"Shit," she said, finally finding an armhole.
"You still got your cell in there?" he said, grabbing her purse. "Get us some help!"
"I must be losing it," she said, pulling out the cell and dialing a number.
"Who out there?" a woman's voice yelled, as the lights over the back porch went on.
"It's just me, Mrs. Crawford, Tanisha Williams."
"My land ..." They could hear somebody unbolting the back door. Wheeler was finally into his pants and was fastening his belt as the door opened and a fifty-five-year-old Black woman looked through the safety-chained door. "What you doin' out there with no clothes on, chile? It's two in the mornin'," she said. Then she saw Wheeler, bare-chested, standing next to Tanisha. They could hear footsteps running in the alley.
"It's okay, Mrs. Crawford. Go back to bed," Tanisha whispered, cellphone in her right hand, getting her shirt on as the call finally rang at Parker Center. Mrs. Crawford didn't move; she kept her eye to the slit in the door. The police switchboard answered.
"Officer needs help, shots fired," Tanisha said, using the ultimate police call for help. "Detective Williams, badge number four-seven-six-nine-eight. I'm in a jackpot, being chased by three black males armed with assault rifles. I'm pinned down in a backyard, corner of McClung and Stocker in Leimert Park, South Central. I'm a Black female with a White male civilian and we're not going to last long."
"Stay on the line, Detective, I'm putting out the call."
"What you doin' with a White boy, two A. M.?" Mrs. Crawford called out. "What you think you be doin', girl?"
"It's okay, Mrs. Crawford. Stay inside," she hissed.
And then somebody rattled the back gate. Tanisha swung in that direction, the Glock in front of her, as one of the G-sters yelled, "She down here!" Then as the Crips started to break down the gate, Tanisha and Wheeler heard the distant sound of a helicopter. In seconds it was overhead, then a xenon belly light snapped on, sweeping the area, quickly finding them. Tanisha held her badge up to the light. The helicopter pilot immediately swung the light off her and found the four AK-armed gang-bangers in the alley next to the back gate.
Seconds later, two squad cars screeched down the alley. The gangsters disappeared into backyards and over fences, chased by four uniformed cops and a belly light. When Tanisha heard sirens in front of the house, she took Wheeler's hand and led him around to the street. Two minutes later they were in the back of a squad car, streaking toward Parker Center, Code Three.
Chapter 39.
The Superior Man
Confucius said, A superior man is sincere, and has the ability to recognize truth, just as surely as he can recognize a bad smell.
Willy had always recognized the truth.
Confucius said, A superior man is watchful over himself when he is alone, because what is true in a man's heart will be shown in his outward appearance. Just as wealth beautifies a house, so does character beautify a body.
So Willy sat quietly alone in his cell at Parker Center, with his jacket buttoned and his hands clasped restfully in his lap. Willy was a superior man even though he suspected that like all mortals, he had some inferior qualities.
Confucius said, The superior man develops up, but the inferior man develops down.
Willy had no clue what this meant. He had made deals with criminals, as well as great national and religious leaders. He had come from great poverty and had assumed great power. He had climbed a slippery, treacherous ladder to gain prominence, living in a world so complex that the concept of up and down, good and evil, had become completely obscured by other men's nature and the complexities of modern life. He had developed in any direction that looked plausible just to survive.
Willy knew that in order to survive, he had to find a way to get out of the United States. He had great Guan-Xi in America and could contact people at the very top of the U. S. government. They would pick up his call quickly, because he had invested heavily in their campaigns. However, he did not trust American politicians; they fit most of the Master's definitions for inferiority. They would sense the danger in helping him and begin issuing denials of their associations with him. For this reason, he had made the one call allowed him not to a politician or a barrister, but to a skinny teenage Tong gangster named Dry Dragon. He knew the boy had gone to pick up 180 Snake Riders. Willy had been given his cellphone number in case there were problems. He had called and instructed Dry Dragon on what to do. Willy could only pray his exact orders had been carried out.
