by Nico Rosso
“Reckon that’s the restaurant.” Jack nodded toward a long low building. Windows along the ground floor showed a large room with over a dozen tables filled with patrons. A wooden shingle out front was painted with Chinese characters.
He started to knock the road dust off his slacks and sleeves. She did the same, but it seemed like she’d never get clean enough for the city.
“I woke up on the ground this morning.” The other women wore simple dresses or even trousers, all neatly sewn and free of dust. “I don’t think they’ll open the doors for me.”
Jack removed his hat and ran a handkerchief over his forehead. “If they let me in, then you’re definitely welcome.” He gave her a wink, pulled his hat back on, and strode toward the front door.
Inside, the aromas of food surrounded her. She took off her hat and fanned herself, almost dizzy with hunger. Jack also had his hat off. He stood with his feet braced and ready.
A few painted panels of fabric hung on the walls, showing foreign landscapes and Chinese writing. Otherwise it was a simple place, built for the locals. The people in the restaurant stopped their meals to stare at the two of them. Only the sound of small steam-powered carts chugged through the room.
A Chinese waiter approached cautiously. He smiled politely, but she recognized wariness in his eyes. And a willingness to defend his territory. He checked over all their weapons, taking a quick inventory. Other waiters and waitresses stood by, waiting to see if they’d be needed. This was a well-guarded community.
She whispered only for Jack, “They ain’t gonna give up any information.”
He whispered back, “Not without a fight.”
So that’s what it was going to come to. None of these people deserved getting shot, not that she knew of, anyhow. There was a knife in her boot, and her fists, and the butt end of her pistol if she needed it.
Next to her, Jack’s body was balanced and ready. He held up a hand and the waiter braced himself. The whole room waited. Any second, the tension would crack like a whip.
Jack said, “Table for two.”
The waiters and patrons seemed to sigh with relief. It was amazing that a man as hard as Jack Hawkins could make his voice so genial. The pressure that had been building seemed to dissipate from everyone. Except her.
“We ain’t here to eat.”
The waiter gestured toward a table by the wall. “Will this suit you?”
Jack turned to her. “You can’t still be full from that one mouthful of pemmican five hours ago. I can hear your stomach growling like a grizzly from here, same as mine.” He didn’t wait for any answer, speaking to the waiter, “That’ll do fine.”
Leading the way, the waiter still threw cautious glances at them over his shoulder.
She hissed low into Jack’s ear, “We’re eating here? You said they wouldn’t give anything up without a fight.”
They reached the table and he made an extra-gallant gesture of pulling out the simple wood chair for her. “There are lots of ways to win a battle, and none of them are fun on an empty stomach.”
Still not convinced, she sat, keeping her back to the wall. Jack moved around the circular table to sit next to her, also safe against the wall. From there they had full view of everyone in the restaurant.
“Menus?” Jack had such an easy way of sounding like an old friend.
The waiter kept his smile polite. “You’ve never had dim sum, have you?”
It wasn’t often she found a new experience anymore. Her jaw tensed, clenching her teeth. She didn’t want to look the fool for anyone here. Especially Jack.
“No, we haven’t.” He smiled and picked up the small coffee cup that was overturned in front of every chair at the table. “But Dr. Franklin Song recommended we come here and that man’s word is gold.”
The waiter’s face brightened with the mention of Song’s name. “More valuable than gold.”
Things were a mite more comfortable and she also picked up the coffee cup. The damned thing didn’t have a handle on it.
Jack held up his mechanical hand and clicked the joints of the metal fingers. “Met him in Morro Bay. The genius built me this.”
The waiter grinned. “His work has enriched many lives. And will help serve you some fine dim sum.”
She finished fiddling with the small cup and set it back on the table. Jack wasn’t the only one who could spin a tale to snag what he wanted. “He said this was the best eats in San Francisco.”
