The Deaths of Tao (26 page)

You honestly need to get over it.
 

“I’ll get over it when you do.”

“Any hits on Dylan?” Jill asked.

“The fat bastard’s fallen off the face of the Earth.”

“Have you considered heading south to that Genjix operation?”

“I thought about it, but I don’t know. It’s a large port and we’re undermanned. Might be more than we can chew. We lost most of our supplies and are in pretty bad shape. There’s a lot of heat on us too.”

Jill picked up the piece of paper. “I got a name for you: Punai Corporation. Found some docs through the Department of Commerce. Much of it was redacted but that only shines a bigger spotlight on it. That means someone from up on high in this administration is covering for them. And of course, their primary refinery and export hub is in southern Taiwan. I don’t think it’s a coincidence. It should help narrow your search.”

“I’ll give it a shot.” Roen sounded so deflated. Jill couldn’t remember the last time he had sounded this insecure. Ever since she found out about Tao, Roen had tended to exhibit an overabundance of confidence.

“Listen, Roen, you take care of yourself,” she said softly. “You have a son. Remember that.”

There was a long pause.

“Jill, when this is all over, I want to talk. About us being us again.”

Something got caught in Jill’s throat. No words came out, and she suddenly felt the need to turn away and face the window. The last thing Wilks and Tammy needed to see was her crying at her desk. Wilks would fly into a rage and Tammy would gossip. Politics was a rough sport, and there was no place for crying in it.

“I have to go,” she said quickly, hanging up. She kept her face turned for several seconds.

Maybe we should talk about this. Marco is confusing you.
 

Jill wiped the tears falling down her face and breathed in sharply. “No he’s not, Baji. There’s nothing to talk about. Let’s get back to work.”

 

TWENTY-THREE

NEW MANAGEMENT

The war between the Cro-Magnons and the Neanderthals was wider in scale than any humans have seen since. There was little strategy and coordination, save for what the Quasing could coax out. It was genocide by any definition. By the end, only one species remained.
 

After the Cro-Magnon established their dominance, the next several thousand years became a time of great innovation. We harnessed our new tools and showed them how to bend fire to their bidding. We taught them how to follow the stars when they traveled and showed them how to cultivate the land for sustenance. Then in Mesopotamia, the Keeper, in all her wisdom, offered the humans a new gift: the written word.
 

Tao

 

Roen and the team stayed at the safe house for three more days. The men needed to recuperate from their dozens of minor and not-so-minor injuries. Jim complained of dizziness from his concussion, Hutch had cracked a tooth and needed dental work, Stan’s bullet wound festered, and Grant somehow came down with an intense itch that required a doctor. It ended up being gonorrhea. Ashish never returned and they were forced to presume him dead.

Roen had hoped to speak with Lin the next morning, but his hopes were dashed when he saw the empty couch. That was too bad; the team could have used his help. Not only was he familiar with Taiwan, he was easily one of the deadliest fighters in the world.

Roen knew better than to beg Lin to join the team, though. First of all, he’d be a terrible teammate. There was no way his master would follow Roen’s orders. Even when Lin was active, there was a reason he was a solo operative. Second of all, Lin was a man of his word. He took that whole retirement thing seriously and meant what he said about not being involved with the Prophus anymore. If his master felt his service to the world was done, it was.

The team had to be more careful now with a strong Genjix presence close by. This was the last safe house in Taipei and discovery would be catastrophic. Operations in Asia were inherently risky these days. Gone were the days when Prophus Command could ship support within twenty-four hours. Once a team was isolated, especially in the enemy zone of control, they were on their own.

For Roen, taking charge was a learning experience. In all his years as an operative, he had never owned a team. Sure, he had led tactical operations before, but this was a beast of a different nature. At first, he thought Faust would help run the day-to-day operations, but he was having a tough transition with Ramez. The two did not seem to get along and were waging a war of wills in Faust’s head. Roen pitied them both.

