A Stacked Deck

by S. H. Linden

part 9 of 10

A large British bank hires a mercenary to change world events in Southeast Asia.

The Polo Field

In the center of the polo field, eight players were mounted on excited polo ponies and were ready to play. Faust and the prime minister were doing their best to blend in with the other players, who were engaged in small talk. A referee and two linesmen on horseback looked over the teams. A nervous polo pony stood on its hind legs, and the rider had a hard time getting the horse under control.

“Remember, gentlemen, this is a friendly match for a noble charity. Let the best team win,” the referee said. He threw the ball into play and the game was on.

Horses bumped together as players scrambled to get the ball. The prime minister came away with the ball and hit a long one down field. The players took off after the ball, and the sounds of thundering hoofs reached the polo field stands.

“Well played prime minister,” the Governor General said, when he stood up clapping his hands. The polo players rode by a placard along the other side of the field. It had an advertisement: TRUST YOUR MONEY WITH BOFAD.” There were also ad cards for: Cathay Pacific Airlines, Rolex watches, Cartier and Dom Perignon champagne.

At the BOFAD tent the employees were drinking champagne. Sir Brian Rawson, Lord Rivington, General Dashman, Sheik Baraka and Ticky were standing and applauding as the prime minister rode by on a charging polo pony.

Back at the governor general’s box, the French Consul was caught up in what was happening at the BOFAD tent. “It looks like they are having a good time over there.”

His friend, the German Consul, was caught up in the match. “Boot: Look at that! These players do not like each other.”

On the field, Faust’s horse bumped another player’s horse, again and again, chasing the ball down field. Then the other player sent his horse into Faust’s horse and it staggered for a moment, then recovered. Faust dug in and caught up with the group. He worked his way closer to the prime minister’s horse when suddenly he was blocked hard by an opposing player. The crowd went “ooohhh.” The referee blew his whistle.

“Watch the unnecessary bumping. Play on. Blue has the line.” The referee threw the ball back in play.

Faust, on the white jersey team, got the ball out of a melee of horses and started a run upfield. The prime minister approached Faust from an angle and caught him. He extended his mallet to block Faust from making contact with the ball. The prime minister was happy with the play, and Faust acknowledged with a salute.

A blue team member picked up the ball and hit a long shot toward the goal and scored. The crowd cheered. The Rolex Scoreboard read: Blue 1, White 0.

The players assembled at mid-field. The horses were now hard to control from nervous excitement.

In an upper stadium hallway, Janeway and Nino were checking for an empty room. They finally found one and stepped inside and locked the door. Putting their sport bags on a table, they put on rubber surgical gloves and began assembling rifles with long clips, screwing on silencers, and adjusting sniper scopes. They were men that knew the tools of their trade.

Both men laid two extra rifles on the table that had long clips and began scanning the field with rifles that had sniper scopes.

Through the crosshairs of the scope, Nino could see the prime minister, then Faust. He also saw the horses bumping each other, then the scope was back on Faust. Now the prime minister came into view. He was racing forward and hitting the ball toward the

goal. The placard: TRUST YOUR MONEY WITH BOFAD came into view.

The crowd was cheering loudly.

At the BOFAD tent, a hand was seen butting out a cigarette, then nervously touching a pack of mints. Janeway raised his rifle up a bit and saw Ticky, who seemed to be listening to something that Lord Rivington was saying.

“It’s a pity that Elton Green couldn’t join us.”

Ticky nodded his head and reached for a drink. “Yes, very unfortunate. It was nice of him to give me his ticket.”

“Have you known Elton long?”

“We did some business together while he was a Senator,” Ticky said.

“I see... “

Ticky seemed nervous as he looked around the polo field. “With all these security men around, this seems to be the safest place in Hong Kong,” Ticky remarked as he popped another mint into his mouth.

There was more cheering. A goal had been scored.

“Ta-ta. The Prime Minister has scored another goal,” Lord Rivington said.

The crosshairs of Janeway’s scope showed Lord Rivington’s head as he moved about, then it showed Ticky’s body. Janeway steadied the rifle against a post. Nino was watching Faust hit a long ball down the field.

