Chapter 12: Midday Boondoggle

The four members of Lagoon Company and the Wolf accompanied Hotel Moscow's forces to Hong Kong on their ship, the Maria Zeleska. At this stage of the fighting, Balalaika had enough time and resources poured into the operation that she had no need to smuggle people and supplies into the city and could instead have her ship docked at the port, no questions asked. Dutch found it to be a nice change from piloting the Black Lagoon as well. As soon as they arrived, Rock, dressed in a fine navy suit, was escorted to the meeting point while Balalaika and Boris went to one of Hotel Moscow's temporary safehouses in the city. The others stayed behind on the ship to await further instruction, with a military field telephone nearby for when contact needed to be made. Additionally, a large number of Hotel Moscow's forces remained aboard with walkie-talkies so they could stay updated on the events of the day. Dutch and Benny were not strictly necessary for the purposes of this trip, but they had been advised that they were welcome to come along should they please. Considering there was nothing else preoccupying them back in Roanapur, they decided to join the others. As well as that, Dutch was worried. He almost jumped at the opportunity to follow Rock and Revy to this city for fear that they would end up at odds with one another and jeopardise the mission.

Dutch leaned up against the front of the ship and watched the cars passing by the port. Benny held a newspaper up in front of him, his back to the city as he leaned up against the ship beside his companion. It was amusing to see the two of them in such opposite states. Revy, who was begrudgingly wearing a brown biker leather biker jacket to conceal her guns and khaki combat trousers to ward off the cold from her legs, took a seat beside the field telephone and propped her legs up on the side of the vessel, her hands behind her head and her eyes shut as the sun sprinkled across her skin. Lastly, the Wolf was only a few feet away, tending to a motorcycle the Triad had provided him for his assassination, the details of which were still minimal. The base model was a brownish-green BMW R75 with no sidecar, an old military-era motorcycle that saw widespread use during World War 2. But it had been customised upon the assassin's request, with handlebars belonging to a Yamaha, Kenda dual sport tires, a V-twin engine and Harley Davidson exhausts. It had been a bit of a scramble for the Triad to fulfil the request, but they managed to pull a few strings with some mechanics and black market parts dealers just in time for the trip. The storage boxes normally located near the back wheel had been removed. There was a long green gun bag strapped to the motorcycle's frame instead, a weapon that the Triad had also provided upon the assassin's specific request. A red Yamaha R1 sports bike stood nearby, as well, provided for Revy in case negotiations went awry. It wasn't customised and was would drive exactly as it would have the day it left the manufacturers, just how she liked it.

Dutch continued to watch the cars go by as Rock went to meet with the two individuals Balalaika wanted him to negotiate with. If this went south, Hong Kong would be a warzone and leaving the city would prove to be quite a bit trickier than expected. It was the waiting that Dutch struggled with the most. Normally, he could be as patient as a saint, but his mood hadn't been the same as of late and he sighed to himself. Benny must have noticed something was wrong. He lowered his newspaper.

"Something up, Dutch?" he asked. Lagoon Company's leader debated whether or not to respond, but he supposed Benny had a right to know.

"It's nothing," he said at first. "Not really. Just worried about those two."

"After the other night, I don't blame you," Benny concurred. He, too, had been present when Rock arrived in the door covered in blood. It hadn't been the first time that had happened in recent memory, which Benny found somewhat amusing. "Any idea what happened this time?"

"I didn't ask," Dutch admitted. He looked over his shoulder at Revy, who had put the headphones of her Walkman over her ears and was listening to music. She would not hear them. "To tell you the truth, it was probably a long time coming. Those two had it easy for a while, there. It was inevitable that they would butt heads again."

"Really, Dutch?" Benny asked, incredulous. "After everything they've been through, it looked like they finally had it all hashed out. Whatever 'it' is."

"I thought so too, Benny Boy. For a while, I believed they'd finally managed to work together. But it seems like whatever he does, she's still not happy. And we all know he's got a unique talent for fucking up a good thing." Benny stifled a laugh.

"Preaching to the choir," he joked. "Let's hope whatever it is, they can figure it out. The last thing we need is for Revy to put a bullet in his head."

"Damn straight," Dutch agreed. He sighed again, crossing his arms on the side of the ship and resting his chin against them. "What is he doing, anyway? Throwing his damn life away. I don't get him."

"Well, I can't speak for Rock's nonsensical suicidal tendencies," Benny began, "but we're sure as hell no strangers to throwing our lives away, right?"

Those words resonated with Dutch more than he cared to admit. He stood there, motionless, as Benny's voice echoed in his ears like the sound of a bat in a cave. He watched the pedestrians and vehicles passing by and drank in the sight of the buildings that spanned the circumference of Hong Kong. Soon enough, the concrete jungle became a real one and the drab, grey buildings became tall, green trees. Dutch could almost feel the M16 assault rifle in his hands, the heat of the Vietnamese jungle coaxing droplets of sweat from his skin. The memory was clear as day, as if it were happening before his eyes at this very moment.

