Dragons Wild (2 page)

Griffen realized suddenly that he had been dead wrong, and felt like an idiot. Too many monster movies, not enough sense. This wasn’t a trap, it was an attempt to increase his uncle’s power. He could see the recruitment offer coming like a train down a tunnel, but doubted it would be anything like what he had been hoping for when he first entered the office building. Griffen felt like an absolute fool.

“Personally, I’m inclined to be one of those who take a wait-and-see attitude. If you want specific help and training, on the other hand, I’d need your reassurance and pledge that you would align with me and not use what I tell you against me.”

He leaned back in his chair and flashed a wide smile.

“So I guess the ball is really in your court, Griffen. Do you want to sign on with me here and now, or do you want to play it as an independent for a while?”

It was notably early in the day to drink, but Griffen figured he deserved one. Not that he needed one, mind you, but it would be welcome nonetheless. Besides, the ground-floor bar in Malcolm’s office building was irresistibly convenient.

Sliding onto a stool, he absently gave the bartender his order…Irish whiskey on the rocks (beer was so working class)…and settled down to think.

He had come to the meeting with such high expectations, and now it seemed he had to recalculate his entire future. Only one thing was sure. The cushy job he had hoped for with his uncle Malcolm was a bust. He had known all along that rich, successful people tended to be a bit odd, but his uncle, in the words of Raymond Chandler, was as crazy as three waltzing mice.

Dragons! Power blocs! Executions and assassinations!

If Griffen had owned any stock in any of his uncle’s corporations, he would be thinking seriously of dumping it. Of course, to date he had steered clear of such legalized gambling, preferring the kind when you got to see your opponent face-to-face.

The nerve of Malcolm! Never mind this dragon nonsense. From his own words, he left his own brother to hang for his own profit, and held out his hand to Griffen for the same reason. When he figured Griffen was the most vulnerable, dreading the thought of working and the real world. There was no way Griffen wanted part of a businessman, or business dragon, with those kind of priorities and those sort of tactics.

At least he wasn’t totally stranded. He had maybe $20-25,000 he had squirreled away between his poker winnings and what he had skimmed from his monthly allowance. That and his car, which ran most of the time. Originally he had figured on using the stash on his wardrobe and maybe to furnish a nice bachelor pad, but he could live on it for a while until he came up with a viable option.

Unfortunately, most options he could think of at the moment involved working, something he had managed to fastidiously avoid in his life to date.

Maybe Mai would have an idea.

Mai!

He suddenly remembered that he was supposed to meet her back at the hotel room with a report on how his meeting had gone. It wouldn’t do to keep her waiting too long. Mai was not a girl to be kept waiting.

They had been playmates and occasional lovers back in school, and when he had mentioned the meeting with his uncle to her, she had offered to tag along…a combination of moral support and a chance for her to do a little shopping. He had always known that he was more emotionally involved than she was. It was one of the things she found endearing about him, which would worry him if he let himself dwell too much on it. She never said much about her own background, but the way she went through money it was a cinch her family wasn’t exactly hurting. Not a bad person to consult with about his future. She might even provide a contact or two.

His mind invaribly came back to Uncle Malcolm. For the first time he wondered if it had all been some kind of complicated joke. Again, he hadn’t had all that much direct contact with the man, but from what he knew Malcolm was not the practical-joking kind. Something was very wrong. Griffen didn’t have a glimmer as to what was really going on.

Tossing a couple bills on the bar, Griffen finished the rest of his drink in one long swallow and eased off the stool. The confused young graduate left the building, feeling lost and more than a bit sorry for himself.

He tried to console himself that at least now he had a plan of sorts. Hook up with Mai and pick her mind a bit. Even if nothing came of it, they could enjoy a night on the town and he could attack the problem fresh in the morning.

Emerging into the daylight, he paused for a moment to squint up at the sky. There were a few clouds up there, but the temperature was pleasant enough. He’d go ahead and walk the five blocks back to the hotel. Taxis should be an avoidable luxury for a while until he settled his future finances.

