Reign of Coins (21 page)

True. But, I certainly didn’t agree with the ‘why’ behind Roderick’s decision to contact the agency’s bigger bosses in D.C.

“Come quickly, Mr. Barrow and his father!” urged the kid, who preferred the name Stephen to his birth name, ‘Jeong Chan Lee’. “The ship is ready to leave!”

I almost grabbed my son’s arm to keep him from climbing the ramp. My gut said it would be the smart thing. Not only did I fail to listen, I ignored the nervous smile on little Stephen’s face. In the glow emanating from the salon, along with the deck lights just turned on, several streams of sweat coursed down both sides of his face. The temperature had become much cooler since sunset, so unless the kid had recently finished a fairly intense workout, his sweat came from acute terror.

“Where is Sulyn?” asked Alistair, as soon as we stepped onto the deck. “Are you okay? Stephen’s your name right?”

No, he didn’t look okay. And,
my
kid should’ve stayed with Roderick. The heaviness in my gut worsened by the second.

Stephen’s hand shook as he disengaged the ramp. Then something whizzed by my head, followed by a sharp ‘thunk’. Alistair and I both turned in time to see Stephen’s lifeless form fall backward into the harbor as the ship pulled away from the pier. He probably never knew what hit him, as his glassy stare was more relaxed than his expression had been before the bullet penetrated his forehead.

“Well, isn’t this nice. The two assholes I’ve looked forward to killing the most have saved me the extra trip to track them down,” said a familiar frigid voice. “But first, how about a little treasure hunt, William and Alistair? Hmmmm? After all, you’re just in time.”

A small curl of smoke rose from the silencer attached to the same Steyr pistol I saw the other night. His luminescent blue eyes made him look even more predatory, or perhaps it was something else beyond the mere physical presence of this fiend. Whatever, my loathing of such profound evil—as well as Alistair’s abhorred expression—seemed to especially please him.

Viktor Kaslow smiled.

Chapter 21

“This is beyond delightful!”

Christian Morrow threw back his head as if giving in to an uproarious fit of laughter. But, he caught himself and angled over to the bar to refill his Scotch on the rocks. My favorite drink, as it has been for more than a century. And, yet, realizing I now shared my preferred beverage with such a loathsome character stripped the luster.

At present, our prospects seemed grim at best. Facing the threat of ending up like little Stephen was enough to ensure Alistair’s and my full cooperation. Kaslow had brought us inside the salon, and I banked our immediate survival on the fact this monster had gone to some trouble as far as keeping things relatively clean. Most of the crew that had accompanied our journey earlier was absent, except for those whose seafaring knowledge was indispensable. I doubted Cheong Sulyn had skimped on that arrangement—especially when traveling at night, as superior navigation and security skills were necessary. Thinking of the terrible fear on Jeong Chan Lee’s youthful face less than twenty minutes ago, the poor kid had likely seen other employees of Sulyn disappear into the harbor in similar fashion to what would happen to him.

“What are you going to do with us?”

Sulyn sounded subdued, broken by the man who had badly disrespected her at the convention. Her upper lip bled. The same telltale swelling and bruises her grandfather bore now covered both cheeks—a sure sign Kaslow marked his conquered turf. Like Alistair and me, her hands were tied tightly behind her. Smaller strands from shredded deck rope had been used to ensure the knots were damned near impossible to break, unless one’s arms were stuffed with steroid-laced muscles.

We were seated on a long couch facing the bar, and two men in dark business suits whom I didn’t recognize kept watchful eyes upon us. Both were of Middle Eastern descent, perhaps Syrian? Kaslow stood by the salon’s main entrance, keeping a watchful eye on the rest of Sulyn’s staff manning the yacht’s bridge. He and his boss were dressed casually in jeans and polo shirts, which did nothing to soften their abrasive personalities. The most expensive Serge Lutens cologne will never cover up the stench of a rotting soul.

Four fiends against the three of us—odds that on occasion have worked out to my favor. Of course, that entailed having one’s limbs free to be used when needed. But there was also someone else in our presence:
Lao Wee Kiat James.

