.”

  Mary couldn’t believe what she had just heard. The Mandarin had never complimented her in all the years that she had worked for him. Until now.

  Chapter Fifty

  To Chuck, the chopper transporting Rayna felt like it was going in slow motion, like it was floating over gossamer milky clouds. In reality, it was hurtling at more than a hundred-and- fifty miles an hour. The direct “as the crow flies” journey took less than forty-five minutes before the motorized metal bird landed on the helipad on the roof of Guangzhou Military Hospital, well known in China for its outstanding record of patient outcomes, technological research and surgical teams rivaling the best American healthcare.

  Rayna was immediately prepped for surgery in the operation room. There was one minor mercy. Because the bullets had passed through Sting’s body before entering hers, they had lost a lot of energy. Not great, but at least they did not penetrate her chest wall and damage the lungs.

  However, there was still a hell of a lot of blood loss and it was hard to control the bleeding, especially during the initial turbulence of the flight. During the last few minutes of the flight, her pulse disappeared. Under expert care, the odds for survival were greatly increased. It took the trauma surgeon scant minutes to remove the bullets and Rayna was now prepped for defibrillation shock therapy.

  Paddles were placed on her chest and electrical current was delivered. Rayna’s body jerked in reaction to the electric stimulus but the EKG did not register any sign of life. The paddles were put back on Rayna’s chest and shock was applied again.

  Still no registration of heart beat.

  A third time and still the same results—nada.

  Steve shook his head remorsefully. “I don’t think there’s any point. She was touch and go at best but there’s nothing else we can do.”

  “No, we can’t give up yet,” cried Popo’s voice. “I can’t lose her again.”

  Chuck, Steve and the medical staff looked to the door to see Arthur hurrying in with Rayna’s grandmother. While the signing was going on, Arthur, through Deputy Minister Zhong, had arranged for another chopper to go to Golden Corner to pick up Popo. The elderly woman was frightened to see armed soldier
s entering her home. One of the soldiers handed her a cell phone and Arthur explained the situation to her. The old woman didn’t understand much except that her precious newfound granddaughter was dying. She accompanied the soldiers to the awaiting helicopter that took her directly to the Military Hospital’s roof where Arthur awaited.

  “She has lost too much blood and defibrillation has not worked either. It is pointless. You can see for yourself she has flatlined—her heart shows no electrical activity. I am sorry,” announced a grim-faced Steve to the entering duo.

  “No! No!” wailed Popo, throwing herself on Rayna’s bed.

  A soldier escorted in an elderly, distinguished-looking Chinese gentleman.

  Arthur went to the door and announced, “Gentlemen, this is Dr. Aaron Xi, one of the most progressive practitioners of Traditional Chinese Medicine in Shanghai. I arranged for him to fly here, too.”

  Progressive was putting it mildly. Radical was a more appropriate term. Xi was often “doctor of last resort.” Steve bowed—he knew who Dr. Xi was. “She’s dead, Dr. Xi. Even your magic won’t work in a case like this.”

  Dr. Xi gave Steve a withering look. He had heard that statement too many times before. “I don’t use magic. But I don’t use your definition of medicine, either. I have expanded it.”

  Arthur pulled authority quietly, “Steve, work with Dr. Xi. You never know what can happen.”

  Steve resisted an urge to respond and swallowed. “Of course.” Steve addressed his staff. “Let’s get back to work. Any assistance you can give will be of tremendous value, Dr. Xi.”

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Some of Dr. Xi’s treatments were unorthodox at best, at least according to most Western-trained doctors.

  But Western medicine had proven itself fallible time and time again. People had awoken after years of being in a coma. Long-suffering cancer patients were inexplicably and suddenly found symptom-free.

  What gave Arthur and Barry the determination to continue with treatment, though, were not the miracle stories of others—it was the examples of healing that they witnessed. Both of them had been Fidelitas field operatives. Both of them faced death numerous times. Both of them somehow managed to defeat the odds. Totally irrational… but completely true.

  In the Philippines, Arthur witnessed a “psychic surgeon” pressing down and pulling a tumor out of a man’s stomach with his bare hands. In Japan, a Fidelitas associate was encouraged to vomit continuously until toxins resembling coffee grounds were puked out—his cancer was cured.

  In a small Italian town, Barry accompanied Paulina to the shrine where she prostrated herself for a day. When she got up, a heart condition had disappeared, confirmed by her cardiologist who had initially diagnosed the existence of malignant tumors.

  Were these miracles, or alternative therapies that science had yet to understand?

  Let the academics and skeptics debate was the attitude that Arthur and Barry took. For them, what works, works. They would employ any methods necessary to save their people.

  For Barry, Rayna was particularly special. She had been recommended to join Fidelitas by his late son, Jonathan. Jonathan and Rayna co-led Jon’s final mission. Jon had saved Rayna’s life in a small war-ravaged Iraqi town. Inside a decrepit three-story house, where terrorists had holed up, Rayna and Jon were in the same room as a young suicide bomber. When the bomber pressed the final number on her cell phone to detonate the explosives on her vest, Jon threw himself at her and the two crashed through the window where the bombs detonated in mid-air. Rayna accompanied Jon’s body back to San Francisco for the funeral.

  Shortly after, Barry recruited her to take the position as an operative that Jon was supposed to have.

