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

by Wesley Robert Lowe

  It’s hard to imagine, but sexy stud Noah never had a serious girlfriend before Olivia. It got to the point where some of his law school classmates thought that he should come out of the closet and tried to set him up with some hot guys, but the truth was he hadn’t dated because he’d never met anyone who he felt had zing.

  That is, until he met Olivia. He was so inept with women that he tried to impress her with a line about his being a lawyer. When that didn’t work, he tried an equally lame line about being a martial artist. Strike two. Strike three was when he stuck his foot in his mouth trying to defend her honor as a secretary―when she was in fact a lawyer. Boy, was that a mistake. And yet, despite three strikes, Noah wasn’t out and Olivia had still played ball―there was something kind of special about this awkward junior lawyer. Noah was so unlike the other men who she met who just wanted to ‘meet for meat’ where she was the main item on the menu.

  Their relationship was amazing. Yes, there are―no there were―fantastic times of intimacy but more than that, Noah felt she was his soul mate. She understood Noah’s need to explore the Shaolin and they talked endlessly about how the foundation would change the world.

  One thing Noah realizes now though is that they hadn’t talked about what Olivia wanted out of life. Not that he would have avoided the topic but now he saw that Olivia hadn’t wanted to reveal her desire to be a professional, performing jazz pianist. That like almost every artist, Olivia has a huge insecurity about rejection.

  That’s why she went to law school, why she agreed to join her father’s firm, why she went full steam ahead with the Foundation. Being a lawyer meant she could hide her feelings, the fear of every artist that they aren’t good enough, that if they expose themselves, someone will loudly proclaim that they are a fraud.

  He should have figured it out sooner... but he hadn’t. His mind racing, Noah should be exhausted but he is anything but, with adrenaline pumping full bore throughout his veins. He wants to change the focus of his thoughts from Olivia back to himself.

  What do I really want?

  As he walks the streets of Hong Kong, the only city he has ever really known as home, he is struck by the insight that he loves Asia and he loves the Chinese people. The years he spent in Los Angeles proved that to him. At first when he went there, he would hang out in Orange County, on Western Avenue, or Monterey Park when he had time, because that’s where the Asians are. But after a few months, he knew it wouldn’t work for him. It wasn’t that being Asian in LA was bad. There are millions of them there, but it’s not the same. All you had to do was drive ten minutes and you were back in America. For Noah, this just wasn’t good enough.

  His thinking then turned to Master Wu and martial arts. The elderly sifu is not prejudiced but he was very clear when instructing Noah that all regions of martial arts were related but ultimately, all were unique. Tae Kwan Doe and Hapkido are Korean; Judo, Karate and Sumo are Japanese; Muay Thai is from Thailand and so on. For Master Wu, Shaolin was always and only Chinese, especially his particular specialty, Hung Gar, Tiger and Crane. Noah smiles, when he thinks of what Master Wu would say if he saw the American crazed desire for mixed martial arts.

  Noah could no more go without doing martial arts than he could do without breathing. He began every day, rain or shine, sickness or health with half an hour of martial arts exercises just the way Olivia spent half an hour playing the piano. For both, this was their way of keeping sane in an often insane world. Half an hour’s not much, but it’s enough to keep your chops intact.

  He checks himself. No point in thinking about her anymore.

  And what about himself? What does Noah Reid want and where does he stand? And that’s Noah’s problem―he doesn’t know. Yes, he’s a Christian but he doesn’t want to be a missionary like his parents. Yes, he’s a martial artist―and a damn good one at that―but he has no desire to be a Sifu, a master, or a Sigong, master of masters. If he’s honest with himself, he longs for the day when he doesn’t have to run the Chad Huang Foundation. Yes, he’s doing so because it’s the right thing to do and he wants to honor the memory of his best friend, but there is something unfulfilled. There’s a void in his life.

  One thought haunts him.

