In The Company Of Snipers: Zack Part 6

"So what happened next?" Zack prodded gently.

Marty lifted the bowl to his mouth and slurped the last of the soup down before wiping his lips with the back of his hand. "Well, umm, let me think."

Zack waved the waitress over for another bowl. "You're still hungry, aren't you, Marty?"

The old fellow's eyes lit up. He dunked half of his sandwich in the next bowl of chowder and ate most of it before he continued his tale. "Well, ya see, I had a hold of her real careful like, cuz I weren't sure if she was hurt, you know what I mean? I grabs up a dirty blanket and I wraps it around her, and I was standing there wondering what the heck was I gonna do next. I mean, what's folks gonna say when they sees me with a tiny little thing like her? I'm just an old drunka n.o.body. Ain't no one gonna ever believe a guy like me."

Zack nodded encouragingly, but that seemed to pique Marty's indignation.

"Well, I'll tell ya what folks are gonna do. Them punks at the IGA don't like guys like me rummaging around the dumpsters. They likes to use us for slingshot practice when they catches us. Heck." Marty peeled his coat and shirtsleeve down, exposing two round black welts on his upper arm. "Look it here, will ya? One of them boys shot me. I don't figure it was a slingshot that time. Sounded more like some kinda gun, it did. They coulda kilt me. It coulda been me laying in that stinking dumpster."

Zack listened and waited. Marty needed to eat. He'd get to the rest of his story as soon as he remembered.

"So I says to myself, I says, Marty, ya gots to do what's right this time. Ya can't worry about yerself when there's a little girl what needs your help." He nodded in self-satisfaction. "Yep. That's what I said. I was standing there, and it was getting colder and colder, but I knew what I had to do. Yessirree. So I clumb outta the dumpster, holding the baby real careful over my shoulder so's I wouldn't b.u.mp her poor little noggin, and I walks right in through the front door of the IGA store, and you know what I said?"

Zack shook his head slightly. Marty had a determined glint in his eye.

"Well, let me tell you what I said." He tore off another mouthful of sandwich. "I walks up to the first checkstand and I says real loud, 'I needs help, and I needs it right now'." He thumped his fist to the table. "I did. Yes, I did. That's exactly what I said, and I'll tell you what. You coulda heard a pin drop in the place. Everyone was lookin' at me like I was crazy, only then my poor little baby doll starts moving and fussing, and everyone runs up to see what I found."

"And they helped you?"

Marty nodded. "You better believe they did. The next thing I know, the police are there and an ambulance too, and them doctor guys are taking real good care of my baby, and they got warm blankets, and-" His eyes misted. "And the poor little gal didn't even cry one peep when they stuck that needle thing in her arm."

A tear slipped over his whiskered face and fell onto his empty plate. "My poor baby girl," he sobbed, wiping his face. "She was too sick to cry even when them nice guys was hurting her."

"It's okay." Zack said. "You saved her life."

"Yeah." Marty ran a gnarled hand over his eyes before he stuffed the last of his sandwich into his mouth and started on his pumpkin pie. "That's what everyone was saying. The police came, and they was asking me where I found her, and they gave me a drive to the station, and they was all real nice to me that night. One of them officers even gave me his jacket, you know. Them really warm winter jackets with fur collars?"

"That's the least they could do." Zack noticed the old guy wasn't wearing the warm jacket anymore. The thin waffle weave plaid covering his shirt was definitely not police issue.

"The next night I went back to the store. You know what them mean boys did?" Marty wrangled one of his feet up far enough so Zack could see it. "They all pitched in and they bought me these here boots. Look it. Ain't they nice?"

"Yes, sir. They look real warm."

"They is. They really is. And they gave me a big bag of warm socks and something called protein bars. And they said I was their hero. I ain't never been called a hero before."

"Is there anything else you can think of? Did you understand anything the little girl said?" Zack asked patiently. He'd flagged the waitress for another slice of pie.

"Nah, that's all there was to it, know what I mean?" Marty stared off in a daze. "She was almost dead, poor little thing. Poor baby."

"You're a real good man. You did a great thing saving her like you did."

"I did, huh?"

Zack peered into the old man's humble eyes. "She's in a good foster home right now. Her name is Zhen Ting. It means 'precious treasure'. You found a precious treasure in the trash that night."

"Well, I'll be darned. Precious treasure, huh? Zhen Ting, did you say? That's a real pretty name for a pretty little tyke." Marty was lost again as he stared past the fork in his hand. "I really helped this one. Didn't I?"

"You sure did." Zack thumped his back gently. The old man didn't get much encouragement on the streets. A kind touch from a friend meant a lot.

"I remember something else, now you mention it. She had something in her little mitt." He dug down deep into his dirty shirt pocket and handed a small item to Zack.

Zack held it up to the light. It was an ordinary, black, four-holed b.u.t.ton. "She had this in her hand when you pulled her out of the trash?" He turned the b.u.t.ton over before he stuck it safe inside his own shirt pocket.

