Chapter Six
Jace Morgan had been just about everywhere in this man’s world, from above the Arctic Circle in Siberia to the deep jungles of Africa, and on every continent in between. He thought he’d seen just about everything too, but the situation he was currently heading into was one of the strangest ones he’d ever encountered.
It had started with a call out of the blue from Patrick Vanner asking if he was available for ten to fourteen days’ work around South East Asia. Figuring the intel specialist needed security or bodyguard work, Jace had checked his schedule and said sure, where and when.
“‘When’ is right now, and at the moment ‘where’ is a yacht currently sailing on the South China Sea toward Hong Kong.” Vanner had e-mailed him a first-class ticket from Singapore to Tan Son Nhat International Airport in Ho Chih Minh City. An escort there would take him to the helicopter that would ferry him out to the boat.
“Works for me,” Morgan had replied. Checking his ticket, he saw the flight left in four hours. Fortunately, he always kept a light duty bag packed, and had grabbed it, flagged down a motorcycle taxi, and headed for the airport. He’d lost an hour and fifteen minutes to the packed streets, and made it through security with ten minutes to spare.
The eighty-five minute flight had been uneventful; it was only when he landed that things had started to get a bit—unusual.
He was met by a spectacularly beautiful young woman, with eyes so deep blue Jace thought he might drown in them if he wasn’t careful, and lush brown hair braided into a single, thick rope that was draped over one shoulder. She was damned young—if she was twenty, he was a Thailand whoremaster—and was holding a small sign with “J. Morgan” on it.
Jace walked up to the young woman, his six-feet-three inches making her look up at his face.
“That’s me.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Morgan,” the young woman said in accented English, but didn’t extend her hand. “My name is Martya. Our pilot would like to get underway, so unless you have any more luggage to pick up…?”
“I’m ready to go.”
Martya looked around before leaning closer to him.
“Are you not carrying?”
The former Recon Marine kept his face deadpan.
“Weapons, drugs, or both?”
“Oh, I am sorry…I am not quite used to the language—”
“It’s all right, Martya, I’m not carrying anything.” He wasn’t crazy enough to try either, particularly in Singapore, where the drug laws made America’s look like a slap on the wrist.
“Is good. Follow me, please.”
“With pleasure.” Carrying his bag easily in one hand, Jace followed the slim girl out of Terminal Two, through the airport, and out the main entrance door, into the heat of an early Vietnamese fall. Outside the main building, she headed toward a cluster of hangars well away from the main runways. “Our helicopter is over here.”
“I’m right behind you.” Quickening his pace, Jace easily kept up with the smaller girl as they headed for a Eurocopter AS355 helicopter that was warming up as they approached. Another woman, dressed in cargo pants, t-shirt, and aviator sunglasses, stood at the passenger door, obviously waiting for the pair.
“Any trouble finding him, Martya?” she shouted over the din of the whirling blades. The slender girl shook her head as she climbed aboard.
“Co-pilot Tamara Wilson, former U.S.M.C! Pleased to meet another jarhead!” she shouted.
“The pleasure’s all mine!” he yelled back.
Tamara jerked a thumb at the passenger compartment.
“Climb aboard, I’ll stow your bag.”
“Can do!” Jace said as he stepped up into the rear of the aircraft, where his next surprise was waiting.
There were two other girls besides Martya inside, each as beautiful as she was. One was a stunning tiny blonde with perfect, milk-white skin who introduced herself as Xatia. The one beside her was freckled, but her skin tone, along with curly, bright-red hair, suited her emerald-green eyes perfectly. Her name was Tsira.
Besides a small seat for him, every other square inch of the passenger compartment was taken up by several cases of beer, a brand called Mountain Tiger. Jace had heard of it; some Eastern European microbrew, apparently selling like crazy in the States. Practically impossible to get in South East Asia, however.
“Everything all right back there, Captain?”
Jace looked toward the cockpit to see another woman on the stick. She was short and trim, with all the right parts in all the right places. He must have been staring, because her lips compressed into a thin line.
“Something wrong with the view, Captain?”
Jace scrambled to put on a pair of headphones. “No, ma’am, everything looks great from back here. I’m just wondering when I get to meet Auric Goldfinger.”
Tamara had gotten into the co-pilot’s seat in time to hear his remark, and both she and the pilot chuckled.
“Yeah, the Kildar gets that kind of reaction a lot. Don’t worry, Vanner will fill you in when we get there.”
“It hadn’t even crossed my mind,” he replied. Especially not with this view.
The two women completed their pre-flight check, and the helicopter lifted off smoothly and headed south, leaving the city behind and shooting forward over the endless South China Sea.
Settling back to enjoy the ride, Jace tried not to ogle the bevy of gorgeous babes surrounding him, which was hard work. They were also doing their best not to look at him, conversing in a language that sounded similar to, but not quite Russian. His list of questions for his old friend Vanner, however, was growing longer with each passing nautical mile.
What the hell is he mixed up in, he thought. And if this is who he’s working with, why the hell didn’t he contact me sooner?
