Golden Throat (Cable Denning Mystery Series Book 1)

by James P. Alsphert

  “Don’t tell me, those are not nice words, now, are they?” My patience was wearing a bit thin. “What in the hell does fan kuei mean?”

  “It mean ocean ghost, white man. Lucky your eyes not blue.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It mean white man with blue eyes most treacherous.”

  “Well, then, if we can get a drink and I can light up a Lucky Strike, we can toast to my natural brown eyes then, can’t we—and then I’ll really be dangerous.”

  The old man looked at me strangely. “You cannot stay here. We have one rum with triple sec. Then you must go.”

  “But I just got here. Rum and triple sec—you Chinks are pretty sophisticated after all—or at least some of you.”

  The old man glowered at me. Something I said must have offended him. He seemed to be quite respected in this house of ill repute, for he snapped his fingers and right away a pretty little thing dressed in a tight-fitting yellow outfit came over. He spoke in Chinese to her and she left. “Like most white men, you are offensive and walk with pomposity. We Chinese, even transplanted to United States, remain humble and require the simple to bring us happiness.”

  “Well, whoever you are, I couldn’t agree with you more. Outside of being a little ‘pushy-pushy’ out there on the street, I’d say you guys are somewhat more humble. Do you think it goes with the breed?”

  “Do not be facetious, my race has lived longer and grown wiser than you. One day, when the rule of the white man is over, the Chinese will dominate this planet.”

  “How in the hell do you have such a vocabulary for such an old, ignorant looking coot?”

  “I have mastered all languages of the earth. I learn engineering and build railroad over the Sierra Nevada mountain.”

  “Now you’re pulling my leg. They started that at the end of the Civil War, 1865 or so. It killed a lot of them. You look old, but not that old, Mister.”

  “Not matter.” Just then the lovely little Asian waitress brought our drinks. I reached into my pocket to pay. “No pay. I have good credit here.”

  “Well, thanks, Mister—you do have a name, I presume?”

  “No name. You tell me, ocean ghost, what you come for—I think I know, but I must hear it from your mouth. Speak with your lips, I no hear perfect.”

  I finally lit up that cigarette. I lifted my glass to toast my very strange guide. For a spark of a minute I could swear I saw the old man’s eyes change color. Naw, a trick of the red candlelight. He lifted his glass with a very stern countenance. Of course, the Chinese are always serious, aren’t they? Well, except for maybe Chinese New Year in February when they all get drunk. “Well, do you want the truth—or do you want me to skirt around the gory details and simply tell you I’m soaking in your culture?”

  He studied my face carefully. “You…are truth man. Not lie easy. Now speak with your lips, look at me with your eyes when you tell me…”

  “Okay, here goes. Talking about railroads, I got railroaded into finding this rare golden acorn, pod or capsule—or whatever it is—called The God of Our Fathers, okay? It’s supposed to contain the origin of the blueprint of creation and why something or someone bothered making the universe—let alone humans—so it’s the Great Omnipresent, or some such thing—I mean, that stuff’s not my line. I’m a cop in L.A. I don’t like what I do, so I got roped into finding this thing. A couple of psychic people pretty hooked up to something or other, guided me here. They told me a lovely Chinese virgin who came from a lotus seed at the bottom of a dry lake knows where the damn thing is.” I took a deep breath and a slug of my rum and triple sec, which was quite potent. “And that’s why I’m here. I haven’t got a clue where to start looking except in these pits of damnation and vice.”

  The old man sat back in his chair and I saw appear on his face the first semi-smile he’d cracked since we’d been talking. “Fen de Fuqin. The lost precious was stolen from the Cave of the Seven Truths. A legend, I say to you. Chinese occult know all this. You are stupid to pursue. Finish drink and go home. You young, handsome fan kuei. Why waste life? Much to live yet.”

  “It ain’t that easy, stranger. I neglected to mention a few things, such as the death toll this thing has already cost us fan kuei’s and personally, there is a very beautiful young woman whose life is dangling there in the dark unless I come with something real soon. You see, I can’t make heads or tails of who’s who chasing this thing around. There was Dr. Sandor who was half science, half greed, and when I saw the little thing glow under the blue light—”

  “—you see Fen de Fuqin? In blue light?” His eyes widened.

  “Yeah, that’s how old Sandor could see the etchings on the outside. Of course I understand a microfilm etched in gold is inside. It’d have to be awful small to get stuffed into that little capsule.”

