Guardians of the Dao

By Gene Deutsch

Two American assassins are on the run. Desperate to disappear into another country, they contact an old friend and get hired in Singapore. They agree to work for a group comprised of a combination of police, criminals, and even government officials, to protect and collect the massive hidden money of the ‘Dao’. This organization hides in plain view, much like the old Mafia in the United States. The people of the Dao do not care about crimes, prostitution, drugs, or any other illegal activity. They only want their share of all of the profits. They do not provide protection, and promise you nothing. You pay… They leave.
Never knowing who they can trust, the two blindly follow orders and travel all around Asia using whatever weapons or wit that it takes to complete their tasks. They soon realize that not all is as it seems when their boss is really just training them to pull the ultimate job… to rob the Dao itself.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jun 24, 2016
• ISBN: 9781365216817

Book preview

Guardians of the Dao

Guardians of the Dao

Guardians of the Dao

Copyright © 2016 by Gene Deutsch

Published by LULU.com Publishing

Published in the United States

First Printing

No part of this work may be reproduced without written permission from the publisher

except brief quotations for review purposed

This book is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to real characters or events is purely coincidental

Cover Design by Gene Deutsch

ISBN:  978-1-365-21663-3

Chapter 1    All Too Easy

Starting the day off in a shoot-out with bank guards, followed by a rousing one car race through the streets of a major city at 11 AM is just not on most people’s ‘To Do" list, but that is exactly the way Roth and Jamie Farin began this gorgeous Friday in the Sunshine state.   After months of planning, they pulled off a messy piece of work in the Seacoast Credit Union, right in the middle of Jacksonville, Florida.  They were now making their way south on I-95, with a still undetermined amount of new bills in an old leather satchel.

They had at least a five-minute head start on the law as they started down the interstate, due in part to Roth doing some excellent recon work and studying the city’s street layout.  Jacksonville was built as a planned city and downtown is laid out in a perfect checkerboard.  The traffic lights are set so that if you hit one green light, you hit them all the way through.  Access to the on-ramps to the highway is a fleeing criminal’s wet dream, and the city has an abundance of financial institutions with a good local economy. Even a couple of dunderheads could have figured out that this all adds up to a pretty easy escape.  It would have been just that simple too, but some things you can’t plan for.  All it takes is one smart-ass rent-a-cop in the credit union to mistakenly think, Hey, maybe the crook's guns aren't really loaded to completely fuck up the whole day.  A lot of things could have gone smoother today.  Having to shoot the guard was bad enough, but killing the lady that ran into them as they were fleeing through the double set of doors was completely unforeseen.  Driving only one block to a parking garage, then trading vehicles, was brilliant.  Running over the parking attendant on the way out, well, not so much.  Yes, a lot of mistakes were made, but enough went right and they were 5 miles south of the scene before the cops were even called. 

What'd we get? asked Roth as he steered the stolen, chili-red Durango with his knee, freeing up both hands to cup around a flame and light his flattened, bent Marlborough.  He was scanning all three mirrors, while keeping an eye on his speed so as not to draw too much attention.  They had enough of that already.

Just keep your eyes on the road and we'll count it when we get to the hotel.  The bitch put six bundles in the bag ….so I don’t know.  How much is in a bundle?  Jamie questioned while squinting his eyes into the beat up leather bag.  Roth just shrugged his shoulders and blew out a huge puff of white smoke.  It really didn't matter how much they had, he knew it was enough to get them out of the country.

Cousins by blood, and friends by poor choice, they had been leading a life of crime together for nearly 15 years, that is if you don’t count the four and a half years that Roth spent in the Southern Mississippi Correctional Institution.  Of course, according to him, he was totally innocent of those charges.  Roth was blessed with chiseled good looks, and cursed with a wicked attitude.  Judging by his appearance, he could easily be mistaken for a well-dressed, middle income, businessman.  He even put in a few years of college towards an engineering degree.  However, by his actions and words he would come off as more of a low-life thug, taking things at his own pace, grabbing what he could along the way.   What makes him different, and has kept him alive this long, is that Roth is the thinking man’s criminal.  He’s the consummate planner.  From the body count at the Credit Union you might think that he needlessly ended the lives of three people to make off with a little cash that will last him only a few months.  The fact is that he never plans to kill anyone in the beginning.  Oh, he doesn’t think twice about offing someone that gets between him and the money that he believes he deserves, he just doesn’t write the gunfire into his original scheme. It is not his goal or intent to hurt anyone, but shit happens.

