High Stakes

by John F. Dobbyn

  “If this man from Hong Kong does come in here, do we do this in English? My Chinese is not what they seem to think it is.”

  “Don’t worry. He’ll be well educated. He’ll speak English.”

  “Do you know him?”

  “No, of course not. I only heard his code name by accident years ago. Remember, I’ve been out of this gang for a lot of years. One more thing. Since it will be in English, you’re really on your own. I have no clout here. In fact, I’m a pariah to them. Remember, I broke the sacred oath of the tong when I left the youth gang. Above all, no matter what, keep face.”

  The latch on the door clicked. We both stood. A man of about sixty years in a very fine, conservative light wool suit came into the room. The one deviation from an impression of typical corporate ascendency was a scar of old vintage from his eyebrow down the length of his right cheek. He bowed to me. I bowed to him. He smiled to me. I smiled to him.

  He said in impeccable English, “Mr. Knight, may I say, you show exemplary courage in coming here. I respect courage. Please be seated.”

  Harry warned me, but I was still taken aback. This man whose word could mean life or death was being gracious to me and visibly snubbing his countryman. Harry very apparently was a pariah to the tong. I clung to the hope that the deal I had in mind would carry Harry as well as me to greener pastures.

  Before I sat, I noticed an older man in more traditional Chinese dress enter quietly and take a seat by the wall.

  I sat facing our host. I did my best to focus on his eyes and not the scar. I made the first move blindly. “You have my name, sir. If I may have yours?”

  “Ah yes. You may call me ‘Mr. Chin.’”

  Even I knew that that was like a Caucasian saying, “Call me ‘Mr. Smith.’ Nonetheless, I felt as if I’d made it to first base.

  “Thank you, Mr. Chin. I believe we—”

  “If you’ll pardon the interruption, Mr. Knight. There is one more necessary preliminary before we speak freely.”

  He summoned one of the boy soldiers from his position at the door. With a head gesture toward Harry that reeked of disdain, he ordered his soldier to “remove this person from the building.”

  That was a stunner. I looked at Harry. He stood, seemingly willing to comply with the demand. I stood as well.

  Harry held a calming hand out toward me. “It’s alright, Mike. You have important things to discuss.”

  I faced Mr. Chin directly. The tone was low, but I gave it as much bite as I could and still remain civil.

  “With respect, Mr. Chin, it is not alright. We came together in good faith. There’s serious business to be done here. We remain, or we leave, together.”

  Mr. Chin rose slowly. The message I received from his eyes made me thankful that I did not know in detail what happened to anyone who crossed him. “You are an outsider here, Mr. Knight. There are matters beyond your understanding. This …” Again, he gave a withering head gesture to Harry. “… will be ejected immediately, as I ordered.”

  “Then we walk out that door together. Mr. Wong’s presence is an essential part of my offer.”

  “You will not dictate terms in this house.”

  I could sense all of the chords in Harry’s neck tightening. I could almost hear him conveying the thought, “‘Face’ can be overdone. Back off!”

  At that instant, I caught sight of the most fleeting look in Mr. Chin’s eyes. It put steel back in my posture and tone.

  I nodded to Harry, who seemed to have aged ten years. I took two steps toward the door, stopped, and faced Mr. Chin straight on.

  “It’s your decision, Mr. Chin. I had hoped that your sense of business would prevail. I would not be here if I could not provide you with something your organization desires very deeply. You must also realize that I have taken precautions against it being taken from me against my will. That said, I require few conditions. One of them is that this man remain in the conversation. That is not negotiable. Again, your decision.”

  I glanced at Harry. If his bulging eyes were a clue, he was half-an-inch from a heart seizure. He looked as if he saw his life in the hands of a demented child—me. I remembered hearing from Danny Liu that the big boys in the Hong Kong triad had taken control of the violin quest out of the hands of the leaders of the Boston tong. I was betting our two lives that that was what caused Scarface to flinch at some signal from the old man at the side.

  I saw it again. It was a flicker of expression in the eyes, but it seemed to take the venom out of Mr. Chin’s fangs. He simply sat down. I could practically smell the smoke of his smoldering temper. He was barely holding it in check.

  From across the room, I saw the elderly man in a traditional Chinese robe rise from his chair. He walked slowly toward Mr. Chin. Without a word, Mr. Chin stepped away from his chair. He left the room in a cloud of shattered face. The old man sat in the vacated chair. There was clearly a new hierarchy in place.

  The old man smiled. He gave me an inviting gesture toward my seat. Before accepting, I asked, “And Mr. Wong?”

  The old man waved a dismissive hand. “His coming or going is of no matter. There are no children in the room now. Shall we speak as businessmen?”

  “It’s my every wish.”

  I nodded to Harry. He sat gingerly, as if he thought the chair might suddenly burst into flames.

  The old man smiled again. “You have my full attention, Mr. Knight.”

  Out of respect, I did not ask him to manufacture a false name. I simply entered on what felt like a summation to a jury that had both of our lives in its hands.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  I SAT FACING the old man eye-to-eye. On nothing but intuition, I thought I saw a depth there that I could speak to.

