“Next time. And can we not talk about touchy feely stuff? I prefer soccer and am a huge World Cup fan. And...”
“And?”
“Can we go for burgers and beer instead?”
“So we’ll meet for meat?” Noah placed special stress on the words meet and meat to emphasize the pun.
Olivia rolled her eyes. “You are such a putz.”
Chapter 31
Chin sat in the office of Stella Wei, an alluring, sexy woman not normally found handling private bank accounts. However, the East Asia Bank found Stella most useful for promoting the bank in special client relations.
“You look as if something is on your mind, Mr. Chin,” said Stella in a soft, caring voice.
“Something is always on my mind. It’s a normal state of affairs. If it weren’t, I’d be dead.”
“True, and here is something else for you to think about. I was assigned a small portion of your portfolio, two million dollars. In the month that I’ve had it, I have generated a 10 percent return.”
“Two hundred thousand?”
“It’s 201,674.33 to be exact.”
For the first time, Chin noticed her. Rather than being businesslike and androgynous in appearance like most bankers, Stella’s form-fitting mauve dress strategically emphasized the curves in her well-formed bosom and her twenty-one-inch waist.
“That’s commendable, and I’m excited about the prospects.”
“Handling your account is exciting, Mr. Chin,” she murmured.
“When are you going to going to stop calling me Mr. Chin?”
“When can I be of more use than handling your affairs at the bank?”
Chin paused a moment. He never liked mixing his personal life with business affairs. His experiences with women rarely lasted more than a few days, but business relationships took time to develop. Women who thought they could be useful on an ongoing basis were particularly problematic. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Stella. As long as you make me money, that will be more than satisfactory.”
Stella spoke in a low, smooth I’m-interested-in-you kind of tone. “People bore me, but money fascinates me. Men with money fascinate me even more.”
“I am not an easy man, Stella. My standards are very high. You remember Mr. Sung?”
“Of course. Your representative. Very capable.”
“Unfortunately, Mr. Sung no longer works for me.”
“You fired him?”
Assessing her carefully, Chin’s eyes bored into Stella’s. “No.” He leaned over and spoke in a whisper. “I killed him.” As Chin leaned back, he saw the slightest glint of fear on Stella’s face but, for people like Stella, ambition always overrules. “Chin, may I apply for his position? Perhaps we could have dinner tonight?”
“What’s on the menu?”
Stella smiled, leaned over to Chin, took his hand and moved it to touch her bosom. “Me.”
Chapter 32
Noah was going bug-eyed studying everything he could about Golden Asia. In addition to the reams of paper Garret gave him, he had also gone through the USB files and trolled the Internet.
All the documentation from Pittman Saunders indicated that Golden Asia was a conservative, straight-as-an-arrow group of companies involved in real estate and the import and export businesses. Tommy was the only officer listed on all the companies, either as president, chief executive officer or board chairman. Garret had the power of attorney to act on Tommy’s behalf. Taxes were always paid on time; accounting records were sterling. While some marginal Internet websites indicated that there may be some underhanded dealings from the company, nothing had been substantiated and fell more into the category of jealous rumors from competition rather than fact. The truth was, there was no way for anyone to find out the inner workings of Golden Asia because it was completely privately held. There was no fiduciary obligation to release hardly any information at all.
There was even less real info on Chin, but what little there was seemed to indicate that he was a ruthless gang leader. Again, nothing concrete, and furthermore, there was nothing linking Chin Chee Fok to Golden Asia. Noah had tried a variety of spellings, different order of words, but nothing that came close to Chin Chee Fok was remotely revealing. There was something disturbing, though. When Noah tried to follow up with the authors who published material on Chin, none could be contacted. Emails bounced back, phone numbers were disconnected and a number of the writers had vanished or died mysterious deaths.
There was, however, a ton of stuff about Tommy. About his extravagance, from the fifteen million dollar mansion to his extensive collection of rare whiskies to his legendary gambling habits of losing and winning several millions in a day to his womanizing of the most beautiful starlets in Asia. What was maddening, though, was that while there was considerable mention of his connection with Golden Asia, there was really nothing available that described what Golden Asia was involved in other than the mention of the import and export businesses and real estate ventures.