“Mr. McCandles? Griffen McCandles?”

Blinking with surprise and from the sun, Griffen redirected his attention from the sky to the man who had addressed him.

Actually, there were two of them, though only one had spoken. They seemed ordinary enough, to a point where he probably wouldn’t have noticed them on the street if they hadn’t approached him. Viewing them now, however, there was a sameness in their stance and posture that suggested either military or police, regardless of their tailored suits.

“Yes? Can I help you?” he said, glancing back and forth between the two men.

For a moment, the characters from
Men in Black
flashed through his mind, but he shrugged the image off. If nothing else, their suits were gray, not black, and neither of them was wearing sunglasses. Apparently his discussion with his uncle had affected him more than he had realized.

“There’s someone who would like a few words with you, if you can spare a moment.”

The man speaking took a step backward and gestured toward a limousine that was standing at the curb. His partner took a step sideways, so that they effectively had Griffen bracketed, blocking his movement in either direction along the sidewalk.

Griffen glanced around quickly. None of the other pedestrians on the street seemed to take notice of what was going on. Perhaps such occurrences were normal in this town.

He decided nothing could be as strange as his uncle, but didn’t feel like getting in a stranger’s car. Unless this was how the CIA recruited, he really wanted nothing to do with them. He turned as if to push past the men, only to have a heavy hand with an iron grip fall on his shoulder.

“We really must insist, Mr. McCandles,” the man said, and squeezed with his hand.

Griffen fought back a yelp, this man was strong! So much for Uncle Malcolm’s comments about tough skin, Griffen felt like his shoulder socket was about to be ground to dust. Of course, he realized grudgingly, that had little to do with the skin.

With an offhand shrug, he tried to shake the hand off. Tried, and failed. The other man nodded pointedly to the limo, squeezed once more, then let him go with a little push. Straightening, Griffen tried to maintain some dignity, and walked over to the limo. As he did, the back door opened as if in greeting. Not breaking stride, he stepped into the air-conditioned interior and sank into the nearest seat.

“Mr. McCandles. So good of you to join me.” A warm, resonant voice came to him from the depths of the vehicle. “I don’t believe we’ve had the opportunity to talk before.”

Griffen was so surprised, he barely noticed the two suits entering behind him and closing the door before the limo eased into traffic. He wasn’t particularly up on news and politics, but one would have to live in a barrel not to recognize the man addressing him.

“Senator Langley,” he said, inclining his head in a polite nod. “An honor to meet you, sir.”

“Ah, so you know who I am.” The man beamed, flashing the smile that the newspapers and TV cameras loved.

“It would be hard not to, considering your distinguished career,” Griffen said. “I’m just a little surprised that you know who I am…or care, for that matter.”

“I’ve known your family for a long time.” The senator waved, negligently. “Congratulations on your graduation, by the way.”

“Thank you,” Griffen said. “So, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?”

“More curiosity than anything,” Langley said. “I heard you were meeting with your uncle today, and I just wanted to hear how the two of you got along.”

Griffen wasn’t sure which was more unbelievable. The idea that Senator Langley was aware of his movements, or the fact that he had been waiting outside his uncle’s office in a limo for an unspecified length of time to find out the results of his meeting.

“We got along well enough, I guess,” he said cautiously. “It’s the first time we’ve really sat and talked, you know. Of course, he didn’t need an ‘escort’ to get me to talk to him.”

“Yes, yes,” the senator said, leaning forward impatiently and ignoring the younger man’s dig. “What I want to know is whether or not you’ve signed on with him.”

This was getting just too bizarre. Griffen decided that he wanted to draw this discussion to a conclusion.

“No, I haven’t,” he said. “Frankly, I found Uncle Malcolm too unorthodox for my comfort.”

Langley sat back and stared at him.

