Riding the Snake (1998)

by Stephen Cannell

  Johnny Kwong seemed to be well known at the Corral. People waved to him and shouted greetings while he played. Julian led them to the bar and ordered for them in Chinese. Tanisha had a wine cooler, Wheeler ordered a cola. She looked over, surprised at the choice. She had been mildly aware of the fact that he hadn't been drinking since they left Cleveland. At dinner, he'd passed on the wine list; he hadn't opened the mini-bar in the suite or even had a free drink on the plane. She looked down at his hands to see if they were shaking but he had them tucked safely in his pockets.

  "This is one of the big clubs in the Wanch," Julian said. "The Wanch is the whole tenderloin district in Wan Chai."

  "It's also a Ho-tel," Tanisha said matter-of-factly.

  "Beg pardon?" Julian asked.

  "Those are the Ho's over there," she said, pointing to a string of B-girls lounging on stools at the far side of the room. They were wearing fuck-me shoes and lacy see-through tops, with slit skirts that showed they wore no underwear. "The grind rooms are back there, behind the curtains," she said, just as two girls got off their stools and approached some Chinese men. Then they accompanied the men across the room and through the curtains. "Cha-Ching," Tanisha grinned.

  "You're right," Julian nodded. "This is a bit of a knocking shop. Prostitution is illegal in Hong Kong, but everybody looks the other way. The girls take the customers back to the plastic-lined rooms and manipulate them to orgasm. A while back, one of our British legislators, Dame Lydia Dunn, inspected this place for the Health Ministry. She insisted on looking back there. They didn't have time to freshen up the stalls, and when she looked down and saw all the tissues on the floor, the Lady said, Tt must be very unhealthy here, because the poor girls all have colds.' Bloody true story," he grinned. "But the Black Swan, upstairs, is one of the best Chinese restaurants in the city. Johnny calls it the Mucky Duck, 'cause the illegal proceeds from downstairs help fund the restaurant overhead. Johnny also likes it because he can pop down here after and get his oil changed. Lookin' like he does, it's his only play with the ladies."

  Julian looked over at Johnny, who was winning now, a small fortress of chips in front of him. "You should have seen him before the fire," Julian said reflectively. "What a figure of a man he was, like a cinema star. Women everywhere. He certainly paid his dues to the Crown, that one has." There was a tinge of anger mixed with the remorse. "The only way to get inside Willy's temple is a full-on police raid. Be a big operation," Julian continued. "Johnny has good connections with the Independent Commission Against Corruption. There still are straight coppers on that detail. If we can get a map drawn, you can bet Johnny will find a way to put a raid together."

  "We're gonna take off," Tanisha finally said, "unless you want to stay, Wheeler."

  "I'm outta here, too," Wheeler said, picking up his cue.

  "There's a taxi rank directly outside," Julian told them.

  "Something is very kinky," Tanisha said, "and I'm not talking about what goes on in those plastic-covered booths."

  They were back in the Mandarin Suite at The Pen and she had changed into the hotel robe. It was belted around her slender waist. She had her feet up under her, curled in the club chair that faced the window. She was holding the incomplete Xeroxed map of the Walled City.

  Wheeler was standing next to her, looking out at the harbor. "Are we getting jerked off?" he wondered aloud.

  The neon across the harbor threw shafts of light on the water that reached across the bay toward them, like the ivory fingers on a Chinese fan. The speedboats raced in the dark, their fast-moving running lights streaking like fireflies under the heavy cloud-black sky.

  "I can't shake the feeling that something isn't right," she said and dropped the map on the table, "but I'm too tired to figure out what. I'm bushed. Going to bed." And that's what she did.

  The phone woke him up at four in the morning.

  "I can't find Johnny," Julian's slightly drunk voice announced. "His phone isn't picking up."

  "You can't find who?" Wheeler was clawing up from a deep, dreamless sleep. Finally, he broke surface and reassembled his thoughts.

  "Johnny Kwong," Julian said. "He sounded different when he called me two hours back, like some bloke who just lost a shilling and found a sixpence. Then, all of a sudden, he was sort of saying good-bye. Hard to explain, but I partnered with him for five years. I couldn't get to sleep, worrying, so I paged him. He's not returning. Something's gone whacker."