He had decided not to deal with the American justice system. Western lawyers were all inferior men who prized wealth and ego over principle. He had decided to take the situation into his own hands. He had an exit plan in mind. The only problem would be to get the men who arrested him to recognize his sincerity as surely as a bad smell.
Willy hoped to give these inferior men a stench that would gag them.
At ten the following morning Willy was taken from his cell on the third floor in the correctional wing of Parker Center to a large, windowless interrogation room on the fifth floor. He entered and found himself looking at a handsome, well-tailored Black man in a three-piece charcoal suit. Willy felt Blacks were sly, unmotivated people. He viewed them as a hopelessly inferior race. The Black man introduced himself as Cameron Jobe and said he was the Attorney General of the State of California . . . something Willy found hard to understand. The American system seemed determined to reward guile over accomplishment. Also present were two people Willy had never seen before. A police Captain named Verba and a white-haired, distinguished-looking man with blue eyes, who was not introduced.
Willy was shown to a seat. On the table in front of him was a folder. Cameron Jobe turned on a tape recorder and stated for the record the location of the meeting, the date, and the time. Then he read Willy his Miranda rights.
"We know you speak English very well," the Black inferior man said, "but would you like an interpreter?"
"That is very kind, but not necessary," Willy replied in a calm voice, hiding both his pride and contempt.
"You are about to be charged as an accessory to the second-degree murder of two police officers, with attempt to avoid arrest, as well as conspiracy in the murders of Prescott Cassidy and Angela Wong. With the exception of avoiding arrest, these counts are all Class A felonies. Due to the serious nature of these crimes and the international implications, I would like to strongly suggest that you retain counsel," Cameron Jobe said, as he seated himself across the table from Willy.
"I will not require a solicitor," Willy said softly.
"I disagree," Cameron said, "but in that case, I want you to sign this sheet. It states that you have been offered an attorney and read your Miranda rights; that I have recommended you take advantage of legal counsel and that you have declined of your own free will."
He handed the sheet of paper to Willy, who read it quickly and then put his hand out for a pen. One was handed to him and he signed it.
"Before you, Mr. Wo Lap, is a folder. Open it please, and inside you will find two documents. One is a copy of an Agreement that was taken from a temple inside the Walled City of Kowloon, which is your Triad headquarters in Hong Kong. The other was transcribed from Prescott Cassidy's automobile tape."
"I have no such headquarters in Hong Kong," Willy said. "I know nothing of anybody named Prescott Cassidy."
"The document is a contract between you and Chen Boda, who I'm sure you know is the head of the Chinese Military Commission in Beijing." Cameron continued, unfazed. "The Agreement states that you will run, unopposed, for Chief Executive of Hong Kong in the mid-'98 elections, in return for huge financial considerations from Beijing outlined in paragraph three. Paragraph six of this Agreement also says that, in the event you fail to be elected, the Chinese government will help you reattain your position as Shan Chu. I understand a Shan Chu is like a president or head man of a Triad. The document is, of course, written in Chinese, but I have an accurate translation before me. Would you please
read the paragraph I'm talking about?"
Willy looked at paragraph six of the document written in Mandarin. He had supervised its writing the afternoon of his historic meeting with the President of China, in the beautiful Zhong Nan Hai Garden in Beijing.
Willy reread paragraph six, even though he knew the document by heart. Then he looked up and nodded, indicating he had finished.
"Is that your signature?" Cameron Jobe asked. The Attorney General was ready for a denial. He had already had the signature authenticated by two separate handwriting analysts. Cameron and the room full of observers were surprised when Willy leaned forward, looked at the signature at the bottom of the document, then said, "This is my signature."
"Good," Cameron noted. "Mr. Wo Lap, I am now going to charge you with the aforementioned crimes. Again, I feel it is imperative for you to hire an attorney before we proceed."
"I wish to make a statement first," Willy said.
Cameron looked over at Rick Verba, who was in the corner of the room, then at Judge Hollingsworth, who shrugged.