He sat at the opposite end of the bar from Morrow, nursing what looked like a stronger whiskey concoction. He appeared pensive and worried, dressed in what I’d decided was the preferred slovenly business attire he’d worn throughout the week. He shied away from Sulyn’s angry glances. No one needed to tell me Mr. Lao was up to his plump dimpled cheeks in this shit. Not only had he betrayed the knowledge of the map and stylus that claimed more than two-dozen innocent lives in a single day, but he assuredly also brought Morrow and his three henchmen to the pier.

“I have yet to decide your fate, little lady,” said Morrow, chuckling after taking a long drink from his Scotch. “For now, your distress amuses me, and so it suits me to keep you alive for entertainment. Fear not…I will grow tired of you and your Hong Kong stench—certainly by dawn. You can join the rest of your friends in the sea for all I care.”

“Should I assume the same fate awaits the rest of us?”

Alistair sounded just like the ‘Big Tam’ Connery, and my son’s coolness and brazen defiance in his tone greatly impressed me. Morrow said nothing. Instead, Kaslow spoke. Actually, I was surprised Viktor didn’t come over and bitch slap my boy for his smart mouth.

“Oh, I wouldn’t assume anything at this point, Mr. Barrow,” said Kaslow, his tone an unsettling combination of mirth and acid. “You should well understand there are things far worse than mere death.”

I felt the chill resonating through Alistair. I doubt my son had told Sulyn anything about the personal horror he endured in Kaslow’s ‘torture trailer’ hidden away in Iran’s Alborz Mountains last year. He’s never discussed any of it with me either.

“Hasn’t your rebirth as an even more wretched monster taught you to fear The Almighty?” I taunted Kaslow, wanting to pull his attention from my son. I silently prayed for a miracle—even just a morsel to give us some leverage. “The emptiness in your soul will grow deeper and deeper until there is no escape from Sheohl.”

We needed something, and needed it quickly. Surely Roderick was aware of our predicament, and I wondered what he intended to do about it. He could do little on his own, since we were dealing with an armed immortal that could kill us—and Roderick—with his bare hands if so desired. It would take an entire team of trained assassins to take out Morrow’s latest henchmen and stun Kaslow long enough for us to possibly escape.

“William…or rather,
Judas!”
he sneered. “I fear nothing and care even less for your myths and superstitions!”

“Then what do you believe in?” asked Alistair. “If it isn’t some spiritual higher power, then you are to be pitied as the most miserable human being ever to walk this earth.”

My heart nearly stopped beating. I thought Alistair would be dead in an instant. Kaslow glared at him with his gun’s laser sight trained upon my son’s forehead. I would’ve wagered my entire net worth I was about to lose him forever. The wait for what came next turned excruciating. But Alistair remained calm, and his breathing was the opposite of Sulyn’s short shallow breaths. He was at peace.

I think if my boy had reacted any other way he would’ve died right then, likely leaving Sulyn next in line for a bullet hole to the head. Certainly, Morrow already had everything he needed. We were all dispensable.

Alistair’s response drew a nervous twitch along the corners of Kaslow’s mouth. He lowered his gun.

“Pitied?” he said, snickering. “Perhaps we should show you what no human has seen in eight hundred years, eh? Killing you inside the cave that holds such treasures might bring a more satisfying demise for you three.”

“They could be the first to perish from my new toy!” Morrow glared at me especially. “I am told that you, Mr. Iscariot, will be transported into some other place and time if your present body is compromised beyond repair. How about we let you experience a slight demonstration of the mantle’s strength to send you on your way? The fate of your son and his new girlfriend will forever remain a maddening mystery for you!”

Now he did laugh. Uproariously.

“I guess that leaves just you, James!”

Mr. Lao suddenly lifted his eyes from the drink he continued to nurse. Kaslow pointed his pistol toward Lao’s mid section.

