No one paid Eddie much attention as he moved to an open seat at the far end of the bar. He ordered a beer, making sure the bartender saw the wad of money he carried. He had the situation figured out and a plan formulated by the time he’d downed half the bottle.
If the soldiers didn’t leave before closing time, Eddie was in trouble. Once the soldier he’d killed turned up missing the next day and the army began to tear the town apart, Yan Luo would fade into the background. He’d close down his smuggling ring until after the body was found and an appropriate number of arrests had been made. It might be weeks before he felt safe enough to resume trafficking people out of the area. Eddie needed to be in the smuggling conduit tonight if he hoped to discover if there was a connection between the snakeheads and the pirates preying on shipping in the Sea of Japan. His solution was simple. He had to get the three armed soldiers out of the bar before closing, which by the sour look on the bartender’s face wouldn’t be too much longer.
Of the three soldiers, only one was drinking heavily. He was a corporal, a couple years older than the two privates flanking him. He regaled his pals with wild stories as he drank beer after beer. His two companions had the look of peasants just off the farm and appeared overwhelmed by everything that had happened to them since stepping from behind the plow ox. The corporal sounded like he was from a city. It was possible that he was a friend of the would-be rapist; maybe they had joined up together. He held his comrades enthralled with tales of sexual excess and debauchery and made boasts that by the end of the evening his companions would have such stories of their own. He said this and leered at the closest girls.
Eddie waited for any of the locals to react. One man at the bar wearing black jeans and a motorcycle jacket made of vinyl glanced at a table in the darkest corner of the room. It was a quick flicker that the soldiers didn’t notice, but Eddie did. At the table were three men and a pair of girls who could be twins. Two of the men looked like muscle, bodyguards. The third had to be the snakehead, Yan Luo. He wore a dark suit jacket over a black T- shirt and impenetrable sunglasses. He gave the barest shake of his head. It seemed he didn’t want trouble with the soldiers.
The snakehead sensed Eddie’s gaze. Eddie did nothing to mask his intentions. He stood. He’d finished his beer and grabbed the bottle around the neck. Yan Luo slid his Ray-Bans down his small nose to watch what was about to unfold. His expression remained neutral, and the bodyguards seemed oblivious.
Eddie moved so he was behind the soldiers and tapped the corporal on the meaty shoulder. The big man didn’t react, although one of the privates shot Eddie a wary look. The din of patrons’ conversations became a muted, expectant silence. Only the stereo continued to play on. Eddie tapped the corporal again, harder.
He whirled around on his barstool and shot to his feet. He was much steadier than Eddie had expected. His small, piggy eyes narrowed as he looked down at the creature who dared to interrupt his drinking.
“You owe those young women an apology, and I think it’s best if you and your friends left the bar,” Eddie said in his most cultured voice.
The corporal roared with laughter. “You think it best.” He laughed again. “I think it best if you piss off.” He put a heavy hand on Eddie’s chest and shoved with all his strength.
Rather than fall back, Eddie twisted so the force of the push made the corporal take a staggering step forward. As he’d anticipated, the two farm boys remained in their seats, though they watched expectantly. The corporal threw a lightning punch at Eddie’s head. Eddie barely had time to duck as another shot bored in, a left jab to his ribs that connected solidly. He had wholly overestimated the corporal’s level of inebriation, or else the man was a natural drunken brawler.
The corporal grabbed up his own beer bottle and smashed it on the bar. The jagged ring of glass he waved at Eddie’s head was as sharp as any knife. Eddie could have broken his own bottle to even the fight, but killing the soldier wasn’t an option. He wanted the men out of the bar, not a police raid.
“I think it best if you bleed a little,” the corporal snarled and swung the broken bottle at Eddie’s throat. Had it connected, the glass would have torn through cartilage and arteries and nearly taken Eddie’s head off. He rocked back and let the broken bottle whisk an inch from his skin. He jammed his own bottle under the soldier’s ribs, digging the neck into the slab of muscle so the corporal had to step back, roaring in pain.
Both young privates got to their feet.
Eddie pegged the farm boys with a hard stare. “You don’t want any part of this.” His warning came in a hoarse whisper, and he refocused on the corporal. He moved into a martial arts stance, his motions so fluid it seemed his body was made of water. He let the bottle drop from his fingers.
The bigger man also crouched down, his hands weaving in front of his face, his eyes locked on Eddie’s.
Big mistake.
Eddie’s upper body didn’t move as he threw three successive kicks: ribs, knee, and a shot to the groin that didn’t properly connect. The corporal should have been watching Eddie’s torso to be able to anticipate his blows.
The soldier staggered under the onslaught, but Eddie gave no quarter. He glided in close, launching a series of quick strikes, his hands almost blurring. Throat, ribs, solar plexus, head, ribs again, nose. By the time he stepped back again, five seconds had elapsed, and the corporal was a bloody mess.
One of the privates made a jerky move as if he were going to defend his comrade. Eddie had a hand to his throat before the boy was even sure he was going to commit.
“He isn’t worth it,” Eddie said evenly, his breathing unaffected by the adrenaline or the fight. He gently pushed the soldier back into his seat.
The corporal was still standing, barely, but there was hatred in his eyes. In his condition, the soldier would most likely return to the bar with reinforcements. Eddie spun like a dervish, firing two brutal roundhouse kicks to the corporal’s head. The first bent him double and rolled his eyes back into his skull. The second drove him to the floor so hard his insentient body bounced off the wood planking. He wouldn’t wake for hours, and at least a day would pass before he would be coherent enough to consider revenge.
Eddie looked back at the privates. “Do yourselves a favor and find a new buddy. This guy’s got a big enough mouth to get you into trouble but no way to get you out. You understand?” One of them nodded mutely. “Take him back to wherever you’re encamped. Tell your sergeant he fell down a flight of stairs, and don’t come back again.”
Grateful they’d been spared, the two privates scooped the unconscious corporal from the floor and slung his limp arms over their shoulders. They dragged him from the bar without a backward glance. Eddie turned to the bartender and indicated he wanted another beer. As if a dam had burst, everyone was talking at once, conversations floating over his head as the youths recounted what had just happened.