"I do not wish to make this statement twice, and it is very important to me that I am believed. Therefore, I would like to suggest that I make this statement while attached to a polygraph machine." Willy could see that the remark took them by surprise. 'T assume," he continued, "you have the equipment in this building and we can proceed quickly. When you hear what I have to say, you will agree that it is in your interest not to waste precious time."
Cameron Jobe looked at his colleagues in the room, again ending with Judge Hollingsworth, who nodded. "Okay, we can arrange that," Cameron said, then nodded to Rick Verba, who left the room to set it up.
"You're aware of the nature of polygraph examinations?" Cameron asked. "You can't just make a statement. You have to be asked questions that are answered yes or no."
"I'm aware of that," Willy said calmly, in his perfect, unaccented English. "To that end, if you could supply me with a paper and pen, I will prepare a short list of five questions."
Wheeler and Tanisha had been watching Willy's interview through a one-way mirror in the adjoining observation room. After Rick Verba had gone to get the polygraph machine, Cameron Jobe and Judge Hollingsworth left to get coffee, leaving Willy Wo Lap alone. Tanisha left the observation room and followed them into the coffee room, also leaving Wheeler alone.
Wheeler looked through the mirror at the Triad leader, sitting quietly in the room just beyond the glass. The man he was staring at had ordered his little brother's murder. Wheeler felt guilt for not protecting Prescott, guilt and intense, uncontrollable anger. Suddenly, he lost all control. Wheeler wanted to see fear on the Triad leader's face. He wanted Wo Lap Ling to realize it was Prescott's death that was causing his demise, but the Shan Chu didn't seem at all worried. He had a look of passive indifference on his aged face.
"Whatever happens, promise me you'll do the right thing."
Now Wheeler was out of the observation room and into the corridor. Before anybody could stop him, he opened the door to the interrogation room and barged in, not even sure what his mission was, or what he was about to do.
As Wo Lap Ling looked up, Wheeler saw recognition flicker in Willie's eyes. Since they had never seen one another, it was all the confirmation of guilt Wheeler needed.
"I just wanted to tell you that it doesn't really matter what the result of this fucking lie detector test is or what you tell the police," Wheeler said, "because if they don't get you, I will." Wheeler's rage was burning. "You're finished! You'll never get out of jail!"
"Do not mistake inactivity for defeat," Willy said pleasantly. "The superior man lives his life without one preconceived course of action. He must decide, from moment to moment, what is the right thing to do."
Wheeler moved across the room and yanked Willy out of the metal chair and up onto his feet. Willy was only five foot five and Wheeler held him erect, by his lapels, towering above him.
"Hey, asshole, I want you to know exactly why this is happening." There was a moment of powerful silence in the room. "You had my brother killed. You had your street thugs push an acupuncture needle through his heart. That's why you're going down, because you killed Prescott Cassidy."
"Take your hands off me," Willy said, his voice now hissing with anger, fear, and hatred. "Your brother was willing to take our money, but not willing to accept his responsibilities. You may have more courage, but you have his same mistaken sense of direction."
"Wanna bet?" Wheeler yelled into the Triad leader's face.
The door opened and Rick Verba entered with two uniformed police officers pushing a polygraph machine on a rolling cart. Tanisha came in behind him. "What the fuck is going on here?" Verba asked, as he saw Wheeler with his hands on Willy's lapels almost lifting him off the floor. "Let go of him."
Wheeler turned Willy loose.
"Jesus Christ, you're threatening him? You're gonna fuck up this investigation."
"There isn't going to be an investigation, is there, Willy? Willy can't stand an investigation. Look at him--he's already found a hole to wiggle through."
"Get the fuck out of here," Verba said, and the two uniforms pulled Wheeler and Tanisha out of the room.
Willy watched them go, hatred contorting and twitching on his face. He tried to regain his sense of calm, but the raging anger he had fought to control his entire life would not leave him.
The superior man develops up, but the inferior man develops down. Suddenly, Willy saw the truth in Confucius's ancient warning. From impure acts come bad results.