General Dashman, Sheik Baraka and Sir Brian joined a group of ladies watching the polo match. They were laughing and having fun. Then the American Consul General, Stan Bellman, joined them.

“Ah... Here’s your Consul General!” Lord Rivington said. Ticky took a quick look and reached for the box of mints. Lord Rivington moved away from Ticky and joined the BOFAD group.

A muflled sound from a rifle with a silencer went off, and a small red blot appeared on Ticky’s shirt right at the heart just as he was popping a mint into his mouth. Ticky slumped sideways as if he had fallen asleep.

The BOFAD crowd greeted the U.S. Consul as if nothing happened. They gave the Consul a glass of champagne and began talking among themselves. Everyone seemed happy except Ticky, who was dead in his chair and no one noticing it.

“Jesus! I just shot Ticky! That dumb blimp, Rivington moved!” Janeway said, half laughing. Nino put down his rifle and stared at Janeway in disbelief. Then a slow smile crossed his face.

Nino raised his rifle and pointed it at the BOFAD tent. While the group was watching the action on the polo field, Nino took two quick shots that were muflled by his silencer. Sheik Baraka and General Dashman sank to the grass without a sound or anyone noticing.

“You’re going for Faust’s money, is that it?” Janeway asked.

Nino nodded ‘yes’.

“Well that bastard better pay us,” Janeway said, still smiling, but still irritated that he had missed Lord Rivington.

Back on the field the prime minister and Faust were still bumping each other hard. They both thundered down field on their charging polo ponies. The prime minister reached with his mallet and tripped Faust’s horse, which stumbled, then recovered but came up lame.

Faust gave the prime minister a hard look, then headed for Mai Ling to change horses. He swung off the horse and grabbed the special whip with the poison needles out of the case. He swung back up in the saddle again and looked down at Mai Ling.

“I want you to get the hell out of here or you’re going to get hurt!”

Their eyes fixed for a moment, then Faust broke away. Mai Ling grabbed Faust’s boot and clung hard, trying to prevent him from going out in the field again. “Don’t do it! Don’t do it! Look around you, it’s full of police and security men!” Mai Ling shouted.

“Let go, Mai Ling or I’ll run you over! The deal has been cut!”

“You’ll die for this stupid gesture!” Mai Ling said with tears and anger.

Faust looked down one more time at Mai Ling, then dug his heels into the horse’s side and charged off.

“I love you, Faust,” Mai Ling said softly.

Faust charged after the prime minister and the rest of the players. The ball landed close to a group of players who came charging after it. It was a mad scramble between the blue and white team. Faust and the prime minister tangled mallets. Faust raised the poisoned whip just as the prime minister gave Faust a winning smile of respect for his playing.

The whip hesitated for a moment close to the prime minister’s face, then angrily Faust threw the whip to the ground. He couldn’t kill this innocent man who thought he was just a friendly competitor.

Suddenly the sounds of three quick THUD, THUD, THUD’s could be heard from Nino and Janeway’s rifles. Red blotches appeared on three of the polo ponies. They fell hard to the ground, kicking wildly at the air. Other horses panicked and ran off in different directions. Faust was stunned for a moment, then quickly grabbed the prime minister and pulled him off his horse. They fell hard to the ground.

“Stay down! Stay down!” Faust said to the prime minister, and covered the PM’s body with his own. “Someone is trying to kill us!”

“It must be Faust! I’ve been warned!”

A hush came over the stadium crowd. Security men and doctors leaped over the fence and raced to the prime minister who was sprawled on the field and with Faust still on top of him.

Nino unscrewed the silencer from his rifle and opened up in rapid fire at the men running toward Faust. He was aiming at their feet, pinning them down and sending them back to safety behind the barriers. Janeway did the same. It was an automatic gesture: in a fire fight you went all out to help a buddy. You sprayed bullets everywhere, keeping the enemy back or forcing him to duck for cover.

“That bastard better pay us,” Janeway kept saying over the loud gun fire, as he emptied his clip at another charge of running security men. Bullets were slamming at their feet, or only inches away from them. None of the security men had the courage to continue running towards the prime minister.

The gunfire was loud and sounded murderous to the stadium crowd. The playing field and the stadium were in total chaos now. People were either lying down or running for exits.

