Dragon Head

by James Houston Turner

  “Ignore her,” Bravo said.

  “It’s not me you need to worry about,” said Ginie. “Our lives are in God’s hands. Yours . . . I’m not so sure.”

  Alpha and Bravo both laughed.

  “I take it you don’t believe me,” said Ginie.

  “You got that right,” Alpha replied.

  “Yeah, well, you may not believe in gravity, either, but take a swan dive off a cliff and see what happens.”

  Alpha and Bravo both snorted their derision.

  “Go on, give it a try, since you’re such know-it-alls!”

  “Don’t antagonize them,” said Emily, looking over at Ginie. “Don’t make things worse than they are.”

  “Worse than they are? They’re going to kill us, Emily. How much worse can it get?”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Yes, I do. This hole in the ground behind us isn’t a barbecue pit. It’s where they’re going to bury us.”

  Emily did not reply, and after a long moment of silence, Alpha switched off the headlights.

  “Zak, I’m sorry about not supporting you more,” said Ginie.

  “It’s okay,” Zak replied. “If I’d been more proactive, you wouldn’t have had to get all the grant money we needed to fix up the community center.”

  “Yeah, but I could have done more to help those kids. And I’m really sorry about that.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t encourage you more.”

  “For God’s sake, shut up!” yelled Bravo. “Enough with all the confessions.”

  “I’m also sorry about those oranges,” continued Zak. “I know you said you wanted them, but we just didn’t have the money.”

  “I’m sorry, too,” said Ginie. “I know I overreacted, but those kids needed oranges, even though Emily said they didn’t.”

  “What are you talking about?” said Emily.

  “Oranges,” Ginie replied. “Two lousy crates. I don’t know why you made such a big deal out of it. They would have cost, what, five bucks? Five dollars for two crates of oranges, but you had to go and raise a stink. Maybe it’s the lawyer in you. I don’t know. Maybe you don’t like oranges. But you know what? This isn’t just about you. Kids need oranges, although you probably think five dollars is way too much to spend.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” cried Emily.

  “Yes, you do,” Ginie replied. “You just can’t admit it. Why do you have to turn everything into an argument?”

  “I said, shut up!” yelled Alpha, switching on the headlights again.

  “Quit arguing, Emily,” said Zak, “or Ginie will do something impulsive and the guards will have to step in before one of you gets hurt. Just . . . quit arguing, okay?”

  “I’m not the one arguing,” yelled Emily defensively. “I’m not the one making up this nonsense about oranges.”

  “What have you got against oranges?” Ginie shouted back. “We were talking five dollars, Emily. Five lousy dollars. But you had to turn it into an argument, and now you’re doing it again. Why is everything an argument with you? I am sick of it, do you hear me, sick of it!”

  The high beams of the SUV were lighting up the area like a Friday night football field, with long shadows behind each of the three kneeling figures. Zak had his head turned away from the light, while Ginie was shouting at Emily, who was shouting back at Ginie.

  Suddenly, with a scream, Ginie rammed her shoulder into Emily, and the two women slid down the embankment into the grave, one on top of the other, where they began screaming and kicking.

  Alpha and Bravo moaned with irritation before walking over to separate the two women. Bravo had his assault rifle in hand but Alpha did not. He’d left it standing against the front bumper of the SUV.

  Arriving at the open grave, Alpha jumped down into the pit and began separating the two women. Neither he nor Bravo were expecting any serious trouble because the hands of the women were zip-tied behind them.

  Standing on the rim of the grave, Bravo was actually grinning at the sight of Alpha trying to wrestle the two screeching women apart. But they were rolling around and kicking, and separating them was proving difficult. If only he had his cell phone with him to record a video for future enjoyment.

  Suddenly Alpha’s phone started ringing from the hood of the SUV. At first Bravo did not hear it. But eventually he did and turned to go answer it.

  And that’s when Zak made his move.

