“She’s hot,” Chee Wei said. “Why isn’t she calling my number?”
Ryker smiled but dismissed the girl from his thoughts, until she turned to look back toward the building and he saw the fear etched in her young-old face as she spoke rapidly into her cell phone. Her gaze flicked from the building onto Ryker and Chee Wei. She stared at them blankly for long seconds before she turned away and broke into a run.
“Got her,” Chee Wei said, running back up the alley like an Olympic sprinter. Ryker kept his eyes on the Mercedes and the building. And before he knew it, his thoughts turned to Valerie Lin. He wondered idly why he even bothered thinking of her; there was no chance that she would even deign to give him the time of day under normal circumstances. And he was convinced the last thing on her mind would be fucking the horny white guy who’d dropped by to tell her that her husband was dead.
Chee Wei reappeared with the blue-haired girl, who stopped struggling and shouting in Chinese when he shoved his badge into her face. Her eyes crossed in almost comical surprise. He had her cell phone. Ryker crossed the alleyway and repositioned himself so he could still watch the Mercedes, while listening to what they were saying.
“Talk English! Where do you think you are, a shit boat in Hong Kong harbor?”
“Big-shot cop!” she snarled back. “So what are you, third, fourth-generation cocksucker?” She threw Ryker a distasteful look. “Working for a white. You wash his laundry too?”
Chee Wei slapped her. She put a hand to her cheek and glared at him. “Who were you calling?” he demanded. She tried to snatch the phone out of his hand but he was too fast for her, jerking it away again and again, enjoying her rising anger. “Are you deaf? I said, who were you calling?”
“My girlfriend. She eats me out better than you ever could. Give me back my phone, I paid good money for it, it’s mine.”
“What’s your name?” Ryker said.
She stared at him, weighing him up. “Suzy.”
He didn’t believe her, but that didn’t matter. “Tell us what we want to know and you can leave, Suzy. We’re not busting you. We just want to know why these guys are here.”
“How should I know?” She tried to pull away from Chee Wei but he had a firm grip on her leather jacket. “Let me go. I’ve done nothing wrong.”
Ryker held out his hand and Chee Wei gave him the phone. It was a different make from his but the menus were the same. He checked the last outgoing call. “Who’s going to answer if I press the button?”
“I called wrong number. They told me to fuck off, never call again.”
“You should be on television,” Chee Wei said. He let go of her and held up his hands, palms outward. “I didn’t want you to run away, that’s all.”
She rubbed her shoulder. “Big-shot cop. You like to treat girls rough? Hit them around?”
“Maybe I don’t like being called a cocksucker.”
Ryker offered her the phone. She hesitated, as if wary he’d play the same game as Chee Wei, but he let her take it. She slipped it into her purse. “Who did you call?” he asked.
He gave her time to consider the question. “They’re looking for a friend. She used to come here.”
“You tried to warn her?”
“She didn’t answer. I left a message.”
“You rent one of these apartments?” Chee Wei asked.
“No....”
“Then who does?”
“Just a couple of guys I know. We party sometimes.”
Ryker would have pressed her for more information but at that moment the big guy and the three Chinese emerged from the building and climbed back into the Mercedes. Ryker was torn between running for the car and following them, and going into the building to talk to whoever might be in there. He chose the latter, following his gut instinct that there was more to this than Suzy was prepared to reveal.
“They’ve gone,” he said. “You can go back inside now.”
“I got other things to do right now. Maybe later.”
Ryker took her gently by the arm and walked her to the building. She resisted at first, then gave in, realizing it wouldn’t do any good. Chee Wei followed them, grinning. The Mercedes was long gone. Suzy led the way along a short, dark hallway. Steps led up to the second floor. A door lay ajar. Lights were on inside. Suzy hesitated, then took a deep breath and called out, “Roger? You okay?”
“Who’s there?” a high-pitched voice said from inside the apartment. The door opened and a middle aged man with wavy blond hair stared blankly at Ryker and Chee Wei. He wore a beige silk shirt and held a bloody handkerchief to his nose. “Suzy, darling. We were wondering where you’d got to. One moment you were here…who are these friends of yours?”
