However, this was Chin’s goal. As the tongue flickers out at him, with surgical precision, Chin takes two Shaolin darts and jams them through the beast’s slimy organ.
Stunned by this assault, the one-eyed giant lizard chomps away but cannot rid itself of the pointed missiles.
Prez’s unconscious spell is brief, and she awakens to see her father go at the dragon with full force and blinding ferocity.
Chin’s blistering attack is relentless as he lunges at the beast’s front feet. The Komodo is completely unprepared, and Chin quickly grabs the front legs. He lifts them up and hurls the animal high up into the air.
A passing water buffalo is normally prey for the Komodo. This time, however, the buffalo is the victor—the herbivore’s horns spear the dragon.
Chin adds further force by leaping on top of the Komodo, and the sharp buffalo’s horns pierce right through the Komodo’s body.
In its death spasms, Chin pulls the dragon off the water buffalo’s horns and throws it in Prez’s direction.
The now-dead dragon lands six inches in front of her.
Chin strides up to his daughter.
“I could see it in your eyes, and I will tell you this once. Never doubt the power of your father. You almost got yourself killed.”
Prez says sheepishly, “I’m sorry.”
Chin is incapable of love, but Prez’s trying to save him affected him—no one had ever cared that much to do that for him. It would be an exaggeration to call it a bond, but there is the hint of positive feelings.
They foraged the island for another two hours and found twenty Komodo eggs.
“What am I going to do with these?” asks Prez.
“Most of them will die, but a few will live. You are a dragon. Become one with them.”
Chapter 3
Saturday Morning—New York
It’s the third time in two weeks that twenty-eight-year-old Noah Reid, president of the Chad Huang Foundation, has been in this little Presbyterian Church in New York’s Chinatown. On each of the previous occasions, he was with his good buddy and foundation board member, martial arts master JJ Wang.
The first time he came, Noah accompanied JJ here because the martial artist wanted to find out more about Christianity. JJ’s Shaolin background gave him a strong Buddhist faith, but he was in love with a woman who wanted to get married in a church. JJ went with Noah to see what there was in Christianity that Abby Sung—the best friend of Noah’s girlfriend, Olivia Southam—found so attractive. That visit was a disaster. Rather than reflecting on God, it brought out in JJ all the pent-up animosity that generations of Chinese held against Caucasians. Signs on Shanghai restaurants like No dogs or Chinese allowed or Nobel literature prizes awarded to writers like Rudyard Kipling who wrote of controlling the heathens as the “white man’s burden” are hard to forget.
The second time attending the church was even worse than the first. Noah attended the dual funerals of Abby Sung and JJ, who were collateral damage in saving young Russian and Chinese girls from lives of sexual slavery.
This third time, the occasion on this Saturday morning, is much happier. Noah is getting married to Olivia. In the less than six months that they have known each other, they have lived through more than most couples experience in a hundred lifetimes.
Olivia is stunning in the wedding gown that was tailor made in a record-breaking three days. Drop-dead gorgeous to start with, her gown with real pearls, white sequins and lace train is tailored to accentuate her elegant movie star figure.
Noah looks the perfect mate for this perfect woman. His black tux can’t hide his athletic build and that someday he would be a candidate to replace Sean Connery as the consummate James Bond.
Fourteen-year-old Sam Xi, a boy that Noah helped deliver from a life of crime in Hong Kong, is Noah’s best man, and seventeen-year-old Tanya, one of the Russian girls extricated from the Russian mob’s clutches, is Olivia’s maid of honor.
The elderly Dr. Moses Tang officiates the wedding ceremony. Dr. Tang, whose principal job is as a doctor of Traditional Chinese Medicine, is licensed to conduct weddings in New York. This unusual second job originates from the needs of his patients. Most of them are mainland Chinese, many who have come to America illegally. When they fall in love, they want to get married but are afraid to register their marriages with any government office, for fear of being caught and deported.
