Dragon Head

by James Houston Turner

  “We missed him,” Sofia said angrily. “Talanov is gone.”

  “What does it matter? We have the girl.”

  “It matters because the Americans just captured Wilcox and will threaten to kill him unless Talanov complies with their demands.”

  Two blocks away, Talanov and the kids shuffled along an alley, exhausted and silent. The alley they were in was lined with dumpsters and trash cans. In the center of the alley was a drainage channel, where dirty water trickled toward a drain.

  “I gave Bill such a hard time,” Jingfei said, wiping tears from her eyes. “I argued with him, was sarcastic and rude, and then he goes and sacrifices himself so that we could get away.” She started to cry, and when she did, Talanov paused to wrap an arm around her shoulder.

  “What are we going to do?” asked Kai.

  Continuing toward the end of the alley, where it met a busy street, Talanov took out his phone. “We’ve got one play left,” he said, removing the back plate, “and I don’t know if it’ll work, but it’s the only play that we’ve got.”

  “If you power up that phone again, they’ll find us,” Jingfei said while Talanov reinserted the battery.

  “I know. So what I need you to do is—”

  The phone chimed and Talanov looked at the screen and frowned. It was a text message from a blocked number, and after swiping the screen, Talanov saw an image that caused him to stagger back against the wall of a shop, where he was unable to speak.

  Jingfei asked what was wrong and Talanov showed her the image of Zak, Ginie, and Emily, their hands zip-tied behind their backs. Taken in the glare of headlights, they were kneeling in front of a large open grave, with piles of dirt and rocks in the background. Zak and the two women had been made to stare up into the camera. Zak’s face was swollen more than it had been in the video sent to him previously by Shaw. The two women looked terrified.

  But Talanov saw what Zak’s captors could not see: the hint of a smile on Zak’s face that said, beaten but not beaten. The sight of Zak speaking to him that way brought a lump into his throat.

  Talanov’s phone rang an instant later. Talanov checked the caller ID and saw that it, too, was from a blocked number.

  “Don’t answer it,” said Jingfei.

  “I have to,” Talanov replied, “or Shaw will kill them.”

  Jingfei grabbed the phone out of Talanov’s hand and looked at the image again. “He’ll kill them, anyway, won’t he?” she asked, wincing at the sight.

  Talanov nodded gravely.

  “But he’s calling to try and force us back onto the plane?”

  “With promises to absolutely kill them if we don’t.”

  “Get Shaw to identify himself,” Jingfei said, returning the phone. “Get him to state what he’s threatening to do.”

  “Why? What good would that do? We’re out of options.”

  “Just do it.”

  Talanov stared at Jingfei for a brief moment, then touched the green answer button and put the phone on speaker. “Who is this?” he demanded.

  “Like the photo I sent?” Shaw replied. “Open grave . . . Babikov and his lovely wife . . .”

  “I don’t know who you are or who you work for, but I will hunt you down if any harm comes to my friends.”

  And Talanov hung up.

  “What are you doing?” shouted Jingfei. “I told you to—”

  Talanov held up a hand and Jingfei stopped mid sentence. Seconds later, the phone rang again and Talanov again put the call on speaker.

  “Don’t you dare hang up on me again!” yelled Shaw.

  “Like I said before, I don’t know who you are or—”

  “Damn you, this is Angus Shaw!”

  Jingfei pumped the air with a victorious fist.

  “Director Shaw, I didn’t realize it was you.”

  “Shut up and listen or I will put bullets in the heads of—”

  “I’ve found a way to stop Dragon Head!” Talanov blurted out. “All I need is another day.”

  “Oh, we are way past giving you more time.”

  “I can stop the hacking. I can stop Dragon Head. I’ve figured out a way.”

  “You are finished, do you hear me? Finished!”

  “Director Shaw, please. A little more time, that’s all I need.”

  “You’ve got one hour, Talanov, and that’s it. One hour for you, those kids, and that Chinese bitch to get back on my plane or I kill your friends. That’s Babikov, his wife, your girlfriend . . . and Wilcox. That’s right, Wilcox dies, too, if you do not stop what you’re doing and get back on my plane. One hour. Or all of them die.”

