Chinatown Blues Read online

  “One thing you need to do.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Get a new gun. Lose the old one.”

  “Yeah sure, of course. You see what I mean, details.”

  I snorted and shook my head. “That’s basic criminal procedure. Don’t you watch TV?”

  “Only kid shows lately. Which reminds me. They get up early.”

  “Go home. It’s been a tough day.”

  He nodded wearily. “Sure has. But, Max…?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Where do I get a new gun?”

  I heaved a deep sigh. “Let’s talk when I pick up my mail.”

  He got up to leave. “Tomorrow then?”

  “I won’t be moving around much tomorrow,” I said with a modicum of certainty. “Day after okay?”

  “See you then, Max.” He shook my hand. “And thanks.”

  I watched him go, his shoulders slumped, his head down, body heavy with worry. Home and family was a double-edged sword. As for myself I had already fallen on my blade.

  With Jimmy gone, my obligations dispatched, I felt free to indulge in a bout of anger turned inward. Commonly known as a ferocious depression.

  I had a few more tequilas, furious at my inability to negotiate some kind of detente with Nina. Furious at being locked in a situation which prevented me from pursuing Nina rather than letting her go. Furious at volunteering to bury other people’s bodies.

  It must have shown because the patrons were avoiding my gaze. I remember thinking I wasn’t drunk and arguing with the waitress when she refused to serve me another double. I recall heading for Golden Boy Pizza when I left the bar.

  I don’t remember how or when I got home.

  Chapter 2

  “Got burned so bad I’m still smokin’.”

  — Angela Strehli, Blues singer

  It was late morning when I woke up. But I wasn’t in bed.

  I was on the floor beside my bed. Somehow I had wrapped myself in a blanket and stuffed a pillow beneath my aching head. As I started to get up my ribs were raked by a sharp pain. I had to roll on all fours in order to crawl onto my mattress.

  I took a deep, careful breath and was relieved to find my ribs weren’t cracked. I took off my shirt and saw a large bruise on my chest. My brain too, felt bruised. I lay back and tried to remember.

  An hour later I opened my eyes. My headache was on the front burner and I was hungry. However fixing breakfast was out of the question. I hobbled to the bathroom and took a long hot shower. Then I took a short cold shower and a few aspirin.

  Mobile if not nimble I dressed and went out.

  It was past noon and lunch in North Beach was in full swing. Mario’s has good strong coffee so I got a large take-out and sat outside contemplating the ruins of my life.

  Besides everything else my black out was worrisome. That’s the fallacy of trying to drink away your problems. You wake up feeling like shit, your old problems are still there but now you have a new one.

  So much for the fucking sermon.

  Truth was my life had been pulled out from under me. Again.

  Nina was the woman I had yearned for all my life, even if I didn’t know it. Apparently my prior acts of nobility on her behalf had a shelf life. To be fair until now I had given Nina only half a person. But the whole person was toxic.

  For both of us.

  I couldn’t expose her to the kind of evil lurking in my world.

  Ergo I was fucked.

  “Max.”

  The female voice triggered a shower of reactions: joy, relief, gratitude, and abject disappointment when I saw it wasn’t Nina.

  It took a second to recognize the blonde lady smiling at me. Leslie was the cocktail waitress at Spec’s. She had served us drinks the night before. The smile was reassuring but I was wary. I still couldn’t remember what happened between closing time and home that caused me to wake up with sore ribs.

  “Leslie what’s up?” I ventured cautiously.

  “Thanks for last night. That was awesome.”

  For a stricken moment I wondered if we had hooked up. To be sure Leslie was lovely with long blond curls and wise blue eyes but at that point I couldn’t handle anything more complicated than a handshake.

  “Awesome? Usually I’m average.”

  “Oh come on, Max. Most guys wouldn’t have stepped in like that. You’re a real Galahad.”