“Cops,” Suzy said.
“You went and fetched the cavalry! How wonderful, even if it is too late. The Indians have withdrawn back to their reservation. We’re still alive, thank God. They didn’t even scalp us.”
Ryker showed his badge. “Detective Sergeant Ryker, S.F.P.D. This is Detective Fong. The four men who just left. Who are they, and what did they want?”
A crash of breaking glass came from inside. Ryker drew his Glock and pushed past Roger who spluttered in protest but couldn’t do or say anything to stop Ryker before he entered the apartment’s living room, which had been converted into a film set. Lights and reflectors surrounded a king-size bed. There were two digital cameras, one lying on the floor with its thin tripod legs bent. The other had been thrown onto the bed alongside a Chinese girl with pink highlights in her hair, who covered herself with a sheet and sobbed quietly, her face turned away from them. Electrical cables covered the floor. Every socket in the room was in use, as were the pendant light fittings whose bulbs had been removed to allow extension cables to hang down. A very suntanned man who could be anywhere from fifty to sixty-five years of age knelt on the floor, tears running down his face as he gingerly picked up broken pieces of glass from a lamp that had evidently toppled.
“For goodness sake Vincent, leave that alone, you’ll only hurt yourself,” Roger said. He stepped over cables and helped the suntanned man, Vincent, to stand. “These gentlemen are police officers.”
“Bloody hell, that’s what I call a quick response,” Vincent said. His accent was either Australian or New Zealander, Ryker couldn’t tell which.
“Now you’ve cut your hand, stupid,” Roger said. He applied his handkerchief to the wound. Ryker supposed it didn’t matter that the handkerchief was already stained with blood; he guessed that Roger and Vincent exchanged fluids on a regular basis. He put his gun away.
Chee Wei turned to look at Suzy, who folded her arms, leaned back against the door frame and jutted her chin out as if daring him to question what she did here. Ryker could imagine what the movie’s title might be. Blue On Pink. Or maybe Pink On Blue. Or maybe, hell, Pink In Blue. Thinking about it made his eyes water.
“We’re not Hollywood, God knows,” Roger said, “but we do our best.”
“So,” Vincent said, sitting down and holding his hand. “What are you going to do about those bastards? Walking in here as if they own the place. Smashing our stuff. Knocking poor Roger around. Aren’t you going to arrest them?”
“They were looking for someone,” Ryker said. “I want to know who.”
The pink-haired girl in the bed sat up, revealing creamy white breasts topped with dark nipples the size of silver dollars. The entire left side of her face was livid, as if she’d been slapped hard, or punched. She directed a stream of angry words at Suzy, who bowed her head and looked away. Ryker recalled passing a bathroom on the way in. Maybe Suzy had hid in there when the unexpected guests arrived, and ran out the door when they weren’t looking. Whatever, the pink-haired girl wasn’t pleased with her, and he didn’t need Chee Wei to translate.
“Cover yourself up, there’s a good girl,” Roger said. She scowled at him and pulled the sheet higher. “They thought she was Juicy Lucy, poor dear,” Roger told Ryker. “They became very ups
et when I told them she wasn’t here. Fortunately they believed me. It could have been much worse, I suppose.”
“Who,” Ryker said, feeling as if he’d slipped into a surreal dimension, “is Juicy Lucy?”
“Oops.” Roger covered his mouth with his hand, and giggled. “It’s just our little nickname. She’s a sweet girl really. Her real name is...and I’m not sneezing, before you say anything...Xiaohui. There, I think I’ve pronounced it correctly. Suzy darling, how did I do?”
Suzy looked anything but pleased. “What do you want with her?” Suzy asked Ryker. “Why did they come looking for her?” She sat down on the bed and put her arm around the pink-haired girl, who at first tried to shrug her off, but then allowed the contact.
“That’s a very good question,” Roger said. “Why indeed?”
“Get me a beer, Roj, will you?” Vincent said. “My hand’s killing me.”
“He says he was in the Australian S.A.S.,” Roger whispered to Ryker on his way to the adjoining kitchen. “Girl Guides, more like.”
