There is our exit cue.
Marco reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of money. “Sorry about your window, mate. I hope this covers it.” He tossed it to the old man who bungled the catch. And in that moment of lost concentration, Marco grabbed Jill by the hand and pulled her past the old man. They scampered down the stairs and out the front door, laughing like teenagers.
“Well, that was a jolly good time,” Marco said, slowing to a walk only after they were five blocks away from the scene of the crime.
“Did you give him enough money?” Jill asked, feeling a bit guilty. “We did break into his house after all.”
Marco sniffed. “With the amount of money I gave him, he could build a new roof. Come on, let’s get a drink. We deserve it.”
“So who won?” she asked.
Marco flashed her a smile, a sincere one this time. “We’ll call it a draw.”
THIRTY-THREE
THE TRANSPORT
For the next thousand years, I, along with the rest of my kind, followed the Conflict Doctrine and expanded wherever the humans could thrive. Like a swarm of locusts, we occupied every crevice of this earth, sowing dissension and innovation everywhere we went.
In our defense, and I will argue that we did not feel we needed any defense, we pushed humanity to greater heights. Krys had a hand in the development of the chariot. The wheel was the work of Galen. Chiyva’s genius in warfare created the tactics of the Roman Legions. Haewon, being one of the few like me who explored the lands to the east, later trumped us all with the creation and advent of the black substance now known as gunpowder.
Tao
Two days after Roen found Dylan, the team was ready to infiltrate the Punai grounds of Kaohsiung harbor and wrap things up in Taiwan. Dylan already had a plan in the works, so it just needed to be retooled for the eight member team. The plan was surprisingly elegant, one that even Tao admired.
Much like the Trojan horse.
“Head out to sea, hide in a container, and get shipped right in. That man is smarter than he looks.”
Probably Yen’s idea.
They had originally planned to leave at dawn, but after deciding to have one last breakfast, they ended up departing closer to nine. Hutch had convinced Roen to leave the entire security deposit for their landlord, much to his disappointment. The way he saw it, whatever of Lin’s money was left after this mission was his to keep. But after doing a final walk through of the apartment, he realized it was the right thing to do. After all, eight guys sleeping in a tiny place for any length of time tended to leave the place somewhat of a disaster, especially if it was eight live-by-the-seat-of-your-pants killers with lax hygiene. All except for Hutch, though. He was the motherly and cleanly type everyone else took advantage of.
They traveled by subway back down to Kaohsiung International Airport, stopping by FedEx to ship any personal items back to wherever each person was from. They dumped anything unnecessary, expendable, or incriminating into a local landfill, and then chartered a private helicopter southwest.
“So is this captain is reliable?” Roen asked. “The entire plan hinges on buying passage on the ship.”
Dylan grinned. “Of course. Manny and I used to run arms for the Philippine civil war. Now he runs routes up and down the coast. Stops by Taiwan every two or so weeks. I’ve used him dozens of times to sneak around. If you operate a trade ship in this region, you can’t help but work for the Genjix one way or another.”
“Doesn’t sound trustworthy,” Roen frowned.
“Money rules Manny’s world,” Dylan chuckled. “I wouldn’t trust him otherwise.”
A few hours later, Dylan pointed at a massive freighter, designation RPS Imelda’s Song, with the P and the S half flaked off by the rust covering the hull. It was easily one of the largest ships Roen had ever seen, and he had watched Titanic four times. Though not possessing a nautical eye, he had enough experience aboard ships to know they were about to hitch a ride aboard an antique.
“This rusty behemoth is older than some Ming vases I’ve broken,” he grumbled.
The sad part is, I think that statement is true.
“Really? When?”
Remember that French socialist? The arms dealer?
“The one with the gaudy wing of tacky furniture I shot up?
Gaudy yes, tacky no. You have poor taste. When you ran through there, I recognized some of the pieces.
“I was being chased by half a dozen guys at the time. Didn’t have time to stop and admire the craftsmanship. There was a Ming vase there?”
I believe so. You smashed it over someone’s head, picked up a shard, and stabbed another in the chest with it.
“Ah, good times.”
The helicopter landed in front of a group of not-so-friendly-looking sailors. Dylan jumped off and made a grand gesture at their welcome party. Roen watched as the helicopter took off a minute later, stranding them on the ship.
“Talk about painting ourselves into a corner.”
At least we outnumber them.
Ten more sailors appeared on the deck.
I stand corrected.
Roen leaned in to Dylan. “Are you sure about this? Our ride just left.”
Dylan shrugged off his concerns. “Captain Manny is an old pal of mine. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind us hitching a ride.”
The eight of them walked across the fore deck toward the dilapidated bridge. When Dylan had first told them about the plan, Roen had imagined a tugboat flying into the harbor by night. This monstrosity was ridiculous. There must have been a hundred cargo containers here.
The price of passage will be steep.
“There goes my retirement.”
Roen counted at least a dozen more not-so-friendly pairs of eyes staring as they walked on deck. A ship this size must carry a good size crew. Roen didn’t exactly hate those odds, but who was going to steer the ship if it came to that? Still, he kept his hand near his pistol and hatched a quick plan to take over if things got rough. He moved a little closer to Faust and signaled for him to be alert, though he doubted Faust needed much warning.
“I don’t see guns. I think I can take half of these guys on my own. Dylan can take the other half. Faust and the rest of the guys can man the ship and cook.”
Roen must have grossly underestimated their numbers because shortly after, the count swelled to at least forty, with more showing up by the minute. To top it off, he saw at least four rifles and at least two spear guns. For some reason, being shot by a spear sounded much more unpleasant than being shot by a bullet.
Dylan acted as if he didn’t notice any of the animosity, grinning and calling out to people he recognized. None seemed to return his greetings as they bunched closer and closer together. Finally, he leaned in to Roen and whispered. “Funny, they were so nice last time. I wonder what I did to piss them off. Maybe I shouldn’t have slept with Manny’s sister.”
Roen’s face turned white, and his hand reflexively reached for his pistol.
Dylan chuckled and pulled Roen’s hand away. “Just kidding. But seriously, don’t reach for your gun. They might be small, but it’s a rough life out on the seas. These critters can fight like Tasmanian devils. Oh, wait, there’s Manny now. Just you watch.” Dylan broke out into the widest smile his burnt face would allow and waved at a crusty old sailor. “Ho, Manny, it’s good to see you, mate! How’s old Imelda treating you? She looks as fresh and clean as the day you took her out of the sack.”
Roen studied Manny’s facial expression, and if this man was what stood between them and a lynching, they were in trouble. Manny was shorter than most of his crew, which frankly was a feat in itself. He was a scrawny but wiry dark Filipino with a face so weathered that he looked like he was carved from tree bark. If Roen hadn’t known better, he’d guess Manny was the grumpy cook or the old bilge cleaner. Only a torn-up captain’s hat gave away his rank.