Fire Dragon

By J.R. Nakao

A Delta team captures a high-ranking Hezbollah commander and uncovers an Iranian plot to restart uranium enrichment. To avert an Israeli preemptive nuclear strike, the United States and Israel conduct a joint cyber-warfare operation to cripple Irans nuclear program.

Their effort reveals something more sinistera long-drawn plan by China to bring America to its knees by collapsing its economy and shift the balance of power in Asia.

With scaled-down forces in Asia and spread thin in keeping the Iranians at bay, the Americans only option is to send two men to stop the Chineseex-CIA John Okamoto, who once led the Phoenix Program, and his adoptive son, Eric Sloane, who led the operation against the Hezbollah commander.

But they are fighting a cunning and ruthless enemy from Johns past. Eric must also face betrayal by the woman he loves and treachery from within his ranks.

The fate of Pax Americana hangs in the balanceand the battle must be fought in the bourses of New York to the jungles of the Philippines and the islands in Okinawa.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris NZ
• Release date: Sep 25, 2017
• ISBN: 9781499099829

Book preview

Prologue

January 17, 1991

The Persian Gulf

I t all began on January 17, 1991.

The American-led Coalition flew over 100,000 sorties, dropping 88,500 tons of bombs, achieving total air supremacy before the start of the ground offensive. Thirty-eight Iraqi MiGs were shot down before the rest were grounded to avert total annihilation. A hundred forty aircrafts were flown to Iran, most of which were not returned.

Within hours, Saddam’s command and communication infrastructure in Kuwait collapsed. When the ground campaign started, the Coalition advanced deep into Iraq and won an easy victory after a hundred hours of combat.

For the first time, the world saw war in real time as the media reported live from the front lines. Viewers from around the world witnessed the United States display its overwhelming war prowess, the superiority of its soldiers and technology and the accuracy of its weapons. Global positioning systems and night vision capabilities enabled M1 Abrams tanks navigate without reference to roads or fixed landmarks and destroy Iraq’s vastly inferior Type 69s and T-72s while their tank crews were sleeping. Multiple-launch rocket systems (MLRS) destroyed twenty-two artillery battalions in the initial stages, while eight Green Berets fought off a hundred and fifty elite Republican Guards, killing forty before calling out airstrikes to finish off the rest.

The American Commander General Normal T. Schwarzkopf’s pincer maneuver in routing the Iraqi Army and Republican Guards was a feat of arms equal to the classic tactics of Hannibal and Rommel. His tactical feint deceived the Iraqis into believing that the main offensive would come from the sea when he ordered Marine amphibious units to advance on fortified positions. But while the Iraqis were engaged, they were flanked by highly-mobile mounted infantry and armored cavalry. This allowed the Coalition to avoid dug-in positions along the Kuwait-Saudi Arabia border, enabling them to penetrate deep into Iraqi territory before suddenly turning eastwards into a massive left-hook, flanking the Republican Guards and Iraqi fortifications.

With Kuwait’s liberation, US President George H.W. Bush declared a New World Order.

Chapter 1

March 1, 1991

The Great Hall of the People

Beijing, People’s Republic of China

L i Zhao, Chairman of China’s Ministry of State Security (MSS), watched as fifteen of the most powerful men in the country sat in silence inside one of the backrooms of the Great Hall of the People, center of power of the People’s Repu blic.

The mood was somber as Zhang Wei, a senior colonel of the MSS, was briefing them. He was a tall, thin, 55-year-old veteran who walked with a slight limp on his left leg and whose uniform had the Heroes Medal, 1st class, pinned to it.

At forty-five, Li Zhao was much younger than Zhang Wei. He knew Zhang resented him for that, along with his Western education and designer clothes. Today he wore a suit from Saville Row and handmade Italian shoes. Li was one of China’s so-called Princelings, sons of Mao’s inner circle. He was raised in Europe and studied in a boarding school before coming over during the Cultural Revolution to lead the Red Guards. He also loved champagne and teenage film stars. He desperately needed Zhang’s help to sell his novel idea of defeating America with a new concept of unrestricted warfare. He knew that these men would never listen to him on his own. But Zhang Wei’s exploits as covert advisor to the Vietcong during the Vietnam War made him a legend, and Li was counting on that. He was willing to play second fiddle as long as his proposal would get their approval.