The waiter’s smile turned more humble, but he didn’t deny it. “I know he’s also fond of The Pineapple Italian eatery in North Beach, but he doesn’t frequent it as much as he does here.”
If this didn’t pan out, that restaurant might be their next stop. She tried a smile, finding it wasn’t too difficult to conjure while Jack was being so genial next to her. “I don’t reckon Song’s ever wrong about anything. Soon as we catch back up with him, we’ll thank him proper for sending us here.”
The waiter waved a waitress and her wood, brass, and tin cart over toward them. “You won’t be disappointed.” He drifted back, giving them their space.
They were out of earshot for a second and Jack leaned against her shoulder. “They don’t know about any bounty on Song.”
“All this business as usual don’t make sense, unless they’re protecting him.”
“The waiter already gave up the Italian restaurant. If he was aware of trouble, he’d have stared us down with a restaurant full of people and told us they were closed.”
Chugging with a small motor and puffing steam from the joints between drawers and doors, the rolling cart approached. Whatever food was in there, it wasn’t anything she’d ever tasted.
Jack casually placed his metal and flesh hand on top of hers, as if they’d dined in Chinese restaurants hundreds of times before. “I’m buying.”
She pulled her hand out from under his. “I pay my own way.”
He kept his hand on the table for a moment before dragging it away. “I don’t doubt it.”
The middle-aged waitress reached the table before they could speak another word. She took a ceramic kettle from the top of her cart and filled their cups, explaining, “Tea.” Leaving the kettle on the table, she pushed a pedal on the cart with her foot and brought the machine to life.
Mechanized drawers slid out of the front, staggered like steps to reveal metal bowls full of gleaming round dumplings. More steam poured out of the cart as the top opened and more baskets of hot food lifted up on metal pistons.
The waitress quickly pointed at the various offerings, naming them. “Jiaozi, shaomai, har gow, haam sui gaau.”
Anna stared at the foods, hardly knowing where to begin. A glance to Jack showed he faced the same dilemma.
Instead of it letting the foreign offerings daunt him, Jack simply gestured over the lot and said, “Yes.”
“Very good.” Quick and efficient, the waitress pulled little bowls and plates of the dumplings and placed them on the table. She smiled when she saw neither Jack nor Anna knew what to do next. With kind patience, she slid a cup full of thin wooden sticks toward them.
Anna had hardly noticed they were on the table. “Thought it was a bouquet of dead flowers with all the petals fallen off.”
The waitress pulled two of the sticks out and demonstrated using them in one hand, deftly picking up a piece of food. “Kuaizi. Chopsticks.” She put the food down and glanced to the shotgun pistol Jack still wore on his back. “Not like a gun.” Tilting the cup, she waited for Jack and Anna to both retrieve two chopsticks. “You don’t have to be fast to be good. Take your time.”
Another push on the pedal and the cart folded up, bringing all the food back into the pumping steam. She wheeled the cart away with no more instructions.
It took several tries for Anna to even hold the chopsticks the way the waitress did, let alone pick anything up with them.
“I climbed a fifty-foot sheer rock face in order to get the drop on the Lyde gang.” She dropped one stick
on the table and picked it up to try again. “I can do this.”
Jack struggled with the sticks in his left hand. “Edward Parker locked me in a hotel room. Nailed the door shut. Set the balcony on fire so I couldn’t go out the window.” Ever so slowly, he clicked the tips of the chopsticks together. “Punched my way through the wall to the room next door. Still had the strength to wrestle Parker off his horse and slap him unconscious.”
The dumplings radiated warmth. Their aroma filled the air. Her mouth watered. But they were so damn hard to pick up with the chopsticks. “I heard you shot the horse.”
“Hell, no.” He almost grabbed one of the dumplings, but it slid from the chopsticks and back onto the plate. “That horse never did anything to me.”
Instead of anger rising, Jack let out a laugh. She joined him. It was ridiculous, the two of them, armed to the teeth and not able to operate a couple of eating sticks a local child could master before they were walking.
