Wiser Than Serpents Read Online Free Page A

automatic rifles, rocket launchers, mortars, and the promise of a light howitzer, in exchange for 150 kilos of heroin. The exchange of weapons for drugs would accomplish two goals—intercept another shipment of heroin and trace the trail of arms.
    Most of all, David hoped to put a face to the boss of one of the largest drug and arms trafficking rings in Southeast Asia.
    Then maybe he could cut his hair, take a bath and get out of his sweaty duds and into his uniform, where he felt most comfortable.
    And he’d finally write back to Yanna, who by now probably wanted to strangle him. He’d never gone this long without corresponding and every day that passed without hearing from her felt a little like a part of him had died.
    Sorry, Yanna.
    Perhaps, however, this time-out from their daily e-mails and instant messages had told him one thing—how much she meant to him.
    He checked his watch. Kwan’s man was late. Which meant he’d have to take a bite of froggie.
    He lifted the amphibian to his mouth.
    “Lipley?”
    He heard his alias on the lips of a small, bowed man. “I’m Ripley,” he said.
    The Asian man—David placed him at fifty—nodded once and moved past him. David ditched the frog and followed, dodging shoppers, keeping the man in his sights. “Contact,” he said softly into his transmitter. But probably Chet had already seen that.
    They left the press and smells of the market and crossed the street into the shipyards. The container yard of Kaohsiung Harbor—the third largest in the world—had been an easy place to mask their shipment of Remington M-24 Sniper rifles, Colt M-16s and Commandos, and way too many H & K MP5s. The CIA had also thrown in Smith & Wesson .45 caliber pistols. David had watched from the roof of a warehouse earlier today as Chet checked the supply with the head of CIA in Taiwan after sweeping the area beforehand. He’d heard Bruce okay the transaction, and even reiterate the agency’s agreement—and policy—to disavow should things go south. Figured.
    Then David had cleared Chet to lock the container tight and leave, alone.
    He hadn’t heard from his partner until they met over an hour ago outside the market. Until Chet had told him about the frog.
    The moan of ships moving out into the South China Sea, the smell of seaweed and oil, and the sound of seagulls calling brought David back to his last trip to Russia, only eight months ago. After helping his best friend Roman escape from a Siberian gulag, and making sure his stubborn-as-a-Russian sister, Sarai, was safe, David had accompanied Yanna to a volleyball match in Vladivostok. And afterward, they’d walked down to the wharf to watch the lights of the ships glimmer against the black sea and listen to the water lap against the massive steel hulls. Her long mink-brown hair blowing in the cold wind, and that mysterious smile on her face had nearly made him take her in his arms.
    Nearly.
    But he’d been dodging that impulse, with success, for almost a decade. Well, all but once. Still, starting a relationship—the kind he wanted to finish—with Yanna could only lead to heartache. And not just because they lived on different sides of the ocean. But because they lived on different sides of eternity. For now. He’d never stop hoping that might change.
    “Wait here.” The little man stopped him with an outstretched hand, and David stood still, his heart thumping as he watched the man disappear behind a three-story stack of metal containers. From behind him, he heard footsteps. He turned and tried not to flinch as two of Kwan’s muscle materialized. They both looked like they’d done time in a Chinese prison—their noses set poorly, bodies wedged into ill-fitting suit pants and silk shirts. Homemade tattoos lined their forearms. He recognized silver Russian-made Makarov pistols in their grips and he kept his hands out from his pockets. “Where’s Kwan? I agreed to meet with Kwan.”
    “He wants a sample of the merchandise