The Merlin Chronicles: Box Set (All Three Novels)

by Daniel Diehl

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Three days before Jason and Merlin encountered Ling Chu, the guards on the fortress parapets watched the lights of a car approach across the dark landscape and waited to see which direction it was heading. When it angled away from the main road and headed toward the compound, the still night air was broken by the sharp, metallic clatter of a dozen Kalashnikov bolts being cocked simultaneously. The guards raised their weapons to chest height and waited in silence. Three minutes passed, then two more, and finally the lights blinked once, paused and blinked twice more. The guards lowered their weapons, one of them calling to a man on the ground, ordering him to open the gate. When the Land Rover pulled to a halt in the open space between the outer wall and the cluster of buildings, one of the men rushed to open the driver’s door. Morgana le Fay stormed toward the main building where guards stood on either side of the door.

  “Where’s Chen?”

  “On his way, Madame. Your arrival has just been announced to him.”

  Glancing at her watch she pushed past them and walked through the bleak, sparsely furnished guardroom toward a door in the far wall. “Tell him I want to see him immediately.” Taking hold of the doorknob, she added, “And tell him to bring Ling Chu with him.”

  The guard was about to acknowledge her order, but his words were cut off when the door slammed, isolating Morgana from the sound of his voice. She moved quickly down a corridor, passing through three more doors, up a short flight of steps and down another corridor before reaching the section of the fortress set aside for her private, if infrequent, use.

  If the penthouse above the Excalibur Holding Company was lavish in the most modern and impersonal style, her quarters in this crumbling, nameless fort were no less elaborate, but their style was entirely different. The walls were covered with exquisitely painted 17th and 18th century Chinese silk hangings. On low, oriental tables stood vases from the Ming and Tsung dynasties and in an alcove stood a life-sized terra cotta soldier from the tomb of China’s first emperor, one of thousands of similar figures, but the only one in private hands. Morgana took it all in appreciatively, thinking it had been too long since she had been here and that there was something about oriental splendor which appealed to her sensibilities. Removing her heavy coat, she entered the room that served as both bedroom and office. To some this may have seemed an odd combination of uses for one room, but to Morgana le Fay it imparted the feeling of renaissance kings who often conducted business from their beds. The bed was nearly a room in itself, entirely enclosed by heavily carved screens decorated with dragons, celestial bodies and allegorical figures.

  Morgana took a seat at her desk. A moment later the telephone buzzed softly. Without offering a greeting she picked up the receiver and snapped, “Come in Chen.”

  The man who opened the door had the movements and appearance of a predator; a large, brutal looking body surmounted by a head constantly in motion as though searching for some invisible enemy. An angry scar running from his hairline to the corner of his nose made his left eye look like it was closed in a knowing wink designed to share some awful secret. He was unarmed and approached Morgana with a cautious gate betraying both respect and fear. “Yes, Missus?” As he entered the room he glanced back at the figure waiting in the hall.

  “You’re as attractive as ever, Chen. How long has it been? Four years? Five?”

  “Nearly six years now, Missus.”

  “I’m going to be here for a while, I don’t know how long, but I want your men to be on their toes. We may have some uninvited guests and I don’t want them to feel neglected when they show up. Do you understand?”

  Chen straightened almost imperceptibly. “Yes, Missus. No one ever comes in without your express permission.”

  “Good. See that it remains that way. Now...” She glanced at the clock on her desk before continuing. “...it’s nearly three a.m. and I will be going to bed shortly. Tomorrow I want you to take me on a tour of the new facilities, so be here when I call you.”

  “Yes, Missus.” Chen nodded.

  “You can go now and show Ling Chu in on your way out.”

  Silently, Chen turned toward the door, motioning the figure in the hallway to enter. The man who took Chen’s place before Morgana’s desk was old and wizened and dressed in clothes centuries out of fashion. His eyes were small, dark and hard as stones; when he bowed and smiled his grin looked like a rattrap ready to snap.

