War of Shadows

by Leo J. Maloney

  Smith, infuriatingly, held up a finger and, seemingly infected by Shifu Feng, quoted Confucius. “‘Nature’s secret is patience,’” he intoned. “Alpha finding out about TAS was no surprise. Zeta was most likely riddled with double agents. So, naturally, Alpha wanted the Threat Assessment Software for themselves, and if they couldn’t get it, they wanted to kill everyone who knew about it.”

  Dan threw up his hands. It was the only thing he could do besides throttling his superior. “This is where I came in,” he growled warningly.

  Smith matched his look of intensity. “And this is why you came in,” he said pointedly. “Because the moment their slaughter started, I saw no choice but to let every intelligence organization in the world know about TAS.”

  Dan couldn’t keep himself from looking back at the private room. The other gamblers in that room had represented the countries with the greatest intelligence apparatuses, manpower, and finances—ninety espionage organizations between them.

  “So, obviously,” Dan said, waving an arm toward the Pai Gow room, “they wanted a piece of it.”

  “Obviously,” Smith agreed. “So I said ‘put your money where your mouth is.’ And, as I expected, they loved that.”

  “You were playing for the software?” Dan asked.

  “Even better,” Smith countered. “They were playing to win you. I was playing to keep you.”

  “What?”

  Smith’s grin was torn between triumph and cunning. “Yes, all these ducks,” he revealed to Dan, “were informed that TAS was in the hands of our most capable and violent operative, but if he died, TAS would be lost.”

  Well, at least that explained why anti-Zeta, a.k.a. Alpha, wanted to kill him, while all the others wanted to capture him.

  Dan had to take a step back. He tried to resist, but he couldn’t help himself. He started patting his limbs to find any sort of tell-tale bump.

  “Where is it?” he demanded. “How did you plant it on me?”

  Smith tried his best to look apologetic, but failed. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I had to leave that up to Diana. I was already halfway around the world, getting all these ducks in a row.”

  Dan took a threatening step toward Smith, but just as he started raising his fist, he found himself barking out a laugh. “Oh, I get it,” he chortled. “That’s what Feng meant by ‘pot’s prerogative.’ I was the pot.”

  Smith smirked. “Yes. And, thanks to you, Zeta gets to keep TAS. For the moment.”

  Dan stiffened in the fountain despite all the hot spring water around them. “Yeah,” he growled. “All bets are off now, aren’t they? It’s open season again, right?”

  Smith cocked his head to the left. “Most assuredly. We are safe while under Shifu Feng’s protection, but once we leave here…”

  “What are we up against?” Dan asked, his mind working furiously.

  “Alpha is now in the open,” Smith informed him, “but that may make them even more dangerous. Now they’ll try to make alliances to get TAS and wipe out Zeta, while I do somewhat the same.”

  “Somewhat?” Dan echoed.

  Smith lowered his chin, his eyes flashing. “Offer TAS to the country that will promise resources to help us stop Alpha.”

  “Dammit, Smith,” Dan snarled. “You make it all sound like a game.”

  The Zeta boss opened his arms to encompass all the gamblers around them. “It very well may be, Cobra.”

  “No,” Dan Morgan said into his superior’s face. “It may have gotten my wife killed …and maybe some other innocent people …thirteen years ago.” He looked at Smith. “Did you kill Lo Liu’s parents?”

  He had pronounced the young woman’s name perfectly.

  When Smith remained silent, Dan asked another question. “You know who I’m talking about, right?”

  This time Smith didn’t hesitate. “Oh, yes. Given her remarkable tenacity, I would be very poor at my job if I didn’t know who you were talking about.”

  “Did you kill her parents, or have them killed?”

  “No,” Smith said flatly. “No, I did not. And you know that’s true, don’t you?”

  Dan had only to think about it for a second. It may have been somewhat reluctantly, but he nodded.

  “As for your wife, Cobra,” Smith continued, leaning down to look him in the eyes. “They must have thoroughly checked the wreckage of your house by now. That will tell the tale. But as you well know, Zeta’s regular channels of communication have been hopelessly compromised, so none of us can find out from here. That is something you have to do, and with all speed, yes?”