Jamie is more complex.  He falls more into the category of a catalyst.  He’s the gasoline on the fire.  If there is ever a decision to be made quickly, Jamie wants to be the one to make it, and he is usually wrong.  He has never done any time in prison because catalysts never get caught; they get other people caught.  At thirty-three years old, two years younger than Roth, he is already responsible, directly or indirectly, for killing 5 people and committing dozens of robberies.  His short, wiry frame and below average looks are enhanced, albeit in a bad way, by a poor taste in clothing and a five-dollar haircut.  Jamie recognizes that Roth usually has things under control and is normally in charge, but doesn’t always have enough common sense to listen to him. 

Random thoughts began going through Roth’s head as he sped down the highway.  He wondered how he got himself into this position of being so hot with the cops that he would have to live in another part of the world to stay a free man.  His early life wasn’t that bad.  He grew up with what he thought were at the time, a seemingly decent set of parents, and a younger sister that he has since lost touch with.  Of course he blamed a lot of his problems on his father, whose real estate dealings, he found out late in his teens, were mostly elaborate cons.  But what he wondered was whether the cons, and the money they brought in, were what drew him to this life, or if it was hereditary.  Maybe his dad had it in his genes to steal and cheat people on a daily basis and passed them to his son.  His mom started out as a pretty nice lady till she got hooked on bingo and video poker at the local parlor.  Could that have done it?  It was something that Roth thought about from time to time.  For some reason, it was going through his head now.  When they were younger, he and Jamie played like normal kids.  They played army, and cowboys and Indians, but that later turned to Who can steal the biggest candy bar at the local store? That was Jamie’s favorite game.  Most of the time, Roth would win, as Jamie would show him a bar of chocolate that he was about to steal, and then dare him to pocket a bigger one. 

Roth’s thoughts turned to more pressing matters.  Although he had spent a lot of time setting up this little escapade, he still hadn’t solidified their final destination.  For months now, he had been pulling in favors and calling everyone he knew to get hooked up with a place that would offer Jamie and him some shelter, yet allow them to earn a living.  It was kind of a shame that he spent all of his time in jail reading comic books, smoking cigarettes and telling stories of how he was going to score big when he hit the streets next time.  Now instead of slipping back into society with a good job and some goals in his life, he finds himself speeding down a highway, running from hundreds of people that would just love to put a hole in him or lock him away till he was old enough to collect Social Security.  Since there is no great calling for comic book readers in corporate America, he feels he is now forced to pursue the fine art of looting and pillaging; but where?

The Durango didn’t need to travel far, and Roth slowed to exit just north of St. Augustine.  They took a right at the end of the ramp and about a mile later, they turned down a brush covered side road that you could only find if you knew where it was.  Even a helicopter would have trouble spotting them in this dense swampy area with all of the cypress trees and Spanish moss hanging overhead, but there was only the calls of loons and egrets when they exited the vehicle.  One quick push into the swamp and the Durango was partially gone.  Tossing just a few branches of cover over it was good enough for their needs.  They didn't plan on being around when it's found anyway. 

Roth opened a rusty door and jumped in an old Mustang they had hidden in the tall reeds, started it up, and eased it out.  With adrenaline still pumping and thoughts of the morning swirling around in his head like short ‘You Tube videos, Roth looked over at Jamie and arbitrarily blurted out, You know, if you hadn't yelled 'SHOOT HER!, I probably wouldn't have wasted that old lady on the way out of that joint.  I mean, we already had the money, the guard was down, and the others weren't gonna move for an hour, they were so scared.

Where the hell did that come from?  Are you gettin' soft, ya pussy? Jamie asked in an irritated voice.  Man, I remember when you would mow down anyone that got in your way a few years back, and your only complaint was that you had to buy more bullets.  I would have taken her out myself, but I had to keep an eye on the fucking guard.  He looked like he was still alive and he had the only other gun in the room.  That old bitch got a good look at our faces, and stockings or not, she might still be able to make us. 

Roth shrugged and raised his eyebrows as if to say, Yeah, you're probably right without really admitting it.  In any case, it looked like they got away clean, and that's all that mattered.  They drove the mile back to the highway and into the Ponce Motel, a cheap motor inn conveniently located across from the on ramp that led back onto the highway.  Now, only a couple phone calls to make and they were on their way out of Florida and out of the country for good.  It's amazing how the criminal mind can overcome roadblocks that the non-criminal mind would find insurmountable, but yet they are almost completely incapable of simpler things like relationships, holding a steady job, or baking a loaf of bread.  Choosing their final destination was the task now upon them.  They already had their passports and had only to call around to get airline tickets, as soon as they figured out where that was going to be.  Roth had a connection from prison that had been out for a few years, who claimed to have connections to a drug/money laundering ring that supposedly involved at least 5 countries.  Two of the countries mentioned that where they might be needed were Okinawa and Singapore.  Roth knew absolutely nothing about either place except that Singapore doesn’t like people to spray graffiti on automobiles, and Mr. Miagi once took the Karate Kid to Okinawa. This was not nearly enough to make a logical decision.   They needed to move fast, and with this morning's escapades added in, make that lightning fast.  He pulled the Mustang into the motel parking lot and entered their small room to make his calls.