  “The insidious Dr Fu Ling Chu, my, my, my. Still as nasty looking a piece of work as ever, I see.”

  “One but tries, Mistress le Fay.”

  “Don’t let the rest of the men hear you address me by that name. Remember, I’m Mrs. Morgan.”

  “Ling Chu humbly apologizes and will not repeat the error.”

  “I have a small mission that requires your very special touch.”

  The rattrap grin widened and the tiny, evil eyes glinted in the subdued light. “I am always glad to be of service to an old and honored friend such as yourself.”

  “Of course you are. The people I have in mind are an old man and his young companion; westerners. The man has a long white beard and his friend has long yellow hair. They are probably already on their way. I left a trail even a blind man could follow, so unless they’re even stupider than I think, they should be along in a day or so. I want you to meet them before they get here and deal with them appropriately.”

  Ling Chu bowed deeply. “You wish them driven away in great pain and fear?”

  “No, I wish them in great pain and fear but I want them brought here. I have my own plans for their unfortunate demise.”

  “How long may I allow them to suffer before you enfold them in the arms of eternal sleep?” Morgana could hear the old sorcerer’s excited breathing.

  “My God, you are a bloody minded creature, Fu.” She settled back in her chair with a smirk. “I knew there was a reason I’ve put up with you all these centuries. Play with them all you like, I just want them delivered here in one piece. Do you understand me?”

  “Ling Chu understands excellently.”

  “Good. I knew I could count on you. Now, have one of the guards show you to your quarters. I want you fresh as a daisy tomorrow and you’re not getting any younger.” Ling Chu nodded and bowed, wondering just how many centuries older than himself the woman in front of him might be. As he turned to leave, Morgana called him back.

  “I want you to be on your way early in the morning to meet our friends...just in case they arrive earlier than expected.”

  “I hear and obey.” Fu Ling Chu offered his feral grin, bowed and backed silently out of the room.

  Alone in the room, Morgana sat drumming her fingers on the desk. So close. After all these centuries she was so close. Once Merlin was dead, she would be able to claim mastery over as much of the earth as the dragons were willing to leave intact. It might be a devastated, scorched place; but that was always the way of war and this war was far too large for her to fight on her own. She rubbed her hands together as though washing away the built-up grime left by centuries of wallowing in the dirt of humanity. So close. So close.

  * * * *

  Morgana followed Chen across the courtyard between the main building and a large barn-like structure some distance to the east. The windows were bricked up and the only two doors were surrounded by heavily armed men in paramilitary uniforms. As they approached the entry, one of the Triads hauled back a massive bolt and swung open the heavy steel door. Once inside, the door was pushed shut and the bolt reengaged with a heavy chunk. The room was large, the walls and floor lined with metal shelves, each set of shelves stacked head high with packages the size of a loaf of bread.

  “Is this all from Afghanistan?”

  “Yes, Missus. Nearly all of our supply now comes from there. That is how you have instructed us, is it not?”

  “You know it is.”

  “Are you not pleased? Are my reports inadequate?”

  Turning to Chen, Morgana stared at him
narrow-eyed for a moment before answering. “Chen, your reports are fine...as is the money. I am not displeased, that’s why you’re still alive. I just want to hear a report in your own words. You know, the personal touch. Now take your tail out from between your legs and talk to me like a man. Fair enough?”

  Chen’s relief would have been obvious even to the most casual observer. “Yes. More than fair, Missus.”

  “Good. Carry on.”

  “As you ordered, we have purchased almost nothing from either Turkey or China since the American’s invaded Afghanistan in 2001. As a result of American policies, Afghani opium production has increased by more than four hundred percent and due to this foolish over production, the wholesale price has dropped nearly forty percent.”

  “And the market price?”

  “Over the past three years the street price of heroin has increased by approximately ten percent, but of course that varies from place to place and time to time.”