  “I could begin by assuring you that every word I’ll speak will be the truth as I know it … But I won’t do that.”

  I noticed a narrowing of his eyes. “I won’t do it because it would be insulting to both of us. Neither of us would waste time with the other if that were not to be expected without words.”

  His smile slightly broadened. He simply nodded assent.

  “I will, however, begin at ground zero. There’s a treasure that may or may not exist. History, legend, myth say it does. It has the attention of three major competitors. Russian, Romanian, and Chinese. Do we agree so far?”

  “Of course.”

  “There are two necessary elements to finding the location of the treasure. A certain violin that somehow holds the key to the location. And secondly, a code for interpreting that key. Neither is of any use for finding the treasure without the other. Still agreed?”

  “It would seem so.”

  “Good. Then let’s be completely open. I have possession of the violin. It is completely secure in my hands. So much for the obvious. Of more interest, there have been repeated threats, attacks, ambushes, all in the attempt to take the violin out of my hands. They’ve all failed.”

  The old man leaned forward. The gentle smile remained, but it would take a fool not to see in his eyes a calculating intelligence that could seriously raise the level of the competition.

  He interjected, “May I call to mind, Mr. Knight, that none of these attacks you mention were at the hands of Chinese.”

  I wondered without asking if he was implying that the Chinese were above such tactics or that, if they had been behind them, they would have succeeded. I dropped it with a simple, “Noted.”

  “Please. Continue.”

  “The second half of the puzzle—the code, and how to apply it to this particular violin—that’s another matter. Without it, we simply have an expensive musical instrument.”

  “And do you have an idea that may lead to the discovering of this code?”

  “I do.”

  “And would you be willing to discuss this idea?”

  “No. Not at this time.”

  “Very interesting, Mr. Knight. May I pose a question? Purely hypothetical. Just to satisfy the curiosity of an old man.”r />
  “I wish you would. I don’t want to leave this room without complete understanding between us.”

  “In that spirit. Suppose, purely hypothetically, you were to fall into the hands of one who might, shall we say, possess methods of ancient origin that have never failed to open the lips of the most stoic person, even one honor-bound to secrecy. Might not that captor acquire both the violin and your path to the code?”

  The smile was ingenuous, but his eyes bore into mine like lasers. He held his hands open in anticipation of an answer. His word, “hypothetical,” hid nothing. It was three balls, two strikes, and he was delivering a fast ball right over the plate. I thanked God for it. This was the moment that brought me here.

  “No. Not possible.”

  “And that because?”

  “The violin is secreted in a place to which I and only one other have access. If I don’t contact that other person with a certain frequency and pass on a certain word that changes by the hour, the violin will be placed beyond the reach of either of us.”

  “I see.”

  “Not entirely. As a further precaution, if I were to convey a different code word, shall we say, if I were under compulsion, the alert would be given. The violin would simply be destroyed. The treasure would remain a legend, a myth for all time.”

  The smile faded. “You would destroy such an instrument?”

  “The plan is securely in place. If your hypothetical someone were to compel me to convey the code word, he would have no way of knowing if I called for the preservation or the destruction of the only means of finding the treasure.”

  “You have an interesting mind, Mr. Knight. I might have thought you had Chinese ancestry.”

  “Who knows? But why dwell on these dark thoughts. That’s not why I’m here. I have a more positive proposal.”

  “Now you truly have my interest. No more hypotheticals.”

  “My proposal is simply this … Leave me alone. Just leave me alone.”

  He thought for a moment. “That sounds like half a proposal.”

  “It is. I said I have a path that might well lead me to the code and its application to the violin. I plan to follow that path, wherever it leads. I believe it holds the clearest possible promise of finding the treasure. I’m speaking plainly.”

  “Plainly, yes. But of what interest to me?”

  “I make this pledge. Whatever the end result of my search—I promise to pass my findings on to you before touching the treasure myself.”

  I could see his eyes narrowing as he sat back in the chair. His mental calculator was operating at full throttle.

  Before he could speak, I added, “Understand why I make the request that you, whether tong or triad, simply leave me alone. The chance of success of my search will be greatly increased if I don’t need constant eyes in the back of my head for an attack by the Chinese. Tong, triad, whatever.”

  I could see him carefully framing his next question. “You ask me to place extraordinary trust in what you call your pledge. Why would I be inclined to do that?”

  “Two reasons. The first and most important is this. You and I are, in a sense, extraordinary people. You wouldn’t be wasting your time listening to me here unless you’d investigated, unless you found that the honor of keeping my word once given is as important to me as what you call ‘face’ is to you. I may not be Chinese, but I suspect that in that, we’re two of a kind. I can think of no more important reason for trust than that. On both sides.”

  Again, he was smiling. “And the other reason?”

  “Pure logic. As I suggested, any other course would risk loss of the treasure forever. For us all.”

  The old man rose slowly and walked to the window. He reminded me of what my partner, Lex Devlin, would do when I’d given him an eye-crossing conundrum.

  He turned and looked in my eyes. “You mentioned two other suiters for this treasure. The Russians and the Romanians. What of them?”

