Thai Horse

‘So?’

‘So, you know the river. Put together two or three squads, get yourself a couple of armored riverboats, I can get you anybody you need — CRIPS, Seals, Berets, name it. Any bad-ass in the service is yours. I want you to take ‘em all out. I want this Dragon’s Breath to be history, and fast.’

‘Okay,’ Hatcher said casually, ‘but I’ve got an alternative plan to suggest.’

‘Shoot.’

‘If we do it your way, my cover’s blown.’

‘Okay, how do you see it?’

‘I’ll take three good cutthroats, Molly McGuire, Chet Rodriguez’ — he thought for a minute — ‘and Bear Newton. The rest’ll be Orientals. Make it look like we’re just hijacking their shit. I’ll run the show but keep a low pro. Hell, we’ll wear masks, scare the scrotums off the do-mommies. Any other way we do it, I’m made and we wash ten years.’

‘Where are you gonna get Orientals that are good enough to do that kind of work?’ Sloan asked skeptically.

‘That’s my problem.’

‘I need twenty-four men, the best cutthroats money can buy,’ Hatcher told China Cohen. ‘Able to take orders, no arguments. And quiet — they say a word about any of this, they lose their tongues.’

‘What’s the trick?’ China asked.

‘You don’t want to know.’

Duck hunting, roaming the backwaters at night with their twenty mike-mike cannons and thermite bombs, their Uzis and K-Bar knives, hitting the hooches where the druggers slept at night, waging open warfare on the rivers against the Dragon’s Breath bringing heroin down the Mekong River. In three months Hatcher’s small group ambushed two dozen heroin shipments. In three months four of the five members of the Dragon’s Breath felt the cold steel and hot sting of knives in their throats, died quickly and quietly, while their boats and deadly cargoes were stolen from under them, taken far upstream and burned. Only one member of the Dragon’s Breath escaped Hatcher’s renegades.

Two years later: Singapore airport. White Powder Mama’s Number Two, the Red Pole executioner, Lee Fong, had been unsuccessfully looking for Hatcher for almost two years. Finally he had him in sight, had been tailing him for days, waiting for the right moment to kill him in the classic manner, a stiletto placed carefully at the base of the neck, cutting the nervous system and jugular at the same time — an act to save face and prove to White Powder Mama that he was still worthy to be the Silk Dragon’s Number Two.

Hatcher had been on to him from the start, knew that Fong had to prove himself. A contact killing was called for, so it was easy for Hatcher to lure hint on.

Hatcher went to the observation deck. It was getting dark and the platform was empty. He watched a jet take off, heard the door open behind him and swish shut, heard the footsteps moving closer. He stooped down, as if to tie his shoe. The footsteps quickened. They were directly behind him.

Hatcher twisted and stood in one swift move, burying a seven-inch stiletto under the rib cage and jamming it up into Fong’s heart, staring straight into Fong’s face, so close he felt the rush of the Silk Dragon executioner’s dying breath on his face, and trapping Fong’s hand in a steel grip until he felt the life drop out of the assassin’s body.

‘Joi-gin, Fong,’ he said as he dropped him.

Two weeks later, White Powder Mama was dead on the streets of Wanchai, machine-gunned coming out of a nightclub. The reign of the Silk Dragons was ended. The White Palms took over and, to show their compassion, absorbed many of the Silk Dragons’ members.

One of them was Tollie Fong, Lee Fong’s son. Now, twelve years later, he was the Red Pole of the White Palm Triad, and was about to become its leader. As the White Palm assassin, Tollie Fong was perhaps the most dangerous man in the world. As san wong his power was awesome. And his Number One in Hong Kong was Joe Lung, the last remaining member of the Dragon’s Breath, the only one to escape Hatcher’s guerrillas.

Both had sworn to kill Hatcher on sight.

They operated out of Macao.

And all Hatcher’s clicks told him that if this Varney knew he was in Hong Kong, the White Palms probably did too.

hijacking their goods,’ Varney was saying. ‘Beg your pardon?’ said Hatcher.

‘I said, apparently they still hold it against you, hijacking their goods, I mean.’

The secret had been well kept. As far as Varney or Hong Kong or even Interpol knew, Hatcher had been a bad-ass who was now cooperating with the government. Hatcher knew Varney wasn’t there just to offer the ‘courtesy of the Crown.’ He was there to size up Hatcher, decide whether he was one of the good guys or still potentially a bad guy. That was okay, too.

Sergeant Varney was smart enough to realize that Hatcher did not welcome his help or his interest. This was a dangerous man.

‘I suggest you be extremely careful while you’re in the colony,’ Varney said, walking to the door. ‘You are still high on Tollie Fong’s death list. If either he or Joe Lung finds out you are in Hong Kong, they will stop at nothing to kill you. Needless to say, as a police officer I would prefer to prevent that.’

‘I appreciate your interest,’ Hatcher said. ‘As I told you, we’ll both be out of here in a day or two. I’ll try to keep a low profile.’

Varney handed Hatcher his card. ‘If you should need help, just call. My night number is on the back. I assure you, we will respond as quickly as possible.’