"Hey, Dutch!" Benny called, snapping Lagoon's leader out of his trance-like state. "Earth to Dutch! You still with us, big man?" Dutch smirked.

"Sure am, Benny Boy. Sure am."

(*)

The two Chinese men sitting across from Rock watched him intently as they awaited the negotiations to begin. Clearly, they were not too keen on talking first and would let Lagoon Company's businessman make the first move. One of the men, to the left, wore a light beige suit over a black shirt and he had a Type 59 at his waist, a Makarov pistol that had been adopted by the Chinese military and reproduced with minor cosmetic differences in 1959. The other man had a light blue pinstripe suit and wore thick glasses. A gold chain could be seen beneath his black shirt and he, too, had a Type 59 holstered at his waist. Additionally, he had a knuckle duster on one hand that he fidgeted with throughout this meeting.

"Thank you for agreeing to see me," Rock began awkwardly. "My employers appreciate your civility."

"Cut the bullshit," the man to the left snapped. "It was your 'Balalaika' who called this meeting, not us. So get on with it." A little less surefooted now, Rock cleared his throat and proceeded with the negotiations, anyway. There was not a whole lot he could do if they refused to cooperate, a fact he was at peace with.

"Well, then," he said. "As you know, Hotel Moscow are willing to agree to a ceasefire under certain terms. I'm here to offer those terms to you."

"This is a waste of time, Kang," the man on the right grumbled. "We could be out there taking the fight to the Russians like the boss said."

"With all due respect," Rock interrupted, "the Chee family have fallen on hard times, from what I hear. If anyone needs to listen to this, it's you, Mister Chee." The first man, to the left, seemed almost impressed.

"The boy has spirit, Enlai," he said energetically. Enlai became disgruntled and reluctantly sat back in his chair. "Why don't you tell us these terms your employers have offered?" Rock nodded.

"Hotel Moscow have been working to stamp your people out for a while, now. And they're not your only problem. You've managed to step on the toes of the Triad, as well. So they'll be coming for you, too." Rock was attempting to hammer home the fact that they had little in the way of options, but the Chinese men were becoming bored. They wanted to hear the terms of this supposed arrangement.

"Get to the damn point!" Enlai spat. "What do they want from us so badly that they sent a bumbling Japanese businessman to negotiate?!"

"They want your surrender," Rock said simply. They found that preposterous to begin with, but Rock had no qualms about making them well aware how cornered they were. "Miss Balalaika has offered to spare your people-along with any former Dead Men-in exchange for your loyalty to her. You will act as informants for Hotel Moscow and feed information directly up the chain of command. The Triad has also made it known that they are willing to absorb your families into their ranks provided you put an end to the fighting, here."

The two men looked at one another.

"Informants for the Russians," Kang said, "and lower enforcers for the Triad. Balalaika…she wants us playing both sides?"

"What happens after this arrangement is the business of Hotel Moscow," Rock cleverly evaded the question. "I am just here lay the terms out on the table." Enlai put his hand up to Kang's ear and whispered something to him. Kang nodded in agreement, returning his gaze to Rock.

"And if we refuse?" he asked. "Perhaps we do not want an end to the fighting. We deserve our freedom, same as any of you. What happens if we reject these terms?" Rock picked up the glass of water on the table and took a slow, steady sip from it. Once it was empty, he set it back down and slowly rose from the seat, much to the dismay of the others. He bowed to them politely and went to leave.

"Then I'm afraid there isn't anything I can do to stop them from destroying you. Good day, gentlemen." It was a risky play, but it would pay off if it had the desired effect. Judging by the sound that met Rock's ears, it hadn't exactly had the intended reaction. It was the sound of a gun being cocked. The Japanese man froze, his hand inches from the door.

"Sit back down," Kang commanded him. Rock turned his head to see the Type 59 pointed at his back. "Now."

(*)

The field telephone began to ring and Revy only just heard it over the sound of the music she was listening to. She removed the headphones of her Walkman and snatched up the phone.

"Yello? Hey, bossman. Huh? Yeah, he's here. Wolfy! It's Chang looking for you." The Wolf came away from his bike and took the phone in his hand, placing it to his ear as Revy positioned the headphones back over her ears.

"You made it there in one piece, after all," Mister Chang joked.

"Just about," Wolf shot back. "It was looking sticky at one point, there. You never told me there were krakens in the South China Sea."

"Funny," Chang said drily. "I've got some more information for you about your target."

"At long last," Wolf said, delighted to finally be given some direction with this. "Let's hear it."

"No file or paperwork, you'll be glad to hear," Chang told him. "All I have is a name, but that should be as much as you need to track him down. It's someone you know well, Wolf. Rahul Matsumoto."