  CHAPTER 72

  Dressed in a green and blue track suit made of lightweight parachute material, Gustaves ran down the steps of her brownstone and out to a waiting black Suburban, whose rear passenger door was being held open by Grady. With her cell phone to her ear, Gustaves nodded her thanks before sliding into the back seat, where her new assistant, twenty-three-year-old Becka Ford, was waiting with a notepad and several manila folders. Becka was dressed in jeans and a jacket. On her head was an OU baseball cap.

  After the call from Talanov, Gustaves had phoned Becka and told her to be ready in five minutes. Four minutes after that call, Becka was waiting at the curb for the two black Suburbans, which came roaring down the street. Both had emergency light bars concealed in their grillwork. Both light bars were flashing red and blue. Ten minutes later, the Suburbans picked up Gustaves and squealed off down the street.

  Gustaves was speaking with the president, and the president was doing most of the talking. Was Gustaves absolutely sure the recording was legitimate? The president had asked the question a total of seven times, and each time Gustaves repeated her affirmative answer before reiterating her trust in Talanov and Wilcox. Even so, the president found it hard to believe that Angus Shaw, the Director of National Intelligence, was involved in something like this.

  “Then please tell me how Shaw’s net worth, since his appointment by the previous administration, had climbed from less than a million dollars to more than forty million.” Gustaves paused briefly to let her words sink in, then continued. “Sir, I’ve known you for more than thirty years, and you and I both know a public servant does not make that kind of money in Washington unless favors are being sold. Obviously, I’m not in your shoes, so I don’t know what kind of pressure is on you to keep him in that position, but I’ve been locking horns with Angus Shaw for nearly a decade. Don’t get me wrong. A lot of that is to be expected. He’s a Democrat and I’m a Republican. We lock horns for a living. However, I know for a fact that Shaw lied before Congress about spying on American citizens. I know for a fact that Shaw sells protection and quid pro quo to certain foreign nations willing to pay and play by his rules. I also know that Shaw personally ordered the assassination of Saya Lee, the young woman who tried to kill me at the Monocle.”

  “What?”

  “Yes, sir, who we released from custody, ostensibly on a legal technicality in order to bait the people who hired her.”

  Gustaves then briefed him on the sting and how Federal agents, who were waiting in Saya’s apartment, apprehended the assassin sent to kill her late one night.

  “The assassin, of course, was more than happy to make a deal in exchange for his testimony on who had hired him, which was Shaw’s chief-of-staff, Adam Schiller. Once we hauled him into custody, Schiller was happy to make the same kind of deal. Want to know who he said ordered him to set up the kill?”

  “My God,” was all the president could say.

  “That’s right, sir: Angus Shaw. That aside, right now we’re in an emergency situation. Shaw will have Wilcox and the other hostages killed unless we take him into custody, and I mean tonight. Give me the authority to do that.”

  “You’ve got it, Diane, so long as you realize that you, personally, do not have the authority to arrest him. For that you’ll need the FBI.”

  “Of course, Mr. President, and I took the liberty of arranging that. Don’t worry, we’ll handle this by the book.”

  “Give Shaw the respect his deserves.”

  “Of course, sir, even though you and I may define that differently
.”

  After Gustaves clicked off, Becka showed her the screen of her notepad. “Here are the phone numbers you requested from Charlie, in descending order, with the relevant codenames, security questions, and responses.”

  “Thank you, Becka,” said Gustaves, who dialed the first of the numbers.

  “Does Charlie ever sleep?” Becka asked. “She sounded wide awake when I called, and she managed to get everything you asked in thirty minutes. I mean, some of this material is top secret. How does she do it?”

  “Charlie is Charlie,” Gustaves said with a smile, “although you may want to exercise caution around her with that baseball cap.”

  “Ma’am?”

  “OU . . . Oklahoma. Charlie and I are from Texas, although Charlie is a lot more rabid than I when it comes to football.” Gustaves suddenly turned serious when the phone she had placed was answered half a world away, in Hong Kong, by Zulu, who was seated in the passenger seat of a van parked near the Gulfstream. Behind the wheel was Delta.

