Ruby looked at Keelan. “Miss Wen. So fucking polite this one.”
Mayhew leaned forward. “You have to make it absolutely clear on tape what you're trading. We don't want an hour of fucking jargon in Italian and Cantonese. Remember that when you're doing this deal.”
“Not stupid,” Ruby said.
“Now you can't just reach behind you and turn this thing off and on ...”
Ruby feigned shock. “Can't rewind and check everyone talking loud enough?”
'... so it has to be running when you leave here. That gives you three hours.”
“Three hours plenty of time for a girl to get washed.”
“Get this deal on tape and you’re in the clear, Ruby.”
Ruby took the recorder with her to the bathroom.
“One more thing, Ruby,” Mayhew said.
She turned at the bathroom door. “Want me to take Sony cam too? Hide in my underpants maybe?”
“Who were you talking to in the lobby of the Mandarin yesterday?”
Ruby put her hands on her hips and feigned outrage. “You follow me?”
“Of course we followed you, Miss Wen.”
Ruby threw the recorder on the bed. “My business, heya.”
“Not anymore,” Keelan said, his voice even. “Your business is our business. Or do you think you have us so bluffed we're not going to take precautions?”
He could see Ruby making her calculations, her face betraying first anger, then caution. “Some businessman. Tries to pick me up.”
“According to our report, he succeeded.”
“Okay, try to pick him up also. Girl got her modest. Girl don't have to tell you everything.”
“Girl does,” Keelan said. “You spent the night in his room.”
“You jealous, John?”
“What were you doing?”
“Fornicating.”
“We did some checking. This man's father is Baptiste Crocé. He is not unknown to us.”
Jesus, Keelan thought. Mayhew was right. We're playing with one deck, she has two. “Ruby?”
She didn't answer.
“Ruby?”
“Wear your wire, okay. Then you help me. Everything else my business.” She slammed the bathroom door behind her.
“Why do I have the feeling the shit is about to hit the fan?” Mayhew said.
Chapter 74
San Francisco
The North Beach was a cousin of London's Soho and Hamburg's Reeperbahn, a few raucous blocks of transvestites, tourists and crazies rubbing shoulders in strip joints, jazz clubs and restaurants. But in the back streets, away from the neon glitter, it was still Little Italy. There were hand-painted signs reading Farmacia and Panatteria, a place where fifty thousand Italians played bocce and drank short black coffees in the cafés or went to Mass in narrow red-brick churches.
Mama Fulvia's Ristorante was in the heart of it; it had black and white tiled floors and a dusty bar where the mama of the restaurant's name - who happened also to be Frank Bertolli's sister - presided over her little domain with the demeanor of a minor despot. Her staff wore long white aprons, black trousers, white shirts and braces and lived in fear of raising her ire.
Bertolli had his own table in the corner of the restaurant facing the window. He ate there every lunchtime while he conducted business, except for Sundays, when he ate at home after attending Mass with his family.
Today, Bertolli was sitting with another man. Ruby recognized him, his name was Trappatoni, a bull of a man who looked like a boxer and was actually the family's accountant and consigliore. They both rose to shake her hand as she walked in.
“Siddown, please,” Bertolli said. “Take your coat off. Get comfortable.”
“Too cold,” Ruby said.
“Yeah I forgot. You come from a hot place,” he said, displaying a charming ignorance of Hong Kong's climate. “Hungry?”
Ruby shook her head.
“You gotta eat. Look at you. There's nothing of you.” He called his sister over. “Get the lady something to eat.”
“We don't do rice,” she said to Ruby.
“She don't want rice, Fulvia, for Christ's sake. This is the nineties, okay. It's a cosmopolitan society. Don't you read Newsweek? What's good today?”
“We got risotto,” Fulvia said.
“That's freaking rice, Fulvia. Don't break my balls, okay?” Bertolli pinched her arm playfully “Tagliatelle alla crema di scampi,” he said. “It will put some meat on your bones. And a bottle of Chianti, Fulvia. Make sure it's cold.”
