“Tom had nothing to do with my activities,” Mei-chen fired back. “He is completely blameless.”
Tom shot a thankful smile at Mei-chen. She didn’t respond and fixed the three gangsters with a defiant glare.
Feng straightened up with a sigh. “That’s too bad. You know, I really thought you two were working together with that American diplomat.”
“I told you I was innocent,” Tom said. “Now get out.”
“Oh, not just yet Tommy. We just got here.”
A cruel smile curled Feng Lung-wei’s lips like a crawling centipede. He walked toward the door and beckoned for Tom to follow.
“Wait here boys,” Feng said to his henchmen, now leering at Mei-chen’s bound figure. Tom followed the gangster out the door and down the stairs. The main hall was still convulsing with life, now dancing to the tune of “Chinatown, My Chinatown.” Feng Lung-wei gazed out into this multiracial sea of humanity with scornful eyes. A protective instinct went through Tom as a mother would feel toward her child.
“Why are you still here?” Tom demanded, raising his voice over the band. “Just take her and get the hell out of my club.”
“That’s what bothers me, Tommy. I don’t think you deserve Club Twilight anymore.”
Confusion and irritation loosened his tongue. “What was that? Get out of here before I throw you out!”
The threat did nothing to temper Feng’s arrogance. “Let’s talk in private. Order these,” he gestured to around the room, “people to leave.”
“Go to hell,” Tom snarled.
With a shrug, Feng Lung-wei slid his hand into his jacket and pulled out a revolver, raised it into the air, and fired. A vicious shot rang out through Club Twilight, strangling the band’s music into dead silence. Mute horror rippled over the guests, who gawked at Tom and Feng with incredulity.
“Tell these nice people to leave,” Feng Lung-wei said, lowering his voice to a dull growl, “or I’ll have my men barricade the doors and kill every single one of them.”
A malevolent twinkle in Feng’s eye confirmed it was no idle threat. After all, sadism came as naturally to this gangster brat as if scratching an itch. Tom swallowed, stepped forward, and summoned his most dignified and authoritative voice.
“I’m sorry, but Club Twilight is closed for tonight. We must ask you all to leave.”
There were a few offended gasps and hushed protests, but the guests began filing out in an orderly fashion. There was an understanding as they grabbed their hats and coats – after all, this was Shanghai. Crime and chaos were part of the charm, especially in the rough and tumble Chapei district. There were always more tame nightclubs in the International Settlement. Customers threw back their drinks and headed out, while one of the bartenders trotted up to Tom.
“Boss, is everything okay?”
Maintaining composure was always important, especially in front of subordinates. Tom gave a confident nod and sent the bartender on his way. Within twenty minutes, Club Twilight had been drained of its guests like a deflating balloon. The band and bartenders hesitated, looking back at Tom with worried expressions. Tom dismissed them with a jovial and good-natured wave of his hand.
The doors shut and Tom turned to face Feng Lung-wei. “What the hell is this all about? Are you going to kill Mei-chen right on the dance floor?”
“No, not her,” the gangster said with more ominous tone than usual.
Tom realized he was deeper in trouble than he’d thought, like a swimmer carried out to sea by the tide. He reached for the Browning automatic in his shoulder holster but it was too late. Feng Lung-wei had his revolver leveled straight at his forehead.
“Easy now, Tommy. Let’s not do anything rash.”
Feng reached inside Tom’s jacket and pulled out the pistol, then pocketed it in his coat. With the revolver, he gestured Tom over to the bar, where he took a seat on one of the stools. The gangster then looked up toward the stairs and called out, “Come on down, boys!”
Within moments, the two gorillas thundered down the steps and into the main room. One of the mugs had Mei-chen tossed over his shoulder, laughing as she squirmed against her bonds. He plopped her down on a barstool next to Tom.
“Careful you idiot,” Feng complained. “We mustn’t damage the merchandise. Release her. I want a better look.”
The gangster’s thick, meaty hands gripped the binding scarves around her body and ripped them asunder like strings. Despite being free, Mei-chen remained rigid on the stool.
