The Noah Reid Series: Books 1-3: The Noah Reid Action Thriller Series Boxset

by Wesley Robert Lowe

  “Tommy!” muttered the increasingly irritated Garret.

  “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 gave Garret a teasing look. “We could make beautiful music together.”

  “I think we better change topics before Garret has a heart attack,” 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 21

  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.

  Teenage drug dealers, car thieves, garden-variety street punks—these were part of the group Noah played basketball with. With them—and with his best bud and confidante, Chad Huang. When 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. It was a no-brainer for Noah to accept or, as he put it, “Did you really have to ask? Duh.”

  One good thing about basketball was you don’t need much to play. Any open space any size will do as long as you’ve got a ball. The first thing Noah did when he got to the schoolyard for the night’s game 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.

  Of course, that wasn’t the ball Noah was streaking down the court with. That one was safely stored away in the trunk of the car. Noah shot past Chad and all the kids, going in for an easy lay-up.

  “Yes!” shouted Noah as he pumped his fist.

  “Ball hog! No worries; we’ll get it back big time,” called out the ponytailed Chad to his team.

  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 fight. It turned into one jumbo of a rumble. And it was no playground pussy fight, either. Lexus whipped out a switchblade and charged at Sam. As he passed Noah, the lawyer tripped Lexus, sending the off-balance 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.

  Chad threw 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 and Chad 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,” Chad 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 take action, but he had no choice. He 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.

  Another kid ran at him with a knife, slashing viciously. Noah swiveled with a masterful aerial leg strike that knocked the boy several feet back before he smashed into the ground. Somehow, Noah delivered his kick in such a way that the knife flew spinning directly to Chad, who snatched it in midair.

  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 shuffled back, away from the scene of the fight. With no one else wanting to take him on, Noah relaxed. He made the Shaolin hand sign to the boys who lay panting on the ground. “Peace,” he smiled.

  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 22

  Unlike Western restaurants where soup was served at the table in individual bowls, in an authentic Chinese restaurant, a large bowl was brought to the table and the soup servings were ladled out into individual bowls. As this was a special meal for special guests, Wing brought in a solid-gold container with the Chinese character for Tiger emblazoned on it.

  He lifted the lid, revealing a mélange of shark’s fin, sea cucumber, abalone, dried scallops and twenty other ingredients.

  Tommy’s eyes widened, and his lips smacked in delight. “Monk Jumping over the Wall. My favorite.”

  “Don’t make that sound. It’s so crude, Daddy,” scolded Abby.

  “Can you remember you’re back in Asia, not some fancy place in New York?” Tommy grinned at Garret and Olivia. “Forgive her. She forgets that, in China, the smacking of lips is a sign of approval.”

  With one hand behind his back, Wing ladled the soup into solid-gold bowls. He stepped back and stood at attention. “Enjoy. If you want, I can add a little salt or perhaps a touch of vinegar, or maybe you’d like some mou tai in it.”

  “It would be a sin to put any alcohol into this.” Tommy devoured his soup with vigor. “It’s perfect. More.” Tommy expertly spun his bowl back to Wing, who quickly replenished it.

  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 do 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. Yes, some emigrate to excellent restaurants overseas, but we make sure the best stay with us. Your chef tonight was recruited from a seven-star Michelin restaurant, and yours is the only meal he is preparing. He has 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.

  Wing smiled 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. 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. Ripping off their robes, they renounced their vows of vegetarianism and jumped over the ten-foot wall just to let their tongues wet themselves 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, Wing. Last time it was a single monk. This time, you’ve got the whole damned monastery doing the jumping.”

  “Mr. Southam...” stammered Wing.

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

  Tommy rose, disturbed.

  ***

  OREGON

  With leaves turning colors on the maple trees, it was a beautiful autumn noon for a walk in the park. A conservatively dressed man with dark glasses and a hat was having a quiet chat with Prez, a conservatively dressed woman also wearing dark glasses. They strolled past secretaries eating lunch on benches, a few joggers trying to catch up on their cardio, and other businesspeople taking a break from endless meetings.

  “Senator, your cooperation in assisting us is always appreciated,” said the younger woman, somewhere in her thirties.

  “Always glad to be of assistance to my constituents,” said the fit politician in his sixties.

  There was a pause while each person took a few bites from a take-out deli sandwich.

  “Your reelection campaign is not going well,” Prez stated. “You’re nine points behind your opponent. You need to increase your media spend.”

  “Television commercials cost more than twenty thousand per thirty seconds right now. Prime time is even worse.”

  “Senator, with all due respect, television should be only part of the overall strategy. You need to get boots on the sidewalk going door to door and exploit other media to the fullest, none of which you are doing right now.”

  “What’s killing me is not that. It’s the environmentalists. I feel that every tree hugger in the country wants to save a few hundred birds that no one ever sees.” The senator looked glum.

  “Change your position then.”

  “But mining means jobs. Good-paying jobs.”

  “And you think a million-square-foot casino wouldn’t? We’d keep the environmentalists happy.”

  “The Bible thumpers will have my ass if I do that.”

  “And you will get elected by a landslide.” She gave him a smug look. “Our casino will employ thousands. Tourism will bust at the gut. Hollywood will come calling.”

  The senator knew what the lobbyist was saying was true. They walked a few steps in silence, and then Prez stopped. The senator turned to her. Even as she hid behind her sunglasses, he could tell she was dead serious.

  “I’ve never asked for anything before, and I promise this will be the last. And, if you don’t support my cause, I promise this will be your last campaign as well, win or lose. I am putting an additional million into your private fund. Use it wisely.”

  “Don’t threaten me, Prez.”

  “It’s not a threat. It’s a guarantee.”

  At a fork in the path, the senator took the right path; Prez took a left.

  Throughout the years, Prez had always been strong, noble, direct... and dangerous. Just like the dragon tattooed on her inner thigh.

  She looked at her watch. In twenty minutes, she would be walking through the park again, having another cucumber-and-tomato sandwich. This time, she would have a similar conversation with the senator’s main opponent.

  Chapter 23

  THE TIGER RESTAURANT

  Duke and Pau methodically assembled their crossbows.

  Each of the dark-clothed men screwed the prods together to create his bow. With care, each man firmly attached heavy-duty string to his bow’s 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 a thumbs-up. Duke took a key out of his jacket pocket and opened the door.

  The silence changed to the cacophony 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 look down the wall and saw Chin in a private room about two hundred feet away.

  ***

  “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 Chin 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,” said Chin 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. “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,” stated Chin definitively.

  The room turned icy as Garret quietly addressed Chin. “You have audited statements, including the ones the acc
ountants 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 Italy, 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.”