“I heard that,” Vincent called after him. “You only had to say the word, Roj. I would have taken them out. All of them.”
“To dinner?” Roger called from the kitchen. He opened the fridge, took out a beer bottle and popped the cap with a practiced downward stroke, spilling not a single drop.
Suzy spoke softly to the pink-haired girl in Chinese and kissed her on the cheek. It took Ryker all his will power to tear his gaze away from them. “Do you know where this Xiaohui is?” he said, rolling his tongue around the unfamiliar syllables. “Did you tell them?”
“I’m afraid our Juicy Lucy has gone up in the world,” Roger said, passing the beer bottle to Vincent. “We don’t see much of her any more. Just a couple of months ago she lay on that very bed with her legs wide open. What was the name of that film, Vincent?”
“I dunno,” Vincent said. He swallowed a mouthful of beer. “But she was a right good little actress. Then she met some bloke. Must have had money. Suddenly two hundred and fifty dollars is chicken feed to her. She turned down the next job too, and it was a sequel. They always do well.”
“At least she wasn’t bitchy about it or anything,” Roger added. He delicately touched his nose and inspected his finger. “We told Arnold bloody Schwarzenegger he should ask someone at the Snake Bite if they knew where she was. She used to work there, as a dancer.”
Ryker knew the bar, a waterfront dive popular with tourists looking for a good time.
“Forget the dolly bird, what are you going to do about this?” Vincent said, using his beer bottle as a pointer to indicate the fallen camera and broken light. Almost as an afterthought he also indicated the pink-haired girl. “Can’t let the buggers get away with it. Why don’t you get on the blower and call in a SWAT team or something? Put a cap up their arses. Serve them bloody well right.”
“All right. But you can’t touch anything before forensics photographs the evidence. And the investigators will want to talk to all the witnesses.” Roger and Vincent both looked at the pink-haired girl, who rested her head on Suzy’s shoulder while Suzy stroked her hair. Friends again.
“Ah, well,” Roger said. “That could prove difficult. Our little Lotus Blossom here doesn’t speak a word of English.”
“I’ll be happy to translate,” Chee Wei said.
Suzy shook her head almost imperceptibly. The gesture was intended for Roger but Ryker picked it up and knew the matter wouldn’t be pursued with the police.
“Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary. The damage really isn’t too severe. And we’ll pay our lead actress danger money to make up for her discomfort. Won’t we, Vincent?” Vincent nodded eagerly. “So, detective sergeant, now that you have the name of the person those thugs were after, what will you do?” Roger asked, smoothly changing the subject.
“I think we need to find her before they do,” Ryker said. “For her own protection.” Suzy got the message. She said something to the other girl, then got up off the bed and went out into the hallway. “We’ll see ourselves out.”
“Our pleasure to have met you, I’m sure,” Roger said.
Ryker followed Suzy into the hallway. She was waiting for them by the front door. Chee Wei was only a step behind him. “Fucking gays,” he said, his whisper every bit as loud as his normal voice. “All that pussy and they don’t know what to do with it! She’s a minor. We can close them down.”
“People gotta eat,” Ryker told him.
“Would you say that if she was white?”
Ryker stopped so suddenly that Chee Wei almost ran into him.
“Okay, hold on,” Chee Wei said. “I’m gonna be picking shoe leather out of my teeth for weeks. I shouldn’t have said that. Dumb fuck thing to say. Forget it, will you?”
But Suzy was waiting to hear his reply, so Ryker gave her one. “The question is would I rather she sold her ass out on the street? The answer’s no. She’s better off here, doing tricks for a pair of queers more likely to mother her than do her harm.”
He stepped up to Suzy. Their eyes were almost level thanks to her boot heels. She was undeniably beautiful but her friend back there in the makeshift film studio had drawn his attention to Suzy’s age. Looks were deceiving; she could be young enough to be his daughter, which was the biggest turn off he could think of on such short notice.
“What else can you tell me?” he said.
“Her name is Zhu Xiaohui,” she said. “She has an apartment. It’s not far. She could be there. But if she knows someone is looking for her? Maybe she’ll stay with her sister.”
