Racing the Tide

by January Bain

  “Okay, I’ll plan to go to the Chang Café and be a customer, dress sexy. Guys in these places only see the body, not the face, anyway.” She snorted her disgust. “Then I can plant bugs under a table and in the ladies’ bathroom. Or better yet, if they need any waitressing help, I’ll jump right in. That way, I can get into the back office. Filling out a job application is an ideal way.” Gabby nodded as she detailed her plans.

  “If not, we’ll go in when the business closes tonight—if it closes. Plan B, but I would prefer not to use it unless necessary as it involves more risk. It’s going to be a long day, folks. I wouldn’t expect much sleep until we find Sara. Okay, anything else?” Quinn asked.

  No one spoke.

  “Okay, let’s roll.”

  Cole went right to work collecting the necessary items off the well-stocked shelves he himself had filled scant hours earlier.

  His cell phone buzzed and he answered it, tucking it between his chin and his neck to keep his hands free to continue collecting what was needed.

  “Hey, Cole,” Beau said, loud and clear over the device. He was stunned to hear from his brother today of all days. Or maybe he shouldn’t be. Beau never gave a moment’s thought to anyone but himself.

  “Beau? Why are you calling?” Cole asked, keeping his tone flat. It was not what he wanted to know most. When he’d been going through the worst trials of his life, his twin had been nowhere to be seen. His identical twin brother—a mirror image only on the outside. Inside, they couldn’t have been more different.

  “I’m thinking of coming to Vancouver to see you. What do you say?”

  Cole closed his eyes, gritting his teeth. Where the hell was Beau when he needed him most? Oh, yeah, right, back in rehab for the third time. “A little busy right now. There’s a young girl missing and I’m on the job. The clock’s ticking. Might be better if you held off on that.”

  “Oh,” Beau said, clearing his throat. “I really wanted to see you, to try to make amends, Cole. To try to make up for not being there when Maddie died. I was in rehab and my counselor said it was too early to risk it. I wanted to come, I really did—”

  “No matter. What’s done is done. I have to go. Catch you later.” Cole broke off the call and slid the cell into his jeans pocket.

  He looked up to catch Gabrielle staring at him, her lips pressed together, though she didn’t remark on the terse conversation.

  “I need to stop by my place on the way, to change. In case I need to apply for a job.”

  “Fine, but it’s a waste of time. I could easily do both places.”

  “I carry my own weight. The café will be perfectly safe this time of day, anyway. We’ve both got jobs to do, so let’s get to it.”

  Cole nodded. “Okay. Here you go, Gabrielle,” he said, handing her a supply of electronics while pocketing his own.

  “It’s Gabby,” she said, arching her eyebrows. “I think I mentioned that already.”

  “Doesn’t seem to fit you.”

  She grinned at him. “I can talk with the best of them.”

  “Fine. If you insist, Gabby it is.”

  She chewed on her bottom lip, drawing his attention once more to how full and soft they looked. He liked that she wore no lipstick. He hated sticking to lip gloss. Now, where the fuck did that idea come from? Mind on job.

  “Okay, let’s go,” he said more grumpily than intended.

  “Sure,” she said, looking more confused than anything. He was so out of practice with women. Well, it was staying that way. Best she think him an asshole than anything else. He’d lost his white hat a long time ago. It had been ground down into the dust.

  He followed her out onto the street, locking the door behind them. With Silk still a no-show, the office was deserted until they hired more help. He used his key fob to unlock his half-ton and moved to help Gabby inside, but she was too fast for him. Climbing up and perching on the passenger side seat with ease, she’d soon buckled herself in and was waiting for him to come around and start up the engine.

  The drive was made in silence, and twenty minutes later, the heavens opened and rain sluiced down as Cole pulled into a parking spot in front of Gabby’s townhouse. No wonder their official tourism website listed ten things to do on a rainy day in Vancouver. They needed to. The east coast location was notorious for rainfall, something he’d have to get used to after dry Los Angeles and its Santa Ana winds. Of course, rain might beat a raging wildfire all to hell. Or an earthquake.

  “Do you want to come up while I change?” she asked, giving him a sidelong glance.

  “Ah, no, I’d better wait here. And you’d better put on a rain slicker.” He awarded himself several brownie points for resisting the urge to say yes.

  “Sure, boss,” she said, her white teeth flashing and giving him other ideas. He watched her disembark, race up the front steps and gain access to the front door, the drenching downfall plastering the silk blouse to her body in mere seconds, making his eyes widen. He swallowed hard. She vanished inside and he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, waiting, wishing he had accepted her invite. Might be nice to check out her apartment, see how she lived.

  She didn’t keep him waiting long, hurrying back down the front steps in a yellow rain jacket pulled tight over her body. She jumped back in the front cab of the truck and shrugged off the bright coat. He took in her clothing choice and damn near forgot to breathe.

  * * * *

  Day Three: 10:59 a.m.

  ‘“Study the past if you would define the future’. Know who say that?” Uncle Chang asked the three young men crowded round the tiny table in the back of Chang’s Café.