Most of the men in the room were in their eighties, veterans of Mao’s Long March from October 1934 to October 1935. These were senior members of the Politburo, the Central Committee and the Central Military Commission. They all wore dark-colored Mao suits, which contrasted with the red drapes all over the room. Some were in uniform adorned with medals from past campaigns.

Kai Mingli, General Secretary of the Central Committee, listened attentively as a large TV screen played a taped CNN footage of a smart bomb destroying an Iraqi target. At sixty-five, he was one of the youngest members of the Politburo. His rise to power was unexpected. Li Zhao knew that he came in as a compromise candidate after the shakedown following the Tiananmen Massacre.

Comrades, what we are seeing is an American laser-guided bomb destroying a ZSU-34 anti-aircraft weapon system, said Zhang Wei. The Americans and NATO call this gun and vehicle as the Shilka. It is the mainstay of Iraqi air defense since all their fighters were grounded or flown to Iran to avoid total destruction by the Americans.

I thought this gun system can only be destroyed by anti-radar missiles, said Marshall Huojin, Commander of the People’s Liberation Army Air Force (PLAAF). He was eighty and one of the old guards. A veteran of the Long March, he received flight training from the Soviets and earned his wings just in time for the Korean War. His MiG-17 was shot down during his first combat mission, but he got posted as a covert advisor to the North Vietnamese Air Force.

True, Comrade Marshall, said Zhang Wei. In Vietnam, standard American doctrine called for the use of attack aircrafts to lock on to anti-aircraft radar with their AGM-45 ‘Shrike’ missiles. They still do. Our artillery forces and the rest of the Soviet bloc are trained to keep anti-aircraft signals at a minimum to avoid detection.

Why are they using another weapon? asked Huojin.

American air strategy has evolved since Vietnam. Their men and material are now exponentially better, said Zhang Wei.

Li Zhao held his breath.

Everyone had fallen silent.

No one spoke that way in China. Extolling the enemy was deemed as defeatism, a crime worse than treason. But Zhang Wei was a hero of the People’s Republic and some of the rules did not apply to him.

Continue, Comrade Colonel, prodded Kai Mingli.

The weapon used is a precision guided munitions known as a Guided Bomb Unit or GBU. It is unclear how these bombs are guided, but their accuracy is remarkable. One of my Iraqi sources told me that the hospital he was in was barely damaged even if a Republican Guard command bunker across the street was totally destroyed. There was no collateral damage from that strike.

Conclusion? asked Kai.

Comrade, Chairman, Zhang Wei continued, the American military is invincible. There is no power on earth that can stop the Imperialists in a conventional or nuclear war. The Soviets might have done it when they were at the peak of their might. But that was before they were reduced to a shadow of what they used to be. No other country can project power like the Americans. One of their carrier battle groups can easily decimate our forces like they did the Iraqis.

So, are you saying we can’t win? asked Marshall Huojin. Lest you forget, we defeated the Americans in Korea and so did the Vietnamese in 1975. The resources of the North Vietnamese were a fraction of what we now have.

No, Comrade Marshall, said Zhang Wei, I beg to differ. The way I see it, we cannot win a conventional war, or even a nuclear war, against the Americans.

No one spoke.

Speak! yelled the Chairman Kai, I urge you. Be candid!

Comrades, continued Zhang Wei, I mean no disrespect, but tactically, the Americans won in every battlefield of the Korean and Vietnam Wars.

The room erupted in uproar.

Silence! shouted the Chairman of the People’s Republic. Continue, Comrade Zhang.

Comrade Chairman, the Americans withdrew from Vietnam not because we defeated them. They left because of mounting adverse public opinion back home. In December of 1972, we thought the Americans had lost the will to fight and advised the Vietnamese to demand new concessions at the peace talks in Paris. We reckoned the Americans would cave in. But we were wrong.

Zhang paused to let the gravity of his last words sink in.

Within a few hours, they launched a massive air campaign known as Linebacker II that wreaked severe damage to North Vietnam’s infrastructure and resulted in over 500 rail interdictions. Moreover, our fraternal brothers lost 372 pieces of rolling stock and three million gallons of petroleum, not to mention that eighty percent of their electrical power production capability was eliminated. My sources in the anti-war movement informed me that the operation was hastily planned, but just as well it forced the Vietnamese back to the negotiating table and give in to the American demands. That, my esteemed comrades, is the extent of their power.

The room was silent. Many were visibly shaken and a few were staring at Zhang with their mouths agape. Zhang chose to ignore their discomfort.

