‘You are sure that these are your final choices? Once payment has been processed, there is no turning back.’
‘We are sure.’
‘Very well. Let’s process the payment, and after that I will personally accompany you to the monastery in the mountains to ensure that the priest dealing with your products gets the exact details of your mission.’
***
After a four-hour drive along a steep and treacherous dirt track, which took them up into the heavily forested heights of the Hengduan mountains, they arrived at the site of an abandoned Buddhist monastery, which Mr Li’s company had restored and converted to a temple for their own particular brand of religion.
The steep, wooded terrain that surrounded the three-hundred-year-old monastery, along with the extremes of climate in the area, made it a perfect base for training in the areas of combat, tracking and wilderness survival. It was here that the assassins who had graduated successfully from the facility as A-, B- or C-grade candidates lived and trained under the watchful eyes of the ‘priests’. Also, it was in these forests that the G and H-graders were sent to fight for their lives as training fodder for the higher-grade assassins. Occasionally a G-grader was able to outwit and kill whatever assassin was after her; in such cases the G-grader would be upgraded to a C-grader. Such instances were, however, quite rare.
After they had parked on a flat piece of earth, below the imposing heights of the white and yellow walls of the monastery, Mr Li climbed out of the driver’s seat of his BMW X6M with a broad grin – genuine for once – smeared across his flat face. His A-grade assassin – his permanent protector – exited the vehicle from the front passenger seat. She had not said a word the whole way. As soon as she exited the car, she cocked her assault rifle and gave the area a visual sweep, scanning for any signs of danger. Mr Li acted as if she was not even there, and instead turned to speak to Hrothgar and Sigurd as they got out of the car.
‘You know, in all of the time in which the facility has been under my ownership, I have only had to issue three refunds. Three, in twenty-eight years. I am very confident that my products will succeed in whatever task you assign them.’
‘We hope they will,’ Sigurd said.
They started up a steep path that took them to the entrance of the monastery, which was barred by two huge oaken doors. A brass ring hung from one of the red-painted doors, and Mr Li used it to rap a few times on the door in a pattern that was obviously a code. Sigurd fixed him with a strange glance, and then spoke.
‘Tell me, Mr Li, how skilled are your products in the hunting of animals?’
‘It is interesting that you should ask this, Mr Yolkov. We do have a few hunting models, specifically trained for tracking, killing, skinning and butchering various endangered species; as you may know, various body parts of tigers, lions, rhinoceroses, elephants, pangolins, bears and leopards, among others, are in extremely high demand in this part of the world. However, you did not ask me about hunting models before, and we would need to return to the academy to complete the transaction, as they are kept in a different facility. This monastery is only for combat and espionage models.’
‘I was just asking. I have no need of such models at the moment. The thought just occurred to me though, while looking at these woods. Surely there is wildlife in them?’
Mr Li shrugged before he replied, and an expression of blank apathy clouded his moon-face.
‘Not nearly as much as there used to be. We need our medicine and we need our meat, I’m afraid. If they are there, we will take them!’
‘The strong should always take from the weak, indeed.’
‘Animals are stupid, Mr Yolkov. If they benefit me more when they are dead than alive, well, so be it. It’s how things are.’
‘I see,’ Sigurd replied, nodding slowly and stroking his beard. ‘Very efficient, utilitarian philosophy indeed. Tell me though, do your priests ever see any bears in this forest?’
Mr Li raised an eyebrow and peered at Sigurd with suspicion sparkling in his black eyes.
‘Bears? Why do you care? Anyway, there are some – or at least there was one that we saw near the monastery last year. Some men from the closest village found out it was up here and came to capture it. I believe it’s now sitting in a wooden cage behind one of the village shacks with a tube extracting bile from its body. Excellent medicine, bear bile! I think they have also cut two of its paws off, for bear paw soup, a wonderful delicacy! Hahaha, but it is still alive, so there are still two more servings of bear paw soup to be had. Bear parts are getting costly these days though, but not so much as elephant ivory, rhino horn, or tiger bones. Perhaps you would like to try some bear paw soup on the way back? As I said, the stupid thing still has two paws left, and I’m sure we can convince the villagers to remove another one.’
‘No, I don’t think so,’ Sigurd murmured. Something dark pulsated behind his eyes and they seemed to assume an almost preternatural glow.
At that moment the huge oaken doors swung open, and a tall, gaunt Chinese man with a freshly shaven head greeted them. He looked to be in his thirties, and on his long, sharp face he wore a well-faked expression of calm serenity. He was clothed in black and red robes which partially emulated the Buddhist style. Behind him stood two teenage girls in full combat gear, armed