  CHAPTER 69

  After the mechanized gates closed slowly behind him, Shaw continued along a curved driveway bordered by hooded lights. Across the spacious lawn, floodlights illuminated the tops of numerous trees. The wooded property was once part of a large Southern plantation. In fact, several Civil War relics had been found on the grounds, including a rusty .58 caliber rifle and bayonet.

  Shaw drove into the first of three garages and switched off his engine, and after pushing a button, the garage door behind him rolled down with a creaking hum.

  Sitting in his car, Shaw thought about what Talanov had just told him. Was it possible the man had found a way to stop Dragon Head? Even if Talanov had, he, Shaw, would make sure that Talanov was deported if not sent to prison.

  He had never liked Talanov or the idea of bringing a former KGB colonel into the intelligence community. Obviously, Gustaves favored the move, which was why he had tried to get rid of her at the Monocle and make it look like the Chinese were responsible. She, like Talanov, possessed a working-business-model view of government that cluttered the landscape. Checks and balances, oversight, accountability, transparency: he would be glad to get rid of such clutter.

  After climbing out of his car, Shaw walked over to his workbench, which was a platform of seasoned lumber beneath a row of overhead lights. The work surface of the bench was a sheet of one-inch-thick marine plywood, which was totally unnecessary but which Shaw paid to have installed because the carpenter who built the workbench told him it was the best. The legs of the workbench were seasoned four-by-fours, and there were eight of them, which meant the workbench could support a small truck. On the wall was a large sheet of pegboard holding various hand tools and chrome wrenches. Nearby was a chop saw, which Shaw never used because he didn’t like dust.

  When he was stressed, Shaw often came out to the garage and rearranged the screws and nails in the drawers of his bright red, solid-steel roller cabinet. It calmed him down and made him feel useful and in control.

  Shaw surveyed his workbench kingdom. It was efficient and clean, and everything was just where he wanted it. He lifted a thirty-two-ounce framing hammer off its pegboard hook and hefted it in his hand. He never understood why there were waffle-like grooves in the face of the head. No matter, he just wished he could smash Talanov in the forehead with it. Babikov, too. Like Talanov, he was a loose end that needed to be dealt with. Same with the two women. If he let them go, they would talk, and if they talked, questions would be asked. That’s why Alpha and Bravo had standing orders to kill them as soon as Talanov and the kids were in custody. Then Talanov and those miserable kids would be dealt with in the same manner.

  Spinning the hammer in his hand like a tennis player spinning a racket, Shaw smiled. Everything was falling into place.

  Shaw replaced the hammer just as the door into the house opened and Shaw’s six-year-old daughter, Abby, ran out. “Daddee!” she squealed, leaping up into his arms.

  “What are you doing up so late?” asked Shaw, kissing his daughter on the head.

  “Mommy said I could stay up!”

  “Oh, she did, did she?” asked Shaw, smiling at his wife, Olivia, who was standing in the doorway.

  “Movie night,” Olivia explained.

  Shaw tickled Abby and carried her into the house.

  “Want to come and sit with me?” asked Abby. “I’m w
atching a magic horse!”

  “Daddy’s tired,” Shaw replied, carrying Abby into the kitchen. In the center of the kitchen was a large island of polished black granite. Above it was a metal rack festooned with an array of skillets and pans. To the left was a six-burner industrial stove. To the right was a counter of more black granite, with a stainless steel sink beneath a window that overlooked a turquoise swimming pool.

  “If you’re tired, you should take a nap!” Abby declared. “Mommy makes me take a nap when I’m tired.” She wriggled out of Shaw’s arms, ran across the kitchen floor into a wide hallway, where her footsteps echoed off the polished oak floor while she ran to the end of the hall and turned left, into the television room, which was furnished with couches and stuffed chairs and a giant flat screen television that filled one wall.

  “Where in the world does she get all that energy?” asked Shaw. He walked around the island to a gigantic stainless-steel refrigerator.

