Chameleon: The Adventures of John L. Steelhard, Book Two

By James B. Riverton

The ripping Adventures of John L. Steelhard continues with his team of Black Tigers adjusting their combat skills from the jungles of Indochina to confront the tangled boardrooms of international intrigue. With assistance from ancient artificial crystal allies, Steelhard with an advanced alien stealth suit, must penetrate and then defeat heinous fiends by uncovering layer by layer those who are betraying Earth under the command of the most immortal evil monster who has ever existed; an entity who seeks the final key, the hidden Ki gene from within the soul of Steelhard for the complete domination of the planet and the evolution solution to the human race.
It is the battle for Planet Earth and the mortal existence of mankind, all resting on the shoulders of the Black Tigers and the Chameleon, John L. Steelhard.

• Language: English
• Publisher: James B. Riverton
• Release date: Jun 29, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311206916

James B. Riverton

James B. Riverton is a man of mystery and has been described by some as being "the most famous man you've never met." A reluctant author who spent his youth on a journey of personal discovery, hiding in plain sight. The author was born in San Francisco, Calif. Raised in Texas, Europe and the Middle East while living on an oil tanker part- time, at the age of eight, traveling from England, and France, transporting crude oil from the Middle East to those countries, with his parents. Endless days and nights tramping along at five knots, back and forth. The author learned to swim in the Suez Canal while waiting to transit the canal, traveled through the ruins of Europe and Middle East observing the destruction from the Second World War first hand. He learned to communicate in different countries, sometimes with gestures and good cheer by sharing Hershey Bars with the local children to make friends. At the age of 17 the author joined the Navy to see the rest of the world and especially the Far East. Serving during the 1960's he served three tours of duty during the conflict in Indochina, seeing much of the Far East, and learning about the culture and the people. One of the highlights of his service was meeting President John F. Kennedy, a month before his death, prior deploying to the Far East while aboard the aircraft carrier USS Oriskany, CVA-34. Upon discharge, the author traveled, working overseas construction for Brown and Root, dealing cards in Las Vegas, bartending, waiting on tables in various exclusive resorts, working as a Assistant General Manager in Vail, Colorado. In his travels during this period the author met and served movie actors, Senators, President Gerald Ford, and a host of characters of all walks of life. A graduate of Stephen F. Austin, with a BFA, the author wrote a few screen play outlines, and unpublished stage plays, but never found the time, or the desire to try writing novels. However, he did find the courage to pursue the love of his life, and after five years was successful, at the age of 37, to finally marry, starting a family. Over the next years he entered the world of Real Estate, selling homes, starting home building companies and developing land for residential use. This career of boom and bust carried his family from Texas to Washington, DC and back. Up and down, through thick and thin surviving roiling markets. During slim times finding alternate ways to support a growing family by starting up a successful pre-paid phone card and ad promotional business. Learning one of the most important lessons in life, raising children and learning how to be a father. Always, in the back of his mind remained the ultimate personal challenge, of writing a book, not for recognition, but to see if he could. During the 2008 financial collapse it seemed writing a book would maintain ones sanity. One book turned into a completed series, then more books, to the point that the next challenge was to publish this growing disease gumming up his personal computer. Someone explained writing a book was only 20 to 50% of the effort, the rest was sitting here inputting a personal bio and figuring out that it takes a whale of an effort to publish a book. All he can say is that after all he has seen, and experienced in life, that this is the most taxing thing he has ever attempted, and his hat is off to anyone that has ever contended with this process, let alone become successful. My only goal in life in the end has been to write, and it has become a joy to me. If one person reads anything that I write, and enjoys it, for whatever reason, then I have found success with this part of my life. If anyone can bring laughter or ethos into another's life, if only briefly, then what more can you ask for, except for a winning lottery ticket. My winning ticket has been family and friends, seeing the sun rise each day, thanking the main man for a great life and the passion to finally tell some stories. The author currently lives in Texas, and spends his quality time in the Hill Country and Houston with his wife, friends, family, and his German Shepherd, Yogi.

Book preview

The Adventures of

John L. Steelhard

as

Chameleon

A ripping epic of tantalizing adventure

by

James B. Riverton

Copyright 2013

All Rights Reserved

Smashwords Edition Copyright 2014

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without the written permission of the publisher.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination, or are used fictitiously.

