Black Heart, page 61
'There was a certain lieutenant his name is of no import to us - who led a particular Special Forces unit within the Daniel Boone operational structure. In reality, however, he and his hand-picked men were completely autonomous of Major Eiland or anyone else in the Daniel Boone Ops HQ.' Mizo smiled. 'Does this surprise you?'
'Nothing surprises me in a war,' Tracy said, thinking, I have to be very careful now. Slowly, slowly; it's obvious he's setting traps for me. Does he know? Quickly he shoved the question aside, trusting in time and his own joss to reveal the answers.
Mizo was nodding. 'Just so.' His expression was unreadable. 'Well, this lieutenant did not know the ultimate source of his command, only knew that whatever he requisitioned was immediately provided him, no questions or the usual Army red tape or snafus. He knew, too, that as secret as the Daniel Boone operations were from the prying eyes of the world, so were his own orders from all personnel around him and his men.
'As far as those few privy to the "Eyes Only" and "Top Secret" memos that directed the "Menu" operations were concerned, the lieutenant's unit was, as all the other Daniel Boone units, concerned with the destruction of COSVN HQ.
'Only the lieutenant and his four men knew the truth. Their mission also had a code name: "Operation Sultan".'
In the utter silence that ensued, Tracy said, 'Tell me Sultan's objective.'
Mizo nodded, his eyes closing for a moment. When his head «me up again, he said, '"Operation Sultan" was an ultra-
57i
sensitive counter-intelligence mission mounted in April of i^Q by... well, here my sources are slightly vague but the prevailing opinion is that the operation was CIA-financed.'
Tracy wondered if there was any way he could determine if Mizo was telling the truth.
'It was meant as a strike against the Viet-Khmer subterranean network set up and financed, there is little doubt by the PRC - the People's Republic of China - to flood the American-held sectors of the war with readily available heroin. A narcotic which, in Beijing's estimation, could devastate the US military effort by turning soldiers into addicts This is correct.' He stared straight into Tracy's eyes. It was not a question. 'Go on.'
'The operation field leader was hand-picked. A lieutenant well known for his brutality as well as for his cleverness m running such missions. This also is correct.'
'You're drawing this out unnecessarily,' Tracy said, fatigue sweeping in on him again. 'Get to the point.'
'As you wish.' Mizo settled himself more comfortably in his perch. 'It is my information and I know it to be quite correct that "Operation Sultan" went down on the US intelligence books as a total success.' 'What of it?' 'It's not true,' Mizo said. His eyes watched Tracy's face for
a reaction.
'The Khmer Rouge encampment in Area 350 was destroyed as ordered,' Tracy said. 'That's a fact. There was independent cross-corroboration of that. A back-up team was sent in; that's what they found. They also reported finding the ash remnants of a fire. The narcotics were burned.'
Mizo shrugged. 'Oh, perhaps a kilo was sacrificed on that altar. For just such a purpose. To fool a mop-up.' He shook his head. 'But believe me, my friend, the bulk of that shipment destined for American arms was diverted, not destroyed.' 'And I suppose you have proof of that?' Mizo spread his arms wide. 'How do you suppose I had this mansion built and three others as well?'
572
Tracy fought to breathe evenly. Prana. 'What are you
saying?'
'Simply this. I became the middleman for that shipment of heroin. And all the other subsequent shipments." He put his hands together. 'You see, the pipeline was never terminated as had been reported. It was merely turned. It still functions to this jjy.' Mizo smiled. 'I ought to know. I run it.'
Tracy felt dizzy with new knowledge. It seemed incredible but he had no reason to doubt the Japanese. After all, how else C0uld he have got such an intimate working knowledge of a highly classified foundation mission? There could be no other answer. Mizo's smile broadened. 'You look white, my friend. As if you'd just seen a kami. A spirit. I cannot blame you. After all, Sultan was surely a mission you would have been assigned had you not dropped out of sight.'
At least, Tracy thought, he does not know all of it.
'Who do you work for?' he said.