  “Then, by and large, over the past four years we have nearly doubled our profit margin?”

  “On average, yes.”

  “Wonderful. This is such a good war.” Waving an arm around the room she added a sentimental afterthought. “I like the Pentagon, so malleable, so pliable, so greedy, so downright bloody stupid. Everyone needs friends, Chen, and whether or not they realize it, America is a good friend. Now, open one of these up and let me look at the raw material.”

  Chen grabbed a package at random and cut into it with a small folding knife. It contained a sticky, yellow-brown powder, a miniscule amount of which he picked up on the end of the knife and held out toward his mistress. She lightly wiped it from the knife between her thumb and forefinger, rolling it around and tasting it.

  “Not bad. How does it refine?”

  “It is among the best quality opium I have ever encountered. If you would like to follow me, we will go to the new processing room.”

  At the far end of the materials room, Chen and Morgana donned white paper suits over their clothes, put paper boots over their shoes and matching caps on their heads. Before they went through the small door at the far end of the changing room, Chen handed her a respirator. “You must wear this to keep from inhaling any of the processed drug that might be floating in the air.”

  Inside the long, sterile room dozens of men and women sat at tables carrying out the refinement process that would change the opium poppy sap into deadly, high-grade heroine. Each of the workers were dressed in white coveralls identical to those worn by Morgana and Chen, making them seem like ghosts, white and pale under the harsh florescent lights.

  “How do you stop the workers from stealing any of the raw material?”

  “Unlike us, Missus, they do not wear any clothing beneath their clean-suits. They must undress upon arrival and are subjected to a body search before being allowed to put their clothing back on.”

  “So there has never been any problem, then?” She sounded skeptical.

  “In the beginning, but no longer.”

  “Because?”

  Because, Missus, the first few to steal your property were shot in front of the others. It was a way of setting an example. Do you think this was too harsh?”

  “Not at all.”

  “I am pleased you approve of our worker-management policy.” No one could see it behind his respirator, but for the first time Chen nearly allowed himself a minute, self-satisfied grin.

  “If they want collective bargaining, they can go to Europe. How many of them are addicted?”

  “No more than half. The temptation seems to be great, and the danger of working around the material and inhaling it in tiny amounts is very real, but compared to other such facilities world-wide, our addiction rate is quite low.”

  “Good. I don’t like the thought of their personal problems eating into my profit.”

  “Oh, no, Missus. We take measures to guarantee that can never happen. When they become addicted, we do, of course sell them adequate quantities to meet their needs, and they pay less than the street price, but it is still far more than the wholesale price.”

  Having reached the far end of the processing room, Morgana and Chen were met by two more armed guards who unlocked the door, allowing them to pass into another storeroom piled high with processed heroin. From there, they made their way toward a small changing room which, in turn, led past yet another guard post and into the fresh, cold air of the compound. Here, a guard carrying Morgana’s coat greeted them silently.

  “I see a few new faces among your men since the last time I was here.”

  “Yes. Sadly things happen. Trouble on the road, trouble with suppliers, trouble with the border guards...”

  “The border guards never come here, do they?” She snapped, whirling around in a challenge.

  Chen’s hands flew up, waving wildly. “Oh, no. Never. Both the Chinese and Mongolian soldiers know they are never to come here. Their orders in that regard come from the highest offices.”

  Morgana relaxed. “Good. Very good. I feel rather pleased, all in all. You must join me for dinner this evening, Chen.”

  “I am greatly honored, Missus. You are too generous.”

  “Yes, you’re right, I probably am. Make it lunch.”

  Chen tipped his head forward in a minute bow, pretending not to have noticed the pointed insult to his hard work, years of loyalty and personal dignity. Had such a slight been offered to a captain of the Triads by anyone else, he would have killed them instantly, but his employer frightened him very, very deeply.