“Come here, beautiful,” Feng Lung-wei said, beckoning nearer. Mei-chen glanced over to Tom, then slid off the stool and walked closer to the gangsters. Feng inspected every inch of her – her legs, her breasts, her neck, her face – unable to hide his lust. With delicate precision, he began lifting the slit in her cheongsam with his revolver barrel. It raised up and up, until Mei-chen ended his fun with a gloved slap to the face.
The two thugs edged closer, but Feng waved them off. Rubbing his cheek, he laughed and gave her a final look over.
“Quite feisty, isn’t she Tommy? How did you ever handle her?”
Tom had wondered that himself. Now he knew. She had allowed him to.
“Go ahead and shoot me,” Mei-chen said, bracing her frame. “Just make it quick.”
Feng burst out a snarling laughter. “Oh it won’t be…for either of you.”
“I told you! Tom Lai is innocent!”
“Yes, I can see that now.” Feng gave resigned shrug. “But it really doesn’t matter anymore.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Tom said, leaping up from the barstool.
Feng held up a silencing hand. “I’ll explain every as soon as my partner arrives.”
Mei-chen and Tom traded confused looks. Partner? What was Feng talking about? For a brief, frightening moment, he pictured Commander Fukuzaki walking through the door. Was he really the victim of a dark conspiracy coordinated by the Green Gang and Japanese Naval Intelligence? After the past two days, it wouldn’t surprise him. Tom looked down at his Rolex. Two minutes passed. Then five. Then twelve.
Finally, the door opened and in walked a nondescript Chinese man in a gray overcoat and hat. His bespectacled face was bland, without distinguishing features but Tom recognized him instantly. The man from the Finance Ministry – Chow Chun-wah.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Tom stared in stupefied disbelief. What the hell was this little bureaucrat doing here? Unless…Captain Tung had finally managed to reach Chow! Tom’s heart fluttered with apprehensive joy and he slid off the barstool to his feet. But Chow passed Tom with a contemptuous glare, before shaking hands with Feng Lung-wei. Tom felt like a drowning man taking a final gulp of air before going under. There was no escape now. But if he were to die tonight, he’d at least know why.
Tom balled his fists. “What are you doing here, Mr. Chow?” he asked in Cantonese.
Feng and Chow turned to examine Tom like a rat in a cage.
“Mr. Feng invited me here to take a look at our new club,” the Finance Ministry man replied in English. There was more to this snake than he let on.
“Your new club?”
“Yes, Tommy,” Feng cut in, spreading his arms wide to take in all of Club Twilight. “This has so much potential! So much space! So many extra rooms! And so many patrons! And yet you squander it all! No opium, no gambling, no whores! Bah!”
“That was the deal I made with Tu Yueh-sheng,” Tom fired back.
“Yes, Uncle Tu has always had bad judgment when it comes to you. Luckily, I found a different investor,” Feng said, clapping Chow on the shoulder. “He will provide the initial capital for renovations. After all, we’ll have to add a gambling hall, an opium den, and—” Feng cast a wolfish glance at Mei-chen “—a brothel. Club Twilight will become Feng Lung-wei’s Pleasure Palace! It will be my answer to the Great World!”
Anger, regret, and humiliation all clamped around Tom’s throat like a vice. He looked at Mei-chen, staring at him with a longing
sympathy. Everyone in Shanghai had made a fool of Tom Lai – his mistress, his best friend, the Japanese, the Kuomintang, and especially that cackling jackal in the pinstripe suit.
“You set me up as a Japanese spy just to steal my club?”
An offended look swept over Feng’s face. “Nobody set you up, Tommy. I was telling you the truth. My uncle did task me with finding Jap spies. We tracked Ono down to your club and picked him up. He didn’t know exactly who his contact was, but he figured it was you since you owned the joint, spoke English, and had a friend in the American Consulate. Little did Ono know that it was actually your little twist over there.” He leered again at Mei-chen.
“You’re still going to kill me, even after you know I’m not the spy?”
“I was prepared to kill you as soon as I saw that Ono slithering out of Club Twilight. Unfortunately, Uncle Tu restrained me. He told me we have to wait and see what Mr. Chow says.”
That was surprising. “Since when does a bureaucrat from the Finance Ministry give orders to the Grandmaster of the Green Gang?”