She could hardly catch her breath, let alone the tantalizing food in front of her. “I’m so damn hungry.”
He still rumbled with laughter. “Never been this hungry in my life.”
Who cared if the other people in the restaurant stared at them? She and Jack were already the center of attention. Laughing like this made her feel lighter than ether. Like she was rising up through a cool spring rain. It took a moment before she discovered she leaned, shoulder to shoulder, against Jack. He was solid, strong. Strong enough to stand up to her.
The laughter slowed, but she still felt light-headed. Was it the steam from the food or Jack’s steady presence that warmed her? A long breath brought her back to the table. She leaned away from him and brought her attention back to the dumplings. Learning to use the chopsticks was easier than figuring out her and Jack. One would feed her stomach. The other? She recognized hunger enough to know that all the amazing food in this place wouldn’t satisfy what gnawed, deep and empty, within her.
Chapter Seven
* * *
“FOOD AND SEX.” Jack hadn’t mastered the chopsticks, but he could at least get the delicious food into his mouth. “Best way to track someone.”
Anna sipped her tea and dove back into the plate of spareribs in front of her. “Not love.”
“No how,” he agreed. “That just makes a person dangerous.”
She finished her bite and tapped her chopsticks against the plate as she drifted away in thought. “The way a husband and wife fight for each other, or a family protecting the children. That’s when you know it’s a fight to the death.”
There were no meatballs left, so he dragged the plate of spareribs away from her and took two. The waitress had brought the unfolding cart full of broiled and fried meats over once all the dumplings were cleaned off the table. It sure beat the hell out of some lean pemmican for breakfast. Though Jack was discovering that any meal he shared with Anna was quite unique.
They ate in silence for a while. She finished her cup of tea. He refilled it. When his cup was empty, she poured more for him. And when anyone new came in the front door, they both stopped chewing and dropped a hand to the butt of their pistols.
But there was no trouble. The only dangerous characters that day in the neighborhood were Jack and Anna. They collected their share of curious looks and cautious glances.
He knocked his elbow into her arm and nodded in the direction of a table of local men. They ate automatically, not taking their eyes off Jack and Anna. Jack smiled at them, more menacing than friendly.
His words were only for Anna. “This restaurant should throw us a take. We’re bringing in enough extra profit.”
She glared at the men and they finally turned their attention to the food on their table. “There’s only one profit I’m interested in.”
“I think we’ve cut enough firing lanes to get a clear shot at some more information.”
The waitress came by with yet another cart. This one didn’t pump out steam, but was covered in lines of frost. It breathed cool air as the drawers unfolded. Jellies and custards lined the stacks of plates.
Anna smiled politely at the woman. “Don’t go in for sweets, thanks.”
Jack made a show of patting his belly. “I couldn’t eat another bite. Everything was so delicious.”
The waitress nodded, folded up the cart, and wheeled it away. The original waiter came over, pushing a tin cart with a large crank on the side. He quickly assembled the dirty plates and loaded them into racks in the cart. Turning the crank handle, he rang up a tally that punched out on a small strip of paper.
The waiter announced, “Four dollars fifty,” and slid the slip toward Jack.
Anna quickly pinned the paper to the table before Jack could reach for it. “Three dollars each and we’ll call it even.” She moved her hand and fished coins from a pouch sewn on the inside of her jacket.
The waiter expressed his thanks, straightening his jacket. “Come back any time.”
Jack dug three dollar coins from a vest pocket and placed them on the table next to Anna’s. “You fed us so well, I don’t think we’ll need to eat for another week.”
Leaning close to the table, the waiter glanced over his shoulder at the other patrons before speaking conspiratorially. “Did Dr. Song not tell you about the lodge?”
Anna didn’t miss a step. “He mentioned it in passing, but got too distracted tinkering with my friend’s hand. You know how he is when he gets to inventing.”
