Silver Shadow #6
"The Triad" (Part I)
by Aaron Baugh

With a slight whine, the private plane reversed its engines and braked hard on the strip, coming to a near-stop as it turned towards the hangars and taxied to a wide yellow stripe painted on the concrete.  A line of vehicles, three large SUVs, black and with windows tinted, moved towards the plane, stopping several yards away.  The door opened, and men exited
the plane, twelve in all.  Groups of four peeled away and diverged, each headed for a different vehicle.

Their one unifying feature, besides their dark suits, was their ethnicity.  All were Asian.

"Lift!"

The mattress went up once more, and the two men manhandled the thing the final few yards towards the already assembled bedframe.  As it flopped into position, Zhao sat down upon it, his face flushed.  "I hate mattresses," he said slowly.

Jian joined him on the bed.  "Me too.  But that's the last of it."

Zhao smiled weakly.  "I'm beginning to appreciate the fact that all of your worldly possessions were either too damaged to be recovered, or blown to little pieces."

"I'm sure you are."  Jian glanced at his new watch. "Class in twenty minutes.  What are you planning today?"

"I'm not the owner."

"But you are their prime instructor, no?"

"Only because you're off making TV shows.  What about Wastelander, anyway?  Have you heard anything back from what's-her-name?"

"Burke?  At KGPC?"

Zhao nodded.

"Nope.  Not a thing.  I'm sure that Chuck will tell me as soon as he hears anything.  He stands to make lots of money on this, too, you know."

"Right," Zhao said as he stood and crossed the studio over to the small kitchen corner.  "A drink?"

Jian shook his head.  "No thanks.  I'll be downstairs if you need me," he said, then took the stairs at a trot, landing lightly at the bottom after taking the last three in a small leap.  He was just in time to see the first student of the day's class enter. Giving the young lady a bright smile, Jian moved to the equipment locker and began removing the pads. Today, the class would spar.

"You have a site?"

"Yes sir.  All is prepared.  Each of the masters is ready, and we expect no problems.  Ziyi has already found where he lives."

"Very good.  Go and get him tonight, and be nice, Han, but be careful.  Each of the masters will wait for their time, and none will go with you."

Han nodded, then spun on his heel and left, with five men falling in step behind him.

Just under an hour later, the six men sat in identical SUVs across from the small, but brightly lit dojo.  A figure in a white gi was sweeping in one corner of the main room as another figure bid a child goodnight and locked the door behind her.  Han and his men waited until the girl got into a waiting car and left.

Still, they waited another full minute before they slid from their seats and headed towards the dojo.

Inside, Zhao still worked the broom over the hardwood floor.

"Tsk.  Roll up the mats before you sweep!  No sense in going around them, then back again," scolded Jian, heavily laden with red and blue gloves and foot pads. He was headed towards the equipment room.

A tapping on the glass of the door made Zhao look up from rolling one of the large mats up against the wall.  Six men, four of which held weapons, stood silently outside.  The tapping had been made with the barrel of an automatic pistol.

"Um, Jian?" said Zhao tentatively, then louder, "Jian! Come up front right now!"  And then he ran towards the door in the rear that would lead out.

At a nod, one of the men out front withdrew a small baton, broke the glass near the door's handle, and reached in to flip the deadbolt.  His companion levelled his weapon and fired, taking Zhao in the meaty part of his thigh.  The martial arts teacher fell and skidded on the hardwood, only a few paces short of his goal.

The six men entered swiftly, and the one with the pistol moved to stand over Zhao.  "We are looking for Jian Li Fong.  Where is he?"

Zhao looked up at him, silent.

With a bob of his head, Han's other men kicked open the back door and headed inside.  Three headed upstairs, two went right, towards the alley and the equipment rooms.

Each of the two headed for the storage rooms drew their guns, and alternated their advance, checking behind the shelving units that held pads, gloves, extra gis, and other assorted whatnot.  The hallway terminated in a door that had a padlock sitting open
in the latch.  The two men shared a look, then one lifted the lock out and pulled the latch free.  The other pulled the door open quickly, and leapt back as four spears fell towards him.

Freed from where they had been leaning against the door, the spears clattered to the ground between the two men, but not before one of them had been cut by a descending spearhead.  Nearly dropping his gun in a surprise reaction to the pain, he stifled a scream, but still succeeded in drawing his partner's attention.

Neither of them saw the dark shape drop to the ground behind them.

From his position at the juncture of wall and ceiling, Jian had watched the men enter, and once the little surprise he'd planned had fallen, it was only a matter of moments before the ones sent upstairs came back down.  He had little time.

His first blow felled the cut man from behind, a nerve strike to the back of the man's neck.  His partner turned towards Jian, but Jian was already leaning back, his heel headed straight for the man's face. The sound of his body thudding against the wall, then
sinking to the floor was quieter than Jian had originally thought possible.

