Dragon Head

by James Houston Turner

  It was not a murder she could ever prove, especially when the medical examiner called her mother’s death an unfortunate instance of improperly cooked blood clams, which her mother always ordered whenever they dined in her favorite restaurant. She had even gone to the restaurant to question the chef, who had served them faithfully for nearly ten years, only to hear the chef had died suddenly of a heart attack. The manager expressed concern over the incident, saying he had witnessed the chef having an argument with Xin Li in the alley the night before her mother’s death. Two deaths within two days. The common denominator?

  Xin Li.

  It was then and there that she knew Xin Li was guilty of killing her mother, and she would have killed Xin Li in revenge were it not for the dishonor it would heap on her father were she found guilty of such an act without proof that Xin Li had committed the crime. Her only recourse was to—

  “Did you hear me?” the technician asked, causing Straw Sandal to refocus.

  “Tell me again,” Straw Sandal said.

  “I asked why the American agents would be pursuing Talanov and Wilcox.”

  “What did the agents look like?” Straw Sandal asked, spotting two Caucasian men on the corner across the street. Each had short hair and the alertness of men with military training.

  The technician described them just as the two men paused in a recessed doorway and Straw Sandal saw one of the men hand the other man a pistol, which he concealed beneath his shirt.

  “I see them,” Straw Sandal said, her eyes moving back and forth between the two agents and the blinking green dot on her screen. “They are following Talanov.”

  After ending the call, Straw Sandal clicked photos of the two agents, then dialed a number.

  Less than half a mile away, in the Zhongzhen Martial Arts Academy, Dragon Head was in the center of the gym’s fight ring, surrounded by four Shí bèi fighters. The fight ring was an elevated eight-meter-square platform with a bare wooden floor. The mats from the floor had been removed because Dragon Head said hard wood was a better teacher than soft mats.

  The four fighters were feinting and dancing, probing for weaknesses with quick jabs and kicks. Dragon Head moved smoothly and deftly in a small circle, dodging and blocking with quick, fluid movements until he suddenly sprang forward with a leaping kick-punch combination that caused his target to leap back and to the side, avoiding impact. The fighter thought Dragon Head had missed his mark, but the move was actually a feint that enabled him to do a spinning kick into the head of another fighter. Dragon Head controlled the force of the kick to avoid serious damage, yet with enough impact to send the fighter to the floor. Dragon Head then back-kicked the other fighter off of the platform, then danced and punched and kicked his way around the ring, leaving the other fighters lying dazed on the fight ring floor. It was an elegant spectacle that brought smiles and approving nods from elderly spectators, who visited the academy each day, watching the young men and women of the neighborhood train and learn.

  Dressed in black yoga tights and a sports bra that showcased her lean but muscular arms, Sofia was sitting on the corner of a wooden table when Dragon Head’s cell phone rang beside her. After checking the Caller ID, she took the call.

  Straw Sandal asked for her father but Sofia said he was busy. Knowing she needed assistance in preventing the agents from killing Talanov, she reported what was happening, namely, that she was following two armed American agents, who were following Talanov, who had been at police headquarters looking through the belongings of Wu Chee Ming.

  “Where are you now?” asked Sofia, jumping off the table.

  “Heading east on Lockhart Road, away from Arsenal House. I have the agents in sight.”

  “Did Talanov locate the funds? Was there a clue that our people missed?”

  “Our source did not know.”

  “Perhaps Talanov is on his way to make the transfer?”

  “It is possible,” answered Straw Sandal.

  “Text me your location,” instructed Sofia.

  CHAPTER 67

  Talanov stepped between two parked cars and looked behind, as if checking for traffic. Fifty meters back he saw them: two military types, Chinese heritage, pushing their way aggressively through the flow of pedestrians. Even from this distance, he could tell their focus was on him.

  “They’re gaining, aren’t they?” asked Wilcox, winded from the fast pace they had been walking.

  “We’ll manage. Come on, let’s cross,” said Talanov, waiting for a break in the traffic before dashing with Jingfei to the median, hopping over a low fence, then dashing to the other side.

  “Is it Shaw’s men or Dragon Head’s?” asked Jingfei.