Their operational readiness has greatly improved since then. Last year, they invaded Panama with their Marines and Special Operations troops. They also forayed into the Middle East and Europe. A third of their military has seen combat. Their infantry units, for instance, have one or two combat veterans per squad. Their pilots and ground crew regularly go through a training exercise in Nevada known as Red Flag, where they undergo at least ten realistic air combat scenarios. Studies have shown that fighter pilots dramatically increase their chances of survival after completing ten combat missions. The Americans proved this in the Persian Gulf, where their pilots performed flawlessly and their ground crew, too.

Is there a way to stop them? asked Kai.

Yes, Comrade Chairman, said Li Zhao, standing up even as heads turned towards him, but it needs a re-think of the current way we fight wars.

Explain, commanded Chairman Kai, disregarding the fact that Li had butted in without asking for the customary permission to speak.

Comrades, said Li Zhao, American military doctrine evolves around the most recent advances in technology. Their strategies adapt according to capabilities offered by the latest discoveries and inventions in military hardware and gizmos. For instance, the Iraqis fell victim to the night-fighting capabilities of their armored units. This strategy was adopted because of recent advances in night vision and global positioning technology. However, the Americans do not consider the wider picture of military strategy, including legal and economic factors. They are vulnerable along these lines.

You are wrong, young man, countered Marshall Huojin, I have studied the Americans. They believe that war is merely the continuation of policy by other means.

True, Comrade Marshall, interjected Zhang Wei. Their commanders study Clausewitz at the War College. But lobbyists of American arms manufacturers dictate their policies. Some of you have been to the US Capitol, yes?

Yes, I’ve seen those whores and thieves at work, Marshall Huojin acknowledged.

Can we exploit this weakness? asked Kai.

We must make America kneel through other ways than direct military confrontation. These will have the same or even greater destructive effects than military warfare, Zhang Wei replied.

So how exactly should we fight them? asked Marshall Huojin.

We fight them by other means, such as network and economic warfare, lawfare and terrorism, said Zhang Wei. These concepts were written about by two PLAAF Colonels, brilliant academicians from the University of Peking.

No one spoke. Li Zhao stood up and stood beside Zhang Wei.

America is dependent on computers, and their networks control everything, he pointed out. We will attack their networks for data exchange, transportation, financial institutions and communication. We will gain access and steal their secrets, then appropriate those secrets for ourselves. Our computer attacks will disable their networks, crippling their way of life, as they are dependent on them for coordination. We can shut down their power grids and damage their industries, defense systems, medical services and all other areas of life.

Such undertakings cost money, said Marshall Huojin, and we do not have the resources to fund them.

There are faster means of generating funds in the long and short terms, said Li Zhao.

Such as…? asked Kai, letting his question hang for good measure.

Before the Shah of Iran was toppled, Li began to explain, the Americans gave him a press to print US dollars in exchange for oil. The North Koreans acquired this machine from the black market but lacked the plates to make the money. Our best forgers were able to make replicas of those plates, and our brothers are willing to give us the press in exchange for tanks and aircraft.

Everyone was listening intently.

For some time now, Li Zhao continued, the MSS has been working with the North Koreans to produce methamphetamine. It is a new drug. Cheaper to make, it will soon replace cocaine and heroin. We will export this to the West, as they did opium to us. The revenues from narcotics and counterfeiting will be more than sufficient to fund this new undertaking of unrestricted warfare.

I can’t believe it! roared Marshall Huojin, Are you saying that we are now into drug trafficking?

The world is changing, Comrade Marshall, said Zhang Wei. This is merely a means to an end. This is a dirty war, and we can only win by changing the rules. We will destroy America’s will to fight. Imagine, what happens if a bomb goes off in Wall Street? It will send the stock market plummeting and crash the American economy.

Everyone nodded in agreement except Marshall Huojin.

Li Zhao expected that. He knew Huojin disliked Zhang Wei. This went way back to their experience as covert advisors in Vietnam. Huojin disapproved of Zhang Wei’s murderous tactics of assassinating wives and children of known American sympathizers.

I disagree, said Huojin. I will never sanction such barbarism. History will not judge me as a mass murderer who kills women and children.

History favors the victor, Marshall Huojin, said Zhang Wei. This is not the time to be fickle or be a bleeding heart.

Everyone nodded while trying to evade Marshall Huojin’s imploring gaze.

