Quickly realizing that resistance against a large force of armed law-enforcement agents was hopeless, Lo Man's security force meekly submitted individually and in groups. Numb with defeat, Lo Han leaned back in his chair and entered a series of codes into his satellite communication system and waited for a reply from Hong Kong.

A voice answered in Chinese. "You have reached Lotus II."

"This is Bamboo VI," said Lo Han. "Operation Orion has been compromised."

"Say again."

"Operation Orion is in the process of being closed down by American agents."

"This is not welcome news," replied the voice on the other end.

"I regret we could not have remained in business until Operation Iberville was completed."

"Were the prisoners terminated so they could not talk?"

"No, the raid was conducted with astonishing speed."

"Our chairman will be most displeased to hear of your failure."

"I accept all blame for my mismanagement."

"Can you make good your escape?"

"No, it is too late," said Lo Han solemnly.

"You cannot be arrested, Bamboo VI. You know that. Nor your subordinates. There can be no trail for the Americans to follow."

"Those who were aware of our association are dead. My security guards are merely mercenaries who were hired to do a job, nothing more. They are ignorant of who paid them."

"Then you are the only link," said the voice without inflection.

"I have lost face and must pay the price."

"This, then, is our final communication."

"I have one final act to perform," Lo Han said quietly.

"Do not fail," the voice demanded coldly.

"Good-bye, Lotus II."

"Good-bye, Bamboo VI."

Lo Han watched the monitors as they revealed a group of men rushing toward the mobile security vehicle. They were attacking the locked door when he removed a small nickel-plated revolver from the drawer of his desk. He placed the barrel inside his mouth pointing upward. His finger was tightening on the trigger when the first INS agent burst through the doorway. The blast stopped the agent dead in his tracks his gun leveled, a look of surprise in his eyes as Lo Han jerked back in his chair, then fell forward, head and shoulders falling on the desk as the revolver dropped from his hand onto the floor.

April 20, 2000 Hong Kong, China

QIN SHANG DID NOT HAVE THE APPEARANCE OF A CORRUPT and depraved sociopath who had indiscriminately murdered untold thousands of innocent people. He did not have serpent's fangs, vertical slit eyes, nor a forked tongue that flicked in and out. There was no aura of evil about him. Sitting at a desk in his palatial four-level penthouse atop the fifty-story mirrored tower of Qin Shang Maritime Limited, he looked no different than any other Chinese businessman working in the financial hub of Hong Kong. Like most mass murderers throughout history, Qin Shang went unobtrusive and unnoticed whenever he strolled down the street.