Spike Spiegel's attack on the Red Dragons and killing of their leader
tore through the organization like a bull through a spider web. But the
strands of the web still hung there, quivering, waiting for the spider to
weave them back together.
Cho-Zhou, a man with no fame but with a bony finger in every pie of
syndicate making, had been the syndicate treasurer for longer than most
Dragons could remember. Reluctantly, pulled away from his abacus and his
desk, but with cold and ruthless efficiency, he salvaged what he could
from the disaster and began to rebuild what he couldn't save. He also
swiftly put into effect a plan to bring up a new leader for the Dragons.
One who was young, strong, and smart. And sane.
Spike Spiegel.
Sitting in his favorite room, a dimly-lit and thoroughly secure inner
sanctum, he folded his hands around a delicate cup, sipping strong green
tea laced with plenty of sugar, using the warmth and the flavor to clear
his mind while he prepared to listen to the audio--no video, he loathed
video--from the ISSP agent, Hitchcock, who was giving his report on the
success of their mutual project. Even listening was unpleasant for him. He
despised all the Dragons' ISSP agents. The honest ones had ideals, which
made them stupid, and the corrupt ones were weaklings. But he didn't mind
using them, particularly when they performed as well as Hitchcock and his
men had done. Their prompt actions had saved Spike's life, at least for
now. Therefore, despite his distaste, Cho felt it necessary to deal
directly with Hitchcock and stay in close contact with him.
Hitchcock's brisk voice alone was obnoxious. He had no understanding of
simple courtesy, but rudely jumped into business at once. "You requested a
progress report as soon as we were certain of anything, sir. Tomorrow, or
at most the day after, Dr. Chan says he'll be able to bring Spiegel out of
the cryoshell and begin the surgeries."
Cho set down his cup and folded his hands over his rounded stomach with
a faint smile. Even this late, he'd worried that Spike couldn't be saved.
Hiding the spark of elation, he said blandly, "That is satisfactory. Does
he anticipate complete success?"
"He seems confident, even with having only one assistant."
"You mean the other doctor, the woman? If she is as foolish as Dr. Chan
described her, can she really be trusted with the surgeries?"
"I think she's smarter than Chan gives her credit for. But he doesn't
question her medical abilities, only her general intelligence. And he's
right, she is naïve. I don't anticipate security trouble from her,
either. However," he hesitated, "another problem has come up."
There was always another problem. But Cho would never let his weariness
or irritation show to this tool. "What is it now?"
"It's Spiegel's cowboy partner, Jet Black. He's been asking questions,
poking around. And he's visited the gravesite."
"We are aware of this."
"You already have him under surveillance?"
"Him, and the others from that ship. However, he was once ISSP. You
know more about him, and what he is capable of, than we do. What is your
opinion? Is he a danger to us?"
Hitchcock thought a moment before saying, "He's called the Black Dog,
who bites once and never lets go. That was how he was known when he was in
the ISSP."
Cho lifted the cup of tea again and took a long, contemplative sip.
What to do about Spike's old associates was a delicate matter. He had been
unable to discover if Spike felt any affection or loyalty toward them. If
he did, then Cho had to be careful about taking action against them. After
all, the carnage in the old headquarters and Vicious' messy death had all
been sparked by the killing of a woman Spike had loved. Once Spike was
healthy, his loyalty had to be to the Dragons and only to the
Dragons. Spike had cut off the Dragons when he'd become a cowboy, and now
that he'd come back to the syndicate, it could be assumed that he planned
to cut off his cowboy life with equal thoroughness. But what if he didn't?
What if he'd changed? If so, the others would have to be taken out of the
equation, but it would have to be done in such a way that Spike never
suspected a manipulative hand.
The best way, of course, would be to kill them all and blame it on an
enemy. Cho sorted through his mind for the best candidate. The Monsoons
would do nicely. They were the most aggressive of all the rival clans who
were now gathering like jackals, hoping to pick over the bones of the Red
Dragons, yet fearful to make a move until they were sure the Dragon was
truly a corpse. How he looked forward to the day when the Dragon rose
again! The other clans, who were nibbling warily at every Dragon business
and stronghold, were even now being lulled into revealing themselves as
enemies. But Cho would not strike or reveal his knowledge of their enemies
until he was ready, which would be when Spike Spiegel rose from the dead
to strike them down as swiftly and surely as he had struck down Vicious.
Cho was doing all the planning and preparing all the traps, and he had
briefed the most trusted Dragon lieutenants. As soon as Spike was ready,
they could move. On that day, Cho would surrender the burden of leadership
and rejoice as he helped sweep up the remains.
"Sir?"
A line deepened between Cho's brows. He set down the tea cup with care.
"I accept your assessment. Jet Black is a danger. Very well. We
will handle him, however, in our own way. Tell your people to stay out of
it. And say nothing to Spiegel about any of this."
"Of course not."
"Have Dr. Chan report to me immediately after the first surgery."
"Yes, sir."
Cho reached out a long finger and cut the connection. He was tired and
had little remaining patience. He couldn't remember when he'd last worked
so hard or for such long hours. But the syndicate was his responsibility
now. More than 30 years ago, Mao Yenrai had personally chosen him to be
the syndicate treasurer, raising him from the clerical ranks to a position
of ultimate power and trust. He would hold the syndicate together now for
Mao's memory, and he would do whatever it took to hand the reins over to
Mao's chosen successor.
He poured more tea, wanting to purge himself of the taste of
Hitchcock's presence. Hitchcock believed that Cho wanted to lead the
Dragons, using Spike as a puppet front, which was a measure of how little
the ISSP understood the syndicates. A man was a leader, or he was not. The
syndicates couldn't be fooled. Cho knew he was not a natural leader. He
was too old, and his reputation as well as his nature was that of an
accountant. The Dragons looked to him now and followed him for two reasons
only — first, he had shown no hesitation in ordering the executions
of all the Dragon members who had deserted, and second, when the time
came, he would hand over the syndicate rule to Spike. Cho would have no
regrets on that day. By right of battle alone, Spike had earned it, and if
that were not enough, everyone knew Mao Yenrai had wanted Spike to succeed
him. Spike, not Vicious. Never Vicious.
Cho's hand tightened on the cup until the liquid trembled in it. He was
spitefully glad Vicious was dead. He could never have served the man who
had first sent to hell all of Mao Yenrai's plans for bringing the
syndicate into a new future, and then murdered him. Had Vicious been able
to offer what Mao couldn't, what Mao knew was needed, a young and vigorous
leadership, Cho could have continued under him. But Vicious was insane,
and his lust for power had been personal and had nothing to do with the
good of the Red Dragons. Eventually Vicious would have died — if no
one else had seen to it, Cho would have — but when Vicious had
ordered the death of that woman, his insanity had saved them all a lot of
time and trouble, and had brought forth a hero for them. Cho couldn't have
managed better if he'd planned it himself.
His hatred of Vicious, an emotion almost unknown to him before, had
prompted him to send a man to the ruined headquarters with the order to be
certain Vicious was truly dead and then see that the body was stripped and
left where it had fallen, food for the crows. When the building was
repaired, Cho planned to seal what remained into the walls and imprison
the man's spirit there for as long as steel and concrete would last.
He smiled faintly at the thought. Spike would appreciate the finality
of Vicious' entombment, and Cho wanted to do everything possible to please
Spike, to convince him that his destiny was to lead the Dragons.
But until he knew for certain that Spike had embraced that destiny, he
would be cautious. Mao Yenrai had loved Spike, and Cho did not want to
have to kill him.
Continue the story in beans
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