* * *
“Patrick, the helicopter with the girls and Mr. Morgan is inbound. Kacey estimates they will be landing in approximately five minutes,” Greznya reported.
“Sweet,” Patrick said with a nod. “I can’t wait for him to see the place and meet the Kildar. Hey, Adams, whatever happened to your guy?”
The Master Chief, who was enjoying a bottle of Mountain Tiger while sprawled on a couch, smiled lazily.
“It turns out that he wasn’t available for what we needed. But he has something that the Kildar will like very much.”
He refused to say anything more on the subject, even when pressed. Vanner just shrugged and joined Greznya on the aft deck, which had been reconfigured into the helipad. A few minutes later, the Eurocopter came into sight and passed over the fantail, looping around to approach from the aft for a gentle landing. Kacey powered down the rotors, and the three female and one male passengers disembarked.
“Jace! Over here!” Vanner trotted out to meet his buddy, clapping his back in a hug. “How was the flight over?”
“Man, Singapore Air’s got nothing on these women!” Jace nodded at the three girls, each of whom smiled and nodded shyly back as Grezyna herded them inside. “You have got to tell me what you’re working on.”
“All in good time, buddy. First, why don’t you give me a hand?” Vanner walked back to the passenger compartment. “Grab a case or two—let’s get these babies on ice.”
Jace set his duty bag on top of two cases, picked them up, and carried them inside, trying not to gawk at the luxury yacht around him. The Big Fish was decked out in teak and white leather everywhere he looked. At least, everywhere that wasn’t taken up by unsmiling, solid, oddly good-looking men every few yards.
“Hand those off to Vanel and Edvin—thanks, guys,” Vanner said. “Come with me into the conference room, and we can catch up a bit. Greznya, please let the Kildar know our guest has arrived.”
Jace couldn’t help watching the young woman’s lush curves and pert backside as she strolled away, and let out a low whistle.
“Careful—that’s my wife you’re ogling,” Vanner said with a huge smile.
“No shit?! Jesus H. Christ, congratulations, man! When did you get hitched?”
“That…is a very long story most of which you don’t have the need-to-know,” Vanner said with a slight grimace. “This situation is…decidedly odd. But most things involving the Kildar are.”
“That’s the second time I’ve heard that name. Patrick, what in the hell’s going on here? Since when do you work for a Bond villain?”
Vanner led him into a plush room that had a long, oval table in the center, surrounded by several leather swivel chairs, each with an executive stationary set in front of them. A sweating bucket of beers on ice sat on the table.
“Drink first, answers second.”
Jace grabbed one of the bottles—it was another Mountain Tiger. He frowned at the wax seal on top, then grabbed a letter opener and carved the wax off. Uncorking it, he took a drink and almost gasped as the golden liquid hit his tongue.
“Goddamn, that’s good!”
Vanner nodded from his seat at the end of the table.
“It should be. That’s the real deal—the best-of-the-best Mountain Tiger beer, straight from the valley of the Keldara, in the Caucasus Mountains.”
“Okay, let’s see…Kildar, Keldara…wait a minute. I have heard of these guys. Are you working with those kick-ass fighters from Georgia? Something about pretty much putting paid to the last of the big Chechen militias? What are they looking for, an in-depth tour of Southeast Asia?”
Vanner leaned forward and opened a bottle of Mountain Tiger for himself.
“Close. Here’s what I can tell you…”
* * *
Ten minutes later, Jace leaned back in his chair, drained his bottle, and set it on the table.
“Okay, let me see if I’ve got this straight. Sometime during the Byzantine Empire, a group of marauding Celts, for lack of a better term, was captured by the Byzantines and turned into the personal guards of the Emperor. They were sent to what is now Georgia, to manage a remote tax post, and settled in this particular valley. The Empire falls, as they all eventually do, but no one tells the Varangians, who stay where they are and become farmers. They keep their customs and religion alive, and one of those involves the Kildar, a foreigner who’s their landlord-slash-warlord. These warrior/farmers have since been living in that particular valley for the past 15-odd centuries, until your Mr. Jenkins came along and starts rapidly bringing them into the 21st. Now he’s got roughly a company of ‘security specialists’ under his command, and, shall we say, helps out certain interested foreign powers when asked nicely. The woman are gorgeous, the men are handsome, they’re all hardcore, and they brew a helluva beer. That about sum it up?”
“Look, I know how it all sounds—I wouldn’t have believed it myself if I hadn’t seen some of the stonework in the caravanserai. Well, that, and heard the lyrics of their songs during their festivals. They’re the real deal all right, and the Kildar… Well, it’s the best job I’ve ever had, and that includes working for Uncle Sam.”
“It all sounds way too crazy to believe.” Jace nodded at the empty bottle. “However, I’ve only had one of these, and you’ve never been a good liar. Therefore, I can only assume that when the impossible is removed, whatever remains, however improbable, is the truth.”
“You got it, Sherlock. So, you interested?”
“Uhm, beer, girls and killing bad people? Hell, yes. Assuming I pass muster with your—Kildar, is it?”
“Right.”
