Dragon Head

by James Houston Turner

  Offering Jingfei and Kai his hands, Wilcox pulled both kids to their feet.

  “Can we, like, get something to eat?” asked Kai. “We ran out of the restaurant before we could order.”

  And Wilcox could not help but laugh.

  CHAPTER 53

  Five blocks away Straw Sandal led Talanov into a neighborhood where tourists seldom ventured. There were no gleaming skyscrapers in this part of the city. Only rows of small shops lining the narrow streets, with roller doors that went up each morning and back down again each night. Above each shop were five to fifteen stories of small apartments dotted with tiny balconies with tiny windows and hundreds of tiny air conditioners mounted on rusty metal frames.

  Turning a corner, Talanov saw a two-story building on the other side of the street. The building was a converted warehouse, with a flat roof, walls of brick, and two rows of windows running the length of the building. There was a large sign above a heavy wooden door, with yellow Chinese characters outlined in red. Beneath this was an English translation that read, Zhongzhen Martial Arts Academy. On each side of the door were elaborately carved beams with Chinese symbols representing the academy’s twelve fighting virtues.

  Loitering in front of the academy were half a dozen Shí bèi fighters. When they saw Talanov and Straw Sandal coming toward them, one fighter ran inside while the rest strode aggressively to meet them. Straw Sandal peeled away when the group arrived, leaving Talanov alone in their midst.

  The fighters formed a circle around Talanov and Talanov eyed them. He recognized several from the attack at the pizza parlor in San Francisco. Many still had scabs on their faces.

  “I’m here to see Dragon Head,” said Talanov.

  No one moved, and Talanov could also see they were looking to even the score. Perhaps that’s why they had been waiting outside in the first place. Dragon Head was allowing them the opportunity to restore honor to themselves and the academy. Plus, Dragon Head wouldn’t mind them softening him up before their meeting. To let him know who was boss.

  Talanov stood a head taller than any of the fighters, who were all thin and wiry. Talanov also had a longer arm reach, which was great in hand-to-hand combat.

  But there were five of them and only one of him, and like a pack of hyenas surrounding a lion, the pack would wear down the lion until the lion could fight no more.

  Best I not let that happen, Talanov thought.

  The fighter to his left looked to be the oldest, in his late twenties, perhaps, with a ponytail tied up in a knot. Talanov guessed him to the group leader by the way the others kept glancing at him while he, in turn, kept glancing at Straw Sandal, as if waiting for her command.

  Talanov smiled at the ponytail guy. It was not a friendly smile but one of mockery, a smirk.

  “Somebody lose a fight?” Talanov asked, touching his face in the same places where ponytail guy had scabs. He knew ponytail guy didn’t speak English by the way he looked at Straw Sandal, and sure enough, as predicted, Straw Sandal translated his remark.

  The ponytail guy reacted as Talanov thought he would. His eyes flashed with anger. His nostrils flared. His hands formed fists and he took a breath and held it in preparation for a strike. So Talanov took ponytail guy out with a leaping front kick to his jaw. The kick snapped the ponytail guy’s head back and dropped him where he stood.

  Four against one.

  Talanov then hammered an elbow into the jaw of the man directly to the left of ponytail guy. It was not enough to drop him because the young fighter avoided its full impact by ducking to the side, but Talanov followed it with a spinning second elbow that did connect. The blow sent a spray of saliva from the man’s mouth before his legs went rubbery and he collapsed.

  Three against one.

  Talanov was now outside the group. Before, he had been surrounded. Now he had room to move. He could hear Straw Sandal shrieking orders, but with his focus on the remaining fighters, he didn’t have time to look at her face, which by the sound of her voice was rabid with fury.

  The other three fighters flew at him in a phalanx of leaping front kicks. The advantage of a leaping front kick is that if it doesn’t connect, it allows the fighter to land on his feet, well-balanced and prepared for additional kicks or punches. Another advantage is its height. A leaping front kick can strike an opponent in the throat or face, and its snapping power is like a hammer. The one disadvantage is its brief airborne moment, when its forward direction cannot be changed until the attacker’s feet are again on the ground.