  Dan met his boss’s eyes with angry acceptance. “Yes. And you?”

  “Me?” Smith retorted with mock affront. “I have plans.”

  Dan looked at his superior in a way Smith did not like. “Want to hear God laugh?” Cobra asked him point blank. “Make plans.”

  “Confucius?” Smith asked, stepping back.

  “Woody Allen,” Dan replied, grabbing Smith’s tie and leading him like a dog out of the fountain.

  When they both could hear something other than the water and each other, Dan twisted his forefingers in his ears—as Feng and his three hostesses approached, the latter carrying fluffy towels and very fancy cordless hair dryers.

  “Testing, testing, one, two, three,” he said. “Cougar, you read me?”

  The pilot answered. Apparently whatever radio silence Lily Randall had ordered him to follow had been lifted.

  “Wet and soggy,” he said in Dan’s ear, rather than “loud and clear.”

  “Need a lift,” Dan advised. “And bring the Peking Duck along.”

  “Roger that,” Conley snapped. “Wheels up.”

  Dan let go of Smith’s tie, took a towel, and turned to the boss man.

  “Lulu keeps investigating her parents’ deaths, right?”

  “I welcome it,” Smith said.

  Dan believed him. He took a step toward the elevator, but turned back. “And nothing happens to her, yes? I know some people who would be very upset if something happened to her.”

  Smith chortled. “So do I,” he reminded Dan. “I daresay she can take care of herself, Mr. Morgan. Especially now, since she has a Cobra as a friend of the family.”

  Dan smirked, then headed back to the elevators. But as he turned to take what he hoped was a last look at the casino, he saw General Deng saying something in Smith’s ear. Then, as the elevator doors were closing, he saw Feng himself appear in the diminishing opening.

  As those doors closed Dan heard the old man quote Confucius one last time, as if he had heard every word Dan and Smith had said.

  “‘Those who know the truth are not equal to those who love it.’”

  Chapter 29

  When Dan returned to the study-cum-library, only the hostess was waiting for him. But before he could go ballistic, she smiled in a way she hadn’t before. It was a knowing, human smile, not a trained, plastic one. But the tune she sang was the same, albeit much sweeter.

  “You are expected,” she said, motioning toward a side door behind a circular stairwell—not back to the curtains through which they had entered.

  Something about her tone and demeanor told him that he shouldn’t fight her on this. And, sure enough, when he emerged from the side door, he stepped out into the reception hall’s palatial kitchens, which were, in their own way, as impressive as the Confucian Games casino. Spectacular stoves lined each wall, with massive prep islands of wood, marble, quartz, granite, and soapstone lined up in between.

  They could have made airplanes or luxury liners in the space, but instead they were making amazing food to serve, everything from ice cream sandwiches to chateaubriand for every visitor to the resort. A small army of international chefs attacked woks, pans, pots, and machines to realize their creations.

  As Dan surveyed
the food factory, he saw a squadron of waiters, waitresses, maids, and butlers in a clump in the corner, all staring in one direction as if they were betting on a cockroach race. Dan moved unerringly toward the assemblage, already certain what, and who, he would find.

  Sure enough, there was Lulu, sitting on an empty overturned vegetable crate, her cheongsam dress unbuttoned and open. Underneath she wore black, second-skin tricot knit microfiber workout shorts and a matching low-cut Supplex/Lycra sports bra that left little to the imagination. Unlike the shirt and slacks he had first seen her in, there was no disguising her strength and fitness now.

  “About time,” she said when she saw him. “We running or walking out? As you can see, I’m ready for either.” Her slippers—not surprisingly, considering her cleverness—would work for either outfit.

  “A little of both,” Dan informed her. “Let’s say a healthy, non-obvious trot.”

  “Out the guests’ or servants’ exit?” Lulu asked as she stood and started re-clipping the cheongsam.

  “Take your pick.”