  “I could ask you the same thing,” Olivia replied. “I don’t know how you do it.”

  Opening the refrigerator, Shaw grabbed a beer. It was a European variety in a fat green bottle. Shaw popped the cap and loosened his tie and paused to look out the kitchen window at the pool, which was illuminated by underwater lights.

  “Sometimes I don’t, either,” he replied, taking a drink.

  Olivia stepped to his side and rubbed his back. “How was your day?” she asked.

  “It was a good day,” Shaw replied, taking another swallow. “I’m getting rid of some excess clutter. Now, come on, let’s go watch a magical horse.”

  CHAPTER 70

  Jingfei was literally jumping in place, unable to contain herself while turning tiny circles and pumping her fists.

  “What is wrong with you?” asked Talanov once his call with Shaw had ended.

  “You mean, what is right,” Jingfei replied with a grin.

  When Talanov responded with a clueless expression, Jingfei snatched the phone from Talanov’s hand and held it up for him to see. “Whose phone is this?” she asked.

  Talanov responded with an impatient sigh. When Jingfei kept waiting, he said, “Okay, I’ll bite. It’s mine.”

  “Ah, but it’s not,” she said, working the screen. “It’s Emily’s. Which means . . .”

  Jingfei finished working the screen and again held up the phone, this time while it replayed Shaw’s words: “Like the photo I sent? Open grave . . . Babikov and his lovely wife . . .”

  Talanov’s mouth fell open while Jingfei told Talanov about the spyware. She then fast-forwarded the recording to where Shaw bellowed, “This is Angus Shaw,” then, after another quick fast-forward, “You’ve got one hour, Talanov, and that’s it. One hour for you, those kids, and that Chinese bitch to get back on my plane or I kill your friends. That’s Babikov, his wife, your girlfriend . . . and Wilcox. That’s right, Wilcox dies, too, if you do not stop what you’re doing and get back on my plane. One hour. Or all of them die.”

  “That’s why I needed Shaw to identify himself and vocalize his threats,” said Jingfei, returning the phone. “I needed Shaw to incriminate himself. Which we now have on tape.”

  “I didn’t know spyware could do something like that.”

  “Mine can. Uploaded automatically to the cloud for all of posterity.”

  “And I know just what to do with it,” Talanov replied, dialing a number.

  Half a world away, Diane Gustaves was asleep in her upstairs Georgetown bedroom when her phone began vibrating on her bedside table. The blackout curtains were drawn and the room was in absolute darkness save for the glowing red numbers on a digital clock.

  The repeated, intermittent vibrating finally awakened her and she leaned over and switched on a lamp, annoyed at having been yanked from one of the best sleeps she’d experienced in months. The wood of the bedside table amplified the vibration and made it sound like a woodpecker.

  Gustaves picked up the phone and touched the answer button. “This had better be good,” she said.

  CHAPTER 71

  Zak loved the mountains. He had spent a lot of time in the mountains and loved everything about them. The fresh air. The changing seasons. The remoteness. The fragrances of early morning, before the sun had risen, while mists still hung in the air. Yes, he loved the mountains because the mountains had always represented freedom. They made him feel alive.

  Except now. Now they were his prison, and they would be his final resting place.

  Although Zak was at peace with God, which meant he was at peace with the idea of dying, he was not at peace with what these beagles would do to Emily and Ginie. When they had beaten him the first time, it had been for the video camera . . . for effect. Then they saw him praying and began beating him more savagely while mocking him about turning the other cheek. “Where’s your God now, Pilgrim?” they would ask before punching him in the face or hammering their rifle butts into his stomach. Eventually they grew tired of his quiet acceptance and retired to the front of the SUV to eat energy bars and tell crude jokes about what they would do to the women.

  Through swollen eyes, Zak could see the beagles had relaxed. Their assault rifles were standing at their sides and there was no expectation of trouble.

  If your enemy has a weakness, he thought, it is in the blind spot created by their weapons. It was an axiom he and Talanov had used many times through the years. He just hoped it worked for him now.