  A series of blurred images slowly came into focus. Stepping out of Spec’s into the courtyard and lighting a cigarette. Leslie there outside talking to a tall dude with a ponytail. Clearly she’s not enjoying the conversation. She pulls away and starts back inside. He grabs her arm.

  She slips free. He grabs her again and yanks her back. Hard.

  That’s when The Preacher descended and the fury fell over me like a dark curtain.

  It wasn’t the booze that caused my black out. It was the uncontrollable rage that over the years I had come to name The Preacher.

  “Uh, was he your boyfriend?”

  “Wannabe. Bad news. But I think you convinced him to fuck off permanently.”

  “Um how so?” I said treading lightly lest I had gone too far.

  “Oh he thinks he’s bad because he used to box. But you took his best punch and bent him in a pretzel before you kicked his ass into the street.”

  “Hope I didn’t draw a crowd. I would uh, hate to embarrass you.”

  “Don’t be silly, Max. It all happened so fast I was the only one who noticed.” She beamed up at me and I could see infatuation lighting her cornflower blue eyes.

  Nina used to look at me that way.

  “You want to have a coffee or something?”

  I didn’t but her plaintive tone hit home.

  I had already disappointed my share of women so I said, “Sure.”

  “Do you like Trieste?”

  “Yeah, good call.”

  Trieste is another hold out from the golden era. Steeped in tradition the café is located on the triangle where Grant meets Columbus. It stands directly across from the Church of Saint Francis made famous by Lawrence Ferlinghetti’s fine poem. Every Saturday afternoon various opera singers perform to a packed house. The place is cramped and filled with old guard bohemians which makes finding a table an adventure. However it serves good strong coffee and fresh pastry both of which I badly needed to clear my foggy senses.

  We found a table in the rear which was fairly anonymous since at the Trieste everybody is looking at everybody else and no one sees anybody.

  Leslie chatted while I ate my Danish and dipped into the conversation here and there. I learned she graduated from Bennington and had a day gig in public relations which put her in touch with the city’s local celebrities from Sean Penn to Metallica. She said all this with becoming modesty and I found myself charmed by her fearless intelligence, not to mention her ripe sensuality.

  But all I could think about was Nina.

  And then as the sugar and caffeine ignited the ashes of my brain I remembered the dead man I had heaved over Devil’s Slide. I made a mental note to get on the computer and dig up his vital statistics.

  “So what are you doing these days, Max?”

  “Uh, you know I’m a tech geek. Private clients, work at home, that kind of thing.”

  She was about to ask where I lived until I diverted the conversation.

  “I’d be glad to help you update your web page.”

  As I said it I realized it sounded like a techie seduction line.

  Leslie leaned closer and put her hand on mine. It felt like cool water on desert sand. “You’ve already helped a lot,” she said quietly, her pink mouth curled in a mischievous smile. “But maybe we can trade services.”

  The husky tone in her voice suggested it could turn out to be a memorable afternoon. She didn’t know her Galahad was a knave in dented armor, creaky with defeat.

  “Yeah that sounds good,” I said, pretending I had missed the point.

  A few minutes later Leslie finish
ed her coffee and said she had to run. We both promised to email. I waited until she had gone and went directly home to find out exactly who the late Peter Ng really was.

  I used Eli’s big Apple computer to run down Ng’s credit card numbers, DMV records, and bank records. Hacking into police and FBI databases I searched for criminal history. Then I opened InterpoI.

  Finally also checked his immigration status.

  In a few hours I had compiled a detailed profile of Peter Ng.

  Thirty one years old, son of a Chinese father and Vietnamese mother.

  Educated in England, left Cambridge after a year and lived in London. Became an English citizen and soon after moved to New York where he made a fortune in real estate. While there he married Sara Sun, a Chinese -American graduate of Harvard Law School. He then formed XTech, a corporate security firm.

  Ng had no criminal record anywhere and believe me, I tried.

  Which left one glaring question.

  Why would a wealthy entrepreneur risk everything by acting as a low rent strong arm man for some developer?