  “Shaw’s,” answered Talanov. “How did they know where we were?”

  “They must be tracking your phone.”

  Talanov took out his cell phone and began trying to pry off the back.

  Snatching the phone from Talanov’s hand, Jingfei quickly removed the plate, removed the battery, then replaced the plate and handed it back by the time Kai had helped Wilcox over the fence and hurried with him across the street.

  “Good job, Bill, way to go,” said Kai, slapping Wilcox on the arm while Wilcox paused to catch his breath.

  “We need to keep moving,” said Talanov, putting his phone in one pocket and the battery in another.

  Fifty meters behind, Delta and Zulu saw Talanov cross the street, and after waiting for a break in the traffic, did the same.

  Not wanting to risk being noticed, Straw Sandal did not cross the street as the two agents had done, although she increased her speed so as not to lose sight of them while texting her location to Sofia. Seconds later, her cell phone rang.

  “I’m on my way,” Sofia said as a heavy metal roller door finished opening. Sofia gunned her motor scooter and sped out of the academy’s basement garage into traffic. Following her were six Shí bèi fighters, all of whom were armed with pistols in the pockets of their black cargo pants. When the last fighter left the garage, the metal door rolled closed.

  Straw Sandal ended the call and touched a button that brought a street map of Hong Kong onto the screen. But there was no blinking green dot. It had disappeared.

  A block ahead, Talanov led the way around a corner and along a street bordered by low-rise blocks of apartments with deteriorating plaster walls and air conditioners streaked with rust. Stairwells into the apartments were covered with steel mesh security doors.

  “We need to separate,” said Wilcox. “I’m slowing you down.”

  “No way,” said Kai, taking Wilcox by the arm. “We’re not leaving you behind to get shot and then tossed into some stinky dumpster full of garbage.”

  “That was . . . graphic,” said Wilcox, and Kai grinned.

  “Come on,” said Talanov, taking Wilcox by the other arm. He could tell Wilcox was hurting. He also knew Wilcox was right. If they didn’t separate, Shaw’s men would catch them and it would be game over . . . for all of them.

  Which it probably was for Zak. He could still see the image of Zak on his knees, hands zip-tied behind his back, staring up into the camera, his face bloody and bruised. Neither he, Ginie, nor Emily had asked for any of this. By all rights, Zak and the women should have been safe by now.

  By all accounts, it made sense to send them away to some remote location, except that Shaw had out-maneuvered him. At least Larisa was safe. At least he had done one thing right by sending her away.

  Why couldn’t life be normal? Why couldn’t he just cook veggies for mobs of kids, or go out with friends and eat pizza?

  But life wasn’t normal, and never would be, and right now he didn’t have time to feel sorry for himself. Right now, his only focus was saving the other lives he had endangered, and that meant Wilcox and the kids.

  Ahead on the other side of the street, Talanov saw what looked like a slit between more low-rise blocks of apartments, with people streaming in and out like bees flying in and out of a hive. Quickening their pace, Talano
v angled across the street.

  “Almost there,” said Talanov, noticing how hard Wilcox was breathing.

  The “slit” between the buildings was technically a lane, just over one car wide, with clusters of bicycles parked near the entrance.

  A neighborhood bazaar, thought Talanov, hearing music and the clamor of voices.

  Glancing back, Talanov saw Shaw’s men turn the corner and come running toward them.

  “Hurry!” he said, herding the group into the lane with a stream of arriving shoppers.

  The tiny shops lining each side of the lane offered everything imaginable. Roller doors beneath canvas awnings had been raised to expose narrow aisles crammed with colorful merchandise. Goods had been stacked on the floor, shelves, and on tables. Every inch of space was occupied. There were stacks of canned goods, packaged goods, dried goods, bottled drinks, stuffed animals, herbal products, artwork, ceramic bowls, plates, and woks. There were open crates of fresh produce and bins of chopsticks, incense, and utensils. As if that were not enough, there were racks of jewelry, clothing, dried meat, belts, necklaces, handbags, and scarves. There were counters of fresh meat, fish, smoked ducks, hot bread, rolls, pastries, desserts, and candy. Some vendors had deep fryers that were sizzling and popping. Banners hung from ceilings. Red paper lanterns had been strung across the lane. Interspersed between the shops were dumpsters filled with trash.