Furthermore, there was absolutely nothing about Tommy’s death, an astounding feat given that it happened in an open area with thousands of people in the vicinity. There was no video, no cell phone pictures, no mention at all of his demise. It was as if it never happened.
The tentacles of the public relations department at the Tiger Palace must reach into every part of public and private media in Hong Kong. Either that, or Chin’s staff was the most covert of covert operations, or Garret’s talents were wasted with Pittman Saunders and he should be made head of the CIA, Interpol and Mossad combined.
It was 9:30 p.m., and most of the lawyers were still there. Olivia was able to beg off but, because he was already treading on thin ice, Noah figured he should try to make a bigger dent into the seventy hours a week expected out of him.
However, with his concentration degrading, he decided he would do what he always used to do whenever he was losing focus—spend time having a seventy-two-year-old sifu kick the crap out of him.
He got tsk-tsk looks from the other eager beavers as he donned his jacket and left. He didn’t care. He knew his biorhythms and, at that point, he was pretty well useless. Anyway, there was always tomorrow.
Tie loosened, hair disheveled, stubble on his face... it had been a long day. Little did he know it was just beginning.
***
A sudden monsoon pelted Hong Kong just as Noah arrived at the bus stop. The relentless rain drenched the new lawyer, making him wish that parking here wasn’t just as expensive as it was in LA or New York. When a crowded public transportation vehicle arrived, he crammed in with other soaked commuters.
As he rode the bus with the other sardines, he looked and reflected on the people of Hong Kong. He loved it, and he loved the Chinese people. Part of it was in his genes. His great grandfather had been a miner who felt God calling him to China after hearing Billy Sunday preach in 1929, and his grandfather had been a medical missionary.
Although Noah had been born in Shanghai, he spent his formative years in Hong Kong. Like most kids of missionary teachers, money wasn’t an issue—there just wasn’t enough of it to have to worry about. Somehow, the family made it through every month, never missed a meal and was able to help anyone who was less fortunate than them. And that was a lot of people. At any given point, there were between five to fifteen guests staying in the Reid household for a night or two or seventeen years. That included Chad and Master Wu.
That was, until Noah was nineteen. Xenos, a young man with a serious drug habit, thought the Reids must have a stash of cash somewhere and ransacked their home. When he couldn’t find anything, he stabbed Noah’s parents to death and then committed suicide. When Noah made the gruesome discovery, Master Wu kept him from falling off the rails. Since then, Master Wu watched out for Noah, not only training him, but finding him a scholarship that allowed him to pursue his dream of being a lawyer.
Noah got off the bus in the grotty, familiar area. The driving pellets of water hadn’t let u
p much, and the sodden young man jogged through the narrow back alleys, passing seniors walking their pet birds in cages, vats of hot water in a temporary kitchen where a street vendor cooked noodles to order, a barber slathering shaving cream onto his customer in front of a smoke shop and two ladies haggling over the price of a live chicken, until he reached the familiar unmarked building that was Master Wu’s studio.
He entered the building, not noticing a black Mercedes shadowing him.
***
The foyer was empty. Noah put his briefcase down, took out a cloth bundle and removed his soaked clothes. The bundle contained Noah’s martial arts uniform, and he changed into it. Shaking his head and shedding his morose look, he sprinted into the main studio hall.
There, sparring with Master Wu, was about the last person he would have expected see―Pittman Saunders Senior Partner for the Asia Pacific Region, Garret Southam.
These are two experienced Shaolin masters, and neither was giving an inch.
Garrett emulated movements from the sun. Fiery masses of strength, breathtaking, powerful moves. Left, right, center. High, low, medium. Unpredictable hand and feet combinations, yet each handled expertly with razor-sharp reflexes. Crossing arms with double kick out.
Fire punched with hammer fists and sweeping leg motions. Straight, directed blows like solar rays characterized each element. Like the sun, the punches and strokes radiated energy and domination.