'The Mauritious Company,' Mizo said unhesitatingly. 'Do you know it?'
'No.'
'You should. It's owned oh, three or four times removed, of course; there's absolutely no danger in it by a former agent, the lieutenant who ran Sultan in the field. Delmar Davis Macomber.' He let one hand drop to his side. He was very relaxed. 'You may have even worked with him; Ban Me Thuot was a small enough enclave.'
Tracy was busy dealing with the flood of information Mizo was shovelling at him. Perhaps at another time it would have been all right. But as it was, without sleep, banged around considerably more than he had been in ten years, the strain of eluding the police while trying to outthink Mizo, it was all too much. He could not even begin to assimilate the ramifications of what he had just heard.
But Mizo seemed oblivious to his plight. 'Oh, yes, Macomber. A very smart man. He used his profits well, funnelling the money into the legitimate business he set up, Metronics, Inc. But ' find it fascinating that he still sells death, in whatever form.' Me leaned forward. 'Confidentially, I think the man is addicted
573
to it. He lives on the edge, continually walking a tightrope.' Tj^ hand at his side twitched like a dog's paw in sleep. 'It is how he
thrives.'
Fighting against fatigue and shock Tracy said, 'Why are y0u
telling me all this?'
Mizo smiled like a shark. 'Because you asked me to. I don't want to see Little Dragon harmed. I can live without the narcotics business now but, alas, I cannot survive without her.' Through the haze, Tracy recognized that something was askew. Yes, what Mizo said was true enough; it was how Tracy had set it up. But it had all come out too quickly, too easily. During the long day and longer night, he had come to know Mizo like an intimate. It was another day now but the man was the same, a Chinese puzzle of a personality. Macomber might, as Mizo said, thrive on death but the Japanese thrived on deviousness. Tracy did not believe for an instant that he was willing to let the narcotics network self-destruct around him without putting up a hell of a fight.
Tracy stared hard at Mizo. It was there, he knew, facing him. The answer to his question lay eight feet away. If he could only find it in time.
'Either you're lying '
'My friend, you know I am not lying. My facts are perfect; the truth itself is incontrovertible.' The hand flicked again. 'Logic must tell you that I have not lied.' 'Then why '
In that moment, he knew. As his right shoulder and arm went numb. He whirled but his reflexes were down. Little Dragon, on Mizo's hand signals, had moved on him. He had been concentrating so much on the Japanese, exhaustion and pain had done the rest, fogging out his peripheral vision, his normally clear thought processes.
The first two knuckles of Little Dragon's left fist slammed into the bridge of his nose. The shock blinded him and he felt the gun being wrenched out of his nerveless fingers as the adamantine facets of the outer circle of diamonds on her ring slashed across his face, blinding him momentarily and bringing blood and pain bubbling up through the rent skin.
574
He cried out, jerking back, using his ears as well as his brain, reaching back behind him for the can of shaving cream, his jjiurnb depressing the hidden stud only he and his father knew about as he heard the movement of the Chinese coming down off the staircase to join his compatriot.
Tracy marked the sounds, calculating distances without the use of his eyes as Jinsoku had taught him, saying Darkness is their special friend; make it yours also. You must learn to move in it, hear in it, see '" it >fight "* itso that You M/(" l've 'n ''an^ others will die. And fat y°u must If am not to fear it an instinctual thing within the species, though you may not even be aware of it.
He threw the can in an underhand toss, lifting the thing high in the air to attract the maximum attention, to take concentration off himself. He moved at the same time, up and back.
The percussion of the blast blew out the windows at the back of the house, shattering the glass outward in a fierce shower of multi-coloured sparks. White light that was no light at all suffused the room and the ground seemed to slide and shudder as if from an earthquake. Someone was screaming in a highpitched hysterical fashion and there was a great deal of grey smoke, at first ballooning outward on the rushing winds of the blast, then in the unholy silence that immediately followed, drifting lazily like summer clouds.
