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Last Mission

By: cckuay



When the end came, Paul was emotional. He could not believe when Susan first told him about the exit plan. Whether he was sad because it was ending, or whether he was depressed about the way it was ending, she could not tell. Over the next few days, he tried to talk her out of it. But once she had decided, she was stubborn and would not change her mind.

Paul's reaction surprised her. Susan was a linear thinker and thought her plan was natural and logical. All good things must come to an end, eventually. They had a great run together and had accumulated more than enough to retire on. Each job was becoming riskier as word spread around. Incessant gossip was the nature of the underworld, and nobody could do anything about that. They could either make a decision to stop, or the decision would be made for them when they get caught or killed. And she firmly believed it was when, not if.

Unlike her, he was an idealist. Deep inside, he believed they could do this forever. Worse, he was shocked at the details of her exit plan. Although he disagreed, he eventually gave in to her plan. Silent treatment was the way he chose to show his disapproval.

For the last mission, they flew into Tulsa, rather than DFW. He used a fake credit card to rent a car. While driving from Oklahoma to Texas, he did not say a word. During his nonstop drive until they reached Plano, a suburb just minutes north of Dallas, she slept soundly. Paul could never cease to be amazed how she could sleep right before a dangerous job. It was just after midnight when he pulled over at a Texaco station. They were the only customers.

He put the car in park, turned off the engine, and switched off the lights. By the time he popped the trunk, she was already outside the car. She took a Wal-Mart bag from the trunk and headed into the grocery store. He watched her through the glass, heading to the ladies room at the back of the store. The store clerk was so sleepy he did not notice her waltz by.

Letting out a sigh, he used his left index figure to pull the latch under his seat. He shuffled out when he heard the click of the gas cover. He slid the stolen credit card in and out of the slot, unscrewed the gas cap and waited. When the machine eventually beeped, he removed the nozzle, pushed up the lever, and selected grade 87 for the rented Taurus. It was a car that would be invisible in any parking lot.

Susan knew she too had to be invisible. She planned to wear something that would make her transparent in a seedy club. In the bathroom, she removed her T-shirt and torn-up jeans. Examining her reflection from the cracked mirror, she observed that her body was tight and toned. Satisfied, she put on a red halter top knotted at the neck, low-riding leather shorts, and a pair of knee-high four-inch boots. Glancing again at the cracked mirror, she turned sideways and brushed her bleached-blonde hair, which covered a third of her bare back. The last thing she did was reapply the Volcanic 41 red lipstick from L'Oreal. Satisfied that nobody would notice her in the club frequented by the target, she packed everything into the plastic bag, went out the back door, and threw the bag into the dumpster.

Meanwhile, Paul pushed the nozzle back and twisted the gas cap clockwise until he heard three clicks. When he looked up, he saw her reflection off the side window. She turned her back to him and said, "Can you help me redo the back strap?" She preferred her top to be as tight as possible so she could do her work and not have to worry about a possible wardrobe malfunction.

Paul nodded and unhooked the strap, and then hooked it back to the tightest of the three rings. For a moment, his fingers were mere inches from her breasts. But he stayed professional. From the early days, they had strictly separated business from pleasure. It was simpler and more efficient to compartmentalize. "How does it feel now?" he asked. Those were his first words since the plane landed.

She swung her arms around, rotated her shoulders and hips, testing the fit. "It's awesome, Paul." She held him and looked straight into his eyes. "Don't worry about me, okay?"

"I know how tough you are. But still..." Paul looked away and could not finish the sentence. "Let's go," he glanced at his watch and pushed her away, moving back to his side of the car.

At this hour, the traffic was light. So in just sixteen minutes, they arrived at the club in Irving, halfway between Dallas and Fort Worth. As he pulled up to the parking lot, she rechecked her makeup one last time. Paul shook her hand and said a simple good luck. After she stepped out, he took the car to the back of the club, where there was an emergency exit. He parked behind a tree in the dark, where he could see but not be seen.

The red flashing neon signs announced the place as The Pussycats. It was one of many high-end clubs in the greater Dallas area. Just inside the entrance, half a dozen men stood in line, waiting to pay the cover charge of twenty bucks. As she wafted in, the men gave her a long appreciative look. She ran her fingers through her hair and smiled at them. One of them tried to ask if he could buy her a drink, but she was deep inside the club before he could finish his sentence.

She snaked across the crowded rectangular room, crossing four round stages in the middle, each with a girl swinging around the pole. On the far side of the room, where the bar was, a heavyset bartender noticed her. He had a tattoo on his neck.

"What may I get you?" his voice was oddly high-pitched.

"Gin and Tonic," she leaned forward to whisper in his ear.

"You're new here? I've never seen you before?" he handed her the drink.

"Second day. I was dancing upstairs last night."

"In the VIP rooms?" His eyes drifted south to her cleavage.

"Yeah. I'm going to do the same tonight. The money's better."

"Smart girl. What's your day job?"

"I'm a student in UT Arlington. What's that tattoo?"

"A green dragon. I got it in Thailand. I was in Nam, before you were born. Are you dancing in Room California?"

"Yes. How did you know?

"Our best customers use California. It's the biggest and the best. Don wants nothing but the best girls in the best room."

"I got to go," she reached for her purse.

"No worries about it. It's on the house. Drinks are free for dancers. Didn't anyone tell you?"

She smiled, waved at him, and trotted upstairs. This was her usual routine, steadying her nerves by having one drink before a big job. The VIP rooms, ten in all, were all named after one of the fifty states. The room nearest the stairwell was Florida. The room at the end was California. She counted down the rooms, her heart pounding faster with each step. She turned the corner and saw a muscular man in a sleeveless shirt standing outside California. He had narrow eyes and a scar on his left cheek. He looked like an enforcer. 

"We have to search you, babe," his voice was Eastern European, probably Russian. "Turn around, face the wall, hands to your side, and legs apart." She complied. The search was meticulous, exploring every square inch of her body. His hands lingered around her chest. When the search was over, he opened the door, waved her in, and remained outside, locking the door from the outside.

The room was smoky and the music loud. Three rows of leather cushions formed a U-shape. Two men were relaxing on opposite sides of the room, drinking and smoking. The more mature man on her right looked like the boss, she thought. It matched the description given by Paul. In his 50s, he was round and fleshy faced. His neck was almost invisible. His gut protruded out so that when he moved, waves of fat moved in the same general direction. He must be at least 300 pounds. A girl was seated on his left. Although the room was dimly lit, Susan could see that she wore a red see-through dress. The other man, sitting alone, was tall and thin. His face was as rough as the surface of the moon. He motioned for Susan to join him. It felt cold when she joined him on the leather seat.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Rocky." The name could not be any less fitting. "Yours?"

"Candy. Is he your boss?" She let his hand rest on her thigh.

"Yeah. Don is my boss." His other hand went behind her, rubbing her back. Gradually, both hands moved south. The hand in front tried to move her zipper. The one behind moved into her shorts.

"Hey Rocky, whose that leggy blonde you have over there? Let's trade." Don nodded to the girl in his arms, indicating she was to move over. Susan pushed Rocky's hands away and was glad to switch to Donald.

"What your name?" Don patted the chair to signal that she should sit. She sat and crossed her legs away from him.

"I said, what's your fucking name? Or should I call you whore or slut?" He raised his voice to spit out the three words.

"My friends usually call me bitch." She was calm and smiled, retaining control.