  “You dead man.”

  “Aren’t we all—sooner or later?”

  “Not good you be here.”

  “So, are you gonna help me?”

  “Huh?”

  “The Chinese virgin and all—can you steer me in the right direction?”

  He studied me for a final time. “You go tonight to House of Black Hand. Down stairs to basement.”

  “You guys sure are into basements…” I chuckled.

  “Not laugh. First place by Dragon Gate. When sun set.”

  “I’ve heard of the Black Hand, alright, but it wasn’t Chinese. I thought it was at the beginning of the century—Serbia or someplace like that.”

  “Unity…or death…it mean nothing funny. Hatchet Man must not know.”

  “Okay, okay…just trying to warm things up a bit. I’ll be there.”

  The old man said no more and departed. My pretty little waitress motioned that I follow her. She led me to a back door and let me out, saying nothing. The whole thing was getting creepier by the minute. The old fart knew about the sacred capsule, the virgin—and the Hatchet Man. Just that in itself sounded like a lethal combination to me.

  Just about sunset I made my way toward the Dragon Gate. I was listening to Honey singing somewhere deep inside. It was like she was in my ear, reminding me to come up for air, that life and love and something good still existed out there, fighting its way to the surface. I Can’t Give You Anything But Love was coming in loud and clear. I guess in the end of things, that’s all we’ve got. Something of ourselves to share, and I knew Honey was true-blue, and even though I knew she’d be tested by the world and tossed to the wolves of Hollywood sooner or later, she was made of better stuff and she’d survive it. Between singing at the club, making records and a movie career, her life would hardly be her own. I knew it was easy for me to be selfish about it, demand more time of her, hand her a male ego ultimatum. But that wasn’t my style. After all, I was the one who introduced her to the world she now found herself circulating in. And yeah, there’d be wolves in sheep’s clothing trying to get into her pants, guys with lust in their groins for another notch on their guns, all on the pretense of assisting her career. An old story.

  At dusk I was searching for some clue as to exactly what first building by the Dragon Gate I was supposed to enter. The old man forgot to mention left or right? Then I saw a figure beckon to me. It was the building on the north side of the gate. It wasn’t exactly the Hall of Supreme Harmony in the Forbidden City of the Ming Dynasty, but it looked kind of fifteenth century with all the gingerbread on the roof and all. I entered and a young woman in plain black, led me silently down a flight of stairs to the bottom floor. But this basement was a far cry from the opium cave or gambling hall I was in earlier in the day. This interior was exquisitely decorated in reds, gold and blacks. A huge bright burgundy carpet fit the room wall to wall. The young woman took me to a wonderful heavily upholstered chair. She left and I sat and waited.

  Soon a man in a deep black suit with a fedora entered. He approached me but did not speak immediately. Instead, he went into a chest and withdrew a string of incense. He lit it with a match and came over to
me. He began swirling the damn thing above my head. I had the distinct feeling I was not supposed to speak until spoken to. For some reason, while he was doing it, I was thinking of my little Latina lover. What a brave and adventurous soul she turned out to be, I thought. Adora Moreno would’ve made a great life mate for a private dick—they could actually work in tandem. The key to it all was the lack of fear. The minute you fear, I’d learned, is the minute you attract what you’re afraid of. Adora seemed to have the same makings inside that I did in that regard. She was a swell dame and I hadn’t a clue as to where our intimate relationship would end up. I only knew that she had already given me some of the sweetest moments of my life. And for Cable Denning, that was saying something!

  “I am the one you fear,” he finally spoke up, his voice deep and clear. His English was remarkable. He was a bit pudgy and his black robe was too big for him. The sleeves hung draped over his forearm. His eyes were so slanted that I thought they were closed some of the time. “I am the one you dreamed. The old man feared me. You do not?”

  “Well, it’s kinda hard to fear what you don’t know, now, isn’t it? But I am amazed you remembered you were in my dream. How’s a thing like that work? Now let me see, you’re probably the Hatchet Man—and a member of the local branch of the Black Hand, right? But you can’t kill me unless your superiors obligate you to that assignment, am I batting five-hundred so far?” I realized I was goading him a bit.

  “Never mind. I am cleansing you for your audience.”

