High Stakes

by John F. Dobbyn

  “And the plan is?”

  “Do you remember Professor Kamuki’s lecture on defensive tactics?”

  “Like it was yesterday.”

  “Good enough. Just like he taught us. Do you remember the poem he used?”

  “Every word.”

  “Then let the games begin.”

  Harry’s apparent comfort with the situation was contagious. I was lost in the moment with him. It was like ten years ago. We were next up in a simulated class exercise. This time it was not simulated, but to hell with it. Damn the torpedoes. Full speed ahead.

  All four were ritually swinging the nunchucks like black belts.

  We let them come to within three feet. Harry suddenly barked it out like a Marine drill-instructor.

  “Mary had a little lamb!”

  For that instant, the incongruity stopped them short.

  I picked up the bark. “Its fleece was white as snow!”

  Now they stared at me. Harry’s turn. “And everywhere that Mary went!”

  My line, at a volume that shook the windows. “The lamb was SURE … TO … GO!”

  Like a drill we’d rehearsed, in perfect synch, we both dropped to the ground. We were flat on our backs. With all of the leverage and power I could muster, I drove the heel of my left shoe into the knee of the man on my left. The crunch of bone and squeal of pain he let out matched the sounds I heard from Harry’s man behind me.

  A bare split second later, my right heel flew like a battering ram into the crotch of the man to my right. Again, shrieks of pain ahead and behind were timed like a synchronized machine.

  Within a second, Harry and I were on our feet, looking down at four squirming, squealing bodies. Four sets of nunchucks were still clattering on the hard pavement.

  Harry tapped me on the shoulder. “I told you, Mike. The odds were in our favor.”

  “This time. Let’s get out of here before the odds change.”

  We walked back out of the alley to Beach Street. I still had the words of the old man ringing in my mind: “You will suffer no harm from my organization—tong or triad.”

  I led Harry back to the door of the gambling den. I was about to knock when the old man opened the door.

  “Mr. Knight, I can only apologize from the heart. Mister … Chin … apparently did not suffer loss of face without revenge. He acted before I could give the order. I can now assure you. He will be of no further concern to me or to you.”

  I looked across the street. Scarface was nowhere to be seen. I thought it wise not to press for details. One more bow cleared the air.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  OUR LITTLE BAND of three were becoming regulars at the Marliave. I arrived five minutes early. As usual, I could reset my watch to high noon by the arrival of Mr. Devlin and Billy Coyne.

  Tony seated us in our usual private chamber. He suggested three irresistible courses off-menu. On the way out, he quietly closed the door. Something about the click of that particular door had a calming effect on my heart rate—perhaps, at that moment, more than anywhere else in the city.

  Mr. Coyne cut straight to business. “Listen, kid. I can’t stall this thing much longer. This Mickey Chan, this client of yours, he’s been indicted. I should be pushing the warrant for his arrest. The D. A.’s started riding my backside for results.”

  Mr. D. broke in. “Your boss was born with a nose for a headline.”

  Mr. Coyne shrugged. He focused on me. “So kid, give me a good reason for continuing to take the heat here.”

  “I’ll do better than that, Mr. Coyne. I’ll turn off the heat. You can start the police search for Mickey Chan anytime you want. It won’t be a problem.”

  He looked surprised. “What do you mean? I thought I was doing you one hell of a favor here to stall off the arrest.”

  “You were. And I thank you for it. I owe you. But it’s not necessary now. You can give it your best shot.”

  “Why? What’s changed?”

  “I’ve learned more about Mickey. And about Chinatown. It’s a different world. I realized that it doesn’t matter what you or the police do. You’ll never be able to find him anyway. I’m more concerned about the tong running him down. They have techniques and connections your people can’t use.”

  That stunned him for a few seconds. “But I suppose you can find him, right, kid? You could flush him out.”

  Mr. D. leaned in. “Billy … attorney-client privilege. Remember?”

  “Then why the hell are we here? You could have said that much over the phone.”

  Secure as I felt, I instinctively dropped my voice. “Because this whole thing is beginning to come together. Not just Mickey Chan. This whole Russian, Chinese, Romanian chase for the treasure. I don’t think I have to tell you again what’s at stake for this city and beyond.”

  “I know. Keep talking.”

  “There’s a necessary piece to this thing. You’re the only one who can bring it. We need your help to put this puzzle together.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Good. Because this is not defense counsel hype. This is God’s truth. Your witness, Ming Tan, is being forced by the tong to lie about who killed Mr. Liu. It’s tied up in tong politics. Someday I’ll tell you the whole story. For now, I can just give you my word. I know it for a fact. Mickey Chan had no part in the murder of Mr. Liu.”

  I’d said it before, but this time he was listening with a neutral expression.

  “Right now Ming Tan is being held captive by the tong. They’ll produce her as a witness against Mickey when it comes to trial. Not before. She’ll say what they tell her to.”