  Milliseconds after the attackers sprang into the air, Talanov spun to his right and drove a leaping roundhouse kick into the back of the nearest attacker’s head. By the time the other two came down on their feet, the nearest attacker was face-down on the pavement.

  Two against one.

  The remaining pair of fighters turned to face Talanov. But not before Talanov had shoved the nearest fighter into the other one with a two-handed pop to the chest. Caught off balance in their turns, the first fighter toppled backward into the second fighter and both of them fell. The first fighter used his momentum to do a back roll off the other fighter. That left the second fighter exposed for the instant needed for Talanov to crack a fist across his jaw.

  One against one.

  Talanov and the remaining fighter circled one another, looking for an opening. The Shí bèi fighter kept dancing, feinting, and darting with his upper body in an effort to throw Talanov off balance. He then tried a gymnastic move that looked like a horizontal cartwheel, hoping to knock Talanov’s feet out from under him.

  It failed.

  Talanov hopped back, then leaped forward with a front kick into the fighter’s head just as he was coming out of the cartwheel.

  Game over.

  Straw Sandal looked at the collection of groaning bodies in the street. By now, spectators were observing them from the sidewalk and in upstairs windows. With a glare at the spectators, Straw Sandal turned and marched into the academy.

  Talanov slowly followed.

  The fact that he had just defeated another group of Dragon Head’s fighters would hopefully earn him some respect. More likely, it would inflame Dragon Head’s resolve to repay this additional insult. Dragon Head wouldn’t kill him, that much he knew, nor would they kill Su Yin. Dragon Head needed them both alive, at least for now. But he would definitely want to break him, to establish dominance, to instill fear and force compliance.

  This is going to hurt.

  Inside the wooden front door of the academy was a small lobby. On the far side of the lobby, which was illuminated by soft light, was a doorway that led into a corridor that made a sharp turn to the right. On the wall to his left was a framed drawing of some Chinese symbols. Also on the parchment was an ink drawing of an old man of indeterminate age. He had wispy white hair, fearsome eyes and crinkled skin, with each line around the eyes seeming to represent decades of wisdom. Below the framed parchment was a fountain. It stood waist high and made a peaceful sound as water tumbled gently into a small pool hewn from stone.

  Talanov paused to focus his senses. He could hear grunts and chatter in the next room. He could smell the perspiration and hear the scuffing of bare feet and the pops and slaps of boxing gloves and fists.

  Time to get this over with.

  He entered the corridor and followed it to the right, where it opened onto the wooden floor of the gym, which was a large rectangular room, with rows of windows near the ceiling and what looked to be a kick-boxing ring in the center. Two fighters with padded fighting gloves were in the ring. Beyond the elevated platform were more fighters using exercise equipment, balance beams, and weights. Much of the floor was covered with mats. People of all ages – men, women, boys, girls – were practicing individual routines. To his right were several long tables stacked with food parcels, where lines of old men and women were being served by half a dozen fighters in tank tops.

  When Talanov entered the gym, all activity stopped. He paused and scanned the faces looki
ng back at him, then proceeded toward Straw Sandal, who was waiting by the corner of the kickboxing ring. When he drew near, Straw Sandal uttered a sharp cry. Seconds later, he was set upon by more than twenty fighters, who pinned him face-down on the floor.

  “No one make fools of us,” Straw Sandal said.

  “You don’t need me for that,” Talanov replied.

  Straw Sandal kicked Talanov in the ribs. Pain exploded through his body and made him want to curl up in a ball. But he had been immobilized on the floor and could not move. Seconds later, he heard the approach of footsteps. They were long, authoritative strides that stopped near his head. The entire gym was still in silence. Straw Sandal said something to whomever was standing over him, but because it was in

  Chinese, he did not know what she said.

  A long moment of silence passed.

  “I demand to see Dragon Head,” Talanov finally said.

  “You are in no position to be making demands,” replied the voice of a woman.

  Talanov tried craning his neck to see who was speaking but could not move. He recognized the voice but knew it was not Straw Sandal. He had heard it before, but where?