  “My audience?” A shiver went through me. I just got it. I was going to be introduced to the mysterious “she” of virginal fame. “This is a nice place you have here, but it’s a bit chilly for a fun time with some babe.”

  “You disgust me, like all white men disgust me,” the chubby man in black said. “You fan kuei all alike. Every female mean something sexual to conquer. Do you know who I am—or was before I committed myself to the Black Hand? I was executive of successful import company.”

  “Bully for you, Mister Hatchet Man. You guys are ridiculous. All these secret clubs and organizations—I did that as a kid in a tree house when I was eight. Why don’t you grow up and have a life?”

  His face turned red as he reached up his sleeve and brought out the head of a hatchet. Uh oh, I thought, I’d done it now! I got up and ran for the nearest exit toward the rear and it was just like my dream. The Hatchet Man began to chase me all around the damn place and just as I was forced into a dark corridor at the end of the rear hallway, I caught a flash of red in the subdued light and out stepped a most gorgeous babe in a shining silk outfit with golden dragons embroidered all over it. She put her hand up and the Hatchet Man stopped, also exactly as in my dream! She said nothing but motioned for me to follow. We got into a gold-plated elevator and we ascended three stories. I was still so out of breath from too many Lucky Strikes and being chased around by the ‘Mad Hatchet Man’, that I had to bend over while the lady went forth and lit a few very large red lanterns.

  She approached me slowly. She carefully looked me over. “What is it in the mind the heart cannot understand, Mr. Denning?” she asked. “You have pursued me for the sake of pursuit and capture—rather than for truth.”

  I was floored by the dame. She stood about five-five, slender but shapely, her eyes slanted in some sexy way I can’t quite explain, while her thick, black hair shone in the dim light of the red lanterns. Suddenly I felt humbled in her presence, like I had been a smart shit all day and now it was time to stop. I stood there out of breath. “You’re right, but first of all, thanks for saving me from your goon out there. Your Hatchet Man is a bit testy, you know.” She didn’t comment. I couldn’t believe I was actually in her presence and she really did exist! “How’d you know my name and may I assume you—you are the virginal Red Dragon Lady I have heard about for quite some time now?”

  “You may assume what you like,” she said as she faced me, checking out my eyes. “I am Lei-tao. We have met before. In your Los Angeles…on a street in Chinatown. You flirted with me one day, when two bad men were killed on your streets.”

  All of a sudden it hit me—yeah, the babe who seemed out of place that Friday afternoon when Ardizzone and Blinthe got it. “Oh, yeah, I remember…I thought you were a knockout.”

  “A knockout?”

  “Yeah, a real dish—you know, beyond pretty…like beautiful.”

  “Thank you.” She sized me up, then walked away a few paces. “I am the guardian of Fen de Fuqin, the Sacred. To put your mind at ease, I reclaimed the capsule from inside the bank vault and began to return it to its home. But too many evil forces were blocking my passage, so I hid it securely in a location within a day’s journey of here.”

  “Fen de Fuqin? So that’s your name for that damned golden capsule?”

  “Yes. It must be returned to…to its proper place. But, as I have told you, now it is safely hidden somewhere.”

  “Ah, the fabled magic castle, huh? How come you speak such damn good English, probably better than mine?”

  “I have mastered all languages of the world. Remember, ‘I study engineering and I build railroad over Sierra Nevada mountain’?”

  Now I was really stumped. “You mean…it—it was you—the old man?”

  “Yes. Nazar Ravna discovered that when he and his Oculus Pyramis Mandatum tried to abduct me. I am a shape-changer, able to transform into any organic form I wish at will.”

  “Well, let me tell you, lady, that’s the best trick I’ve heard of in my entire lifetime! And what in the hell does this Oculus thing mean? You’re not pulling my leg now, are you?”

  She smiled at me. I had an inkling that this lovely creature was not completely free of prurient desires and that she was just a little bit attracted to me. Or maybe it was just my fantasy. “No. There is no time for that. Ravnas’s Order is translated from Latin, as meaning mandating eye of the pyramid. Before very many of your years, you will see how far they cast their shadow as reference will be made of their Order on the very backs of your paper money that you exchange every day without even knowing it. You and I—us—are in a dilemma. I understand you are in the middle of this by seeming coincidence. But the natural order of things does not work that way, it is intentional. All of life is a classroom. What have you come to learn, Mr. Denning?”