Just then the door opened, and Vanner and Jace both stood up as an unassuming-looking man entered. He was fit, but fairly average-looking, standing about five-foot-ten, with brown hair and brown eyes. His demeanor, however, was the look of a man who knew what he wanted, and would do whatever it took to get it done. Jace respected the type, as they were vastly preferable to the other kinds of commanding officers he’d encountered during his tours—mostly either REMF limp-dicks or ass-kissers; or ROAD pussies just marking time ’til they were back in the world.
“Mike Jenkins, this is Jace Morgan,” Vanner said.
Jace held out his hand, which Mike took in a firm grip.
“A pleasure, Mr. Morgan. Patrick’s been telling me a lot about you.”
“I hope I can live up to the hype. Seriously, it’s good to be here, and thank you for the opportunity, sir.”
“Have a seat.” Mike watched Jace as he sat. “Not fond of the high-and-tight, huh?”
Jace swept his straight black hair back off his forehead. “It was the only thing I didn’t love about the Corps. Besides, why advertise my former profession that openly?”
“Point. I trust Patrick’s been filling you in on some of the details of our operation.”
“Only what I need to know at the moment, sir. I assume more details will be forthcoming if we come to an agreement.”
“Correct. What do you think about the duty we’d like to hire you for?”
“Just to make sure I understand the mission parameters, you’re looking for a guide to the general region, someone fluent in the languages, customs, tribes, politics, and everything else. I’ve spent time in just about every country in the region, ranging as far south as Australia and far north as Mongolia. I’m fluent in Mandarin, Cantonese, Burmese, Hmong, Japanese, Thai, Malay, and Vietnamese. I’m passable in Samoan, Lao, Wu, Min, Montagnard, and Tagalog. Area dialects will be catch-as-you-can, since even tribes living next to each other may have almost completely different pronunciations. Don’t even get me started on real village dialects. Most of them are completely different languages. Those…nobody knows all of those.”
Mike raised an eyebrow. “And I thought Vanner was a polyglot.”
“It’s a gift. And I’m primarily Asian.”
“Works.” Mike’s jaw worked as he consulted his iPad. “Your personnel file looks great—Marine Corps Expeditionary Medal, Navy and Marine Corps Commendation Medal, Expert across the board shooter. Four tours with 4th Force Reconnaissance Company out of Okinawa before the unit was deactivated, mainly in Southeast Asia.”
“Yes sir, both white and black ops.”
“Very good, as we have been known to pop a few caps when the need arises. With Vanner’s recommendation on top of that, I’d say you’re perfectly suited for the opening. The offer is twenty-five thousand dollars, plus expenses, and tax-free, for approximately two weeks’ work. Bear in mind that we keep very odd hours, so you’ll probably spend most of that time on duty. What do you say?”
“On board, sir.”
“Then welcome aboard, both figuratively and literally,” Mike said, holding out his hand. “Vanner may have mentioned that from time to time I’ve had the opportunity to do certain favors for the U.S. Government. The details of any previous ones are unimportant, but you’ve probably seen YouTube videos on us.”
“Yes, sir, particularly the op near Russia. I’m looking forward to meeting the members of your team. Those are some kick-ass SOBs.”
A peculiar expression crossed Mike’s face, but it was gone in an instant.
“Good. We’re doing another favor for Uncle Sam right now, babysitting a package as it heads to its final destination. The contents are specialized computer boards, which is all you need to know at the moment. We have about two days before we make Hong Kong—have to swing by Ho Chih Minh City to offload the helicopter. I suggest that you use that time to get familiar with our people and draw your weapons and gear. Vanner will fill you in on any other questions you may have.”
“Of course, sir, but I doubt all of that will take two days. What can I get started on in the meantime?” Jace asked.
“If you’re that eager, why don’t you review the in-country briefings that are going to be distributed to the Keldara for their details and accuracy? You can coordinate with Patrick and the girls on those as well. Also, what do you know about the black markets in the region?” Mike asked.
“I’m most current on Singapore and China in general, particularly Hong Kong, but I know people who know people. Tell me what you’re looking for, and I’ll see what I can find out.”
“We’re supposed to be meeting with an ‘Arun Than’ in Hong Kong. I’d really like to know everything about him before we reach port,” Mike replied.
“Understood. I’m on it.”
“Good, I look forward to the briefing. Patrick, when you see Adams, send him my way and tell him the position’s been filled.”
“I will, but he’ll probably find you first. Said his guy wasn’t available, but he had something else you’d want to know about. If we see him, I’ll boot him in your direction.”
“All righty.” Mike stood up and nodded at both of them. “Time to go talk like a pirate. Or at least to one.”
Jace and Vanner both stood as well. Once the Kildar had left the room, Jace turned to Vanner.
“Hey, did I put a foot in it by mentioning Russia? I mean, that footage that made the Internet was almost as unbelievable as your story about the Keldara.”
“That op was a hard one,” Vanner said with a shrug. “We lost a lot of good people on it. Don’t worry about it—you couldn’t have known.”
“Acknowledged. Either way, I have the feeling that life is going to get a lot more interesting.”
“You don’t know the half of it. So what’s up with you? Not happy transferring back to 1st CivDiv?”