“By the power vested in me by the city of New York and of God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”
For the next thirty seconds, there are sounds of celebration like this little Chinatown church has never heard. Most of the noise comes from about twenty teenagers, all who owe their freedom to Noah, Olivia, JJ, and Abby. The only one who is born and bred in America is Sam’s New York buddy, Walrus.
Forget the recessional. The party’s happening now, and Sam turns to the newlyweds.
“Hey, Olivia. I told you, you shoulda waited for me, but I guess Noah’s an okay second choice.”
Tanya hugs Olivia with tears in her eyes. Almost all of the thousands of men this young girl had known were interested in her for one thing. Seeing Olivia and Noah this happy allows the poor child to hope for a moment.
“Someday, Tanya, you will meet your own Noah.”
“Thank you, Olivia.”
“Where will you go for your honeymoon, Olivia?” Tanya’s little sister, Larissa, shy asks.
“We’re gonna to on a ‘roots’ journey. We’ve known each other for less than six months, and I got to know what makes this man tick. See the crazy things he did when he was a kid.”
“And I want to see Olivia’s background. Czech Republic to see where her grandfather came from. Finally, we’ll go to London. Breathe the air; see the sights where her dad grew up.”
Larissa breaks into tears.
“What’s wrong, honey?” asks Olivia, stooping down.
“I don’t even know who my parents are.”
A reminder that there are millions of orphans in a world ravaged by sickness, war and greed. While she may not know her heritage, Larissa is one of the lucky ones.
***
Noah is still in his tux, and Olivia is still in her wedding gown, but the Chad Huang Foundation needs to have a quick board meeting before the newlyweds take off. As Noah’s parents were missionary teachers, perhaps it’s fitting that this meeting is in one of the Sunday school rooms at the back of the church.
With JJ and Abby now deceased, they have to quickly recruit a couple of new board members. One of them is Dr. Zachariah Tang, the forty-year-old son of the Dr. Tang who officiated Olivia and Noah’s wedding. The other new board member is young Sam. Despite his youth, Sam has been part of Noah’s journey with the foundation from before its inception. In fact, it was formed to service kids like Sam used to be—young people on the edge or already into a lifestyle that will only lead to early destruction. Sam was earlier a “junior adviser” to the board, but Noah wants to put into action what he preaches—give responsibility to those who have earned it, no matter their age or background. In Noah’s and Olivia’s eyes, Sam’s earned the right to be a full-on board member, so there he sits with people two and three times his age.
“We are down to less than three hundred million now,” starts Noah.
“You are some kind of wonder, Noah,” quips Sam. “Didn’t we have three billion just a week ago?”
“Yeah, but all the deals and people we’ve been working on have had their conditions lifted, so we have been releasing money.”
“You mean you’ve managed to give away two and a half billion dollars?” says the amazed Zach.
Noah shakes his head. “It was never my money to give or to keep. Chin took it off the backs of the people, and I just tried to give it back.”
Noah turns to Zach. “Really appreciate you taking a leave from the hospital to do this, Zach.”
The ER physician chuckles. “Substitute one kin
d of insanity for another. Makes life interesting.”
“We’ll be back in ten days.”
“Are you absolutely nuts, Noah? Take a month, two months, off.”
“Don’t want to,” says the new Mrs. Noah Reid. “We want to get the money ASAP into the hands of people who need it. Then we’ll move on.”
“And do what?” asks Sam.
“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll ask you for a job.” Noah grins. “All I know is that after a week, I knew I didn’t want to be a lawyer anymore, and after the last few months, I don’t want to run any kind of foundation anymore.”
“That’s why we’ve been scrutinizing and vetting all the organizations we gave money to. We’ve got to know if they really needed our oversight or not,” says Olivia.
“They don’t, but even if they need someone, it’s better that they put their own people in place or make a few mistakes to learn. We’re not micromanagers.”
“Hey, the Sam Xi charity could do with some money.”
“Sam, werenweren’t’t you the first one on the gravy train?”
