The Foo Sheng Key (2013), page 1
CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Previous Books
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Acknowledgments
The Simeon Scroll
The Doomsday Legacy
The Foo Sheng Key
By
Neil Howarth
COPYRIGHT
Neil Howarth
The Foo Sheng Key
© 2012, Neil Howarth
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.
All the characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.
For Gigi
Don’t know what I’d do without you.
Also by Neil Howarth
The Doomsday Legacy
The Simeon Scroll
*** For a limited time get The Doomsday Legacy for Free, go to the back page for details. ***
CHAPTER ONE
New Territories, Hong Kong
Lightning danced across the peaks of Tai Mo Shan, briefly illuminating the man through the unshuttered windows. He wore white coveralls and despite the surgical mask, his features were clearly oriental. His hand found the far wall just as the room was plunged once more into darkness. His fingers explored the tiled surface and quickly found the light switch. A single bulb cast a subdued, white light across a modern, well equipped laboratory. He crossed to a row of glass fronted cabinets. At the end was a small refrigerator with a security lock on the front. He punched in a code and opened the door.
Inside was a compartment with two racks of securely sealed glass tubes. Each rack contained four tubes. The ones on the left had red tops and were filled with a liquid resembling milky coffee, the ones on the right had blue tops and appeared to be filled with weak tea. He removed both racks and crossed to a bench in the centre of the room. He carefully set them down beside a Class III, Biological Safety Cabinet, designed to allow the operator to work on hazardous materials without being exposed. There were two large padded arm holes in the front and an observation window above them.
He pressed a button on the front of the cabinet, illuminating the inside, and opened a small access door in the side of the cabinet. He placed both racks inside, closed the door and thrust his arms through the two padded apertures, pushing his hands into a pair of attached, special autoclave gloves, resistant to heat up to 230º C.
He looked in through the glass aperture then reached across and opened an inside access door, which revealed the two racks of glass tubes. He moved them both inside the chamber and closed the access door. The cabinet was negatively pressured to prevent any leakage out into the lab. He took one of the glass tubes with the red top in his gloved fingers and with his other hand he twisted the top and broke the seal. He poured the milky liquid into a small ceramic dish, then repeated the action for each of the red topped tubes. He paused and took a deep breath. He could feel the sweat trickling down his back despite the fact that the lab was always kept at a cool temperature.
He steadied himself and continued with his task. He repeated the procedure for the blue topped tubes, and finally removed his hands from the gloves. He stared through the glass aperture at the small bowl of milky brown soup inside and offered up a small prayer. He pressed an orange button on the control panel on the front of the cabinet and at the same time pressed the red button at the side of it. A low roar emanated from the cabinet as it filled with pressurised, super heated steam, guaranteed to kill any living organism.
The man paced rapidly up and down the room, as the sterilisation process continued, glancing nervously towards the window to the outer room after each circuit. Then just as abruptly the sterilisation process ended, and the steam was evacuated through an internal filtered exhaust system. He thrust his arms once more into the attached gloves and opened another access door. He dropped each of the now sterilised glass tubes into a sealed disposal chute and exhaled a long breath of relief. He pulled his arms from the gloves and switched off the light, then crossed the lab and went out through a sealed containment chamber. He dumped his overalls and mask in a bin in the outer room and slipped out through the door.
“Starting early, Chew?”
The man called Chew turned around.
Major Yiang, the head of security, stood in the middle of the corridor, with his hands on his hips and a broad smile on his face.
Hong Kong Island, Hong Kong
The sweet tang of incense floated on the evening air. The woman sat easily in the lotus position, gazing into a pale yellow flame as it flickered gently in the breeze from the open window. The candle was held by its own dried wax in the centre of an ornately etched, brass dish, fashioned in the shape of a leaf. A single joss stick lay smoking on the dish beside it. A soft rhythmic clicking plucked at the night's silence, like an unseen insect hiding in the darkness. The woman rocked gently back and forth, her wrist maintaining the steady rotation of the Mani prayer wheel she held in her fingers. Her lips moved softly as she quietly recited her mantra.
" . . . . . . Om Mani Padme Hum."
The Mani continued its gentle clicking as the two-inch high copper cylinder rotated on its wooden handle. The woman let the soothing rhythm of the Mani calm her as she concentrated on her mantra, on each syllable, on each sound.