“Unorthodox?” he echoed. Then a smile warmed his face. “Oh. I see. You mean about the dragons.”

Griffen frowned at him. Was the whole world going crazy?

“Yes. I guess that was it,” he managed. “And please don’t tell me that you’re one, too. I’ve heard enough about dragons for one day…if not for a lifetime.”

The senator blinked, obviously startled.

“Me? No. I’m not a dragon. Some of the principals I represent are, however. They’re very interested in…”

“Senator,” one of the bodyguards said.

Somehow he managed to crowd both an admonishment and a warning into the one word. Griffen made a hasty revision of his interpretation of the relationship between the senator and his two escorts.

“Well, the less said about that, the better,” the senator said hastily. “For both our goods.”

“Excuse me?” Griffen said, now totally confused.

“Nothing, nothing.” Langley smiled, regaining his composure. “So, you turned Mal down, eh?”

“Well, actually I told him I’d think about it,” Griffen said, “but I’ll admit I just can’t see us working together.”

“Only one to a hill, eh?” the senator said. “I guess that’s wise. Courageous to the point of being foolhardy, perhaps, but wise nonetheless. Well, I guess that answers my questions. Don’t want to take up any more of your time. I believe this is your hotel.”

The limo pulled smoothly over to the curb in front of Griffen’s hotel.

Griffen was starting to have a few questions of his own, but it was clear the discussion was at an end.

“Right. Well, it was great meeting you, sir,” he said, reaching for the door handle.

“Just one thing, Griffen…if I can call you that,” Langley said. “A friendly word of advice. Get used to hearing about dragons. They aren’t going to go away just because you don’t believe in them.”

It wasn’t until Griffen had almost reached the entrance of the hotel that it occurred to him that the senator had never asked where he was staying. He had already known.

Pausing, he glanced down the street in the direction the limo had gone.

It had stopped a half block away. The door opened and one of the “bodyguards” emerged to stand beside the vehicle. Though he carefully did not look at Griffen, his posture was unmistakable to one who knew how to read people. His pose was calculated, threatening, and quite possibly lethal. He held the pose for a moment, then stuck his head back into the limo, apparently conferring with someone inside. He straightened and stared directly at Griffen for a long moment, then reentered the vehicle, which then moved off.

Despite the day’s warmth, Griffen felt a sudden chill, as if he had just had a close call with an unseen, but no longer unknown danger.

Mai looked like a doll and ate like a cannibal.

Even though she was second-or third-generation American, her Asian ancestry apparently yielded strong enough genes that she could have walked into a role in
The Flower Drum Song
or maybe
The World of Suzie Wong
. She had that tiny, athletic physique one normally associates with gymnasts or dancers, and radiated enough energy to power an entire city block. Her dress and manner were pure American, though, and she exuded a rich, sophisticated aura that brought boutique clerks out of their comas and had any four-star restaurant head waiter snap to attention as if she were slumming royalty.

Griffen loved being with her, if for no other reason than her dominating presence meant that he could give his sincere naivety pose a rest. No one even looked at him when he was with her. More than that, he enjoyed her company. Even now, watching her demolish a whole lobster, he took pleasure in her boundless enthusiasm.

“What is it, lover?”

Her sudden question roused him from his reverie.

“Excuse me?” he said, caught off guard.

“You were looking at me with a funny expression,” she said. “Have I got something stuck on my nose again?”

“Not this time,” he said, smiling at the shared memory. “I was just trying to figure out how you can stuff so much food into such a small body and not gain any weight.”

“I’m a high-energy person and I burn off a lot of calories,” she replied, negligently waving a forkful of lobster. “You know, kinda like a hummingbird. If I don’t eat a couple times my weight every day, I shrivel up and die.”

“That must be it.” He smirked, watching the lobster disappear into the depths of her tiny mouth.

“You certainly aren’t eating much,” she said, prizing another morsel of lobster from its shell. “Anything bothering you?”

“Other than being unemployed with no immediate plans for the future, no,” he said with a grimace.