  Here I knew I was on a tightrope. “Shall we be completely open with each other? My recent experience tells me that there is some sort of pact between the tong—and possibly your triad—and the Russians. I would leave it to you to present the proposal that they too stop throwing up roadblocks. It would be in the interests of all of us. My pledge is to report any success to you personally. Whatever you commit yourself to share with the Russians, that’s in your bailiwick. I only ask that you do whatever is necessary to neutralize any further threat to me or my family.”

  “This gang of Russians. That’s another matter. You might have found that in matters of honor, respect for a word given does not run quite so deeply with them. However, one can do one’s best. And the Romanians?”

  “I have no such commitment to them, as I would have to you.”

  The next few moments hung like a suspended sword. The old man gazed out the window. I knew that there was nothing to be seen out there that was churning in his mind.

  When he turned back, I could read absolutely nothing in his expression. He walked back close to me. His voice was firm and steady. “What your people seal with a handshake, we seal with a bow. I give you my word now. You will suffer no harm from my organization—either tong or triad.”

  I returned his solemn bow, and he extended his hand, which I accepted.

  I took the first full breath since Harry and I walked down Beach Street. I had even forgotten that Harry was there, until I heard a deep exhaling coming from his direction.

  The old man walked us to the door. Before opening it, he said, “I mean this not as interference, as you say. Is there any assistance I might offer? I’m not without … connections. Internationally.”

  “I’ll take your offer with me.” I turned back. “There is one thing. In a way it’s connected. I represent a young Chinese man. His name is Mickey Chan. He’s actually saved my life several times in relation to what we’ve been discussing. He’s being framed for the murder of the man who brought me into this affair, Mr. Han Liu. I believe the president of the Boston Chinese bank, Mr. Chang, is behind it. Some kind of tong politics.”

  “And how can I help?”

  “The only witness is a Mrs. Ming Tan. She’s clearly been threatened to lie under oath.”

  “I still don’t see …”

  “She’s been abducted by the tong. They’ll keep her until she appears in court to falsely convict Mickey Chan.”

  “I see your dilemma. Now you must see mine. Control over the Boston tong by our triad in Hong Kong is a matter of delicate limitation. We’ve stepped in on the matter you and I have been discussing. But there are boundaries to be observed.”

  “I understand.”

  “Perhaps not entirely, Mr. Knight. But certain matters I’m not free to explain. Let me give it some thought.”

  He opened the door. He raised his hand slightly, and the silk suit who let us in appeared. The old man introduced him. “This is Mr. Lao. If you need to contact me, do it through him. He can always be found here.”

  He bowed, as did I. “Until we meet again, Mr. Knight. Go in safety.”

  * * *

  Harry and I left in silence. I’m sure in our thoughts we were both replaying the scene we had just lived through. We stopped on the sidewalk. Harry leaned close to be heard. “Michael.”

  When Harry calls me “Michael” and not “Mike,” I know it’s not to discuss baseball scores.

  “Do you have any idea … No, I’ll put it this way. You have absolutely no idea of the power of that man you just dealt with. If we were not under many eyes here, I’d bow to you in humble admiration. Incidentally, that was one hell of a promise you made. Was it off the cuff?”

  “No. No, Harry. Some things are finally coming together. I’m getting a better picture of how I might be able to see this thing work out. What I said to him was part of the plan.”

  “Could you share the plan?”

  I touched his shoulder and looked at him. “No. Much as I’d like to. It’s better that I carry this thing alone for now. I
want you to be able to say convincingly that you have no idea what I’m up to. Someday it could save your life.”

  He just nodded.

  We began to walk down Beach Street, when I felt Harry’s elbow in my side. I caught his whisper, “Three o’clock. Doorway.”

  One quick glance to my right brought the chills back to my spinal cord. The fat man with the scar, who had been reduced to faceless indignity by the old man, was standing in the shadow of a doorway across Beach Street. It was just a glance, but enough to catch with a certainty that his malevolent glare was directly at us.

  Harry picked it up first and tapped me again. The two well-muscled late-teens who had first stopped us at the doorway were half a block in front of us. They were marching our way. I hardly had to look back to know that the other two were closing in from behind.

  I kept it to a whisper. “Any ideas?”

  “Yes.”

  I was a bit stunned at the force of his answer.

  “I’m wide open to suggestion.”

  Harry sounded almost pleased. “I said this the last time, Mike. I’ll say it again. We can do this.”

  “Harry. It’s four to two. And those are not cream puffs.”

  “It’s four punks against two members of the Harvard House League championship wrestling team. I’m actually sorry for the four punks, but they chose the odds.”

  Given the lack of any obvious alternative, I whispered, “When you put it that way, how can I disagree? Choose your ground.”

  “In here.”

  Harry turned left. He walked at a steady pace into a narrow alley between buildings. I followed. We got about twenty feet inside of the alley. The footsteps behind told us that two of them had us boxed in from behind. We continued to walk straight ahead until the other two showed up at the alley entrance ahead of us. Each of the four was manipulating a set of nunchucks that could break a bone with every strike.

  We stopped when both pairs were about fifteen feet away from us and coming on. I faced the two in front. Harry faced the two behind. There was no point in whispering now.