  My guess was Jimmy had been right. Ng intended to kill him and didn’t want any potential witnesses. Like a hired hit man—or me. So Ng was there to execute Jimmy personally.

  Which implied he had done it before.

  My sugar and caffeine breakfast burned out and I went to my room for a nap. On the bed this time.

  I woke up famished. A shower loosened up my aching body parts and I went out to get some food and pick up my mail. It was a short walk from North Beach to Chinatown and when I got to Jimmy’s shop it was still open.

  Jimmy was busy with a customer when I entered and after concluding the ancient Chinese woman wasn’t a threat I wandered around the shop.

  The sharp musky scent of the herbs and roots stored in the glass jars and wood bins was oddly reassuring as if I’d been transported to a simpler time. Except killer wolves were circling just outside the portal I reminded, sniffing the dark vibes of the previous day’s violence.

  As the elderly lady shuffled out wheeling her shopping cart behind her Jimmy reached beneath the counter and produced a thin stack of envelopes.

  “Usual bills,” he said, handing them over. He paused and peered at me.

  “You okay?”

  “Except for a wicked hangover and some bruised ribs I’m dandy.”

  He half pushed me into the back room. “Step into my clinic.”

  Jimmy had me strip down to my shorts and sit on the massage table while he brewed some special tea. After I drank the bitter brew he told me to lie face up and close my eyes. Then he switched on the overhead heat lamp. Five minutes later I began to sweat. Within ten minutes it came in torrents. My body was drenched.

  Jimmy produced a large towel and dried me off. Then he gently rubbed ointment over my bruised ribs and chest. Finally he covered my legs with a cotton blanket and told me to lie still. I felt an icy warmth seep into my muscles and bones, like ginger and jalapenos mixed with hot gin. And then Jimmy started expertly dotting my skin with acupuncture needles.

  When the process was finished I rolled off the massage table feeling as fresh as a twenty-year old. Well maybe thirty-nine.

  Jimmy smiled. “You must be hungry.”

  “I arrived hungry.”

  “There’s a good place up the street. Szechuan okay?”

  “Right now I could eat the Great Wall.”

  Jimmy locked up and we walked a block to a small restaurant called Lucky Moon.

  The food was excellent but I could sense something was troubling Jimmy. I waited for him to tell me but I had an idea what it might be. Odd how I could read everybody except myself.

  He spooned some black rice onto my plate. “I don’t remember you having bruised ribs last night.”

  I told him what happened after he left Spec’s.

  Jimmy shook his head. “I was pretty well wasted myself. Linda has been giving me icicle eyes all day.”

  “Yeah but you managed to make it home without assaulting anyone. Considering our situation it was stupid.”

  “It’s not stupid to help a girl in trouble.” He leaned closer. ”How was she, or don’t you remember?”

  “Strictly platonic. The bleeding hasn’t stopped from my previous disaster.”

  “Must be tough.”

  I was too busy digging into the scallion pancakes and pepper shrimp to answer.

  Finally he sat back and sighed heavily. “I’m sorry I got you mixed up in this.”

  “Something happen today?”

  “As a matter of fact…” he looked at me sharply, “how did you know?”

  I shrugged. “Intuition. You seemed worried.”

  “I’m worried alright. New World Developers left a message on my home answering machine. Some male secretary said they would like to schedule an appointment.”

  “He leave a name, this secretary?”

  “Taylor Kingston.”

  “He’s the CEO of New World. Ng had his card and number.”

  Jimmy flinched at the mention of Ng’s name but his expression remained stoic. “What do you think I should do?”

  “Calling you at home was definitely a message. Schedule the meeting and have me along. I’ll make sure everything is recorded.”

  “Once you show up with me you’re in deep shit.”

  “I’m already in deep shit—I just ate a chili pepper. Schedule the meeting.”

  “And oh, Max?”

  “I know. You need a piece.”

  “Thanks. Maybe I should take Linda to the pistol range.”

  “Maybe you should send Linda and your daughter out of town somewhere.”