John L. Steelhard™ Novels, no. 2

http://www.johnlsteelhard.com

Published by Lucky Lamb Publications 2014

Cover art designed by Guy Taylor Productions

ESO/Digitized Sky Survey 2. Acknowledgement: Davide De Martin

Dedicated to all the Black Tigers

SKC, MMW, Guy, JLJ, LSG

CLASSIFIED

TO SEE WHAT IS RIGHT AND NOT TO DO IT

IS

WANT OF COURAGE…

Confucius. Analects

The Adventures of

John L. Steelhard

as

Chameleon

A ripping epic of tantalizing adventure

by

James B. Riverton

CHAMELEON

Chapter 1

Ouch! Jesus, Mother of God, damn it all to hell, that hurt, David! Ah man, you piece of crap!

Well, you said to shoot you when I could see you, and now I can see you sneaking around the wall cabinet. Oh, no you don't, nailed your ass again, ha, ha, I bet that one stung like hell.

Steelhard was dancing and hopping across the floor of his warehouse loft, rubbing his rear where the .22 caliber bullets had struck him. Holy crap, that's it for the day, mother of God; stop it already!

Pop! Just one more to teach you a lesson, aha! Boy, you should see how high you jumped on that one! Ha-ha, too bad we can't get Collins in here; he's a much better shot than me. He would wear your ass out in no time.

Steelhard ripped the hood off the Ki suit, sweat rolling off his forehead, massaging his rear and lower back from the impact of the bullets. He walked over and took the smoking .22 caliber semi-automatic rifle gingerly out of David's hands, and placed it gently on the stainless steel kitchen counter top.

That's enough, already! Man, you seemed to really enjoy yourself today. I don't know if I will ever figure this damn suit out. Was I moving too fast again; how did you see me at the end?

I didn't! Then you moved in front of the chair and I saw your lower half, especially your rear end, and couldn't resist shooting you in the butt, ha, ha. I'll bet it really stung. I thought the suit protected you more, but it sure was worth it, getting to shoot you in your smarty-pants ass! Boy howdy, you really exposed yourself after that. The suit faded when you yelped, giving me another view, so I could shoot you in the back while you were jumping up and down holding onto your ass. Ha-ha! This is more fun than the shooting gallery at Coney Island!

Steelhard poured himself a stiff drink, Wild Turkey on the rocks, and offered one to David.

Here, Dead-Eye-Dick-Breath. We will continue this tomorrow when we have more time, and I recover. Son of a gun, you really blistered me today. I am going to review the micro crystal chip again and see if I can figure out what I am doing wrong. I have some features down, but I know I have only dented the surface of what the suit can do. What's the status of the money you removed from the Triad's bank accounts? Do they have any clue where it all went?

Nope, there is not a peep or inquiry on our end. The crystal computer swiped it like a pickpocket, writing a program instantly that acted like a cash withdrawal in seconds. It was there, then gone. Someone is paying for it right now, I am sure. We have over two billion dollars in one of our new Polaris accounts. We also raided their other accounts, following the transfer trail after someone tried to move the funds. This crystal computer system is wicked; it can sniff out and trace movement of money, all you have to do is just give it a starting point, like waving the scent in front of a bloodhound. They know someone is jacking with their money. I transferred four hundred million into our new Cayman operational account to see if we actually had control of the funds for your next sadistic plot. We have nailed them for over three and half billion.

And, do we have control?

Not a problem Captain Blackbeard since we own the bank or, should I say multiple banks now. The funds transferred clean and clear, apparently without a trace. It is a clean getaway. We can use their own money against them now; poetic justice.

No, I'm for some frontier justice. Pay back is going to be hell. How are you doing with the crystal computer? Besides, being a Titan of theft.

Slow; the same as you and the suit. This computer is tenth generation, a thousand times more powerful than the most advanced system available anywhere, and it definably has a mind of its own. Sometimes it punishes me by sending a message to get my act together. You have to understand that the rest of the world is just now developing first generation hardware and this software is unlimited in its scope in comparison to what is available today. Mr. Polaris said, when I get this one down, he would get me an upgraded computer that can utilize the software better. I mean, are you kidding me or what? I believe this system integrates collectively with other computers, somehow drawing on additional layers of memory and RAM, whenever it needs more computing power, like a collective. It also learns like some kind of artificial intelligence, interfacing with the operator. It is like a teacher instructing me, but pushing me to understand the system. This device is extremely sophisticated, with its own persona. Does that sound normal, and how is this even possible?