Dust filled the air, filtering down again in an inconstant patter like rain on a rooftop. The sofa behind which Tracy had jumped had been slammed backward, its far edge now jammed partway through the ruined floor-to-ceiling windows.
The top half of the antique screen had been sheared away, disintegrating in the first outward thrust of the blast. Of the two Chinese gunmen, there was little left. But the walls behind the spot where they had been standing glistened pinkly.
Tracy came up for air, took a further inventory. Little Dragon was on her knees, behind the sprawled junk of the Balinese table and remnants of the porcelain lamp. Her Shantung dress was torn away from her along one side as if by a vicious hand. Her flesh was reddened and beginning to swell; spots of high colour caused by slowly seeping blood began to
8row in a thin spiderweb network. She was rocking back and
575
forth on her haunches, her white fists clamped to her ears, her eyes squeezed shut.
Tracy searched for Mizo. He could not see him through the pall. He felt rather than saw the tiger about to climb his back He spun and dropped at the same time, saw Mizo's shape hurtling towards him, one leg stretched rigid, the foot held at the proper angle so that Tracy thought, Karate and, moving hjs torso obliquely to the right to take his head out of danger, lifted his left forearm, making contact just behind the lethal hammer of the incoming calloused heel, exploding his arm upward just after contact.
Jinsoku would have wanted him to go for the kill at that moment when Mizo was off-balance and vulnerable but Tracy did not have enough time to set his defence. All he had time for was the preliminary rejection of aggressive force and then Mizo was by him, recovering quickly and turning, scrambling over the bent and twisted frame of the sofa, returning with elbows and sword-strikes.
Tracy fell back beneath the rapid-fire assault. Even though he had been entirely shielded this time, he had just withstood his second explosion in four days; this one had taken more out of him than he had suspected. Though he had slept at the hospital and on board the Tanka junk, he now understood that his body required a deeper more lasting rest and he thought, the twentyfour hour flight home would do me just right.
Three sword-strikes had penetrated his defence, falling with heavy impact on his weakened shoulder, sending sheets of pain rippling through him, before he realized that his concentration was wavering.
He brought the flat of his hand up, ramming it against Mizo's chest, giving himself a momentary respite. He was breathing hard and the sweat was rolling freely off him so that his clothes clung to him clammily. He had three more of his fathers miniaturized devices in the case plastered against his breastbone but in his current condition he dared not employ them. His ears were ringing and his head swam; just the thought of enduring another percussion sent his flesh quivering, his teeth grinding-
He looked up. Mizo had broken off the attack and an interior
576
jlarm was sounding He caught a glimpse of the Japanese gambling over the broken back of the sofa He wondered ,yhere the other was headed and then, abruptly, he knew and, steeling himself, took one enormous stride, vaulting over the ^fa and Mizo in one blurred movement
He hit the carpet on his off-side shoulder, grunting involuntarily with the impact, curling himself into a ball, rolling He felt a pain in his side, scrabbled to his knees, fell back as the pain came again
He turned back, away from the Airweight lying on the carpet, the object of Mizo's search The Japanese screamed as he ground one heel down towards Tracy's face
Tracy rolled, felt part of the appalling force as the man drove his leg down and, jackknifing his lower body to provide the momentum, struck upward and over with the edge of his right hand Mizo doubled over and, in a rage, used three of the most complex and lethal kansetsuwaza - the techniques of dislocation
- as he came down on Tracy
Had there been sufficient room to manoeuvre or had Tracy's energy been at capacity it would have been all right Kansetsuwaza appear frightening and, indeed, are quite dangerous But Jmsoku had taught him how to handle them However, neither was the case and with the third, only partially deflected as he twisted and squirmed beneath the vicious assault, Tracy knew that his bad shoulder was about to give out If Mizo in fact managed to dislocate that joint he knew he would be finished In his current state of fatigue, he could not overcome such an opponent and the burst of pain inside him at the same time
He rolled and kept rolling, seeking time and Mizo, a canny enemy, would give him none He rolled with Tracy, raining Mows on him, working over his body, seeking again a way into that remjured shoulder, knowing as well that that was the key to his victory and, ultimately, Tracy's death
Then Tracy's back fetched up against something hard and all Ae wind went out of him as sharp prongs dug painfully into "is ribs Mizo was upon him, the configuration of his torso and lrms indicating that he was about to use what had already Corked so well for him, the kansetsu-waza
3H.-T
L
577
Tracy knew time was short - the ending of his life could be measured now in tenths-of-seconds. He reached around behitnj him, desperately scrabbling for a controlling grip on the object against which he had been forced. He brought his back away his torso forward towards Mizo and, simultaneously brought the object around and up. It was tremendously heavy and he gritted his teeth, putting the thing in motion as Mizo began his last assault, moving in so that there was just a breath of air between them, just that small space between life and death, the beating of a heart and the stilled breath, the glazed eyes, the end of all things.