“Yes and no. It’s the old saying all over again: when you’re in the shit, all you want to do is complete the mission and get out, and when you’re out, all you think about is when can you go back in.”
“Spoken like a true leatherneck. Come on, let’s head below and get your 782 gear,” Vanner said.
“It’ll be good to get my hands on an MEU again. Maybe you guys even have a Kimber model for me. Think we’ll be needing anything heavier?”
“Hard to say at the moment. You prefer an M4?”
“You know I can use it, but I prefer a shotgun with a mixed load for anything in the bush. Benelli’s fine, or a Mossberg or Remington if that’s not available.”
“Let’s go see what we got. On the way, I can tell you the bad news about most of the girls…”
* * *
Vanel was walking down to the impromptu mess hall that had been set up for the Keldara, intending to get his meal and eat up on the main deck. Along the way, he passed Vanner talking to a tall man with jet-black, shoulder-length hair and dark blue eyes.
“And here’s one of them now. Vanel Kulcyanov, this is Jace Morgan. Jace will be working with us while we’re in the region.”
Vanel shook the taller man’s hand.
“Is pleasure to meet you, sir.”
“You too, Vanel.” The two men continued on their way, and Vanel continued on his. His next surprise, however, almost took his breath away—literally.
“Hello, Vanel,” a soft voice said on his right as he entered the mess hall.
“Xatia?” Vanel stared the small girl for a few seconds before closing his gaping mouth. “What are you doing here?”
“Sergeant Vanner requested more intel girls to come here. When volunteers were asked for, I said yes.”
“Oh…of course.” Vanel tried to get himself under control. He’d known other girls were inbound, but not why, although he should have put two and two together. He certainly hadn’t expected Xatia to be one of them.
“Is something wrong?” the girl’s lush lips compressed in the cutest pout he’d ever seen. “You do not seem happy to see me.”
“No! I mean, no—I am, uh, very pleased that you are here. It is, um, very good to see you…” Aware that he was babbling, Vanel jerked his head toward of the mess hall. “I am going to get something to eat. Would—would you care to join me?”
“I cannot, Gretznya is going over current operations with us—oh no, I should have already been there! Do not worry, I won’t tell anyone you were the reason why I was late!” Before he could reply, the short, shapely girl turned and ran down the hall, leaving a dumbfounded Vanel staring after her.
“That is quite all right! You could tell anyone you wanted…” His words trailed off, and Vanel felt a blush heat his cheeks. He glanced around, hoping no one had seen him just make a complete fool of himself. His heart pounded, and blood rushed through his ears. The feeling was as just as intense as combat, but for a completely different reason.
Vanel had had a crush on Xatia Mahona ever since he had first laid eyes on her, when she was five and he was six. From that moment on, he hadn’t looked at another girl. They had grown up together, and for the past year he has been working up his nerve to begin the request for her betrothal. Two things stood in his way; first, he had wanted to pass his first test of combat. The farming he knew like the back of his hand, but he had wanted to face and conquer the test of blood.
The second one was much more difficult; facing Xatia’s parents, particularly Mother Mahona. With any luck, his parents would talk to hers, and he wouldn’t even have to be present. That was how it had been done for generations, and who was he to mess around with tradition?
Shaking his head, Vanel walked into the mess hall to find two other members of his team, Yosif and Marko, sitting before full plates. While the Keldara families often ate together, the Kildar had mandated that while on operations, especially ones with a flexible timetable, food should be available at all times for team members. And the chef that had come with the Big Fish was very adaptable. Although many of the Keldara were open to trying new foods, they also appreciated a taste of home—even if it wasn’t anything close to what their own Mothers could cook up.
“Glad to see you could leave your cover long enough to join us, new fish,” Marko teased. Yosif’s and his encounter with the shack wall was already fodder among the teams, with them already suffering a good amount of ribbing.
Vanel simply shrugged as he joined them.
“Was not our fault reinforcements were too slow to help us to finish sweep. We simply made ourselves comfortable while waiting for you.”
Marko snorted, while Yosif smiled at the comeback.
“Have you heard the news?” the team leader asked.
Having just taken a large bite of his golubtsy, or stuffed cabbage roll, Vanel shook his head.
“We are to stay in this area for at least ten days, maybe even a fortnight.” Yosif looked around to make sure no one else was listening. “I even heard from Daria that we are heading to Hong Kong.”
“Where’s that?” Vanel asked.
“Former British colony city that was ‘given’ back to China in 1997. Check the e-mail on your tablet, it’s all in the summary the girls worked up. Also, there is a new officer on board—”
“Yes, a Jace Morgan,” Vanel said. “I was introduced to him in the hallway by Sergeant Vanner.” He tried not to look too pleased by the surprised expressions on his teammates’ faces. Instead, he took another bite of the cabbage roll. Not even close to Mother’s, he thought.
“You met him?”
Vanel swallowed his food and nodded.
“I am sure the lieutenant was simply being polite.”
“Anyway, you are supposed to please review the data and let me know if you have questions. You can also follow up on your iPad if you wish.”