"Yeah. She looked like a little prizefighter with her hand all clenched up in a fist, kinda like she was ready ta punch me in the nose when I found her. Poor little squirt. Darn near forgot about it. Guess I shoulda gave it to the cops, I reckon, huh?" Marty looked expectantly into Zack's face. The soup was gone, along with the sandwiches and pie.

"You ready to get back to the shelter, my friend?" Zack asked.

"Not yet." Marty stared at Zack, waiting and hopeful. "I might meet up with some guys. They might need some help. You know how it is."

Marty sounded a lot like Jake, always working an angle if it meant there was the smallest possibility of a drink in his immediate future.

"Like I said, you're a good man. You ever need anything, and I mean anything, you give me a call, okay?" With that, Zack tucked a couple of bills into the old man's shirt pocket along with his business card. "Where's that nice warm coat the police gave you?"

"Ahh." Marty's eyes roamed around the diner while he patted his pocket. "I'm thinking it's around here somewhere. You know how it goes in my line of work."

Marty's line of work, as he put it, was a hard way to live. Who knew where the coat was by now? Hopefully, he'd spent at least one warm night in it. "You hang onto my card, and call me, okay?"

Marty nodded. "You bet I will."

Zack motioned for the waitress one last time, sliding a couple large bills across the counter to her. "Will you get my friend here another piece of pumpkin pie, ma'am? I'd be much obliged."

"Sure, mister. Pumpkin pie, coming right up." She beamed at the generous tip.

"Well, shucks now." Marty smiled a crooked grin, for the moment just a mischievous old man, up to no good and proud of it. "Ya didn't have to do all this."

Zack stood to leave. "It was my privilege, Marty. You're my friend and friends take care of each other. I'll be waiting to hear from you. You be sure and call."

Marty was already licking his lower lip like a kid at the Thanksgiving table as he pulled the fresh plate of pie toward him. Zack left him with a fork full of pumpkin and whipped cream in his mouth and a gleam of contentment in his eye. As the diner door clanged shut, he glanced back at the man who'd saved little Zhen Ting's life. Marty would be chasing after a bottle before the day was done, but for one night and to one little girl, he would always be a hero.

Zack shivered as he hit the remote to unlock his pricey ride. The sleek black horses reminded him once again that he had it all, while right behind him sat a man who had nothing. Hopefully, Marty would notice the almost brand new leather bomber jacket now hanging on the back of his chair. It might be a little large for the old fart, but Zack hoped he'd at least get one night's warmth out of it. A hero deserved a h.e.l.luva lot more.

NINE.

Mei searched online for The TEAM, looking for a way inside. Surely it listed job openings and maybe an online job application, at least something to get her inside the fancy building in Alexandria long enough to steal an ID badge, or whatever they used. The well-designed homepage flashed onto her screen in brilliant red, white, and blue.

The TEAM Covert Surveillance Owner and CEO Alexander B. Stewart Ex-Marine Corps Scout Sniper Symbols of every branch of the military lined the banner at the bottom of the screen. There was no 'about me' page, no links for further information, no tabs for FAQs, and no Facebook, Twitter, or other social network icons. Only two phone numbers, one east coast, the other on the west coast, graced the site. She groaned at what the lack of information undoubtedly meant. Alexander B. Stewart didn't need to advertise. His clients knew him. And he wasn't hiring.

Try as she might, she could not get past The TEAM's firewall either. Her hacking skills were weak at best, but one failed attempt after another made two things crystal clear. The business could afford an excellent computer programmer, and maybe it wasn't such a fly-by-night outfit after all. It had to be involved with counter-intelligence somehow. The design of their home page said as much. They were too good. Too secure.

"What am I going to do?" She pushed away from her kitchen table, angry at that Zack Lennox guy all over again. What did he have to worry about anyway, with his leather bomber jacket and Ray-Bans perched on top of his shaved head like some preppie college boy? He was another privileged kid whose parents probably paid his way; a guy who didn't have a clue when it came to what really mattered in life. The jerk.

But...he had rescued the third little girl. He'd risked his life to steal her away from those gangsters. As much as she wanted to dislike Agent Lennox, she couldn't. Not completely. Her feelings confused her. Why do I hate him? I was so rude. Why couldn't I at least have been polite?

The succinct information on the website tantalized. "You guys know something," Mei muttered to herself. "I know you do. You can get into the ME's office. You're rich. You'remen."

Hopelessness dragged its long black fingernails across her weary shoulder blades. Time was running out. She had to get into their office. It was just a matter of how.

Coffee brewing already? The familiar aroma energized as much as it concerned Zack. If Mr. Coffee was already on and brewing, that meant- "You got anything yet?"

That meant Alex had worked all night after a long cross-country flight. Barely at his desk, Zack turned to face his over-the-top, flaming type-A, and very hyper boss. Not a good way to start what already promised to be a busy day.