  Suddenly, it dawned on him. He had heard it on the phone in San Francisco. It was the same woman who had texted him the images of Su Yin. The same woman who had planted spyware on his phone.

  And yet there was something else familiar about the voice. Had he met this woman before? If so, where?

  Talanov tried looking up again but the hands clamping his head in place would not allow it. Finally, the woman spoke again – a sharp command in Chinese – and his head was released. When he looked up, he saw the face of a woman he was certain had killed. Xin Li was her Chinese name although Talanov knew her by her Russian name, Sofia Dubinina, and she was his former partner in the KGB.

  And Talanov could only peer up at her with an open-mouthed stare.

  “Nothing to say?” Sofia asked, screwing a silencer on the pistol she was holding. “No clever remarks? No witty retorts?”

  “But you’re . . . dead. I killed you!” stammered Talanov.

  “Apparently not,” Sofia replied, “although you will soon regret that fact.”

  And with a cold smile of satisfaction, Sofia cocked her pistol and aimed.

  CHAPTER 54

  A lifetime can pass before a person’s own eyes in less than a second. Decades of failures, successes, frustrations, hopes, dreams, pleasures, romances, and regrets . . . everything.

  One night in particular stood out among Talanov’s memories. It had been a turning point in his life, almost as much as the murder of his wife, and he had thought about this night many times since it occurred in 1985, when he and Sofia had been traveling together along the Mediterranean coast of Spain. Their purpose had been to track down a defecting scientist carrying vials of weaponized anthrax.

  Talanov had openly defied Moscow on this assignment. They wanted him to sneak quietly into Spain, apprehend the doctor and his family, then sneak them on board a Soviet freighter for the ride back home. Talanov did not want to do that because inverse logic told him that sneaking into Spain quietly was a bad idea, even though it made sense on the surface. The reason: the CIA, which was assisting the doctor with his defection, would be expecting the KGB to attempt a covert rescue, and they would be prepared. An opposite strategy must therefore be adopted.

  Which is exactly what he did. With Sofia on his arm, he chose the limelight in lieu of the shadows, which translated into a flamboyant two weeks of partying in the fast lane that included a Ferrari, tuxedos, elegant gowns, dancing, casinos, and fancy hotels. Talanov’s aim: to have every eye following their every step. It was a classic misdirect.

  The ruse worked as he calculated it would. What he did not realize, however – what he did not see coming because he, too, like the CIA, was looking in the wrong direction – was Sofia’s betrayal. She had plans of her own.

  Those plans included orders to kill him. Those plans included stealing the anthrax for herself, which she would then sell to the highest bidder. But instead of carrying out those orders, she offered to share the wealth. Why? Because she had fallen in love with him, or, more accurately, with the idea of someone like him. And when he rejected that love, she decided to kill him after all.

  Talanov could still see her hanging in the open door of the car, gun in hand while they raced through the streets of Marbella that warm summer night. Still see the hatred in her eyes. Still hear her screaming at him because of the defecting doctor’s teenage daughter, Noya, whose life he was trying to save after her men had deliberately infected her with a genetically engineered form of anthrax. Sofia could not understand why Talanov was risking his life to save the girl after she, Sofia, had offered him the world. He could still see her raising her gun to kill him. Could still see the shocked look in her eyes when he managed to shoot her first. Could still see her falling from the car, and, in his rearview mirror, see her bouncing and flipping before skidding under a truck. No one could have survived being shot at point blank range. No one could have survived such a fall from a speeding car.

  And yet she had.

  And here she was, standing over him with a pistol aimed straight at his head.

  Talanov closed his eyes.

  “Release him!” a voice shouted in English.

  The Shí bèi fighters immediately stepped away and Talanov looked up to see a muscular white man entering the gym with more Shí bèi fighters accompanying him. It was Dragon Head, wearing a tank top that showcased his tattooed shoulders and arms.

  Sofia stormed over to confront Dragon Head while Talanov climbed slowly to his feet. “I have waited years for this moment,” she cried.