“Of course.” The other two kept talking, but Vanel’s mind was whirling with the possibilities. Ten to fourteen days more on boat…with Xatia!
A broad smile spread across his face as he took another bite of the cabbage roll, suddenly not minding its taste in the least.
* * *
Wiping blood from his fingers with a towel, Mike handed the wet cloth to Dmitri as he left Yeung Tony’s room, his blood boiling.
Usually interrogations were pretty easy. Since the subject only had to live long enough to give up the necessary information, there were no restraints on how far Mike could go to extract said information. The Albanians and Russians had been pushovers—a couple shots to a knee or elbow with a sledgehammer or pistol, and they cracked like walnuts.
But Yeung Tony was proving to be another story. Unfortunately, Mike did need him alive for now, since it would be impossible to set up a meeting with Arun Than by himself. Without Tony to vouch for him, they’d get nowhere. Unfortunately, the Malay seemed to have also figured that out, and was being as difficult as possible without getting himself killed.
Mike had been working on the pirate for the last hour, trying to make him more cooperative, but after a soldering iron applied to several areas, improvised tooth extraction, and several other persuasion techniques, the fuckhead was still resisting. He’d given up everything—except how to contact Than.
Taking a break, Mike stalked down the corridor of the yacht, figuring he’d go visit Tony’s whore. Maybe she would see reason where her boyfriend did not—and even if she didn’t, he would have a hell of a time trying to convince her.
As Mike walked through the corridors of the opulent yacht, greeting various Keldara as they passed, he began cooling down. To the point where he decided a change of plan was in order. He called the kitchen to get an update on a very specific dinner for two he’d ordered earlier that afternoon. Then he went to his stateroom, shit, showered, and shaved, and threw on tan linen slacks, a black silk button-down shirt, and woven deck shoes.
When he received word that the meal was ready, Mike told them where to deliver it, and strolled down to where Soon Yi was being held.
Oleg was on duty there, and stiffened to attention as Mike approached.
“Oleg.”
“Kildar.”
A rattle made Mike look down the corridor, where a crewmember, pushing a wheeled cart, approached. “Right on time. I am going inside to interrogate the prisoner.”
The big man was already unlocking the door. The service person stopped at the two men. “Everything is here as ordered, sir.”
Mike nodded. “Thank you. I’ll take it from here.”
A frown crossed Oleg’s face as he took in the place settings, covered dishes, and bottle of wine chilling in a bucket of ice. “…Kildar?”
“Yes, Oleg?”
“All this is necessary to interrogate the prisoner?”
“There’s a saying back in the States; if you can’t dazzle ’em with brilliance, then baffle them with bullshit.”
A blond eyebrow raised at the phrase. “Surely that is not what you are serving to her—”
Mike chuckled. “Hardly.” He lifted the largest tray to reveal a succulent roast duck in orange sauce, with Chinese 5-spice added for a bit of kick. “Katya told me she didn’t touch any of the food or drink we gave her earlier. Simply put, yesterday we tried hard, now I’m trying a—softer approach.”
“Very well, Kildar.” Oleg opened the door for him.
“Thank you.” Mike paused in the darkened doorway. “There will be no need to open this door unless I specifically order you to, understood?”
Oleg nodded.
“Yes, Kildar.”
He slipped inside and closed the door, hearing the huge Keldara lock it from the outside. Mike stood with his back to the entrance for a moment, letting his senses adjust to the room. Shapes began to materialize in the gloom—a sheet-covered form in a corner of the bed, a chair in the middle of the room. Sounds came to him as well—the most important one being the steady breathing of the person in the bed.
Mike was ninety percent sure she was faking it.
Anyone who lived on the streets developed a subconscious awareness of their surroundings almost immediately. Those who didn’t, died—it was that simple. Soon Yi had been around the block, and Mike was sure she had awakened the moment the door had opened. The big question now was would she come at him soft or hard. If he’d broken her with the waterboarding, she would be soft. If not, she’d come at him hard. If Mike had been a betting man, he’d have said hard.
Time to remove the option, he thought. Mike hit the lights and wheeled the cart into the center of the room. He saw the sheet tremble a bit, but she didn’t move.
“I know you’re awake under there, so you might as well come out. I brought dinner.” Mike removed the cover again, letting the heavenly fragrance of roast duck waft over to her. Smaller dishes held saffron rice and an array of fresh tropical fruit.
Slowly, Soon Yi’s head emerged from underneath the sheet. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to eat. Why don’t you join me? There’s plenty here, and you must be starving by now.” Grabbing the wine from the ice, Mike examined the gewürztraminer with a cocked eyebrow. He would have preferred a beer, but the chef had politely but firmly insisted on pairing the wine with their meal. He checked underneath the table. There, as instructed, was a second bucket filled with iced bottles of Mountain Tiger. With a shrug, he tore the foil off, then began uncorking it.
“No…I mean, why are you doing this?” she asked.
“Because I’m hungry.” Freeing the cork with a pop, Mike filled both wine glasses. He set the bottle back down in the bucket and grabbed the chair from the make-up desk. Setting it down, he picked up the carving knife and fork and pointed with the knife at the edge of the bed across the tray from him. “Come. Sit. Eat.”