In the meantime, we will continue to make America weaker by other means, Zhang Wei declared. We should consider political action through non-government groups created to effect policy changes.

I concur, Comrades, said Kai Mingli. We cannot underestimate the power of street protests.

That struck a note. Tiananmen Square was still in everyone’s mind.

Our assets are in place, Comrades, assured Zhang Wei. We have lobbyists in the American Congress pushing support for civil liberties and liberal groups. We are trying to infiltrate the Democratic National Convention. We will destroy America from within by promoting class struggle. Meanwhile, we have strengthened our links with our paramilitary proxies in Latin America and the Middle East.

Everyone smiled knowingly. They knew that he was referring to China’s long foray into state-sponsored terrorism.

Our efforts will include lobby groups in the American Congress, the media and human rights organizations among others, Zhang Wei continued. We can also wage economic warfare. Already, we have thriving factories earning millions of dollars manufacturing fake copies of expensive designer brands. The decadence of the imperialist works to our advantage. Labor costs are cheaper in China than elsewhere and we do not have to worry about unions, health and safety and work stoppages. Textile factories have been successful thus far and we are starting with electronics and motorcycles, which we copy from the Japanese. Our products may be inferior, but they will be much cheaper and we can flood the Third World markets in Southeast Asia, Africa and India. In the long term, we should also consider funding the People’s Bank of China to compete with the Asian Development Bank.

That’s absurd! blurted Marshall Huojin. You want us to lend money when we are struggling to keep our dollar reserves, ourselves.

I agree with Colonel Zhang, Li Zhao interposed, we need to look at the long term. At the pace our industries are growing, we will soon be plagued by overcapacity. The People’s Bank will dictate the economic policies of Third World countries in Africa and Southeast Asia, and our companies will supply their infrastructure projects.

It is easier to affect American policy through proxies, said Zhang Wei. Our Soviet fraternal brothers successfully manipulated the anti-war movement in America. We can do the same, or infiltrate existing organizations and hijack causes such as global warming and the peace movement. Through these, we can pressure the Americans to make cutbacks in carbon emission and curtail industrial production while ignoring such limits ourselves.

Makes sense, noted Minister Li Zhao.

I agree, said Chairman Kai. Despicable as it may be, Minister Li is right. We need this new undertaking to survive. It is a cause that costs a lot of money, which the People’s Republic does not have. Hence, we do what we must to finance it. The end justifies the means.

Comrades, said Li Zhao, to the fall of the United States and the rise of China to its rightful place as the Middle Kingdom.

Everyone stood and clapped their hands.

All, except Huojin.

Chapter 2

Kafr Sousa, Damascus

E ric Sloane peered through the window of a 1969 Citroen catering van parked at the side of the road. Its windows were cracked and tinted, making it difficult for anyone to see him inside, crouched in full tactical gear. He squinted as he tracked the approach of three men walking towards him. His right hand went over the safety of his HK-416A5 assault rifle, making sure it was off and that the Combat Optical Gunsight (ACOG) of his Trijicon optical scope was switche d on.

He loves the 416. It weighs just right at three and a half kilograms. He finds it far more reliable than the M4 due to its short-stroke gas piston that reduced heat and fouling of the bolt carrier group.

Heads up, possible Tangos, he whispered into his Q7 headset.

He adjusted the headset’s position behind his right ear. Eric was instrumental in the Unit’s decision to add the Q7 to its inventory. Manufactured by a company known as Invisio, the headset has a bone conduction microphone positioned at the spot where the ear canal meets the jawbone. He was quite impressed by the clarity of the speech transmission and reception and the fact that it can be used even if a gas mask or rebreather apparatus covered the face.

Looking Glass, confirm, he said.

Tango confirmed, said Mike Ramirez, a.k.a. Looking Glass, perched on top of a water tank half a mile away, looking through the Schmidt & Bender scope on an AWSM sniper rifle.

He’s got baby sitters? asked Eric.

Affirmative, Kinjo, said Mike, two, both with 74s.

Their target had two bodyguards armed with AKS-74Us, short nasty Kalashnikovs commonly used by special operations units in the Eastern bloc.

Eric’s Dad, John, was the first to call him Kinjo. It was the nickname of Japan’s greatest swordsman, Kojiro Sasaki, and he called him as such for his uncanny ability to read his opponent’s mind during martial arts practice and foresee danger. The name stuck, through his college varsity to his chalk-mates in the 75th Ranger Regiment.