  Instead of transforming illegal blood money into legitimate enterprises, I am transforming it into charitable organizations. It’s still built on the backs of poor victims around the world, no matter how much good I’m doing.

  He takes a breath as his destination comes in sight. He hasn’t had a chance to think for himself in three months and this last hour of random introspection hasn’t given him any idea what to do next. Thank God for Master Wu.

  ***

  Noah’s sixth sense begins to twitch as he approaches the door to the master’s studio. There are no discernible signs, but he can’t shake the feeling that there is a pervasive negative aura. His suspicion is confirmed when he enters the building. An unconscious Master Wu lies crumpled on the floor in a semi-fetus position. There is a slight foam edge on his lips and dried blood just underneath his nostrils.

  His brain catches fire as he dashes to his unconscious mentor and kneels. “Sifu, Sifu!” He touches the master’s neck checking for a pulse. He doesn’t know whether the faint beating is imaginary or something he wants to exist.

  With no response, Noah rockets to the washroom, grabs a glass of water and dashes back. He gently forces some water down Master Wu’s throat and dabs some over his face.

  Still no answer.

  Noah’s eyes narrow as he sees a discolored area on Master Wu’s leg with two tiny sets of bite marks. Are those insect bites? Snakes? Here?

  With hope seeming to have abandoned them, Noah closes his eyes and steeples his hands but before he can utter a word, the master coughs and his eyes open.

  “Noah? What happened? Why am I like this?”

  Noah exhales in momentary exhilaration and gratitude. What was lost is found. What was dead now lives.

  “Check this out.” Noah shows the groggy master the tiny pair of bite marks on his leg. Master Wu sits and blinks hard, trying to shake the dizziness. “Those look like teeth marks from either one bigass centipede or some tubular reptile from somewhere.”

  There is a sense of fear, of despair in Master Wu’s voice. Something Noah has never heard before. “I lost judgment. There was a blind bleeding monk who came in and told me that my sins would not be forgiven. Then suddenly, I was in pain and blacked out.”

  There’s panic in Master Wu’s eyes.

  “I must go to Heaven, Noah.”

  Suddenly, understanding comes over Noah. Primal guilt and fatigue. While Noah has seen very little of his Sifu because of his recent travel schedule, Noah has noted his deterioration during the brief visits he’s made.

  “Chin is not your responsibility to carry, Sifu.”

  “A father is responsible for the sins of his children. A master is responsible for his disciples... I must go to Heaven.”

  Heaven. Not the heaven that Noah knows but Heaven, the name of the monastery where Master Wu is from, where the earth touches the sky, high on a mountain. Noah had thought it was just a legend because no one else had ever mentioned it and there was nothing on the Internet nor in any martial arts publications.

  “Why, Master Wu?”

  “I need to be forgiven for my sins. My soul can never have peace otherwise.”

  Absolution of one’s crimes. It appears in many religions, many cultures. Judaism. Catholicism. Islam. Buddhism.

  “How are we going to get there?”

  “We? You’re joining me?” asks Master Wu.

  “Do you need to ask? Give me three days to arrange things and I’m good to go.”

  “Three days is too long. I want to go in three hours... I have little time, Noah.”

  You’ve got to be kidding. “Of course, Sifu.”

  Noah lends a hand to his Sifu and speaks gently, “Sifu, stand up.”

  Master Wu trembles as he grabs Noah’s hand. Noah tries to
pull him to his feet but Master Wu’s limbs refuse to cooperate. Noah lets him back down.

  “We’ve got to get you to a doctor.”

  Master Wu nods. “We must go to Dr. Tang.”

  “Of course.” Dr. Tang is a Doctor of Traditional Chinese Medicine who has been treating Master Wu since Wu came to Hong Kong over thirty years ago.

  Noah takes out his cell phone and punches in a number. “Hello, Dr. Tang. It’s Noah Reid here. Can I bring Master Wu to see you now?... He’s been bitten by something and paralysis has set in... We’ll be right over. Thank you.”

