This had to be Lo Keye, Tung’s enforcer. The one who had caused the deaths of Lee and Hung.
Bodie pushed up off the warehouse floor, his right hand dropping to his side and sliding the Colt free. He raised the pistol, then felt a solid blow to his hand and felt the weapon jarred from his grip. The .45 was tossed aside. It hit the floor yards away. It was only then Bodie saw Keye’s right leg draw back from the kick he had launched. So fast Bodie hadn’t seen it coming.
He pulled back, rising to his full height. Saw the hatchet in Keye’s hand cutting the air. The weapon seemed to be part of the man’s limb, his gestures smooth and fast. There was a thin smirk on Keye’s lips as he demonstrated his skill.
The hell with you, feller, Bodie thought. We can all bring a blade to the party.
He dropped his hand to his side and grasped the knife sheathed on his belt. The razor sharp weapon was the one he had taken from the half-breed Silverbuck and made his own. He’d had to kill the breed twice to make sure he finally stayed down, but Bodie only blamed himself for that. He should have made certain the first time round. His mistake had almost cost him his own life on their second meeting. It had taught the manhunter a lesson and left him with some serious injuries before he near cut off Silverbuck’s damn head. As he brought the knife into view Bodie warned himself not to make the same mistake again.
Keye registered the knife. His eyes flickered and he eased back a little. He was not showing fear – simply respect for the cold steel. The Tong enforcer was facing an opponent with his own weapon. Not a defenseless individual with little chance to fight back. It made a difference.
But Keye was far from being a novice himself.
Bodie watched the Chinese. Seeking the signs that Keye was about to go on the offensive and knowing he was going to need his wits about him. Keye was not going to make it easy…
Bodie saw Keye’s forward right foot edge forward, his leg tense as he set himself, and leaned forward a little. He had turned the hatchet edge on to Bodie, ready to make a sweep that would cut across Bodie’s torso.
Though Bodie anticipated the move it came almost too fast for him to counter. Keye’s arm was a blur, the cold steel of the blade arcing round and shearing through Bodie’s shirt as he pulled back. The cut, not as deep as intended, left a stinging wound that bled immediately. Bodie’s response was to hit out with his own knife, catching Keye’s right side as the man’s body turned. The heavy blade slashed Keye’s tunic and bit into his flesh over his ribs. The speed of Bodie’s response had caught the Chinese off guard. He fell back, conscious of the blood streaming down his side from the gash.
Seeing a possible opening Bodie lunged forward, his blade spearing in at Keye’s torso. The strength behind the manhunter’s move slammed him against Keye and they stumbled back, crashing against the stacked crates. Bodie felt his blade slide into Keye’s left shoulder, grating against bone. The Chinese uttered a yell of pain, swung his hatchet at Bodie, but the closeness of their bodies stopped him making a clean strike. Bodie clamped his free hand around Keye’s wrist and forced the hatchet clear of his body. Keye brought up his right leg, driving his knee into Bodie’s side, a solid blow that hammered Bodie’s ribs. In response Bodie, still gripping the handle of his knife, concentrated his strength and pushed the blade deeper into Keye’s shoulder, driving it all the way into the joint and out the other side, the exposed blade piercing the wooden crate the Chinese was pushed up against. In a moment of pure frenzy Keye clamped his free hand across Bodie’s face, fingers clawing at his cheeks. With the knife blade buried in his shoulder Keye’s hand had weakened and Bodie was able to wrench his head to one side, freeing himself from the hand over his face.
Keye’s knee delivered a second blow to Bodie’s ribs as the manhunter used both hands to put pressure on Keye’s hatchet wrist, twisting it hard. Bodie felt the bone move, kept turning it until something snapped. Keye gave a yelp. Bodie maintained his grip, bending the wrist. Keye’s fingers loosened their grip and the hatchet slipped free. Bodie made a grab for it, closed his fingers over the short handle. He struck out with the blade, the steel catching Keye across the side of his head, severing a bloody wedge of scalp. Keye, pinned to the crate, was unable to move aside. As blood streamed over his face Keye was barely able to see the hatchet rise and fall before the blade bit into his skull, cleaving flesh and bone, then cut into his brain. As Keye’s body went into a spasm, Bodie reached and jerked his knife free, letting the bloodied body slide to the floor…
~*~
…Tung and Traeger were standing beside a large wooden crate that had a large lit oil lamp throwing illumination over the paperwork they had been discussing. Alerted by the shooting they were on the defensive.