  It was early evening on the second day after Morgana’s arrival that Ling Chu returned to the gate. The guard telephoned Chen, who relayed the message to Morgana. She told him to escort the old man to her office personally. Obediently, Chen escorted the old conjurer before retiring to his tiny office. In truth, he was more than glad not to be in the same room with Fu Ling Chu.

  Morgana smiled expectantly as she walked across the room toward the stooped figure of Ling Chu. “Are they here?”

  “I fear not yet, but it is only a matter of time.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  Gesturing toward an elaborately carved chair, Ling Chu stared questioningly at his employer.

  “Yes, yes, sit down and tell me everything.”

  “I found them traveling along the border road just as you assured me they would be...”

  “Well, at least you got that right. Then what?”

  “It was late in the afternoon when I saw them. I sent one of my familiar demons, one of the Four Storms, to deal with them. You are acquainted with my Storms?”

  “Yes, yes. The elemental creatures, Earth, Air, Water and Fire. Which one did you send?”

  “As they were in the desert, I selected the Storm of Air, thinking he could cause the most damage with the material at hand. I caused him to create a great windstorm to raise up walls of sand.” He looked up, shooting a quick, surreptitious glance toward Morgana and raising the palms of his hands toward the ceiling with a shrug. “Their car went off the road and was engulfed in the sand. I feared they might suffocate or freeze to death but…”

  Morgana cocked her head on one side, trying to control a rising anger. “By God, Fu, you didn’t kill them did you?”

  “Have no fear madam,” the wizard fluttered a skeletal hand in the air. “They were rescued by the barbaric Mongols.”

  “All right. So what happened then? Did they break any bones? How much pain were they in? I hope you haven’t ruined that pretty boy’s face…yet.”

  Passing a hand across his throat as though checking to make sure his head was still attached, Ling Chu continued his story. “I knew you did not desire their escape, so when they left the Mongol camp late this morning, I met them along the road and offered my humble assistance by providing them with directions.”

  “Directions? Directions to where?”

  The rattrap mouth broke into a hesitant smile. “To here. Where else would you wish them to go?” />
  Morgana le Fay suddenly threw back her head and laughed at the irony of the situation. Ling Chu had been an ally for nearly five centuries and never had she been more pleased with him.

  “Was this not appropriate, considering the circumstances?”

  “Yes. Yes it was. We may both have some fun over the next few days, so I don’t want you leaving here.”

  “It is my humble honor to serve so great a lady.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “There, over there.” Jason’s eyes followed Merlin’s finger toward the eastern skyline. It was just after three in the afternoon and the sun was already starting its descent toward the western horizon.

  “Yep, you’re right. What do I do now?”

  “Keep driving. Don’t slow down, she undoubtedly has guards watching the road.”

  “How about if I go down the road a mile or so, park the car and we hike back to take a better look?”

  “Very good, Jason. That’s exactly what Arthur would have done; remain out of sight and reconnoiter the enemy camp.”

  Parking the Land Rover behind a large rise, they trudged over the rocky desert to a position offering an unobstructed view of the fortress. Behind them, the red orb teetered on the horizon, its pink after-glow casting elongated shadows over the landscape. Nearing the fortress, they crept behind a low, grass-covered rise from which they had a clear view of Morgana’s headquarters. The compound was massive. Covering eight or ten acres, it was surrounded by crenellated walls twelve or more feet in height.

  In the pale, ruddy light the fortress sat implacably against the distant horizon, its looming shape darkening from dirty orange to a muddy taupe. It looked brooding and evil like some massive, predatory creature waiting for its prey. As the sun died, the bitter wind picked up and below his down-filled jacket, the frigid air bit into Jason’s rump and calves like tiny, metallic teeth. He rubbed the inside of his legs together trying to keep warm, but it was no use.

  From their vantage point, Jason and Merlin caught an occasional glimpse of movement in the gaps along the top of the fortress walls as the guards made their rounds. Occasionally, a glint of dying sunlight reflected off the barrel of a gun.