A few minutes later, the demon woman stepped aboard.
Xiang, along with the rest of the men, shifted uneasily in her presence. She was impeccably dressed in a western-style suit, with a cream silk blouse under matching dark pinstriped blazer and pants. Despite the heat, she didn’t sweat, and her hair was restrained in what looked like an ivory holder and draped her left shoulder. She carried a small, alligator-skin briefcase in her right hand. Her eyes were concealed behind dark blue designer sunglasses that lent her face an alien, insectile quality. Whenever he saw her, a strange mixture of feelings cascaded over Xiang: fear and anger and another emotion that he couldn’t quite identify.
Setting the briefcase down on the table with a thump, she didn’t waste time with greetings. “Why haven’t you repainted the boat? It has been three days since you took it, yet it still looks the same.”
Lee Ming concealed his anger under a calm, lazy affectation. “It is difficult to do such work when we are being interrupted by pointless meetings with you all the time.”
She smiled, her white teeth flashing in a vulpine grin. “This meeting is anything but pointless, asshole. I have your next assignment, but first, an object lesson for you and the rest of these dirty pigs.”
Now she had all of the men’s attention. Of course, calling Ming an asshole and the rest of them dirty pigs would do that, Xiang thought. One or two of them tensed, as if they were going to try to jump her, but Lee froze them in place with just a look. He returned his attention to the woman, who stood by the table like a statue, watching them all from behind her dark sunglasses.
“Please, continue.” One could almost miss the gritted strain in his voice, he covered it well.
“In here is money for resupplying the boat, as well as getting the damn thing painted. It had better be done in the next two days, or we’ll find another crew to handle this operation. And if you doubt my word—”
She popped open the locks on the briefcase, opened it and took out a small lacquered box inlaid with gold filigree. “I brought you a gift from my superior.” She set it on the table in front of Lee. “Open it.”
Even Xiang knew that opening a gift immediately after receiving it was bad form, but since it was more of an order than a request, Lee didn’t have a choice. He reached out and undid the tiny metal clasp with one hand, then flipped the cover open. The men behind him gasped in surprise, but Lee showed no hint of any reaction at all.
Xiang carefully sidled closer to the table, overcome with curiosity. He had just gotten a glimpse of something that looked sort of like a dried fleshy finger when Lee slammed the cover shut, his fingers curling into a fist over the box.
The woman continued as if she didn’t notice his boiling rage. “We dropped off the rest of him on the way here. I imagine the sharks dined well. My superior was very displeased with his actions when you took over this boat. He trusts there will be no further incidents like the one that cost Cheng his life.”
Xiang, like many of the other pirates, gaped at her in shock. The woman had overseen one of the most grievous insults to a Chinese person by denying him a proper burial. But instead of acting ashamed, she stood tall and proud, as if pleased by what she had carried out. Xiang hadn’t been overly fond of Cheng, as he was a drunkard and a bully, but even he wouldn’t have considered the thought of doing something that heinous to the man’s body.
The woman stood over Lee, as if daring him to reply. The silence stretched out for many seconds. Finally, the pirate leader looked up. “We shall do everything you require. There will be no further...incidents.”
“Good. You will also need to recruit more men. My superior has decided that we will be taking two vessels for the mission, not just one.”
The shock of the “gift” was replaced by the surprise of this new directive. Even Lee’s eyebrows raised at this. “Taking over one ship was going to be difficult enough, but two—”
“I did not ask for your opinion, I told you what you must do. If this is a problem, then I can find other men willing to undertake this mission, rendering all of you—” her gaze, even through the sunglasses, raked across everyone “—as expendable as that pig there.” She waved a hand at the box. “Get this boat repainted, get more men, preferably some with large ship experience, and be ready to move in two days. We will contact you with further instructions then.”
Lee swallowed, his fisted hands having disappeared under the table. “Everything will be ready as you have requested.” His voice had gone low and very soft. The pirates edged away from him; they knew exactly what that tone meant. Xiang slowly crept back to his place near the hallway entrance; when the time came, he wanted to have his bolt hole close at hand.
“Good. And no more fuck-ups, or you’ll all join your friend as shark bait. Well, except for some parts, perhaps.” She grinned again, turned on her heel and descended back to the boat. With a muffled roar, the powerboat pushed off, then turned and disappeared into the distance, shrinking until it could no longer be seen, and its engine noise was nothing but a loud memory.
Lee sat at the table for a long minute, then took the box and hurled it overboard, contents and all. “I swear, we will complete our job, but before we do, that bitch will be dead.”
He rose with such force that his chair toppled over, skidding on the hardwood deck. “Let’s move, all of you! Get underway, head for the island! We’ll show them just how we get things done!”
He stalked into the main room as the rest of the men scrambled to obey his orders. Xiang ducked into the hallway to the galley and began cleaning the pots, wondering just how much harder their plan was going to be now.
And what exactly did the demon woman mean by two ships?
CHAPTER FIVE
Three and a half hours later, Bolan turned his rented Escalade off the Henry Hudson Parkway onto a forested road, leaving the whoosh and roar of the highway behind as he traveled into a secluded forest park.
He looked out the window at the well-kept lawns and stark trees just beginning to bud in the spring season. He hit his earpiece, speed-dialing Stony Man Farm as a building straight out the Middle Ages came into view, complete with a stone tower rising over the foliage. After the call was routed through a series of cutouts, an operator at the Farm put him through to Tokaido.
“Speak to me.”
“This is Striker. What am I coming up on?” After getting the address from Brognola, Bolan had sent it to Akira Tokaido to gather info during the hour-long drive from JFK to Long Island.
“Hey, Striker. You just entered Fort Tryon Park. That would make the building you’re coming up on part of the Cloisters.” Bolan heard keys tapping. “It’s a part of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, is dedicated to the art and architecture of Medieval Europe, and was opened in 1938 to the public—”
“I’m familiar with New York landmarks, so that’s enough of a history lesson, thanks.” Bolan watched the red tile-roofed building grow larger as he approached. “Wonder why Hal suggested this place, instead of any one of a dozen in D.C. that would be as discreet?”
“Offhand, it seems to be about as far from both NYC and D.C. as you could get. Since it’s so isolated, anyone trying to follow either of you would stick out like the proverbial sore thumb.”
“Right.” Bolan