Ryker took out his notepad, flipped it open and offered it to her along with a pen.
CHAPTER 8
Shanghai, People’s Republic of China
There were advantages to owning a multinational corporation that dealt in advanced electronics, chief among which was the near guarantee of totally secure communications. Somewhere above the world a satellite owned wholly by Lin Industries looked down upon them and beamed encoded signals from continent to continent. New compression techniques meant that delay was almost non-existent and both parties could speak in real time without any irritating pauses. Sound quality was also enhanced, so that every nuance of tone and emotion came through clearly. They might as well be sitting in the same room, Chen Gui thought, as Lin Yubo’s voice lashed him from 6,000 miles away, and rightly so, considering what might easily have gone wrong and how much they could have lost in Japan, in terms of both wealth and face.
The tirade continued for nearly two minutes. Chen Gui feared his boss would faint because of lack of oxygen to the brain, but he went on without pause and apparently without the need to draw breath.
“—And that nephew of yours,” Lin Yubo said. “How much of this unnecessary confrontation with the Fujianese was his doing?”
Chen Gui resisted the temptation to blame it all on Chen Song. That might possibly lead to unfortunate and fatal repercussions. Chen Gui didn’t particularly like Chen Song’s mother, but she had a tongue that could cut through silk and a vindictive streak that was to be feared. She would never give him a moment’s peace if anything were to happen to her beloved son. Even though, if there was anyone on the Asian continent who deserved to suddenly disappear without trace, it was the incompetent wretch Chen Song whose foolishness had almost cost Chen Gui his reputation, his position, and his life.
“Many factors contributed to the situation, Lin Yubo,” Chen Gui said, pushing the temptation aside. “Some were beyond our control. Of course our people in Tokyo should have assessed what was happening, and reported this so we had more time to prepare an appropriate response. And the yakuza, aiyah. So much distrust there. They gave us no warning, even though they must have known something was amiss.” He waited for his boss to comment but the speakerphone was as silent as a tiger stalking its prey. Chen Gui wiped his forehead with his handkerchief and said, “Thankfully the matter has been resolved with only minimal loss. I was able to take steps to avoid the bumbling Fuji
anese peasants, and also inflict irreparable damage upon their Tokyo organization.”
Lin Yubo said, “What are you talking about?”
Chen Gui savored the moment. “Our limited resources in Tokyo had already been decimated by the time I arrived. While my nephew organized a retaliatory strike to distract and delay the Fujianese, I engaged the services of a professional. An outsider, who has no connection with us and cannot be traced.”
“You know my feelings concerning mercenaries.” Lin Yubo’s disapproving tone made Chen Gui imagine an executioner stepping up to a wooden chopping block, an ax gleaming in his hands.
“I have used this man before, Lin Yubo, and knew he could be trusted. Also, he was available immediately. He lives in Tokyo but is above suspicion. Neither the police nor the intelligence services have any interest in him, his cover is entirely legitimate. While the Fujianese foundered like fish out of water, he spirited us safely away from Japan. Nothing was left to chance. Then he initiated the second half of my plan, an assault against the Fujianese boss and his contingent. I have people in Tokyo now, retaking what was lost and reestablishing our trade links with yakuza. They are impressed by the way we handled ourselves. As you would expect of the Japanese they stood back and waited to see which side was stronger. Now they know. We have gained enormous face.”
“What if the Fujianese had also hired mercenaries? It would have been all-out war on the streets of Tokyo. The police would have closed the city down. No one would have profited from such madness.”
“I believe the Bái Hu would have triumphed regardless of the number of guns arrayed against him.”
“Bái Hu? White Tiger. That is his name? Absurd.”
“Merely a nickname, Lin Yubo. His methods are direct and swift. I engaged him to rid us of the tiresome leader of the Fujianese, who believed he could take over our trade with yakuza, and by nightfall the nuisance was no more. He never misses and he never fails.” Chen Gui basked in his own brilliance and wished Chen Song were here with him to hear Lin Yubo’s congratulations.
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