"I see," he was impressed and raised his eyebrows. He did not expect this line. God, this was no ordinary cunt. "So bitch, will you dance for me? I like it slow. I want you to remove your whore top after the first song, then your slutty shorts after the second."

Susan stood in front of him and gyrated slowly to the tempo of Tina Turner's "Private Dancer," slowly rotating and twisting her hips. At six feet tall on her four-inch boots, she towered over him like an Amazon. Don sat up and watched, putting away his glasses to concentrate. From the corner of her eyes, she noticed that Rocky was now on his back, the red dress straddling him.

Susan decided the time was right. In one swift motion, she grabbed the bottle of whiskey and struck him on the forehead. Multiple rivers of blood flowed. Pieces of glass stuck to his head and face. "What the fuck," he staggered. Susan circled to his back. With the jagged edge of the broken bottle, she hooked into the soft tissues of his neck, twisting and turning it until the rivers of blood turned into an avalanche. The music was so loud Rocky did not hear a thing. "What's love but a second hand emotion," Tina continued. Rocky closed his eyes and enjoyed the pumping action of the girl in red, moving in tandem with the beat.

Susan opened the door calmly. She asked the enforcer for directions to the ladies room. He pointed downstairs and closed the door. Her top was soaked with alcohol and blood was on her left cheek. The Russian thought Don had taken out his recent gambling losses on her. He drank in the sight of her sashaying down the hall, and promised himself that he would one day possess her.

Downstairs, the crowd had thinned out. The bartender with the green dragon had been replaced by a woman. Only two of the stages had dancing girls. She walked slowly to the back and pushed the emergency door. Upon seeing her silhouette, Paul turned the key and stepped on the gas gently. The car rolled to a stop. Every muscle on his face was tense.

Right after Susan swung her legs in and shut the door, someone in the backseat declared, "I have a gun pointed at his head. Get out and stand facing the wall." She recognized the bartender's sharp voice. "And don't do anything stupid or I'll blow his brains." The odds of successful counteraction against a determined gunman with a hostage were close to zero, especially in confined space. So she obeyed.

The bartender handcuffed Paul to the steering wheel, turned off the ignition, took the keys, and stepped out. He approached Susan, but stood at a safe distance of ten feet. He had been warned about her. She saw his shadow moving to fish out a cell phone with one hand. He dialed with his left hand, the right hand keeping the gun steadily pointed at her. His eyes never left her. He was a trained professional.

"I got the bitch. As per agreement, she's all yours."

Seconds later, the Russian angrily flew out of the emergency door. Wasting no time, he kicked at the back of her knees, forcing her to kneel. The bartender tossed a set of police-issued handcuffs to the Russian. Cussing in Russian, he twisted her arms behind and clicked the cuffs on her wrists. Not satisfied, he yanked her hair and forced her to pivot on her knees to face the bartender, who pistol-whipped her. She fell sideways, hitting the hard pavement, but riding the fall by moving in the same direction. The Russian kicked her several times until she was face down on her stomach. Placing his knee on her back, a thick hood was placed over her head. She breathed hard against the fabric, triggering both men to laugh. To fully immobilize her, the bartender locked her ankles together, and then forced them back until they hook against the chains of the handcuffs. With her chained like a dangerous wild animal, the Russian consulted his boss on the phone.

"I've secured the whore. She's not as tough as they say." The Russian spoke with a heavy accent. "Where do you want me to take her?" 

She was close enough to hear the reply. "Take her to the farm." The voice on the other end said. She thought it was Rocky on the other end, but was not certain.

"What about Paul?" the Russian asked.

"I'll deal with him myself." The voice said. 

"Sorry about that," Rocky said as he unlocked Paul's handcuffs after the full-size van with the hogtied Susan disappeared into the horizon. "The money has already been wired to your account." Paul rubbed his hands to bring back the blood. For Rocky, it was hard to read Paul's poker face. Rocky guessed that Paul must be having mixed feelings. After all, betraying a close partner could not be easy.

"Can I borrow your phone?" Paul asked.

"Of course." Rocky replied. Paul called his contact in the Cayman Islands. They verified that his account had been enriched by $100,000. "I've done my part, and have been paid. I see no reason to hang around."

"Here are your keys." Rocky handed back Paul's car keys. They shook hands briefly.

"Tell your boss it was nice doing business. So long." Paul said through the car's open window as he turned the ignition. He drove off before Rocky could reply.

Paul took the rental car back to DFW. Four hours later, he was comfortably resting in a window seat, flying over the Texas Panhandle. Eight hours later, he boarded Singapore Airlines in Los Angeles International Airport. A day later, he had checked into a one-bedroom suite in Hong Kong's Sheraton. Jet lagged, he would sleep for the next twelve hours. When he woke up, he went to the Kowloon electronics district. He bought a few circuit boards, a soldering iron, and several recycled components. In his hotel room, he assembled a small radio. He was ready for his next mission.

Meanwhile, ten thousands miles away, in East Texas, a building stood in the middle of hundreds of acres of land registered to a company based in Hong Kong. Although everyone in the Green Dragon called it a farm, there were no cattles, chicken, or agriculture inside the fenced-in wooded land. Under the building was a sound-proof windowless basement.

Two sets of parallel chains hung from the high ceiling of the basement. A single handcuff was attached to the extreme ends of the chains. In the handcuff was Susan's wrists, which lifted her hands high above her head. A 2-foot bamboo separated her knees, rendering her free ankles useless. Except for her boots, she was naked. No one else was in the room. But she was watched by four cameras mounted on all four walls, capturing every second of her agony. Through her glazed eyes, she could make out the red dot on the camera in front of her. She tried to sleep but was unsuccessful. Each time her mind drifted off, her wrists protested whenever it had to support her entire weight.

The sun had risen an hour ago. Rocky was having breakfast with the Russian. They were seated at the deck of a seven bedroom house. From the deck, they could not see another building, road, or any other man-made object. The location was so secret only a handful of men in the inner circle of the secret society were aware of its exact location. Even the Russian was taken blindfolded to the farm.

Six senior men, all chiefs of major cities, were on their way to the farm. They were scheduled to arrive at DFW airport in the morning. Even though they were leaders, they too would be driven blindfolded to the farm. They had been informed that a contract killer had tried to murder the chief of Dallas. But she had been betrayed. She was fed the wrong information and had done them a favor by killing the decoy. The decoy used to be one of them. But he had secretly talked to the FBI and the order had been given from San Francisco to erase him.

Although Rocky was not professionally trained in the art of interrogation, he had read the declassified CIA documents. He learned a thing or two about total control, humiliation, and breaking a subject. The key was to depersonalize the victim and strip off all sense of normality. He had tried the techniques and found them to be surprisingly effective against tough guys. He could not wait to see if the same skills would work on a woman.

Rocky looked at the live feed of her on his cellphone. He turned the phone to show the Russian the images of her suffering body captured by the four cameras. Her head was down, her hair stuck to one breast, and her legs trembled. The men chuckled.

"You think she got beauty sleep last night?" The Russian was not good at humor.

"Ivan, the cruel way you chained her up, I doubt the slut got any sleep at all." Rocky recognized the power of flattery. All employees needed praise and recognition, even tough guys.

"What's going to happen when the chiefs arrive?"

"I'll let you run the show. You're the expert."

"I assume you want to project your power and let everyone know you're in control of your territory."

"As the most junior chief in the country, I also want to show respect to the other chiefs by not touching her until they arrive. All we've done so far is soften her resistance and give her time to reflect on her precarious situation." Rocky wondered if the Russian understood the meaning of precarious.