Each blow was masterfully parried with swift counterattacks, combinations of feet, hands and uppercuts. With a lightning series of palm thrusts to the head, hammer fists to the abdomen and a sweeping sideways kick coming from left, then right, Wu’s foot lands on the cheek of the unbalanced Garret, knocking the senior lawyer down.
Wu had just defeated a man twenty years younger and thirty pounds of pure muscle heavier. Wu pulled Garret up, and they made the Shaolin salute to each other—body upright, right hand clenched in a fist, left hand open and covering the right hand. The hands were placed in front of the chest and then a bow from the waist followed. While different schools had different practices, the meaning was essentially the same: a show of respect.
Garret turned to Noah. “Your turn?”
“Didn’t know you saw me here.”
“I see everything, Noah Reid.”
Trying the element of surprise, Noah leapt with a spinning move, his left foot aimed at Garret’s head.
Garret’s reflexes were fast and, with a quick forearm movement blow, he knocked aside Noah’s foot, sending him hopping to the side.
Undeterred, Noah asked, “Do I get fired when I kick your ass?”
“I fire people for kissing ass, not kicking ass,” snarled Garret.
Noah charged in full frontal attack like a bull. Left, right, feint, attack.
Garret fended off the combination as if swatting flies. He was angry. “You are so disappointing me, Reid. Let’s begin your education now.”
Garret advanced with a ferocious assault of the Ten Form Fist. Noah crouched into a deep, low Horse stance, raising his hands with the Tiger claw. The wary Garret attacked Noah with blazing speed with the traditional animals of the Shaolin Temple: the Dragon, Snake, Leopard, Tiger and Crane were all on display. Adding insult to injury, Garret quickly assumed the same Horse stance that Noah did. However, before Noah could react, Garret knocked him down with ease.
Master Wu screamed at Noah, “Harder!”
“He hasn’t got it in him,” sneered Garret,
Noah pants, “I... do... so...”
Garret launched an attack like a suicidal kamikaze pilot, throwing every micron of energy he had into every punch and kick. Noah was not intimidated and fought back. The rust disappeared, and Noah’s technique was superb—it was obvious that he was a good student of Master Wu. He matched Garret’s energy with his own focused attack.
It was a small act of war, with Hung Gar, Tiger and Crane style of Shaolin kung fu as the weapon. Each man was a master in his own right. It was a war of wills, war of strength, war of ability. Pinpoint attack at vital organs, pinpoint accuracy of defense from both experienced warrior and young Turk. When Garret as Tiger leapt to strike, Noah as Crane used his gentle, quick steps to keep his balance. With an intricate combination, Noah skillfully maneuvered in and was on the verge of conquest but, with the tremendous flair of a raging feline, Garret grabbed Noah in midair and slammed him to the ground.
Changing tactics, Garret changed to an older style of Hung Gar, a village, and jumped into a wider stance with lightning-fast footwork, momentarily confusing Noah. A quick sidekick sent his younger opponent to the floor. As Noah rose, an arcing leap kick to his chest sent him sprawling, and he landed defeated on the floor. Garret put his foot on Noah’s neck, one strong thrust away from snapping it and ending Noah’s life. “You are so disappointing, Noah Reid.”
Terror filled Noah’s eyes until Garret took his foot off his neck. Noah crawled to his knees. “Why do you care?”
Garret looked at Master Wu, then to the young lawyer. “Because, Noah, one day, you are going to be me. And the stakes that I play with are not just some shadowboxing in some safe studio like this. I play for keeps. And, when we play for keeps... more than just your ego gets broken.”
Master Wu glared at Garret, chastisement in his eyes. “You were young once, too, Garret. Have the same patience with Noah that I had for you.”
“To be patient, you need time, Sifu. We don’t have a lot of that,” replied Garret.
“But a river goes at the speed it goes, no matter how hard you try to force it to go faster.”
Garret took a breath. “That’s not good enough.”
“Can you please stop talking in riddles?” asked Noah.