Tracy felt the balance of the thing, thrust it forward with all the strength remaining inside of him, exhaustion giving way at just this extraordinary moment as the organism fuelled itself on the release of adrenaline, the adrenals and then, because of the serious depletion of whole energy, the pancreas absorbing the shock of the almost overpowering stress.
The object flew forward in a blur; Mizo was already a blur. He had turned himself into a missile of destruction and nothing could now deter him from his planned course of action: the space between them far too small, the complexity of the tactics and attack would take him in to his target before a change could be affected. If he had wanted to. Mizo did not.
At the moment of attack, the senses narrow down to a pinpoint: the small area of objective. In a final attack when the enemy is presumed hurt and the kill is to be effected, this is even
more so.
Mizo did not even see the object coming at him until it was far too late. Tracy was aware of his changing expression, the fierce warrior's countenance on the brink of victory being supplanted by a combination of emotions: confusion and disbelief chief among them.
Tracy had fetched up against the hammered brass dragon and this was what he used now against the Japanese, its sword-like tongue, barbed with mythical fire, penetrating Mizo's ribcage at heart level.
He twisted upward, trying vainly to counter his heavy momentum forward, to get away from the piercing pain that
578
^js already engulfing him He could not And Tracy rose up, s£raining all the harder, panting and swearing as he pushed jjiward The entire length of the brass tongue had twisted its way mto ^e ^es^ an<^ now ^e 8aPmg jaws tore through Mizo's skm so that he screamed and convulsed One of his ribs broke under the pressure of the attack, deflecting the point so that it just missed the heart But it ripped mto the lung, and blood from the massive internal bleeding began to pour into the
rent
Tracy saw Mizo was choking to death on his own fluids and broke off the assault The great dragon was too well embedded within the Japanese's flesh, the twisting tongue too barbed, for him to be able to pull it out
Mizo lay back amid the rubble of his house His breathing was stentorian and he coughed wetly with every other exhalation His face was ashen but his eyes were very clear
Tracy was aware that he was trying to say something and he bent down, putting one hand behind the other's neck to elevate the head
' Dragon ' It was a dry rattle and Tracy thought for a moment he was talking about the instrument of his death Then he began again 'Little Dragon ' He broke off, coughing worse than before Tracy judged he had little time Mizo looked up at him 'Take her take ' A fit of coughing overtook him, racking his body and covering him with blood He, too, knew it was time 'Take her to Golden Dragon '
'To the/ertg shut man7 Why?>
Mizo's eyes were fluttering closed, there was no colour left in his face All his blood was racing away from him, pooling in the torn cavity that had been his chest His lungs fought to work, failed His mouth opened one last time 'Her father,' Mizo breathed, 'loves her very much Return her to him
Tracy looked up from the dead man, towards the young woman still closed within herself, rocking gently back and forth, oblivious to them both He was more tired than he could eyer remember being but the knowledge that Mizo had given hm fuelled him
I
579
On leaden legs, he rose and walked stiffly through the rubble through the returning quiet of the Peak, towards Little Drag0tl The cicadas were whirring madly as he took her out of there into the blackness of the steamy Hong Kong night.