A single beep from an alarm clock on the far side of the room brought her out of her meditation. She glanced at the illuminated dial of her watch, it was time. But she was reluctant to begin what she knew she must, and she continued reciting her chant. Finally she stopped, and the Mani wheel clicked to a halt. She laid it on the table, but continued staring into the candle flame. Her fingers brushed the locket that hung on a gold chain, around her neck. She lifted it up so she could see it and pressed her thumb nail against the tiny catch. The front portion flicked open. On the left, cut neatly to the shape of the compartment, was a photograph of a young oriental boy. He had been ten years old when the picture was taken. The woman gently stroked the boys face, stinging tears spilled into her eyes.
"Everything is going to be alright," she whispered. "I promise you."
In the right hand compartment of the locket, a dark item lay curled up inside. The woman lifted it out and rubbed it gently against her cheek. It was a small lock of hair. She held it to her nose and closed her eyes. She could still smell him, that just bathed odour that a mother never forgets. Maybe it was more imagined than real, but he could have been there with her, sleeping peacefully in her arms. She pressed the lock of hair to her lips, then reached out and held it over the candle. The lock of hair burst into flames in a mild explosion. The woman dropped the flaming ball onto the candle dish, watching the flames rapidly consume it, then die just as quickly, leaving behind only a small residue of ash.
She stood up, picked up the dish and walked over to the open window, guarding the contents of the dish from the light breeze with a covering hand. The silver harbour lights of Kowloon danced on the far horizon, across the water from the island. A gentle gust caressed her face, flickering the flame, and stirring the ashes around the base of the candle. The woman held up the dish and leaned in close to it. She closed her eyes and blew sharply. The ash remnants disappeared on the evening breeze.
She looked across at the mobile phone, sitting silent on the desk. He had said, ‘No contact, unless an emergency’. She walked over and picked it up. She wasn’t leaving without knowing.
The phone rang once on the other end, a voice answered. It was a man’s voic
The woman took her a deep breath. “I just needed to know. Is it done?”
There was a silence that seemed to go on forever.
“There’s been a slight delay.”
The woman felt a pit open up in her stomach. She struggled to speak. “Is everything alright?”
“Don’t worry, just some bad weather, things are running a little behind schedule. But every thing’s going to be fine.”
“I am not leaving until I know.”
The voice on the other end was silent for what seemed like an age. “We talked about this. We agreed, we’re working to a plan, a timetable. You have to leave now.”
The woman sat for a moment, waiting for her panic to settle.
“Have you heard from Chew?”
“No,” the voice on the other end said. “But then he’s following orders. No communications unless there’s an emergency.” The voice was silent again, then. “So, are we good to go?”
The woman took a deep breath. “Yes,” there was a slight tremble in her voice. “I am leaving now.”
“Good, I’ll see you as agreed.”
She ended the call and dropped the phone into her purse, she turned around for a last lingering look. She was leaving with nothing, nothing but a single dream. On a low table over by the window, was a large, ornate, framed photograph - sunshine and smiling faces, a snapshot of another time when things were different. But nothing ever stayed the same. She wanted so much to take the picture with her, but he had been very clear on that - take nothing, everything must appear normal. She pushed all thoughts of regret from her mind and with a focused effort she headed for the door. As she reached it she resisted the urge to look back. Instead she stepped out and closed the door firmly behind her.
Her name was Su Li, Professor Sheng Su Li, though she was still in her thirties. Her slim figure and elegant beauty could have easily taken her into a much more glamorous job than the one she spent many hours of every day pursuing. She glanced at her watch. She was meeting Chew in an hour. She thought about her colleague and friend. They had come a long way together. In many ways this was much harder for him. She, really had no choice, but Chew did not have to do this, he could have stood back and not got himself involved. But as always, Chew showed his loyalty.
She emerged from the elevator and walked out into the front lobby, searching in her purse for her car keys as she went. She glanced out through the glass front door and stopped. Major Yiang stood at the bottom of the steps, arms folded, leaning against the black body of a Mercedes sedan.
She quickly pulled back. Luckily the main light in the lobby was out. One of the few times she had any cause to praise the maintenance staff. Yiang didn't appear to have seen her. She glanced towards the passage that led to the rear entrance. Unfortunately Yiang wasn't that stupid, he would have someone covering that door for certain. If she was going to brazen her way through this at all, she had to go out through the front. She quickly pulled her phone from her handbag. The man had given it to her the day before. It was supposed to be clean - or sterile, she remembered the word he had used. To be used for only essential communications.