All laugh, then Noah asks Sam seriously, “Did you get everything sorted out?”
“Of course. I am the man. Got a student visa here in record time. Told Mom not to expect me back for at least a year. I’ll be going to school with Walrus, and we are going to make some serious trouble in NYC.”
“How about you, Zach? Everything good?”
“Relax, Noah. The building purchase was finalized, and we’ve got contractors putting in bids for the renovations.”
“How about the girls?”
“I’ll look after them,” says Sam.
“Stop worrying, Noah. I’ve arranged so that they can stay in an unused part of Canal Street General for a few weeks. We’re also talking to people at the Russian Orthodox and Chinese churches to see if anyone wants to adopt a new ‘daughter’ or two.”
“Are you sure the building reno can get done that fast?”
“The contractors are putting in bids based on twenty-four-hour days,” says Zach.
“Where the heck are they going to find workers like that?” asks Olivia.
Everyone looks at the new bride. Duh.
Olivia sheepishly shrugs. “Oops.”
The workers will come from the pool of illegal Chinese immigrants that know Zach’s father, Dr. Tang. They will all be overjoyed to get work—tax free and under the table.
“Now can we eat?” asks the exasperated Sam.
Noah tussles the young man’s hair. “Love you, too, bro. Let’s go.”
Thirty seconds later, they amble back to the church sanctuary, now converted to a buffet-style eatery. To reflect the multicultural heritage of the attendees, there is a feast of Chinese roast suckling pig, abalone, sea cucumber and pea tips. Chicken Kiev, beef Stroganoff and borscht are the Eastern European dishes. And Walrus’s mom wanted authentic soul food and personally made braised collard greens, smoked ham hocks and sweet potato pie.
There’s not only enough food for the thirty-some-odd wedding invitees, there’s lots left for the street people that come by the church every day for a meal or place to rest.
Life should always be so good.
***
But on the other side of the world, this has not been a good day for Chin. In fact, it has been downright terrible.
Why? It’s a sad truth, but despite the excruciating regimen of intense rehab, the proud, arrogant Chin has come to realize that he will never again be the man he once was. No matter how many sit-ups or bench presses he does, no matter how long he’s practiced the ancient Shaolin forms, no matter how many tiger penises or rhinoceros horns he ingests, he will never again be the same.
Of course, women don’t count. Animal magnetism is in his fiber, and even in his present condition, there is no end of nubile young women that wish to have the Tiger Master thrill their bodies with his legendary sexual prowess. Now, he spurns them all. In fact, if he never has sex again, he couldn’t care less.
Neither is money important in itself. Chin realizes now that he was living under a lie. It used to be that if you asked him how much money he needs, the answer would be the same as the one that American billionaire John. D. Rockefeller gave. “Just a little bit more.”
Once upon a time, someone told him, “Everything is meaningless.” He dismissed that as the drivel from someone who had nothing. Chin was desperately poor when he was young, and he never wanted to experience that again. But honestly, Chin is not poor by man’s standards. He is only poor compared to his own.
What Chin does care for is power. Power that’s been ripped from him. He will never again be the scourge of Asia, the fear of everyone who comes into his presence. His lackey, Garret, bested him in a fight, and even worse, so did pipsqueak Noah Reid.
Nor can Chin escape his lifelong indoctrination into The Way of the Shaolin. Although he long passed over to the dark side, twenty years of Master Wu’s daily teaching—not just from Buddhism and martial arts, but also from the moral strictures of Confucius—remain ingrained in the recesses of his psyche.
He can’t bury them. Instead, he has rejected, warped and morphed those thoughts so that he is above them: Chin is the superior man, and he makes the rules.
Chin looks around his private gym. After almost being burned to death like a human torch, his rehab is about as complete as it is ever going to be. The skin grafts, while excellent, are not as good as real skin. His muscle speed, while better than 99 percent of all humans, is ever so slower than it was just a few short months ago. And his strength? He’s lucky to bench press three twenty instead of the four hundred he used to. His former strength, flexibility and agility of a world-class athlete are only 80 percent of what it was BNR—“Before Noah Reid.”