"You want to make her talk in front of the chiefs?"

"No, we'll save that for later. Go for humiliation. Treat her like one of those you kidnap to be whores. Make her beg."

"Ah, I see," Ivan's eyes light up. Transforming a girl from a virgin to a whore was his specialty.

"Play the good cop, bad cop routine," Rocky ordered.

Rocky and Ivan gobbled up their breakfast. The Mexican help took the dishes and brought more coffee. They both light up cigars and waited.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Last Mission Ch. 02



The Green Dragon gang was a highly-structured organization. At the top was the Dragonhead, Johnny Chan, who was based in Hong Kong. Decades ago, his father had founded the gang in Shenzhen, then a small town in China, just across the border from Hong Kong. Senior Chan ran it for 20 years, eventually dying in a brutal gang war that broke out in the early eighties when China first opened its doors to Western-style capitalism. When he died, his only son, Johnny, was sitting for his bar examination in Dallas, Texas. He had just finished law school in SMU.

After the funeral, Johnny moved half of the Green Dragon remnants to Hong Kong. The other half stayed in Shenzhen. Before his unforeseen death, his father had squirreled away millions in Switzerland. Johnny used the money to good effect, muscling his way into the Hong Kong nightclub market. The gangs in Hong Kong were no match for the brutality and discipline of his men born in mainland China. In just five years, the young Johnny had rebuilt the gang so it was now almost as big as his father's. Even better, most of its income came from legitimate businesses in Hong Kong. Only his men in Shenzhen, involved in petty theft and stolen cars, operated outside the law.

With the business in Hong Kong stable and profitable, Johnny turned his intellectual firepower to Shenzhen. He knew he had to either restructure the small-time operations there, or close it down. Unlike his dad, he did not want to be involved in the usual large-scale criminal businesses. Drugs, guns, gambling, and loansharking were all violent, dangerous, and attracted the unwanted attention of the Chinese authorities.

But the flesh trade attracted his attention. In his analysis, there was a growing Chinese demand for white women from North America. Any blonde-haired woman with a little cleavage would satisfy the curiosity of the newly rich Chinese businessman. Best of all, the risks were low and the profit margins high. Part of the reason for this was that the barriers of entry for a Chinese gang were substantial. At the time, not many Chinese had contacts in the Western world.

To be successful, Johnny would need to reactivate his old contacts from law school. Fortunately for him, some of his old SMU classmates were still struggling to pay off their student loans. He contacted Jeffrey Giordano, who worked as a public defender, and dangled in front of him the prospect of a trip to Hong Kong. Jeff was deeply impressed when Johnny met him in a meeting room on the fifty-fifth floor of a building in downtown Hong Kong.

"Hey Jeff, how have you been all these years?" Johnny spoke with barely an accent.

"Johnny! It's good to see you again." Jeff could not help staring out the window to the Hong Kong skyline. "You must be doing really well."

"Well, the economy is a little soft, but we're managing." One of Johnny's role model was Teddy Roosevelt. Johnny believed the best approach for business was to speak humbly but carry a big gun.

"It's even worse stateside. Some of our classmates took years to find jobs after law school. A few of them had to declare bankruptcies when their student loans kicked in." The effects of jetlag were beginning to hit Jeff. There was an awkward pause before he continued. "I was lucky to find a government job."

"How's your lovely wife and charming kids?" Law school taught Johnny that a good attorney would never ask a question he did not know the answer to. Johnny was aware that Jeff was divorced and that his ex-wife had full legal and physical custody of the kids.

"Johnny, if you don't mind, I don't want to talk about it."

"Of course," Johnny said in an apologetic way. "Jeff, you should get some rest after that horribly long flight. I'll ask my driver to help you check in. We'll see each other tomorrow night."

"Johnny, I know you did not bring me here just to ask about my family. Do you have a business proposal in mind?" Jeff may be tired but his mind was still sharp.

"We'll have dinner tomorrow and talk about it. You'll like the offer." Johnny stood up. "Let me ride the elevator with you. My driver is already waiting for you."

The next evening, Johnny shared the details of his plan. Jeffrey was glad he had made the trip. He'd be the point man in Johnny's ambitious plan to expand to North America. With his background as a criminal defense attorney, Jeffrey Giordano was the ideal man for the job. He knew all the capable ex-cons willing to sign up.

With Johnny's money and Jeffrey's contacts, Johnny and Jeff, affectionately called J&J in the underworld, dominated the two-way trade of women across the Pacific. Young Chinese women, lured with promises of high-paying modeling jobs in the U.S., ended up servicing the ever-growing American male appetite in smooth yellow skin. The return traffic was newer but equally strong. White women were kidnapped and smuggled into booming cities along the coast of the South China Sea. The victimized women were almost always poor, uneducated, and ignored by law enforcement.

By the late 1990s, Jeff had helped Johnny expand his empire to seven cities in America. Jeff was so capable Johnny had not visited the U.S. since he was a law student. Jeff recruited Rocky and the six other chiefs, who ran the operations seamlessly. They had never met Johnny and had no idea what he looked like. They only knew him as Mr. Chan.

Rocky knew Mr. Chan and Jeff were watching the live feed of Susan dangling from the ceiling. For the first time in his criminal career, Rocky had the honor of hosting the other bosses of the country in East Texas. Rocky had long felt that Green Dragon associates in New York, San Francisco, Los Angeles, Philadelphia, Chicago, and Boston did not respect the brothers in Dallas. After today, that would change. For Rocky, his time had come.

Somebody had questioned Rocky's ability and dared to send an assassin to kill him, someone who knew about his weakness for slutty women. But they had badly underestimated Green Dragon Dallas. Rocky had a first-rate crew who turned the tables on the hit woman. Although Rocky got a huge break because of Paul's treachery, Rocky did not believe in luck. He believed that a smart and driven man like him manufactured his own luck.

Rocky's thoughts were interrupted by a convoy of six vehicles. Each bulletproof Hummer carried a Green Dragon chief and his bodyguard. One by one, each of the six chiefs stepped out, followed by the bodyguards. Ivan the Russian, together with half a dozen Mexican men, helped them remove their blindfolds. Nobody grumbled because security was taken seriously by the gang. The visitors took a minute to adjust to the bright Texan sunlight.

"Hello, brothers. Welcome to the farm." Rocky took his time to hug each brother in turn, starting with the boss of New York and ending with Boston, in exact order of the size of each business. "Please come inside." Rocky led the group into the huge lobby occupying the entire first floor of the house. Ivan entered the house last. The Mexicans remained outside.

Ivan pushed a remote-control button. The image of Susan instantly filled up the wall. "For the first time in the history of Green Dragon USA," Rocky spoke with a formal tone, "one of our enemies put out a contract on a boss of the Green Dragon."

"This is outrageous," The boss of New York Joey Laria spoke up. "An attack on one of us is an attack on all of us." All the other bosses voiced their agreements. "And to add insult to injury, they sent a woman. What the fuck were they thinking?"

"Fortunately, she failed. Our brothers in Dallas are well informed," Rocky continued. "We knew she was coming days before, giving us a chance to set up a traitor to be killed. Donald, our assistant boss of San Antonio, had been seen talking to an FBI agent. We set it up so she thought Don was the Dallas boss. I was in the room when she killed Don."

"How did you trick her into thinking Don was you?" Joey asked.

"Her partner sold her out. He fed her the wrong information."

