Black Planet: Tiger Eyes

by Belinda McBride

  Ghosts. Outsiders. Not every person that entered Chinatown was a gweilo. Some belonged, even if they weren't Chinese.

  "Big guys. One had black hair, curly-like. The other, he's dark too, but his hair was pulled back under his coat. Very big man."

  "Cops, maybe?"

  "Yeah, maybe. But with long hair? I don't know. They been coming around for a couple weeks now. Want me to find out more?"

  "If you can without tipping me. Maybe they're just selling insurance or something."

  David snorted in amusement.

  He checked the transfusion and then returned to her needles. “Your body's fightin’ this, Gracie. Fightin’ hard. You doing that Qi Gong your grandpa teaches?"

  "No, David. It's been a long time.” And she had been young and arrogant. Why would she have wanted to learn the exercise for the sick and infirm?

  "Stupid girl. I'll teach you, but quick-like. Gotta get back to the store."

  "M goi, Sifu Mok."

  "No need for thanks, Gracie. And I'm not your Sifu."

  "I'm learning from you, David. And you're keeping me going after I should have stopped."

  "That's just ‘cause of what your grandpa taught me. Can't let my Sifu down."

  Funny how things all come full circle. Once upon a time Guo Lee had taught this man, and now this man was saving her life. Well, sustaining it, anyway.

  The question was ... why?

  Lately, it seemed like everyone was fighting to save Grace. Well, except for the people who were trying to kill her.

  * * * *

  "I've heard of this place, but how are we supposed to get inside?"

  Darah and Greene stood on the shattered remains of the Embarcadero, the twisted wreckage of the Bay Bridge to the south, Wharf directly in front of them. Darah stifled an involuntary shiver. Ghettos and slums didn't exist on his planet, and this had to be the worst he'd seen on Earth. Secretly, he'd flown over the place, shocked by the crowded conditions, amazed by the teeming life inside.

  The wall stood well over eight feet high, the top littered with broken glass, twists of rusted razor wire and any other defensive materials the residents inside could conjure up. If they tried to scale the wall, they'd probably be nailed by salt from someone's ancient shotgun long before they reached the hazards at the top.

  Greene suspected there were holes and other weak spots under the walls where residents passed through narrow, guarded gateways. Unfortunately, nobody would mistake the two men as residents of Wharf.

  If they managed to get past the wall, they still had to penetrate the city itself with its smooth, bland façade and blank windows.

  Fortunately, Greene knew exactly where he was going and how to get there.

  "We'll go in from Bay side. I can bribe someone to take us by boat right up to the underbelly of the place."

  It was creepy, dark and smelly, but last year, Aiden Chen had given Greene the keys to the kingdom, as well as to his and Annie's homes. Greene came in about once a month to check the places, and to make sure that Annie's garden was growing well. He gestured at Darah to follow and headed down to the docks on the waterfront.

  Darah had proven to be invaluable in the search for Grace. They'd combed the streets from Mission to North Beach, up into the Nob Hill district, only catching the occasional hint that she'd been around. Payday had come in Chinatown. According to the Thalian, many knew her, had seen her recently, but nobody knew where she'd vanished to.

  And everyone who'd spoken with them carried concern for the woman.

  They'd finally located her tiny apartment and broken through the locks. Clearly, the place had been abandoned abruptly. What little food remained had rotted. Her few items of clothing were rugged and high quality; leathers and boots and fight-wear. Nothing she'd have willingly left behind. Darah had carefully packed it all in a rucksack that he now carried over his broad shoulder.

  Darah had picked up a small carved figure; it was a jade dragon. Milo remembered seeing its twin in Aiden's loft, next to the neatly made bed.

  That was when he'd gotten the idea to visit Wharf. Like Aiden, she'd spent years there as a child, learning from her Chinese family. Unlike Aiden, her tastes ran to the wild and the dangerous even as a teen, but she had always cherished her Wharf roots.