His contacts have informed him that Noah Reid and the Chad Huang Foundation are now down to ten percent of the original three billion that it started with. At the rate it’s disappearing, who knows how long the rest will last?
That’s my money. It took me twenty years to build that, and it’s gone in months.
Ever since Noah and Garret defeated him at his penthouse headquarters, Chin had been scheming, even sacrificing his children, to try to recover his money. None of it worked, and now there’s only a fraction of his original fortune left. There’s not much point in trying to recover that, and there is no point in risking the life of Prez, his oldest child, the only child he has left. And the only child Chin ever cared much about.
Chin had spared Noah because he had hope that he would be able to recover his money, but that hope is now gone. It is forever lost.
Therefore, Noah Reid must die.
And then a sobering, even humiliating thought:
I can’t do it by myself.
***
It’s almost a waste flying first class for Noah and Olivia as they jet their way to Hong Kong. Unlike most passengers who want to take full advantage of the ultra-comfortable, ultra-wide chairs, the two honeymooners prefer to squeeze into one of the luxurious seats. Yes, it’s tight, but the lovebirds don’t care.
“What are we going to do next?” murmurs Olivia, planting her lips on his unshaven cheek. “You must have thought of something.”
“I’ve always wanted to open my own coffee shop with a roaster in the back.”
“You’re thinking of Chad again, Noah.”
Chad Huang, the namesake of the foundation, had a coffee shop in Hong Kong where kids like Sam hung out for hours.
“Yeah, I guess so… Actually, Olivia I have no idea what I’m going to do. But you? You are an amazing pianist. Put out something on iTunes. Play clubs, concerts… ”
“Olivia the piano player died when Abby the singer died.”
The man in the row behind them gets up and leans over to them.
“If this is what you talk about during your honeymoon, your dates must be a barrel of fun.”
The stranger sits back down.
Noah and Olivia stare at each other and then burst out wit
h gales of laughter.
Chapter 4
The Coyote River Tribe is an autonomous Native American tribe in Oregon. Fiercely self-reliant, they resisted pressure to join with a federally recognized tribe. This means they make their own decisions for their small eight hundred-member tribe without a lot of squabbling, politicking, and inter-tribal bickering. On the down side, it means that everyone in the tribe has to work a lot harder, performing double duty and more.
That the Coyote River Tribe remains independent is not completely by choice. The sad fact is that other tribes really don’t want to have much to do with them because Coyote River doesn’t have much to offer. The biggest factor is their terrible location not too far from Cedarville, a small town on U.S. Highway 20. This rarely used two-lane highway favored by heavy-duty trucks is full of dangerous and never-ending twists and turns. The state has been promising, for what seems like a hundred years, to straighten parts of it out, but the way things are going, it might be another hundred before they get to it.
The other major problem is its tribal council that for decades has struggled with its identity in the twenty-first century. Every debate is bogged down with generational conflicts, arguments between what was and what could be. While these are not uncommon for any cultural group, for some reason, they are exacerbated by local issues.
One of the key reasons is the Coyote River Hotel and Casino. When the progressives of the tribe managed to push their agenda and get it opened a dozen years ago, it was lauded as the economic savior for the future. For a few years, it was popular and had visitors not only from Oregon but from different states as well. After all, one could cut over to the famed Oregon Coast on the highway, and the hotel/casino complex was right on the way.
But anyone who gives a half moment of thought recognizes a casino here is marked for certain death. Its remote location and its governance by a mired-in-glorified-history tribal council with an unwillingness to spend money to upgrade is bound to doom the casino eventually.
RITUAL SACRIFICE: The Ultimate Alpha Female & Political Corruption on the West Coast (Noah Reid Action Suspense Thriller Series Book 5) Page 2