  While kneeling on the pile of rubble he’d dug from his grave, Zak had been discreetly but steadily sawing the strap of his zip-tie on the edge of a rock. The beagles had been careless in positioning them facing the SUV, where they could see their faces whenever they switched on the headlights. That carelessness would cost them, because it had enabled him to keep working the zip-tie without being noticed.

  Zak felt the plastic snap.

  With his wrists now free, Zak knew he needed a diversion, and Ginie would be a natural choice to help him create one. Fearless and smart, she had an instinct for spontaneously going with the rhythm of a situation. She also had a flair for the dramatic. Emily, on the other hand, would need everything spelled out for her, and even then he was not sure she could carry it off. Violence was abhorrent to her – as it was to most people, himself included – but Emily had the naiveté to believe it should never be employed. Which worked so long as someone else was willing to pay the price. Without doubt, Emily was fearless in a courtroom, especially where social injustice was concerned. This, however, was not a courtroom. This was an execution site in the mountains, where the victors would live and the losers would die.

  The headlights of the SUV were off now although its parking lights were still on, which Zak knew afforded him a measure of protection, but not total. He still had to be careful with his movements.

  Bowing his head, Zak breathed a silent prayer for help. He needed to speak with Ginie without the beagles overhearing him. He knew the beagles were planning to kill them.

  If now is my time to reap what I have sown, so be it, Zak prayed. But I ask you to help me stop these men.

  Moments later, a cool evening wind began blowing through the trees.

  With the sound of the wind masquerading his voice, Zak leaned slowly to the side and whispered in Ginie’s ear. It was important that Emily did not hear them, and it was doubtful that she would, being three feet on the other side of Ginie, her chin to her chest, sobbing, her long hair draped like curtains on each side of her face.

  “Zak, no!” Ginie whispered back. “If something goes wrong, they will kill us.”

  “They will kill us, anyway,” Zak replied. “This hole that I dug is our grave.”

  “They said they wouldn’t hurt us.”

  “If that were true, then a grave would not be necessary. They are going to kill us, Ginie.”

  “I can’t risk losing you. You’re like the father I never had.”

  “And I love you like a daughter, which is why I will do anything to keep these men from violating you and Emily. B
ut to do that, I need your help.”

  Ginie fought back tears. Fought the overwhelming urge to keep pleading with Zak. But she knew Zak was right. The hole in the earth behind them was their grave. “Okay,” she whispered. “What do you need me to do?”

  “This could hurt. Your head . . . your nose . . .”

  “I’ll be okay. What do I do?”

  Zak told her and slowly straightened. Fifteen seconds later, Ginie began to cry, and before long, her wails grew louder.

  “Shut up!” commanded Alpha from the front of the SUV.

  “I’ll try and calm her down,” Zak called back, then turning to Ginie and saying in a loud voice, “Ginie, please, settle down. We’re going to be okay.”

  “Settle down? They’re going to kill us, Zak!”

  “It’s not us they want,” said Zak. “They said they wouldn’t hurt us.”

  Ginie’s wails grew louder.

  “I said, shut up!” Alpha shouted. He reached in through the open window of the SUV and switched on the headlights. They bathed the area in a wash of brilliance. Zak and Ginie both squinted and turned their heads. Emily, whose chin was still resting on her chest, hardly moved.

  “I’m so sorry I got you into this,” Zak said, his hands still behind him.

  Ginie’s wails diminished to intermittent sobs. “It’s not your f-fault,” sniffed Ginie, rivulets of tears now streaking her face. “But p-please don’t tell me to settle down when you know what those monsters are planning to d-do.”

  “Our lives are in God’s hands,” said Zak, his head bowed, as if in prayer.

  “And you actually believe that shit?” Alpha called out with a laugh.

  “Zak is a good man,” Ginie called back defiantly. “You pick on women. You tie them up and then beat them when they can’t defend themselves. I really don’t have words to describe the kind of cowards you are.”

  “Watch your mouth,” snarled Alpha. He started toward Ginie but Bravo held him back.