Seal Of The Realm

Flash Fiction by Frank Sonderborg

Lingo was back in Almeria Spain. Back to Mojacar Pueblo. A beautiful Spanish village hugging the side of a mountain. He sat drinking his black coffee and enjoyed both the view and the warm October sunshine. The Chinese had once again sent him chasing his tail. Rumours of a lost treasure, that was up for grabs. The fabled Heirloom Seal of the Realm.

Carved, they said, from mystical Heshibi Jade. The seal bore the inscription “Having received the Mandate from Heaven, may the emperor lead a long and prosperous life.”

It still had deep cultural significance in modern China; its great value was its symbolic representation of power.

Whoever possessed the Mandate of Heaven had a direct link to the authoritarian legacy of China’s first emperor.

This last bit was self-evident, even to Lingo. His employers, The Red Dragon Application company. Offices in London, but in reality, run by the Ministry of State Security, out of Beijing.

They believed it was all just a scam. So, they sent in Griff Lingo, Private Eye, and their top gweilo or ghost person. Better known in the PI trade as Mr Expendable, if it all went tits up.

Lingo had walked this sticky line many times with the Chinese. They could have him wacked or watch him get wacked, without losing a beat. But they paid the rent and then some more. Which was nice.

Mrs Wu sat opposite and filled him in. She was the resident agent here on the coast. And had been married to a local retired English ex pat Elvis impersonator, until he was murdered. But that, as they say, was another story. Wu had been approached by two Moroccans with the tale of a lost Jade treasure, found deep in the desert. It had Chinese writing on it. Their boss had discovered it was an important Chinese heirloom and wanted to return it to China. For a small finder’s fee of $2million. Wu had sent on the images of the Jade to London.

Griff Lingo was their first card played in this poker deal. Find out who or what these guys wanted. It had to be a scam. The Jade had been lost for centuries. Beijing was very upset at anybody making light of such an important part of their history. But if it was the Jade. Then $2 million would be a steal.

The Mojacar Chinese, had a string of enormous sales warehouses along the coast, packed with all sorts of container landfill gardening junk. Lingo met the two Moroccan likely lads at the back of one of these. Lingo studied the various shovels, hammers and files that filled a whole row. Thinking as he did, that one of those hammers may come in handy. These boys were as shady and as shifty as fuck. Hand over $2million to these two jokers, thought Lingo, never going to happen.

They spoke a guttural Spanish that Mrs Wu translated. They had the goods, now they needed to see the money.

Mrs Wu had told them; Griff Lingo was a Chinese Jade expert and that he had to first see the merchandise.

It was agreed that they would show the Jade to Lingo.

At a remote address, way way out in Woop Woop Land. Lingo was not too happy with this. As these guys, Dumb & Dumber, looked like they would rob a kid for a Mars bar.

Next day he was on the road in a hired car heading out into the Almeria desert. He found the place. Looking like a discontinued Fort Apache. Drove into the run-down courtyard. Dumb & Dumber were waiting at the door. There seemed to be others hiding in the shadows. Griff Lingo entered and sat at a large kitchen table. They gave him water and handed him a package.

It was the white Jade. Small as a fist. Cold to touch. A snarling Dragon on top. And intricate Chinese writing on the side and bottom.

Jayzus, thought Lingo, this looks like the real deal. But then again, who was he to know. Lingo wouldn’t know Fools’ Gold from Welsh porn. He was expected to make a call for the money.

Lingo said, “I need to go back to my hotel to organize the cash.”

This panicked them.

No way, they made clear, waving a gun and grunting in Spanish. He had to call for the money, now!

Lingo thought, ‘they couldn’t wack me. Could they?’

Lingo insisted he went back to the Hotel to get the money.

Everyone calmed down and finally agreed, using hand signals, crappy Spanglish and grunts, on another meet. They would call Mrs Wu with the details.

He sped back to the Hotel. Calling London on the way and filling them in.

If they wanted this Jade, it was put up time. Of course, the first thing they asked was, “Is it genuine?”

Fucking worse than Dumb & Dumber. “How the fuck would I know,” Lingo told them, “You need to pay $2 Million to find out, or fucking fold and get off the pot.”

Mrs Wu delivered the new instructions, and the money in a suitcase. Once again Lingo set off, heading towards the new rendezvous, again, way way out in Woop Woop land.

Driving in to yet another dodgy looking run-down Fort Apache movie set, with a ‘Suitcase Full of Dollars.’ Priceless. Lingo put on his best, Clint Man with no Name, face.

The suitcase was placed on the table. Then opened to great smiles from Dumb & Dumber. Then they placed the Jade alongside the suitcase. Griff just sat and waited for the inevitable double cross. Dumber took the Jade back and smiled. Dumb took the suitcase and gave Griff a pitiful look as he raised his pistol. Both of them were dropped really quickly. Lingo listened as the silencers made that nasty snappy thump thump sound. Black clad Jiaolong Chinese Naval Special Forces, moved through the fort and eliminated everybody. The bag with the Jade was snapped up. And then they were gone as quickly as they’d come. The suitcase was left for Lingo to return to Mrs Wu.

He flew back to London. No wiser as to what had actually gone down. Was the Jade real. Did it matter? Did he give a fuck? Move on. Job done.

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Bio: Frank Sonderborg was born in Dublin, Ireland, Shares his time between the UK and Spain. And does his best to write interesting stories. His stories have appeared in: Action: Pulse Pounding Tales 2:, Noir Nation 3: Noir Nation 5:, Pulp Modern JFK Issue #6, Pulp Alternative, Shadows and Light:, Thrills, Kills ‘n’ Chaos:, ShotgunHoney, Twist and Twain. The Yard Crime Blog, Punk Noir Magazine, Talkingsoup. The Copenhagen Post.

Cover photo by: pexels/Tima Miroshnichenko

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