Jillian turned on me. “Some job you’re doing, Hampton. Just look at him! With help like yours he’ll soon be six feet under.” She was beautiful with her hazel eyes glazing over and shaking her long blond curls. She obviously hadn’t forgiven me for the tree-hugging thing.
“So I failed, miss mouth. I failed to be in your father’s jail cell at midnight. Sorry for missing the party.”
“Now, now,” Jack cajoled. “I was just kidding. Hamster has never let me down.” He thought for a minute. “Well, maybe he has but not too many times.”
“Thanks Jack.”
“You’re entirely welcome.”
Jillian arched an eyebrow at me. “You’re supposed to be a detective. You should have solved Leo’s murder long ago. Jack should not be in this mess.”
What could I say? That Jack had created his own mess and insisted on wallowing in it? “I haven’t exactly had help from your dad, Jillian.”
“What?” Jack’s eyes danced. “You’re blaming me for all of this? You ingrate!”
“See?” Jillian stomped to the door. “See?”
I turned to Jack. “Was it something I said?”
“I think so. I was doing better before you came along. I had her arranging flowers.”
Jackie and I elbowed our way through a crowded corridor, up the creaking steps to the shaky second floor of a building on Keifer Street, then followed the dim light to a door at the end of the hall. According to Tony, Fat Asian would meet us there at exactly nine p.m. I opened the door to an almost empty room, but for the wooden crate serving as Fat Asian’s throne. He was a large boy, no more than twenty, overweight and puffy as a feather pillow, but he sat erectly while exuding an air of importance. He wore a blue shirt with parrots on the sleeves over ballooning purple pants.
He held out his hand. “Five thousand.”
I whipped out my wad of bills. “Half now, half later. After you crack the code.”
He stuffed the bills into his pocket without argument. I handed over Jackie’s scribble and walked to the window to wait. Jackie scooted behind me.
Fat Asian studied the writing for several minutes. “It’s from Willy Chan. I know Willy.”
“We know it’s from Willy!” Jackie said officiously.
“How?” Fat Asian tossed back.
“Same as you do. Code name. He uses Wilbur for family. Weynolds must be wike family to him.”
I nodded. “He is. Their mothers have played mahjong together for thirty some years. The boys went to school together and know each other well.”
“And they’re partners in certain things, people say,” Fat Asian added.
Jackie puffed up his feathers. “Weynolds is not Chan!”
“No Jackie,” I said quickly. “Reynolds is not Chan. What does Willy say?”
Fat Asian cocked his head. “He says… ‘Hey, bud.’ Then he says… ‘Sorry but I beat you to the … stash.’ Yup. It’s stash. ‘I have the drugs’. Hold on. I’m not sure here. Yes. That works. And the profits are mine. Wow. Willy has the drugs. Good for Willy.”
Jackie’s eyes grew huge. “My cousin has the dwugs!”
“Holy shit!” I said. “Willy has the drugs.”
Fat Asian scratched his head. “There’s more. He says, ‘You were out…out…out.’” He paused. “Give me a minute, will you?” He studied the paper hard. “I get it now. He says, ‘You were outfoxed. You were out of your league, buddy. Your friend, Wilbur.”
A wave of goose bumps swept over me. Willy had the drugs. Good for Willy, the super-crook. The computer-hacking genius had triumphed over his computer-hacking rival and had won the game. But he wasn’t going to be the winner for long if I had my way.
I handed the remaining money owed the code cracker. “Thanks, Fat Asian.”
“The name is Samuel,” he said stiffly.
“I’m sorry,” I stuttered. “It’s just that…”
Samuel cut me off. “I know. It’s what they call me. Chinatown is like that. But just so you know my name is Samuel and I like to be called by my name.”
“Samuel it is.” I offered my hand. “You are a highly skilled individual, Samuel. You need to be respected for that.”
He shook my hand forcefully.
“Just one question if you don’t mind.”
“Certainly.”
“There’s a good chance Reynolds will find you too. Have you had any contact with him?”
