Code Zero¹

Source

Peter Goldstein and the two members of his team, Ivan and Pyotr, had been directed to the neighborhood of the Chinatown Restaurant on New City Road, they were parked up Shamrock Street with a good view of the restaurant and the fishmonger next door. Tan Quanyu and his driver had been tracked to a residence nearby. The driver had waited in the car while Tan had gone inside. He'd returned shortly thereafter carrying a large duffel bag. The drone had then followed them to where Peter and his team were now.

Peter's comms device buzzed. "Go ahead, Max."

"Sorry lad, my baby's batteries are running down. I've got to bring her back to the farm and swap them out. Can you manage without her?"

"I think we're alright. Tan and the driver just went inside the fish place, rather they went down the alley into the market area. Pretty quiet here, a few diners in the restaurant but The Golden Trawler itself is closed, as is the market."

"Did Tan take the duffel with him?" Peter recognized Wolf's voice.

"Roger that, I think ... Wait a minute, the two are returning to their car. That duffel has had stuff added to it. Looks more stuffed and quite a bit heavier. Tan carried it in, now the driver, a big fellow, is carrying it out."

"Copy, stay with them. The drone should be back to you in under 30 minutes."

"Affirm, out."

Dai Jiang had started to put the duffel in the front seat next to him when Tan snapped at him, "Put the bag in the boot. Having it in front looks odd."

As Dai went to do that, Tan asked him, "Are you armed?"

Dai nodded, "Of course, chief."

Tan nodded and got in the car, he pulled out his phone and sent a text message. As he put his phone away, Dai got into the driver's seat and gave Tan a questioning look.

"Head over to the Glasgow City Centre, park around the corner on Maitland Street so that we have a good view of the front of the police station. We're expecting a police constable to walk up Stewart Street, where we'll be picking him up."

"We're picking up a British copper?" Dai asked in surprise.

"He's one of ours, he's Chinese."

"Where are we taking him, are we returning him to the station?"

"The less you know the better, Jiang."

Source

Jason Huang stepped into the cool night air, everything felt damp even though the rain had ended some hours ago. He was glad that he'd thought to don his sweater. He looked around but didn't see anything amiss, so he left the front of the station and started walking east on Stewart Street.

As he crossed Maitland, he heard a car start up, he glanced up Maitland and saw a small car pull out onto the street. He saw that the car didn't have its lights on. That had to be his controller, Mr. Chong.²

As he walked the vehicle pulled up beside him and the rear window behind the driver opened up, "Good evening, Jason. I trust you are having a good day?"

Police Constable Jason Huang recognized his controller and turned to speak to him. He was smiling as he turned, then the smile left his face. He was staring down the barrel of a large suppressor attached to a very small pistol.

"Sir, I don't understand ..."

The action on the pistol cycled as Tan pulled the trigger, the .22 caliber bullet hit Huang just below his left eye, the second bullet blew out his right eye and penetrated his brain, killing him nearly instantaneously.

Dai drove the car on, he executed a U-turn in the middle of the street, then accelerating to the speed limit he turned his headlights on. Turning onto Maitland Street, Dai began navigating his way back to the M8 to return to Edinburgh.

Source

Peter and his team had not followed Tan into the area around Glasgow City Centre, as there was only one way in and one way out, so they had parked on Milton where they could monitor Maitland Street for their target.

After a short interval, during which Ivan had stepped outside of the car for a smoke, Tan's vehicle could be seen coming down Maitland. As the car made its turn onto Milton, the rear seat occupant looked up at Ivan standing there, smoking a cigarette, the two men made eye contact. As Tan's car went past, Ivan tossed his cigarette and got into the car.

"That's our guy," Peter said, somewhat unnecessarily.

"Boss, I saw something."

"What did you see Ivan, stay back Pyotr, the drone is on it's way, we don't have to drive up the guy's tailpipe."

"Blood spatter, boss, the guy in the backseat was spattered, like he'd just shot someone at close range."

Peter simply said, "No shit?" then contacted Max.

"Max, have your baby check out the streets near the police station for anything odd."

"Can do, may I ask why?"

"Ivan thinks the Chicoms offed somebody back there."

"Seriously?"