“What?!
This is
not
what you promised! I have done everything you asked, and have been a
faithful
servant to you!” he pleaded. When he received no response from his ‘boss’, other than rolled eyes and a bored expression, Kaslow took a step toward where Lao sat. Lao immediately stood up, knocking over his stool while raising his hands defensively. He looked around madly for help, or more likely someplace to flee. There was nowhere to go. “What about all of the research you had me do that could’ve cost me my job, or had me killed by Cheung Yung-ching? Kill
them
for getting in your way!”

His shaking hand moved from Sulyn to Alistair, and finally to me.

“You are a
fucking
snake!” she hissed at him. Our diminutive debutante carried admirable bite after all. “Because of your greed, James, my cousins are dead! They were just
children!
Their entire lives were snuffed out because
you
were willing to share our family’s secrets with these ‘
sha shous
’!”

“Step over to the door, or you’ll die now,” Kaslow told Lao, his voice low and menacing.

With his knees knocking together, Lao followed Kaslow’s command while pleading fervently for mercy. Kaslow ignored the cries, pleading, whining, and the small cloud of urine that had darkened the front of Lao’s gray pants. Instead, he brought the gun closer and motioned for his next victim to move through the open doorway.

The moon seemed brighter, illuminating the deck and surrounding water as the ship moved up the channel toward the cape. Meanwhile, Lao squeezed his substantial girth through the narrow exit, and I was struck by the absurd irony of how we all cling to the slimmest hope—even if there really isn’t any—when our lives are at stake. As soon as he stepped out of the salon, he pleaded even harder. Kaslow put a bullet through his heart and his head and turned back to face us before Lao collapsed dead on the deck. The Russian wore a bored look, as if he had just deposited the trash outside his home.

The yacht leaving Tolo Harbour eliminated the need to be tidy. There’d be a much bloodier mess in the cave if we didn’t experience a miracle before Morrow and Kaslow collected their prize.

“We’ll soon reach our destination,” Morrow advised, pouring himself another drink. “Would any of you care to join me?”

He raised his glass in salute after the tongue in cheek offer. Those who could’ve joined him declined, and we three prisoners looked on in silence. Nothing more to talk about, the ensuing silence became awkward. I sensed our ‘host’ wanted very badly to let us in on some additional secret, but waited for the right moment.

Finally, we reached our destination, as Devil’s Fist rose eerily out of the water ahead of us. The infamous marker for Wong Chuk Kok Tsui looked especially menacing beneath the moon’s glow.

“Ishtar and Adad, bring our prisoners and the little girl,” said Morrow, once the captain brought us close to the shore.

One of the henchmen moved over to a small closet near the bar and opened it. A child no older than eight years was inside, gagged and bound. She had been crying, though I was unaware of her presence on the yacht until that moment. He yanked her forcefully to her feet.

“Let her go, you bastard!” demanded Sulyn, restrained by the other thug. “She’s innocent and has nothing to do with this!”

“She might be innocent, but I’m not so sure she has nothing to do with this—especially if her daddy decides to talk,” said Morrow, calmly motioning to the captain standing outside the salon, whose face was filled with fear as he peered through the windows. “She will be our insurance policy, since it’s a long swim back to the city. I won’t need anything other than this vibrant, sweet young child to ensure the boat is waiting for Viktor and me when we return from our little expedition. In the meantime, shut Ms. Cheung up.”

Morrow removed Cheung’s map from his back pocket, where he had carelessly folded and stuffed it. Sulyn offered a stronger stream of obscenities until a gag over her mouth silenced them.

“And how do you propose to find this place?”

Really, my question wasn’t as stupid as one might suppose. After all, we were nearly in the exact same spot we had visited eight hours earlier. What could possibly change if we still had the same map to follow?

Morrow eyed me
wickedly. “Ahhh…I’m afraid the map is a better friend to me than to you, Judas.”

He pulled out an object from his front pants pocket. Even before Sulyn uttered a muted shriek, I knew it was the stylus mentioned by her and her grandfather. Made from pure gold, it included a brilliant sapphire upon its top. No telling what the damned thing was worth.