I don't have an answer for you, my friend. What about the Polaris accounts; have you been able to connect to them, at all?

A few, and when I did, it was a mind-blowing experience.

What do you mean, mind-blowing?

The first was the World Bank bonds we own, the underlying debt that Europe still owes for reconstruction after the Second World War. You know, the Marshall Plan. It seems the Polaris Foundation indirectly financed it through the World Bank. Congratulations, you now hold the bond rollovers on Europe, and the interest produced by the bonds, as the Polaris Foundation Trustee. You are now the richest man in the world, Mr. Steelhard. Plus, there are more accounts that I haven't gotten around to. So figuring out the best way to get a handle on the depth of the whole financial picture is daunting, to say the least.

In your opinion, what is the basis of all this? Where has all this money come from? You're talking about how much?

Well, John, I'm not certain, but I really think the basis for all these financial transactions could go back to the very beginning of financial time. All of these transactions seem to be within the Polaris Foundation's orbit. You are talking about trillions; every pot and pan that man has produced, sold, stole, or created has some relationship with this foundation, indirectly. There are hidden layers screening these transactions, but the system allows me to access the base or start up, then I am able to follow the upside to gain an understanding of each beginning financial setup. It is immense, far beyond any computer or accounting system other than this crystal system. It not only goes back to recent civilizations, but even further in the past than modern recorded time, or anything historically recognized.

What do you mean, how deep does this go?

I am guessing the Polaris Foundation may own Planet Earth. You may know more than I do about some of this history, but there is no way we couldn't shut down a country, a government or even all the banks in the world by calling in portions of their debt. The interest income created monthly is staggering, and I don't have enough background information on the origin of where all it is coming from, not yet. The Polaris Foundation Trust accounts are highly sophisticated coded programs that operate on their own, independently, waiting for input or requests from some kind of matrix. The crystal diode in the computer is now assigned to your DNA code, your Ki gene. It allows me to function as your comptroller. This totally integrated system has a mind of its own; Mr. Polaris, or something more complex, and it has been operating for eons. This crystal system has been the driver for the creation of civilizations financially, or it could just be a reactionary force to events in the making. It is possible that the matrix of this system started out doing one thing, and then, through time, became a caretaker, just waiting for a live operator to appear with the Ki gene. I am not sure, but I think you are the matrix now. It has been waiting for someone to show up that can sign checks, or use the lockbox features.

Screw me, what a trip! I feel like someone has dropped me on my head fresh out of the womb. How does the computer tie in to all of the world's information and financial systems to download data, and transfer funds? Jesus, I'm just plain worn out!

I don't know the answer to all of that; except that you're losing weight. You look like a walking corpse and I think your hair is falling out. At least you won't need to rent a Halloween costume this year. Somehow, the crystal resonates on a frequency that supersedes existing bandwidths, telephones, radio waves or any other secure communication systems in orbit. I have a theory that it exists like a magnetic field, which is able to penetrate matter, rearranging the electrons and atoms that make up various materials or data, possibly even software programs. It just sucks energy up for its own use and then rearranges the data with that energy. I believe it operates like your brain telling your body to go to the bathroom, or sing a song, play sports, or move your fingers. What I am telling you is that this system has been here for a long time, running the backbone of all financial transactions. It has been passive until now, conducting the flow of capital around the world, hidden beneath the surface, waiting for an active operator with a plan or direction. We have been given some low level toys to play with this system, in order to interact with it. We are in school my friend.

Whew. My next question is what is expected of us? This is a huge responsibility. I need a nap.

I would say that learning these two systems is our only responsibility right now. You have been selected, and I sure don't mean just selected for anything normal. There is an agenda here we are unaware of. The only advice I can give is we better learn how to operate these toys quickly, because if we don't there is going to be hell to pay if we come up short, or don't measure up.

David, how does the crystal system protect itself, with all these accounts? Couldn't someone just hack into the individual accounts, and do what we have done to them? Surely some institution would be aware of this backbone; I mean you are talking about a lot of capital spread out throughout the financial world. Someone must be able to tap into this database.