Fulvia gave Ruby a look and went back to the kitchen. She heard her shouting at one of the staff. Bertolli smiled. “Don't mind her. She's racially prejudiced.”
Ruby could feel the recorder pressed between the small of her back and the chair. She looked around the restaurant, wondering if there were any DEA, watching her. But the place was pretty much empty. Two men walked in and shouted a greeting in Italian and came over to shake Bertolli's hand. As they moved away a waiter brought the Chianti and poured three glasses.
“Go ahead with our deal, okay?” Ruby said.
“Sorry, Ruby, there's a problem.”
Ruby gulped at her wine to steady her nerves. “What kind of problem, okay?”
Bertolli looked at Trappatoni.
“Mister Bertolli has been approached by one of your ... competitors,” Trappatoni said.
Ruby tried to control her panic. How can another supplier move in this fast? Just not possible. This was Wah Ching territory, Eddie Lau is paying them a percentage for rights to the action here. “What is competitor’s name?”
Bertolli laughed and slapped the table to break the tension. “Hey, Ruby. Come on. You don't expect me to tell you that. Besides, this is just business. Don't take it so hard.”
“What price you get?”
“Well, you give me your best price and I'll tell you if you can compete.”
Ruby tried to concentrate. But all she could think was: I'm dead. This is the deal that is going to save my life. Now Eddie will have me chopped. How's a girl going to get out of this now?
“Don't understand,” Ruby said.
“Hey, it's simple. He gave me an offer I couldn't refuse.” Bertolli and Trappatoni both thought that was a really good joke.
She was trapped. There wasn't enough air in the restaurant. “You okay, Ruby?” Trappatoni said.
“Twelve and a half,” she said. That would give her fifteen thousand a kilo and she could pay back everything she owed to Eddie and the Sun Yee On and still have a small profit.
Bertolli shook his head. “Hey, Ruby, we're talking twelve here.”
“Okay, twelve.” No profit, but it would clear her debts.
“Sorry, Ruby. Deal's been done. Maybe we can do business at twelve next time. Here comes the scampi.”
The smell of food made Ruby want to vomit. She stood up suddenly, and her glass of Chianti spilled on the tablecloth. The sudden movement made two men at the next table instinctively turn and reach inside their jackets.
Ruby ran outside. She stood in the bright California sunshine and felt the cold shadow of death brushing her shoulder.
***
Mayhew was in the bathroom; nerves always gave him diarrhea. Keelan was sprawled on the sofa, staring at the CNN news channel on the in-house television. He felt numb. Something had gone wrong. Their people at the restaurant had just called in. Ruby had just run out of the restaurant and jumped into a taxi. They had lost her.
He leaped to his feet when he heard the knock on the door. He looked through the spy hole.
Ruby.
He threw open the door and she pushed past him.
“Ruby, you okay?”
Her face was flushed. “Sure. Get everything for you.”
“Our people just called in. They said you ran out of the restaurant.”
“No, everything is okay. I get everything you want. You help me now, okay?”
She threw her coat on the bed. Her hands were shaking
as she reached behind her to peel off the tape. “Get this thing off me,” she said.
She took off her blouse and stepped out of her skirt. Keelan helped her peel off the tape and take off the recorder. “What's the matter, Ruby?”
“Nothing is matter, I get what you want, no shit.”
Mayhew came out of the bathroom. Keelan passed him the recorder. He took out the tape. “He's going to do the deal?”
“Heya, what is the matter? Wear the wire for you. Just like you want.”
“Tell us what happened.”
She stood in the middle of the room in her bra and skirt, her blouse crumpled in her fists. “Deal is off,” she said.
“Deal's off?” Mayhew said. He held up the recorder. “He found out about this?”
“Do not find out. Just cheat me, son of a bitch lump of dog gristle! Find another supplier, heya!”
Keelan slumped onto the sofa. “Fuck.”
“I knew it,” Mayhew said. “I knew we couldn't trust her.”
“Not Ruby's fault!” she shouted. “Cannot trust nobody in this business, no shit.”