  Because there were so many people crowding the bazaar, the group had to weave along single-file, like a snake. Talanov was in the lead, followed by Jingfei, Wilcox, then Kai.

  Jingfei leaned forward and said, “Bill, he’s really hurting.”

  “I know,” Talanov replied, glancing back to see Kai slide his shoulder under Wilcox’s armpit to help him walk. “He needs rest and needs it fast. But we have to lose Shaw’s men.”

  Delta and Zulu paused at the entry of the bazaar and Zulu checked his scanner. “The tracking dot’s gone. They’re definitely onto us!”

  A burst of whining engines drew their attention, and the two men saw a pack of six motor scooters racing toward them. The riders were all leaning forward, their black hair blowing in the wind.

  Delta and Zulu saw arm movements. Seconds later, bullets began stinging the air next to their heads. One struck Zulu’s phone and shattered it in his hand. Delta and Zulu returned fire before ducking into the bazaar. One Shí bèi fighter was hit and went down while the others began swerving in a crisscrossing pattern.

  Sofia slowed to make sure the injured fighter was alive, then joined the others, who had paused at the entrance, awaiting orders.

  “Go after them,” Sofia commanded. “But do not kill Talanov or his friends. We need them alive.”

  Gunning their engines, the Shí bèi fighters sped into the lane.

  The narrow street was only a block long but that block was the length of a football field. With shots having been fired and people screaming and running toward the other entrance like a runaway herd, Talanov and Jingfei began running with them. A short distance behind were Wilcox and Kai. Kai was helping Wilcox and Wilcox was panting heavily. Farther behind were Delta and Zulu, and behind them were the Shí bèi fighters, firing at the agents, into the air, and into shops, in an effort to frighten people out of their way. Bullets shattered dishes and chewed through shelves. Stacks of cans toppled over and spilled out into the lane.

  Ducking behind a dumpster, Delta fired over the top of the container while Zulu dropped down onto one knee and fired around the side. Both men hit their marks and two Shí bèi fighters flew off their scooters. The first scooter sped straight into another dumpster and exploded, sending a fireball thundering upward, igniting a canvas awning. The other bike cartwheeled into one of the shops.

  Falling back to the protection of another dumpster, Delta told Zulu to go after Talanov.

  “Copy that,” said Zulu, handing Delta a spare magazine. He then sprinted after Talanov while Delta popped up from behind the dumpster and fired, hitting another Shí bèi fighter while the remaining two plowed through some racks of clothing before veering back into the lane and returning fire.

  Sofia was observing from the entrance when Straw Sandal arrived, winded from her sprint down the block.

  “The American agents?” asked Straw Sandal, gulping air while frightened shoppers streamed past.

  “In there,” Sofia said.

  “While you wait here?” And after a bitter glare at Sofia, Straw Sandal ran into the lane.

  Halfway down the lane, Delta attempted to fire over the dumpster again but his pistol was empty, and with a curse, he ducked back down just as the lead Shí bèi fighter opened fire. Bullets riddled the dumpster and made dull thunks. Looking behind him, Delta saw some empty five-gallon cooking oil cans. Grabbing one, he slung it straight at the Shí bèi fighter. The spinning can hit the fighter in the face and sent him crashing into a table of dishes. Ducking behind the dumpster, Delta reloaded and fired a quick burst at the remaining Shí bèi fighter. The rider skidded into a table stacked with cans and bottles. When the crash occurred, Delta ran after Zulu.

  Reaching the other end of the lane, Talanov and Jingfei looked back to see Wilcox hiding behind a shelf of canned goods, bent over, attempting to catch his breath. Kai was beside him, tugging at his arm, but Wilcox was spent.

  “Wait here. I need to help Bill,” instructed Talanov.

  But Jingfei sprinted through the panic-stricken crowd and over to Wilcox and Kai.

  “Do you ever listen?” grumbled Talanov, dashing after her.

