The Noah Reid Action Thriller Series: Books 1-3 (plus special bonuses) Read online

  There was one day when I didn’t see the martial artists perform so I hurried over to the studio to see what had happened. I saw Master Wu, standing by himself, looking extremely distressed outside his martial arts school.

  We got to talking and within an hour, he had moved in with us. I didn’t understand why at the time and neither did my parents.

  None of us asked him what the problem was and that wasn’t really important. If you needed a helping hand, Mom and Dad always obliged. Some might think this was risky, but for the Reids, it was a situation only slightly more abnormal than breathing. I never slept in a room myself until I went to college in America. When he joined our household, Master Wu became one of my roommates.

  I loved having him around! Master Wu spent hours with me every day, making sure all my martial arts forms were perfect. His specialty was Hung Gar or Tiger and Crane. He made me do moves that imitated the animals all the time. We eventually moved on to other animals so I became an expert in the Five Animals of the Shaolin: Tiger. Snake. Crane. Leopard. Dragon.

  He also drilled me in Buddhist Scriptures and Chinese classics like Confucius’ Analects and Sun Tzu’s The Art of War. My Christian parents weren’t exactly thrilled about that but Master Wu insisted that being a martial artist was more than fightin. It was a spiritual discipline as well. I cared about that about as much as I did for my parents’ Bible indoctrination—not much. But when that goes on for year after year after year, something is bound to sink in. Or so goes the theory.

  Within a few years, Master Wu was back on his feet and had his own martial arts studio again, again close to where we lived. I spent more time there, than at home. About the only thing that kept me going home was my new buddy, Chad Huang, who had moved in with us too.

  At first, Chad and I hated each other. He tried to kill me over the stupidest of things. Basketball was his thing and he spent as much time on the basketball court as I did with martial arts. I told him he was never gonna be like his hero, Magic Johnson. Next thing I knew, I had a knife sticking out of my arm. Master Wu had to get Dr. Tang, the Chinese medicine man, to fix me up.

  Most parents would had Chad arrested or thrown into juvenile detention, but not mine. They found out that Chad was either orphaned or abandoned and living hand to mouth on the streets.

  “Someone’s got to show him the way,” said Dad. My folks made us make up and I was forced to take in Chad as my roommate. Another stray dog taken in by the Reids. That was tough. But eventually, we became best friends.

  Chad’s a people kind of guy and is the consummate do-gooder, always wanting to help out kids. I think that’s why Dad and Mom kept him around. They hoped he might influence me. Yeah, he did.

  And then, when I was eighteen, my world was rocked. I was out doing my daily stuff with Master Wu. When I returned home, I found my parents dead. They were stabbed to death by Xenos, a drug addict that my parents tried to rehabilitate. Xenos ransacked our place, trying to find where my parents kept cash and when he didn’t find any, he killed them, then committed suicide. If his brain weren’t so drug-addled, he would have realized that he couldn’t find any money because there was none to be had.

  That’s when I lost it. Up until then, I had never had a drink. Combination of tea-totalling parents who put the fear of God in me and a sifu who insisted on a no-alcohol regimen.

  I started drinking. A lot. A quart or more of cheap, strong Chinese alcohol a day. I wanted to kill as many brain cells as I could did… But it didn’t stop the pain. I mean, what kind of God allowed that to happen to someone as good as my parents? Not one that I wanted any part of. I was completely lost. If I weren’t the gutless wretch that I am, I would have killed myself too.

  Chad tried to help but he was also suffering. Mom and Dad were the only parents he knew. He had a different way of dealing with the bleakness. Much healthier than mine. He dove into the kids. One of the places he worked with asked him to stay and be a live-in counsellor. He said no, he wanted to be with me. Only because I blasted him for two hours did he change his mind. Bless his soul. Chad’s a much better guy than I’ll ever be.