  "Where are you?"

  "I'm . . . I'm, well, laddie, I'm not in church."

  Then Wheeler heard a woman laughing and he knew where. "Okay, what's his address? I'll meet you there," Wheeler said. "We'll all take a look."

  "He lives in a flat not fifteen minutes from you, on Queens Road East, two thousand six. It's going to take me a little longer."

  "We'll wait outside till you get there."

  The row of flats was old and architecturally unimpressive. It sat in nondescript blockiness on the corner of Queens Road and Swallow Street. Tanisha and Wheeler had been waiting for fifteen minutes when Julian pulled his English Ford Popular over to the curb in front of their Mercedes rental and joined them by the car.

  "Nice of you to come over. Didn't want to call headquarters and make a muck of it for Johnny. The new Commie Supers are lookin' for any reason to cashier all us old Royal Constabulary coppers," he said. He looked to Wheeler and Tanisha, who both thought he was still drunk. They all moved across the street and into the apartment building. It was almost five A. M. and the sun was beginning to lighten the distant horizon.

  They took the lift up to the third floor, then Julian stopped in front of an unmarked door and knocked. There was no answer.

  "How do we get in? Pick it?" Tanisha said.

  "I know where he keeps the drop key," Julian said. He moved down the hall to the fire extinguisher, opened it, reached in, and found it on top of the coiled hose. "No sprinklers in this building. You'd think, after what happened, Johnny would get a flat with overhead water." He fit the key into the lock, turned it, and they entered.

  Johnny's apartment was a mess. Somebody had thoroughly searched it. The contents were strewn everywhere. The upholstered chair seats were overturned and ripped open from underneath. The shelves were emptied, books and small artifacts strewn everywhere. It reminded Wheeler of his brother's house after the Chinese gangsters had been there.

  "This is a spot of too bad," Julian muttered, pulling out his 7.65mm Russian automatic.

  They moved through the place carefully, but it was empty. Then they began their own thorough search.

  Tanisha used her thumbnail to swing the bathroom cabinet open. It was still full of cosmetics and pills, indicating that Johnny hadn't left on his own. She could see a tube of Tiger Balm ointment, and some lotions and creams on the shelves which, she assumed, Johnny used to keep his horribly burned scar tissue lubricated.

  When they finished searching the apartment, Tanisha came out of the bedroom and found Wheeler looking down at a silver-framed photograph in his hand.

  "You shouldn't be touching that," she reminded him.

  He turned and showed it to her. It was a picture of Angela Wong, a little younger, maybe five years before. Her hair was bobbed and she was in a Disney World T-shirt. In the picture with her was a handsome Chinese man, about twenty-five. As Tanisha looked closer, she saw it was the same man whose picture had been on Angela Wong's stomach in her basement workout room in Torrance, California.

  "Who is this?" Tanisha asked Julian, pointing to the handsome young man.

  Julian crossed the flat and looked at the picture. "That's Johnny, before the fire," he said. "With his mum, who lives in America."

  Chapter 23.

  Sleeping with a Tiger

  The assault on his senses had been overpowering. Fu Hai had walked blindfolded in the dark for twenty minutes or more, flies buzzing in his ears, his hand on the belt of the tall man in front of him. He fought desperately to control his gag reflex. Then, as if by
magic, he felt afternoon sunshine on his face and arms. The stench of human waste and rotting sewage was replaced by cherry blossoms so sweet he could barely contain his sensory joy. His feet moved across grass now. He could hear birds singing. A man's voice spoke softly to him in Mandarin.

  "You will wait here."

  Strong hands disengaged his grip from the belt he had been clutching and placed his hands at his side. Fu Hai wanted desperately to please these voices who now controlled his life and future.

  He had lost track of time waiting in the dark Key Room just inside the Walled City. He had been able to endure the smell because of an air shaft that connected to the street. A young boy brought him tasteless food once a day but didn't talk to him. Fu Hai sat on the floor, his head on his knees, and prayed that he would soon be released from this dungeon without a lock. He had wanted to get up and run out into the street, but he had no place to go. The thing that held him there had been his dreams of America. He didn't know how much time had passed, several days, maybe longer. Then an extremely tall man, about thirty years old, came and handed him a blindfold. He was told to put it on, that it was time to leave.