  She'd entered the same training program that Milo had recruited for, and their affair had been brief and tumultuous. Milo had explored the darker side of pleasure with Grace Chen. It was natural that she'd enter the deepest of the undercover programs. She was on the payroll of the police, but not bound by the rules of the department. He'd checked lately, and her bank accounts were intact. She'd made no withdrawals in years.

  And if she had used the money in her account, no doubt the Yakuza would have been on her in minutes. Nakashima's influence ran broad and deep.

  Once they reached water level, Greene walked with purpose, past fishermen and the occasional commuter boat, finally coming to a stop in front of a decrepit looking craft that seemed somewhat less than seaworthy.

  "Hey, Marlin!"

  A string of curses rolled up from inside the cabin, and in a few moments a rugged looking man in greasy clothes emerged, a rag in one hand, a wrench in the other.

  "Oh ... hey, Lieutenant..."

  He didn't look as pleased as he sounded. A shock of grey hair fell over faded blue eyes. Deep down was the ingrained fear that ocean-going folk always carried.

  "Cappie?"

  Greene smiled. “Not here about him. I imagine he's halfway between there and here by now."

  The man's relief was immediate. He and Cappie had been together for years. Their fiery affair was the stuff of local legend.

  "I'm looking for a favor."

  "A ride? Same price as usual."

  Greene nodded and handed over a folded bill, smiling slightly as the other man glanced over his shoulder and palmed it. Marlin liked the high drama, as though he was participating in some covert operation. Milo didn't mind indulging. In truth, the locals would probably skin the fisherman if they knew he was smuggling outsiders into Wharf.

  He stepped onto the boat, smiling as Darah gingerly followed. The Thalian lurched a bit before catching his balance, staring distrustfully at the dirty boat, and then at the equally dirty water. Without his wings to use as balance, he was at a disadvantage on the boat.

  When they'd come across the Bay in Milo's sleek jet boat, he'd been alternately thrilled and terrified. The Thalians were of the air, not the water.

  The ride was short but complicated by flotsam and jetsam and very real hazards in the water. Marlin skillfully moved them around pilings and moldering wreckage before coming to an idle underneath an old ladder. “You need me to wait?"

  "Yeah, if you would.” He handed over another bill, and then watched as Marlin tied off, keeping the boat as steady as possible.

  "We're climbing up there.” He pointed to a small square of wood that opened out into a little used alley in Wharf. Greene easily reached the lower rung of the ladder and began his climb, pausing to be certain that Darah was following.

  He went hand over hand up the slippery rails, pausing to slip a key into the lock that secured the trap door. It was rusty, but it worked. Greene paused to look around before taking that last step out into the alley, and then he turned, giving his hand to Darah.

  The Thalian emerged from the hole in the street, rising up, wiping his hands free of algae and grease. He looked around, taking in the dim light shafting from far overhead, the narrow alley, the mounds of garbage piled in abandoned doorways.

  "This, my friend, is territory known to very few people in this world. Welcome to Wharf."

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  Chapter Six

  The first thing that struck Darah was the smell; cooking and fish and decaying garbage. But to his surprise, it wasn't as foul as he'd expected it to be. In moments, the smell was overwhelmed by the noise.

  He heard children shouting and laughing, adults talking in a myriad of lang
uages, the cacophony of thousands of people all cooped up in a space much too small to hold them all. He heard dogs barking and music blaring. He heard babies crying, and that sound pulled at the deep place in his soul.

  They started at the bottom level. In dingy corners and in alleys he saw drunks and drug addicts passed out, or nervously awaiting their next fix. He saw addled whores, both male and female, kneeling on the floor giving blow jobs for loose change or a bottle of beer.

  As they ascended, level by level, the tone of the place changed, and businesses began to crop up. Some looked decrepit and disreputable. As they moved, suspicious eyes followed them, but Greene moved with confidence, ignoring the unspoken threats. They traveled up ladders, over rickety boards that served as bridges, and along narrow ledges.

  "Wharf rats can run these pathways at full speed, after dark."

  Darah shook his head in amazement.

  "Watch the electric lines, some of them are live, others are dummies. Also, before you cross a ramp, check to make sure it hasn't been sabotaged. Now that the Lees are gone, the gangs are beginning to crop up here and there. That's how they mark their territory."