  The dwarf adder that the blind monk could not find suddenly re-appears. It slithers quickly behind Noah.

  Master Wu shouts, “Behind you, Noah!”

  Noah turns to see the serpent opening its jaws to strike, Noah angrily grabs its head and squeezes the life out of the wriggling reptile.

  Master Wu gazes on silently.

  “You didn’t have to kill it, Noah.”

  “This way the solution is permanent. No one will ever have to worry about this one again.”

  He really has changed. The old Noah would never have done that.

  ***

  It’s three blocks to Dr. Tang’s office, too close for any cab to want to grab a fare, especially in this area, so Noah carries Master Wu in his arms like a mother carrying a baby. It’s an amusing sight for the residents, as they watch him stroll through the old Chinese neighborhood.

  “And now you have to tell me what is troubling you,” says Master Wu. All fear and confusion is gone from his voice. The Sifu is completely clear-headed now.

  “There’s nothing wrong with me.”

  “Noah, you have just been out of Hong Kong for three weeks. You should be with Olivia and you’re not. Are you trying to tell me everything is all right? I also noticed that your hands are full of nicks and scrapes. Are you trying to tell me you got those by discussing basketball gymnasiums in Shandong or Chicago?”

  Doesn’t this guy ever miss anything? “Olivia broke up with me. That’s the reason I came here.”

  “You’re asking a celibate for advice on relationships?”

  “I’m asking if I should chase after her and beg her to stay, marry me and make ourselves a bunch of babies.”

  “Did she give you a reason?”

  “She wants to join Abby in New York. Says she wants to be a pianist, not a paper pusher.”

  “Did you know that Garret fought with her for years about the same thing? If you try to contain an eagle, the eagle will listen for a little while, but eventually it will want to take flight again.”

  “I was afraid you would say that.”

  “And how about your injuries?”

  “My limo was ambushed on my way back from the airport. I rolled down a hill to escape. That’s where I got the scratches.”

  “An attack on you and an attack on me. Does that sound familiar?”

  Unfortunately, it does.

  When Chin was trying to get his money back from Garret, the only reason that he and Olivia had been allowed to remain alive was because Chin had no idea where the money was. They knew that if he killed them, he never would find out. He’d taken them to within an inch of their lives, trying to force it out of them. It hadn’t worked.

  “But Chin is dead and none of his cronies are smart or capable enough to try and take over his empire.”

  “Noah, did you see Chin’s body?”

  This is something that has troubled Noah. While there’d been no bodies, they had found teeth. Dental records showed they belonged to Garret... but Chin? “Nothing could have survived that inferno, Sifu. It defies logic.”

  “Life has always defied logic but yes, Chin is likely gone. However, the Tiger fostered baby Tigers who are smarter, stronger and more ruthless.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Garret told me. Who do you think was responsible for making sure that their upbringing and livelihoods were taken care of?”

  Noah weighs the situation. “Master Wu, we’ve got to get out of here.”

  “Yes, Noah, but don’t think that just because we hide, we can’t be found. The tentacles of evil cast very wide.”

  Baby Tigers...?

  Chapter Nine

  Twenty-three Years Ago

  “I hate dressing up,” protests a petulant five-year-old boy as his Japanese mother carefully ties his bow tie, putting on the final touches of dressing him in a new black suit. His tone toward his mother displays that he is used to getting whatever he wants from her and he couldn’t care less what she thinks.

  “You are going to meet your father today so you have to look good,” says the twenty-three-going-on-fifty-year-old mother. Her mild tone cannot mask the fear in her voice. Once upon a time, Satumi was a beautiful strong healthy young girl, a bronze medalist in the Asian Games for judo. She met her husband at a celebration party and she made love to him three hours later for the first time 5,000 feet in the air on a private helicopter.