  Tommy shrugged with politeness when Uncle looked his way. Uncle began most meetings with some—in his opinion—unnecessary quote, his dark eyes glittering as he dispelled his wisdom.

  When no one answered his query, Uncle shook his head in sadness. “We are doomed to repeat our mistakes if we don’t study our history. Confucius say it and many other wise things. Very smart man with admirable character. Better than fine manners that pass for good man here. Five thousand years of history. Sima Qian, he wrote the records down way back in the day.” He tapped the side of his head. “We know more than others. Lots more. We skeptical of everything. Choose what’s right.”

  “Wikipedia says that time is not right. Says it’s only thirty-five hundred years. Why, Uncle?” Lee asked in all innocence, not understanding things yet in Canada and daring his uncle’s wrath. Lee was newer to the BTK than Tommy. Uncle had already explained to him that the country was a baby with no real sense of history. Not like the Chinese who know so much and had so much culture. Going way back. The idea gave him a proper footing, made him a stronger person, for sure.

  “Fuck that stupid thing! Don’t know nothing about us. Written by people with no past. Stay away from it or you get yourself stupid. Understood?”

  Lee looked down at the tabletop, chastised, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed. A sheen of sweat broke out on his forehead beneath his black spiky hair. He had much to learn. Way more than him.

  Uncle wasn’t done yet. “We Hans are the true people. Look at our art, our writings, our food—we the best. Everyone knows this. We Middle Kingdom. Center of the universe.”

  A moment of silence.

  “Bah, people know nothing of how hard it was growing up in Guangdong province during the civil war. My own grandfather died of pneumonia, leaving our family to fend for ourselves. The things my family had to do to survive, to have a chance at sending one son to land of golden opportunity to help others.” Chang shook his head. “We never speak of outside our clan. And the good fortune of Uncle Woo bringing my father here to Vancouver, only fifteen years old with eight dollars in pocket—that was our salvation. My father worked eighteen-hour day to make enough to keep family alive in China. And now, we all here. I sponsor more family. Earn the money to provide. As all of you must do to support our clan.”

  “What can we do for you to
day, Uncle? We’re here to help in any way,” the man Tommy knew as Fat Boy asked, nodding with respect. Fat Boy had been around longer than him, being two years older. Tommy watched the man, who was neither fat nor a boy, wanting to be certain of Fat Boy’s lesser importance to BTK, see if he could keep it from growing any stronger.

  He patted himself on the back that he was Chang’s real nephew. He’d heard the family story countless times in a far more intimate setting, as Uncle loved to lay out a feast for his clan every month without fail. Loved to be the big man. Big man stuck in the past. Like this story, told over and over, something Tommy had to hide his distaste for. He prided himself on his smart plan, a plan that was going along with such perfection he felt emboldened at his ability to carry it out. He was destined for greater things, just like the man said. Soon, very soon, he would be ready to step into the open with his cunning revealed, gain the good wishes of the clan, all while filling their coffers with gold.

  Chang heaved a heavy sigh. “We must prepare special message, many special message. All of you gather supplies today, go to different stores all over town so no one knows. Make them and stock them in boxes in basement. Right here.” He used his forefinger for emphasis, pointing downward. Tommy was aware a vast network of underground rooms and tunnels running beneath Chinatown that kept certain kinds of business for the gang secret. Lots of caverns to hide whatever they needed, even if a war went on for a long time. “If bloody triad think they can come in and push us out, they are much mistaken. We fight. We keep what is ours. Do this right, my boys, and you will get more of the pie.”

  Tommy sat up straighter. Special message. The phrase ping-ponged back and forth in his brain. Code for delivering a homemade bomb. A deadly contraption created in a large glass jar that held a stick of dynamite upright with a five-inch fuse surrounded by hundreds of small nails or tacks, then wrapped in duct tape. Something he had not been called upon to do before. Meaning something big was up. So, the threat of triad taking over what was theirs had become real? For months now, there had been rumors. Uncle was too stuck in the past. Old man. Not up on cybercrime. Not like triad. Not like big man in China. Someday Tommy planned on being the big man in Chinatown, and he knew how. Stay up with the times. Keep up with where the money was. Money for far less risk. Nice and clean. Very smart.

  His thoughts quickened. Deliver special message. Being asked to do such a thing meant he was being trusted more, becoming an important part of the main crew. Good. This would keep Uncle busy, not notice everything else going on. He pushed everything else away and focused on the opportunity of earning a larger piece of the pie if he did this assignment well, helping others to make the rounds to collect protection money from the businesses in the neighborhood. He licked his lips. It also meant more risk, making bombs, but he was the important fire rat.

  “I am ready to step up, Uncle,” Tommy said, locking eyes with the man and giving a generous head bow.

  “Good. You go with him, Fat Boy. Let me know when it is done.” Chang grinned. “Fire rat nephew is perfect for this job, eh?”

  Chapter Four

  Day Three: 11:29 a.m.

  “Okay, you wait here. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Cole checked his pockets, his hands searching out the bugs he intended to plant wherever possible. He’d parked down the street from Paradise Massage. The rain continued in torrents, so he reached down and grabbed the umbrella that was essential equipment in the rainy city from the side pocket of the driver’s door, preparing to exit. Arriving soaking wet would not aid his cause.