Samuel cackled. “Mini Chin has an appointment in half an hour. And since I’ve already cracked the code it will be the easiest five Ks I’ve ever earned.”
We could hear Samuel laughing as we made our way down to the first floor and out the front door.
Jackie Chan was bugging me. He wanted bubble tea. Bubble tea should be his reward for quick thinking and for recognizing Willy’s email so that Samuel could crack the code. He reminded me about how I could not read or write Chinese. Without him I’d be nowhere. Without him I’d be SOL. He deserved bubble tea and wasn’t going to stop bugging me until he got bubble tea. So, about ten bubble teas later, after I’d lugged him from the shop with his full belly dragging on the ground, we were cruising down the street and about to be rammed from behind.
I glanced into my rear-view mirror. Holy shit! There they were. The big boys, fresh out of hiding and obviously thirsty for blood. They were a strange looking foursome, I have to say. Barely visible above the dash, Shorty Poo was clinging to the steering wheel with the determination of a Pitbull. Richard sat tall in the wide back seat, flanked by evening shadows and Fat Freddie Fong. With Jack stowed away behind guards it seemed that Richard now wanted to soothe himself by settling for me.
I floored it. “Hang on, Wildman! We’re in for a ride.”
“Just like the movies!” Jackie squealed. He squinted into his side mirror. “One guys got a gun.”
“He does. Hopefully he doesn’t know how to use it.”
King Chin was dangling out of the passenger side of the vehicle, assault rifle in hand. If he dinted my Beemer I’d kill him. A few shots flew. Luckily, none of them in our direction. Then a fusillade into the night. Nothing. It seemed that guns were not King’s thing and that, as the rumor mill implied, King Kong Chin was better at butchering.
So, there we were, racing through Chinatown the yuppie way, in a Beemer convertible and a yellow Hummer, crashing into the Night Market and scaring shoppers to death. They weren’t laughing. To my advantage I could actually drive while Shorty had trouble staying within the lines. After leading him on a chase I ended up back on Pender Street where I gunned it. Shorty did too, crashing sideways through a vegetable stand and into a brick wall.
Jackie curled into a howling ball of conniptions. “This is so much fun, Amster! Sank you. Sank you wery much.”
Not that I’d planned the event but I accepted the compliment nevertheless. I sped away. “How do you say eat my dust in Chinese, Wildman?
He thought for a minute. “Nǐ tā mā de.”
“Nǐ tā mā de, Richard!” I said as best I could.
Jackie howled. “Do you know what you just said, Amster?”
“Eat my dust. My first Chinese words.”
“Not your first Chinese words. And don’t say them to Kow Gong. Your first Chinese words are fuck you. You just said fuck you to Richard.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
IT WAS PAST MIDNIGHT WHEN I crept into Tina’s room, tiptoed past Judith, who was snoring like Rip Van Winkle on a cot, and opened my book – a bible I’d lifted from a table down the hall. I read about armies and a lot of wars to Tina, who didn’t move an eyelash. Not much good stuff in the Old Testament, it seemed. Just a lot of dying. I tried to find Jonah and the Whale but failed. I therefore kissed Tina’s cheek before heading down the hall.
Jack was next on my hospital rounds. He was snoring, mouth wide open, so I poked him with my finger.
“Hamster,” he mumbled. “Good of you to come. Where have you been these past few days?”
“Hours, Jack. You’ve
been here less than twenty-four hours and I’ve been here twice. This is my third time.”
“My real son would have been here more.”
“Ok. I’ll leave then and send in your real son.”
Jack tried not to laugh. “You’re a pain in the ass, Hamster.” He struggled to sit up but rethought the matter. “I brought it on myself though. By stealing you from a family that actually wanted to adopt you. I just wanted a clone.”
I raised the head of his bed. “How’s that? You never said anything about this before. About a family wanting me.”
“They were professors. They wanted to experiment on you. Tie your hand behind your back to make you right handed.”
I shot up in my chair. “Why?”
“Because they could.”
“That’s cruel. I can’t do anything with my right hand.”