  “She’s still in school, Linda would panic. If things get heavy I’ll send them to Disneyland in Florida.”

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. At this moment Mr. Kingston is worried. That’s why the sit down. To size you up.”

  Jimmy polished his glasses. “Okay I’ll call tomorrow. But don’t forget the gun.”

  “Alright but no guns at the meeting. As far as they’re concerned you’re a small time problem. Their enforcer could be anywhere. They’re not even sure he visited you at all.”

  He nodded thoughtfully. “Of course. You’re absolutely right. They just want to make sure.”

  When he looked up the stress clouding his features had cleared. He took a deep breath and smiled. “Thanks,, I feel a lot better.”

  I smiled back but I knew it wouldn’t be that simple.

  ***

  After dinner as I walked home I started planning how I would bug the meeting, perhaps plant one right in Kingston’s office. I went over available devices.

  Anything to keep my mind off Nina.

  I was so engrossed I didn’t see the large black Mercedes until it pulled up alongside of me. The door opened and a young Chinese man stepped out. He had a blond pompadour, a pale blue suit, and a Glock nine. The Glock motioned me inside the open door.

  One eye on the gun I crawled inside.

  Blond boy closed the door behind me and got into the front seat. The car was roomy with soft leather seats and head cushions.

  It had to be roomy.

  Seated beside me, an innocent smile masking his hard, alert eyes, was a very large man with a shaved skull. When I say large I mean big enough to qualify for statehood.

  “Please forgive me,” he said, “we need to talk.”

  “Who are you and what the fuck is this about?” I snapped.

  Too quick.

  The smile faded and his eyes drilled into mine.

  “I’m going to make you an offer you can’t refuse.”

  Then he laughed.

  Chapter 3

  “Everybody has a strategy until they get punched in the face.” – Mike Tyson

  “I’ve always wanted to say that.” The big man said, still chuckling.

  The driver and the blond gunman were also amused.

  The only one not smiling was me. My brain was frantically sifting throug
h a thousand possibilities. All bad.

  He seemed to read my scattered thoughts.

  “My name is Albert Chan. Again, please forgive my crude manner of introduction.”

  He pressed his huge hands together as if in prayer and regarded me carefully over steepled fingers.

  “However it is urgent. For both of us.”

  As I took a deep breath and settled down I noticed Albert’s diction had a slight British twang. Maybe Hong Kong. I also noticed his chest and shoulders threatened to burst through his custom tailored suit. Probably steroids. His bald dome looked like a glass turret on a pin striped tank.

  Aware of my position I dialed down the attitude.

  “Whew you scared the hell out of me,” I said mildly. “So tell me, Albert, what’s so urgent?”

  He clapped his hands in delight. “Max, you are all I’d hoped.”

  Max?

  That stopped me. My precious anonymity had been shattered like a Ming Vase.

  “I wasn’t aware I was so famous,” I said with all the cool I could muster.

  “Infamous. Were you aware there’s a bounty on you?”

  I shrugged. “I’ve heard rumors.”

  It was true.

  Since I helped break up their drug and human trafficking operation, the Vandals motorcycle gang had put a price on my head. Still it was disheartening to know the news had seeped all the way to Chinatown.

  “Takes talent for one man to piss of so many dangerous people.”

  “It’s a gift.”

  “Word is you rescued a couple of girls they had kidnapped.”

  “Why the interest in my legend Albert—do you intend to collect that bounty?”

  “I need a man with your skillset.”

  “Pissing people off?”

  “We know that you’re a friend of Doctor Chu.”

  “A client.”

  “Who receives his mail at Doctor Chu’s shop.”

  “In return for my computer services.”

  “Which are considerable, Max. I’ve seen Doctor Chu’s website. You’ve made him global.”

  When I didn’t respond he said., “Now why would you receive your mail at an herb shop in Chinatown?”

  “I’m dodging a vindictive ex-wife.”

  It was my standard but it carried credibility. Especially in California.