  That was when Master Wu really stepped into my life. I moved into his studio. He became mother, father, confessor and nursemaid to me. I railed at him, puked all over his place, puked all over him, made an ass of myself in front of his students. I even tried to punch his lights out and I was sober at the time. That’s how stupid I was.

  The whole time, he was incredibly patient with me. Never chastised me, never got angry. The only thing that he was firm about was that I do martial arts routines with him for half an hour a day. I hated him for that but he gave me no choice.

  One thing that I discovered about Master Wu when I moved in was that he liked John Grisham books. He couldn’t read so he played audiobooks. They were always in the background. The Firm. The Pelican Brief. The Client and more. I got hooked and when I wasn’t drinking, I started reading more and finding out who this author was.

  John Grisham was a real lawyer who practiced for about ten years before he focused on writing. Even though he’s a busy author, he made time for philanthropic causes: teaching Sunday School, being the local Little League baseball commissioner and using his own dough to build baseball fields for kids.

  I thought, “Wow!” I know I’m no kind of writer, but if I became a lawyer, I could help Chad out with his work with kids through basketball.

  But that was like, pie in the sky. I thought it was hopeless. I was never that great a student. That was made worse because my parents were hard on marking me, not wanting to show favoritism. Plus, I was broke.

  But Master Wu insisted I try.

  “But I don’t have any money,” I protested. “And my marks are crappy.”

  “You are comparing yourself to others. You are special, Noah. Tell them you are a Grandmaster of Hung Gar. Let them know you are completely fluent and literate in English, Mandarin and Cantonese.”

  I retorted, “That and a million other applicants.”

  “For Hong Kong, yes. But that would make you unique in the United States.”

  For an illiterate old man, he made a lot of sense. It never occurred to me to apply abroad. Master Wu helped me, or rather he forced me to fill out applications for twenty universities in the United States. Those were the days before online applications were normal. We established a routine. I filled out the forms and Master Wu mailed them.

  Then the rejections started coming in. I was getting depressed but Master Wu kept saying, “You only need one place to say ‘yes.’”

  Well, weeks and months went by. It was the end of summer and with classes starting in a week, I realized it was hopeless… or so I thought. So much for being John Grisham.

  Then, I got a letter from the Northern Summit University, a small college that was a hundred miles from Los Angeles.

  Congratulations! You have been admitted to the Class of 2007 at Northern Summit University.

  The competition for admission was particularly rigorous this year, as our freshman class of 300 was carefully chosen from nearly 1000 applicants. For Northern Summit, we take pride in our commitment to diversity and commitment to service. We were impressed by your non-academic achievements and believe strongly in your potential for continued success.

  In assessing your need for financial assistance, we are pleased to offer you a full scholarship, contingent on successful completion of any course work you are currently pursuing, plus the teaching of three martial arts classes a week.

  Please reply with your acceptance at your earliest convenience or please advise us if your plans have changed…

  Crazy, huh?

  I arrived at Northern Summit University three days later. It was the first time I had ever traveled on an airplane.

  Big cities don’t impress me and I’m not a big movie guy so Universal Studios and Hollywood didn’t mean much to me. No, I was focused on becoming a lawyer and except for the martial arts classes, had my nose to the grindstone, taking ext
ra heavy load and summer school so that I finished a B.A. in three years instead of four.

  My grades were pretty good so I got into Northern Summit’s law school with a full scholarship, again under the proviso of teaching three martial arts classes a week. This was a really strange condition. No one I talked to had ever heard of a scholarship like that. It was almost as if this were created just for me but of course, that’s stupid.

  I went back to Hong Kong to visit Master Wu and Chad twice a year for the first few years. Master Wu used the time to whip me into shape with martial arts. With Chad, I shot hoops with whatever bunch of kid. But after awhile, I got busy and dropped the visits to once a year. I made a lot of friends in the US and some of us were even talking about opening our own firm or going to Silicon Valley.

  In my last year of law school, I decided to stay in Los Angeles over the winter holiday break. I didn’t know then that was the one time of year that everyone went home.