“That’s because you haven’t had to. This couple would have changed your life. They would have made you ambidextrous and you could have carried a pistol on both sides. Think of the possibilities.”
“You’re full of shit.”
He giggled. Then groaned. “I can still tell a good story can’t I, Hamster?”
What do they say about a pillow over the face? “No.”
We sat there in silence for a while, Jack dozing off and me wanting to do the same. I poked him again. “Is there anything you’d like to tell me, Jack? Like, about a drug heist?”
His eyes crinkled at the corners. “I just told you a bedtime story. That’s it for tonight.”
“What if I told you that your attacker ended up in the morgue? Mutilated. And that Richard Chang is now after me.”
“I’d say that pretty much sucks.”
“And?”
“And that I can’t help you. I’m a bit wounded in case you haven’t noticed.”
“Cut the crap, Jack. I need help and I need it now.”
Again Jack tried to shift his weight but couldn’t.
“Ok.” He sighed. “You got me. It didn’t go as planned. Your buddy got greedy.”
“That much I already know. I just want to know how you could stoop so low.”
“Not for the reasons you might think.”
“And?”
“You’re sounding like a stuck record, Hamster. And? And? And Willy has the heroin, that’s all I know. I don’t know where he has it. You’re the detective. Figure it out. You know Willy better than anyone. What’s his game?”
Light bulb! All I had to do was think like Willy.
Pearson Warehouse had two night guards, one patrolling the grounds with serious dogs and one stationed inside. The inside guard had previously worked for Jack so I knew his drill but the outside guard worried me some. He was big and burley, hairier than his Rottweilers, and carried a rifle. So, as per my instinct, which I should have heeded, my first attempt fizzled. Burley fired at me, his dogs tore my pants while my balls ended up on top of the fence. Second try, after I could walk, I carried a crowbar and enough tranquilizer darts to level a herd of elephants. I lured the puppies to the back yard for beefsteak before sneaking up behind big burley guy and clunking him on the head. He went down in a heap. I then entered the warehouse where I startled Franco who was perched at a packing table playing solitaire all by himself. Joke.
“Boo!”
Franco leapt into the air like a flying frog. “Jesus, Hampton! You scared me! What the hell are you doing here?” Franco was about the best-looking warehouse guard in town. He had dark eyes, brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, and six-pack abs achieved from working out in a warehouse at night with not much else to do. Girls swooned over the could-be Calvin Klein model but Franco was a family man.
I pulled out a wad of bills. “Do you think you could just ignore me for a while?”
He watched me peel off five hundreds.”
“Not for that much.”
I peeled off five more.”
“Double that and we’ve got a deal.”
“Deal. Take a stroll into the office Franco and I’ll find you when I’m done.”
He shoved the money into his pocket. “I won’t get into trouble over this, will I Charlie?”
“How could you? I was never here.”
I started up and down the aisles. Peter would love this warehouse, I was thinking, with all the toys on shelves — computers, jumbo televisions, electronics of every kind — just begging to be lifted. The pallet of goods under a tarp at the back of the warehouse was of most interest to me. It was hidden behind a stack of empty crates but I easily scrambled over the barrier, cut the ropes with my butterfly knife, and tore the cover away. Oil drums. A half-dozen of them clearly out of place in a warehouse filled with electronics. Might they be double barreled? Be still my racing heart!
Chapter Twenty-Three
SLEEPING IN MY OWN BED was causing a weird, reoccurring dream that kept waking me up in a sweat. I’m on my way to Mexico in my new yacht and Jillian, tanned and gorgeous in a string bikini, is along for the ride. We’re happy together, likely for the first time ever, and are planning our future around the heroin stash in the false bottom of the craft. Then the chase begins. Richard and entourage are closing in behind us in a coastguard boat with machine guns on the sides. I wake up with a thumping heart. It’s like that when you’ve made a conscious decision to live on the edge. It’s like that when you have forty million dollars worth of heroin stuffed into the trunk of your car.
Jack was sitting up in bed when I strolled into his room and casually pulled up a chair. “Hey, Jack. Want to talk drugs?”