  ***

  Within an hour of Dr. Xi’s arrival, Rayna was blood-typed and had two IV drips hanging beside her bed with tubes connecting the bags’ contents to her veins via IV catheter needles. One bag contained blood that was the same type as Rayna’s. The other was a special mixture of herbs and medicines created by Dr. Xi. As per Dr. Xi’s instructions, her body was also covered with three hundred sharp acupuncture needles that Dr. Xi tapped to increase the qi (life energy).

  Shortly after treatment began on Rayna, an unconscious Henry was brought into the room. Harry tried his best but the emergency surgery at Hundred Hands failed so, like his daughter, he was medically dead. Barry had asked Dr. Xi to treat him as well so this required yet another trip to the Military Hospital from the temple.

  His diagnosis was similar to Rayna’s—his qi must be restored to proper levels. Dr. Xi’s diagnosis concluded that a similar treatment to Rayna’s was in order. In a short few minutes, Henry was lying in the bed next to Rayna, his body covered with acupuncture needles and two IV drips sending fluids into his veins.

  After her tears had run so much that she could cry no more, Popo remembered her faithful resolve. She refused to sag under the heaviness of despair. Not now. Not after so many years of wondering… and wandering… through the desert of life. Asking Shangti (Supreme Deity or God) for forgiveness, she remained steadfast on her knees, praying at Rayna’s side while Dr. Xi went back and forth between his two patients. He began tapping the needles, another method of stimulating the energy.

  “I will be here for a while.” Dr. Xi’s fingers danced on the needles in Rayna’s body. “There is no way of knowing how long this will take so, if you need to go, you can.”

  “Someone will contact you if there’s a change,” stated Steve. While he tried to hide it, Barry and Arthur could sense that the physician didn’t hold much hope for a positive outcome.

  Barry looked at Arthur. They both knew that their presence was useless. Rayna was in as good hands as she could be. They left the room with Steve.

  “I’ve heard of Dr. Xi’s methods working, but I’ve never actually seen them in action,” said Steve. “I must admit the Western doctor in me is somewhat skeptical.”

  “Steve,” replied Arthur, “according to you, both Henry and Rayna are dead. This may be a shot in the dark but it’s the only shot we’ve got.”

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Was it accidental or on purpose or “accidentally on purpose?” No one could really answer that question but what was clear was that there were multiple healing approaches in the hospital room with Rayna and Henry. There was Chinese medicine as practiced by Dr. Xi. There was Western medicine represented by Steve. There was the spiritual, offered by Popo.

  Barry and Arthur didn’t care. As businessmen, they had learned to hedge their bets. They had brought in Steve and Dr. Xi but were glad to add Popo to the mix. Whatever works, works.

  ***

  Inside the room, Popo buried her face in her hands. I never thought that I would ever get a chance to see you, Rayna. I didn’t even know whether you were alive or not. God, don’t take her away now.

  Hours passed with Rayna’s kneeling grandmother keeping up her whispered, almost inaudible, prayer vigil. She had been praying at the little church in Golden Corner for years and God had answered that prayer about Popo seeing her. Now, she was hoping for another miracle.

  Dr. Xi was deep in concentration as he periodically adjusted Rayna’s needles or strength of tapping. Paramedics and nurses popped in and out to take readings.

  After Xi had made his diagnosis, he contacted an aide who brought some of his own personal medicines and herbs from Shanghai. Some of them were immersed in Chinese alcohol to create a medicinal tincture. Others were placed in a mortar where he ground them and placed different combinations in portable metal and glass containers, boiling them in water over a portable burner. After the fluid cooled, he forced some of the fluids down her throat. A special decoction was mixed in with the IV solution.

  Rayna lay still on the hospital bed. Eyes opened, unblinking, vacuous, insensate. Or so it seemed.

  But, unknown to everyone, Rayna was fully aware—not of her surroundings but of her own feelings. An incredible calm, a serenity. She felt no pain and wondered why she was be
ing intubated. That made no sense to her. She was conscious of being bathed in light of growing brightness. She had no concept of time and didn’t know if it were seconds or minutes that the light was with her. But she did know that, as the light grew more intense, the forms of the people in the room faded.

  In fact, the room itself seemed to fade, and she felt like she was submerged in water. Not like water in a bathtub or the ocean or lake but… what was it?

  Then inner tears of joy as warmth radiated throughout her being. She was surrounded by the fluid of an amniotic sac.

  Rayna was at peace.

  Giggling female voices sliced through Rayna’s tranquility. She turned her head to discover two women looking through the membranes of the amniotic sac. One of them playfully teased in Chinese, “Pang Pang. (Little fat one).” That resulted in a squeal of delight from the other.

  The cloudy membrane of the sac transformed to transparency. There was Vivian, her mother, and a teenage girl. To Rayna, they were the most beautiful women in the world. The two began to sing.

  Yě dì de huā,，Chuān zhe měi lì de yī shang

  Tiān kōng de niǎo er,

  Cóng lái bu wèi shēng huó máng

  Cí' ài de tiān fù,

  Tiān tiān doū kàn gù

  Tā gèng ài shì shàng rén,

  Wèi tā men yù bèi yǒng shēng de lù

  (Flowers of the field

  So beautifully displayed.

  Songbirds freely singing

  Innocently, unafraid

  Gracious, Heavenly Father

  Always watching me

  You shine to all the world

  For now, for eternity)

  Rayna knew that Vivian had sung the song to her since she was a baby but now, as she heard the teenager sing, she realized that she had always known the song—the teenager had sung it to her when she was in the young girl’s womb.