No; this is a tremendous artificial intelligence system with a super advanced anti-virus program that was created before banks were a twinkle in someone's imagination. We are talking about the ultimate Big Daddy here, a silent partner; the mainframe of everything you never knew existed. I can't even think of what or who developed it, but anyone trying to break into the system would be disappointed. It would probably destroy or wipe out the intruder's entire database. We are the first physical entity to withdraw, or use funds from these accounts, in our recorded history. It hasn't been used in recent times, to my knowledge, except to lend money for startups, construction or reconstruction purposes through the bond market for gaining yield point spreads. No one really knows who is behind the reinsurance industry that finances the insurance companies, or the entities that hold the loans on the capital that is lent to purchase a nation's bonds.

"Ok, but where does this money come from, on a day-to-day basis.

The world pays premiums or interest on debt, where does it all go? Now I know. It goes into various accounts that lead back to the hidden Polaris Foundation's holding companies. The system keeps the money moving so fast no one can track it. The capital is there for transactions and then it becomes a shadow that collects and reinvests, constantly accumulating interest, fees and the like. Think of it as one penny per day, doubled, but over eons. It owns nothing but debt, and the income generated by that debt. It has built up a tremendous backlog of wealth; think of an unlimited credit card, the largest American Express card in the world. Now you come along, an active entity that can actually go to the store and have it swiped to draw out a cash advance or purchase anything you need.

But where did it all begin in our recorded history, David?

Well, that is a good question. In ancient times, money lending and the establishment of clearinghouses were created for trade between entities, probably by this system as a backbone. It doesn't seem to care about the emotional decisions when it comes to dollars and cents; it mainly executes the program within its software. It doesn't care whether you have a trillion dollars in your account or ten trillion. The system just debits and credits the loan portfolio like a super adding machine, carrying forward the ever-growing accumulation of invested capital in the form of loans. It will not make a negative debit unless you personally authorize it. Another thing, it has a wry sense of humor; it is somehow alive and is enjoying having two idiots like us to play with. It has been lonely. I can't prove it, but it is tickled pink to have found you, a long lost cousin, or something like that. You are now a physical manifestation of its persona, a material connection into the real world; you're the boots on the ground, so to speak. Time has no meaning to this system. It could be one million years old, or twelve thousand. For the first time in recorded history, it has a physical entity that can go somewhere and actually sign on the dotted line, pick up a title, and become an owner of the wealth the system has in backlog. A computer can drive a car remotely, but it can't pick up a pen and sign for the title, physically open the door to load up a case of booze, or pull some sweet thing's panties down for a joy ride.

That is just absurd, David! How can you even come up with something like that? Do you mean this system can monitor our actions to some degree?

It notified me what to watch for when you were sneaking around, so I could shoot you in the ass. It got a big kick out of informing me, I might add. It lights up with different hues, and after a while, you start understanding them, like a different form of communication. I think it was laughing at you jumping around holding onto your ass after I popped you. It is connected to the suit and especially with you when you are all hooked up in it, and maybe when you are just wearing it without the connecting pieces. I don't know for sure. It may be a symbiotic relationship that has something to do with this Ki gene, or your genetic relationship to the Aquarians. You are like an infant grandchild to the whole system, the physical personification of its hopes, dreams, and future. It has been waiting for your birth for eons. So there is more than the financial system working here. Maybe like files within a computer program bank, a tickler system that gets activated upon need or demand. There is so much more to learn, and most of this is only my opinion, but when I operate the system it lets me know the program works for you. It somehow completely trusts you, or that Ki gene within you, but I really think it is more than that. You are the long lost relative, or program, come home to roost, so you had better get control of that suit. It is somehow connected to the crystal, and I believe there are more crystals stashed around the globe. Who knows what technology is integrated within this system, but trust me, this is huge.

So, what do you think the relationship is between the Ki suit and the crystal computer; how are they interconnected, in your opinion?

I can't really say, but the crystal computer or system is aware of the suit, and of your presence in it. If we stop and think for a moment, the suit is dormant until it is summoned out of the storage container; who or what does that is probably you, now. Then you put it on, but it doesn't actually activate certain functions until you connect the hood and gloves. So, it must be a plug and play system related upon two elements; your biological energy, and the crystal in the computer ramping it up like a battery. The crystal may act like a key to a door or a command and control center. Perhaps it is only an entry card, like pushing a key on a computer keyboard to activate elements within the Ki suit's software. Then the suit takes over, but is still in contact as a slave to the server, the crystal computer, that is interlinked with the crystal's mainframe somehow.