Faust was stunned for a brief moment as he watched the security policemen fall to the ground on the playing field or ducking for cover behind the bodies of fallen comrades. He could see people in the stadium standing and looking scared, or running for exits. They had realized something terrible was happening, but they didn’t know where to run, so they took off in every direction.

In a crouching position, Faust quickly scanned the polo stadium searching for where the gunfire was coming from. Finally he saw Nino who was now standing in clear view. Their eyes met, and Nino gave Faust a “thumbs up” sign, while Janeway was pinning down the security forces with his deadly fire. Faust quickly saluted Nino, jumped back on his polo pony and raced for the sidelines.

A British security guard spotted Faust heading for the sidelines and shouted. “That’s the player who pulled the prime minister down! He’s got to be Faust! Shoot him!” Guards opened fire on Faust. His horse fell hard to the ground and started kicking wildly. The stinging pain from the bullets had crazed the horse.

Faust hit the ground on a roll but was quickly up, running in a zigzag fashion toward a fence which he vaulted, as heavy gun fire was aimed his way. A bullet nicked Faust’s lower rib cage, but he continued to run through the thick crowd of screaming and running polo watchers who were heading toward the street in panic. He pushed people out of the way. Some went flying to the ground. Then Faust seemed to disappear among the waiting cars.

Loud gunfire was still emanating from the small press box. Janeway and Nino were carefully pinning down the security guards and the Hong Kong police, who were ducking and dropping from sight as soon as another barrage of bullets headed their way.

“Let’s get the hell out of here! He’s gone!” Janeway said.

Both men quickly put all their weapons into the sport bags and tossed in their rubber surgical gloves. They tossed the bags out onto the stadium bleachers, opened the door of the room, and ran quickly towards an exit, blending into the running stadium crowd.

The rest of the group around the BOFAD tent, made a mad scramble for safety. The panic was still on in the polo stadium. British security men were hiding behind the barriers, hesitant to show themselves. It was a fear of not knowing if there were other men in other positions ready to open fire on them.

The silence lasted only for a brief moment. From a loud speaker attached to a phone pole, the announcer was still shouting: “Stay down, everybody! Stay down! You won’t be hurt if you stay down!”

In the confusion and pandemonium, security men finally reached the prime minister, who looked dazed and confused. They surrounded the prime minister and half carried, half dragged him off the field to the dressing rooms.

Newspaper reporters and K.C. Lung and his entourage were arguing with British security guards. They were trying to enter the dressing rooms but a security man wouldn’t let them in.

“This is an urgent matter of state! Is the prime minister all right?” K.C. Lung asked, shaking with fear.

At the BOFAD pavilion tent, Lord Rivington, shaken by the horrifying scenes and seeing Sheik Baraka and General Dashman laying on the ground, took one last slurp of champagne before leaving.

“How can you drink at a time like this?” Sir Brian said, in anger.

Lord Rivington began waddling to the Daimler as fast as he could. “This was a disaster! Thank God there was no television!”

“Who was the idiot shooting at us?” Sir Brian asked.

“I have no idea! The whole thing is confusing... I must be dreaming.”

“You’re not dreaming, Rivington. Get a grip on yourself. This thing could tum into a fiasco if the prime minister isn’t dead.”

From the Daimler’s window, Sir Brian and Lord Rivington could see people still running out of the stadium. Police cars were racing to the scene with sirens blaring.

“We should clear out of Hong Kong for a while. There’s going to be a lot of snooping around,” Sir Brian said, as he watched a man in the street get hit by a police car.

“I agree.”

“I’ll take the yacht to New Zealand. If Lankford’s dead, wonderful... If he hangs on...? I’ll have to think about it. Want to join me?”

“I don’t think so. I should stay here and look concerned. If he dies, I’ll go back with Lankford. It would be the proper thing to do. If he lives, I’ll retire and go back to my estate.”

“I think we’re safe, Sir Brian said. “No one can put a finger on us that we hired Faust.” The two men looked at each other and wheels started turning in their heads.

“What about George Chang? Let’s leave him here to deal with the police?”

“Why not? He’s eager to serve,” Lord Rivington said, sounding relieved.

* * *

Proceed to part 10...