  Darah felt his heart drop more than once as his weight made the flimsy boards groan under his feet. Finally, he slipped off the long coat he wore, letting his wings expand. Not only was he now prepared for a fall, they helped his balance. That improved his mood greatly.

  The journey was nerve-wracking and seemingly endless, but eventually, they slipped into the window of an old building and walked down a long, decrepit hallway.

  "Your friend lived here? Willingly?"

  Greene smiled at the amazement in his voice. He paused and surveyed the giant sliding door. The tiny paper he'd placed in the doorway was gone, telling him that the door had been disturbed.

  "Someone's been here. Likely it was Grace, but still..."

  He pulled his sidearm, and Darah did likewise. Greene's gun fired good old-fashioned bullets. He still wasn't sure what the Thalian weapons did. He'd never seen one used. It was small and sleek with an ergonomic curve to the handle.

  He stood back and rolled the door open, keeping it between him and the room. Nothing moved inside. Slowly, carefully, he entered, scanning the space. Darah followed, his movements cautious and quick.

  "It's empty."

  "Yes, but our girl's been here."

  He holstered his pistol and entered the loft, his shoes ringing on the hardwood floor. He moved to the training area where beads of water were still scattered on the porcelain of the therapeutic tub. A damp towel was draped over a straight-backed chair.

  "Maybe one in twenty places has running water, and those are usually businesses. The rest of the people get their water from community spigots.” The water alone made this place priceless, not to mention the sheer size of it.

  Moving in further, he checked the giant futon bed. The twin to the dragon from Grace's apartment was sitting on the bedside table.

  "Look."

  He glanced over, Darah was holding up a pair of leather chaps. Jeans, a leather jacket and knee-high boots were carefully placed nearby. A stiff leather bustier brought blood rushing to his cock, and he firmly tamped down the arousal. A flash of Grace in an impossibly tight leather corset came to mind, as did an image of her in glossy vinyl thigh-high boots. Her lips were blood red, her golden cat-eyes lazy and tempting. She loved to play naughty.

  Again, he forced his brain back to business.

  It was probably the only outfit she'd brought with her. And it was practical. The leathers were sturdy, battle-scarred.

  The men's eyes met and they both looked over at the bathroom. Milo crossed the floor, half expecting to hear the shower running, but the room was empty.

  "Well, I suppose we could go looking for her.” Darah set down the pack he'd brought from her place. Milo watched him slowly explore the loft. “She might have headed out somewhere, maybe for food."

  Darah had wandered into the kitchen. Milo followed him, looking over his broad shoulder at the contents of the refrigerator.

  "Lots of proteins. And Chinese herbs.” He frowned at the script, unable to read the labeling. He opened a cupboard and found a packet of herbal pills that he recognized as being for muscle pain.

  A calendar hung on the wall. She'd made notes in Chinese, but once a week, the same day was noted with a time. A recurring appointment every Thursday? He sighed and turned away, wishing he had someone to translate.

  Sensing his frustration, Darah reached out and pulled him close, letting him go after a quick hug. “We'll find her. Can you think of anyplace she might go for company? To pass the time?"

  Greene shook his head.

  "Well, we can wait here. She's bound to show up sometime."

  But that felt wrong. Aiden's urgency had been palpable, and they'd wasted weeks canvassing the streets looking for her.

  "Look, there's a place I need to check on, Annie Tanaka's apartment. She left me in charge of her garden. Let's head over there, and then come back and check again."

  Darah nodded, following Milo out the door, which he relocked. Together, they walked back down the dirty hallway, out the window, and were once again in the filthy grandeur of Wharf.

  * * * *

  The pain had jolted her from sleep, and had driven her outside into the cool Bay air. Now, Grace huddled on the deck chair shivering. It was fever; she'd developed an infection.

  "Not doing so good?"

  "Grandpa?” She squinted and moved her head a bit to the side. Her vision had evolved once more. He was sitting on the low cinder block wall just yards away. How had he arrived so quietly? He took a pull on his cigarette, and suddenly, Grace could smell smoke. She hadn't smelled it until she saw him exhale.

