The Prisoner's Gold (The Hunters 3) Read Online Free

breaths completed his exercise.
    Lim said nothing as he waited for his boss to acknowledge his presence.
    Eventually Feng turned and smiled broadly, showing perfect white teeth. Then he spoke in Mandarin to his second-in-command. ‘What has you in such a rush today?’
    ‘The brothers have captured a smuggler,’ answered Lim, who was standing at attention as if he were reporting to an emperor.
    ‘And why should I care?’ Feng asked, amused. In a district the size of Hong Kong, there were literally thousands of crimes per day, most of which had nothing to do with the Fists.
    ‘The smuggler is Australian. We caught him at the Tsim Sha Tsui marketplace.’
    ‘What was he smuggling?’
    ‘Jade figurines from the Ming Dynasty.’
    Feng’s smile vanished, and a scowl furrowed his brow. He took notice whenever foreigners committed any crime in China – from small slights to massive drug deals – but he took particular interest when a foreigner tried to rob his country’s heritage. He moved across the room, grabbed a thin black T-shirt, and slipped it over his powerful torso. ‘Where is he?’
    ‘We have him downstairs. Should I have him brought up for you?’
    ‘No,’ Feng growled. ‘We will go down.’
    They rode silently to the hotel lobby and switched elevators to descend the entire distance to the sub-basement’s parking level.
    The elevator opened to a clean, brightly lit lot with thick yellow lines on the ground and walls. The building had several lots, but this level was closed off for the Fists. Diagonally across from the elevator was a private office where the smuggler was being kept.
    Inside the office there were three large guards in tailored suits, all standing silently around a wooden desk and chair. Chained to the desk was a scruffy Australian of nearly thirty. His eyes were sky blue and his hair an unruly mop of dirty blond curls. He was big – more than two hundred pounds of meat – although his body lacked definition.
    ‘Good afternoon,’ Feng said in English.
    Relief filled the tourist’s face as he looked up at Feng and Lim.
    ‘Oh, thank God! Someone who speaks English. Listen, mate, I’m not sure what these boys have told you, but I didn’t do anything wrong. My business partner assured me that the items were paid for and our shipping permits were up to date. Obviously I can’t read the damn forms – they’re written in symbols or whatever you call those squiggly things – but I swear to you, I thought everything was legal.’
    ‘Is that so?’ Feng said, pondering his next move.
    ‘I’m telling you, mate, it’s nothing but a misunderstanding.’
    Feng nodded and stuck out his hand. ‘Yes. A big misunderstanding.’
    The Aussie smiled and leaned forward to shake hands with Feng, hoping upon hope that Feng was dumb enough to believe his lie, but it wasn’t meant to be. Feng struck with lightning speed, grasping the man’s wrist and twisting it with so much force that bones cracked.
    The man dropped face first onto the desk, wailing in agony.
    Feng continued, ‘You believed you could come to my country and steal our history. You misunderstood who the Chinese people are. We are not your playthings, your servants, your inferiors. Then again, your people descended from criminals, so I should expect no better.’
    Between shouts of pain and gasps for breath, the Aussie tried to explain himself. ‘I’m sorry … I didn’t mean to disrespect you … Ahhhh! Look, just call the embassy, I’ll give everything back …’
    ‘You’d like us to contact your country’s consul general? To send him a message?’ Feng twisted the hand harder, and the young man screamed. Tears were literally shooting from the man’s eyes, and a thick band of yellowish snot stretched from his nostril to his mouth. Meanwhile, the rest of his face had turned a brilliant crimson from the rush of blood.
    ‘Yes! Please! Send him a message!’
    Feng slammed the Aussie’s arm flat on the desktop and held out