She had composed the message the day before and left it sitting in the phone’s memory. She had hoped she would never need it. She pulled it up on the screen now and quickly fingered in a number stored deep in her own memory. She pressed the send button then hurriedly unclipped the back of the cell phone and removed the SIM card. She moved over to the side of the lobby and dropped the card down the back of a radiator, set into a recess in the wall. She moved over to the deserted reception desk and dropped the remains of the phone into the bin. Now she was ready. She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. Her tongue felt dry and parched. She was afraid she would be unable to speak when she got outside. She took another deep breath and pushed open the front door.
"Major Yiang, what a pleasant surprise."
"He wants to see you." Yiang gave a thin lipped smile. "He says it is urgent."
Su Li glanced up the street. She could see her own car parked a few yards further up. She descended the front steps and stood in front of him. She was a good two inches taller. She knew it intimidated him.
"I have an urgent appointment. I will come and see him when I have finished."
"He wants to see you now."
Su Li could see Yiang was not going to be bullied, not today. She gave him a resigned shrug.
"Okay, I will follow you in my car."
Yiang opened the rear door of the Mercedes.
"It will be fine where it is."
Su Li gave a last look up the street and climbed in.
The moonlight filtered through the apartment window, illuminating the large ornate picture frame standing on the table. The photograph was set amongst great snowy mountains, though the sun was shining bright and clear. Su Li stood with one arm around the shoulders of an older man, with hair as white as the surrounding snow. They were both beaming wide grins. Standing just in front of them, with both their hands on his shoulders and an equally wide smile on his face, was a young Chinese boy.
Nepal-Tibet Border
The storm system had started a thousand miles to the north west, pushing below it 5000 feet of dark, festering cloud. It had begun dropping rain across the central plains of India, but by the time it had reached the Himalayas and swept on down through Nepal, it had turned into a swirling maelstrom of snow and ice. The winds sucked into the low pressure centre were dragging in the storm clouds and forcing blizzard conditions down into the mountain range.
The Sikorsky HH-60G helicopter, known as the 'Pave Hawk', could fly in almost any weather conditions – almost. It wasn't so much the visibility that was a problem, though the narrow mountain gully they were traversing was giving the two pilots plenty to concentrate on. They were relying heavily on the forward looking infra-red radar, and the ring laser inertial navigation system linked up to the global positioning system, to guide them forward. What was more disconcerting was what the storm was doing. As the elements hurled themselves at the mountain range, periodically the storm would jam the air down into the narrow canyon increasing the air pressure, then just as suddenly release it, like pulling the stopper for unblocking the drains. This had two effects, the air pressure dropped rapidly, then higher pressure air from beneath the storm came rushing back in to equalise it. The net effect to the Pave Hawk was like wave hopping across a stormy ocean on a windsurfer. Only these were air waves in an ocean less than a hundred feet across, with sheer rock walls at each side. Which left the Pave Hawk ducking and swinging through the narrow mountain pass in close to zero visibility.
"Major,” the pilot in the left hand seat spoke into his mouthpiece. “We're going to have to turn back. This weather's getting worse."
The young special forces major, clad in black fatigues with large grey splashes and dark grease smeared across his face, unclipped his seat belt and head set and staggered forward to the cockpit.
"You can't do that Lieutenant.” He shouted as he crouched down beside the pilot. “We've already sat back there on the ground for twelve hours waiting for this storm to clear."
The pilot looked across at his co-pilot, who gave him a nod. He lifted his night vision goggles and turned to look down at the major. "I'm sorry, sir, but I'm responsible for the safety of this aircraft and all the people on board. We're flying on the edge of what's possible and any second now we could find ourselves over the edge."
"I appreciate that, but this is too important. We have a mission and a deadline. We have to succeed. I can make a call right now, if you need some persuading."
"Sir, I can tell you now that my commanding officer will not override my judgement in a flying situation."
The major looked up at him. "I was thinking of calling the Secretary of Defence."
The pilot was silent for a moment. "You don't pull any punches, sir."
"I don't like this situation any more than you do. But I've got a job to do."