  He had been led blindfolded through the stench-filled Walled City and was now someplace else, someplace very different. He was standing in the sunshine with the sweet smell of flowers and fresh-cut grass in his nose. Then, after a great deal of time had passed, the tall man came back and, without removing the blindfold, led him a short distance farther into a building. His feet were now on hard tiles and he heard a heavy door close behind him.

  "Take off the cloth," the tall man said.

  Fu Hai reached behind his head and removed the knotted rag. He was in a beautiful place: A magnificent carved ceiling was above his head; gold-leaf statuary of dragons and snakes sat on stone-carved pillars in the entry where he was standing. The windows looked out on a huge meadow, and in the distance maybe a hundred meters away, he could see the backs of rotting buildings that he assumed were the ghetto in the Walled City through which he had just come. He could hear wind chimes somewhere nearby.

  "Prepare to meet the great and most powerful Incense Master," the tall man said.

  "How will I prepare?" Fu Hai asked.

  "You will make yourself humble. You will realize that before such wisdom you are nothing. Prepare to accept any wish he commands of you, or you will go no farther."

  "Will he send me to America?"

  "You must not ask for favors. To attempt to bargain will only bring disgrace. One must serve the powerful to achieve one's destiny."

  The tall man left, and Fu Hai remembered a Confucian wisdom taught to him at school: "Serving the powerful is like sleeping with a tiger," the Master had warned.

  Soon the door opened and four old men in flowing red robes came into the magnificent enclosure. They were all very impressive, with gray hair and eyes that reflected ageless knowledge. Fu Hai was instantly both afraid of them and drawn to them. Then the most impressive of the four men approached him.

  "I am Jiang Hu," he said. In Chinese, jiang hu meant "the rivers and the lakes," and the name referred to any man who had a floating lifestyle, a sense of detachment from society. The old man was telling Fu Hai that he was a member of the Chinese subculture, a gangster.

  "You are privileged to be brought to this holy place," the old man said. "This Temple is called the City of Willows. You are just inside the east gate, which, if you choose, is the beginning of your journey. Few get this far, but after accepting this road, none may leave. Many things happen in this placeIt is the opening flower, a place of extreme awakening. The first step on a path to a new life and the place where all recruits must register. Do you understand?" Fu Hai nodded.

  "From here there is no return. If you go forward, there is either success or failure, life or death. There is no other option. Do you wish to continue on this journey?"

  Fu Hai wanted to go to America. He wanted to save his beautiful sister, who had been made ugly by her life. He knew no way but the path he was on. He nodded his head to show he understood the consequences.

  "Good," the old man said. "I am the Incense Master of this great and secret society. To enter here, you must do whatever I instruct. Is this your wish?"

  Again, Fu Hai nodded his head.

  "That door," he said, "leads to a life of power." The Incense Master pointed to a door with a sign above it that read Yap ki mun fei chung mat wong, which meant "Go no farther if you are not loyal." The man in the red robe wrote Fu Hai's name in a book of recruits and then opened the door. Fu Hai walked into a small inner room with another door and one window. The Incense Master and the three men with him encircled Fu Hai.

  "There are four entrances to the City of Willows" the Incense Master said. "The City of Willows is open to all men who can prove worthy of being Brethren. The Red Flower Pavilion beyond this door embraces all, regardless of class or rank. A peasant from the Western Provinces is as valuable to us here as a wealthy, powerful businessman from Beijing or a policeman in Hong Kong. If you obey our laws, you will never again fear other men, but there is much to learn," the Incense Master instructed. "To become a member of this secret society you must experience three days of spiritual evaluation and teachings. During this time, you must prove that you are willing to sacrifice yourself for your Brethren. But once a recruit has passed into the City of Willows, he is defined only by his association here. He is no longer a sparrow who flits from tree to tree, looking for lint to build a nest. He becomes instead an eagle who swoops from on high and slaughters life, grabbing it in his talons, but always obeying the three great rules: the rules of this society, the rules of nature, and the rules of the Lord Buddha."

  Fu Hai couldn't believe his ears. Was it possible that in three days he could become knighted with such power? Become the equal of the wealthy?

  "Is this your desire?" the Incense Master asked.

  "Yes," Fu Hai said, bowing his head to show respect.

