until it stopped moving.
Meanwhile, Holmes edged forward and joined Laws. They stacked on either side of a doorway, descending to what had to be a basement. Ruiz helped Fratty to his feet, while Walker crept forward.
Holmes fired.
Another cry went up from one of the Triad members.
Walker charged down the stairs. One large Triad member stood, reloading his 9mm. He looked up at the same time Walker put two in his chest and one in his head.
Walker paused at the bottom of the stairs and glanced left and right. A single room with a couch, a table and some chairs, several cots with wadded blankets, and a television with slippery vertical hold. Three cigarettes still burned in an ashtray. Beside these sat Styrofoam cups filled with warm tea. Box lunches lay decimated at one end of the table.
If this was a place for the enforcers to wait, then there had to be two more things that he wasn’t seeing. One was a bathroom, and the other was a method of communicating with the outside. There could also be another exit. He took a step forward, then was roughly grabbed from behind.
“What the hell are you doing, SEAL?” Holmes wasn’t asking a question. “You wanna be a cowboy, go buy a horse. You wanna be a SEAL, follow my lead.”
Walker jerked his arm free. “He was reloading. I saw it and made my move.”
“You don’t have the right to make a move. We operate as a team. No individuals here.” Holmes glanced around. “Stay right here. Ruiz, you got our six?”
“Got it. Hoover took a bite out of the homunculus. I set wires across the stairs.”
“Good. Keep the dog away from the creature, please. Last time she ate one, she shit orange for a week.”
“Skipper? What about the women?” Fratty asked.
“What about them?”
Laws bent down to check the two Triad enforcers without holes in their heads. “We got a live one.”
“Fratty, leave the women for now. We’ll make sure a cleanup team comes and takes care of them.”
8
CHINESE SWEATSHOP.
Walker stayed where he was told, but he was fuming over Holmes’s treatment. He could feel the tickling of his cheeks as they burned red with embarrassment. But now he heard something that took his mind off of his own plight. What was it they were going to do with the women? Take care of them? What did that mean?
Before he had a chance to get an answer to his question, Laws had the live Triad enforcer by the back of the neck. He tossed the man into one of the chairs. Yanking his arms behind his back, Laws took flex-cuffs from his utility pocket and ratcheted the man’s hands together.
The Triad enforcer’s hair was cut short on top and had been shaved on the sides, like a Ranger high-and-tight. Air and water dragon tattoos climbed from under his shirt up the sides of his neck.
Deep red blood soaked his white collared shirt where he bled from a shoulder wound. Laws prodded at it until the man screamed for him to stop. He tried to stand, but Laws shoved him back down.
“ Bu zuo!”
The man’s eyes shot to Laws. Walker watched as understanding dawned on the Triad enforcer that this white guy could speak his language.
Laws grabbed one of the cigarettes still burning in the ashtray. He held it to the guy’s mouth and let him inhale. When he was done, he smiled amiably as he allowed the red-hot tip to hover teasingly next to the man’s wound before he replaced the cigarette in the ashtray.
“Ni jiao shemme mingzi?” Laws asked.
Fratty came in and joined them. He took another seat and snatched one of the cigarettes out of the ashtray. He took a puff, then coughed, tossing the cigarette to the floor. He pulled his pistol and shot the cigarette. “Shit tastes like ass.”
“Ni jiao shemme mingzi?” Laws asked again.
“Hong,” the man said.
“Says his name is Hong,” Laws said in a monotone. “But he’s lying. It could be a nickname, but that’s about it. Means ‘red.’ Like calling your kid ‘yellow’ or ‘green.’”
Holmes wore a deep
Meanwhile, Holmes edged forward and joined Laws. They stacked on either side of a doorway, descending to what had to be a basement. Ruiz helped Fratty to his feet, while Walker crept forward.
Holmes fired.
Another cry went up from one of the Triad members.
Walker charged down the stairs. One large Triad member stood, reloading his 9mm. He looked up at the same time Walker put two in his chest and one in his head.
Walker paused at the bottom of the stairs and glanced left and right. A single room with a couch, a table and some chairs, several cots with wadded blankets, and a television with slippery vertical hold. Three cigarettes still burned in an ashtray. Beside these sat Styrofoam cups filled with warm tea. Box lunches lay decimated at one end of the table.
If this was a place for the enforcers to wait, then there had to be two more things that he wasn’t seeing. One was a bathroom, and the other was a method of communicating with the outside. There could also be another exit. He took a step forward, then was roughly grabbed from behind.
“What the hell are you doing, SEAL?” Holmes wasn’t asking a question. “You wanna be a cowboy, go buy a horse. You wanna be a SEAL, follow my lead.”
Walker jerked his arm free. “He was reloading. I saw it and made my move.”
“You don’t have the right to make a move. We operate as a team. No individuals here.” Holmes glanced around. “Stay right here. Ruiz, you got our six?”
“Got it. Hoover took a bite out of the homunculus. I set wires across the stairs.”
“Good. Keep the dog away from the creature, please. Last time she ate one, she shit orange for a week.”
“Skipper? What about the women?” Fratty asked.
“What about them?”
Laws bent down to check the two Triad enforcers without holes in their heads. “We got a live one.”
“Fratty, leave the women for now. We’ll make sure a cleanup team comes and takes care of them.”
8
CHINESE SWEATSHOP.
Walker stayed where he was told, but he was fuming over Holmes’s treatment. He could feel the tickling of his cheeks as they burned red with embarrassment. But now he heard something that took his mind off of his own plight. What was it they were going to do with the women? Take care of them? What did that mean?
Before he had a chance to get an answer to his question, Laws had the live Triad enforcer by the back of the neck. He tossed the man into one of the chairs. Yanking his arms behind his back, Laws took flex-cuffs from his utility pocket and ratcheted the man’s hands together.
The Triad enforcer’s hair was cut short on top and had been shaved on the sides, like a Ranger high-and-tight. Air and water dragon tattoos climbed from under his shirt up the sides of his neck.
Deep red blood soaked his white collared shirt where he bled from a shoulder wound. Laws prodded at it until the man screamed for him to stop. He tried to stand, but Laws shoved him back down.
“ Bu zuo!”
The man’s eyes shot to Laws. Walker watched as understanding dawned on the Triad enforcer that this white guy could speak his language.
Laws grabbed one of the cigarettes still burning in the ashtray. He held it to the guy’s mouth and let him inhale. When he was done, he smiled amiably as he allowed the red-hot tip to hover teasingly next to the man’s wound before he replaced the cigarette in the ashtray.
“Ni jiao shemme mingzi?” Laws asked.
Fratty came in and joined them. He took another seat and snatched one of the cigarettes out of the ashtray. He took a puff, then coughed, tossing the cigarette to the floor. He pulled his pistol and shot the cigarette. “Shit tastes like ass.”
“Ni jiao shemme mingzi?” Laws asked again.
“Hong,” the man said.
“Says his name is Hong,” Laws said in a monotone. “But he’s lying. It could be a nickname, but that’s about it. Means ‘red.’ Like calling your kid ‘yellow’ or ‘green.’”
Holmes wore a deep
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