“Why don't I just go out and shoot that motherfucker in the head!” Keelan said.
Ruby dashed into the bathroom. They heard her vomiting into the washbasin.
Mayhew put his hand on Keelan's shoulder. “Sorry, John.”
“Let's see what we've got on the tape.”
They slid the tape into the cassette deck Mayhew had brought with him. The tape was blank. They picked up the recorder and checked it.
Somewhere between the hotel and the restaurant the wire to the microphone had been pulled loose.
Chapter 75
THE Washington Hotel was in the Tenderloin district, a rundown and slightly dangerous section of the city that had been taken over by the winos and the crazies. It was a six-story brownstone, the air conditioners from the upper floors leaking onto street. A sign tacked against a ground floor window announced vacancies.
A man in a tan Caprice sat outside watching the building, his car doors locked. You could only tell it was a hotel, the watcher thought, because the sign above the entrance said so. Otherwise you might be forgiven for thinking it was a shooting gallery.
At one stage during his vigil, a man in a torn t-shirt and soiled pin-striped trousers two sizes too small emerged from a doorway and hammered on the windscreen with his fist. When he ignored him the man swore at him, and urinated on the passenger side door.
A little later two men stopped next to the car and made a hurried exchange there on the sidewalk, some money and a small glassine packet changing hands. He ignored them and reached for his thermos of coffee.
A taxi drew up outside the hotel. A CAAC air crew climbed out and hurried inside the hotel entrance. Jesus Christ.
A dark blue Volkswagen van with Dana's Mobile Dog Wash written on the side pulled up against the curb a few yards in front of him. His replacement. The agent noted the time on his sheet and drove away, went to find breakfast in some part of town that didn't stink of piss.
***
Mayhew called Keelan at the Holiday Inn.
“I've scheduled a meeting with the assistant DA tomorrow morning. Do you have a pen?”
“Sure,” Keelan said, picked up the hotel's complimentary ballpoint and tore off a piece of the notepaper from the pad beside the bed.
“I want you to talk to Ruby again. Ask her what she knows about a place called the Washington Hotel. And try these two names on her: Michael Chin and Alan Ho.”
“Who are they?”
“Relations of Louis Huu. They're tied up with the Washington somehow. I'll explain later.”
“Okay. I'll head over to the Mandarin now.”
***
From her bath in the Taipan Suite of the Mandarin Oriental Ruby had an uninterrupted view of the Golden Gate. Pity the view of the future is so shit, she thought. Miniatures from the mini-bar were lined up along the sides of the bath and she drank them, one by one, and dropped the empty bottles into the foamy water.
She went through the deal once more in her mind. Buy fifteen units from Lucien Baptiste at one ten, sell to Bertolli at thirteen and a half. Tell Eddie that Bertolli had cut a deal somewhere else, bad luck for us. Gave her a clear profit of three hundred and seventy five US, enough to pay back Eddie and her other debts plus a margin. Perfect deal.
Only there is no perfect deal any more.
She unscrewed the top off a miniature of Johnnie Walker, swallowed it, and dropped it onto the tiles.
Yesterday when she got back to the hotel she had rung Lucien's room, got no answer. Reception told her he had checked out that morning. There was no message for her.
Not possible, she had shouted down the phone.
Lucien was supposed to be waiting for her call, so she could close the deal, fifteen units at one ten.
Unless.
Unless he had someone follow her to the Hyatt, had set up a meeting with Bertolli himself, cutting her out of the deal; unless the stinking piece of dog vomit had sold his white powder to Frank Bertolli at one twelve.
May all his family's property be ruined, now and forever! May his Secret Sack shrivel up like a dead slug and be eaten be turtles.
How could she ever be so stupid?
But she still had her insurance. What will you do, Ruby? DEA will put you in a trailer park in Nebraska. Not a very fun life I don't think. That what you want?
There was a knock at the door. She got out of the bath, staggering slightly, and tottered to the door, naked and dripping wet.
Keelan.