  She started unbuttoning her dress again while talking to the others. “Mao-shan,” Dan heard in his head, and the R-comm had no other translation.

  “What’s that?” Dan asked as one of the maids tossed Lulu black tights and a long-sleeve turtleneck that glowed like silk and was thin as a hair.

  “You heard of ninja?” Lulu asked as she slipped both on with ease.

  “Sure,” Dan said.

  “Mao-shan are their Chinese predecessors,” Lulu said, taking a larger-sized turtleneck and tights from a butler and holding them out to Dan. “You’re all wet.”

  Dan looked down at his tuxedo, thinking of his approaching chauffeur. “No thanks,” he told his Taiwanese contact. “I think this’ll do. Wet or not.”

  He waited until Lulu gifted her dress to a like-sized waitress, and turned toward the servants’ exit, all but blending into the darkness.

  “I got to find out about these mao-shan,” Dan commented as he joined her.

  “You don’t find mao-shan,” Lulu advised him, scanning the area behind the reception hall. “They find you. Head for the garage?”

  Dan shook his head. “What’s the most remote, unused part of this place?”

  Lulu looked up at him. “Edge of the Rift Valley,” she answered, pointing northeast. “We better get going. Quite the hike.”

  They set off without another word. Once they passed the buildings, zoo, farm, and orchard, the park became notably more wooded, surrounding the two with cotton trees and scarlet flowers.

  The grass and ground became more inclined and Dan spotted several different kinds of deer peering curiously through the night at them. They were obviously not used to being hunted, since although the elk were still stand-offish, they didn’t bolt at first sight.

  Dan enjoyed the silence and serenity, knowing he’d probably get neither again for the foreseeable future, then said the magic word.

  “Smith.”

  Lulu let it hang in the warm night air for a beat. “Smith,” she then echoed.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t try to get to him, despite your seeming willingness for me to talk to him first.”

  “Come on,” she grumbled. “Get real. You were expected, remember? I’d have as much chance getting to him in that place as a snowflake in a supernova.” She looked at the sky with a certain grim longing. “He’s probably long gone, even now.”

  “He says he didn’t kill your parents.”

  “And you believe him?” Her words, coming from the darkness, carried only curiosity, not accusation.

  “Yes,” Dan said. “And you should too.”

  There was another pause. Longer this time. When her next word came, it was as hard as diamonds.

  “Why?”

  “Because,” Dan answered with the same logic and conviction he had felt when confronting Smith in the fountain. “If he had, you’d also be dead by now.”

  The silence fell again like a tsunami of tar. They kept walking for another minute or two until Dan looked up, discovering the jaw-dropping infinity of stars sparkling above them like a billion quasars. He had never seen a night sky so massive and clear.

  It threatened to be so overwhelming that he was either going to fall onto his back and stare, slack-jawed, or start talking again.

  “Think about it. Smith knew you were tracking him, and he knew why. If he was guilty, what’s the point of keeping you alive? To taunt you like a cat playing with a mouse? Smith may be many things, but…”

  “All right, all right already,” Lulu interrupted from the darkness. “I know, I know. Why do you think I wasn’t arguing?”

  “He said he welcomed your continuing investigation…”

  “He better,” Lulu replied. “‘Cause I’m not stopping. He may not know which of his many …associates”—she said the word as if she were saying “vermin”—“did the deed, but I bet he knows that one or more of them did.”

  “And he’s leaving you to find out,” Dan finished her thought. “Now that’s Smith all right. If he had to set right everything his …associates did wrong, he’d have no time to move the likes of you and me around like…”

  Dan was prevented from saying “pawns” or “puppets” by a sudden downdraft of air so powerful it brought them to their knees.

  “Niubi!” Lulu hissed, while Dan heard the literal translation for the exclamation of amazement in his ear: “Cow vagina!”

  Cow vagina, indeed, Dan thought as he peered up through slit eyelids at the underbelly of the Flying Fox slowly making its descent through a grove of bombax trees that seemed purposely pruned to make a perfect camouflaging shape for the aircraft.