Without waiting for her to move, he began expertly carving the duck breast. It was quite easy, since the meat was falling off the bone. “Maybe I will keep the chef onboard a while longer,” he muttered.
Even while carving, Mike was aware of the woman as she slowly crawled to the edge of the bed. She was wearing a short, dark blue silk robe that had been among the clothes they had supplied her with. He heard her pick up the butter knife that was part of her place setting, exchange it for the fork, then exchange that for a pair of chopsticks.
“Wise decision.” He looked up, making her flinch, and smiled. “Shall I serve?”
She stared at him through slitted eyes. “You eat some first.”
Mike shook his head. “It’s the same food for both of us—here, I’ll show you.” He picked up her wine glass and took a mouthful, screwing up his face as he did.
“See—you did poison it!” she accused.
Mike swallowed with an effort. “No—” He coughed. “—it’s just much sweeter than I’d expected.” He extended the glass. “And I’m still standing. Try it.”
She took the glass and sniffed at its contents, then tentatively sipped it. Her face also screwed up into a cute little frown, as the front of her robe slipped open a bit. “You are right, far too sweet. I don’t suppose…you have any beer?”
Mike raised his eyebrows. “A girl after my own heart.” He removed the wine bucket from the cart and replaced it with the bucket of beers from underneath. He carved the wax off and removed the cork, then offered her the bottle. “This should be more to your liking.”
She drank, slowly at first, then more deeply, her eyes widening as she swallowed. “That is—incredible!”
“Careful now, don’t go crazy with it,” Mike warned as she tipped the bottle up again.
“Why not—it will probably make what’s going to happen next more bearable,” she said when she’d lowered the bottle again.
Mike had been opening his own bottle of Mountain Tiger, and looked steadily up at her. “Well, since what’s happening now is dinner, I think we’ll be able to manage that without too much difficulty, right?”
Her eyes flicked to the food. “Again, you first,” she said as she took another swig.
“Fine by me.” Picking up her plate, Mike filled it with duck breast in sauce, rice, and slices of fresh papaya, mango, pineapple, and star fruit. He cut the breast with his fork, speared a piece, and brought it to his mouth. “Damn…that is good.” He tried another bite with some rice, and enjoyed it even more. “I think I’ve changed my mind. You can watch me eat all of this instead.”
She licked her lips—a sight Mike appreciated. “Perhaps—since you seem to be all right—I will have some.”
Mike offered her the plate, which she took and set back down on the cart. She picked up her chopsticks again, and her gaze rose to meet his. “Enjoy.”
She smiled briefly at that, then attacked her plate with vigor. Mike ate sparingly, making sure to keep her plate full as well as the cold beers coming. After three helpings—of everything, including the beer—Soon Yi dropped her chopsticks, sat back on her elbows, and belched.
She giggled and covered her mouth with a small hand. “You probably think that is rude.”
Mike shook his head—Jace had given him a crash course in Chinese table etiquette. “On the contrary, I believe that means the food was good, right? I’ll have to let the chef know.”
Soon Yi pushed herself back up just enough to grab her latest beer. “Who are you?”
Mike smiled. “Just another crazy round-eye, that’s all.”
She smiled back, then frowned in mock annoyance. “Who has enough men and guns to take pirates down in their home waters? Who has—” she lifted her beer bottle, “—enough connections to bring in the beer that’s being sold on the black market for two hundred pesos per bottle? You’re anything but a crazy round-eye…”
“What about you?” Mike asked. “You don’t seem like the typical Southeast Asian streetwalker. And why’d you try so hard to hide the fact that you speak English?”
Soon Yi shrugged. “What did you expect—the biggest pirate group in the area…” she took several swallows of beer, then belched again. “That no one in their right mind would screw with, all taken apart like…like…” She drained the bottle and set it on the cart with a clank! “like it was a child’s fort made of pillows. If any of my regular customers found out I spoke English, they think it means I think I’m somehow better than them. It makes them mean. If I told you that, I thought it would get me killed.”
“And now?” Mike asked, raising his own bottle to his lips.
“Now…I have the chance to thank you for sparing my life…” She rose off the bed, the short robe hanging open as she came around the cart, pushing it aside to sit in his lap. “Now you want Asian delight?” she asked as she rubbed his chest, then began unbuttoning his shirt with deft twists of her fingers.
“Well, I’d be lying if I said the thought hadn’t crossed my mind—” was all Mike could say before she kissed him. Her mouth was hot and sweet, the spice of the duck sauce mingling pleasantly with the tang of the Mountain Tiger beer.
Caught off guard for a moment, Mike recovered quickly, darting his tongue between her lips. She opened her mouth wider and welcomed him in as her hands finished unbuttoning his shirt. One spidered its way down his chest and stomach, heading for his fly, while her other hand held the back of his head in place while she kept kissing him.
Mike’s hands were anything but idle either; he barely had to touch the robe before it fell off, revealing the rest of the taut, athletic body that had been hinted at on the deck the night before. Despite being Asian, she had small but full, round breasts with small nipples. He grew even harder at the sight, but restrained himself.
