The Lost Kingdom

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN

Late afternoon in Taiwan and Callan Dudley had murder on his mind. The last thirty minutes had equipped him with an absolute wealth of information, everything this pathetic second Pythian team knew and how much King feckin’ Pythian had kept secret from him.

Blood pooled everywhere, its metallic aroma a healing salve to his distraught senses. From detonating the chain bomb to losing three members of the 27-Club in just a few minutes; to fleeing the battle; to meeting the Z-box team and understanding they were more trusted than he; to taking their legs and their arms in a matter of seconds and leaving them curled in absolute agony; his day had been grueling to say the least. Extracting information from the men had taken the edge off, allowed him to relax. Malachi kept him from tipping too far over the edge, reminding him that despite all their failings the Pythians were still extremely powerful and shouldn’t be left feeling too pissed off at the end of all this.

So they left one of their men intact and gave him two Z-boxes. Sent him on his way.

Dudley’s plan developed as the hours went on. He learned about the Yakuza, about Drake and his entire team, about Alicia Myles in particular. He learned all about the things that the Z-box could do — terrifying, apocalyptic things.

At one point he turned to Malachi. “Brother, tell me. Do we still have them bombs left?”

“Aye, we do. In the back of the car. And we now have access to a smuggler’s boat. Where do you want to go?”

“How much did that cost us?”

“Ah, the pilot don’t mind. Not where he is.”

Dudley grinned. The other remaining members of the club — McLain and Byram — had been absent, securing the boat, for over two hours. “This Z-box thing,” he nodded toward the packaged object. “Could be worth millions. Hundreds of millions to the right people, I guess.”

“Worth more than avenging our boys’ murders?”

“Nah. Course not. But we could cause a lot more damage with that sorta money now, couldn’t we?”

Malachi thought about it for a minute, mind straining, then said, “Feck it. Let’s just kill Drake.”

“Knew you’d say that.” Dudley’s grin was wide.

“Yer thinking to use the Z-box in some way?”

“That I am. Drake’s in Hong Kong. He wants us. We want him. The Yakuza want his bird, Kitano. I say a three-way meet.”

Malachi blinked, apparently shocked. “Yer talkin’ a three-way pitched battle in the streets, boy. Say what ya will, his team’s no pushover. And the Yakuza?”

Dudley watched his brother shaking his head. “Yer wimping out?”

“Nah. Was just thinking how much fun it’s gonna be when we dance a jig on their still-beating hearts.”

Dudley kicked a man hard in the ribs. “All right, we know from this fecker that the Jap cop’s some kinda liaison. They have his details from the Chinese. I say we contact him… arrange a meet, an exchange, and invite the wee gangsters to the party.”

“Party?”

“Tomorrow night in Hong Kong, the Pythians have organized some kinda high-society get together. The posh knobs think they’re donating to charity, really they’re funding terrorism. Same old, same old. We arrange a Z-box handover to Drake there, he’s more likely to believe it’s legit.”

“Ach, yer on top form t’day, Callan.”

“Must be the stench of blood in the air.” Dudley cackled. “The sound of them bones breaking.”

“Problem,” Malachi said. “When yer start talking they’ll know it’s you.”

“Why? I sound feckin’ Irish or something?”

“A little.”

“So we get one of these feckers to do it.” Dudley kicked out again. “Let ‘em live or let ‘em die quick. Whichever.”

“And how do we contact the Yakuza?”

“They have a head office in Japan.”

Malachi stared. “Feck off. Yer shitting me.”

“Nope. It’s there all right.”

Leaving his brother aghast, Dudley walked over to the Z-box. It was safe to say they had severed links with the Pythians now, but the fact that he’d still let them have two boxes should ease the blow. Using this last box to avenge both the deaths of his friends and past insults felt more than fitting, it felt justified.

He turned around. “Let’s get one of these feckers as close to normal as we can. The bleedin’ phone calls ain’t gonna make themselves.”

Malachi looked down at the bloody mess. “I ain’t stickin’ no one’s teeth back in.”

Dudley grunted. “Me either. Maybe we could hire a tramp or something?”

“Aye. I like the sound of that.”

“Then follow me brother. This is gonna be one hell of a lot of fightin’ fun.”