"Ivan said the target had blood spatter on his face and jacket, also on the side of the car I'm betting."

MacDonald set the phone down in its cradle, his face was as white as a sheet.

Gordon noticed, "Anything amiss, Mac?"

"Yes, quite, it seems our Chinese friend may have murdered a British police constable. At any rate, Wolf's drone operator saw the body on the street near the station, shortly after our Mr. Tan was in the area."

"Bloody hell ..."

"Contact Police Scotland in Glasgow, tell them that have a dead constable on their street, just down from their f**king building! I want this kept quiet for the moment, we can't have a hue and cry going out over the entire UK while we're trying to run a covert op. See if Wolf can nab that bastard immediately. Never mind, I'll call Wolf, you get on to the police."

MacDonald had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, what else could possibly go wrong tonight?

¹ A Code Zero in UK police parlance means that a policeman is facing a life threatening situation.

² Chong is the alias Tan had given Huang rather than reveal his real name.

Loose Ends

Source

Wolf sat in his car, pretending to look at his phone but in reality checking out the Chinese Consulate. He wondered if this Tan Quanyu fellow was in the building at the moment. Hamza had given the man up but it had taken longer than Wolf expected. He'd been a tough bastard but eventually the pain, the disorientation, both from the environment and the drugs, had broken him.

After getting Hamza's contact's name the man had had a sudden seizure. Foaming at the mouth, struggling against his bonds, Hamza was in desperate medical straits. Wolf and his medic had rushed in, but to no avail. Doc had shaken his head and said, "Massive heart attack, even with a full surgical team on hand, he would've died."

"What caused it? The drugs? The electrical shocks?"

"Could've been anything, I'm betting that he had an unknown heart condition and we just triggered it. It happens."

Looking back on it, Wolf would have liked to have had a longer "chat" with Hamza, but that was all water under the bridge at this point.

Speaking softly, Wolf murmured, "Now how do we get to Tan?"

MacDonald looked incredulously at Gordon, "Are you serious? Are you absolutely certain?"

"I wish I was wrong, but MacDuff is quite certain, there's a leak in the Glasgow police. The incident on the M8 was reported outside of the department shortly after it happened."

"How? Who? Damn it man, is there anyone in this bloody country still loyal?"

"Many are, Sir, but they aren't in government service apparently.'

"Let Wolf know, start chasing any leads we have, I want this leak sealed."

Gordon stood up and nodded, "Sir."

Tan walked out of the small office he shared with another person, she actually was a cultural attaché as opposed to that being his cover. Only the Consul General and one other man knew Tan's actual job in the Consulate.

He was headed for that man's office now. Superintendent Ren Yuhan was in charge of all influence operations in the United Kingdom and the Republic of Ireland. One of his main tasks was financing the various groups throughout the area who believed they were advancing the cause of world peace. Little did they know that that peace was one in which the People's Republic of China called all the shots.

As he entered the anteroom of Superintendent Ren's office he paused as Ren's administrative assistant checked to see if it was alright for him to enter. The lady nodded at him as he went in. Tan wondered briefly what Lei Lim would look like in fashionable clothing and Western style makeup. She looked somewhat attractive even in the severe clothing she wore to work in the Consulate.

Ren was just hanging up his phone as Tan entered. "Tan, you're here, sit down."

"You have a problem in Glasgow." Ren was blunt, he was always blunt. The man had the charisma of a three day old dead fish.

"Yes, Comrade Superintendent, the team I was using to finance ..."

"Not that idiot Albanian. Your man inside the Glasgow police, what's his name, Wang, he's been compromised."

Tan sat up straight in the chair, moving to the edge of his seat, "Huang? Compromised? How? When?"

"He made a phone call to you on the night of the incident on the M8, yes?"

"Yes, he thought it would be a matter I'd be interested in, knowing that I had people operating in and around Glasgow."

"Well, a record was made of his outgoing call. Fool used a phone at the station and a computer algorithm picked up on the fact that the call was going to a cell phone, so it recorded the call."

"There is a recording of that call?"

"Yes, ordinarily it would have been weeks before those records were checked, perhaps even months if ever. The sheer quantity of data captured by computers is nearly impossible for someone to determine anything of value from. But someone searching for a particular thing on a particular day might find something. Someone did."