  “I’m going to grab a coffee and muffin at the café. Want anything?” Gabby asked, pulling on her rain slicker. He couldn’t stop himself from turning and watching the performance, her breasts almost falling out of the too-tight top and her creamy thighs visible beneath the scandalously short skirt. A fuck-me outfit if he’d ever seen one. Did she need to go that far to get a job at the café? Now, he was worried she’d make the wrong impression. If she made him hard in an instant, what about every male in a ten-block radius? Christ. And he was expected to spend long hours with her. How in the hell was he going to manage that?

  “Uh, sure. Coffee black and whatever muffin looks freshest. Doesn’t matter. Just be careful, okay?” He got out and shut the truck door harder than necessary before she could answer. He needed to find a boxing gym and wear off some of this tension. He rolled his shoulders and forged on through the downpour, the rain skipping back up from the cement jungle and soaking the bottom of his jeans. The odor of fried food assailed his nostrils, driving away the tantalizing fragrance of Gabby’s delicate floral perfume.

  Two blocks through the driving rain and he came to the inset doorway with the Paradise Massage sign perched overhead. The business name was arranged around a single red rose motif, and flashed its constant message of twenty-four hour massage available. He pulled the door open, the jingling of bells atop the door planted to alert those inside to customers. The narrowness of the front reception area had a claustrophobic atmosphere, giving Cole a foreboding sense of oppression he had no choice but to ignore. He’d never liked small spaces to begin with and knowing what likely went on behind these dingy walls did nothing for his comfort. A small middle-aged woman wearing a red dress with a white embroidered flower motif greeted him from behind a counter. She gave him a small bob of her head, her black hair pulled up into a sleek bun. On top of the counter was a cash register and some white and green mints in a candy dish. Behind the woman was a display of prices written on four-by-eight chalk board. It looked like the prices changed quite a lot—that area was much smudged next to the written services of time and activities ranging from massage to acupuncture.

  “Special price for new customer today only. Only one hundred dollars for a whole hour of massage, includes making sure you are relaxed with full satisfaction guaranteed. Your choice of girl. You like?” the woman asked with politeness, her dark eyes glittering in the dim light of the storefront.

  He nodded, placing the closed umbrella he’d been careful to secure before he’d walked into the business, dropping it into the stand provided. He didn’t need the bad karma of an open umbrella on his head.

  She rang up the cost on the till, waiting while he dug out his wallet. He paid in two fifty-dollar bills, making her smile.

  “Come, you choose your girl,” she said, gesturing for him to follow her down the hallway. Unnoticed, he stuck a listening bug under the edge of the front counter, then hurried after the woman.

  She ducked inside an entrance way and he stopped next to her, observing the half-dozen young women sitting around the room. As they noticed his arrival, most of the women who had to be cold with their lack of proper clothing, sat up straighter on the sofas or chairs they perched upon, giving him coy smiles. One of the women looked bored by his arrival, averting her eyes to avoid contact.

  “Generous man has paid for full service. Treat new customer well,” she announced to the room at large, lacing her words with an undercurrent of warning.

  Cole pointed at the one most reluctant to do the job. “She’ll do.”

  He earned a quick frown that disappeared in a split second as she pressed her lips together, nodding as if in pain. Disgruntled employees could be the best sources of intel. Either that, or she was not into giving him the full experience today, which was fine. Not that he didn’t need it. Just not here.

  “Come,” she said, standing up on her teetering heels and taking his hand, pulling him into the hallway and right into one of the small cubicles. She motioned him inside, closing the door.

  “You take off clothes and put on robe, yes?” she asked, pointing at a small partition with a robe thrown over the top. “I prepare now.”

  “I’m just looking for a massage—nothing more,” he said.

  Her eyes widened and she pouted. “No tip in just massage. I can do much more for you. Make sure all your stress gone,” she suggested, her eyebrows rising with fake coyness.

  “I will tip you if the ma
ssage is good. All I need.”

  “Okay, you change, then.”

  He walked behind the screen and removed his shirt and shoes, keeping an eye out for the best place to leave a bug. He planted one on the window, attaching it to one of the bars that kept out trouble. But more than here, he needed to get into the back office he’d gotten a glimpse of at the end of the hallway. That was where all the action would take place.

  He lay on the massage table, front down, rolling his head to the side to observe the masseuse laying out some oil that smelled of coconut when she popped the lid, and placing a towel nearby.

  “There’s fifty bucks in it for you, darlin’, if you let me sleep for a while after.”

  She smiled. This time it was genuine. “No worries, you sleep like a baby when I finish.”

  She began with careful attention, working her slender fingers across the skin of his back and down his upper arms.

  “Don’t be afraid to work the muscles hard. It’s been a tough few months.” He might as well get something for the deal.

  She massaged his shoulders and back in earnest now, applying pressure just this side of pain. Perfect. Except he was too tense to really let go.

  “You like your job here?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “Job okay.”

  “You live in Vancouver long?”