  Jingfei knelt beside Wilcox. “Come on, we’ve got to hurry,” she said just as Talanov arrived.

  “I’m finished. I can’t go on,” Wilcox replied, his brow dripping with sweat.

  Talanov peeked around the shelf, then quickly withdrew when he saw Delta and Zulu coming toward him, looking in each shop, pistols in hand. “It’s Shaw’s men. Stay here, I’ll lead them away.”

  “I’ll lead them away,” countered Wilcox. “You need to find that money.”

  “Bill, you can’t give up,” said Kai. “I’ll help you. We can do this.”

  “And I love you for helping me thus far,” Wilcox replied. “But I’m finished. You three hide.”

  “No,” objected Talanov.

  “Su Yin’s life is in your hands, now, go!” He turned and gave quick hugs to Jingfei and Kai. “Take care of Alex, okay? He needs you more than he knows.” He then handed Jingfei his phone.

  “We are not going to leave you!” cried Jingfei.

  “It’s the only way,” Wilcox said. To Talanov: “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had. Tell my son, Danny, that I love him.”

  And before Talanov could reply, Wilcox ran limping toward the end of the lane.

  CHAPTER 68

  Kai started to go after Wilcox but Talanov scooped him and Jingfei into a recessed doorway next to the shop where they had been hiding. With a finger to his mouth, Talanov tucked them into an alcove where a panel of tarnished mailbox doors was mounted in the wall. Talanov stood in front of Jingfei and Kai, his head between theirs, his back to the doorway, like a shield. He knew this placed him in a vulnerable position, but a turned back was more unrecognizable than a face, so he figured the risk was worth it. Seconds later, Delta and Zulu sprinted past.

  Talanov waited a few seconds, then slowly turned his head. Frightened shoppers were still running past. Several ran in to escape the danger, saw them hiding, and ran out again.

  Telling the kids to remain where they were, Talanov peeked around the corner and saw Delta and Zulu close in on Wilcox. He then glanced left and saw Sofia and Straw Sandal trotting toward him. Sofia stood a head taller than everyone else and Straw Sandal was in a baseball cap, which made both of them stand out. Ducking back into the alcove, Talanov put another finger to his mouth and again shielded the kids in the corner.

  Sofia and Straw Sandal bypassed the recessed doorway. Their focus was on the American agents closing in on Wilcox, who had reached the intersection and paused
to catch his breath.

  Reaching the final shop of the bazaar, Sofia and Straw Sandal stepped behind a display of colorful handbags to watch one of the American agents tackle Wilcox on the far side of the intersection, roll him onto his stomach, then zip-tie his hands behind him. The other agent sprinted short distances in each direction, no doubt looking for Talanov. When that agent returned, the first agent had already pulled Wilcox to his feet.

  After watching the two agents lead Wilcox away, Sofia spun around, suddenly alert.

  “What is it?” Straw Sandal asked.

  “Where’s Talanov? You were tracking him.”

  “The tracking dot disappeared. He must have disabled his phone.”

  With an angry curse, Sofia began retracing her steps, looking in the first shop, then zigzagging across the lane to the next shop, then back across the lane, then back again, looking in each shop, then angling across the lane again toward the recessed doorway. She vaguely remembered running past it before, although her focus had been on the two agents following Talanov. But since the agents hadn’t managed to capture Talanov, she began to wonder if Wilcox had been a diversion. She had promised Dragon Head that she would not kill Talanov until he had transferred the funds, and she would keep her word. The kids, however, were another matter. They would give her the leverage she needed to make sure Talanov complied with their demands. Once he had, she would kill the kids in front of him, then do the same to him.

  Readying her pistol, Sofia sprang into the recessed doorway and looked in the alcove. It was empty. She knelt in front of the mailboxes and saw scuff marks in the dust. Three sets of footprints, as if three people had been huddled there, out of sight.

  Sofia rattled the heavy security door that accessed the apartments above. It was locked. Turning, she strode back out into the lane and looked left. Police were arriving at the far end of the lane. She could see the flashing lights of their squad cars. Firefighters had arrived on the scene as well and were extinguishing the dumpster fire.