“You want me love you long time?” she whispered in his ear.
“Sure, but without the broken English cliche,” he replied.
“You’d be amazed at how that turns on American tourists,” she said.
“Who said I was an American?” With that Mike grabbed her tight ass with both hands and stood up, lifting her with him. Soon Yi gasped in surprise and threw her arms around his neck, while her legs snaked around his waist. The silk robe slipped down around her waist, but he made sure to keep it with them as he walked toward the bed.
“You have that kind of look about you…like you expect everyone else to submit to your demands…” She whispered in between nibbles on his ear.
“Oh? And would you?” He asked as he set her down on the silk sheets.
“Since you could kill me and feed me to the sharks, and no one would know, it would be in my best interests, too…ohh…” her voice became more breathy as Mike used the robe to massage her breasts. Rubbing first one, then the other with the smooth silk, making her arch her back as her nipples stiffened under his expert attention.
“Well, you’ve seen how bad I can be…I think I’ll show you just how good I can be too…” Mike kept up the silken massage while his other hand gently explored between her legs. She moaned more loudly and spread them wider.
Mike didn’t need any more of an invitation. Sliding down, he began flicking at her pussy with his tongue, just enough to tantalize her without giving any true satisfaction. And all the while, he kept caressing her firm, high breasts through the sheer silk. He knew from experience how aroused a woman could get from that, and judging by Soon Yi’s quickening moans, she was just as susceptible as any one.
Soon Yi was responded immediately, pressing his head down between her silken thighs while squirming with delight as he lapped her. After a few licks up, down, and from side-to-side, Mike curled his tongue into a u-shape and teased out the swollen bud of flesh he knew was there. He teased it unmercifully, alternating sucking on it and blowing across it. He drew it back and forth, in and out until she fairly screamed with pleasure, but hadn’t come yet.
After several intoxicating minutes, during which his tongue was about to go numb, She pulled away and sat up. “My turn.” Pulling him upright, she laid a trail of hot kisses down his chest to his pants, where she unbuttoned him and drew his pants down, maneuvering around the definite bulge there. Mike was pleased at his foresight in not wearing any underwear.
“Mmm.” Stroking his erect shaft, she played with the tip of him, flicking her tongue out to play with his head the way he had played with her before. One of her hands massaged his balls as skillfully as if she was holding a pair of Baoding balls, while the other worked his shaft like, well, like a pro, to be perfectly honest. But that didn’t mean Mike wasn’t enjoying himself.
Before he could say anything, she leaned forward and placed her wet lips on the head of his cock. Undulating her neck, she cradled his head with her tongue while varying the pressure of her lips around it. The feeling was unlike anything he had ever experienced, and Mike almost lost himself in the rush of pleasure she was giving. However, he brought himself back from the edge to keep an eye on her, although she was making even that very simple act very difficult.
She took him deeper into her mouth, and soon Mike found himself being blown quite expertly. Although he would have expected that her rather small mouth wouldn’t have been able to handle him, she deep-throated him with relative ease, only gagging once before settling into a natural rhythm. She even played with his tip, sliding it around her cheeks before going down to the base of his shaft. He let her go for another few minutes, and even let her talented tongue work its magic on his balls for a bit, swirling all around them.
Even though Mike was enjoying the hell of of it, after his brief lapse of concentration earlier, he maintained situational awareness of her at all times. That was one of the ways he could delay his orgasm for as long as he wanted. Her “seduction” of him was what made this whole scenario even more exciting—he knew this sexy Asian whore was anything but a prostitute, and given what he had done to her earlier, he figured she’d probably like nothing more than to kill him if she ever got the chance. That adrenaline high, mixed with the sex, was a combination he couldn’t beat with a whip—although maybe he’d try that next time.
He did, however, make her work for it. About the time he figured she might get lockjaw, he gently pulled out, every inch of him tingling. His erection was still strong, and he tapped the tip of his dick on the swollen lips of her pussy. She pushed her hips off the bed, arching to meet him.
“Please…please…” she moaned.
After sheathing his member, Mike used with his tip with near-surgical skill, inserting it just far enough to widen her lips, then pulling out again. The movement was just enough to excite the vulva and cause an almost overwhelming desire in any woman for the rest of him. He had played this game with several of the local girls, and it never failed to drive them crazy. One of them had even chased him out of the bedroom, still stark naked, when an incursion alert had forced him to interrupt their sex session before he was really able to get started.
This time, however, he would be practicing a variation of coitus interruptus, although not for the usual reason. He alternated his strokes, gradually going deeper inside her, although he was careful to keep the pressure on her clit and labia. Since she had stimulated his head so well, it was now numb for all intents and purposes, allowing him to ride her for as long as he wanted.
However, he kept up his odd thrusting, first shallow, then deeper, alternating them, but not settling into any sort of typical rhythm that she could enjoy. Indeed, she groaned and moved her hips in frustration as he continued tantalizing her, but Mike was just as determined to prevent her from enjoying this at all.
