Jade Dragon (Action Girl Thrillers) Read online

  JADE DRAGON

  By A.D. Phillips

  Published by Action Girl Books (Manchester, UK)

  E-mail: [email protected]

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  Copyright Notice

  Jade Dragon first published in United Kingdom in 2006 by Utopia City Books

  E-Book published in 2014 by Action Girl Books

  Jade Dragon Copyright © A.D. Phillips 2006

  All Rights Reserved

  Cover design by Action Girl Books (using GIMP)

  Using Stock Images Licensed from Shutterstock:

  47784379 Copyright © Unholy Vault Designs

  142073431 Copyright © Elnur

  Chapter One: A Woman in the Crowd

  Jade arrived at Moscone Convention Center shortly before eight o’clock. In contrast with other, more historic buildings in downtown San Francisco, the conference venue was a modern structure fit for the twenty first century. Its top-notch facilities, central location and proximity to the bay attracted companies from all over the world. Admittance to most meetings was by invitation only, and tonight was no different.

  As usual Dragonsoft had spared no expense on presentation. Laser beacons shone on a banner draped above the main entrance. The company logo was prominently displayed on black sheeting: a scaled, fire-breathing dragon straight out of medieval legend. Words were superimposed over the creature’s belly in silvery, old style English lettering: Annual Conference XII.

  Jade had never been to the Moscone Center, but a quick browse through the official website had given her an idea what to expect. Within the glass and steel walls were three floors of presentation rooms, meeting areas, restaurants, and Internet connections for a thousand laptop computers. Just as well, since the crowd outside was at least two hundred strong. Other than a few homeless people squatting along Fourth Street, everyone present was here for the meeting. The male to female ratio was approximately three to one. The few women present wore thick coats to ward off the effects of the wintry night. All except for one.

  Jade was the exception. Her bright green evening dress flapped against her knees as she strode purposefully towards the entrance, unfazed by the chilly, December breeze. Three brute-faced Neanderthals in tuxedos manned the front doors. One man checked tickets while the others lingered in the background, ready to leap into action at the first sign of trouble. Jade’s name – real or assumed - wasn’t on the official guest list, but she’d devised a plan for getting past the gatekeepers. All she needed was an unsuspecting victim. Twenty feet from the entrance, she chose her target.

  Acting the dumb blonde, Jade tripped over a partially raised manhole cover and stumbled into the path of an Asian businessman. Despite being handicapped by high heels, she ably regained her balance. Her target was not so agile or fortunate. The man tried in vain to recover from his fall, but only succeeded in landing chest down on the sidewalk. As he wiped his bloodied nose, Jade turned, knelt beside him, and extended a silk-gloved hand.

  “Ever so sorry,” she said, greeting him with a warm smile. “I really should watch where I’m going.”

  Realizing he’d become the center of attention, the Asian reluctantly accepted Jade’s offer of assistance. Whatever anger he’d suppressed quickly resurfaced once he saw oily smears all over his five hundred dollar suit. Without so much as a word, he pushed Jade’s hands away, and stormed off to join his partner for the evening: a shapely Oriental who looked less than half his age. While the couple engaged in heated conversation, the cause of their grief turned away and allowed herself a faint smirk of triumph. Several minutes later the Asian would realize his ticket was missing, but by then it was too late. The thief had disappeared into the crowd.

  The conference center’s lobby was packed. Even amongst their business associates, high-ranking executives stood out like proverbial sore thumbs, drinking vintage wine and munching fine chocolate whilst those lower down the corporate ladder looked on with envy. Elsewhere in the room groups of guys (and the occasional girl) stood by fifty-inch plasma TVs, cordless videogame controllers clenched tight in their palms. These hardcore gamers seemed completely oblivious to those around them, lost in a fantasy world of sleek cars, alien hunters, and scantily clad heroines. One bearded, spiky haired geek noticed Jade and beckoned her across, but she ignored him and proceeded directly to the big event.