  Sexually she was not sophisticated and what seventeen-year-old has the intelligence to carry on a conversation beyond the latest cell phone or pop singer’s new hairstyle? She was, however, perfect for what the man needed her for―to bear him a male child. Once that mission was accomplished, he had little use or appetite for her. Her main function now and since his birth is to be the mother of the little boy. She dare not leave her husband. She has heard what happens to those who cross him. It’s not death she fears―it’s sexual slavery with strangers speaking unknown languages in an unknown world.

  Observing her now, she seems beaten in body and spirit from two abusers: an absent husband and a son whose every whim must be catered to.

  “And remember to speak Chinese to him,” she pleads.

  “I am Japanese. I do not have to speak Chinese.”

  “Your father will not like you talking like that.”

  “I have no father,” announces the child.

  “You’re right,” says a voice at the door.

  Mother and son quickly turn to see a man at the door―thirty years old, dressed in a black satin Shaolin uniform, with an aura that simultaneously exudes cruelty, strength and terror.

  “No one needs a father who just goes to work at a job he doesn’t like, watches soccer on television all the time and tries to teach his child to read.”

  “Are you the emperor?” gapes the child.

  “I am more than an emperor. And you will be too.”

  The man examines the designer bedroom, perfectly made for a spoiled rich brat. He told the mother to spare no expense. At least she was able to do that right. It’s the first time he’s been in here. He notes the luxury lavished on this little boy. The suit is tailor-made, he has a blazing fast computer with a sixty-inch screen, his phone is Apple’s latest and the bed sheets are all made from one-thousand-thread-count Egyptian cotton. There is a custom-made desk chair with Mickey Mouse carved into it.

  “Better than the emperor? Like a magician?”

  The man suddenly picks up the Disney chair and breaks it like a matchstick over his knee. With a single punch at the painting of Buzz Lightyear on the wall, he makes a hole a foot wide to the other side. With lightning speed, he races to the child. With a single hand, he lifts the boy over his head and with perfect accuracy, throws him twenty feet onto the middle of the king-sized bed.

  “Better than a magician. A Shaolin master.”

  The man then walks up to the astounded child, whose head tilts up to the man.

  “No one wants a weakling for a father. Everyone needs a father who is a man. Do you agree?”

  The boy rapidly nods his head in agreement.

  The man takes out a small box from a fold in his flowing garb. He opens it. Inside are three dwarf adders.

  The boy’s eyes flash in fear and amazement.

  “If you want to be a man, you must not only control your fear, you must embrace it and use it.”

  The boy again nods furiously. He reaches out to touch
one of the snakes. The viper opens its jaws and is about to bite the boy when the man grabs the snake by its tail and flings it at the young mother. The snake bites her and the venom begins to act almost immediately.

  The boy and man watch in cruel satisfaction as the woman spasms in front of them.

  “Save me! Save me, please!” she cries.

  Neither man nor boy lifts a finger as the woman convulses violently. After thirty seconds, her body stills.

  “Don’t worry, she will live, but there is a lesson for you. If you do not exercise the proper caution, that will happen to you too. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “And another thing”

  “Yes, Sir?”

  “Never trust anyone.”

  The man takes the box and carefully picks up one of the remaining snakes by its head and then squeezes until the eyes pop out of the snake’s head.

  He hands the box to the boy. Imitating the man exactly, the boy too grabs the snake by its head and applies pressure. For a child so young, he is extraordinarily strong. He’s definitely got the man’s genes. Not only do the eyes pop out of its sockets, there is the sickening crunch of the bones as the snake’s head is crushed.

  The man nods his head in approval.

  “This is your first lesson in being a man, King.”

  “Yes, Father,” says the five-year-old boy in perfect Mandarin.

  ***

  Fourteen Years Ago

  It’s a father and teenage son trip to the Amazon rainforest. For three days, they have been trekking from swamp to swamp, searching for special prey. So far, they’ve seen brilliantly colored parrots, blue and gold macaws, small yellow squirrel monkeys, golden howler monkeys and half a dozen corpulent Amazonian Tapirs with their stumpy tails―but not the elusive prey they seek.