Finally, Mike had had enough, although to judge from Soon Yi’s excited moans, she could have gone all night. He slowly withdrew from her one last time, then reared up and left the bed, leaving her gasping and staring at him in shock.
“Where—where are you going?”
“This has been delightful, but I’m afraid there are other matters aboard ship that require my attention.” Mike pulled his pants back on and zipped up. “But don’t worry—” he said as he pulled his shirt on. “—I’m sure I’ll see you again.”
And with that, he grabbed the cart, wheeled it out the door, and was gone, leaving a puzzled—and very frustrated—Soon Yi behind.
* * *
After her second encounter with the Kildar, Soon Yi had wrestled with the turmoil of emotions coursing through her.
Out of everything that had happened, the sex with the Westerner was actually the least of her worries. She had been raped while still a teenager, by one of her countrymen almost a decade ago. He had never been caught. Oddly, and although she knew it made no sense, she sometimes felt like she owed that man her thanks. Since she would never be considered properly marriageable after that, it had been a big reason for her entering the intelligence service.
Along with that, her father had been profoundly disappointed in her, as they had taken the risk of violating China’s one-child policy to replace their son, who had been killed in a traffic accident, Instead of the replacement son they craved, they had a daughter instead. Soon Yi was raised in an environment that created a classic closet narcissist; craving acceptance and affection from men, but unable to reciprocate in kind. As she was also very intelligent, once she recognized this, she did everything she could to erect a wall between herself and her emotions, suppressing them in order to excel at her job, the only thing left that gave her any satisfaction.
None of this made what she and the American had done any more acceptable, but Soon Yi justified the act as part of her duty. She had played the swallow before, and had seduced more than one man on other assignments when necessary. It was simply part of what she needed to do to complete her mission—just like posing as a prostitute to gain access to Yeung Tony had been.
Because of that same iron-hard commitment, she had excelled during her training. Her dedication to cold reading and analyzing a subject were what had allowed her to see through Katya’s attempted ruse. Now she applied those same skills to what she had just participated in. That, however, was where she was encountering cognitive dissonance.
First and foremost, she wasn’t sure who was seducing whom. This “Kildar” had exhibited all of the classic signs of arousal and commitment—at least in the act itself—but his leaving before his achieving climax—or at least giving her one—was unprecedented, at least in her experience. There had been nothing wrong with her technique. There never was—every man she had set out to conquer had succumbed to her charms with ease. Which made this man all the more puzzling.
And the second issue—which she was loathe to admit to herself—was that he had been good at what he did…damn good. Even now there was an itch deep inside her that was begging to be scratched. And there was really only one way to do that. One of the reasons Soon Yi was such a good operative was her complete divorcement of the act of sex from any emotion whatsoever. But that was before she had encountered someone like this Kildar…
Soon Yi went to the shower to clean up, disturbed by the thoughts that kept running through her mind. If her control found out what had happened, he would accuse her of becoming emotionally involved, and have her removed from the mission.
The very idea is ridiculous! she thought. He’s just another gwai-lo—a talented one—but another one nonetheless. My mission is clear. It is obvious he enjoys the sexual relationship, and that is what he shall continue to receive in order to deepen the relationship, such as it is.
As she thought, Soon Yi has unconsciously moved the shower wand down between her legs. Now, switching it to pulse, she let the jet of water stimulate her already sensitive parts until she shuddered and leaned against the wall, gasping as her orgasm overtook her. And although Mike’s face rose in her mind, she banished the vision of him just as firmly, replacing that with her evaluation of him based on what she had seen—and experienced—of him so far.
He is used to dominating, to being in control. He enjoys it, enjoys causing fear in others—men, women it doesn’t matter. So, how would he react to someone who resists him more—vigorously?
Afterward, she cleaned herself up and reported in to headquarters. The conversation was brief:
“This is Black Chrysanthemum reporting. I have initiated a sexual relationship with the mercenary leader.”
“Does he suspect anything?”
“No, he is very—single-minded. He still believes that I am just a prostitute who was involved with Yeung Tony.”
There was a slight pause on the other end, which struck Soon Yi as odd. “I have received information from my superior regarding this new development in your mission.”
“Yes?”
“Not only are you to maximize your relationship with this ‘Kildar,’ and report any information you discover, but you are also under orders to ensure that no harm is to come to him.”
“I—I understand.” Soon Yi could not fathom why that particular order had been given, but then again, it did not matter. It had been given, and she would carry it out to the best of her ability.
“What is the status of the package?”
“They want me to try and convince Tony to set up the meeting with his contact in Hong Kong. I imagine that they are going to attempt to sell it there.”
“Remain attached to the package at all costs. Again, maintain the relationship with your secondary target, and insure his safety. We will ensure that the proper authorities are notified of your presence once you arrive in the city.”
“Understood. Black Chrysanthemum out.”
Soon Yi broke the connection, then quickly stripped the antenna and batteries out of her dress. Looking around for a suitable hiding place, she ran the antenna around the edge of the mirror, and hid the sealed batteries deep inside the bar of soap they had given her. Once that was done, she went to bed, still trying to banish the errant thoughts about the gwai-lo Mike Jenkins out of her mind…