Adjusting his glasses with a sly smile, Chow said, “I’ve had a business relationship with Mr. Tu and Mr. Feng for several months now.”
“Let me guess? Kickbacks? Government contracts? Siphoning off taxpayer money to line your pockets?”
Chow and Feng shared an agreeable nod. “Yes, to all three,” the bureaucrat replied. “You see, Tu Yueh-sheng informed me about your alleged espionage activities, since he knew I was going to ask for a donation. I told him that you were too valuable a donor to lose, even if you were a spy. Of course, my opinion changed when you gave wrote a check for an amount far less than I had anticipated. I suppose Club Twilight isn’t as profitable as it had once been. After our dinner at the American Club, I called Mr. Tu and told him that the Kuomintang has reconsidered your usefulness. Under Mr. Feng’s stewardship, I expect this club will yield much higher returns.”
“Now, Mr. Chow will get a permanent cut of the profits when we reopen this joint,” Feng said. “A much better deal than begging you for scraps.”
A sickening humiliation gnawed at Tom’s stomach. He looked again at Mei-chen, who stared shamefully at the floor. After all, he had only shortchanged Chow in order to save for their new life in San Francisco – a Victorian in Nob Hill, a maid, a butler, and a new nightclub. His devotion to her had written him a death warrant. It was as if all Shanghai had conspired against him.
“So, this is how you treat fellow Party members?” Tom managed to croak out. “Does Chiang Kai-shek know about what you’re doing?”
“The Generalissimo is a busy man,” Chow said with a shrug. “Too busy to delve too deeply into this matter. I’m sure he will believe the evidence provided confirming that Lai Huang-fu was actually a Japanese agent.”
Tom fought down a bitter bile rising in his throat. Everything he’d done for Chiang, the Kuomintang, and for China – all just a bad joke. Maybe his father had been right all along. Patriotism was for suckers. He focused his attention back on Feng.
“So, Tu Yueh-sheng signed off on your little scheme?”
A dark bitterness clouded Feng Lung-wei’s youthful face. “No, my uncle is too soft on you Tommy. That’s why he gave you forty-eight hours to prove your innocence. He really didn’t want to believe you were a Jap spy.”
It was so absurd that Tom almost laughed. In the end, the two most trustworthy people in Shanghai turned out to be the stoic soldier Captain Tung and the crime lord of the underworld, Big-Eared Tu. Tom Lai was the conduit for the high and the low in society.
“The only reason you’re still alive is out of respect for Uncle Tu’s wishes. In exactly,” Feng paused to glance at his wristwatch, “three minutes, you’ll be executed as a spy.”
“Tom had nothing to do with this! Let him go!” Mei-chen cried out.
Another bout of cackling poured out of Feng and his thugs. “It doesn’t matter if he did or didn’t. The important thing is, Uncle Tu will think that Tom Lai is a treacherous Jap agent. But don’t think I’ve forgotten about you.” A hideous smile spread across Feng’s lips. “You’ll become a permanent attraction here.”
Mei-chen’s eyes widened as Feng took rapid steps toward her.
“We can’t have this beauty go to waste,” he said, taking her by the chin. “But some modifications must be made. First, I’ll cut out her tongue so she won’t go blabbing the truth. Then we’ll dope her up with enough opium to turn her brain into soup. From there on, Ho Mei-chen will be a living, breathing toy, just conscious enough to spread her legs for the next customer.”
As Feng leered, Mei-chen kept an aloof poise, but a tremble in her lips betrayed her fear. Despite everything that had happened, despite all the trouble she’d caused for him, Tom couldn’t suppress a protective instinct for his Beautiful Pearl. If he was going to die, he’d at least go out fighting. He rushed forward toward Feng, but was blocked by the two gorillas forming a human barricade around their master. One henchman hammered his rocklike fist into Tom’s gut, sending him keeling over.
“Aww, too bad Tommy,” Feng hissed with taunting laughter. He pushed Mei-chen into the arms of a nearby thug, who gripped her like iron. “Now everything you had is mine. Your girl, your club,” Feng checked his watch again, “and now your life. It’s eleven o’clock and that means your time is up.”
Although his insides twisted with pain, Tom managed to prop himself up against the bar counter. Chow and the gangsters laughed again, relishing his misery and humiliation. Tom steeled himself and met Feng Lung-wei’s mockery with an air of unbroken defiance.