Tan remembered Huang mentioning "drug hit" and "automatic weapons fire" two phrases which would certainly trigger a recording to be saved for later analysis.

"Usually those recordings are overwritten within a day or two, I know that we record everything and I assume so do the British. Looking back on it, I can imagine why that particular recording would have been saved to another, more permanent, location."

Ren lit a cigarette and puffed madly on it for a few moments, then abruptly stubbing out the smoldering tube of tobacco he stood up, "Sever ties with this Wang fellow."

Tan stood up and gave his superior a questioning look.

"Sever all ties, permanently! Now go."

Tan stepped onto the street as his driver pulled up, not noticing that a man in a parked car further up the street had dropped all pretense of looking at his phone when he had recognized the man coming out of the Consulate.

The driver looked back at his boss, "Where to, chief?"

"Back to Glasgow, we have some loose ends to tidy up."

Wolf keyed his encrypted comms device, "Max, you have my location?"

"Affirmative."

"Can you get a drone up and track a vehicle for me? I think I know in general where he's going, but I want something overhead when he gets to his destination."

"Can do, it'll be dark soon, but with infrared, my little drone buddy won't mind. Destination? Route?"

"Glasgow, the M8."

"Roger that, I'll let you know when the drone is on station, can you follow the guy until then?"

"Shouldn't be a problem, thanks Max."

Dai Jiang kept looking in his rear view mirror, he was convinced that they were being followed. Traffic was light, but this car, a non-descript late model Mini he was guessing, had made every turn that he had made as they headed out of Edinburgh.

Just before he decided to tell his boss, the car had turned off. This job made him paranoid at times. But being paranoid could keep you alive.

Satisfied that they were home free, he concentrated on getting Tan back to Glasgow.

Wolf walked into the area they were using as an office. He saw Max and a couple of others watching a laptop screen. As he walked over, he recognized the car that Tan had got into outside the Consulate.

"That's our boy, boss!" Max said with a laugh. "I love these f**king drones, man."

"They are useful." Turning to another man in the room, he said "Peter, walk with me."

When they got out of the office, "I want to use your team to try and snatch this Chinese guy."

"Snatch him, or kill him?"

"I need him alive. Your team are all Russian speakers, all of you were born there. If anything goes wrong, I want the Chinese to think that the Russians are the opposition here, not us."

"Fortunately boss, I thought to bring our Russian duds. Might be easy to pick up in a flea market or something around here but ..."

"That might leave a trail of sorts."

"Yup, and seeing as how we have our own kit, why waste government money?"

"Right, now get your boys down to Glasgow. We'll get you the full particulars once we know where Tan is going."

"Roger that, boss. On our way."

Everybody Talks ...

DoD Photo

Hamza awakened, or at least he thought he was awake. He was restrained in a sitting position. He could move a little bit but doing so caused some pain. The straps holding him down were very tight.

He couldn't see anything, yet his eyes, as far as he could tell, were not covered. The same went for his hearing, he could hear nothing at all, even though he was sure there was nothing obstructing either ear. He thought to make a sound, then realized that whoever was holding him was also probably listening, he didn't want them to know that he was awake.

He tried to remember how he got here, wherever "here" was. He was groggy and he realized that he'd been drugged. Then bits of memory had began to return. The car slowly pulling off the motorway, steam issuing from under the bonnet, Kishiev looking at the dash, then at the road, confused and trying to figure out if they were in any danger.

Aliev in the back was asking what was happening, Hamza had awakened him moments before something struck their vehicle. Aliev was still half asleep but was alert enough to see something moving outside the vehicle.

The man had muttered "What the Hell ..." in Chechen just before the back passenger window nearest the side of the road shattered and Aliev's head snapped to the right as a nine millimeter slug tore through his brain.

Before Hamza could react, Kishiev's window also shattered and the driver's head had bounced off the steering wheel as a slug from the same weapon had hit him in the back of the head. Both of his Chechen bodyguards were down, obviously dead.

Hamza remembered wishing that he was armed, but then a pair of strong hands had reached through his own, now shattered, window. He turned in time to see the syringe stab into his bicep, he felt the sharp sting of the needle, then he felt nothing.

Until he had awakened, restrained, and apparently blind and deaf. For one of the few times in his life, Ditmir Hamza felt fear, absolute, all-encompassing fear.

Wolf turned from the monitor and addressed MacDonald, "With the drugs we've put into him and his current situation, he'll be ready to talk soon."

"What makes you so sure, Mr. Wolf?"

"He's completely restrained, uncomfortably so I might add, he's seen the two people he relied on to keep him safe violently killed right in front of him, he's been snatched out of his vehicle, drugged, and we've made sure that the room he's in has no light and is totally soundproofed."

"What did you give him?" Gordon asked.

"It's a form of LSD, fairly mild but will give the subject hallucinations and make him very paranoid."

"How do you know he'll talk, some men ..." MacDonald began.

Wolf cut him off, "Everyone talks, it's just a matter of time."

Tan Quanyu listened carefully as the police constable detailed the accident on the M8 which had killed two people and, the police believed, had had a third occupant of the vehicle who was now missing. His contact in the Glasgow police was politically motivated, a sincere believer in Communism, especially the variety espoused by the People's Republic of China.

"It looks like a drug hit, but the sophistication of the attack leads us to believe otherwise. A drug gang would have sprayed the vehicle with automatic weapons fire, this car was hit by a single round which disabled the engine and the two dead occupants were each hit by a single round to the head."

Tan asked, "What about the drugs in the vehicle? What about the currency nailed to the driver's head? This seems like a drug thing to me."

"It might be, and headquarters seems willing to write it off as just that, a squabble between drug gangs. But, the circumstances were interesting enough that I thought you'd be interested."

"Hhmm, it may be a simple police matter, but thank you for bringing it to our attention. I'll be in touch PC¹ Huang."

Tan looked at his watch, he needed to get to the communications room at the Consulate in Edinburgh. Ditmir Hamza was overdue, he had expected the man to contact him over an hour ago.

His man inside the Glasgow police did well to contact him. Jason Huang was a true believer, his parents had emigrated to the UK to open a business, with PRC help, and their son had proven to be an asset of very high value indeed. Now it was his job to try and determine if the incident on the M8 had involved his hireling, Hamza.

The pain began in the sole of his left foot and then had radiated up his leg and into his groin. He gasped at the intensity of it, he felt a brief sense of shame as he realized that he had wet himself. Then he realized, he had heard himself gasp, so he wasn't deaf.

As the pain subsided, Hamza tried to regain control of himself, then the pain began again, this time starting from the sole of his right foot. He cried out and tried to wiggle away from the pain spreading throughout his body, to no avail, the straps cut into his flesh, then the pain stopped and the space he was in was suddenly flooded with very bright light.

He clenched his eyes shut, but the brightness of the light seemed to burn through his eyelids, only to abruptly stop, the room dark again. Then a speaker near his right ear hissed to life and he heard, "Kush është miku yt në Kinë?"²

Hamza said nothing, he knew this for some sort of trick, then the pain began again.

MacDonald shook his head, "Hamza is dead? How?"

Wolf shrugged, "Probably a heart attack, I don't really care. But we got a name from him, a cultural attaché at the Consulate in Edinburgh. A certain Tan Quanyu, he's been at the Consulate for a little under a year. I've got my guys checking on him, see what sort of information we have on this guy. It's a start."

"Shall I pass that along to my superiors? Perhaps they already have some sort of ..." MacDonald asked.

"Sure, if you want the guy to skip town as soon as he hears that he's under suspicion."

"You think that there's a leak in my organization?"

"Until we know otherwise, everything we discover should stay with us. Your team and mine, nobody else."

MacDonald nodded, "Probably a wise move."

Wolf grimaced, "Certainly, not probably."

¹ Police Constable.

² Albanian - "Who is your friend in China?"

The Eleventh Hour of the Eleventh Day of the Eleventh Month

Source

I don't observe Veterans Day the way many Americans do. Why? Well, it preempted a much older observance - Armistice Day. Remembrance Day to many in the British Commonwealth, a day set aside to remember those who fell in the Great War. World War I, a war in which my great uncle gave his life along with millions of others.

We got there a bit late, we helped turned the tide, but Americans spent less than two years in the horror of the Western Front. So perhaps we can be forgiven for having our own Remembrance Day in May. Originally observed as Decoration Day, Memorial Day was originally about remembering those who died in the horror of the American Civil War. When brother killed brother, sometimes quite literally.

I don't need a special day, I came home, many did not. I remember them, twice a year as it turns out. Memorial Day and Armistice Day.

To each his own.

Particularly because of this line in that poem above ...

If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

        In Flanders fields.

I will never break faith with those who fell.

Never.

Intercept

USMC Photo

"We good?" Wolf was looking over Max's shoulder, watching the feed from the drone hovering near the apartment block where the moneyman was supposedly staying.

"Ya know, we're supposed to have a green strobe on that thing for flying at night, just sayin'." Max looked at Wolf with a grin.

"We'll take care of that right after we register all of these guns and explosives with the British cops."

Max chuckled, then stopped as he sat up straight and began to work the drone's controls. Wolf watched as the picture on Max's laptop zoomed in to focus on three men emerging from the building.

"I think that's our guy. Damn, those Chechens look competent as hell." Max rather wished he was in the field with the two teams Wolf had sent out just before the sun went down.

Fuji sat up when his comms gear buzzed in his ear. He opened the small display and saw a single letter. Turning to his team he said, "Looks like we're in business. Home base saw the package leaving the facility. Max will follow them to give us a good route. MacDonald's intel was good, our boys are heading back to Edinburgh."

Tony started the Ford Transit's engine and waited for instructions, looking down at his navigation display, he asked, "So, think they'll take the M8 to Edinburgh? There are other routes but the M8 is the most direct."

Karl, sitting in the passenger seat of the small van chimed in, "If they don't suspect anything, why not go direct?"

Fuji, after sending an alert to Sally's team, sat in the jump seat behind the driver's position, "If these guys are any good, they'll be damned careful at all times. They might take a longer route, you know, just in case."

"Intel I saw said that these guys have a regular run back and forth between Glasgow and the capital, nine times out of ten they take the M8, the only time they didn't was because of construction last summer. Then they took the long way through Falkirk." Karl had done his homework.

Fuji nodded, "That's what the drone is for, that's why the boss deployed two teams, cover both likely routes. Hey, it's not like this is a really big country, there's maybe ten miles between the two routes at the widest point. Theoretically one team could cover both routes, but we've got both covered without having to stretch things."

Fuji's comms gear buzzed again, he checked the number on the display, "They're on the M8, headed this way. Let's get set up."

Ditmir Hamza was deep in thought as he mindlessly watched the scenery flow by, looking over, he saw that Kishiev was over the speed limit by about ten kph.

"Salavdi, slow down a bit we're in no hurry."

Salavdi Kishiev let up on the accelerator and mumbled, "Megar du."¹

Hamza turned around and shook Abuyazit Aliev's knee, "Wake up Abuyazit! Your snoring is enough to wake the dead."

Aliev grunted and sat up, "Sorry, boss."

Looking to his front Aliev could just make out an overpass, there was a sign beside the road. He was hungry so he asked Hamza, "Think we might stop ahead and get some food?"

Hamza turned to answer, as he did so, something hit the front of the car and it immediately began to lose speed. "What was that?"

Kishiev looked at the panel, he saw that the engine was overheating rapidly, "Damn it, I think we took a rock in the radiator. Something came off the road and hit the motor, that's certain."

Jack "Sally" Fields watched as the expensive car pulled off the road, steam was beginning to issue from under the hood, what the Brits called the bonnet. He swung his scope over to the brush beside the road, he could see the other two members of the team moving up to waylay the occupants of the car.

He saw the lasers come on in his NVGs, saw them move around the vehicle, then come to rest, one on the driver's position, the other on the back seat.

The two muzzle flashes were nearly imperceptible.

The Albanian had struggled briefly before the drug hit his system. In the shock of seeing his bodyguards both die within an instant of each other he had frozen. Not that he was trained for combat after all, some rudimentary instruction with a pistol but that was it. The Chechens were the experts and they had been taken out with barely a sound.

The two men, clad all in black, quickly pulled the Albanian into the brush. Dragging him a couple of hundred yards to a small access road, they found Sally waiting for them. They bundled up the moneyman, immobilizing and gagging him, then put him into the back of the dark blue Volkswagen Caddy.²

They were off, headed towards Falkirk, less than a half hour since Aliev had been awakened by Hamza and criticized for his snoring. Something that would no longer be a problem. For anyone.

"Bloody hell, Mac. The police are onto a shooting scene on the M8, just outside of Whitburn. Two dead men, drugs scattered about the inside of the car, one man in front, one in the back. Fellow in the back had a tenner nailed to his forehead. I mean literally nailed."

Gordon put the phone down and began to head for the door.

"Where are you going?"

"Talk to Wolf, this is far too visible, we don't want the police to start ..."

"Start what? Looking for drug dealers who killed two men on the M8? We wanted the Chechens dead, right? I mean that was your bloody idea, send a message and all that."

Gordon stopped, "Well, I guess I just hadn't expected ..."

"Hadn't expected what? That Wolf would be that creative? What were you expecting, two dead Chechens delivered to the Chinese Consulate? Keep it out of the papers?"

Gordon sat down and rubbed his hands over his face, "Bloody hell, I suppose you're right, Mac. But this Wolf fellow ..."

"Knows his business and his people are very effective. I think the Chinese will get the message, after all, they do read the Telegraph don't they? The paper will say 'drug deal gone bad,' the Chinese will know better."

Gordon shook his head, "When can we expect the moneyman to get here?"

"I talked to Wolf, he said within the hour."

"Does the fellow speak English?"

"Yes, he does, and I'm sure he'll pretend not to, I'm sure Mr. Wolf can get him talking."

"I'd hate to be in that bastard's shoes." Gordon muttered.

MacDonald smiled, "Quite."

¹ Chechen for "alright." (мегар ду)

² A compact panel van manufactured by the Volkswagen Group beginning in 1979.

Every thing's gonna be All Right!

 

As to the title, I certainly hope so.

 OK, for all you youngsters out there (yeah, you Tuna,  you also Beans), you might not have heard this song when it first came out.  Sarge and I did. Been a while though.  

And...unfortunately two of the band are playing music in the great beyond.  The two survivors are in their mid-80's.  But...I still enjoy their music.

 Given the circumstances of November 3,  especially in Texas as it directly affects my Family and I, I thought this song might be a bit apropos and hopefully true. 

Aah!

You say you want a revolution, well, you know
We all wanna change the world
You tell me that it's evolution, well, you know
We all wanna change the world

But when you talk about destruction
Don't you know that you can count me out?

Don't you know it's gonna be alright?
Alright
Alright

You say you got a real solution, well, you know
We'd all love to see the plan
You ask me for a contribution, well, you know
We're all doin' what we can

But if you want money for people with minds that hate
All I can tell you is, brother, you have to wait
 

Don't you know it's gonna be alright?
Alright
Alright

You say you'll change the constitution, well, you know
We all wanna change your head
You tell me it's the institution, well, you know
You better free your mind instead

But if you go carryin' pictures of Chairman Mao
You ain't gonna make it with anyone anyhow

[Chorus]
Don't you know it's gonna be
Alright
Alright
Alright

Alright, alright
Alright, alright
Alright, alright
Alright, alright
Alright, alright
Alright, alright
Alright, alright!

 

 

Just in case you want to listen to the song. Here you go.

 

 

 

Complements of the Beatles. Video can be found here.

The Moneyman

Source

"Sir, did you say the Chinese Consulate?" Gordon had almost passed that comment by, then it struck him, there was no Chinese Consulate in Glasgow. The Consulate was in Edinburg.

MacDonald looked puzzled for a moment, "Of course, there's no ..."

MacDonald was exhausted, he'd had perhaps three hours of sleep in the last two days, not consecutively either. Perhaps he had said consulate, knowing full well that that edifice was in Scotland's capital.

Gordon was looking with concern at MacDonald, "Look, Mac, we're both tired, perhaps ..."

"No, I definitely misspoke. What I meant to say is that this safe house, it's a flat actually, is in Chinatown in Glasgow. More specifically, they can see the Chinatown Restaurant on New City Road where Dalhousie Street intersects with New City."

"And we're concerned with this restaurant?" Gordon was confused.