Where do I come into the picture? At some point am I just an energy source, or can I exert a limited amount of control on the system operations?

The crystal computer follows and monitors your progress while you are hooked up in the suit. I think why you are so tired is that the suit is draining your body's energy along with the crystal computer's energy charge. You have lost weight, body mass, and you seem drained mentally when you finish working with the suit. Even with your unnatural human strength the question is, can you sustain the energy necessary to operate the suit, or will it completely drain you? The suit may be like a battery that needs to be recharged from lack of use, but at some point, the power to generate the suit's systems has to come from somewhere. The real question is, can your body crank out enough biological and mental energy to make the suit function properly? I think that is why you appear in view suddenly at the end of the training sessions. The suit starts shutting down, conserving energy, especially if it is using power to act as protection from the bullet impacts. It must take a tremendous amount of energy to access all of the systems Mr. Polaris described to you. The former wearer must have been super advanced both mentally and physically. Plus, this suit was designed as a prison, confining the entity's power, perhaps even guarded by the crystal system like a jailer. Perhaps this is a case of building up your muscles and your mind, to take the strain of lifting more weight without breaking you. I am just throwing opinions out; you're the one inside the suit and on the hook here.

Well, hell's bells, Tonto, what do you recommend?

David reached over with a chuckle picking up the carbine off the kitchen counter, jammed another fresh twenty round clip in it, spinning around in his automated wheelchair and said with a shit eating grin, You'd better get busy Lone Ranger, and put the mask back on because I'm going to blister your ass some more, partner! Ha, ha, you'd better get along, little doggie! I am going to close my eyes, and then count to ten before I start shooting! One, two, and three...! I lied! Ha, ha, boy this is a rush, I can still see you! Pop, pop, pop.

Chapter 2

Lois! Lois! Goddam it! I…

You don't have to shout, Admiral. I am right here and if you don't learn how to use the new intercom system I am going to just up and quit. You are such a big baby; why haven't you read the operational manual to save all of us from the grief of having to listen to your bullying? I think you just like to shout. Here, again… push this button to engage the intercom, then you can call anyone you want, push this one to conference and…

Goddam it! I am supposed to be in charge around here and all I get is negative feedback, backtalk, I think….

Now, now, push the button. See how easy it is? You are such a smart man, you can do it, sooo, put your little pinky right there, that a boy, push!

This is ridiculous! I am the Chief of Naval Operations, Commander of the entire Navy; and I feel like I work for you sometimes.

Lois patted him on his cheek, turned and walked to the door of his office. Looking back over her shoulder, she stated, And don't you forget it, Admiral Crocker! Admiral Biel is waiting to see you. Would you like me to send him in now?

Why not, at least he still takes orders. Jesus, she had the best ass and set of legs he had ever seen; he was going to marry her one day, and teach her a lesson. She had been with him for years now, and he would be sunk if she ever quit.

Aha! Admiral Biel! To what do I owe this unexpected visit?

Good morning, sir. I just wanted to bring you up to speed on a couple of items before your day began.

Great, let's have a cup of coffee. Watch this, a new intercom system that can patch me into all the departments, ha, ha, even bypassing Lois. He pushed a button.

Parking garage! Master Sergeant Hayes speaking, hello, hello, who's there?

Well, shit…

What did you say, who is this? Get the fuck off the system you stupid jerk, you're tying up the line. Who in the hell is this?

Crocker disengaged the button. Admiral, push the third button if you want the commissary.

I know Biel, just testing, just testing. Lois, Lois! Coffee! Coffee! For God's sake!

Lois came in the office and put two cups of steaming hot coffee down in front of the two Admirals. I am going to go to the powder room for a minute, and while I am gone Admiral Crocker, don't touch anything. The garage called and wanted to know if you wanted your driver to pull out your staff car. Are you going somewhere this morning? You have a Joint Chiefs staff meeting with the President in thirty minutes.

Jesus, no, of course I'm not going anywhere! Why do you say that?

