Deadly Lode (Trace Brandon Book 1) (41 page)

C
hapter
41

L
ei Chang sat in his lavish office on the fortieth floor of
one
of
the most historic old
b
ank building
s in Hong Kong
.
The b
uilding
had been
originally constructed in 1864
,
and
torn down and rebuilt several times
, with the last renovation completed
in 1985. At the time
,
it
had been
the most expensive building on earth
,
having cost around
$600 million U.S. dollars.

From his windows, Lei Chang had an unobstructed view of Victoria Harbor. A strict
adherer to the principles of
f
eng
s
hui,
he believed a view of water led to prosperity. So far he
’
d been right
.
Chang
also believed
his company
’
s investment in shares of
Montana Creek Mining
would
lead to
even greater
prosperity.

Under Chang
’
s orders,
U
RAN-
China
Nu
c
lear Corp
.
continued
acquiring shares of Montana Creek Mining. He knew the price for uranium ore w
ould continue to rise
,
and along with it the price of Montana Creek shares. Chang knew this because
his company was tying up enough
uranium
reserves
to manipulate the price
of uranium
.

Chang
looked at his computer screen and smiled at the closing price of MCM.V
.
Four dollars and ten cents. His investment in this little Canadian mining company had already generated healthy paper profits
,
with more to come
.

On the other side of the globe,
Trace
was also monitoring
the share price
.
Smiling, he flipped open his cell phone and called
Wally
.

“
Wally, Trace here
. G
ot a sec?
”

“
Sure
, Trace
. W
hat
’
s on your mind?
”

“
Toronto
is on my mind. I think it
’
s time for a road show
,
and the
Toronto Annual Mining Convention
is coming up. I think we should make a presentation and set up a booth.
”

“
Hell of a good idea, Trace. There will be twenty or thirty thousand attendees over the four
-
day event. Every prospector, miner, promoter
,
and investor who can get there
,
will be there.
”

“
I agree. It
’
s a hell of a forum. We can present to a lot of private
,
as well as institutional
,
investors.
It
’
ll g
et a lot of interest cranked up just about the time we list on the T
oronto Exchange.
”

“
Perfect. I
’
ll get us registered, get you signed up for a
PowerPoint
presentation
,
and
reserve a
booth.
”

“
I
’
d like you to go with me, if you can get away.
”

“
No worries
. Y
ou couldn
’
t keep me away with a
sharp
stick.
”

“
Okay, Wally, I
’
ll leave it to you. Would you mind
e-mailing
Jim Lee when you get confirmations
?
I
’
m sure he
’
s planning on attending
, b
ut we should give him a heads
-
up on our plans. He may want to participate in the presentation. After all, IUC owns twenty percent of our company.
”

“
I
’
m on it. I
’
ll send you the confirmation information
,
and I
’
ll book us some rooms in a nearby hotel.
”

“
Perfect. Thanks, Wally.
I
’
ll put out a news release when I get your confirmations.
Do you think the Chinese will make contact
at
the convention
?
”

“
The commies usually blow a bugle before they attack
,
”
Wally
said with a
laugh.
“
Stay frosty
. I
t could get real interesting.
”

C
hapter
4
2

M
alcolm was
anxious
to land in Houston and
stretch his legs.
He
’
d been flying most of the day
,
and it was getting near sundown.

“
Damn,
”
Malcolm said
aloud
as he massaged
the tops of his thighs
.
“
T
ime to land this puppy.
”

He contacted Houston Approach on 124.5.
Air traffic control
cleared him to land on runway 12
L
/32
R
. The wind was off the gulf from the
s
outheast. He
pushed
the
left
-
rudder
pedal
a tad
.
brought the plane to a heading of 120 degrees
,
and continued his descent. Cleared for final,
Malcolm
eased back on the throttle, lowered the
gear
,
and dropped the
flaps
to
full down
.
Three minutes later he touched down smoothly on the
asp
halt
runway.

Malcolm
taxied
the
plane
down
the south ramp
to
Houston
Flight Support
’
s
hang
ar
area
. He
parked the plane and killed the engine.
A
short
,
stocky
man
with a red goatee and a military
-
style haircut
watched
Malcolm
’
s
arrival from one of the nearby hangers.

Al
Pantelli
went outside
his usual bull
pen for th
e
second attempt
on Malcolm
. He wanted a non-Italian, non
-O
utfit
,
killer
with two very specific
skill sets
:
l
ocks and explosives. After a few phone calls, he
found
the
perfect mechanic.

The assassin
’
s
name was
Sean Flannigan
. He was Irish and
an expert with explosives and locks.
Flannigan
had
made his
reputation
blowing up British installations in Northern Ireland. He
’
d
worked his way up the chain of command in the Irish Republican Army
before
abruptly walk
ing
away
. Now
,
he
s
old
his services to the highest bidder
, irre
spective
of
his or her
political affiliation
s
. He was perfect
for the hit
. A
nd he was the man
who
watch
ed
Malcolm from the
empty
han
gar
.

C
hapter
4
3

M
alcolm went into
Houston Flight Support
’
s
office
,
paid his ramp fee
,
and arranged to have his plane fueled at
8:00
a.m. the following morning. He called a cab and headed to
a
nearby hotel
.
He wanted a shower
, a
steak
,
and about eight hours of sack time.

While Malcolm slept,
Flannigan
went to
work.
He
spotted
Houston Flight Support
’
s
swing
-
shift f
uel truck driver
.

“
Hey, bud, the office wanted me to double
-
check on fueling the
TurboAire
. Was it for seven or eight in the morning?
”

“
Eight sharp,
”
the driver answered.

“
Roger that,
”
Flannigan
replied
,
with a laugh.
“
Damned desk jockeys
. I
t
’
s amazing they can find their ass
es
with both hands.
”

The driver nodded and laughed
.
“
You got that right. See you in the morning.
”

Flannigan
made his way back to an empty hang
ar
and hid out until
4:00
a.m.
The shank of the night
,
and
the time to do evil deeds.
He
took one more look around. Satisfied the coast was clear, he
made his way to
Malcolm
’
s plane
.

An expert locks
mith
,
Flannigan
picked the
plane
’
s
door lock in less than thirty seconds.
There were a couple of duffel bags behind the co
-
pilot
’
s seat. He opened the bottom duffel and carefully inserted the explosive device. The bomb
was a simple timed device with a battery, electric cord
,
and primer. The prime
r
was inserted into a block of C-4 plastic explosive.
The whole mechanism
fit neatly in an empty
first
-
aid kit.
Flannigan
had
used similar devices many times
, with deadly results
.

Flannigan
set the timing device to go off at
10:00
a.m. Figuring twenty minutes to fuel
and
a
nother twenty minutes
for
pre
-
flight and takeoff
, t
he
TurboAire
would be about eighty minutes into its flight to Grand Cayman when the device
would
detonate
,
w
ell past the continental shelf and
the ubiquitous o
ffshore oil rigs
, and
over
the
abyssal deep of the G
ulf of Mexico.