MacDonald rubbed his face with both hands, "Not exactly, but where they get their seafood is a concern."

"Sir?"

"Did you see that?"

Wolf nodded, turning to Stewart he said, "The seafood company uses white vans, all marked with a small company logo on the passenger door. That van, while the same make and model, didn't have any logo. Why is that?"

"We think that MSS¹ is using the seafood company to hide in plain sight, as it were. Same type vans, who's going to notice that the logo is missing? The men from the fake vans wear the same jumpsuits as the company's employees, very nice cover without having to actually coopt the seafood company."

"Does MSS have an office in this building?" Wolf watched as two men unloaded two crates from the van parked across the way onto a dolly, then wheel it into the opening between the two businesses. Apparently it provided access to the China Town market behind the two store fronts.

"The market back there has a number of stalls and storage areas, place is a bloody maze. One of our chaps went in there and said that there are any number of places to hide back there."

"Why would the Chinese want to foment unrest in the UK?" 

"Why wouldn't they? Unrest in the West allows the Chicoms to operate with less worry in places like Africa and those parts of Asia where we Brits used to have a very deep interest in having everyone stay calm."

"India? Pakistan? The Belt and Road Initiative?" Wolf was beginning to see the big picture.

"Precisely."

Back at the farm, Wolf huddled with his men and explained what was going on. He explained how it was in the Chinese Communist Party's interests to keep the West confused and off balance.

"Where do we fit in, why are we here, boss?" Fuji's question caused a number of heads in the room to nod in agreement.

"Back home the Congresscritters are scared shitless of the Chicoms. They think that if we push back on anything, then nuclear war will break out." Wolf explained.

"Doesn't mean they're wrong though, does it?" Max's deep voice rumbled as he spoke.

"Nope, they could be wrong, they could be right. But one thing is certain, if we don't attempt to stop them, we can kiss Western Civilization goodbye. Forget the Dark Ages, what would follow from a Chinese Communist takeover of most of the world economy would cause societal collapse. Those bastards have learned nothing since their Great Leap Forward."

Max shook his head, "Commies always think that the things that didn't work before could work if only the right people were in charge."

Fuji sighed, "My family lost a lot during that time period. It's one of the reasons my Mom and Dad fled to Hong Kong."

"And then the Brits gave that away."

"Yup, so we went to Australia, and when that went to shit, we moved to Los Angeles."

"Always on the run, yeah?" Peter Goldstein spoke up, "Try being a Jew."

"But now you stand and fight back," Fuji pointed out.

"Yeah, we learned that going along to get along would just get us killed in the long run. It's about time the United States woke up to that."

MacDonald looked better than he had in days, a good night's sleep can work wonders if you can manage it. He handed Wolf a slip of paper.

"That's an address in Glasgow. It's a small flat, three men are staying there. We believe that they are funneling money to the rioters making trouble in southern Scotland."

"Funneling the money from?"

MacDonald paused, then decided to share what he knew with Wolf. "Well, Mr. Wolf, we strongly believe that the Chinese Communist Party has an interest in keeping the UK in turmoil. We don't have any firm proof, but ..."

"Those three guys in the apartment might provide that proof, right?"

"Exactly. But we don't need all three."

"We'll bring you one of them, the one that is probably the brains hopefully."

MacDonald handed Wolf a photograph, "We think this is the lad we want."

Wolf studied the photo, "Guy doesn't look Chinese ..."

"He's Albanian, the other two are Chechens, we think. They provide the muscle, the Albanian provides the funds, which we're pretty sure originate in China."

"Bring back the moneyman, you got it. What we do with the Chechens ..."

"Might be better if they don't live to tell tales." MacDonald said in a low voice.

"That's what I was thinking." Wolf nodded then turned to go.

"When do you think ..." MacDonald began.

"Tonight, it will happen tonight. Bring the moneyman here when we're done?"

"If possible, if not, contact me," MacDonald handed Wolf a burner phone, "the number of my burner is the only one on there. Best of luck to you chaps."

"Doesn't hurt, but if we do it right, those guys won't know what hit them. Skill trumps luck."

¹ The Ministry of State Security (MSS) is the principal civilian intelligence and security service of the People's Republic of China.