You should be glad you got lucky with such an agreeable Quasing.
 

“Pfft. I bet Ramez doesn’t put Faust on a diet right away and torture him with hot ass-kicking women.”

Admit it. You liked being beaten up by Sonya.
 

“You know what I wish? I wish I had trained Jill. Why wasn’t I allowed to again?”

Because Jill, as a political operative, cannot be seen as a battered wife. That and you know how she gets when you tell her to do something she does not want to. Not everyone is as malleable as you.
 

After the first two days, Roen decided he hated being the team lead. He never realized all the little things Wuehler did behind the scenes until he had to do them. Details from feeding the men to whose turn it was to wash the dishes to the guard duty schedule had to be considered. It was as if he had suddenly adopted a household of strong-minded teenagers and had to play stepfather to all of them.

He had to consider each man’s individual quirks and personality instead of thinking of them as assets on a mission. For instance, Stan, the straw-thin stick figure, ate three times more food than anyone else. Hutch might be a narcoleptic, considering how often he slept. And Grant with his gonorrhea... Well, now everyone knew where he disappeared to during his off hours.

“This sucks. It reminds me of my old desk job, except without the paperwork. And the pay. And any benefits.”

You start missing your old job at least once a year. At least you have the option of pulling yourself out of guard duty.
 

“That’s the worst part. Wuehler regularly took watch himself. I don’t get any perks being the boss. I doubt the lads would put up with me taking myself out of the rotation.”

The final nail in the coffin was their next plan of action: they had none. Or more specifically, Roen had none. They had exhausted all their leads on the Genjix operation and on Dylan. They were also now being hunted by the local authorities. The only thing they had to work with now was Jill’s lead and that unsubstantiated vague note from the unnamed gangster.

So after several days of laying low and recuperating, Roen finally decided on their next plan of attack. They were going to head out to investigate the Genjix operation in the south. It was their only lead after all, so it really wasn’t that hard a decision. Plan B did not exist. It did cheer the men up to finally be doing something.

By this time, Faust and Ramez had formed an uneasy truce, seeing how they were stuck with each other until death. Roen had originally thought that he was the only one who had had it rough with Tao. It gave him a little satisfaction to know that not all hosts got along swimmingly with their Quasing.

The next thing to do was move the seven surviving members of the team down to Hsinchu. Again, this was not as easy as it sounded. Seven foreigners moving around in public would be easy to spot. The syndicates could not be relied on for anything more than ammo. Most of the bosses were already too leery of the Genjix to offer much assistance.

And to top it all off, they were running low on money. For some reason, when Ray packed up the gear during the attack, he decided to grab the sniper rifle instead of the suitcase full of cash. That decision, on top of dentistry bills, doctor’s bills, and crime syndicate bills, put the entire team in a precariously poor financial position. Roen had to utilize whatever funds they had on hand to restock their supplies.

By the end of the week, the team was almost broke. He was tempted to put them all to work as waiters or dishwashers at restaurants. He’d get a mutiny on his hands in a second though. Roen racked his brain trying to find a workaround for all their woes. Finally, unable to come up with a solution, he decided to use their one get-out-of-jail card and grovel to Lin. His master would assuredly make this experience as painful and soul-sucking as possible, but he had little choice.

Roen had thought his master would maintain a low profile. After all, he had lived in hiding in a suburb of Chicago for over twenty years. Roen knew how much Lin valued privacy and wasn’t sure if he could even locate his master. Finding Lin, however, proved surprisingly easy. It seemed real bona fide Tai Chi masters were a big deal here. And that made Lin one of the biggest deals in the neighborhood. After an afternoon of inquiries at local Tai Chi hangouts, mahjong parties, and pachinko parlors, Roen found himself up a steep forested road in a mountainous region on the eastern side of the island.