  “You told me that. There’s still no police report of a kidnapping.”

  “And there won’t be. No one in all of Chinatown would inform on the tong.”

  “So we’re at a stalemate.”

  “You are. I’m not. A crack in the armor might have opened up. For me. You can’t go there.”

  “So what am I doing here?”

  “As I said, I need your help. Without it, all I can do is get people killed.”

  Mr. Coyne looked over at Mr. D. who was giving nothing but confirming looks, in spite of the fact that I hadn’t had a chance to brief him on any of it.

  I pulled in closer. “If—and it’s one hell of an ‘if’—I can break Ming Tan loose from the tong, we’ll be running for our lives. I need you to set her up in the witness protection program. I need it in advance for both her and her husband. And for their kids, if they have any. I’ll let you know about that.”

  That put creases in Mr. Coyne’s brow. “I hear what you’re saying. You know it as well as I do. Witness protection is federal, not state. It’s not mine to give.”

  “I know. But you have connections with the U.S. Attorney that I don’t have. You two have worked together before. I have to know it’s firmly set to take those people into protection immediately before I can make a move. If I can do what I have in mind, there’ll be no time for decisions or paperwork. Any delay could leave a number of dead bodies around Chinatown.”

  Mr. Coyne looked at Mr. D. “What is it with this kid, a death wish?”

  “It’s commitment, Billy. Like you’re not likely to find around those corridors of City Hall. What can you do for him?”

  Billy went into a few seconds of thought. “The U.S. Attorney’s office doesn’t hand out witness protection without something back.”

  “I thought of that, Mr. Coyne. How’s this for something back? If we can get Ming Tan and her family clear of the tong’s threats, there’s a good chance she’ll give evidence on members of the gang. That could help the U. S. Attorney bring down tong members like dominoes with federal RICO prosecutions. Heaven knows, the tong is a ‘Racketeering Influenced Corrupt Organization.’ What the federal prosecutors always lacked is a witness who isn’t terrified into silence.”

  That had him thinking. “It doesn’t end there, Mr. Coyne. Ming Tan’s testimony could also give our crusading district attorney some hi
gh-level state prosecutions of her own. The Globe would eat it up. Front-page stuff every day.”

  Mr. Coyne’s mind was jumping three moves ahead. “When do you have to know about witness protection?”

  “As soon as you can get a commitment. I’ll be out of town for a while. If you let Mr. Devlin know, he’ll get the word to me.”

  “And what are you going to be doing?”

  That was the killer question. “I wish I could tell you. Hopefully some dominoes will fall for me too. Someday maybe I’ll write a book about it. I could call it High Stakes. I’ll send you the first signed copy.”

  * * *

  It was finally beginning to feel like I was putting together pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, rather than just finding new ones. I timed the walk across town to the New England Aquarium on Boston Harbor to arrive a few minutes before three. I was on the elevator to the second level Temperate Gallery in time to be in front of the sea dragon exhibit at exactly three o’clock. The idea was to avoid standing still in any one place long enough to be a target. Based on past meetings, I was counting on my Romanian meeting partner, George, to match Billy Coyne and Mr. D. for split-second punctuality.

  I was wrong. I spent fifteen minutes exchanging eye contact with a couple of weedy and leafy, sea-horse looking, sea dragons. No George.

  I was getting increasing sensations of confusion, discomfort, and concern. My impression of George was that every move he made was calculated to avoid any misstep that, in his profession, could shorten his life span. Casual lateness was out of synch with the pattern.

  Another five minutes and I was doubting the healthfulness of my own staying in one place too long. There had been other tourist fish-gapers there when I’d arrived, but they had all moved on.

  I gave it another three minutes and decided to abort the mission. I turned to make a rapid exit and almost collided with the late George. His apologies were sincere and accepted, but I was still curious.

  “You’re never late without a reason, George. Little as I know about you, I’d bet my Corvette on that. I won’t push it, but I’m curious. Could you tell me why?”

  “In this case, yes, Michael. Since you were the cause of it, perhaps I should.”

  “My curiosity just doubled.”

  He rechecked our surroundings for additional ears. There were none. “You gave me reason to believe that, as you put it, there was a leak in my operation. I appreciate that information more than you know. Disloyalty can’t be tolerated. Fortunately, you also gave me a method of, shall we say, sealing the leak.”

  “How?”

  “Our meeting here at this multi-level aquarium. There were just three people in my organization who could have known the information you believed was leaked to the Russians. I’ve put complete trust in all three of them for many years.”

  “I understand. What did you do?”

  “I told each of them separately about our meeting at three o’clock here at the aquarium. Fortunately, it’s large enough so I could tell each of them that we were meeting at a different exhibit. If you were right about the leak, one of them would tip off the Russians. I figured you were their target. There’d be Russian agents at that exhibit to do whatever they had in mind for you.”