  He grabbed Lulu’s shoulders and propelled her outside the grove until the stealth jet could make its silent landing. Then he accompanied her back just as the hatch opened and Peter “Cougar” Conley stuck his head out.

  “Going my way?” he inquired.

  * * * *

  Dan brought both up to date as Lulu wandered Palecto’s interior, trying very hard not to look impressed. Conley, for his part, was trying to do the same, but with regard to Lulu’s manner and outfit rather than Palecto’s accessories.

  “So he’s been making us all dance in the name of some amorphous larger picture?” the Taiwanese op declared.

  “I like dancing,” Conley commented, taking his usual position against the far wall between the lavatory and galley. He looked to Dan. “That’s what I thought we were hired to do.”

  “And dance damn well,” Cobra agreed. “Especially when the enemy is watching and listening.”

  Lulu didn’t argue the point. “Yeah, all right,” she grudgingly agreed. “I’m just yanfan, and Cobra knows why.”

  Cougar chuckled when their R-comms translated her term as “pissed.”

  “So do I,” Cougar reminded her, pointing at his ear. “And I don’t blame you.”

  Lulu looked from one to the other, then stood straight and put her fists on her hips.

  “Yeah,” she said, “right. And when do I get one of those? I had to trash my Z-comm when it started screeching.”

  Dan stood, his hands up in submission. “Next time you’re in Orange County, I know a doctor who would be happy to oblige.”

  Lulu batted Dan’s arms away, but with a grateful smile. “Don’t patronize me, Cougar. You know my hands are full here.”

  Dan glanced at Cougar’s quizzical expression.

  “You know,” he said as way of explanation. “Friends-of-the-family issues.”

  “Gotcha.” Conley looked at Lulu. “Can we drop you off at the garage?”

  Lulu went from looking petulant to looking excited. “Can you?” she responded excitedly as well as doubtfully, thinking of all the possible disruptions and witnesses. “I’d love to fly in this thing.”

  �
�Watch me,” Conley answered.

  * * * *

  Naturally, Cougar’s landing was nothing short of brilliant, hiding in clouds until he could drop down silently behind a copse of conifers just fifty feet from the garage. If any valets saw anything, they didn’t raise an alarm. Besides, Dan truly doubted it, since given the jet’s pitch blackness, the only thing anyone would notice even if they were looking directly at it would be a series of Palecto-shaped swathes of stars blocked from view.

  When Lulu stepped toward the hatch, she was wearing the R-Zeta uniform of dark gray, lightweight, moisture-wicking, odor-fighting t-shirt, pants, slip-ons, and collarless jacket over her sports bra, workout shorts, and Chinese slippers.

  “One step closer to that R-comm,” Conley commented. “Keep up the good work.”

  “Deal,” she told the pilot before turning to Dan.

  They said nothing, but saw in their eyes the tasks ahead: Dan finding out what had happened to his wife, and Lo Liu finding out what had happened to her parents. And both knew they wouldn’t do anything to screw up each other’s mission.

  The Taiwanese aren’t huggers, and Dan could sense that. But when Lulu raised her right hand and held it there, he gladly gave her a high five.

  “Good hunting,” he told her.

  She smiled at the aptness of his comment, then hopped to the hatch door.

  “Ready,” she told Cougar.

  He pressed a spot on a white, smooth, console, and the hatch slid open, then slid shut again. Lo Liu had disappeared between the two actions. But before she did they both heard the same thing.

  “Ao bai goulai chi tou.”

  It took even the R-comm awhile to figure out that obscure Taiwanese saying, so it wasn’t until the Flying Fox was out over the Philippine Sea that they both heard the translation.

  “Come and play again,” was the best the R-comm could do.

  “Quite the cutie,” Conley judged in retrospect. “No Peking Duck, of course, but still…”

  Dan stood up, stretched, and yawned. “Yeah, too bad we probably won’t see her again.” He stopped in mid-stretch and turned back to Conley. “Where are you hiding the Peking Duck anyway?” he asked his partner.