Neither Roth nor Jamie was ever much for traveling, and Geography and Social Studies were two subjects that were apparently never touched upon in their respective schools.  Okinawa is one of a string of islands that lies south of, and is part of Japan.  There is so much U.S. military there that they almost speak exclusively English with a bit of Japanese drizzled in.  It’s a beautiful, breezy place that remains about ten years behind the rest of the world in development.  The locals have the most stunning gardens around their houses and grow most of the vegetables that the family eats.  Mystery and intrigue do exist there, but more importantly they would have had a fairly safe haven and a cushy job with a great combination of a relaxed police force and modest drug laws.  Singapore is just as beautiful; maybe even more so than Okinawa.  It’s only a degree or two off the equator, so the weather never varies far from 85 degrees, and they have never had a natural disaster.  It has never had an earthquake, a hurricane, a snowstorm, or even a tsunami.  The city is easily the cleanest metropolis in the world.  They speak English there, but many other languages as well.  The official language is Bahasa Malaysian, and almost every local there speaks some dialect of Chinese.  Either place would be a good choice if all they had to worry about was hiding out, but with the line of work they needed to be in, Okinawa would be the way to go.  Singapore laws and penalties are just too harsh on gun carrying hoods.  What happened next, however sealed their fate, and led them into a corner of the world that few people on the wrong side of the law would ever venture into.

Once in their hotel room, Jamie jumped into the shower and Roth started on his phone calls.  The first person he called was his contact, an ex-con that he only knew by the name Madman.  This guy spent a good piece of his life incarcerated, but for the time being, he was out on parole.  He had a few things going on the outside.  Of course, none of them where remotely legal.  Madman was about as close to being a friend as Roth and Jamie had.  You have to trust someone in this world and this is a story about trust as much as anything else.

Madman was glad to hear from Roth.  He knew all about the little job that Roth was pulling in the morning and was laying odds that he wouldn’t survive.  So, you guys made it.  Cool.  I think I solved your relocation dilemma.  Do you remember all those stories I used to tell about the old days and my old partner?  Well, guess what?  It turns out that he’s the boss of the group that needs you in Singapore.  From what he tells me, he became somewhat of a big time thug, some even call him ‘legendary’ in that part of the world.  Anyway, I rang him up and he’s going on my word that you guys will work out and all that, so if you’re into it, you’re all set.  What do you think?

Roth was just glad that he had a place to go, and since he hadn’t made a final decision, this sounded pretty good to him.  You’re talking about Malka, right?

Yep!

We hadn’t made a decision, but that’ll work out great.  All I know is what you told me about him and a couple stories from some other guys that knew him when I was in the joint.  I heard that once he shot a guy for pounding on the phone booth he was in.  Sheesh, Malka… this ought to be fun.  Is he going to pick us up at the airport?

Nah, take a cab to Yu Li Yuan Apartments on Gilstead Road, apartment 256.  You’ll meet up with a guy named Tiong.  He’ll tell you everything you will need to know to get started.  Take some knives, guns, and some ammo.  You already know about the suitcase, and don’t forget to pay the money back that you owe before you go.  I don’t want my name tarnished here after you leave.  Madman warned.

Roth ended by saying, I’ll leave an envelope for you at the counter of this motel.

Getting a passport to leave the country for a job in Singapore is easy, if you are, say, a 30-year-old computer technician that is sponsored by a reputable corporation.  But, if you are a known criminal with a sheet full of petty thefts, one grand theft, assault, and one count of resisting arrest, it gets a little sticky.  Roth did a favor in prison for a guy, who owed money to a guy… that knew a guy.  Well, the bottom line is that that both got fake passports.  This still would have been risky because of the new scanners that they now use on passports, but these had real names and authentic codes from genuine travelers, but with new pictures. 