“Go ahead and take it. Stealing is the only way bums like you get anything in this world.”
The cruel laughter faded.
“The truth is I’ve always been better than you,” Tom continued, his posture stiffening with every word. “And you’re jealous. I’ve built one of the most popular nightclubs in Shanghai and all you have is that little rat’s nest you call an opium den. That’s why you hate me. Because I’m better than you in every way.”
Now it was Tom’s turn to laugh. A thick silence filled the empty club, like the early portents of an approaching disaster. Feng Lung-wei’s youthful face convulsed with bitter hatred, before he finally erupted.
“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! You don’t know the shame of having the great Tu Yueh-sheng prefer a foreigner over his own…his own…”
Feng trailed off, realizing his slip. But Tom didn’t need to hear the actual word. These weren’t the rantings of a slighted nephew, but rather the cries of an unloved, bastard son who needed his daddy’s approval. How could he have not realized it sooner? There were plenty of rumors about Tu Yueh-sheng’s illegitimate children birthed from his many concubines. The Grandmaster of the Green Gang must have been too ashamed of this vicious whelp to even admit Lung-wei was his own son – albeit a bastard son – which explained the story of him being a mere “nephew.” Not that Tom blamed Big-Eared Tu for the cover up. Feng’s cruelty was more on par with Jack the Ripper than the ruthless professionals in an organized crime syndicate.
Feng straightened up and continued his rant.
“To hear him doubt your sanity! But I’ve always tried to make him proud. I killed dozens of Communists for him, but all he gave me was that pathetic little opium den to manage.”
Spittle and phlegm shot out of Feng’s mouth like a mad dog. His angry, reddened face and big ears combined to make this sadistic brat look like an actual mogwai demon from hell. After a long, calming breath, Feng regained some semblance of composure. Continuing a temper tantrum like that meant severe loss of face.
“But now, I’ve caught two Jap spies! And when I open my new pleasure palace, even the great Tu Yueh-sheng will be impressed! At long last, he will boast how proud he is of me!”
“So that’s what this is about? God, you’re even more pathetic than I thought,” Tom said, shaking his head. He fixed a contemptuous gaze straight on Feng Lung-wei. “Go ahead and shoot me. I don’t
even want to live in the same city with a worm like you.”
A cruel smile plastered itself across Feng’s lips. “Oh no, Tommy. I promised you it wouldn’t be that quick. For starters, I think I’ll cut every tendon in your body and turn you into a human jellyfish. Then I’ll leave you in a cellar for a few days before deciding what to do with you next.”
Cacophonous laughter filled the club, like devils shrieking with pleasure. Tom and Mei-chen shared a final, sympathetic look, wondering whose fate was worse. Just then, an explosion of gunfire ripped through the air.
“That came from outside!” Chow exclaimed.
Feng ordered one of the gorillas to investigate. Within moments, the thug had walked out the doors and then returned in a panicked hurry.
“Boss, it’s the Japanese!” he cried, his thick face contorted with terror. “They’re attacking!”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
“What do you mean they’re attacking?” Feng Lung-wei snarled.
“I just saw a truckload of Imperial Marines,” his henchman blubbered in panic. “They must be all over Chapei!”
Tom couldn’t hide his surprise, until he remembered the angry mobs he’d driven past burning Rising Sun flags, hanging effigies of the Mikado, and pummeling Japanese civilians. Perhaps Japan felt war was better than national humiliation.
“You idiot,” Feng roared at Chow. “Your information was wrong! You said the Japanese wouldn’t attack!”
The bureaucrat couldn’t disguise his terror. He wrung his trembling hands and darted his eyes back and forth. “Mayor Wu accepted the demands, didn’t he? I don’t know why they’re attacking! Oh, we have to get out of here! They’ll kill us!”
“No!” Feng barked. “We stay and fight.” He snapped his fingers at one of the gorillas. “The Thompson is in the Mercedes’ trunk.”
“But boss, the Japanese devils might shoot me—”
Feng jammed the Smith & Wesson revolver into the gangster’s cheek. “Either they will or I will! Now go!”
Shanghai Twilight Page 15