Bending to retrieve one of the toppled spears, he turned and stalked down the hall, towards the stairs.

A search of the living quarters upstairs turned up nothing, and one of the men had found a false bottom in a drawer when a clatter came from downstairs.  All three of the men moved as one, headed for the hallway.

Crouched under the open construction of the stairs, Jian waited for the second pair of feet to pass before reaching through and grabbing the ankles of the unsuspecting third man.  Suddenly off-balance, the poor guy tumbled forward, his outflung arms catching the one before him and sending them both in a clatter down the hard wooden steps.

The first in the line turned in time to see Jian step out from behind the stairs, spear extended and moving towards him at an awfully quick rate.  Side-stepping, the sharp point passed his face, but Jian jerked the spear sideways to slap the man across both eyes and the bridge of his nose.  Stunned for a half-moment, he was unable to react as Jian spun 'round and kicked the
man roundhouse-style in the back of his skull.  Number one hit the ground just as number two disentangled himself from the unconscious third.

Without pausing, Jian took a step forward.

Han stood impassively at the dojo's entrance, one hand holding his gun, and the other holding the back of Zhao's gi.  Both of Zhao's hands were pressed to his bleeding leg, and the barrel of the gun was pressed to Zhao's temple.

Jian saw all this as he stepped through the door into the dojo's main room.

"Hello Jian," said Han.  "You don't know me, but you should know who I work for."

Jian nodded.  The yellow triangles on his opponent's forearms had given it all away.  Silently he cursed himself for thinking that Australia would be any safer than China, or Japan, or the United States.

"Good.  A little less hassle is a good thing.  If you know who I represent, then you know why I'm here."

Jian nodded again.

"And you know what is expected, and what will happen if you resist any more than you already have."

Another nod.

"Good."  Han released Zhao, and took a step back, opening the door with his free hand.  "Your assistant needs to go to the hospital," he said with a slight smile.  "We will drop him off together, you and I, right after you help my men out of your fine dojo."

"And then?"

"Then, we will proceed to the next stage."

"Once Zhao's at the hospital?"

Han nodded.  "But don't get your hopes up.  Other associates of mine are near your other friends as we speak.  Charles and Laura, I believe."

Jian's blood ran cold.  He hated getting others involved, and the explanations involved would be tricky, to say the least.

"Shall we get started?" Han's casual tone only infuriated Jian further.

The trip to the emergency room had been quick, and Zhao had enough energy to limp himself in, since Han wouldn't let Jian carry him.  As soon as the door had shut behind him, Han had sped out of the parking lot, and headed for the north side of Pacific City.

He extended a cell phone to Jian.  "Call your friend Charles.  See that you don't frighten him, though, I wouldn't want to maim more than one of your friends tonight."

Jian snatched the phone and dialled Chuck's number. Two very long rings followed, cut off by Chuck Starling's curt " 'Ello?"

"Chuck, it's Jian.  I need you to-"

"Jian!  I was thinking about calling you.  I was just wondering if - "

"Chuck!"  The tone was enough to make Starling stop short.  "I want you to go to a window and look outside to your driveway, up by the gate.  Tell me what you see."

"What?  What's going on, Jian, are you in trouble or something?  Am I in trouble?"

"Just look, dammit!"

"Okay, okay.  Christ."  A long pause.  "There's a truck out there.  A Range Rover, I think.  Black.  And there's a guy outside of it.  I think I see a -." Silence.  "Shit.  What's going on, Jian?"  His disbelief was gone, replaced with desperate urgency.

"Listen to me, Chuck.  These people want me, and only me.  They're using you to make me do some things, and
there's no reason for you to get involved."

"Well I bloody think I'm involved now," said Chuck. "There's a man with a gun at my driveway!  I think I'm damned involved!"

"Shut up!  Think of Laura, will you?  Keep her inside, and you stay there too.  Don't do anything stupid, like go outside or get in your car or anything.  Don't call the police, and don't do anything.  I'm working this out."

Han held out his hand for the phone.  Jian hesitated. "Chuck, trust me.  For God's sake just trust me on this."

Han snapped his fingers impatiently, and Jian handed the phone to him.  "Mister Starling?  I am Han, and it is one of my associates that is at your driveway. Know that others are in places to watch you and your home.  What Mr. Fong has said is true.  His co-operation and yours will end this situation peacefully.  Do you understand?"

"Yes," said Chuck tersely.  "Yes, I understand."

"I do hope so, Mister Starling," said Han.  "You will hear from either Mister Fong or myself when events have concluded."

"Why wouldn't I hear from Jian?" Chuck heard himself ask.

"Because he's dead.  Goodbye, Mister Starling."  He pressed the 'End' button, and set the cell phone down. "We're nearly there," he said to Jian, as if mention of his death was nothing special.