  Inside the auditorium – where the president’s speech was to take place - luxury chairs were arranged in curved rows around a central, curtained off stage. Attendees filed down the aisles with decreasing frequency, while those already seated talked quietly amongst themselves as they waited for the presentation. Jade was among the last to enter. She chose an aisle seat in the back row, dug her heeled shoes into the cushion ahead, and stowed her purse beneath the chair.

  At eight o’clock precisely the lights dimmed, and the stage curtains parted to reveal two suited men behind a lectern. The speaker nearest the stand stepped forward. Randall Forbes was the company’s legal consultant, a middle-aged man dressed in a glossy gray suit with matching trousers, a spotless white shirt and a chequered necktie. His pale brown hair was trimmed short and neatly combed. Randall approached the speaker’s stand with a confident, self-appreciative swagger. He held his arms out wide with the palms face forward, like a car salesman pressurizing a customer to go over budget.

  Randall waited for the guests to fall silent, then addressed them over the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he began. “It is my pleasure to welcome you to Dragonsoft’s twelfth annual meeting. I won’t bore you with the trivial details of why we’re here. These lavish ceremonies are quite familiar to us by now.”

  His joke went down well with the business-orientated crowd, but the uninvited blonde guest was far from amused. In stern silence, Jade reached into her purse and pulled out a digital camera. Not for one moment did her eyes leave the stage.

  “And now, without further ado,” Randall continued, “let me introduce the man who made all this possible. The man, whom one might say, is the epitome of the American dream. Please welcome Dragonsoft’s president and founder, Toshigi Tasoto.”

  Deafening applause echoed round the room as Randall stepped aside for the president. Toshigi Tasoto was a white haired Japanese man in his mid-fifties, dressed in traditional black tie. As he took his place behind the lectern, Jade switched on her camera and adjusted the focus. The wonders of modern technology countered effects of glare and distance, and Toshigi’s facial features appeared crystal clear in the viewfinder.

  Toshigi acknowledged the crowd with a brief wave, then commenced his address. “Thank you,” he said in eloquent English. “The American media prefer me to avoid technical jargon, so I’ll put things in simple, everyday terms. In twelve years, under my personal guidance, Dragonsoft has matured from a humble dream into one kickass videogame company.”

  He yelled the final four words out loud, almost demanding a round of applause. The assembled guests responded in kind, even throwing in the occasional whistle or cheer amidst their synchronized claps.

  While Toshigi unashamedly bathed in the limelight, Jade took several pictures of his face. “Happy anniversary, f—” she muttered under her breath, but Toshigi spoke again before she could finish.

  “Thanks to generous contributions from our board of directors,” he said, “our latest masterpiece hit the streets last week and has received rave reviews across the board. Well, with the usual exceptions from human rights anonymous and the worried parent collective.”

  Jade voiced her thoughts over the ensuing laughter. “You mean my
masterpiece, don’t you? That’s right, Toshigi. Why not bathe in the glory? I don’t see too many people from the design office with invitations to your little party.” She snapped one last image for her collection. “Your lies are almost as pathetic as your jokes.”

  Jade uttered her comments so loud the man beside her took offence and poked her in the shoulder. The lady photographer returned his gaze, her expression cold as she stared him down. It wasn’t long before he became unsettled by her unblinking, bright green eyes and turned his attention back to events onstage.

  Toshigi’s humor was getting worse with every paragraph. “Apparently, there are certain liberal groups who believe our company’s logo is inappropriate. They think a fire-breathing dragon sends out the wrong message to impressionable young children, and that it might turn them into arsonists. Who knows? Perhaps they could burn down some of our rivals and make the world a much better place.”