  I was by myself on Christmas Day eating fish and chips at the only restaurant that was open. As I put an extra large portion of tartare sauce on my piece of deep-fried fish, I got a phone call. I didn’t recognize the number but saw that it was from Hong Kong. “Hello. Who’s this?”

  “What do you mean, who’s this? It’s Chad, your brother from another mother. What’s the matter? You too good to give me a call.” That’s when it hit me. I was so wrapped up in myself that I didn’t pay attention to the email that told me he had a phone numbers. As we chatted for the next half hour, I realized I missed home. I was just like my great grandfather, my grandfather and father. I was white on the outside, but inside I’m Chinese.

  That did it. No more thought of staying in California. I was going back to Hong Kong. I made a few job inquiries. Well, actually, I applied to every firm I could in Hong Kong. Now, while I’m a millennial ane would have preferred to send a text or email, I was pretty sure that none of the dinosaur law firms would look kindly at an electronic message. So I made hard copies of all my letters, shipped them to Hong Kong and got Chad to mail them out.

  A month, two months went by. None of them were interested in me. What was wrong with them? I was white. I went to an American law school. I had great grades. I was fluent in English, Mandarin and Cantonese.

  When I bitched to my friends, they all commiserated with me. But truthfully, I knew the real reason. No one had ever heard of Northern Summit University or Northern Summit Law School.

  So I switched tactics and began applying to American firms. Rejected by every one. None of them had heard of Northern Summit either. Besides, I wasn’t an American citizen or resident. Even if they wanted to hire me, they’d have to go throught the hassle of getting me a work visa.

  Then, manna fell from heaven. I got a letter yesterday. It was sent via email and hard copy from one of Hong Kong’s most prestigious firms.

  A big Kahuna. Pittman Saunders. They liked that I was both East and West, that I was interested in the community, and that I spoke Chinese. I confirmed with a phone call right away. They wanted me to start as soon as I could after I graduated. I was to work under Garret Southam, their Senior Partner for the Asia Pacific. With a name like that, he’s probably a stuffed shirt. But I didn’t care.

  I was going home.

  Chad was stoked when I called and we booked a basketball game at the end of my first day on the job.

  Master Wu? I told him how worried I had been and how relieved I was. He congratulated me but he wasn’t surprised. “Why should I be, Noah?” Then he shocked me when he added something my parents would have said. “Who by worrying can add a single hour to his life?”

  I invited him to come to my graduation but I know he hates airplanes and it was so last minute. It would be nice for me to see him, though.

  So that’s it. I hope I haven’t bored you with my story. If you are, blame Wesley Lowe. He’s the one who made me do it.

  Gotta go now to put on my cap and gown. In two hours, I’m going to walk across the stage to pick up my diploma.

  THE END Now Noah’s adventures really begin.

  BETRAYED

  A Noah Reid Action Thriller

  If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles.

  SUN TZU, art of war, c. 500 BC

  Who among the gods is like you, Lord? Who is like you—majestic in holiness, awesome in glory, working wonders?

  MOSES, Exodus, c. 1450 BC

  Prologue

  Los Angeles

  Twenty-eight-year-old Noah Reid stood in the wings of the Henry Wilson Hall’s stage, waiting for his name to be called. Even though he was decked out in loose-fitting academic graduation regalia, it was hard not to notice his lithe, athletic build and his Ryan Gosling-like charming good looks.

  Noah’s eyes searched among the eight hundred seated faces in the audience, wondering whether a special person would show up. He started at the back of the auditorium and patiently worked his way toward the front. There he was! Sifu Wu was seated in the eighth row in seat eight. Noah chuckled to himself. I should have figured that out. Typical Chinese. Lucky number eight.

  Dressed differently than everyone else in the room, Wu appeared every bit the grandmaster of Hung Gar martial arts that he was. He wore a loose-fitting navy blue traditional uniform: pure satin trousers and a jacket with his Chinese surname embroidered in a small, single gold letter over his heart. Definitely not Hollywood, he much more resembled Bruce Lee’s mentor, Ip Man, than the Karate Kid’s Mr. Miyagi.