A white tiled wall with a massive red iron gate surrounded the house. Next to the gate was an intercom, and to neither Roen nor Tao’s surprise, it didn’t work. There was a hidden camera on the southern corner of the wall that was blinking and following his movements, so someone in there was watching. It would be just like Lin to mess with him for fun.

After pushing the buzzer and waving at the camera for ten minutes, Roen took matters into his own hands. After all, as he often said, breaking and entering was his specialty. He wandered around to the northern perimeter, his fingers brushing along the cracked and moss-covered tiles. The wall on this side pushed up against a steep incline, which made scaling it a tad easier. A hop and a hurdle later, Roen landed softly on the other side and flattened into a crouch. Who knew what kind of crazy was in store for him here?

Roen found himself in the back of the estate, if you could call it that. The house was a large two-story behemoth that was easily twice as large as the others in the surrounding area. Roen didn’t begrudge Lin wanting something bigger after living in a tiny warehouse for twenty years.

The place looked typically Lin. There was a large koi pond populated with dozens of the large orange fish. An array of wooden poles rose from the water in a figure eight pattern. He crept along toward the near deck and peered into the window.

“Maybe he’s asleep.”

If he was, your constant buzzing of the doorbell will have woken him up. I am sure he is in a fine mood then.
 

“Damn! Tao, now I’m scared.”

You should be.
 

Roen decided against entering through the back door and climbed into the living room through the side window. It was quiet except for the wind whistling this high up in the mountains, and a chorus of cicadas chirping incessantly. Roen did a double-take and grinned at the same pinball machines and arcade consoles that lined the walls. And just like the old warehouse, in place of a coffee table was a circular fighting mat in the center of the room. Some things never changed.

“It’s dark. He’s either not home or asleep.”

So go check. Why did you suddenly become so indecisive?
 

“Look, I just broke into Master Lin’s house and don’t relish sneaking up into his bedroom and waking him up.”

Sounds like a good way to get yourself killed.
 

“No kidding. Lin is grumpy after a nap. Sounds like a recipe for suicide.”

Your options are either search for him or sit on the couch until he finds you. It is not that hard.
 

Napping on the couch didn’t seem like a bad plan. He could catch up on some sleep. But knowing Lin, he would receive a cruel wakeup. Best to try to get the jump on him. He glanced at the couch longingly; it did look comfortable.

It took Roen five minutes to creep up to the second story. He was sure Lin was waiting around the corner ready to jump out and box his ears. After all, the guy had spent two decades hiding not only from the Genjix, but also the CIA, KGB, and supposedly the still-functioning White Lotus Society. No one survived that many people trying to kill him for that long without being careful.

By the time he got into Lin’s bedroom, he was sweating bullets from anxiety. Thank God Lin wasn’t in his bed. That meant Roen didn’t have to wake him up. The wave of relief that washed over him was so palpable he almost giggled. Roen wasn’t afraid of much these days, but there would always be a mixture of awe, respect and fetal position terror when it came to Master Lin.

Search the rest of the house.
 

A few minutes later, he had searched the rest of the floor and come up empty. He did, however, find Lin’s torn-up coat on the rack and the old man’s soft slippers put away neatly at the top of the stairs. The old man never left the house without those. Roen began to suspect foul play.

Go get some fresh air. You are sweating like a pig.
 

Not a bad idea. Roen’s shirt was drenched. He stepped out onto the deck and felt the breeze coming down from the mountains. It was still jungle humid outside but much more bearable than in the city. He closed his eyes and inhaled and then slowly exhaled, counting down from fourteen, willing his heart rate to decrease. The urban legends of masters who didn’t sweat weren’t totally untrue. There were techniques that a person could train for to keep their heart rate low and their body temperatures regulated. A large heavy, hard object struck him right between the eyes.

“Gah!”

Roen fell to his knees, spun onto his back, and drew his pistol. Looking up, he saw Master Lin standing on the roof waving. A rock the size of a child’s fist lay next to Roen’s head.

You should have checked the roof.