The Spy Devils by Joe Goldberg (top rated books of all time .TXT) 📕

the silver Audi stopped at a corner of the Taiwan National Police Agency building's rectangular inner courtyard. The tan buildings with red tile roofs occupied an entire city block of downtown Taipei. Rows of manicured trees surrounding crammed small parking lots and full-sized basketball courts were perfectly spaced around the perimeter.

Li Chu was not concerned about getting access to the highly restricted area.

He did have a concern about his appearance. He painfully replaced the bloodied bandages that covered his ruined ear with smaller, darker dressings. Makeup covered some of the bruises, but if someone approached him and asked, he planned to break their neck.

He had the power of the Ministry of State Security at his disposal. The MSS had long ago penetrated all levels of the government of Chinese Taipei. A call from his superior, Minister Chen, to one of the dozens of Taiwanese government officials on the MSS payroll cleared his path of guards and security systems.

The day after his two captured Dragon Fire men disappeared at the hands of the Spy Devils, they reappeared, as he dreaded, taped and drugged in an SUV in the center of Taipei. It was a public spectacle carried live on television and sent out on the internet, just like his previous encounters with the Spy Devils. It was an operational public shaming disaster.

So, he was forced once more to limit the damage.

Wearing a National Police Assistant Director-General's dress uniform, Li Chu moved with the smug arrogance of certitude befitting a high-ranking officer. Bands of gold braid above the symbol of a golden bird decorated a hat balanced just above his head wounds. The shirt was gray. The tie was blue. Four gold buttons ran up his jacket. A large square of blue, red, and yellow service ribbons dominated the left breast pocket. On his lapels, gold emblems signified his superior rank.

Late working staff crisscrossed the courtyard, but no one noticed or challenged him.

Li Chu was average height for a Chinese male at about five feet six inches tall. His hair was straight and trimmed close in the manner of a military officer. No facial hair. Dark eyes. Flat face. Small nose. Wide cheekbones. The stockiness, lighter skin, and thinner eyes of tens of millions of Chinese. He could blend in anywhere.

He moved under the green trees toward the secluded corner of the yard, where a light on the building ahead illuminated steps leading down to an unmarked security door. He descended the steps, reached for the handle, and pulled it open. As expected, it was unlocked.

It made a metal-on-metal screech as he swung it open and entered onto the landing of a concrete stairwell. The air was heavy with the mixed scent of age and fresh paint. Orienting himself through the dim yellow glow given off by the single light by the door, he saw five flights of stairs going up and at least five more going down. He went down.

At the bottom, he came to another security door. It was also unlocked. He opened it—this time silently—and stepped into the end of a long white-and-gray corridor that echoed with the hum of machinery. The hall felt like a fumigated icebox compared to the cool of the stairs. Caged industrial lighting dotted the ceiling. Dozens of closed steel doors were on both sides, spaced every ten feet.

Li Chu saw a guardroom and security cameras fixed above the guardroom door pointing in his direction on the far end of the hall. The room, normally occupied by three heavily armed National Police officers, was empty. The cameras were turned off.

His steps clicked off the concrete walls like a metronome. The sounds kept rhythm with his slightly elevated pulse. At the bottom of his tense stomach was the faint churning of acid like he hadn’t eaten in a week. Despite his steady temperament and tendency to demand perfection, he refused to be viewed as a robotic killer following chronically under-qualified and corrupt Chinese leadership orders.

He was a professional.

It had been three years since his Colonel summoned Captain Zhen Jingping to his office for the brief meeting that would change the purpose of his life. He worked in the Second Department of the PLA General Staff Headquarters, the Military Intelligence Department, the MID. When Captain Zhen entered the office, his Colonel left, closing the door behind him. Zhen stood rigid at attention in front of a man sitting at the Colonel’s desk.

“I am Deputy Minister Chen,” he announced. “Your superiors have nominated you to lead a special assignment for the Ministry.”

“I am gratified by their confidence.” Zhen kept his eyes focused on the wall above the man’s head.

“As a result of the new National Intelligence Law, an initiative has been approved by the Standing Committee of the State Council for the creation, by the Ministry of State Security, of a capability to exert our foreign policy in a more strategic fashion.”

“I am glad to hear that, sir,” Zhen kept his breathing steady.

“It will be designated Bureau X within the Ministry of State Security. Only a select number of the highest officials of the government know of the existence of Bureau X,” Chen started cryptically. “You are interested?”

“Interested, sir?

“In creating and leading Bureau X,” Chen said as if it was obvious what he was asking.

“Yes, Minister,” Zhen said sharply.

“Then you are reassigned.”

“Thank you.”

Chen stood and moved in front of the man. He gave the soldier a close examination.

“You are to assemble the most qualified officers to track and remove individuals overseas who stand in opposition to our policies. They should be eliminated with no attribution to the Mainland. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

After the meeting with the mysterious Deputy Minister Chen, Captain Zhen Jinping of the PLA vanished. He became Li Chu, the leader of a new covert assassination team approved at the highest levels of the government. Bureau X was born.

Bureau X went operational six months later, adopting the codename Dragon Fire. Li Chu implemented a kidnap and kill strategy. Death would appear as accidental—a