She threw open the door and wrapped her arms around him, stood on tip toe to hide her face in his neck. Her knee rubbed along the inside of his thigh. “Kee-Lan,” she murmured. “Got to help me. Pliss.”
He pushed her away. There were damp patches all over his suit. “Get some clothes on, Ruby.”
“Promise you do not let me down?”
“Get dressed,” he repeated.
She coiled her arm around his neck, the other hand went straight to his crotch. “Need someone to love me,” she murmured.
He pushed her away and kicked the door shut behind him. “For Christ's sake,” he said. “Do I look that stupid?”
Nice room, he thought, following her inside. Lie, cheat, steal and sell drugs and you get a room overlooking the harbor. Work for the government and you get a view of another hotel room and pay for your own mini-bar.
Ruby slumped naked onto the sofa, and lit a cigarette. A puddle formed on the carpet around her feet. Keelan went into the bathroom and got a towel. He tossed it to her, but she threw it back at him.
She shivered in the air conditioning.
“You'll get a cold,” he said. Strange but without her clothes she didn’t look sexy anymore; she just looked small and sad, like a puppy pulled out of a creek. The room smelled like a gin palace. “You've been drinking, Ruby.”
“No shit.”
“Got some questions I want to ask you.” He threw the towel at her a second time. This time she took it and hugged it to her chest.
“You sure you don't want to get dressed?” he asked her.
“Need another drink.”
"Do you know about a place called the Washington Hotel?”
“Why, you can't afford Holiday Inn no more?”
“How about ...” He checked the piece of paper in his pocket. “How about Michael Chin and Alan Ho.”
“Michael Chin is Louis Huu's son-in-law, okay? Alan Ho ... maybe his cousin. My contact here in Golden Mountain. Is how I get my powder.”
“And you sell it on to Bertolli?”
Ruby wrapped the towel around her and got unsteadily to her feet. She tottered to the mini-bar, screwed the top of another miniature and poured it into a glass.
“Why doesn't Bertolli buy direct from Alan Ho?”
“Louis only do business with other Chinese. Why he is never caught, heya. Do not trust gwailos.”
“Where do you make your pick-ups?”
“Wherever he say.”
“Could they be using the Washington as a warehouse?”
Ruby stared at him as if he was talking another language to her. “Want a drink, Kee-Lan?”
“No, I don't.” He stood up. “Ruby, you still want to testify against Bertolli in a court of law?”
“Sure. Already tell you, okay. Do whatever you want.”
Keelan threw open the doors to the robe. Her Louis Vuitton cases were inside, packed and ready.
“Need a holiday, never mind. Will come back and testify for you. No shit. Whenever you say.”
The whole thing was a waste of time, he thought, just like Mayhew said it would be. “Know what I think, Ruby? I think you were feeding us crumbs and playing us along in case the shit hit the fan. We’re your very last resort but you’re still in the game, aren’t you? You broke the wire deliberately.”
Her lower lip trembled.
“Tell me something. Did you utter one word of truth to me? Ever?”
“Say so much to so many people, how can I remember what I tell you?”
“The money you owe Eddie, the gambling debt to the triads? That was all bullshit too?”
“Wish it was bullshit, okay.”
“Eddie Lau is going to kill you. You know that.”
Ruby shook her head. “Eddie will never hurt me.”
“How do you figure that?”
“Because he is my elder brother.”
“How loyal is a triad brother if you owe him money?”
Ruby shook her head. “No, Kee-Lan. Do not understand. Eddie-ah is my real brother. His real name Wen pui-yuen. We got the same blood, grow up in same little village called Shatin. We get away from that place together, he show me how.” She sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of one skinny arm. “Love him like I never love anyone. No shit.”
Chapter 76
KEELAN'S bedside phone in the Holiday Inn woke him from a black and numbing sleep at six thirty the following morning. It was Mayhew.
“Meet me downstairs in half an hour,” he said. “We've finally got some action.”
Chasing the Dragon: a story of love, redemption and the Chinese triads (Opium Book 2) Page 30