A figure moved into view, confronting them.
‘Nowhere left to run, Traeger. Your partnership with Tung ends here,’ Brand said, drawing their attention.
Brand had his Colt steady in his hand. He had holstered the adapted pistol, deciding the longer reach of his regular weapon would be more suited at the moment.
‘You realize the amount of money involved here, Brand?’ Traeger said. ‘When this deal is concluded we’ll be rich. You could have some of it. More than you could ever hope to see in your lifetime. I’m sure that must interest you.’
‘Only to be able to return it to the people you stole it from. And then hand you over to stand trial for murder. So no deal, Traeger.’
Milo Traeger stood beside Kwai Fu Teng. The Tong Master was dressed in a gray suit, his shirt gleaming white against his skin. Where Traeger exhibited a nervous manner, Teng appeared calm, almost serene. His hands were lightly crossed at his waist.
‘You have proved to be a competent man, Mr. Brand. As has your companion, Bodie. Rescuing the young woman from my people was enterprising. Two singularly expert people. A pity you work on the opposite side of the law. You have spurned Mr. Traeger’s offer of money. Is there no way I could persuade you to step across the line and join my organization? Look around at what I have stored here. My organization is expanding even as we speak.’
‘Even if I was tempted, Tung, there wouldn’t be much incentive. No point in joining an outfit about to be closed down…in the next few minutes.’
‘I can guarantee that.’ Bodie stepped into view, his own pistol leveled at Tung. ‘Game over, Tung. Your man, Keye, is back there. Kind of let that hatchet he used go to his head. So no last minute you get to walk away this time.’
The Tong Master nodded slowly, the expression on his face never changing. ‘Then we have no more to say.’
And disregarding the pistol trained on him the Chinese dipped his hand inside his coat, snatching at the slim-bladed knife sheathed on his belt. His move was a blur, hand going back, then forward as he launched the weapon in Bodie’s direction. Bodie had to give him credit for the speed of his action, leaning to one side as the knife flashed in his direction. It missed by a fraction, burying itself in one of the wooden crates nearby.
Tung had turned, preparing to conceal himself behind stacked goods.
The Colt in Bodie’s hand followed the man’s move. He put three fast shots into the corner of the bales that briefly covered Tung. They emerged in a dusty cloud of opium and fragments of the cloth wrapped around the narcotic. They struck Tung in the body. He was toppled sideways, stumbling to his knees as the slugs hammered home. Bodie stepped up and raised his pistol again. He fired a final shot that slammed into Tung’s skull and sent him face down.
‘For Henry Lee and Li Hung, feller,’ Bodie said quietly.
Traeger stared, open mouthed at the body, watching the blood soaking through Tung’s clothes. He drew his gaze away, easing his hands away from his body in apparent surrender.
‘I quit,’ he said as Brand appeared, stepping from the shadows a few yards away.
‘Damn right you do,’ Brand said. ‘Unless you want to end up like your partner.’
‘Never would have lasted,’ Traeger said. ‘I don’t think he liked me all that much.’
‘Can’t fault him there.’ Brand gestured with his Colt. ‘Time we got out of here.’
‘No argument from me,’ Bodie said.
Traeger stepped forward, showing little resistance.
As he moved by the packing case where he had been standing with Tung, going over the loading manifests, he let his left hand reach out. He caught hold of the oil lamp being used for illumination, swept it clear of the case and slammed it to the floor. The lamp glass shattered and spilled oil ignited with a soft whoosh of sound. Traeger kicked out at the lamp, the split base shedding more oil that created a burning pool. The glare of flame created a temporary barrier between Traeger and his captors, as it licked at the dry wood of the warehouse floor and the stacked packing crates. Smoke started to rise.
Traeger turned and headed towards the rear of the warehouse.
‘Sonofabitch,’ Bodie said.
‘Well he’s my sonofabitch,’ Brand said. ‘Take the outside in case he makes a break that way.’
Brand cleared the rising spread of burning oil as it ate at the dry, cracked floor and headed in the direction Traeger had taken.
No chance you’re getting away now, he promised.