Don Pendleton - Dragon Key

He walked past a fountain with two stone dragons flanked by tigers. The tigers, his zodiac animal, buoyed his spirits slightly. Chen, Wong knew, had been born under the sign of the rat, which meant he was skilled at survival, subterfuge and gathering money.

Wong passed by a series of trellises replete with winding stems of blossoms and caught sight of Chen, who was sitting on a bench in front of a row of cypress trees, holding a flower.

He looked more like someone’s benevolent grandfather than the merciless leader of the Sun Yang Triad, the largest and most powerful of the Chinese crime gangs. Chen had survived the Cultural Revolution, a forced exile in Hong Kong, the internal power struggles of the Triad and innumerable attempts on his life. But then again, he was a rat, and rats were nothing if not resourceful.

Chen’s mouth flickered into a smile, and he bowed his head slightly as Wong approached. Wong did the same and sat on the opposite end of the bench. They were close enough to hear each other’s words, but they wouldn’t look like acquaintances.

They sat in silence for perhaps half a minute. Wong was growing impatient when Chen finally broke the silence. “Is it not miraculous, the way the leaves turn toward the sunlight? Do you ever wonder if they can feel the warmth?” Chen laughed softly, his chuckle sounding like the flow of water over pebbles in a brook.

Wong had little time for the riddles of horticulture. “Have you found out anything?”

Chen’s laugh came again, but this time it reminded Wong of an erosive leak down a wall. Wong’s face twisted into an expression of displeasure as he turned toward the Triad boss.

“I asked if you had found anything.”

Chen turned his head so they were now face-to-face. “Of course I have, Comrade General.”

He turned back, folded his hands over his belly and sat there like a smiling Buddha.

“Chen, I don’t have time for your games. Tell me what you’ve learned.”

Chen continued to sit in silence, a peaceful smile gracing his lips as he twirled the flower in his hand. Just as Wong felt himself ready to explode, the other man spoke. “Do not worry. As the farmer plows the earth, its destruction lays the seeds for a new beginning.”

Another damn riddle. Wong made no attempt to hide his growing anger. “Damn you. Are you going to tell me or not?”

The older man’s smile did not alter. He raised an eyebrow and stared at the general for several seconds more. “Did they not teach you the value of patience in the military academy?”

Wong felt like wringing the old bastard’s neck. He shot a look at the guards—the two males facing outward, the female watching them. Wong considered the risk of giving Chen a hard slap, but the bodyguards would be on him in seconds, general or not. Thus, he refrained and snorted in disgust. “We shouldn’t be wasting time here. Someone might see us together.”

“Did I not say all was well?” Chen said. “My favorite disciple, Lee Son Yin, has watchful eyes. We are safe.”

“What about my money?”

“It has been recovered. It will soon be in my hands.” He paused. “And will be deposited in your special account, when the time comes.”

“And the dragon key?” Wong asked, trying not to sound too eager. Without the flash drive no deposits or withdrawals could be made.

“Some matters are more quickly resolved than others.”

So Chen didn’t have it. Wong swallowed hard and thought about this. “Do you know who arranged the theft? Who paid that woman?”

“I have my number one man working toward this discovery,” Chen said. “And its resolution.”

For a moment Wong wondered if Chen himself was behind the theft. The Triads controlled everything, including the prostitution rings, and had been arranging his Hong Kong liaisons for the past several years. But this was the first time something like this had happened. Surely, if Chen had planned a betrayal, he would have acted before this. Or would he?

“And the missile guidance system,” Wong said. “What about that?”

Chen sighed. “It is in the possession of the British and the Americans.”

“Americans?” Wong said. “We’ve just captured an American. A spy. He is being interrogated now.”

Chen nodded. “A fact of which I am well aware.”

Wong blew out a long breath and reached for his cigarettes. After sticking one between his lips and holding the lighter to it, he turned back to Chen. “What did you find out from that Russian whore?”

“In life, there is sometimes a certain unavoidable unpleasantness. Learn to dismiss it, as the water in the pond rolls off the back of the swimming duck.”

More platitudes, Wong thought. “Did she tell you who paid her to steal the dragon key?”

“She gave us the name,” Chen said.

Wong felt more than ever like lashing out, knocking the old fool to the ground, but he knew better. “Who?” he asked. “I’ll track him down and kill him myself.”

“That is not advisable.”

“What? Why not?”

Chen smelled the blossom. “Is it not a shame that our country’s recent economic progress has so poisoned our air, our land, our water?”

Wong was at the end of his patience. “I asked you a question. Who is he?”

When Chen did not answer immediately, Wong emitted a growl. “I’m waiting. And no more damn riddles, understand?”

Chen smiled and put his palms together in a prayer-like gesture, cupping the blossom in between. “I have offended you, and for that I am truly sorry. But as I said before, a wise man must not lose sight of his goal, lest he act with impetuousness.”

Wong drew deeply on the cigarette. What was Chen getting at?

As if he could sense the unasked question, Chen said, “The man who engineered the theft is familiar to you.”

Wong blew twin plumes of smoke out his nostrils. “His name. Give me his damn name. I’ll get it out of him.”

Chen’s smile did not lose its beatific grace. He shook his head fractionally. “Once again, remember that patience is the supreme virtue. It should first be considered that if something happens to this man, the dragon key could be lost forever, or delivered into the wrong hands.”

“I promise not to act with rashness,” Wong said. “But I need to know who he is. I need to know the name of the man who holds the knife to my balls.”

“As well you should,” Chen said. “Just give me your word you will take no action without first obtaining clearance from me.”

Chen held the ultimate trump card, but Wong still needed to formulate his own plan, just in case the Triad boss betrayed him. “I give you my word as an officer and general of the People’s Liberation Army.”

The smile vanished and Chen’s dark eyes shot toward him, staring from beneath their heavy lids.

“I repeat, the man who betrayed you must not yet be contacted or harmed,” he said. “Do you understand me?”

The Triad leader’s tone left no question as to who was in command. It was not a request. Wong suddenly realized that up until now Chen had been toying with him, allowing him to believe he was in charge. Now it was brutally apparent that the Triad boss controlled Wong’s fate. The general had little choice but to acquiesce.

“Yes,” Wong said. “He will not be contacted or harmed without your approval.”

Chen’s face softened into a smile. “Excellent. When men strive to overcome adversity, they must not work at cross-purposes.”

Wong was sick of the aphorisms, but he held his tongue for the time being.

“The man has been a thorn in your side,” Chen said. “And a problem for the Standing Committee, as well.”

Wong furrowed his brow in concentration, then suddenly he knew. “Han Son Chu?”