580
jfjm was holed up in a sleazy downtown Dallas hotel, waiting. He sat on the single bed, his back against the faded wallpaper. A day-old newspaper, obviously well-thumbed, lay folded beside him. He stared at nothing.
'Nothing surprises me in a war,' Tracy said, thinking, I have to be very careful now. Slowly, slowly; it's obvious he's setting traps for me. Does he know? Quickly he shoved the question aside, trusting in time and his own joss to reveal the answers.
Mizo was nodding. 'Just so.' His expression was unreadable. 'Well, this lieutenant did not know the ultimate source of his command, only knew that whatever he requisitioned was immediately provided him, no questions or the usual Army red tape or snafus. He knew, too, that as secret as the Daniel Boone operations were from the prying eyes of the world, so were his own orders from all personnel around him and his men.
'As far as those few privy to the "Eyes Only" and "Top Secret" memos that directed the "Menu" operations were concerned, the lieutenant's unit was, as all the other Daniel Boone units, concerned with the destruction of COSVN HQ.
'Only the lieutenant and his four men knew the truth. Their mission also had a code name: "Operation Sultan".'
In the utter silence that ensued, Tracy said, 'Tell me Sultan's objective.'
Mizo nodded, his eyes closing for a moment. When his head «me up again, he said, '"Operation Sultan" was an ultra-
57i
sensitive counter-intelligence mission mounted in April of i^Q by... well, here my sources are slightly vague but the prevailing opinion is that the operation was CIA-financed.'
Tracy wondered if there was any way he could determine if Mizo was telling the truth.
'It was meant as a strike against the Viet-Khmer subterranean network set up and financed, there is little doubt by the PRC - the People's Republic of China - to flood the American-held sectors of the war with readily available heroin. A narcotic which, in Beijing's estimation, could devastate the US military effort by turning soldiers into addicts This is correct.' He stared straight into Tracy's eyes. It was not a question. 'Go on.'
'The operation field leader was hand-picked. A lieutenant well known for his brutality as well as for his cleverness m running such missions. This also is correct.'
'You're drawing this out unnecessarily,' Tracy said, fatigue sweeping in on him again. 'Get to the point.'
'As you wish.' Mizo settled himself more comfortably in his perch. 'It is my information and I know it to be quite correct that "Operation Sultan" went down on the US intelligence books as a total success.' 'What of it?' 'It's not true,' Mizo said. His eyes watched Tracy's face for
a reaction.
'The Khmer Rouge encampment in Area 350 was destroyed as ordered,' Tracy said. 'That's a fact. There was independent cross-corroboration of that. A back-up team was sent in; that's what they found. They also reported finding the ash remnants of a fire. The narcotics were burned.'
Mizo shrugged. 'Oh, perhaps a kilo was sacrificed on that altar. For just such a purpose. To fool a mop-up.' He shook his head. 'But believe me, my friend, the bulk of that shipment destined for American arms was diverted, not destroyed.' 'And I suppose you have proof of that?' Mizo spread his arms wide. 'How do you suppose I had this mansion built and three others as well?'
572
Tracy fought to breathe evenly. Prana. 'What are you
saying?'
'Simply this. I became the middleman for that shipment of heroin. And all the other subsequent shipments." He put his hands together. 'You see, the pipeline was never terminated as had been reported. It was merely turned. It still functions to this jjy.' Mizo smiled. 'I ought to know. I run it.'
Tracy felt dizzy with new knowledge. It seemed incredible but he had no reason to doubt the Japanese. After all, how else C0uld he have got such an intimate working knowledge of a highly classified foundation mission? There could be no other answer. Mizo's smile broadened. 'You look white, my friend. As if you'd just seen a kami. A spirit. I cannot blame you. After all, Sultan was surely a mission you would have been assigned had you not dropped out of sight.'
At least, Tracy thought, he does not know all of it.
'Who do you work for?' he said.
'The Mauritious Company,' Mizo said unhesitatingly. 'Do you know it?'
'No.'