  After identifying herself, Gustaves told Zulu to switch the phone to speaker, which Zulu did. A conversation then took place that lasted roughly thirty seconds. The call contained a series of questions and answers that were exchanged for security reasons. Gustaves then cited a special codeword that had just been sent to Zulu’s encrypted phone from the office of the President of the United States. That codeword allowed Gustaves to speak on behalf of the president.

  “Do you recognize that codeword and the office from which it originated?” asked Gustaves.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Zulu replied.

  “It’s been assigned for purposes of this particular situation as it relates to the removal of Angus Shaw as the Director of National Intelligence. As such, I have been granted the authority to overturn any and all orders issued to you by Mr. Shaw, either directly or indirectly. I am also authorized to issue new orders, which you will be expected to carry out. Do you understand and accept what I am telling you?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Is Mr. Wilcox in custody?” Gustaves then asked.

  Zulu looked nervously over his shoulder at Wilcox, who was seated in the back of the van. The van was a commercial variety, which meant the entire space behind the front seat was empty and available for freight, which in this case was Wilcox, whose hands were cuffed to one of the metal struts, with a piece of duct tape covering his mouth. When Wilcox heard Gustaves ask the question, he smiled beneath the tape.

  “Yes, ma’am,” answered Zulu. “He’s with us.”

  “Is he alive and unharmed?” asked Gustaves.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Is he being restrained against his will?”

  Zulu did not reply.

  “Is this Zulu or Delta I’m speaking with?” Gustaves asked in the absence of a reply.

  “It’s Zulu, ma’am,” he replied, glancing uneasily at Delta.

  “Well, Zulu, I have your entire profile right here, complete with military history, family history, bank records, phone records, credit card statements, gun registrations, martial arts training and ranks earned, educational history – my goodness, another Sooner from Oklahoma, with a three-point-nine GPA – plus photos of your gorgeous wife, Ashley, and your two adorable children. Rest assured, Major, I know everything about you, and your future at this moment, whether as a free man or an inmate of Leavenworth Federal Penitentiary, quite literally rests in my hands. So if Mr. Wilcox is not released within the next sixty seconds, and if he does not give me a glowing report about how wonderfully he’s been treated, a court martial will be the least of your worries. Am I clear?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, handing the phone to Delta, then quickly climbing over the seat back and hurriedly cutting Wilcox loose.

  “Excellent. I’m going to hang up now and make another call. When I phone again, Wilcox had better be the one who answers. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Zulu called out just as the connection was terminated.

  Gustaves closed Zulu’s profile and opened the master list of phone numbers again. “God, how I love Charlie,” she said to herself while the Suburban sped along a dark, curving rural highway. Behind them now were two more black Suburbans with flashing lights in their grills.

  The second vehicle had joined them at the last intersection. Inside that vehicle was Ed Purdue, the newly appointed

  Director of the FBI, whom Gustaves had phoned earlier. Purdue was a retired Army lieutenant-general who was forced to retire by the previous president for challenging Angus Shaw’s “naive and dangerous” sanitizing of intelligence reports coming out of Afghanistan and Iran, which Purdue knew to be false because on-the-ground intelligence reports said the exact opposite. So Purdue was not about to surrender this opportunity to place handcuffs on Angus Shaw.

  After dialing the second number on Charlie’s list, Gustaves put the phone to her ear and listened to it ring and ring.

  “Where are you Alpha?” she said as the phone kept ringing and ringing.

  CHAPTER 73

  At that very moment, two incidents were unfolding simultaneously. The first was in a clearing in the forested California foothills of the High Sierras. The other was in a Hong Kong restaurant called Vincenzo’s.

  In the forested California foothills, Zak had chosen his moment carefully. Thankfully, Ginie had taken his hint and created a scene, which hooked the involvement of the two beagles, and like dogs on the scent of a rabbit, the beagles had taken the bait.

  Alpha had already hopped down into the grave to pull the two women apart. For him, it had been an amusing sight, watching the two women grunting and thrashing, unable to do any real damage because their hands were zip-tied behind them. But enough was enough.