He shot me a glare. “Ok, Hamster. What have you done? You have a smug smile on your face.”
I smiled even more smugly. “I got lucky last night.”
“Right. Like I need to hear about your sex life. Give me a break.”
“It wasn’t sex. It was something better.”
His eyes grew wide. “The heroin?” he whispered.
I nodded. “I have it,” I whispered back. “And I have the option of keeping it myself which is damn tempting. Or, I can turn it in and at least get you out on bail. You had little reason to off Leo without my find, since you’d been granted an injunction by the courts to thwart the takeover.”
Jack took an angry turn. “You took something belonging to me.”
“Correction. I took something belonging to Richard Chang. You stole it from him.”
“You’re not going to give it back to him, are you?”
“No. I’m not. I’m going to use it to negotiate. Negotiate for your life.”
“I’ll be out a lot of money.”
“No, Willy will be out a lot of money. Technically you never had it. Besides, even if it was yours it wouldn’t do you much good dead. Do you think Richard Chang is going to back off? He’s after me now. And he’ll be back after you as soon as those two guards are gone from your door. But don’t feel too ripped off, Jack. Richard has to give up the stash too. That’s part of the deal.”
Jack went all snooty. “Well, I guess it’s your call.”
“It is.”
Tony arranged the meeting. It was to be held at Richard’s Point Grey hideaway and I would come alone, as usual. Tony said that Richard said he wondered what had taken me so long so I guessed he thought I was coming to beg for a couple of lives. Right. I parked my car in the driveway and managed to make my way up the weaving path through the bramble bushes. I waved to the assault rifles and the dogs barked back.
Shorty Poo had the whiskey already poured when I strolled through the door past the scrutiny of King Chin. I nodded. King bowed. He was checking out my holster. Seated in a chair by the unlit fireplace, Richard motioned to the matching one.
“Good of you to come, Charlie,” he said in his pleasant English accent.
I nodded. “Richard.”
Shorty Poo puffed over with my tumbler of whiskey on a tray.
“Thanks. Goon.”
Shorty bowed. His English hadn’t improved much.
Richard glared at me
. “You think you’re very funny don’t you, Charlie?”
“Jack says hello.”
He shifted in his chair. “Quite right.”
“This isn’t a social visit. I’m here to cut you a deal.”
Richard widened his falcon-like eyes. “Mr. Jones for Willy?”
“Not quite. Mr. Jones for your ass.”
Richard choked on his booze. King Chin, who spoke broken English, straightened his stance while Shorty looked confused. Was this not supposed to be a party?
“You see, Richard,” I said in my wise-guy tone. “I have something belonging to you and I’m going to turn it in. And as I see it I can do that in one of two ways. I can turn it in and finger you. Or, I can turn it in and not finger you. The choice is yours.”
We slipped into a mutual silence. Shorty was breathing down my neck now, a sturdy chain close by, I figured. And behind Richard, King was mentally sharpening his knife with his thumb. Freddie, as usual, was napping in his chair. “What proof do I have? Only your word? That’s a bit silly isn’t it, Charlie?”
I plucked a baggie of heroin from my pocket and tossed it on the black lacquered table. “Test it. It’s pure. It’s from your shipment.”
“And what if you don’t leave this house tonight? What then?”
“I’ve left instructions with Tony Chan. There will be consequences. If I go you go.”
“I have a private jet. I can leave tonight.”
“You’re right. You can. But you won’t be safe in Beijing either. And you’ll never be able to come back. Is that what you want?”
We locked eyes. It would be difficult, if not impossible, for Richard to operate his North American businesses, legal or otherwise, from Beijing, especially with Leo and Willy gone.
He rose from his chair. “You leave me no choice. But picture this, Charlie. Picture Jack in a coffin because next time I shan’t fail.” He glared at me through cold dark eyes. “And also picture this. You lying beside him.”
Jackie Chan turned laughing into a science. His whole body laughed, beginning with a grin and ending in a full-blown ball of conniptions. He was in this position when I arrived to pack up the monitor in the suite below Reynolds Woo.
Jack in a Box Page 10