'You should. It's owned oh, three or four times removed, of course; there's absolutely no danger in it by a former agent, the lieutenant who ran Sultan in the field. Delmar Davis Macomber.' He let one hand drop to his side. He was very relaxed. 'You may have even worked with him; Ban Me Thuot was a small enough enclave.'
Tracy was busy dealing with the flood of information Mizo was shovelling at him. Perhaps at another time it would have been all right. But as it was, without sleep, banged around considerably more than he had been in ten years, the strain of eluding the police while trying to outthink Mizo, it was all too much. He could not even begin to assimilate the ramifications of what he had just heard.
But Mizo seemed oblivious to his plight. 'Oh, yes, Macomber. A very smart man. He used his profits well, funnelling the money into the legitimate business he set up, Metronics, Inc. But ' find it fascinating that he still sells death, in whatever form.' Me leaned forward. 'Confidentially, I think the man is addicted
573
to it. He lives on the edge, continually walking a tightrope.' Tj^ hand at his side twitched like a dog's paw in sleep. 'It is how he
thrives.'
Fighting against fatigue and shock Tracy said, 'Why are y0u
telling me all this?'
Mizo smiled like a shark. 'Because you asked me to. I don't want to see Little Dragon harmed. I can live without the narcotics business now but, alas, I cannot survive without her.' Through the haze, Tracy recognized that something was askew. Yes, what Mizo said was true enough; it was how Tracy had set it up. But it had all come out too quickly, too easily. During the long day and longer night, he had come to know Mizo like an intimate. It was another day now but the man was the same, a Chinese puzzle of a personality. Macomber might, as Mizo said, thrive on death but the Japanese thrived on deviousness. Tracy did not believe for an instant that he was willing to let the narcotics network self-destruct around him without putting up a hell of a fight.
Tracy stared hard at Mizo. It was there, he knew, facing him. The answer to his question lay eight feet away. If he could only find it in time.
'Either you're lying '
'My friend, you know I am not lying. My facts are perfect; the truth itself is incontrovertible.' The hand flicked again. 'Logic must tell you that I have not lied.' 'Then why '
In that moment, he knew. As his right shoulder and arm went numb. He whirled but his reflexes were down. Little Dragon, on Mizo's hand signals, had moved on him. He had been concentrating so much on the Japanese, exhaustion and pain had done the rest, fogging out his peripheral vision, his normally clear thought processes.
The first two knuckles of Little Dragon's left fist slammed into the bridge of his nose. The shock blinded him and he felt the gun being wrenched out of his nerveless fingers as the adamantine facets of the outer circle of diamonds on her ring slashed across his face, blinding him momentarily and bringing blood and pain bubbling up through the rent skin.
574
He cried out, jerking back, using his ears as well as his brain, reaching back behind him for the can of shaving cream, his jjiurnb depressing the hidden stud only he and his father knew about as he heard the movement of the Chinese coming down off the staircase to join his compatriot.
Tracy marked the sounds, calculating distances without the use of his eyes as Jinsoku had taught him, saying Darkness is their special friend; make it yours also. You must learn to move in it, hear in it, see '" it >fight "* itso that You M/(" l've 'n ''an^ others will die. And fat y°u must If am not to fear it an instinctual thing within the species, though you may not even be aware of it.
He threw the can in an underhand toss, lifting the thing high in the air to attract the maximum attention, to take concentration off himself. He moved at the same time, up and back.
The percussion of the blast blew out the windows at the back of the house, shattering the glass outward in a fierce shower of multi-coloured sparks. White light that was no light at all suffused the room and the ground seemed to slide and shudder as if from an earthquake. Someone was screaming in a highpitched hysterical fashion and there was a great deal of grey smoke, at first ballooning outward on the rushing winds of the blast, then in the unholy silence that immediately followed, drifting lazily like summer clouds.
Dust filled the air, filtering down again in an inconstant patter like rain on a rooftop. The sofa behind which Tracy had jumped had been slammed backward, its far edge now jammed partway through the ruined floor-to-ceiling windows.
The top half of the antique screen had been sheared away, disintegrating in the first outward thrust of the blast. Of the two Chinese gunmen, there was little left. But the walls behind the spot where they had been standing glistened pinkly.
Tracy came up for air, took a further inventory. Little Dragon was on her knees, behind the sprawled junk of the Balinese table and remnants of the porcelain lamp. Her Shantung dress was torn away from her along one side as if by a vicious hand. Her flesh was reddened and beginning to swell; spots of high colour caused by slowly seeping blood began to
8row in a thin spiderweb network. She was rocking back and
575
forth on her haunches, her white fists clamped to her ears, her eyes squeezed shut.
Tracy searched for Mizo. He could not see him through the pall. He felt rather than saw the tiger about to climb his back He spun and dropped at the same time, saw Mizo's shape hurtling towards him, one leg stretched rigid, the foot held at the proper angle so that Tracy thought, Karate and, moving hjs torso obliquely to the right to take his head out of danger, lifted his left forearm, making contact just behind the lethal hammer of the incoming calloused heel, exploding his arm upward just after contact.
Jinsoku would have wanted him to go for the kill at that moment when Mizo was off-balance and vulnerable but Tracy did not have enough time to set his defence. All he had time for was the preliminary rejection of aggressive force and then Mizo was by him, recovering quickly and turning, scrambling over the bent and twisted frame of the sofa, returning with elbows and sword-strikes.
Tracy fell back beneath the rapid-fire assault. Even though he had been entirely shielded this time, he had just withstood his second explosion in four days; this one had taken more out of him than he had suspected. Though he had slept at the hospital and on board the Tanka junk, he now understood that his body required a deeper more lasting rest and he thought, the twentyfour hour flight home would do me just right.
Three sword-strikes had penetrated his defence, falling with heavy impact on his weakened shoulder, sending sheets of pain rippling through him, before he realized that his concentration was wavering.
He brought the flat of his hand up, ramming it against Mizo's chest, giving himself a momentary respite. He was breathing hard and the sweat was rolling freely off him so that his clothes clung to him clammily. He had three more of his fathers miniaturized devices in the case plastered against his breastbone but in his current condition he dared not employ them. His ears were ringing and his head swam; just the thought of enduring another percussion sent his flesh quivering, his teeth grinding-
He looked up. Mizo had broken off the attack and an interior
576
jlarm was sounding He caught a glimpse of the Japanese gambling over the broken back of the sofa He wondered ,yhere the other was headed and then, abruptly, he knew and, steeling himself, took one enormous stride, vaulting over the ^fa and Mizo in one blurred movement
He hit the carpet on his off-side shoulder, grunting involuntarily with the impact, curling himself into a ball, rolling He felt a pain in his side, scrabbled to his knees, fell back as the pain came again
He turned back, away from the Airweight lying on the carpet, the object of Mizo's search The Japanese screamed as he ground one heel down towards Tracy's face
Tracy rolled, felt part of the appalling force as the man drove his leg down and, jackknifing his lower body to provide the momentum, struck upward and over with the edge of his right hand Mizo doubled over and, in a rage, used three of the most complex and lethal kansetsuwaza - the techniques of dislocation
- as he came down on Tracy
Had there been sufficient room to manoeuvre or had Tracy's energy been at capacity it would have been all right Kansetsuwaza appear frightening and, indeed, are quite dangerous But Jmsoku had taught him how to handle them However, neither was the case and with the third, only partially deflected as he twisted and squirmed beneath the vicious assault, Tracy knew that his bad shoulder was about to give out If Mizo in fact managed to dislocate that joint he knew he would be finished In his current state of fatigue, he could not overcome such an opponent and the burst of pain inside him at the same time
He rolled and kept rolling, seeking time and Mizo, a canny enemy, would give him none He rolled with Tracy, raining Mows on him, working over his body, seeking again a way into that remjured shoulder, knowing as well that that was the key to his victory and, ultimately, Tracy's death
Then Tracy's back fetched up against something hard and all Ae wind went out of him as sharp prongs dug painfully into "is ribs Mizo was upon him, the configuration of his torso and lrms indicating that he was about to use what had already Corked so well for him, the kansetsu-waza
3H.-T
L
577
Tracy knew time was short - the ending of his life could be measured now in tenths-of-seconds. He reached around behitnj him, desperately scrabbling for a controlling grip on the object against which he had been forced. He brought his back away his torso forward towards Mizo and, simultaneously brought the object around and up. It was tremendously heavy and he gritted his teeth, putting the thing in motion as Mizo began his last assault, moving in so that there was just a breath of air between them, just that small space between life and death, the beating of a heart and the stilled breath, the glazed eyes, the end of all things.
Tracy felt the balance of the thing, thrust it forward with all the strength remaining inside of him, exhaustion giving way at just this extraordinary moment as the organism fuelled itself on the release of adrenaline, the adrenals and then, because of the serious depletion of whole energy, the pancreas absorbing the shock of the almost overpowering stress.
The object flew forward in a blur; Mizo was already a blur. He had turned himself into a missile of destruction and nothing could now deter him from his planned course of action: the space between them far too small, the complexity of the tactics and attack would take him in to his target before a change could be affected. If he had wanted to. Mizo did not.
At the moment of attack, the senses narrow down to a pinpoint: the small area of objective. In a final attack when the enemy is presumed hurt and the kill is to be effected, this is even
more so.
Mizo did not even see the object coming at him until it was far too late. Tracy was aware of his changing expression, the fierce warrior's countenance on the brink of victory being supplanted by a combination of emotions: confusion and disbelief chief among them.
Tracy had fetched up against the hammered brass dragon and this was what he used now against the Japanese, its sword-like tongue, barbed with mythical fire, penetrating Mizo's ribcage at heart level.
He twisted upward, trying vainly to counter his heavy momentum forward, to get away from the piercing pain that
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^js already engulfing him He could not And Tracy rose up, s£raining all the harder, panting and swearing as he pushed jjiward The entire length of the brass tongue had twisted its way mto ^e ^es^ an<^ now ^e 8aPmg jaws tore through Mizo's skm so that he screamed and convulsed One of his ribs broke under the pressure of the attack, deflecting the point so that it just missed the heart But it ripped mto the lung, and blood from the massive internal bleeding began to pour into the
rent
Tracy saw Mizo was choking to death on his own fluids and broke off the assault The great dragon was too well embedded within the Japanese's flesh, the twisting tongue too barbed, for him to be able to pull it out
Mizo lay back amid the rubble of his house His breathing was stentorian and he coughed wetly with every other exhalation His face was ashen but his eyes were very clear
Tracy was aware that he was trying to say something and he bent down, putting one hand behind the other's neck to elevate the head
' Dragon ' It was a dry rattle and Tracy thought for a moment he was talking about the instrument of his death Then he began again 'Little Dragon ' He broke off, coughing worse than before Tracy judged he had little time Mizo looked up at him 'Take her take ' A fit of coughing overtook him, racking his body and covering him with blood He, too, knew it was time 'Take her to Golden Dragon '
'To the/ertg shut man7 Why?>
Mizo's eyes were fluttering closed, there was no colour left in his face All his blood was racing away from him, pooling in the torn cavity that had been his chest His lungs fought to work, failed His mouth opened one last time 'Her father,' Mizo breathed, 'loves her very much Return her to him
Tracy looked up from the dead man, towards the young woman still closed within herself, rocking gently back and forth, oblivious to them both He was more tired than he could eyer remember being but the knowledge that Mizo had given hm fuelled him
I
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On leaden legs, he rose and walked stiffly through the rubble through the returning quiet of the Peak, towards Little Drag0tl The cicadas were whirring madly as he took her out of there into the blackness of the steamy Hong Kong night.
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jfjm was holed up in a sleazy downtown Dallas hotel, waiting. He sat on the single bed, his back against the faded wallpaper. A day-old newspaper, obviously well-thumbed, lay folded beside him. He stared at nothing.