“Oh, yes.” The waiter chuckled. “Sometimes we have to bring him a second meal because the first one goes cold while he’s sketching designs at the table.”
Jack was almost convinced that Anna really did know Song. “Too bad he never got the chance to tell us about the lodge.”
The waiter stepped a little closer, excited to disclose a secret. “Out the door, make a right. Two blocks, make another right and go until the street ends. It looks like an old two-story shack built into the side of a hill, but it’s his lodge.”
The information was the perfect dessert. Jack and Anna stood. He felt how ready she was to move, to track down the next answer in this puzzle. Neither wanted to wait another second.
He shook the waiter’s hand. “Appreciate the meal and the directions.”
The waiter glanced from Jack to Anna and back. “Enjoy the lodge.”
It felt good to be a little welcome for a change, rather than feared or hated.
He and Anna were quickly out the door, back on the street in the sun.
She pulled her hat low, hiding her eyes. But her lips quirked a secret smile. “Well, I never had finer company for dim sum.”
The rare complement fed him better than any food. “You never had dim sum before.”
“I guess neither of us will forget our first time.”
They turned up the street and walked toward their next turn. “When this is all over, I might come back and have another shot at their dumplings.”
She shook her head, adjusted her gun belt. “People like you and me never make plans like that.”
It was the honest truth and he couldn’t deny it. But the idea of not spending another adventurous meal with Anna chilled the satisfaction that warmed his bones. She truly wasn’t afraid and had jumped feet first into the experience. No one else in his life had been that ready to face a challenge with him. Not against him, but side by side.
That was how they strode up the street, counting two blocks, then turning right into a smaller alley. They bent tall weeds with their boots, walking a path that no one else had stepped on for at least a month.
She tugged a tall green blade of grass from the ground and rubbed it between her fingers. “We’re not going to find him here.”
“Each step takes us closer.” Closer to each other. Without speaking about it, they naturally aligned themselves so Anna was on his right. That way, he could draw a gun with his left hand and she could with her right, neither obstructing the other.
The alley angled steeper, taking them away from the n
eighborhood and two hundred yards toward a small hill in the landscape. Looking like a forest mushroom, one weathered wood building clung to the side of the hill. Jack watched Anna as they climbed toward the building. Her lean legs were strong. He knew the power of her arms from when she’d gripped his shoulders with the kiss. It was hard to suppress an appreciative growl as her hips swiveled to climb the last few yards.
She stopped, chest rising and falling from the effort, and assessed the building. “No trampled grass. Moss on the wood’s not disturbed.”
He added, “Leaves are piled on the roof. Anyone landing from an ether vehicle would’ve knocked some off.”
“Front door?”
As she moved to it he drew his pistol, nodding he was ready. She gripped the door handle and gently twisted it. A brief wave of desire rolled through him. Damn if she turned a rusty old doorknob without making even the smallest squeak.
With a long breath, she steadied herself. Then threw the door open.
An inventor like Song could come up with a lot of things. Jack expected mechanical scorpions shooting acid. Or clockwork Gatling guns that were drawn to body heat. He didn’t expect what was on the other side of the door.
A solid wall.
Anna ran her hand over the bricks that completely blocked the entryway. “Warm. And a little damp.”
He licked his lips, taking in her words. She glared at him and walked toward a rickety set of steps on the side of the building. They started up together and the wood swayed. A definite heat radiated out of the building to Jack’s left.
“Like the hot springs in Saratoga. You ever sit in those?”
“Found some further north, in the Cascades. Nice and private. You can only get there with ether.”
His shoulder rubbed against hers. “You’ll have to show me them some time.”
“Nice and private, I said.”
“Exactly.”
But she didn’t pull away from his touch.
Until the stairs collapsed under her feet. The railing crumbled away and fell twelve feet toward a jumble of stones. She’d been on the outside of the steps, so as the wood split and splintered, gravity took her down.