You called the garage, and left your intercom button on so everyone in the Pentagon could hear you trying to order coffee is all. Be back in few minutes, but do you need something from the commissary?

No, God! Damn it shut the door and don't let it hit you on your backside on the way out. You know I'm the boss around here, and no more backtalk!

Yes, sir! Lois gently closed the door and winked at Admiral Biel, who was smiling.

You know Biel; you have to keep a tight rein on things, ship shape and all.

The intercom speaker was still on, Admiral, I had your driver pull your car around front. Whenever you are ready, Admiral. I'm sorry I didn't know it was you on the intercom, Sir!

Sergeant, I'm sorry, cancel my ride. Christ, Biel, how do I turn this damn intercom off?

Biel reached over the desk and disengaged the intercom.

Thanks Biel. Now what's on your mind?

The Triad. They are in hock with the Cartel, and we have an opportunity to break them and further loosen their control over Indo-China and China. Our agent is now speaking directly with the Cartel, and needs a transfer of funds to further a new plot.

Now, this is good news, how much do they need?

We just need three hundred million for now.

Admiral Crocker spit out his scalding coffee. What? Jesus, now I have to change my damn shirt, three hundred million dollars? He looked across the desk, trying to wipe the coffee off his Presidential Briefing paper for the National Security weekly meeting.

Dollars, yes sir, just three hundred for now.

And where do you expect me to get three hundred million dollars? Ha, ha, and how soon do you need the funds, by lunch? Ha-ha!

No sir, we need the funds deposited prior to lunch, by 10:30 today, if at all possible.

Admiral Crocker spit out his coffee again and stared at Admiral Biel. Damn it, Biel, is this some kind of joke, or what? The front of his shirt was soaked and some of the coffee was running off his desk into his lap.

Not really, but I have arranged to have the funds transferred to the primary Triad account in Hong Kong, this morning, if we can't produce the money.

Where in the hell, or I should say who in the hell has that kind of money?

It is a need to know, sir, but we have a friend who can make the money available, and it seems like he has created this new opportunity. It is the same source that withdrew all of the Triad's funds that were being held in escrow, for the Cartel. So in essence, we are depositing some of their own money back into the personal secret accounts of the three Triad leaders. Our agent will be turning these account numbers over to the Cartel, who is trying to figure out what happened to three and half billion dollars that have gone missing out of their escrow accounts in Switzerland. We are placing the three hundred in Mr. Lee's primary account, and then transferring one hundred million into each of the other two Triad leader's accounts, so the Cartel will be convinced they have stolen the billions. It gives our agent an entry card, a good three hundred million dollar ticket so to speak, or ante, into the Cartel.

Unbelievable, certainly high finance for sure. What do you want me to do?

I think you had better change your shirt, clean your pants and let me redo your tie. It looks terrible, sir.

Mr. Lee was worried, while sitting in the offices of the International Trade Association's boardroom with Ms. Chung Li. She had gotten him stinking drunk last night, and he had a terrible hangover. His two associates were probably still at Ms. Li's whorehouse, relaxing after almost four weeks in the slammer. They all had a whale of a good time last night, celebrating their release on bail. They were still searching for the missing two billion dollars, and someone had been raiding the rest of their secret accounts. They had not been able to trace the missing red-headed whore Lucho ran around with. Somehow, she had evaded them in Paris, coming off the Concord flight from New York. She must have the records, but how did she drain the accounts? Money was disappearing no matter where they moved it. They were having trouble paying the Cartel their profits. The Triad leaders had spent four weeks in customs lockdown over the murder of Lucho. It was a complete disaster; Kong was dead, hurled through the windshield of Lee's favorite antique limo, killing Tu. God damn Steelhard, the bane of all of their plans. The man was a fucking menace.

Lee felt depressed as he massaged his sore temples. Black Tiger was running wild in Laos, turning the people against the NVA, the minion of the Triad. Even North Vietnam was turning against the Triad. They now had control of South Vietnam after the American defeat, and had even repulsed the Triad backed Chinese invasion into North Vietnam. The whole thing was spinning totally out of control. He would set things right this morning, and regain the confidence of the Cartel. He looked over at Ms. Li. He was starting to fall for her; she was fantastic in bed and he wanted to do her right now! Use his wicked thin bamboo cane on her again like last night; make her beg for more pain as he screwed her in the ass. She loved the pain, and more than likely she was in love with him; at least she had told him so. Ms. Li smiled back at him, reaching over and squeezing his hand, reassuring him it would be all right. He had sent her to arrange this meeting a few days ago while he and his two associates were still cooling their heels in the slammer. Thank the gods for loyal assistants, especially a whore that was in love with him. It was comforting to say the least, especially after such a miserable series of events.