  “Cable…please call me Cable. Uh…I don’t know…let me see…I came up the rough way and I’m not sure that it didn’t warp me in some way, like toughen me up and cover up some of my emotions. Maybe that’s what I need to work on. What do you think?”

  “You are extra-ordinary, Cable. Call me Lei-tao. Love is always the best place to begin the great journey of learning about what we might contain as beings.”

  “I’ll second that.” I was thinking of that wonderful little body and that China doll face of hers without the Red Dragon Lady’s clothes on. “May I ask…are you…are you really a virgin as legend has it?”

  “In your sense of the definition, yes. I come from a very different dimension than you. I cannot have sexual intercourse in the crude manner of overt physical contact with the opposite sex such as you do.”

  “Well, then, do you have sexual feelings—l mean, like normal women?”

  “I do not know what you mean by ‘normal,’ Cable…but yes, I feel desire to receive love and erotic sensation—but it cannot happen by touching someone. It would revolt me—or—or turn me cold and rigid.”

  “I see,” I said, lamenting the waste of all that luscious looking babe. “That’s too bad. But on the other hand, maybe it has its merits, too. Let me tell you, in the past few days I’ve been battered around so much in my head, emotions and body, I’m still trying to find which end is up.” I stood there looking at her beautiful face. “You don’t look like the horrible Red Dragon Lady I was told you were. Am I missing something?”

  She laughed mildly. “No. You see me now as I have chosen to appear to you. You saw me as the old man. I was even the old lady searching the bodies of the
dead men that day. Then I changed back into a form you would be attracted to, so you might tell where they took the bodies. There are many other forms I can take that would terrify your limited mortal perceptions.”

  “Yeah, but why such a dish? You don’t make it easy on a guy to do business with you, you know. Ballsy young cops like me live like a bull in a China shop…pardon the expression…careless and clumsy.”

  She avoided answering me. “You must rest your body now. Stay here with me tonight. Tomorrow I will show you something special about the Fen de Fuqin.” She showed me to a plush sofa in the middle of her gold and red living room. Then she left me without a word. Just thinking about her, a love song started playing in my head. Honey was singing My Heart Stood Still somewhere in the recesses of my mind’s ear and I wished it was Lei-tao, and maybe somehow it might be prophetic, for a few minutes later, as the song was humming in my brain, Lei-tao walked down a hallway from her shower room totally nude! If one can fall in love with the backside of a babe, I figured he was really hard up or the gal really had something. I had never seen such a perfect and exquisite back. I wondered if she had done this thing on purpose? I lit up a cigarette and sat on the sofa, trying to collect myself and review the day’s happenings. Phew! Today had been a corker.

  But complete rest was not to be. I was dreaming about Honey and she was singing her little heart out at the club, a sassy version of Someone to Watch Over Me, the same song she sang to me out on the dance floor at Gregorio’s the night we met. In a way, I wished I was there watching over her right now. But the dream got pretty intense as I was reliving a terrible night in ’27 when I shot and accidentally killed a gangland big player, one named Vincenzo Drucci. The mob had vowed to get back at me, but the crooked cops in the force would’ve done it for the syndicate except for one thing. Someone didn’t want the favor pulled out of the magic hat—at least not yet. Mario had kept telling me the Jewish Mafia wanted Drucci dead, so they owed me one. Maybe it was them that kept the specter of death away from my door. Anyway, the dream got pretty intense as I found myself running around desperately trying to protect Honey from all the guys who wanted to screw her and own her. We were in the Bella Notte, and all of a sudden a whole bunch of guys who looked just like Frank Laggore showed up, dodging here and there, looking for Honey. They came out of the kitchen, from behind the stage, in the front door—all of them with guns drawn. I fired away at them, but as soon as one dropped, another one showed up just as mean and intent on getting to Honey. Just then a stranger came to my assistance. It looked to me like the brains behind the Prohibition money-making machine, was one Arnold “The Brain” Rothstein. He was known to the underworld as the Moses of the Jewish Gangsters. I needed someone to deliver me to the Promised Land just about then, and even though we’d have to forego the burning bush and God’s commandments for the moment, I was glad to have him aboard, firing away at the bad guys right beside me. But they kept multiplying and soon Honey came running out of nowhere calling out my name. I ran to her but it was too late as the punks turned their guns onto her and filled her full of lead. She went plunging to the floor as I screamed out her name, “Honey! Honey!”