  "But we are a Society of strict laws. As there are great rewards, so are there great penalties. A traitor to the Brethren must suffer a Living Death. It is important that you understand. Are you strong enough to experience our rewards as well as our penalties?" the Incense Master asked him.

  "Yes," Fu Hai said.

  "Then you will wait here," the Incense Master said. "It will not be long. You are a caterpillar who has asked to become a butterfly. Prepare to attempt to change yourself forever."

  They left him in the small room just inside the east gate of the Temple the Incense Master had called the City of Willows. Fu Hai sat on a hard bench and smelled the flowers through the open window and tried to imagine what it would feel like to not be afraid of other men. He could not do it.

  An hour passed, maybe more, before they came and got him. He was led out of the room, and a novitiate's plain white robe was slipped over his head. It went all the way to the floor.

  "You are safe here. It is important that you know that," the Incense Master said. "The four gates of the City of Willows are guarded by the four great and ancient faithful ones. The spirit of Lee Cheung Kwok guards the north gate, Hon Fuk the west, Chang Tin the south gate, and Hon Png the east. No enemy of the Triad, mortal or spiritual, can reach you here." Then he opened a door and led Fu Hai into the magnificent Red Flower Pavilion.

  There were approximately a hundred other people in the huge open room. All were dressed in identical red robes, the only exception being Fu Hai and four other initiates in white, who were just inside the first gate, which was a freestanding threshold in the back of the Pavilion. The initiates were led past the second threshold. They skirted the edge of the hall, moving around two other symbolic gates. They were told they had not yet earned the right to pass beneath them. The Incense Master led them to a spot where they had an unobstructed view of a magnificent altar at the front of the room.

  The Incense Master spoke softly to the initiates, describing important symbols in the City of Willows. "Before us, farthest from the altar, is the
Heaven and Earth circle," he said, pointing to a large symbolic circle on the floor, farthest away from the huge, beautifully decorated altar. "It blends the mortal qualities of the earthbound with our great spiritual ancestors. Beyond that is the fire pit, which you will soon cross and which will symbolize your lack of fear and pain. Then, closer to the altar, you see the large stepping-stones that symbolize the righteous path of the Brethren of the Chin Lo. Finally, the two-planked bridge that leads to the altar. Only the most surefooted traveler can cross this bridge to experience the true power of life," the Incense Master said. "You undoubtedly will wonder at the trials before you. You may even question their value, but as a muddy river will one day become clear, so will the wisdom of these trials. To be persistent in this task, from start to finish, is a virtuous thing," he told them.

  Fu Hai couldn't believe the splendor of the place. Great sayings hung from ornate banners on the walls all around the hall. But more important than the splendor or the spectacle was the way the Incense Master spoke to them. It was as if they were important guests, valued additions to this place. No powerful person had ever before addressed Fu Hai in this fashion.

  The Incense Master pointed to one thing after another, giving them brief descriptions of everything and explaining what each object stood for. He pointed to the engraved tablets on the walls which honored other Triad chapters.

  On the huge, festooned altar he pointed out each of the symbolic articles. The Tau, which was a large wooden tub filled with rice, each grain said to represent a society member, all equal in size, shape, and importance. He pointed out the flags of the ancients, including the Five Tiger Generals, and the flags of the Four Great Faithful Ones. The current Shan Chu's own flag was there-- the beautiful gold warrant banner of the most high and holy leader. In a large holder near the front of the altar was an ugly red club, which the Incense Master told them was the symbol of Triad punishment. Also adorning the altar was the Sword of Loyalty and Righteousness, which he said represented the sword of Kwan Kung, God of War. It was used only for initiation of the holy and execution of Triad traitors. He went on pointing out everything: the yellow umbrella, signifying the Ming Emperors who had allowed the first Triads to flourish in the 1500s; a large white paper fan, constructed of bamboo with thirteen ribs, representing the administrative divisions of China under the Ming Dynasty; the abacus, which once calculated the sins and debts of the Chinese people, and now represented the economic power of the Triad; and the beautiful, ornate scales of justice to weigh and guarantee the equality of all Triad members. The banners that hung over the altar preached great wisdom in glorious gold-threaded Chinese symbols. Fu Hai read as many as he could see: