Neon Dragon mk-1

by John F. Dobbyn

  “Mei-Li.”

  “Bothers you, too.”

  “That girl actually died to get that fortune cookie to you. And for what? It was certainly wasted on Mei-Li.”

  “I keep wondering what kind of help the fortune-cookie waitress was promising me. She knew I was there about the murder of Mr. Chen. She was listening to my conversation with the witness through the interpreter. Three-quarters of it was in Chinese. I think there’s only one way to find out.”

  “We go back to Mei-Li.”

  “One of us does. I don’t think you’re ready for another round.”

  “Really, Mike? How’re you going to talk your way past the Dragon Lady?”

  “I haven’t worked that one out yet.”

  “I think I have. It’s going to take nerve. I know you’ve got plenty of that.”

  “So tell me the plan. I’m open to suggestion.”

  “It’s also going to take a knowledge of Chinese. How’re you fixed in that department?”

  “Less than adequate. You’re still on the bench, Harry.”

  “There’s no way you can do this without me, Mike. You’re stuck with me.”

  I thought about the way Harry looked the last time I saw him. He’d have had to improve to die.

  “I don’t think so. Out of curiosity, what’s the plan?”

  “Here it is. You pick me up here tomorrow morning about nine.”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s it. You pick me up about nine.”

  “And then what?”

  “And then I tell you the rest of the plan.”

  “You could tell me the rest now.”

  “That’s right, I could. Then I could pick up the Globe in the morning and read about how parts of some unidentified Puerto Rican-WASP were found in six different places. When they put the jigsaw puzzle together-guess who?”

  “I’ll pick you up about nine.”

  17

  The Globe had a spread the next morning covering half a page in the city section devoted to the funeral of Mr. Chen. The silent procession of mourners through Chinatown gave testimony to how deeply a quiet, good soul can move the heart of an entire community. I found myself wishing that he could feel the outpouring of love. The funeral mass was said by the auxiliary bishop for the Chinatown area. It was an honor, but I think he would have been even more deeply touched by the tears on the faces of the line of children that extended the length of Tyler Street.

  Harry was on the sidewalk outside of his apartment house at nine sharp, as advertised, bundled up in layers of clothing until only his eyes showed below the fur cap. As he got into the car, I watched him move to see how much mobility had come back. If I were a scout for the Patriots, I’d be more likely to draft Barbara Walters.

  He muffled a groan as he slid his rib cage into the front seat as if it were Ming dynasty porcelain.

  “So how’re you feeling, Harry?”

  He turned his head three degrees. “Terrific. You want to wrestle?”

  I sat there looking at him. “This is crazy.”

  “Just drive, Mike. It’s early. I get better as the morning goes on. Drive to Chinatown. Come at it from the South Station side. Just park as close as you can. I want to get to that place on Beach Street without walking past the no-name coffee shop.”

  I put the car in gear and looked for a way to make a U-turn on Memorial Drive.

  “Harry, what’s with the outfit? Is it that cold? You look like Na-nook of the North End.”

  He squinted crosswise at me. “You’re saying I look Italian?”

  I took another look and had the first good laugh I’d had since I gave up laughing-around the time this case began. He was referring to the fact that the North End of Boston is the domain primarily of people with more vowels in their names than Harry could buy on Wheel of Fortune.

  “What you look like is Outer Mongolian.”

  “It’s partly disguise. The idea is to get through to the Dragon Lady for five minutes before the boys come out to play. Actually, three minutes would do it. Do you have a hat with you?”

  “In the back. I only wear it if it’s below zero.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it makes me look like Henry Osterwald, Harvard, class of ’94. You remember our classmate, the king of hats?”

  He managed to look at me sideways. His neck had loosened up a good ten degrees. “Is it that bad?”

  “I don’t wear it until everyone else’s eyelids are frozen shut.”

  “How about when a Chinese street gang would like to separate your ears by about six feet?”

  “Then, too. Tell me the plan.”

  Harry didn’t start right away. He seemed to be checking the extent of ice that rimmed the sides of the Charles River.

  “I think it’s time you knew a little more about the culture you’re invading, Mike. This goes back a ways. You’ve heard of the tongs.”

  “Sure.”

  “You know much about them?”

  “No.”

  “A tong was like a club, an association. The word ‘tong’ means ‘hall,’ ‘gathering place.’ They were first set up in San Francisco. There was a wave of immigrants that came over to work on the railroads and the gold mines. They were pretty close to slave labor. They had to look to each other for protection. Some of the large families banded together for mutual support. Anyone with a name like ‘Lee’ or ‘Liu’ had plenty of relatives to form a family association. But the ones who didn’t belong to a large family were out of luck. They formed the first tongs. They grew pretty fast, because they could recruit anyone, regardless of family name. You’ve heard of the tong wars.”

  “Long time ago.”

  “Right. Originally, the purpose of the tongs was pretty good. Mutual protection and help. And heaven knows they needed it. They were in a strange country, and not exactly embraced with open arms.

  “Then some years later there came a time when the tongs were taken over by leaders who got them almost exclusively into organized crime. The biggest moneymaker was gambling. Probably second was prostitution. Everything from shacks to ‘parlors’ were supplied by the open buying of girls from age two to twenty. They were smuggled in from China, usually through Canada first. Then, of course, there were drugs-opium being the big one. This goes back to the late nineteenth century.”

  “Is this what we’re playing with in Boston?”

  “Bear with me, Mike. I want you to know it all. You have to know where it came from. You drive, I’ll talk. At different times, there were wars among the tongs, especially in San Francisco and New York. Sometimes it was over a killing, sometimes over control of territories, particularly in New York and San Francisco. The warriors were usually the professional hit men of the tong called the boo how doy. In the early days they used to use ceremonial hatchets to split skulls. That’s where we got the word ‘hatchetmen.’

  “There were so many killings over the fifty or so years of the wars that the tongs got a bad name. You almost never hear the name used by the Chinese. That doesn’t mean the organizations are gone.

  “Many of the tongs are controlled by leaders from triads back in Hong Kong. Some of them are actually American branches of triads.”

  “You’ve got a new word there, Harry. By the way, do you want the heat on, or would you fry in that get-up?”

  “I’m fine. Just drive and listen.”

  Harry shifted his position with meticulous care. I wondered if his plan for the brothel involved a lot of broken-field running.

  “The triads go back into Chinese history. It’s an interesting story. After the Manchus conquered China, they set up the Ch’ing dynasty. They ruled China for over three hundred years. In 1672, the Ch’ing emperor, Kang Xi, got help from the monks in a monastery called Shaolin in Fukien. They were experts in the martial arts. Did you ever watch reruns of the television series called Kung Fu? ”

  “Sometimes. In my high-school days.”

  “Then you understand something about the ide
a of Shaolin. The emperor needed help to drive off the invading Xi Lu barbarians. There were only 108 Shaolin monks, but they repelled the Xi Lu barbarians. The emperor rewarded the monks, and they went back to the Shaolin monastery.

  “Two of the senior officials in the emperor’s court wanted to overthrow him, but they were afraid of the Shaolin monks, who were obviously loyal to the emperor. So they convinced the emperor that the Shaolin could be dangerous to him as revolutionaries. The emperor fell for it. He had the monastery burned, and all but five of the monks were killed. Those five are supposed to be the ‘Five Ancestors’ who created the first triad. They called the triad ‘ Hung ’-‘red’-because of a red light that appeared in the sky during their first ceremony. It was later called a ‘triad’ from their idea of the relationship between heaven, earth, and man. By adopting heaven as their father and earth as their mother, they were free to ignore the bonds of their real families and country and give their loyalty to each other as brothers and to the organization.

  “The Chinese officials from the old Ming dynasty who were thrown out by the Ch’ings and even the poor classes joined into triads patterned after that first ‘red’ society. They used secret oaths and ceremonies and all the trappings. The whole purpose of the triad was patriotic-the overthrow of the Ch’ing dynasty.

  “Then in 1912, Sun Yat-Sen’s revolution finally overthrew the Ch’ings and established the Republic of China. Most of the old triad leaders who weren’t absorbed into the new government stayed with the triads for the status and power. The problem was that there was no patriotic cause left. So they turned to organized criminal activity. The old triad values of patriotism, brotherhood, and righteousness of the last three centuries got warped into pure loyalty to the triad. And the triads became purely criminal organizations.

  “After the communists took over in China, most of the triads moved to Hong Kong. There were about thirty of them there when the mainland took back Hong Kong, in spite of the fact that a Hong Kong statute makes it a crime to belong to a triad. They’re probably mostly still intact.”

  We were passing the Museum of Science, heading in the direction of the once and former Boston Garden and North Station to come into Chinatown from the North End.

  “Interesting, Harry. What does it have to do with the Dragon Lady’s brothel?”

  “I’m getting to that. Listen to me. There are thirty-six oaths of loyalty that every new member swears on the night he’s inducted. Like, they promise not to disclose any of the secrets of the Hung family to anyone, parents, brothers and spouses included. If they do, they agree to be killed by many swords. They also swear that if a brother goes away or is arrested or killed, they will help his wife and children. They agree to be killed by thunderbolts if they don’t do this.

  “They’re quite amazing. None of the thirty-six oaths ever mentions criminal activity. But when they pledge complete loyalty to the brethren, it pulls them away from all of the norms and values of the rest of society. There’s no room for other loyalties. Robbing, beating, killing-it’s all allowed if it serves the purpose of the organization. And if it’s done to someone outside the circle.”

  The more he got into it, the more animated Harry became, and the less restricted he seemed in his motion.

  “You’re telling me we’re dealing with fanatics here.”

  He shook his head. I was glad to see that he could.

  “Not in the sense of being crazies. Just in the sense of being totally dedicated to the cause-which is the business of the tong.”

  “What’s the difference between a tong and a triad?”

  “The tongs originated in the United States or Canada. In many cases they were formed as branches of a triad by people who left Hong Kong or Taiwan.”

  I was surprised. “Are they big in Canada?”

  “Enormous. It’s easier to do the smuggling into Canada first and then into the United States.”

  “Smuggling what?”

  “Aliens, drugs, whatever. They bring over girls for the prostitution houses. They recruit young men, usually already criminals over there, for the youth gangs that are affiliated with the tongs. These people are illegal aliens, so the tong has a good grip on them.”

  “What else are they into?”

  “Every type of crime that’s profitable in the Chinese community. Extortion is everywhere. Everyone pays lomo, ‘lucky money’-shopkeepers, restaurants, even famous entertainers who come over from China to play in the Chinese theatres here. They also pander to the vices that exist in the community. Gambling has always been a way to escape the present with a chance for a different future. Drugs, particularly opium, go back centuries. It’s certainly not a large percentage of the people. But it’s enough for the tong to turn a good profit.

  “The greatest protection the tongs have is that as long as they don’t bother anyone outside of Chinatown, whatever police and politicians they haven’t bought don’t get too excited about law enforcement. Then, too, they have the Chinese community so frightened of reprisals from their muscle, the youth gangs, that they won’t go to the police. Anyway, it’s sort of inbred in the Chinese to deal with their problems in their own community. They’ve learned not to expect much from the white system.”

  I maneuvered through the circle of traffic that leads, for those who survive it, to the new openings of the so-called Big Dig that replaced the old Southeast Expressway.

  “What percentage of the people are involved in the tongs?”

  “Minimal. I don’t now the exact numbers, but it’s like asking what percentage of the Italian people are in the Mafia. The percentage is tiny. Most Chinese are incredibly peaceful, hardworking. They send their children to the best schools they can. They lead good, moral lives. There are infinitely more Chinese victims than criminals.”

  “Tell me about the youth gangs, Harry. Were those gang members that got you?”

  He nodded slowly. “That’s another institution. The tongs need enforcers, primarily for two purposes. They need protection for the gambling dens, and they need muscle for their extortion rackets. They’re like the replacement for the old hatchetmen.

  “The youth gangs are perfect for that. They take in young recruits beginning anywhere from thirteen years old, up. Most poor communities have juvenile delinquents. But what makes these gangs especially powerful and controllable is the mystique of the triad trappings. They’re recruited by the tongs with the old triad initiation ceremonies and oaths of loyalty. Everything has a triad twist to it. For example, when they demand ransom or extortion money, the amount is generally in some multiple of 36 for the 36 oaths, or 108 for the original 108 Shaolin monks. This ‘secret society’ mystique is effective. It not only instills fear in the community, but it forges these delinquents into a disciplined gang.

  “The way it works, each tong usually has its own youth gang as an affiliate of the tong. For example, one tong in New York had the Ghost Shadows. Another tong had the Flying Dragons. You don’t want to mess with either one.”

  I pulled into a parking lot close to the Washington Street end of Beach Street. I liked the park-and-lock policy. Just in case we came out of that brothel at a dead run, ten steps ahead of thirty-six teenagers with hatchets, I didn’t want to wait for an attendant to fetch the car from the bowels of some garage.

  We sat in the car for a minute. I wanted to get the plan straight before we walked into the neighborhood.

  “So how do we do it, Harry?”

  He turned slightly toward me and realized he was still better off looking straight ahead.

  “There are a lot of little low-stakes gambling dens in Chinatown. They’re like family businesses. But the tong always runs one major high-stakes gambling den. It’s a twenty-four-hour-a-day operation. It’s like a giant bank for very serious gambling, drug deals, whatever. There’s a lot of money floating around inside. That’s where the tong is most vulnerable. That’s why a major function of the youth gang is guarding the den. I think I know where it is.”

>   “How?”

  “I read the signals. Young, tough kids around the building. There’s usually just one slip of paper somewhere on the outside with two Chinese characters meaning ‘in action.’ I think I saw it.”

  “Where?”

  “The building down the block from the no-name coffee shop.”

  “All right, suppose you’re right. How do you use it?”

  “We use the weapon of choice in Chinatown.”

  “Which is?”

  “Fear. That’s what gives the tong control over the community. Maybe it’ll give us some control over the tong. First we reach the Dragon Lady. Let’s go.”

  “Wait a minute, Harry. Are you going to threaten to go to the police?”

  “Hardly. The police are useless. Once in a while they’ll raid a gambling den to appear to be doing something. They arrest some of the old people the den keeps around. The judge’ll fine them a hundred dollars, and it’s on with the show. I don’t know what it’s like here in Boston, but the tong usually has some of the police tied up.”

  “So if they’re not afraid of the police, what?”

  “The tong has a rival. The Dai Huen Jai. The Big Circle Boys. They’re a bunch of loose-knit bands of criminals from around the southern provincial capital of Canton. In Hong Kong, that area’s called the “Big Circle” because that’s what it looks like on a map.

  “These babies are tough. They run about twenty to forty years old, and they’re seasoned fighters. Most of them are out of the Chinese military or are former members of the top-gun Red Guard. A lot of them are wanted criminals in China.

  “Their organization smuggles them out of China into Canada, then to the United States. They’re brought in specifically to commit crimes, usually robbery of everything from jewelry stores to gambling dens. When things get hot, they’re smuggled somewhere else. They’re violent enough to be feared even by the tongs.”