  Jade had heard enough. She put away the camera, vacated her seat, and headed towards the exit. Nobody in the audience noticed her early departure. They were too busy following their host’s unspoken requests for laughter and applause. The blonde woman left the conference centre through a side door, walked half a block down the street, and turned into a narrow alleyway. Unlike the major downtown routes, this rarely visited section of San Francisco was poorly illuminated. Trash was heaped against graffiti tagged walls, and discarded soda cans rolled to and fro in the wind. Except for Jade there wasn’t a single pedestrian in sight.

  She paused by her parked motorcycle, a high-powered sports model painted black as the night sky. A tanker truck passed on the intersecting street. For a split second its headlight beams silhouetted the woman’s tall, athletic figure, then darkness descended once more. Jade took off her evening dress, exchanging it for biker’s leathers hung from the handlebars. She slipped into the jumpsuit, and fastened its zipper up to her neck. The shiny black jacket and leggings fitted loosely around Jade’s body, disguising her femininity.

  After swapping her high heels and silk gloves for the motorcyclist’s unisex equivalents, Jade tucked her blonde hair inside a crash helmet and lowered the dark, opaque visor over her face. Her transformation complete, she mounted her bike, started the engine, and rode off into the moonlight.

  ***

  Toshigi’s personal chauffeur applied another polish to his master’s company car. Kenji was so absorbed in completing his task that he hadn’t looked at Jade since her arrival, or even paused to wonder why she’d kept her motorcycle engine running. They were alone in the third sub-level of an underground parking garage, and the only ambient sounds were dripping water and the low-pitched buzz of fluorescent strip lights.

  Jade had stopped her motorbike in a damp, shadowy corner at the opposite end to the exit ramp. From there she observed her target fold his cleaning cloth neatly down the middle. Kenji had done a commendable job. The limousine’s creamy white paintwork gleamed like a million dollars, and the silver Dragonsoft crest sparkled on the hood. The only dark spots that remained were the vehicle’s tinted windscreens. Toshigi enjoyed his privacy, and only a select few had ever been invited inside his mobile headquarters.

  In terms of appearance Kenji and Toshigi were very much alike. Both were white haired natives of Japan and, like his boss, Kenji was in his fifties. When it came to their working lives however, the two men shared little in common. While Toshigi spent a typical day attending celebrity dinners and negotiating business contracts, it was Kenji’s job to ensure the Dragonsoft president’s ride was as smooth and comfortable as possible.

  Jade had spent enough time profiling Toshigi’s staff to know Kenji only performed his thankless duties out of respect for a man he’d once admired. Twelve years earlier, when they’d traveled together to the United States, the two countrymen were close friends. Over the years their relationship had grown increasingly distant as prominent Californians displaced the loyal servant down the importance scale. Wealth and media influence mattered a great deal to the new Toshigi, and Kenji failed on both counts. These days the president rode to his meetings in silence, hidden behind an opaque privacy screen.

  Kenji probably knew his days were numbered, but couldn’t bring himself to abandon his childhood companion. Jade had considered involving the driver in her plan, but someone so blindly loyal to the company couldn’t be trusted with her secrets. Kenji might not have committed any sins against her, but a man so forgiving deserved no reprieve.

  “I appreciate your long service,” said Jade, choosing words Toshigi might use before firing an employee. “But it’s over.”

  She revved her bike’s engine while applying the handbrake, causing abrasive pads to screech against the tires. Her actions had the intended effect. Kenji glanced nervously over his shoulder. The chauffeur was spooked.

  The lamp nearest Jade flickered on and off, giving away her position. Jade sat still, watching the frightened little man through her helmet visor. There were a dozen potential hiding places in the garage. It was a veritable maze of cars and concrete pillars. If Kenji fled now, he might prolong his worthless life, but Jade knew he’d no intention of leaving the limousine unattended. Faced with an unknown stalker and no visible means to defend himself, the servant remained predictably faithful to his master.

  Jade released the brake and sped towards her target. She transferred control of the bike to one hand, then used her other to remove a Japanese style katana she’d placed between her knees. The woman in black gripped the weapon’s hilt tight and swung the sword to one side. Fittingly its handle was carved from pure jade, shaped like a dragon’s head. The chauffeur saw his face reflected on the steel blade, interspersed between blurry images of lights and cars.