Rolf Kruger marched into the boardroom, escorted by three very large and brutish men in dark suits. One of the brutes put some papers down in front of him at the head of the boardroom table. Kruger was six foot three and impressive; at least two hundred and thirty pounds of pure Nazi muscle, dressed in a dark blue pinstriped custom made English Savoy Lane tailored suit that fit him, just like a glove. He had an ugly three-inch scar across his left eye from some accident, which made him look like Attila the Hun. He was a very serious looking man, who had probably never laughed, or smiled at a joke in his life. He ran the Cartel; Lee had only met him three times in the past, and he thanked the gods for small favors. Lee felt his palms sweating as he watched one of the big men close the four-inch thick boardroom doors and slam home an interior bolt, locking them in like a silent tomb.

Kruger shuffled grimly through the papers in front of him. He frowned and looked up at Lee with his menacing black eyes, tapping a black Mont Blanc pen on the polished boardroom tabletop. He glanced at his Cartier watch, waiting to the second before starting.

Ah! Guten morgen, Mr. Lee and Ms. Li! It is so very kind of you both to come here today, on time, to straighten out some extremely disturbing matters. How is your pending murder case coming along, Mr. Lee? Have you found our missing money yet?

Well, Mr. Kruger, we are using diplomatic immunity on the trumped up murder charges and are hot on the trail of the missing money. It was withdrawn secretly from some of the accounts used by Lucho Martinelli, as you know. Just how that was accomplished is still an unknown. It is just a matter of time though, before we find the sneaky rat in the woodpile, and the missing funds. Rest assured, we will find our money.

I see, Mr. Lee, he replied, looking down at the papers in front of him. However, I am confused about something. Can you explain this? He handed Ms. Li a sheet of paper; she passed it over to Lee, smiling at him.

It was a copy of his secret bank account in Hong Kong. It showed a transfer of three hundred million dollars into his account the same day the two billion dollars were transferred out of the escrow account of the Cartel's Swiss Bank.

Kruger passed another two bank statements of Lee's two associates over to Ms. Li, and she handed them to Lee. They also showed deposits of one hundred million dollars being transferred from Lee's account into each of his two associate's secret accounts, later in the day.

Lee stared at the bank statements in disbelief. First, his heart skipped a beat, joyful at having so much money. He had been stealing a little here and there, but nothing like this. He looked at Ms. Li, who was still smiling at him, and then back at Kruger. He was not smiling, just staring at Lee with dark menacing eyes, waiting for a response, slowly tapping his pen on the boardroom table.

I don't know anything about this, this is impossible, there is no way…

Well, it has all been cleared up by our Ms. Li.

It has?

"Yes, she has brought this situation to our attention, and has most kindly provided us with information of your, and the other Triad partner's, secret bank account numbers. We had the statements traced and produced by our agents this morning in Hong Kong. She is unaware of where you have parked the rest of our stolen money, but has explained how you murdered your agent Lucho, to cover your tracks after stealing all of our money, blaming it all on a call girl, or is it fall girl? Now really, Mr. Lee, how was a simple call girl able to steal billions of dollars by transferring all of the money out of multiple secret numbered accounts in Switzerland? Then giving your men the slip after boarding the Concorde in New York City, and our men upon landing in Paris? Do you know how, Mr. Lee, do you want to know?"

No sir, I mean, yes sir!

I will tell you. You had Ms. Li eliminate the call girl, so she couldn't tell the authorities her story. Didn't you agree with your agent Lucho that she would be handed over to you for your journey home, and that is why you visited Mr. Martinelli, to pick up your new piece of ass? Where is the money your agent held in his petty cash reserve, plus the copies of our ledgers you so foolishly allowed one Lucho Martinelli to maintain, regarding our offshore businesses? Now even more money has been removed from other accounts related to our mutual business ventures!

