PRIMAL Vengeance

Chapter 43



Bar Continium, Shanghai



The stretched Audi A8 limousine came to a smooth halt in front of the hotel, its powerful engine purring like a contented beast. A bellboy grasped the door and opened it, waiting patiently for the occupants to alight.

The legs that swung out of the vehicle caught everyone's attention, from the smartly dressed security guards to the concierge and patrons of the hotel. Long and graceful, yet defined and muscular, they announced a women who took great care in her appearance and physique.

The owner of those legs didn't fail to impress. She gracefully accepted the hand of the bellboy, letting him guide her onto the red carpet.

She was devastatingly alluring, dark and sultry, with the grace and poise of a dancer. Her high cheekbones, dark eyes and long brown hair suggested an Eastern European, or perhaps Middle Eastern heritage.

She was dressed in the most couture of outfits, a classic mid-length black dress that revealed her ample cleavage. Six-inch heels accented her toned legs.

From the other side of the vehicle a pair of blondes appeared. Beautiful, but not striking like the brunette, they joined her on the red carpet that led inside the foyer of the hotel. In a Michael Bay movie they would have been filmed in slow motion: a hair flick, a coy smile, pure sexual energy.

"Welcome to the Continium." The sharp-suited doorman smiled charmingly over his clipboard. "Can I have a name for the list?"

The brunette pursed her lips. "Aneke Krisko." Her accent was rich and tainted with Eastern European inflections.

The doorman checked his list. "I don't seem to have you here."

"Are you sure?" She reached into her handbag and took out a business card. "Perhaps you are confused with the spelling?" She smiled suggestively.

The doorman glanced at the hand written mobile number on the card. "Ah yes, here you are. Aneke plus two. This way, ladies."

They rode the mirrored elevator from the foyer to the 135th floor. When the doors opened the three women stepped into a wonderland of glamor and pumping music.

The Continium was Shanghai's newest and most exclusive nightspot, its clientele, the rich and privileged of Mainland China. Businessmen, generals, politicians and their sons, a male-dominated environment where the woman always came with a price.

The three females strode across the plush carpet, drawing the eye of almost everyone. The brunette led them around the dance floor filled with awkward gyrating men and svelte models and up into one of the booths that ringed the club's floor-to-ceiling windows.

No sooner had they sat down, the drinks began arriving.

Their waiter first offered them a bottle of Champagne. "Compliments of the gentleman in the suit." Next came a bottle of top-shelf scotch whisky, accompanied by a selection of sodas, green tea and ice. "Compliments of the man over there, Mr Zhu. He would like you to join him."

The Brunette dismissed the offerings, sending the waiter scurrying with a flick of her hand. In her thick accent she ordered a round of Ciroc Vodka on ice.

The three girls chatted, drank, and enjoyed the stunning view of the city. Far below them the lights of Shanghai sprawled along the Yangtze river. They were oblivious to the scowls they commanded from the female competition around them. Other escorts fought for the attention of their clients as the three newcomers continued to attract stares.

Finally a waiter appeared with a tray of drinks, one of everything the cocktail list had to offer. "Mr Zhu has asked me to tell you to not be so fussy. You make it hard for him to get your attention."

The brunette smiled. "You can tell Mr Zhu that my friends and I would very much like for him to join us."

The waiter nodded and disappeared to pass on the message.

A few minutes later two men approached the booth. A short, portly Asian wearing a white polo shirt with a popped collar grinned at the three women. A taller, rougher man sporting a shaved head and wearing a loose-fitting suit tailed him.

"You must be Mr Zhu," said the brunette, inviting him to sit next to her.

"You can call me Ping," he replied.

"I'm Aneke. Thank you ever so much for drinks. Your friend is also welcome to sit with us."

Ping addressed the second man in Mandarin and he sat down between the two blondes. They snuggled in either side of him and he grinned.

"You prefer brunettes, yes?" Aneke purred, placing her hand on Ping's leg.

"Yes, yes, of course," he stammered, pushing his black-rimmed glasses back up his nose. "Blondes are so last year."

Aneke gave him her undivided attention for the next half hour. They talked, she laughed at his attempts at humor, and they drank.

"You know, my father is a very powerful man," said Ping.

"Is that so?" cooed Aneke. "He must be very proud to have a son like you."

"Yes, he is very proud. I am already a senior manager in the company."

"And so young? That is impressive."

Aneke continued to stroke his ego, letting him spill his life story as he drank. She regulated her own intake, sipping from cocktails as he guzzled.

The other man, the bodyguard, refrained from drinking. Aneke gave him a smile and he returned it, clearly enjoying the attention of the two voluptuous blondes at his side. His hands roamed over their bodies as they smiled and laughed.

"I'm going to powder my nose," Aneke whispered, her lips gently caressing the lobe of Ping's ear. "Would you like to come?"

"Yes, yes!"

"I'm going to take him away for a moment. Is that OK?" she asked the guard.

His brow furrowed and he made to stand up. Ping waved his hand, assailing him with a torrent of Mandarin. The guard sat down.

"It's OK," Ping explained. "He works for my father. Big muscles, little brain." He laughed as they left the booth and circled the dance floor. Ping had his arm around the brunette's waist.

They passed the lifts and the bar, making their way to the corner of the club where the rest rooms and private function areas were located. The clientele loved karaoke and the Continium pampered to their needs in elegance and style. Individual booths lined one side of a corridor, sound-proofed, decked out with expensive furnishings and serviced by scantily clad waitresses.

It was still early in the night and most of the booths were unoccupied. Aneke slid back the door on one and peeked inside. It was empty. She grabbed Ping by the hand and dragged him in, closing the door behind them.

The room was themed in blue. Thick blue carpet covered the floor and velvet blue armchairs clustered around a low glass table. There was a bar in the corner and a huge flat-screen television bolted to one of the windowless walls.

"You like to sing?" Ping giggled as he slumped into one of the chairs.

"No, I like to dance," said Aneke lifting her foot onto one of the soft chairs. Her dress rode up her thigh exposing the top of her pull-up stockings. She smiled at Ping seductively as she slipped her fingers under the top and pulled out a small plastic bag filled with white powder.

Ping smiled as she emptied the package onto the glass table. He took out his wallet and handed her a black AMEX credit card. She used the card to form thin lines of powder on the glass. Ping watched her closely as he rolled a 100 yuan note into a tube.

"Ladies first," Ping offered Aneke the tube.

"Nyet, you go first. I need it to make you sober for what I have in mind." She bit her lip suggestively.

Ping smiled and leaned forward, the tube clutched between his thick fingers. Inhaling loudly, he sucked an entire line into his nose.

Grinning, he slumped back into his chair. "Good stuff. You should try."

"I will soon, my dear," Aneke said, reaching up to brush a strand of long hair from her face as she watched him.

Ping smiled again as the euphoria of the drug washed over him. His head slumped sideways as the chemicals relaxed his muscles.

"Target is under. Meet you at the service lift in five." The brunette had dropped her European accent as she spoke into her phone. Her English was naturally tainted with a Middle Eastern flavor.

"Come on, big boy." She helped the heavily sedated Ping out of his chair. The drug running through his system was designed to make him passive, not completely immobile.

She checked the hallway was empty before guiding the inebriated playboy out of the karaoke room and back towards the restrooms and the service lift.

"Where are we going?" Ping's speech was slow and slurred.

"Downstairs sweetie."

A staff member stopped in the corridor, eyeing the pair suspiciously.

"My friend he has too much to drink, da. I take him home now." She feigned her accent again.

The waiter nodded and disappeared.

The brunette reached into her bust and pulled out a security swipe card. The doors to the service elevator opened and she guided Ping inside.

"Hey, you! STOP!"

She stabbed the close button with her finger as Ping's security guard spotted them. He sprinted down the corridor towards them, reaching under his jacket for a handgun. The doors closed with a second to spare. The lift shuddered as he slammed into them.

"Chen, we've got a problem. The guard, he's onto us," she spoke calmly into her phone.

"OK, I'm downstairs. I'll keep an eye out."

Above the door the floor numbers lit up as they dropped. Like a toddler, Ping watched them, enthralled with the flashing numerals.

When they reached the ground floor, the doors opened revealing a service corridor. The brunette led Ping along and he followed passively.

The service corridor took them to a loading bay where the hotel's deliveries arrived. The Audi was parked in the bay alongside large industrial bins and piles of boxes.

"Hands up, whore!"

The guard's English was halting but his intent was clear. His pistol was pointed directly at the brunette's face.

Slowly she raised her arms.

Ping, grinning like an idiot ambled forward and hugged his bodyguard.

The hulking bodyguard kept the pistol aimed at her as he grabbed Ping with the other hand. "What did you do to him?"

"He'll be fine; just a little drug."

A Chinese voice piped up from behind the guard. Another Chinese man had joined the party. This one was dressed in a tailored black suit complete with a chauffeur's cap. He was shorter than the guard and lightly built.

The two men conversed and the guard seemed to become more comfortable with the situation. He backed away from the brunette, pushing Ping along with his free hand. Once he let go of Ping, he reached into his jacket, pulling out his phone to make a call.

The smaller man moved in a flash. He grasped the guard's pistol and snapped the wrist backwards.

The guard was caught by surprise but reacted quickly. Using his superior size and strength, he launched forward, ignoring the crunching sound that his wrist made as the chauffeur bent it back even further. He lifted the smaller man off the ground and charged ahead.

He made it a few meters before collapsing to the ground, the chauffeur pinned underneath him.

The brunette's worried look turned into a smile as she noticed the hypodermic syringe sticking out of the guard's neck. The plunger was fully depressed.

"Hey, Saneh, could you lend me a hand?" The chauffeur was trying to leverage himself out from under the dead weight of the slumbering guard.

"Chen, you took your sweet time." Saneh helped push the two hundred pound guard off Chua, the organization's Chief of Intelligence.

He extracted himself and stood brushing the dust from his suit. "Sorry about that. I had some trouble backing the car in." He gestured to the rear fender of the brand-new Audi. It had a large dent in it.

"Didn't I say we needed something smaller? You men and your toys. You're just as bad as Bishop." Saneh strode across to where Ping was sitting on the steps that led from the dock down to the car park. "Come on, Ping, let's go." She helped him to his feet and opened the door of the Audi for him.

Chua was already in the driver's seat by the time she joined him in the front of the car. Ping was stretched out on the back seat in a slumber. They pulled out of the loading dock and onto the street.

"The Lascar flight is prepped and ready," said Chua. "As soon as we get to the airport we'll make our boy comfortable and get airborne. Short stop in Hong Kong to pick up his buddy and then on to the island."

"Excellent," responded Saneh as she slipped out of her heels and replaced them with a pair of plain black flats. "Any news on Aden?" she asked with a hint of concern.

Chua shook his head. "No, nothing new. He'll be fine. You know Bishop's always popping up at the worst possible time having escaped by the skin of his teeth."

"Don't I know it," sighed Saneh as the streets of Shanghai flashed by. "Don't I know it."