Chapter 33
In the clearing of Chin’s man-made jungle, Stella stood outside a large circus-sized cage. No longer in business attire, she was dressed in a scanty crimson bikini. While her hands played with a sharp hunting knife, her eyes fixed on a tiger pacing angrily. It circled around its hoped-for victim: Chin. He was stripped to the waist and, dressed in loose-fitting martial arts pants, he was as fine and fit a human specimen as she had ever seen—and she had seen many.
Chin paid no attention to Stella as tiger and Tiger Master’s eyes bore into each other. Standing twenty feet away from the feline, Chin gradually tilted his head to the left, then right, staring hard at the tiger, almost as if trying to hypnotize it. Mesmerized, the tiger lost its impatience and sat down. It began to purr. Never for a moment letting his gaze leave the tiger, Chin gently made a few footfalls and then knelt on the floor, about a dozen feet away from the feline.
The tiger silently and calmly paced over to Chin. It licked his face over and over. With a hint of a smile, the man caressed the animal. This soothed the animal even more, and it allowed Chin to put one arm around its back, reaching toward its belly.
The tiger purred gently and looked away from Chin. Chin’s face turned to sadness as he began stroking the beast’s back with long, smooth, rhythmic strokes. The beast relaxed even more and dropped its entire body to the floor. The animal was still as Chin buried his face into its nape. The stroking continued as Chin lifted his face off the tiger’s body. His face was full of tears as the tiger breathed its calm, long, heavy, smooth breaths.
With a sudden movement, Chin grabbed the animal by the nape with one hand and with the other gave a lightning jerk that broke the tiger’s neck. Paralyzed, the tiger struggled to twitch but had lost its mobility. Stella entered the cage and handed the knife to Chin.
With one expert cut from the finely sharpened blade, Chin sliced the tiger’s throat. As the animal started to bleed, Chin put his mouth to the cut, drinking in as much of the tiger’s blood as he possibly could. As he was unable to catch it all, some of the red liquid spilled onto his face, arms and torso. Finally, the beast stopped moving, and a bloodied Chin stood up.
Stella sidled up to him. She took the hand that held the knife and brought it up to the bikini top. She flicked
Chin’s hand, and the knife cut the flimsy garment, revealing a special surprise. Not her perfectly formed, translucent-skinned breasts. Chin had seen thousands of those. What was special about Stella’s was that one of them was tattooed with a Bengal tiger, and the other had a Chinese red-crowned crane.
“Ready for dinner?”
She caressed Chin, licking the blood off his face, his arms, his torso... and more.
***
Garret, Noah and Master Wu sat at the sifu’s long wooden table, drinking tea. Garret showed Master Wu’s scrapbook to Noah. He turned to an action picture of Master Wu demonstrating a kick to his school of about thirty teenage boys. He reminisced. “When I was young, I wanted to be a Shaolin master, along with all my classmates. We lived and breathed Hung Gar Tiger and Crane martial arts. Master Wu was our sifu, and we would have gone to the ends of the earth for him. The temple and school grew, and it was famous.”
Master Wu shook his head. “But the prosperity was not real. There was no foundation. Everything was built on sand. Unknown to me, one of the monks borrowed money for expansion. Financial management was never my interest, and I was happy for someone else to do it.” He pointed to the monk in the photo. It was undeniably a young Chin Chee Fok, trademark attitude and arrogance already in evidence.
“That’s Chin Chee Fok, isn’t it?” asked Noah.
“Yes, it is,” said Master Wu. The aged sifu looked at Noah curiously. “How did you know?”
“We met.” Noah shrugged. “So what happened then?”
“I didn’t know what was going on but, one day, three of my students were found dead on my doorstep. I demanded to know from the others what had happened. Chin confessed that he had borrowed money from the gangs to finance the temple’s growth. That was totally against everything I taught. Chin argued with me that this was the way of the future. I told him, ‘If that is the way of the future, then I will live in the past.’ I gave up everything and was penniless.” Master Wu flipped the pages of the scrapbook, and there was a photo of a young couple.
The Noah Reid Series: Books 1-3: The Noah Reid Action Thriller Series Boxset Page 16