Lee was stunned. Chung Li, tell him this is all a big mistake!

Mr. Lee, you should come clean, and leave Ms. Li out of this. You are the sneaky rat we have been looking for. Do you deny stealing money from the Triad, and us? Do you, Mr. Lee? Kruger's dark lifeless eyes bored into Lee like jackhammers.

Well, a little, but not two billion dollars, that is farfetched to say the least. You have to believe me, please!

Mr. Lee, once a thief, always a thief. You have caused us a major embarrassment with this stupid grudge fight here in New York, exposing us to the authorities, and gotten yourself and two associates wrapped up in murder charges. Lost much more than two billion dollars and quite possibly removed Laos, Vietnam, Cambodia and China from under our control. This is not good, Mr. Lee! Where is the money? You have less than ten seconds to confess, starting now. Kruger was tapping his pen on the table, waiting for a response, his vicious dark eyes boring into Lee like a Cobra, waiting to strike.

Lee turned to Chung Li. Please, help me, tell him this is all wrong. It is impossible!

You need to confess, now, Mr. Lee. I know you have been stealing from the Triad because I have been handling all the transactions thinking it was legit. Then you had me kill that call girl. You told me you threw Lucho off the building only last week when I visited you in jail, and used the poor call girl as a ruse to first steal the two billion, then drain the other accounts. I turned the three million you stole out of Lucho's closet over to Mr. Krueger, the money that you gave me to set up this separate sting operation. I don't know what you did with the ledgers you removed, but like I told Mr. Kruger, you and your associates were planning on taking over the Cartel using the two plus billion to put them out of business in the Far East. I felt it was necessary to warn the Cartel, and straighten out this betrayal over the last four weeks once I found out about it. I am ashamed of you, Mr. Lee; you bring dishonor not only to the Triad, but to all of us who have worked hard in expanding our empire in the Far East. Hundreds of years of sacrifice that now have been destroyed; crushed by your foolish actions and greed. You are such a dirty low down rat, Mr. Lee!

Lee leaped up, lunging for Chung Li with his outstretched hands; two of the huge men in black grabbed him and rudely shoved him back into his chair, bitch-slapping him silly.

Well, Mr. Lee, it seems your ten seconds are up, and your actions provide me with the evidence of your guilt. You will confess, however, after we are through with you. Ms. Li has recommended a process that your other associates have been undergoing this very morning in the next room. I believe it is something called the Nor method of extracting information. Your two associates have already told us you were the mastermind behind the whole scheme, in exchange for a more humane death. Little do the fools know what we consider a more humane death! Bind and gag him!

The three huge men bound a protesting Lee, after ripping off all his clothes, and taping his mouth shut. They picked him up like a roll of cheap carpet, and followed Kruger and Chung Li through a double door that opened into a large lab with operating tables. Lee's two partners lay shackled on two separate stainless steel tables. They were bleeding rivers of blood into small gutters that surrounded the operating tables, the blood draining into clear plastic buckets. Their desperate eyes were bugging out of their skinless heads, begging for mercy, the bloodshot eyes crying out for death. They were twisting their heads in severe agony, from side to side in immense pain, looking at Lee for salvation. Their tongues had been cut out after being forced to fully confess; anything to stop the inhuman pain.

You see, Mr. Lee, Ms. Li has shown us these Nor methods, the thin slicing of pieces of your skin, little by little until you have been skinned alive. Notice the mirrors on the ceilings? You can watch the entire process, it is terribly entertaining. Usually we would keep you alive for weeks, but since we are in a hurry, we plan on doing it over just a few days, and then, when completed, burying you in… what did you call it, Ms. Li?

A death box, filled with fire ants, breathing by a tube inserted into the coffin.

Ah, yes, excellent, I am sure Mr. Lee and his companions will enjoy the experience, won't you, Mr. Lee? Why Mr. Lee, you are pissing on our floor, how naughty! Ms. Li, didn't you say cutting off the genitals was part of this process?

"Yes. However, it would be best to switch them between the associates, placing them in their mouths, after I cut them off, so each rat can taste the sweet rewards of his own betrayal. I will jam breathing tubes deep up into their nostrils so they will have days of fresh air to revel in their new surroundings. I have ordered clear glass coffins so you can view the new ant colonies being built inside them using their sugar-coated skinless bodies as a food