  The grave was roughly three feet deep, six feet long, and six feet wide. The SUV, with its headlights illuminating the area, was about twenty feet from the grave. Because they had been waiting for further orders from Shaw, Alpha and Bravo had laid their cell phones on the hood of the SUV, then stepped away to halt the wrestling match. Then Alpha’s phone started ringing, which neither of the beagles heard, at least not initially. That’s because there was so much enjoyable commotion happening down in the grave.

  By now, Zak’s knees were aching because he had been kneeling for so long. When he was twenty-five, he could kneel all day long. He wasn’t twenty-five anymore and his knees were screaming with pain.

  But Zak was accustomed to pain. He knew how to inflict it and he knew how to take it, as his mentor’s words from his military training came back him. Channel your pain. Let it empower you.

  And that’s exactly what Zak did when Bravo turned toward the SUV.

  Using his arms as counterweights, Zak rocked back onto his feet, which put him in a crouched position, and with two mighty steps, launched himself at Bravo in a flying tackle. Alpha saw Zak’s sudden movement, but it was so unexpected, his brain did not have time to react before Zak landed on Bravo’s back and dragged him to the ground.

  Alpha grabbed for his sidearm but Ginie kicked him in the groin. But because Ginie was lying on her side, the kick was not powerful enough to do any serious damage. It was, however, accurate enough to drop Alpha to his knees. Ginie then began kicking Alpha in the stomach with both feet, her legs pumping furiously like a piston engine at full throttle. Fighting his way free, Alpha climbed out of the grave and paused on all fours to catch his breath.

  Seeing Alpha pause on the rim of the grave, Ginie scooted her zip-tied hands down over her feet and up in front of her. She then scrambled to her feet, climbed out of the grave, and jumped on Alpha’s back just as he once again reached for his sidearm.

  “Meurtrier!” shouted Ginie in French, calling Alpha a murderer while circling her zip-tied hands around his neck.

  Arching backward and falling onto his side, Alpha grabbed at the plastic strap cutting off his air.

  “Emily, help me!” shouted Ginie while Alpha thrashed left and right, trying desperately to shake free.

&n
bsp; Emily continued to stare absently down at the dirt.

  While Alpha fought for his life, Bravo found himself trapped in a bear hug that had pinned his arms at his side. He tried a backward head butt, but Zak tucked his chin and the head butt missed.

  Zak knew he could not defeat the beagle with a bear hug. The beagle was twenty years younger and twenty years stronger, which meant there was no way he could squeeze hard enough to defeat him, which in turn meant they would roll around on the ground until Zak grew tired and the beagle broke free. He needed to deliver a knockout blow, but in order to do that, he needed to first let go.

  That moment was coming soon whether he liked it or not, because Zak could feel his arms weakening. He glanced over at Ginie, who had the other beagle in a chokehold. Sooner or later she, too, would grow tired. He had to act now.

  Zak saw Bravo’s assault rifle laying in the dirt four feet away, and Bravo was trying desperately to roll near it. So Zak log-rolled Bravo in the opposite direction. Over and over they tumbled, kicking up dirt until Bravo stuck out a leg and stopped them.

  Bravo then did something Zak did not expect. He curled up in a fetal position, tightly, like a knot. But it was not a position of surrender. It was designed to break Zak’s bear hug.

  And it did.

  Breaking free, Bravo hammered an elbow into Zak’s face, then scrambled on all fours toward his assault rifle, twelve feet away.

  Inside the grave, Emily blinked several times at all of the grunting and fighting. She heard Ginie screaming her name and looked up to see Zak and Ginie locked in battles with the two guards. An image came to her mind – of Ginie sliding her zip-tied hands down over her feet – and Emily instinctively did the same. With her hands now in front of her, Emily clambered up out of the grave just as Alpha head-butted

  Ginie in the face. When Ginie let go, Alpha climbed to his feet just as Emily ran over and punched him in the groin. When Alpha again fell to his knees with a moan, Emily repeated what she had seen Emily doing and looped her zip-tied hands around Alpha’s neck and yanked back.