  The faceless, leather clad huntress pressed her accelerator pedal down and closed in on her prey. Kenji backed into the limo. As Jade came within striking distance, he dived for cover, but even a world-class athlete wouldn’t have escaped her swing. The biker entered a tight spin, and slashed her sword in a perfectly executed, arcing motion. Its razor sharp blade sliced clean through Kenji’s neck, separating his head from his body. Blood sprayed off the katana’s edge, tracing a red line across the car’s rear door.

  The killer spun to a stop on the tarmac. She switched off her motorcycle engine, stepped down, and pried the cloth from Kenji’s twitching fingers. A single rub was enough to clean the blood from her blade. Jade placed the sword in a storage box fastened to her bike, then used the cloth’s reverse side to wipe down the limousine. When the killer was satisfied all traces had been removed from the car, she discarded the blood soaked rag in a nearby trash receptacle.

  A loud beeping noise attracted Jade’s attention. She turned and scanned the garage. Within a split second she traced the sound to its source: a pager clipped to Kenji’s belt. A message scrolled along the liquid crystal screen: Meet me out front. Toshigi. The killer deactivated the pager and grabbed Kenji’s corpse by his legs. While the average woman would have lacked the physical strength to lift a grown man’s body single handed, Jade could hardly be described as average. She had little difficulty moving Kenji’s torso out of sight, and no qualms about collecting his severed head and depositing it in the same trashcan as the cloth.

  “Okay, Mister President,” said Jade, returning to the limousine. “It’s time to play.”

  ***

  Shortly after ten Toshigi bode the last attendee farewell. The petite, auburn haired lady was certainly a lot more attractive than the usual stockbroker. She had the looks of a supermodel and - more importantly - the shrewd instinct required to succeed in a cutthroat business environment. While a short skirt would have suited her better than trousers, she’d make a useful addition to Dragonsoft’s pool of financiers. As the woman’s executive cab drove her away, Toshigi made a mental note to invite her for a private discussion sometime in the near future. She was likely to refuse an alliance at first, but Toshigi was sure he could persuade her to join his team.

  The president glanced at
his gold Rolex wristwatch. Kenji was already fifteen minutes late. The driver was becoming forgetful and complacent in his old age. Toshigi was about to reach for his cellphone when his company car screeched to a halt beside the curb. Barely able to control his anger, Toshigi yanked open the rear door. The handle felt sticky, and a globule of dried red fluid glistened underneath. Now Kenji was getting unreliable, not to mention reckless. It was time to hire a new chauffeur, perhaps a bodyguard or a young girl easy on the eyes. Toshigi made a snap, on the spot decision. Once a suitable replacement had been found, he’d relieve the aging servant of his duties.

  Toshigi stepped inside his limo and slammed the door shut. The car’s rear compartment was outfitted with everything he needed to conduct business on the move. Leather seats afforded Toshigi the highest level of comfort, and the one way windscreens allowed him to enjoy the scenery whilst ensuring his privacy. For security reasons, all calls made from his videophone were routed through a scrambler.

  Toshigi pressed a button on his seat’s armrest and spoke into the limousine’s intercom. “Let’s go home,” he ordered his chauffeur.

  “Let’s not,” a female voice replied.

  The tone was ice cold, enough to send a tingle down Toshigi’s spine. He glanced at the darkened glass partition that separated him from the driver’s cabin, but the person seated up front was enshrouded in shadow. Toshigi reached for the switch that lowered the divider, then thought better of it and withdrew his hand.

  “Who are you?” he asked. “Where’s Kenji?”

  “So you do care about him after all,” the woman said in the same icy tone. “I had the impression he was low down on your list of priorities.” She paused for a moment before continuing. “Your precious driver’s probably in a black bag by now. They’ll need another one for his head.”