For the first time in almost fifty years, Willy had a sudden paralyzing moment of fear.
Five minutes later the polygraph operator arrived. She was a forty-year-old woman named Helen Staggs and was the best the LAPD had on staff. Willy removed his coat jacket and was hooked to the machine. The electrodes were extended around his chest, the clips attached to the fingertips of his left hand.
Mrs. Staggs turned on the machine and set a level to determine skin electrolysis and respiratory function. She asked Willy a few test questions to be sure it was functioning correctly, then she looked up at Cameron and nodded.
Tanisha, Wheeler, and Rick Verba were now in the adjoining room watching through a mirrored glass window.
Wheeler was still enraged. Willy had again assumed a look of indifference.
"Is your correct name Wo Lap Ling?" Cameron began.
"I will not answer any of your questions," Willy stated. "I would like only to answer the five questions I prepared. I think you will find it well worth your while."
Cameron looked over at Judge Hollingsworth, who shrugged. Willy withdrew the handwritten note from his pocket and handed it to Cameron Jobe, who opened it and read the questions to himself. First a puzzled look crossed his face. Disbelief quickly followed. "You can't be serious?" Cameron said. "This is outrageous!"
Willy fought to exhibit a serene exterior. "Ask the questions," he said. "You will see by this machine that I am telling the truth."
Cameron glared down at the list of questions as though it were dog shit in his hand. "Do you have a nuclear device in your possession?" he began.
"Yes, I do."
"Is it a portable Russian knapsack bomb?"
"Yes, it is."
"Is it currently in Los Angeles?"
"Yes."
"Is it set to explode today at four P. M.?"
"Yes," Willy said, keeping his voice gentle and superior in the quiet room.
"Is it somewhere at Los Angeles International Airport?"
"Yes, it is."
They looked at the polygraph operator. "These are nine-plus-range responses," she said. "Very truthful."
"Obviously you will try to find this device," Willy said. "That is your job. My plane is at LAX. You undoubtedly will search it first, but you will be wasting your time. In the meantime, I want my jet provisioned and fueled. My pilots must supervise this operation. I will take off at exactly three P. M. Once I have cleared American airspace,
I will radio you the position and the instructions for disarming the nuclear device. That should give you adequate time to disarm it before it explodes at four o'clock. You should now ask me if I intend to live up to this agreement. Your machine will verify my response."
There was an awkward silence in the room.
"Ask him," Alan said.
"If we let you go, do you intend to keep your end of the bargain?" Cameron asked.
Everyone except for Willy turned to look at the polygraph operator.
"Yes," Willy said. "I would never break my word." The Triad leader was rewarded with a nod from Helen Staggs. "You must not waste your time. I want my plane ready to depart no later than three."
"What if we put you at the airport and let the bomb, if there even is one, take you up with it?" Cameron said.
"You can pursue whatever course you choose."
Willy sat quietly and waited to see what his enemies would do. They were inferior men, and as the Master had once said, inferior men were liable to do anything.
Chapter 40.
Carter DeHaviland
Tanisha and Wheeler could not remember the name of the man who told Willard Vickers that Willy was dealing in nuclear weapons. They called Vickers in Cleveland and he gave them the name. Twenty minutes later, Carter DeHaviland showed up at the fifth-floor office in Parker Center. He had rushed over from the CIA's office on Wilshire Boulevard as soon as they'd called. Carter DeHaviland was stoop-shouldered, with wire glasses, and wore an out-of-date narrow-lapeled seersucker suit. He was an E-5 company Indian, and told them he was assigned to the Agency "Scare Book," which investigated black market nuclear ordnance from the old USSR armory, alleged to have been sold to terrorists. The hundred missing suitcase bombs were already under investigation. He listened while they filled him in, finishing by showing the results of Willy's lie detector test.
"I think this is pure bullshit," Cameron said, after the briefing was complete. "I think he's bluffing."
Riding the Snake (1998) Page 31