"Does the dumb blondie know she killed the wrong guy?" Joey seemed to be the spokesperson of all the other bosses.

"No. She also does not know her partner betrayed her."

"I'm not surprised she trusted the wrong man. After all, she's a woman. Women have bad judgments." The other bosses nodded in unison. Joey continued, "Besides, they're too soft and weak to operate in the criminal world."

Rocky did not agree with the last sentence because he had seen her in action. But he decided it was not a good idea to disagree with Joey in front of all the bosses.

"I would like to suggest we do not tell her about what I just told y'all." Rocky said with a respectful tone.

"Rocky, we are all honored to be here. This whore is really your business. We'd do whatever you want." Again, Joey spoke for the group. "Have you found out who hired her?"

"She and her former partner had been contract killers for the last five years. They are especially dangerous because they kill only people associated with major felonies." Rocky regretted his choice of words because his audience might not understand; he wished he had simply used the word crimes.

"You are avoiding my question. I guess your people don't have the street credibility to find out. What don't you come right out and say you don't know who's behind her?" Joey was pushing the envelope on acceptable behavior among bosses.

"Not yet. But we have the means to make her talk." Rocky took the high ground, remaining composed. "We have not interrogated her out of respect for all the bosses."

"Good speech," Joey applauded. The rest felt obliged to join in. "Let's cut the crap and make the bitch wish she was never born."

"I'm so honored everyone is here," Rocky maintained his deferential voice. "In a minute, we'll go down to the basement. Each of you should feel free to do to her anything you want. I only ask that she be kept alive."

The seven bosses went down the basement while the bodyguards relaxed in the lobby. Joey put one arm around Rocky, congratulating him for capturing her alive. The bosses sat down, except Los Angeles and San Francisco. The two west coast bosses, who joined the gang at the same time, stood on opposite sides of Susan. LA stood behind Susan, cupping his hands around her breasts, his manhood pushing against the small of her back.

"Beg for mercy and we'll go easy on you." SF licked her left ear and whispered to her.

She jerked to the left and spit at SF, her eyes defiant. The men on the sofa laughed at SF.

"Spitting at people," LA spoke loudly enough so the other bosses could hear him, "is not something a proper lady does." He looked at SF and said, "It's time to teach this cheap whore some manners. Get her on her knees and make her beg."

SF went to the pulley handle and lowered her hands. LA kicked hard at the bamboo attached to her knees, breaking it into two and freeing her legs. Both men stood triumphantly in front of her, grinning and intending to forcibly push her to her knees.

Seizing the opportunity, Susan used her freed legs to kick LA in the crotch. LA bent over in pain, letting out an unmanly scream. Before SF could react, she pivoted and swung on her cuffed wrists, kicking SF on the chest. Both men lost their balance, their bodies falling in slow motion, their arms and legs twisted together like a bad car wreck. Witnessing the incredible scene, the other city bosses burst out in roaring laughter. Joey left his chair and rolled on the ground, laughing until he choked and coughed.

"You motherfuckers are really not big enough to handle her," Joey said after he recovered his breath. "Why don't you novices sit down? Boston and Philly, you guys go show these west coast sissies how to fuck a cunt." Another burst of laughter came from the seated men. 

LA and SF was humiliated and reluctantly sat down. Philly got up, followed by Boston. Susan realized that Joey was the de-facto boss of the American city bosses. Without Joey, Green Dragon USA would quickly collapse as rival gangs in each city muscle into the lucrative flesh trade.

Boston produced a knife as he barked, "Stay still or I'll slice off your tits, cook them, and force you to eat them." Susan did a quick calculation and froze. She felt Boston's breath on her neck, his knife hovering near the soft tissue of her right breast. Susan took a second to memorize that he was right-handed, a tiny detail that might make a difference if the chance to escape comes.

"Get down on your knees and beg." Philly ordered. His face was oily, just like a Philly cheesesteak, another memory aid for Susan. He smelled like French fries.

To show they meant business, Boston pressed the tip of the cold steel an inch from her nipple, breaking the top layer of the skin. A thin line of blood drifted lazily to her navel. She bent her knees and slowly lowered herself. As she did so, Boston's knife explored the peaks and valleys of her chest, his left fingers casually flicked her nipples. When the chains on her hands were fully extended, her knees were still a couple of inches from the cement floor.

Rocky immediately saw the problem. He walked to the center of the room, carrying two new handcuffs, the key to the old cuffs, and a nylon rope.

Boston, who had worked with Rocky before Rocky's recent promotion, knew the drill. Shielding his knife, Boston yanked at Susan's hair, jerking her face upwards. Boston other hand went under her armpit, squeezed her right nipple, and twisted it hard. Susan let out an involuntary cry. With her mouth opened, Rocky stuffed the gun deep into her mouth.

"Stand up straight." Philly, who had also knew Rocky's style, took charge of the situation. "When we release your hands, cross them behind your back. Try anything stupid and Boston will leave a long scar on your face." Susan knew the last sentence was a promise, not a threat. The merciless brutality of the east coast wise guys was notorious.

The first pair of police-issued handcuffs locked her wrists behind her. The second set was used in an unusually cruel way. Her elbows were forced together until they touched, the handcuffs applied just above her elbows before they sprang back. Paul had told Rocky she was a black belt in karate. Locked down like this, it would be impossible for her to wiggle her wrists to the front. She was on her knees, but her legs were still free.

"Don't forget the legs, Boston." Rocky said with his index finger next to the trigger, the barrel of the gun still in Susan's mouth. Boston gathered the ropes, tied her ankles together, and wrapped the other end around her neck. With the modified neck-and-ankle hogtie, she was trapped in a kneeling position, unable to stand up. She spread her knees slightly apart to balance herself.

"Philly, she's now in a begging position." Rocky projected his voice so everyone in the room could hear him. "Let's see what you east coast guys got."

"That's sound like a challenge," Joey stood up. "Go sit down and let us show you." Joey blasted out of the sofa and motioned Rocky to get out of the way. Rocky sat next to Chicago. The west coast boys remained in their seats, defeated and crushed.

Susan was relieved to have the gun out of her mouth. She braced herself for Joey. Mentally, she filed away that Joey was in charged, even though this was Rocky's turf. Joey reminded Susan of Old Spice as his open palm connected with her right cheek. Her mind instinctively made a note that Joey was a southpaw.

With her wrists, elbows, ankles, and neck tightly restraint, she toppled and crashed sideways on the cement floor. "Get back to your kneeling position, you pathetic slut." Joey hollered as he enjoyed the sight of her tight muscles in her abs, back, and shoulders straining to recover her position.

"Do you need help?" Philly asked wickedly as he kicked her on her stomach just as she was about to balance on her knees. Boston joined in by punching her face. When Joey picked her up by her hair, she choked and coughed out blood. A line from her nose dripped blood to the floor.

Joey steadied her and held her firmly on her knees. "I want you, in your most slutty voice, to beg to be fucked with a real cock." He slipped two fingers into her to emphasize the point. She was dry and felt the scratch of his filthy fingernails.

Susan knew the gang would eventually break her. But it was important to hold out as long as possible. "The only way your tiny dick can get into my cunt is to tie me down like an animal. Release me and let's see how much of a man you really are. Or go fuck your own mother." Joey was taken aback by her response. He had never met anyone, man or woman, who dared to question his manhood. He was going to have to punish her. She had made it personal.

Johnny Chan, who was watching the scene on his 80-inch screen 13 time zones away, decided to intervene before the hothead Joey killed her. He wanted her alive to find out who the real enemy was. Johnny punched a long string of numbers, waiting anxiously as he saw Joey remove his thick leather belt. The belt landed repeatedly on her chest, drawing fresh blood where the gold buckle struck.

Paul, also 13 time zones away, was not watching the live feed of Susan's ordeal. But he knew where she was. Unknown to Rocky, Paul knew the exact location of the farm.

Rocky's phone vibrated.

"Rocky, it's me," Rocky recognized the voice immediately.

"Mr. Chan, what would you like us to do?" Rocky stammered a little.

"Pass the phone to Joey."

By the time Rocky got Joey's attention, Joey had strangled her until she passed out.

TO BE CONTINUED...



Last Mission Ch. 03



Susan was upside down, her legs spread and tied to the ceiling, her hands trapped behind with plastic cuffs. There was no one else in the room except Rocky and Ivan. All the visitors had left. The Dragonhead himself had ordered the party to be broken up.

She was barely conscious and had lost track of time as blood rushed to her head. She faded in and out of consciousness, her foggy memory trying to recall what had happened. All she could remember were the vicious beatings with a leather belt while she was hogtied in a kneeling position.

Rocky was comfortably seated on a La-Z-Boy, his legs crossed and his arms folded behind his head. Ivan was restlessly pacing around her, waiting for the green light from his boss to apply the art of interrogation. He had a beer in one hand and a cigarette in another.

The phone call from Mr. Chan had changed the initial strategy of humiliation before interrogation. Ivan was the acknowledged expert of the black art of making whores from ordinary girls. But Mr. Chan had reversed the order. He was keen to find out who Susan was working for.

"How long more?" Ivan had resisted asking for an hour.

"It'd been just an hour since Joey strangled her until she passed out. Let her mind and body recover. I want her to be fully conscious when we start the interrogation." Rocky had read that stress positions were more productive than violent beatings if the goal was information.

Ivan continued circling her, smoking and drinking continuously, unable to sit down. An hour later, Rocky's phone vibrated. The caller ID showed it was from Mr. Giordano, Rocky's direct boss.

"Rocky, I just got off the phone with Mr. Chan. The rumor in Hong Kong is that the bitch's name is Susan. She has been hired by someone inside our organization. Is Ivan near you now?

"Yes, but he cannot hear you." Rocky walked a few feet away.

"Let Ivan play with her for a while. But keep her alive. Call me back so we can talk privately."

"I understand."

Rocky was shocked at the news, but maintained his poker face as he turned to Ivan. "Mr. Giordano says he appreciates your skill very much. He wants you to start working on her. But make sure she's alive and available for further questioning. Mr. Giordano wants to deal with her personally."

Ivan was glad he finally got approval and grinned. "Don't worry. I always keep my sluts alive. A dead whore is of no use to our business." He pointed to his forehead to signal the wisdom of his thought process.

Through her half-opened eyes, Susan saw Rocky nervously fidgeting with his phone as he left the room. Alone now with Ivan, she shut her eyes to pretend unconsciousness. She could hear him removing his belt. She braced herself.

"I know you're awake, cunt." Ivan walked casually towards her. He knelt down on one knee to gaze directly at her nipples. Taking a long drag of the half-finished cigarette, he continued, "If you wake up and talk, I will go easy on you."

Susan weighed the odds and remained silent. She controlled her breathing, inhaling slowly, holding her breath, and then exhaling slowly. But Ivan was staring directly to one side of her cleavage. He saw her heartbeat jumped when he moved his cigarette so close to her breasts she could feel the heat.

"Last chance," he announced. Susan remained defiant.

Ivan pushed the cigarette into one nipple and pinched the other nipple, twisting the pinched nipple and using it to hold her body in place. Susan's long screams wailed off the walls. Without letting her recover, Ivan slapped her breasts, stood up, and whipped the leather belt between her legs. He was so mad that sometimes he missed, hitting the thighs. But when he hit the target zone, her piercing screams energized him. Droplets of blood formed and drifted down her shaved pubic area.

"Want to talk?" He stopped and was winded after a dozen whips. "This is just the appetizer."

"Look at you, catching your breath." Adrenaline pumped through Susan's veins, making her bold. "Looks like you're not even fit enough to fuck me. Maybe you can't even get your dick up."

Ivan removed his pants and stood over her. Holding his manhood with both hands, he said, "Bet you've never seen such a large one."

"Even my grandpa has a more impressive dick." She snorted.

Enraged, Ivan urinated in her face, walking around her to soak her upside-down hair. Susan closed her eyes and mouth to avoid the warm liquid. But she could not avoid the disgsuting urine in her nose, coughing and choking.

"If you're not going to talk, I'm sealing your mouth." Ivan decided he had enough of her trash talk. When he lighted another cigarette and pressed it against her pussy, her screams were muffled by the industrial-strength duct tape.

Outside, it was a sunny and cloudless day. The heat from the sun was intense, but Rocky was oblivious to it. He held the phone so tightly his ear was beginning to hurt.

"Are you sure nobody else can hear?" Jeff was concerned about security.

"Ivan is the only one here. And he's busy with the third degree." Rocky said.

"This is very important, Rocky. Do not trust anyone, not even Ivan. The contract on you came from within."

"Can you rule out anyone?"

"Sources in Asia say it could be one of the bosses. As for you, nobody knows if Ivan is loyal to you, loyal to another boss, or simply loyal to himself."

"What do you think I should do with Ivan?"

"Don't share everything with him. Vary your routines. Don't be alone with him."

"Who else knows about this?"

"Mr. Chan, you and me. Obviously, don't tell Ivan."

"Should I send Ivan away somewhere?"

"That is a great idea. Tell him I'm impressed with how he handled the bitch at the club. Give him a vacation in Las Vegas, where there're people who can keep an eye on him. Do that before I see you tonight."

Rocky was stunned. Although Ivan was not too intelligent, he had always demonstrated undying loyalty to Rocky. Rocky considered how to break the news to him as he walked down the steps to the basement. When Rocky unlocked the door, Ivan was tormenting Susan with a sharp needle pushed into her breast.

"Boss, this is one hell of a tough chick. I've never seen anyone able to resist more pain." Ivan sounded frustrated.

"You're doing a great job, Ivan. The boss wanted to recognize your effort by rewarding you with a Las Vegas vacation. He gets to eat, drink, and fuck as many women as you want." Rocky handed a suitcase full of cash.

"Thanks, boss. When do I leave?"

"The driver is waiting for you outside."

When Jeffrey Giordano arrived, Susan was tied to a metal chair bolted to the floor. She had been cleaned up, and fed some food and water. Rocky knew that she had to be kept fully conscious for maximum effectiveness. Ivan's tactics might work for the purpose of humiliation and degradation. But interrogation of a stubborn subject required a higher level of skills.

After Ivan left, Rocky was alone with her, with her best chance of escape. But Rocky was very careful. He lowered her from her inverted position, and then used a stunt gun to immobilize her. Secured to the chair, her ankles were tied to the rear legs, with her knees tied to the front legs. Her wrists, forced back between her shoulder blades, were tied to her neck. Susan knew that her futile efforts to resist had almost run its course.

"Rocky, it looks like you're good with ropes." Jeff believes in positive strokes to motivate his team.

"I learned from the best of the best." Rocky was always respectful in front of his boss.

"What shall we do to crack this nut?" They were talk in front of Susan as if she did not exist. Susan tried to concentrate, focusing on memorizing the details of Jeffrey's face and voice. So far nobody had worn a mask to hide their identities. This was not a good sign for Susan.

"She had been thoroughly softened, needles in her breasts, whipped, cigarette burned, and golden showered." Rocky went through the list as if she was a patient in a hospital.

"Has she talked?"

"Not yet. I was saving it for you."

Jeff opened his suitcase and brought out a transformer, alligator clips and some insulated wires. He slowly plugged the cables into the wall socket and moved the transformer box in front of Susan, whistling as he worked.

"We're both professionals here," Jeff coiled his fingers around Susan's hair. "Talk now and avoid the pain, or talk later after suffering the pain. Your choice."

"There is nothing to say because I've signed a non-disclosure agreement. A lawyer like you should know that." Although Susan was completely naked—even her boots had been removed—she spoke in a tone appropriate for a corporate boardroom.

Jeff realized she was playing head games, letting him know she knew he used to be an attorney. Jeff was determined to win in this game. He had all the cards and would not hesitate to use all of them. Stepping forward, Jeff clamped an alligator clip on her left breast, adjusting so the jaws bit on either side of her nipple. He clamped the other end to the sensitive skin around her clit. Susan bit on her own tongue to avoid crying out. She was not going to give him the satisfaction so quickly.

Jeff nodded to Rocky, who pressed a button on the box. Susan jumped as the electrons coursed through. Her muscled and toned body trembled and twisted against the ropes. Rocky pressed another button and her body slumped, her head hanging down. Then Rocky pressed the button again, repeating the cycle at intervals of ten seconds. She screamed repeatedly until she lost her voice.

When Jeff removed the alligator clips, he saw that her bladder had emptied itself, flooding the chair and forming small pools on floor. Waves of spasm continued to wreck her body, even though Jeff had kept his electrical toy. Try as she might, her body simply refused to respond to her mind.

"Ready to talk?" Both men asked at the same time.

She shifted her gaze to Jeff, ignoring Rocky. "I will talk to you alone." Her voice was weak. 

"Let's show her she's not in a position to negotiate." Rocky balled his fist to strike her.

But Jeff waved his hand to stop Rocky. "Rocky, please leave us alone for a minute."

Rocky stomped out of the room.

"We're alone now." Jeff offered her some water and pulled a chair to sit near her.

"The cameras," she looked up. "I only want to tell you." Jeff disabled the cameras.

"Let's start by telling me your real name." Jeff spoke as if he was interviewing a new client.

"Come closer so I can whisper it. I've lost my voice." Jeff found Susan's new husky voice surprisingly sexy. When he leaned in, she said, "I'm Susan, pleasure to meet you, Jeffrey."

Jeff was surprised she knew his name. He tried to maintain control when he said, "You've resisted almost an entire day. Bravo. You should be proud of yourself. Now it's time to tell me who hired you to kill Rocky."

"Lean closer so I can spell his name." Susan slurred in her speech, giving the impression she had not fully recovered from the electrical torture.

When Jeff put his ear just an inch from her lips, she suddenly jerked forward and bit off his ear lobe. Jeff ran out of the room screaming and holding his bleeding ear.

"Keep me away from her before I kill her!" he hollered at Rocky. "Ship her to Mr. Chan with the other girls."

TO BE CONTINUED.
PLEASE VOTE AND SEND ME FEEDBACK.



Last Mission Ch. 04



The plane was converted from an old Boeing 727. It was spacious inside, with single seats running along the sides so that every seat was next to a window. The passengers consisted of twenty-five women and two Chinese men. In the cockpit were two male pilots, both African Americans. All four men were on the payroll of Green Dragon.

Of the twenty-five women, all but one was dressed in simple white T-shirts and blue denim jeans. As soon as the plane reached cruising altitude, the two Chinese men distributed cold peanut butter sandwiches and cokes to the twenty-four women. The men did not have sandwiches. They used the onboard microwave oven to heat up fried rice for themselves.

A lone woman sat at the back of the plane. She was naked and tied to the seat by thick ropes around her wrists, elbows, waist, thighs, knees, and ankles. The women noticed that she was not given any food. Instead, ice cubes were inserted in her mouth from time to time. She must have done something big to seriously offend the gang, the women thought. The women remained timid and did not cause any trouble during the long flight, for fear of offending the men.

It seemed to be an eternity before the plane landed in a private airport twenty miles from Hong Kong. A bus and a BMW approached the runway. The women squinted as they were marched into the strong headlights from the bus. The pilots were the last ones to board the bus, which rolled off and headed for a Green Dragon safe house in Kowloon, across the harbor from Hong Kong Island.

The remaining men cuffed Susan before cutting away the ropes around her. She was brought to the rear of the BMW. When the driver saw her in the mirror, he popped open the trunk. She was thrown into it, landing head first. One of the two men, the short and obese one, closed the trunk.

Inside the trunk, it was dark. Finally alone, Susan allowed herself a broad smile. She was now one giant step closer to her ultimate mission.

She could hear the men in the car speaking in Mandarin Chinese. Unknown to everyone in the criminal world, Susan was born to missionary parents in China. After both her parents died during her seventh grade, she was brought up by her grandmother in Seattle. Everyone thought she was just a regular girl who grew up in Seattle. Nothing could be further from the truth.

"I wonder what makes this bitch so important that the dragonhead wants to personally handle her," the taller wiry man said to the obese man. "What have you heard?"

"My sources tell me she is an assassin hired to kill our Dallas chief."

"But isn't Brother Rocky still alive?"

"Yes, she tried but failed. Her long-time partner betrayed her."

"A hit woman, how unusual." The wiry man spoke aloud to himself, not expecting a response.

The smell of chicken farms was overwhelming, prompting both men to curse. A string of vulgarities later, the BMW stopped. Susan heard the electric sound of the car window rolling down. The driver punched in an eight-digit code. The heavy steel gates rumbled as they slid noisily sideways, opening a gap to let the car in.

Johnny Chan was waiting when the BMW rolled to a stop inside the warehouse. The two men exited the vehicle, tipped their heads in Johnny Chan direction, and proceeded to drag Susan from the trunk. The warehouse was dimly lit, so she did not recognize him at first.

"Susan, welcome to Hong Kong. I am honored to finally meet you." Susan instantly recognized Johnny's voice. She had been studying his speech patterns for years.

Johnny continued, "I would shake your hand, except that your hands are locked behind." Susan bit on her tongue to suppress her strong desire to burst out laughing. She had been longing for this moment for a very long time.

Speaking to his men in Mandarin, he ordered that Susan be bounded to a heavy iron chair in the middle of the room. Her arms were crisscrossed behind the back of the chair. Her legs were spread, the ankles bent back and tied to the wrists.

Satisfied with his work, the obese man stood back from Susan, produced a pocket camera, and snapped several frontal pictures. The wiry man went to the car and carried a small box toward Susan. The box contained a pair of nipple clamps and a three-inch ball gag.

"Unlike other gangs, Green Dragon does not believe in violence for violence sake. We always give our enemies a chance." Johnny spoke as if he was giving the opening statement in a court of law. "You are a smart lady. Why don't we cut a deal?"

"Johnny, what are you offering?" Susan was impressed that Johnny had not called her names so far.

Johnny was surprised she knew who he was, but did not show any emotion on his face.

"I am offering not to kill you, even though you are guilty of attempted murder."

"You would let me go free, able to kill you or your leadership again?"

"I didn't say that."

"You'll let me live but I won't be free. Paint me a picture of what my life would be."

"Susan, you know very well my business. You'll be one of my most sought after escort in my business. Many men prefer smart, educated, feisty women to simply another piece of meat."

It was obvious Johnny was using escort as a synonym for prostitute.

"You want me to be your sex slave for the rest of my life, is that correct?" Susan was asking Johnny a leading question.

"Are you accepting the offer?" Johnny liked to answer a question with another question.

"What do you want in return?"

"The name of the person who hired you to erase my head of Dallas."

"Have you not heard of assassin-client privilege?"

"Is that a no?" Johnny asked another question in response to a question.

Susan knew that it had been three days since her capture. Studies have shown that a captive was most likely to crack on the third day. Susan knew that. She also knew that Johnny knew that as well.

Without another word, Johnny signaled his men. The fat man inserted the ball gag in her mouth and secured it tightly so she could not breathe through her mouth. The ball was pushed inside her teeth, forcing her mouth to remain open.

"Because you refuse to talk, I am taking away your ability to talk." Johnny's tone turned from neutral to dark. "When you're prepared to talk, nod your head."

The thin man clipped the clamps on her nipples, carefully adjusting them to have maximum pressure at the tip of each nipple. When he pulled the chain connecting them, her nipples were painfully extended inches away from her body.

"Bring in water." Johnny barked his orders to his cell phone.

Two men brought in four buckets were brought in. Johnny stood back as all four men lifted up Susan's chair and inclined it. Susan's legs were now higher than her head. A wet tower was placed over Susan's nose. Water was poured for a minute. She was turned upright and allowed to breathe. The thin man adjusted her clamps, allowing blood to flow back and restoring sensation. The cycle was then repeated.

She lasted almost an hour before nodding her head. It was long enough to appear convincing to Johnny.

"Remember I have other sources too. Tell me the truth or you'll suffer a painful and slow death." Johnny announced in a matter of fact manner as her ball gag was removed.

"It's Joey of New York," Susan confessed between thundering coughs. To reward her, Johnny removed the clamps.

"Second question, is Ivan the Russian part of the plot?" Johnny offered her some water to stop her coughs.

"Yes, he was there when Paul and I met with Joey."

"I'm going to confirm what you said. If you lied to me, I'll slice off your skin layer by layer, rubbing salt in until you go mad. You'll take at least four hours to die."

Johnny punched numbers into his phone as he walked out of the warehouse. He offered Paul another $100,000 if he would verify the treason of Joey and Ivan.

TO BE CONTINUED



Last Mission Ch. 05



She was tied spread eagled to a king-sized bed. For the first time since her capture, she was no longer naked. A front-hooked bra top covered her breasts, and a long skirt covered her spread legs. Johnny's two trusted bodyguards, the wiry man and the fat man, had dressed her. Their theory was that most men preferred to have the fantasy of making love to a girl next door rather than to a paid whore.

Susan had worried that she might be killed as soon as she talked. That would put an end to her personal quest for vengeance. It was a gamble that she was willing to take. Although the odds were heavily against her, she could not see any other way.

After she had implicated Joey and Ivan, Johnny contacted Paul.

"Want to make some more money?" Johnny asked.

"What are you offering?" Unknown to Johnny, Paul had just completed another mission and was in Hong Kong.

"Same as before."

"One hundred grand?"

"Exactly."

"Do you need to take care of a man or do you need information?"

"Information about who ordered the hit on Rocky."

"I'll give you two names, but it'll cost twice as much."

"You're greedy." Johnny said it in a matter of fact manner.

"It's just business." Paul was not offended.

"I'll pay one hundred big ones. If the first answer is what I expect, I'll pay the other hundred big ones."

"I need to see the money first. I call you back when it's wired to my account."

Johnny walked back to the warehouse and gave banking instructions to the fat man. Although he spoke in Mandarin, Susan understood every word. She had to fight the urge to laugh out loud. Her plan was working.

When Paul saw the first hundred grand in his account, he confirmed that Joey was the mastermind behind the attempted assassination. After the second grand, Paul listed Ivan as a co-conspirator. Johnny's tone was calm and even as he repeated the news to the fat and thin men in Mandarin. Susan dared not opened her eyes for fear that her eyes might betray her celebratory mood.

Immediately after obtaining positive confirmation that Susan told the truth, Johnny ordered that Susan be taken to the whorehouse, which was across the border in Shenzhen. Rich businessmen in Hong Kong would be shuffled to Shenzhen to experience women from all over North America, Russia, and Asia. Johnny liked to think of himself as an entrepreneur providing pleasures that were taboo in many societies.

They allowed her to sleep in a spread eagled position for several hours before the training started. Unlike in Dallas, the training regime in China was very basic. Women were repeatedly raped until they were numbed and desensitized.

After the second day, she heard the skinny man say to the fat man in Mandarin. "Have you heard Joey was shot last night in his girlfriend's house?"

"Yeah. I heard Mr. Chan hired Paul to do it." The fat man raised his eyebrows to show he was not surprised.

"That Paul. Have you heard he was paid another $100,000 to off Joey?"

"And another $100,000 to kill Ivan."

"Ivan is dead too?"

"He sure is. A pal of mine was hired to make the bodies disappear."

"I wonder what Mr. Chan sees in Paul. He must have made something like half a million of our hard-earned money by now."

"Be careful not to talk like that." The fat man had been around longer, and knew it was never a good idea to second guess the supreme leader.

Overhearing the conversation gave Susan the energy to continue enduring the long nights.

Like the other women in the Shenzhen facility, Susan had to handle 3-4 men every hour, 6-7 hours each night. After five days, she was considered seasoned and trained.

At the crack of dawn one day, the fat man examined Susan closely before he called Mr. Chan. As usual, the men conversed in Mandarin.

"She's ready to service the clients," he said to Mr. Chan in Mandarin. It was obvious he was waiting for Johnny to make the final decision.

"What do you think I should do?" Johnny had been with his trusted bodyguards so long he consulted them from time to time.

"If I may say so sir, I don't see how she can ever be trusted with our clients. Best case, she kills our clients and disappears. Worse case, she kills them and comes after us."

"Give me some time to think it over."

Johnny wished there was another way. But the more he thought about it, the more he agreed with the fat man's line of thought. He called back after 15 minutes.

"Fatty, make her dig her own grave at the construction site. Do it tonight." The construction site was green dragon slang for the remote areas outside Shenzhen, where the enemies of the gang were buried.

What a waste, Johnny thought. Susan was the only woman he had ever met that was mentally tough enough to be his equal. She was the type he respected; his kind of gal. Together, they would have ruled the criminal world. Too bad it was never meant to be.

Although Susan was able to only hear one side of the conversation, she figured out what was about to happen. She knew her last chance of escape would have to be in the next few hours.

Susan was seated between Fatty and Skinny. Her wrists were handcuffed together in front of her. Her left elbow was chained to Fatty's elbow, and her right to Skinny's. The car, a Buick built in China, was rolling along at a steady clip.

At the border, the driver rolled down the window and handed over $1,000. The immigration officer glanced for just a second into the car, saw the green dragon tattoo on the driver's arm, kept the money, and waved them on. He pretended not to see the naked woman sandwiched between the two men.

The Buick continued another 50 miles north, pulled off the highway, and meandered along the two lane village roads. The full moon was shining overhead when the Buick climbed almost to the top of a small hill. The three passengers exited.

The driver opened the trunk, removed a single spade, and passed it to Fatty. The last task the driver did was to unlock the elbow locks.

"See you two in the morning," the driver said to the two men gleefully.

Susan was made to walk in front of the two armed men, her wrists still handcuffed in front. At the top of the hill were two rectangular shapes of loose soil.

Fatty stood between the freshly covered graves and ordered in English, "Start digging a big long square." Fatty tossed the spade to Susan's feet.

Susan balanced her cuffed hands to pick up the spade. Dirt and mud covered her body as she dug and removed the lumpy earth. Both men stood on her left, holding a beer can with one hand and a gun with the other. She dug fast.

The full moon was now behind the men, casting long shadows. She was deep in the ground and could no longer see both men, but she could see their shadows.

Fatty said to Skinny in his native Chinese dialect, "Watch her while I take a piss."

Susan saw the shorter shadow move and disappear. Only the taller shadow remained. She looked at the angle of the moon, the length of the man's shadow, and estimated that he was standing two feet away from the edge.

"Fuck! Another rock," Susan yelled.

She saw the shadow moved in her direction. Skinny was looking into the hole, his right foot only inches away from the edge. Pretending to lift the spade to break the rock, she swung it above her, twisting it at the last minute so the sharp end clawed inside his right kneecap. Skinny's screams drowned out the sound of his fall into the hole. 

Another piercing scream filled the air as the spade was jammed into his neck, instantly decapitating him.

Susan picked up the gun from Skinny and was ready for Fatty when he came for her, the fly to his pants still open. Fatty was firing wildly and never had a chance. She squeezed the trigger calmly, dropping him with two shots to the head.

TO BE CONTINUED



Last Mission Ch. 06



The driver squinted as he drove up the hill. The sun was in his eyes when he spotted the lone skinny silhouette. He wondered where Fatty was.

"Where's the fat boy?" He asked in Mandarin, looking down and avoiding the sun.

The reply was in accented Mandarin and in a female voice. "He and Skinny are both dead. Follow my instructions carefully or you join them. I will bury you myself."

"I'm just an independent contractor. I'm not a Green Dragon employee. Please spare my life. I have five kids and a lovely wife." The words galloped up of his mouth in record speed.

"Where were you planning to take Fatty and Skinny?"

"To Johnny's best nightclub, where he is celebrating with an American." 

"Do you know where I can get some club wear at this hour?"

"Yes, I have a friend who is the supervisor of a garment factory. The factory runs 24 hours. I will call him now."

"Put him on speakerphone so I can hear everything." Susan ordered.

Considering the sudden change, the driver adapted quickly to the new environment and operated so smoothly Susan would usually make a mental note to use him the next time. But this was a last mission and she would be retired or dead in a few hours. 

*****

"What's taking Fatty and Skinny so long to join us?" Johnny wondered aloud to Paul. They had been drinking the entire night and expected the two bodyguards to join them in the morning.

"She's an attractive woman. They're probably fucking her brains out before burying her." Paul hoped Johnny did not detect that his voice was unnatural and filled with a tad of regret. 

"I don't think so. I gave them strict instructions to stick to the job. As you know, Chinese men are more disciplined that you Americans. They wouldn't dare to screw around with my instructions, no pun intended."

"Yes, I'm sure you're right about that." Paul was surrounded by two of Johnny's best girls, one a Russian brunette and the other a tall Chinese girl from the northern province of Liaoning.

Johnny himself sat alone. He did not have any interest in his own products. "You know, Paul, I would be honored if you would be my partner in Green Dragon. After losing Don in New York, we're weak and the other gangs have moved into our turf. I know you have the smarts to not only run New York, but eventually the entire USA as well."

Paul was genuinely surprised the supreme leader thought so highly of him. "I'm flattered, Johnny," Paul stopped caressing the Russian and looked Johnny in the eye. "Make me an offer I would find impossible to refuse."

Johnny leaned forward, "That's what I like about you, the no nonsense approach."

"No point beating around the bush. Might as well name the number and let the negotiations begin." Paul's hands were no longer touching either woman. His arms folded across his hairy chest as he switched to business mode.

"You're one heck of an impatient man. Let me go to the restroom and then we'll talk specifics." Johnny got up to leave the large room with thick carpets.

Johnny was barely two steps out of the room when Paul hurriedly fished out his phone. He punched in a four letters into his phone—"soon."

The entrance to the men's room was angled in an L-shape way, so there was no need for a door to separate it from the rest of the nightclub. Upon entering, a patron would see a row of urinals on his left and another row of cubicles on his right.

Johnny went to the urinals. He took a deep breath and rehearsed aloud his opening offer to Paul. It was his usual way of getting ready. Since law school, Johnny had used the same bathroom routine to calm down for a big moment. He thought of every important speech as if it was an opening statement in a criminal trial.

"Paul, I do not want to insult your intelligence," Johnny rehearsed. "How about starting with a base salary of one million, with incentive payments based on the cash flows you generate in New York?"

Unnoticed by Johnny, a woman tiptoed out of one of the cubicles. They could not see each other because of the wall separating the urinals from the cubicles. She wore a black tube top, denim skinny jeans, and converse shoes. Her blonde hair was in a ponytail.

Johnny was holding his dick with one hand and his pants with another. She was barely one step from him before he caught her reflection off the shiny metal of the urinal. Instantly, he recognized Susan, but it was too late. By the time he reacted, she was behind him pulling hard at the wires around his neck.

Johnny tried to elbow Susan, but did not connect. His next move was more successful. He kicked back against Susan until they both crashed into the mirrored wall. Broken glass penetrated her bare shoulders, but she held on firmly to the wire. She tripped his legs and he fell headlong. She was on top of him, with her knee between his shoulder blades.

Johnny knew he had to buy time until someone in the club started to look for him. Choking through the wire, he hollered, "Susan, tell me who paid you to do this?"

Susan relaxed her grip just enough to let him breathe, prolonging the agony. "Johnny, this one is personal. Nobody paid me." Then she tightened the noose again.

"But I've never done anything against you." Johnny declared in his dying breath.

Johnny's face was turning blue. She eased the pressure a little to let some color come back to his face. It was important for her to seek closure.

"Do you remember what you did the summer before your law school?"

Flashes of memory shot through Johnny's dying brain. "I was back in Shenzhen, carrying out my first kill with my father."

"That's right. Even though you're his son, you have to make the bones like everyone else in Green Dragon." Susan tightened the noose again. She enjoyed seeing the changing colors on his face. "Remember who you killed?"

"A missionary couple. What's that got to do with you?"

"They're my parents."

Paul left the nightclub after texting Susan. It was their agreement that they would never see each other again. He went back to the States and killed all the remaining chiefs of the Green Dragon. Then he sent word that the foot soldiers could either join him, or join their previous bosses. Most of them opted to join Paul.

The Chinese side of the gang became extinct. Without Johnny Chan at the helm, the gang quickly lost its credibility and disintegrated. Other gangs moved in and continued the lucrative business of human trafficking and the sex trade.

Without the Chinese connection, Paul deftly transformed Green Dragon into a loansharking operation. With the weak economy, his timing could not have been better. Business boomed and made Paul one of the most feared criminal entrepreneurs in the underground economy. He no longer had to kill, because he had hundreds of men willing to do it for him.

Susan retired to an upscale suburb in Australia. She invested in rental properties along the vacation beach fronts in Queensland. Aussie dudes found the Yankee gal tough in business, yet generous in bed. Nobody asked the gorgeous brunette about her past, which was exactly the way she wanted it.

THE END