"Morning. Went back to the hospital yesterday to see how she's doing, and-"

"How is she?"

"She might be released today if-"

"You found her parents yet?"

Zack shook his head. "Not yet, but-"

"Where's David?"

Zack sighed. There was no sense talking. Alex had too much caffeine in his system to shut up long enough to listen.

"Here, Boss." Thank goodness David had come in early. "Mind if we meet in the Sit Room?"

Alex didn't answer, just turned on his heel and marched straight to the Situation Room.

"Watch out," Zack muttered out the side of his mouth. "He's already wired."

David nodded in agreement. "I called his house. Kelsey said he hasn't been home yet."

"Figures."

His hard-charging boss could be a pain in the a.s.s. How did his sweet wife put up with him? As quick as the conference door shut, Alex hit the floor running. As usual, he positioned himself across from them.

"Let's get something straight. My first concern is our little girl. She's our primary mission here. How is she?"

David took the lead, so Zack let him. Alex and he were the concept of yin and yang personified; one's calm balancing the other's lack of it. "Physically, she's okay. Her name is Chai Yenn. She's eating, and she's safe. The hospital released her late yesterday. She's at Child Services until they can place her with a foster family, which could be as early as today."

"But?" Alex leaned forward, his fingers drumming the tabletop.

"I know it's out of our control, Alex, it's just that-"

"She's not happy, huh?" Alex asked, his intensity more and more annoying. "You're right. It's out of our influence. What else?"

David took a measured breath and began again. "There have been two other Chinese girls found in the same area. One was pulled from a dumpster, the other drowned in the river."

"Where?"

"Near the Eleventh Street Bridge along the Anacostia Riverwalk Trail."

"Let me get this straight." Alex stilled. "Three, and they're all Chinese girls? How old?"

"We have two five- or six-year-olds in protective custodyChai Yenn and Zhen Ting. The child in the county morgue was maybe two."

Zack straightened his back. He recognized the look. The caffeine buzz was gone. The predator in Alex had just shown up for work.

"Those are babies," he hissed.

"Yes," David agreed. "Another thing. I checked with the Medical Examiner's office. All of these girls have been marked with a tattoo."

"A black dragon tattoo," Zack added.

"Where?"

David pointed to the backside of his bicep. "I researched that specific design. The tattoo signifies a child trafficking ring in Mainland China. Have you ever heard of Lenny Huang?"

Alex clenched his jaw. "I've heard of him. He runs the Black Dragon Syndicate. You're sure the tattoo is his mark?"

"Yes, but that's not all." David slid a CD across the table to Alex. "In my internet searches for Mr. Huang and his syndicate, I came across an online video game called Black Dragon Conquest. The object of the game is to smuggle children from various Chinese ports and then sell them to international locations around the world, including Washington D.C. and New York City. The younger the child, the greater the risk, and the higher the player's score."

Zack shook his head in disbelief. David had been busy.

"I walked through the game as far as I could," he said. "In fact, I've spent most of the night on it. The challenges include imaginary beasts, law enforcement demons, mazes, caves, and natural disasters." David swallowed hard. "The worst challenge is called the Monsters of all Monsters. The MOM. She's depicted as a terrible beast with five heads that eats the children alive if they escape. It's a graphic, b.l.o.o.d.y game."

"The b.a.s.t.a.r.d's set up a child trafficking ring right here in D.C.," Alex muttered, his voice hard. "Right here in my neighborhood."

"I still don't know what the color-coding means, but I found green and red dragons, too. If we've got three children with the black dragon tattoos, there are a lot more little girls in trouble."

"What do you think the colors mean?" Zack asked.

"I honestly don't know," David admitted grimly. "They might designate the country these girls came from, or where they're going. It might mean rating or pricing. I'm just guessing."

"The game may not be connected to Lenny Huang at all," Alex said.

Zack's gut clenched. No. Alex didn't believe it either. The game was no coincidence, not since they'd found the girls at the same time. His gut told him true. Alex was right the first time. A syndicate boss from a world away had opened a despicable business on the east coast.

"I need to decipher the game," David said. "Perhaps there are clues I'm not seeing. Can you spare Mother or Ember?"

"You bet," Alex said quickly. "Todd can help, too. He's sharp with computers."

Zack turned to Alex. "How do you know Lenny Huang? I don't recall any ops involving him before."

"Interpol sent a report on him just yesterday," Alex said. "He's ruthless and extremely powerful. They've been watching him for years. What do you have, Zack?"

Zack cringed. It was hard for an over-achiever like him to have hit so many dead ends, especially when David had found so much. He pulled the puny evidence bag from his pocket. "Not much. The old guy who found Zhen Ting gave this to me. Not sure it's worth anything. He said she had it in her fist when he pulled her out of the dumpster. Could be a piece of trash for all I know."