  Although Master Wu wore his usual stoic face, Noah thought he detected a hint of pride sneaking through. That would be perfectly understandable. The two of them had been there for each other’s best... and worst times.

  When Noah was four, his missionary family lived in Hong Kong in a vibrant, diverse neighborhood not too far from Master Wu’s studio. The young Noah loved seeing Master Wu and his disciples’ feats of martial arts virtuosity: leaping higher than a house, crushing boards with their hands and moves that were elegant, poetic... and dangerous.

  One day, Noah saw the sifu standing despondent outside his facility. Noah didn’t understand the bankruptcy that three of Wu’s errant students caused but he did know that the master needed help.

  Noah’s parents happily agreed to let Master Wu live with the family—having guests who needed a hand was altogether natural. That was the beginning of the beginning. For years, Master Wu personally trained Noah in martial arts. Eventually, when Wu was back on his feet with another studio, the martial arts training regimen continued.

  But the relationship was not simply that of obedient student and master of physical arts. Master Wu taught Noah about the “Dao,” or the “Way,” the ancient Chinese philosophical view of living in harmony with the sources, patterns and substances of everything that existed.

  Noah’s upbringing was unusual and special. Between his parents George and Sarah Reid’s Christian teaching and Master Wu’s instruction, Noah was equally at home with Eastern mysticism and evangelical Christianity. As the child of native English speakers immersed in Asian culture, Noah spoke and was completely literate in English, Mandarin and Cantonese.

  Noah’s fingers drummed his thighs as he recalled the family tragedy of nine years ago. A drug addict who was staying with Noah’s family needed a fix. Xenos was sure there was cash stashed somewhere and ransacked the home searching for it. When he discovered nothing, the drug-addled young man stabbed George and Sarah to death before committing suicide.

  When Noah made the gruesome discovery, he sank into despair, drowning himself in alcohol. Without Master Wu’s patience, prodding and understanding, Noah too might have fallen permanently off the rails.

  While nurturing him back to wellness over a year, Master Wu encouraged the poverty-stricken Noah to explore every avenue to finance his dream of going to an American school and getting a law degree. Noah felt it was hopeless but went through the motions. It was unbelievable to Noah that he received a ‘special scholarship�
� with the proviso that he also teach three martial arts classes a week. The Northern Summit Law School was not Harvard but it did provide a decent basic legal education.

  “Noah Reid.” The voice of the president of the Northern Summit Law School brought Noah back to reality.

  Noah proudly stepped forward, received his diploma and shook the president’s hand.

  “Congratulations, Noah. Now life begins.”

  Although the president would likely say that three hundred times that day, Noah felt this was true. Life would begin today.

  “Didn’t think you’d make it. Thought you hated airplanes,” joked Noah to Master Wu at the garden reception.

  “That was my first time and going back will be my last. I head back to the airport in fifteen minutes.”

  “Don’t you want to see Hollywood? Or the La Brea Tar Pits? Or Knott’s Berry Farm? Or the Getty Museum?”

  “I came here to see you graduate and now that I have confirmed that you actually did, I have no other reason to be here.”

  “I’ll go with you to the airport. Give me a few minutes to say goodbye.”

  “Noah, stay and celebrate with your friends. They’re your family, too.”

  Noah knew better than to argue with his sifu—he would never win. “See you back in Hong Kong then.”

  Young man and old bowed deeply to each other. Noah returned to the reception while Master Wu walked to the entrance.

  Enjoy yourself while you can, Noah, because the day I have been preparing you for is coming soon.

  Chapter 1

  Hong Kong

  Three non-stop days of partying later, Noah bounced up and down in a wide-body Boeing 747 airliner. He drank so much that he was oblivious to the turbulence in the darkened passenger cabin.