They have Quds Force written all over them, Mike added.

Eric grimaced when he heard that. The Quds Force is the Special Forces unit of Iran’s Revolutionary Guards, responsible for extraterritorial operations. To him, it is one of the primary sponsors of terrorism in the Middle East

Taco, T are you good? Eric asked.

Affirmative, we’re good to go, said Lance Rogers who was in a black Toyota Prado with Tyrone Smith. Their vehicle was parked a hundred feet behind the Citroen van. Eric made sure that their vehicle looked like the ones used by Syrian Military Intelligence.

Lance and Tyrone both served in the 75th Ranger Regiment. They were recruited into the Unit or the 1st Special Forces Operational Detachment-Delta (1st SFOD-D) otherwise known as the Delta Force. Eric dubbed him Taco since he met his first wife at a Taco Bell near Fort Jackson. When she divorced him, the court documents were served at another Taco Bell near Fort Benning. Tyrone a.k.a. T, on the other hand, was built like a T-Rex, at six feet and two hundred twenty pounds.

I got the driver, said Eric as he tried to stretch his legs in the confined space. Confirm, Looking Glass?

Roger that, Kinjo, Mike replied. Driver is yours.

Eric knew that Mike was now in a semi-trance and doing what snipers call tactical breathing to relax his body and lower his heart rate. He had seen him do it several times at the range and during direct action operations. Mike inhaled, held his breath, then exhaled and held his breath for four seconds each as he picked out his target. When ready, he will apply five pounds of steady pressure on his trigger finger during the short pause between inhalation and exhalation – the point when his body was most relaxed and stable.

Seventy-two hours ago, Eric recalled, he almost failed to conceal his excitement when first briefed about this op and the identity of their target.

The CIA confirmed that the Iranian Ambassador would be hosting a dinner at his residence in Kafr Sousa to celebrate the 28th anniversary of the overthrow of the Shah. Among the guests was Amir Batal, Hezbollah’s chief of staff and senior member of Lebanon’s Islamic Jihad. Intelligence indicated that he was being groomed to succeed the current Hezbollah leader. Amir’s name meant "brave commander" in Arabic. Eric scoffed at that. There was nothing brave about a man who ordered the mass killing of women and children.

To Eric it was personal. Amir was accused of several bombings, kidnappings and assassinations, including the 1992 Israeli Embassy attack in Buenos Aires that killed twenty-nine, the hijacking of TWA 847 where a US Navy diver was beaten to death and the Khobar Towers bombing in Saudi Arabia in 1996. He personally led the 1983 bombing of the Marine and French Barracks in Beirut. Three hundred American and French troops were killed that day, including Lieutenant Colonel Martin Sloane, Eric’s father. He had too much American blood in his hands. After 9/11, his name was added to the Kill or Capture list. It’s payback time, Eric mused.

The Unit had strict rules on transference and personal involvement. But Eric kept to himself. He knew the area. Kafr Sousa used to be an agricultural suburb of Old Damascus. There were still a few chicken farms but the area was fast turning into one of Syria’s most affluent neighborhoods. It was home to the Council of Ministers, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and the Iranian Embassy.

Eric also knew that Amir never took the threat from America or Israel seriously. He felt safe in Damascus and was being briefed daily by his liaison from Syrian Intelligence.

Amir’s Mitsubishi Pajero was parked half a block from the Iranian ambassador’s residence. He had to walk past Eric’s van to reach his vehicle. One of the bodyguards went for the driver’s seat. The other opened the door for him as he casually went inside and sat behind the driver.

Here we go, Eric said as he held the fore grip of the HK416 with his left hand and opened the side door with his right. He was out of the van as soon as Amir’s driver entered the Pajero.

Go! Go! Go! Eric shouted into the Q7 headset.

Eric aimed while moving, pointing the Trijicon’s red dot at the driver’s exposed upper torso and got a good sight picture. He let loose a smooth double tap on the driver’s chest. The grouping was tight, the shots less than half an inch apart. His Delta instructors would have been proud.

Remember, Eric, he remembered one of them say, fast is slow, slow is quick, front sight focus, trigger squeeze. The instructor was a SEAL, one of the original members of Richard Marcinko’s SEAL Team Six.

He continued moving, shifted his aim and fired at the driver’s forehead, splattering blood and brain matter on the windshield, turning it into a crimson-colored spider web.