While Roth called the airlines Jamie counted the money.  The take was just a little over thirty grand.  That may sound like a lot of cash, but after they figured in their expenses, it would barely leave enough for an initial payment on a small apartment.  Airline tickets alone were two thousand a piece.  They needed two thousand more for the passports, and setting up the heist took a couple more that they borrowed from a shark, who wanted double that in return.  Their biggest expense was yet to come.  They had to bring their guns into Singapore, along with the money that they would have left.  For a mere eight thousand dollars, you can get any bag into most any country through the BHS express.  BHS, or Baggage Handled Special, is one of the tightest run and most secretive businesses in the underworld.  The man that gave Roth the phone number for BHS was not exactly sure who owns or runs it.    You pay the money to a messenger boy and give him the address that you want the bag delivered to.  You will receive a sticker to attach to your luggage.  Fill out a fake tag with the name on your passport and check it in.  You’re done.  Well, at least as far as you are concerned, you’re done.  What happens next is ingenious and at the same time, transparent.  One BHS-employed baggage handler at the airport sorts out the bags with the stickers before they are taken out to the tarmac.  They are placed on the plane together and removed together.  Next, they are placed on the last baggage cart in the train and brought to the terminal.  Along the way the train passes to the other side of a small delivery truck where the last car is dropped off of the train.  That car is loaded into the truck and driven out of the airport without any customs intervention.  The bags are sealed by the owner and never opened.  The organization that runs the BHS has a pretty good record of delivering every bag to its owner.  What would you find in a BHS bag?  Well, anything from guns, explosives, or money, to body parts and of course, drugs.  They don’t ask about contents as long as the $8 G’s are paid up front.  There was a rumor going around for a while that the plane that blew up over Scotland a few years back was one of their shipments, but that has been disproven since everyone that sent a BHS bag on that flight is still alive today.  The organization would have taken care of that; they don’t make mistakes.  Most major airports have a BHS group for a total of over 3,000 employees worldwide.  There is no insurance for the contents offered, other than the guarantee that it won’t be traced to you if the bag is ever discovered by the authorities.  If the cops knock on your door with the bag, you can have your money back.  You’re not going to need it where they will be taking you though.

Jamie and Roth’s bag ended up packed with ten thousand dollars along with two 38 Special Long Barrels and one .44 Ruger Redhawk that Jamie liked to call The Hawk.   There were also a couple switchblades and a carton of smokes.  Neither did many drugs to speak of, but had nothing against making money from people who did.  Right after Roth made the calls for the tickets, he called the number he had for BHS and told them their location.  They locked and taped the bag closed and waited patiently. They both showered and dressed like respectable citizens going on vacation.  This is the first time in years that both of them were without a weapon in the back of their waistband and they felt naked.  It took less than twenty minutes till the knock on the motel door came from BHS courier.  Roth spied out the peephole to make sure he wasn’t opening the door to a parking lot full of county sheriffs, only to see a young man dressed in what looked like a Fed-Ex uniform, only in a shade of green.  He had a patch on that read ‘NO-MESS EXPRESS", a front company that had a couple of panel trucks and an actual genuine trucking business happening but made most of their money on BHS bags.  Roth opened the door and let him in.  The exchange was so smooth that it was almost comical.

Here’s the money and the address, said Roth.

Here’s your sticker, responded the BHS courier.  Enough said.

The two loaded all their worldly possessions into the car and after a leisurely late lunch started their drive to the Orlando International Airport. On the way, Roth gave his partner the details he received on the phone from Madman.  The scribbled note just said, "Tiong, Yu Li Yuan, Gilstead, 256.   They arrived at the airport an hour and a half later, which still left them more than two hours before their scheduled departure time.  Jamie actually bought that car more than 2 years ago for three hundred dollars.  He figured he got his money’s worth out of it.  As they pulled into the airport, Jamie thought it would be funny to park it in long term parking because they were never coming back, so they pulled it in, took a ticket, and parked the rusted hunk of junk.  They grabbed their small travel bags and their BHS marked big bag, said goodbye to the mustang, and walked to the terminal to check in.  With new clothes, a clean shave, and no gun in their belts, they felt like fish riding bicycles.  To calm his nerves Roth started getting a little friendly with the check-in girl and told her that he would pay for her ticket if she would come with them.  While that brought a smile to her face, she swiftly declined.  The marked suitcase was put on the belt, and their clothes bag soon followed. 

What time do we get to Singapore? Jamie asked the ticket taker at the gate.

10:10 PM, she replied.

WOW!  That’s great! Jamie exclaimed as they walked away.  Looking down at his watch, seeing that it was already 5:00 PM was so encouraging.  Just a 5-hour flight, dude, he said to Roth walking the ramp.  I was thinking it was going to be longer."  Roth considered telling him that she meant that they would arrive at 10:10 PM tomorrow, EST time.  This trip, with changeovers, was going to be 28 hours.  What an excellent opportunity to play with Jamie’s head, one of Roth’s favorite things to do.

They had no contraband on their person but had difficulties getting through customs because they were so uncomfortable around security guards.  Jamie hated to be searched and Roth just hated cops and security.  While Jamie was removing his belt, shoes, everything in his pockets and assuming the position, Roth was plugging in his laptop and wondering if Jamie ever removed the little program that he asked him