Free The Last Phoenix by Richard Herman

Marine guard shouted. “On the ground!Spread-eagle!” His automatic was out and leveled directly at Kamigami. Tel fell to the ground. He was amazed that Kamigami was already down and spread-eagle. He looked at Kamigami in confusion.
    “I guess they remember me,” Kamigami allowed.
     
    “Gentlemen,” the Marine guard said, “the Ambassador.” He stepped aside as Winslow James minced into the basement room of the embassy. He nodded at the two CIA agents, William Mears and Charles Robertson, and surveyed the weapons and other items spread around the room. “Well, well, what do we have here?”
    “Sir,” Mears said, “this is Victor Kamigami.” He read from his clipboard. “Twenty-four years in the U.S. Army, all of it in the Rangers and special operations. Reached the rank of command sergeant major before deserting and fighting as a mercenary for Zou Rong in southern China in…ah, 1996. After that he went into hiding on the east coast near…”
    “Near Kemasik,” Kamigami said. “Terengganu Province. Mr. Ambassador, may I present Tel Zaidan? He and I were the only survivors when our kampong was destroyed.”
    Winslow James nodded in gracious acceptance, always the polished diplomat. “I am pleased to meet you, Mr. Zaidan.” A concerned look spread across his face. “I must apologize, for I haven’t heard of the tragedy that befell your village.” Mears and Robertson exchanged glances. It had been included in the daily intelligence summary that was placed on the ambassador’s desk every morning. The ambassador looked at the two CIA agents, effectively dismissing Kamigami and Tel. “I take it that you know Mr. Kamigami?”
    “We’ve met,” Robertson, the junior CIA agent, said. Robertson instinctively felt the scar on his neck, the result of their first meeting when Kamigami had jabbed his fingers into Robertson’s neck and crushed his larynx. Only the quick action of May May, Kamigami’s wife, had saved him from suffocating.
    Kamigami couldn’t help himself. “The last time we saweach other, Chuck and Bill were hanging around in Singapore.” The two CIA agents had been transporting Kamigami to Singapore for extradition to the States when he escaped. In the process Kamigami had handcuffed them together and left them dangling from a bridge railing.
    “I see,” James said, not understanding at all. “And what do we have here?”
    “We took these off soldiers in the National Park,” Kamigami said. “They were operating out of a large base camp and were from the same group that destroyed our kampong.”
    “Do we know anything about this so-called base camp?” James asked. No answer from the CIA agents. James rummaged through the uniforms, ID tags, and papers on the table. He glanced at the weapons stacked against the wall. “It appears they were well armed.” He picked up a pair of boots and examined them.
    “They were Chinese regulars,” Kamigami said.
    James’s reaction was immediate. “Because they were wearing these? Nonsense.” He turned for the door. “Please dispose of this,” he told Mears. Then he was gone.
    Mears and Robertson stared at each other. They would never admit to an outsider that the ambassador refused to believe anything that ran counter to current State Department policy with regard to Malaysia. “The official position is that we’re seeing an indigenous political faction of farmers dissatisfied with the current regime,” Mears said.
    “If that’s dissatisfaction,” Kamigami said, “you don’t want to be around when they get angry.”
    Mears took a deep breath. “You better tell us everything you know.” He listened while Kamigami detailed all he had learned. A heavy silence came down in the room. “This is not a disgruntled bunch of farmers,” Mears finally said. He made a decision. “You need to talk to Gus.”
    Robertson moaned. “Ah, no. Give me a break, Bill.”
    Singapore
    Thursday, August 5
    The white Bronco with Malay license plates drove