“I told you not to worry about that,” she scolded, swirling her prize in the cup of melted butter. “I’m sure Daddy can find something for you. He owns a bunch of companies and employs zillions of people. If he doesn’t have an opening for someone with your talents, he’s bound to know someone who does.”

“And what talents are those, pray tell?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he can set you up as a male prostitute for bored housewives,” she said, giving him a bawdy wink.

That got him to laugh out loud.

“All right. You win,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender. “It’s impossible to stay depressed around you. So tell me about your father. What’s he like, anyway?”

“Oh, he’s the typical Hong Kong businessman type,” she said, returning her attention to her meal. “Obsessed with finding new ways to make money. Still kinda old-fashioned in a stuffy sort of way, but he still knows how to have a good time. At least you don’t have to worry about him hassling you about being a dragon.”

Griffen froze, staring at her.

“Why did you say that?” he asked carefully.

“Well, isn’t that what you said was your problem with working for your crazy uncle?”

“No. What I said was that he had some weird notion that he was a half-human superbeing. I didn’t say anything about dragons.”

“Sure you did,” she insisted. “What’s more, he tried to convince you that you and your sister were dragons, too.”

“No,” Griffen insisted doggedly. “If anything, I’ve made a point of not using that word. It’s such a crazy notion I don’t even like to think about it.”

“So what?” Mai shrugged. “Maybe what you were describing sounded like a dragon and I just put a name to it. No big deal.”

“But why that particular word?” he pressed. “I mean, when I think of crazy people, I don’t automatically think of dragons. At least, I didn’t used to.”

“Look. We’re getting way off the subject,” Mai said firmly. “Let’s get this job thing settled right now.”

She tossed her napkin on the table and rose to her feet, fishing her cell phone from her shoulder bag.

“I’m going to duck outside, call Daddy, and explain the whole situation to him. He’ll come up with a job, and we’ll have something to celebrate instead of arguing about your loony uncle.”

Griffen started to stand politely, but she was already on her way, weaving her way majestically through the other tables. Settling into his seat once more, he stared morosely at his barely touched dinner.

What was wrong with him? He was letting this dragon thing bother him way too much. He had never really been that close to Uncle Malcolm. Why should his obsession with dragons matter one way or the other?

Still, he was sure that he hadn’t mentioned dragons to Mai when he told her about the meeting. The casual way she referenced it didn’t seem like a spur of the moment label she had just made up. How could she know about the whole dragon thing. Unless…

He shook his head as if trying to forget a bad dream.

He was doing it again. He didn’t really believe what his uncle had said for one minute. Did he? It was true that the senator’s apparent knowledge and belief had given him pause, but he didn’t believe it himself.

What was it Uncle Malcolm had said about the Eastern dragons? That they stayed apart from their European counterparts and their descendants, but were suspected to be secretly monitoring Western dragon activity?

Now that was really getting silly. The “Yellow Peril” thing went out with Fu Manchu. Besides, Mai was as American as he himself was.

He found himself staring at the half-finished lobster on her plate. Now that was really unusual. Once she started eating, Mai didn’t let anything interrupt her meal short of a nuclear attack…and even then she’d ask for a doggie bag. Yet when he started pressing her on the dragon thing…

Suddenly restless, Griffen stood up and went looking for his dining companion.

Before he could reach the door of the restaurant, however, he was intercepted by their waiter.

“May I help you, sir?”

Griffen was suddenly aware that it looked as if her were trying to duck out on the bill.

“No, everything is fine,” he said with a smile. “I was just checking to see how my date’s phone call was going is all.”

“Phone call?”

“Yes. She stepped outside to get better reception on her cell phone.”

The waiter frowned.

“Umm…I think there must be some mistaken communication here, sir,” he said hesitantly. “The young lady you were dining with has left. I was a bit surprised myself, since she didn’t seem ill or upset, but I saw her hail a cab just outside our door.”