Eric heard a crack and felt the .338 Lapua Magnum round fired by Mike as it broke the sound barrier and whipped past his right ear, hitting the center mass of the other bodyguard’s upper torso. A similar rifle was used previously for the longest confirmed sniper kill in Helmand Province, Afghanistan. Eric knew that Mike used very low drag bullets loaded on overpressure cartridges with a muzzle velocity of nine hundred thirty-six meters per second. At the distance of eight hundred meters, the bodyguard was well within the maximum effective range. The Pajero’s windshield and the level one body armor he was wearing did little to stop it from entering his heart. He died instantly.

Tango down, said Mike. Clear.

Clear! shouted Eric.

A few seconds later, Eric heard Lance maneuver the Toyota to a screeching halt, stopping ten feet behind Amir’s Pajero. Tyrone got out, smashed the window from Amir’s blind side, and before Amir could react, reached inside to open the door. He yanked Amir from the vehicle and shoved him to the ground.

Amir’s security detail never knew what hit them.

Eric and his team achieved total dominance by overwhelming them with unrestricted use of aggression, power, speed, stealth and surprise. Special operators call this violence of action.

T, I got your six, said Eric as Tyrone searched Amir for weapons. Finding none, he flex-cuffed his wrists behind his back, gagged and blindfolded him and then placed a black bag over his head. He forced him to a specially-constructed chamber at the Toyota Prado’s boot and got in the front seat of the SUV beside the driver.

Eric quickly followed him and sat at the back. He tapped Lance who accelerated and drove through the empty streets of Damascus.

The op was a perfect snatch and grab. The Delta team was done and gone in less than three minutes.

Looking Glass, we have the football, Eric spoke through his Invisio headset. Proceed to extraction!

Roger that, Kinjo, Mike replied. Let’s go home.

San Francisco Bay Area

John Okamoto checked the secondary angle on the sear of a 1911 pistol through a bench magnifier.

Nothing relaxes him more than doing trigger jobs on competition guns. He especially loves working on 1911 platforms. What Lamborghinis are to cars, the 1911s are to pistols. No other firearm gives the shooter the same orgasm and adrenaline rush as the raw power of a .45 caliber round from a 1911 mainframe.

John loves his guns. He is proud of his collection of pistols, shotguns and assault rifles, all of which he personally customized. Now retired, he goes to the range twice a week and actively competes in IDPA, multi-gun and IPSC shooting competitions.

John always joked that his obsession cost him his third marriage. When asked why he indulges in it, he says that it comes from his being Japanese and the martial spirit in him.

It is ironic, though. His ancestors fought with Saigo Takamori during the Satsuma Rebellion. They fought and died protecting the samurais’ way of life against Western intrusion.

John’s phone rang.

John here, he said as he answered the call.

John, it’s Alex, said Deputy Director of Operations (DDO) Alexander Flynn. Just letting you know that they got him.

Oh? When?

An hour ago, Damascus.

Collateral damage?

None. Eric and his team killed two of his detail, both from Quds Force.

That’s good. Thank you, Alex. Much appreciated. Please keep me posted.

Will do, said Alex. The line went dead.

John sighed.

"Eric should have some closure now," he thought. He looked at his watch, a 1968 stainless steel Rolex Submariner. It was 11:00 a.m., 12:00 a.m. in Damascus.

He heaved another sigh and continued working on the 1911.

Beijing, Ministry of State Security

Vice Minister Zhang Wei of the Ministry of State Security (MSS) blew a little air into the scalding hot gunpowder tea and sipped slowly. At seventy-eight, he still wakes up at 4:30 in the morning and arrives at his office at 5:45 a.m. It’s a good way to beat the Beijing traffic.

He looked at the stack of memos and documents placed by Mei on his desk and shook his head. She had tried hard to be his mistress.

"Her bruises would be gone by now," he thought with disdain.

The other week, he made her perform oral sex. She obliged, but a loose wire in her orthodontic retainer cut his penis. He gave her quite a beating that Mei had to go to the infirmary for stitches.

There would be no police report.

"Better for the stupid peasant girl to remember," he scorned.

Despite her foolishness, she is a reliable secretary and passed all the vetting required of MSS support personnel.

Unconsciously, he touched his groin. The cut made by Mei had healed. But in his mind, he can still feel the pain and vividly remember that day in the jungles