Speculative Fiction Centre

 

            Dad and I concealed ourselves behind a fallen tree overgrown with moss and ferns.  He risked a peak over the trunk, then dropped back down.

            “Okay,” he whispered.  “Just like we practiced at home.”

            My pulse was racing.  The rifle felt cold in my hands.  “I… I don’t think I can.”  It was one thing to knock cans and beer bottles off a fence.  This was the real thing.

            “I know you’re nervous, Matty.  I felt the same way when your grandpa first took me hunting.”  He smiled.  “Did you see how big it is?  Even bigger than the first one I brought down.  Grandpa will wish he came along.”

            I grinned.

            Dad sighed.  “Son, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

            I thought about it but not for too long.  Time was precious.  “I want to do this.”

            “Good boy.”

            I saw the pride in his eyes, and I knew he’d still love me even if I missed.

            Careful not to make any sudden movements, I got up.  Planting my feet firmly on the ground, one foot in front of the other, I raised the rifle and lined my sights with the target.  I took a deep breath, held it, and squeezed the trigger.

            The blast echoed in the woods.  The target staggered a few feet and feel to the ground.

            Dad clapped me on the shoulder.  “Good shot!”

            We rushed from our cover, towards the fallen creature.  Blood had soaked its clothes.  It clutched its wound and groaned.

            Dad turned to me, a sad look in his eyes.  “You got him in the gut.  He’s in a lot of pain.  You’ll have to finish him off.”

            He reached under his jacket and handed me his pistol.  “It’s the humane thing to do.”

 

     Rodnie Weaver and Jeyar Ramos sat behind the solid, ornately designed mahogany door in the waiting room of the LA mansion. Rodnie admired the room which was easily twice the size of his apartment. He took everything in – from the priceless paintings on the wall to the Persian rug beneath their feet. If there was on thing Mr. Tojo wasn't, it was cheap. He hoped to God he remembered to wipe his feet before entering the mansion.

     He glanced at his partner, Jeyar. The Filipino looked uncomfortable in his suit. He held a small wooden box which contained the item Mr. Tojo requested.

     A scream erupted from the adjacent room, and the pair stood up with a start and backed away from the door. Moments later, it opened, and an Asian man who might have been half bear, half sumo wrestler motioned to them. The bear wore a suit, but Rodnie recognized the tell-tale bulge of a concealed firearm.

     "Mr. Tojo will see you now."

     With just a moment's hesitation, Rodnie and Jeyar entered the room to meet the former Yakuza boss.

     "Mr. Weaver! Mr. Ramos! How wonderful to see you again." The old man smiled from behind an ebony desk. The room smelled of incense.

     Rodnie and Jeyar remained standing. Not that there were any chairs on which to sit. There was only one chair in the room, and that was occupied by Mr. Tojo himself.

     The Asian bear closed the door behind them and took his post at one side of the table. On the other side, another of Mr. Tojo's men – a little smaller than the first but no less intimidating – was wiping blood off his shoes. Jeyar looked like he might bolt for the door.  He still carried the box, but his hands trembled slightly. Rodnie worried he might drop the package.

     Mr. Tojo waved his hand dismissively. "Do not mind Twinkle," he assured them.

     Twinkle?

     "I merely asked him to remind another one of my employees about the virtue of respect.  One of my men tried to steal from me. I had to teach him a lesson. You understand, yes?"

     "Of course, Mr. Tojo," Rodnie answered. "Can't have shit in your own backyard."

     "Precisely!" The old man smiled, amused. Asian bear and Twinkle's faces were unreadable. Either they weren't amused, or they didn't get the profound nature of Rodnie's words.

     The Yakuza pointed to the box. "You have brought me what I asked, yes?"

     "Yes, we have." Rodnie signaled to Jeyar who carefully placed the box on the desk. Rodnie donned a pair of white cotton gloves from his suit pocket. He opened the container and delicately removed its contents. Rodnie set the item on the table.

     Mr. Tojo gasped.

     "Mr. Tojo, I present the egg of the Jade Dragon."

     The egg was mounted on a jade tray called a bi and enclosed in a glass case.

     "The last dragon egg," the old man said, more to himself than to anyone else in the room. "So the legends are true. It's more beautiful than I ever imagined."

     For the first time since he laid eyes on the egg, their employer returned his attention to them. "You must tell me where you found it."

     "In a temple in the Chinese province of Henan."

     A sad expression crossed the man's face. "Ah, yes. I saw it on the news. Unfortunate what happened to those monks."

     "We did what had to be done," Rodnie answered. "Casualties were unavoidable."

     "But surely the egg was guarded, yes?"

     "Swords and fancy footwork are no match for a .45."

     "Indeed." The old man returned to examining his latest possession. "Fascinating."

     "There is still the matter of payment, Mr. Tojo."

     Their employer spoke a few words in Japanese, and Twinkle stepped forward and set a large briefcase in front of them.

     Two and a half million dollars like we agreed, gentlemen."

     Jeyar picked up the briefcase, and Rodnie bowed slightly. "Thank you Mr. Tojo. It was a pleasure doing business with you."

     As they were leaving the room, Rodnie couldn’t resist. He turned to the bodyguard built like a mountain and winked. "See you around, Twinkle."

 

 

     Inside the Mercedes, Rodnie sat behind the wheel, and Jeyar removed his suit and sighed happily as they cruised on the freeway. Half an hour ago, they had transferred the money into two black sports bags and thrown the briefcase in a dumpster. Better safe than sorry. Rodnie didn’t put it past Mr. Tojo to plant a tracking device on them.

     After taking an exit off the freeway, they pulled up beside an old warehouse. They entered through a side entrance, toting the sports bags along.

     "You think they’ll come after us?" Jeyar asked as they walked to the rear office, located at the read of the warehouse. He had barely spoken since they left the mansion.

     "Probably. But we’re not sticking around to find out, my friend. As soon as we close this last deal, we’re out of here."

     Jeyar grinned. "Boracay is lovely this time of year. White sand, crystal waters, beautiful sunsets, and nude beaches."

     "Boracay it is then," Rodnie answered. He could picture out the palm trees, the sun, the waves, not to mention the women. He opened the office door, and the strong scent of charred wood assaulted him. Reaching around the wall, he flicked the light switch. They were greeted with a loud hiss and a flash of green scales behind the bars of a steel cage.

     Rodnie glanced at his partner. "So what do you think? What’s the going price for a live baby dragon?"