  Dragon Head stopped in front of Talanov and looked back and forth between him and Sofia.

  “Look at me! At what he did!” Sofia screamed, yanking open her shirt to show Dragon Head the bullet scars in her chest. She then turned around to reveal a track of scars down one side of her back. “He left me for dead!”

  “And the part about you trying to kill me?” asked Talanov. “You seemed to have forgotten to mention that detail.”

  Sofia replied with a savage punch to the stomach that dropped Talanov to his knees. When Sofia started to kick Talanov in the head, Dragon Head stopped her.

  “Enough!” he commanded. “Your vengeance is not my concern.”

  When Talanov climbed unsteadily to his feet, Sofia spat in his face. Talanov wiped off the spit and watched Sofia storm a short distance away, where she began pacing back and forth, glaring at him angrily while slapping the barrel of her pistol in her hand.

  “It appears you two know one another,” Dragon Head remarked.

  “A lifetime ago,” said Talanov.

  “I have never seen her like this.”

  “Be patient, you will. One day she’ll turn on you the same way she turned on me.”

  Sofia charged over and jammed her gun up under Talanov’s chin. Dragon Head shouted a warning but Sofia didn’t budge. Her anger was so intense it was palpable.

  After a long moment, Talanov eased the pistol aside. “If you want to settle this some other time, that’s fine with me. Right now, your boss and I have business to discuss. And it starts with me seeing Su Yin.”

  Sofia started to backhand Talanov but Talanov caught the blow in midair and shoved her back. When she started to retaliate, Dragon Head stopped her.

  “He mocks us!” yelled Sofia.

  “I’m here because I’m trying to cooperate,” stated Talanov. “But not if Su Yin is dead. Proof of life, that’s all I’m asking. A moment to make sure she’s okay.”

  Dragon Head thought for a moment, then nodded to an old Shí bèi fighter standing on the far side of the gym. In his seventies, the fighter was fit, as were all the other fighters, but unlike the others, whose expressions were intense, his eyes had a gentle calmness.

  The old fighter responded with an obedient bow and disappeared down a hallway. When he returned a minute la
ter, Su Yin was with him. She was wearing the same pink dance leotard she had been wearing when kidnapped.

  When Su Yin saw Talanov, she ran across the floor, tears streaming down her cheeks. Talanov knelt and Su Yin flew into his arms and hugged him tightly. “Don’t leave me, don’t leave me,” she kept saying.

  After a moment, Dragon Head snapped his fingers and the old Shí bèi fighter took Su Yin by the arm.

  “I haven’t talked with her yet,” said Talanov, knocking his hand away.

  Talanov was immediately tackled by a swarm of Shí bèi fighters.

  “I haven’t talked with her yet!” Talanov shouted over the cries of Su Yin being led away. He tried to elbow his way free, only to be punched to the floor, where he was repeatedly kicked until he curled up tightly in a ball, knees up to his chin, arms covering his head.

  After commanding the fighters to stop, Sofia dropped down onto her knees and looked Talanov directly in the eyes. “I will have my revenge,” she hissed in Russian, her face inches from his. “And that’s after I butcher the girl.”

  “Touch her and I’ll kill you,” shouted Talanov, also in Russian. He scrambled to his feet, but was punched and kicked to the floor again by Sofia and the Shí bèi fighters.

  Dragon Head issued a command and everyone stopped.

  “What did you say to him?” Dragon Head demanded, pulling Sofia back.

  Sofia twisted out of Dragon Head’s grasp but said nothing. Dragon Head glared at her for a long moment before ordering his fighters to help Talanov to his feet.

  “What did she say to you?” demanded Dragon Head, stepping over to face Talanov. “And what did you say to her?”

  “She threatened to kill Su Yin. So I told her I’d send her to hell if she so much as touched her.”

  “No one will harm the girl so long as you do what I say,” Dragon Head replied. “But if I do not get my money . . .”

  Talanov gave a start. “Money? Is that what this is about? You want me to give you money?”

  “Not you, Colonel,” said Dragon Head.