  Hallucination.

  "Oh, I'm real enough, but maybe not really here.” He smiled and looked out over the ocean. “Well, Tiger, you got yourself into a mess."

  "The Dragon found me. I didn't go looking."

  "I wasn't talking about the Dragon. I'm talking about those gangs."

  "Oh, yeah. Them.” She laid her head back against the wood of the chair.

  "I know about Nakashima. He's after you ‘cause of Aiden and Annie. But what about those Red Flag fellas? You blow your cover with them?"

  "You knew?"

  "I had a pretty good idea. You were a hothead, but not bad. And not stupid. So what happened?"

  She shivered and pulled the blanket closer around her shoulders. She had no idea what a warm, dry blanket was doing out here, but didn't question her luck. “I made a bad choice, Grandpa. A very, very bad choice."

  The tip of his cigarette glowed, and then smoke trailed from between his chiseled lips. She knew he wasn't real. His hair was still jet black, his face unlined. But then his appearance hadn't changed in all the years of her childhood, so maybe he was indeed real.

  "Making bad choices is part of life, Tiger.” Her heart warmed at the nickname. Nobody called her that but Grandpa.

  "But most people don't make choices that could cost lives.” She dropped her gaze, ashamed to confess to Guo Lee, but knowing she must. “When the force collapsed, I should have gone in. I should have gone with the others to safety. But I stayed."

  "And not for the right reasons."

  No, the right reasons would have been to gather information on the gang, to continue her position undercover.

  "For the wrong reasons. I fell in love."

  "What makes you think falling in love is the wrong reason?"

  "I fell in love with Tyreese Gonzales. He was the new head of the Red Flags."

  He sat quietly, considering her words.

  "I thought we'd be forever. I lost all sense of right and wrong there for a while.” They'd trained her for many things but not the sense of belonging, of family.

  "What happened?"

  She sat and considered that night, that last horrific night. “He executed someone. A kid from Chinatown.” She shifted uncomfortably. “He didn't know anything. I doub
t he was even Triad. But Ty wouldn't give him a chance."

  She remembered the expression of stark fear on the boy's face. He hadn't seen his eighteenth year yet. He'd cried out, calling for his mother in Cantonese.

  "I tried to intervene, and Ty turned this look on me. I knew then ... I knew that he saw me as a threat, not a lover. I knew that the man I loved was going to kill me."

  "But you still loved him?"

  She shook her head, a smile on her face. “I knew at that moment that I loved my life a hell of a lot more than I loved him. What he didn't know was that I was already sick."

  "Bad choice in love. There's worse things, I suppose."

  She looked at him then, taken aback by the sheer beauty of the man. He was handsome, ancient but young. High cheekbones looked carved into his face; his eyes were alternately wide and expressive, and then hooded and mysterious.

  "I made a mistake once. That's why I'm still around.” He stubbed out the cigarette, resting his hand on his cotton clad knee. “I joined a gang too, when I was a kid. Back then, there wasn't much choice. You joined or got killed. Grew up Triad, old school."

  She sat very still, very quiet. As far as she knew, Guo Lee never shared his past with anyone.

  "I lived that way a long time, didn't know anything else, till I met a woman. I fell in love."

  "There must have been others."

  He rose, walking slowly to where an orchid hung from the wall, its flower white and pristine. “There were others. I was close on to forty when I met her. She was a school teacher. She had a clean heart, only saw the good in me even though she knew what I did.” He smiled gently. “I started looking at my life out of her eyes. The old Triad rules had gone away, and these younger fellows just wanted money, status. The way I grew up, the cops were enemies, other gangs were enemies. Innocent folk were off limits.” He stroked the leaf of the orchid and turned to face his granddaughter.

  "One day, a fight broke out. It was in a park. My boss used an innocent woman as a shield. She was old, but not ready to die. He took her life that morning. And I ... snapped. And I did the unthinkable. I attacked my Triad boss."

  "You killed him?"