  “So I was the staked goat.”

  “Not as bad as it sounds. My people would be here to see that the Russians, if any, would be … neutralized before you could come to harm.”

  “That’s comforting. Sort of. What did you tell the three men?”

  “I told one of them we were meeting at the seal exhibit. I told the second one it was the jellyfish exhibit. I told the third one it was the scorpion-fish gallery. I knew you’d be up here at the sea dragon exhibit. You’d be out of harm’s way.”

  “By one flight of stairs. Suppose the Russians came to the wrong exhibit or just started looking around?”

  “The chances were good that my men would have located them. The danger was within controllable limits.”

  I gave him a dubious look.

  “My dear Michael, in our business, some calculated risks are inevitable.”

  “My dear George, how the hell do I convince you once and for all—I’m not in your business.”

  He returned my dubious look. “Think of your past week, my young friend. Is there really a difference?”

  He had me. I moved on. “This trap of yours, any results?”

  I saw a bit of sincere emotion. “I’m afraid so. I thank you that you were right. The ‘leak,’ as you say, was a man I’ve known since we were children in Romania. We were like brothers. He was closer to me than any relative. I’d never have suspected.”

  “Did you see him here?”

  “I did. It’s why I was late. I had to see him face-to-face before I could take any action. My people let me know the Russians were waiting for you at the seal exhibit downstairs. He was there with them.”

  “What did you do?”

  “My men removed the Russians first.”

  “How?”

  He waved the question aside. “You needn’t concern yourself with that.”

  “And your man?”

  The darkness deepened in his expression. “I asked him, ‘Why? After all of our years. Why?’”

  He stopped.

  “Did he answer?”

  “Yes. But not in words. He simply wept. As did I. You won’t understand. We embraced each other like the brothers we’d been.”

  “And then?”

  He straightened up. “He knew. There was no going back. He asked my forgiveness.”

  “Did you?”

  “Did I forgive him? Yes. From the heart. We made peace, so we won’t meet in anger in the next life.”

  “Is he still …”

  “On this earth?” He shook his head and looked in my eyes. “No. He understood. As I said, there’s no going back. It’s simply the way things are. We know that, all of us, when we make our choices.”

  I have to admit it. I was a bit stunned by the unrelenting reality of George’s life. He could see it in my eyes.

  “Perhaps our worlds are different after all, Michael.”

  I had no words. I could only nod my agreement.

  He gave a quick check for other ears in the room. There were none. “You wanted to see me. You have news?”

  “I have a decision. I also have the beginning of a plan. You might approve. First let me fill in some gaps.”

  I told him everything that had happened in my meeting with Scarface and the old man from the Hong Kong triad in the large-stakes gambling den and in the alley off Beach Street in Chinatown. I told him in great detail. It seemed important that he understand the full background of the decision I’d reached.

  “And where does all of this lead you?”

  “To a conclusion. Let me put it this way. There are three competing forces, all after the treasure they think is tied up in that violin. The Russians, the Chinese, and your Romanians. That’s obvious.”

  “True.”

  “You once pointed out to me that the only one of the three that wouldn’t happily chop me into molecules if it would get them the violin, let alone the treasure, was your Romanians.”

  “I’m glad you remembered.”

  “I remembered because you’ve had several opportunities. And yet here I am, still breathing fresh air.”

  He just smiled.

  “You also told me that the treasure, if there is one …”

  “There is.”

  “That the treasure was amassed by the Impaler, Dracula, by extracting heavy burdens of tribute from the Romanian people. It would seem after some five and a half centuries that if anyone has a legitimate claim to it, it’s the Romanian people. Perhaps it could do them some long overdue good. Heaven knows, that treasure would bring disaster around the world if the Chinese or the Russians got their hands on it.”

  “I like where this is going, Michael.”

  “So do I. Because for the first time I have some clarity of purpose. My conclusion i
s that from this point on, I’m in your corner. I think we should work together as partners. Maybe we can see some justice come out of this thing after all.”

  He put his hand on my shoulder. “Before you make a commitment, I want you to be sure. What happened earlier today in this building must convince you that I don’t take a pledge of partnership, of loyalty, lightly. Be very certain of the extent of your commitment before you make it. At this moment, we can both walk away. It’s your decision.”

  “Perhaps you’ve noticed. I don’t give my word lightly either.”

  I held out my hand. He saw my hand, but he hesitated. He looked for something more in my eyes. Apparently, he saw it, because a partnership was sealed with a handshake.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  GEORGE AND I took the escalator to the aquarium ground level. We had unfinished business, and there was no better place to put it in order than the Harbor Walk off Atlantic Avenue. I could sense as we strolled beside the open ocean that there was a new openness on both sides of our relationship.

  “You mentioned a plan,” he said.

  “The outline of a plan. I’ll have to see where it takes us.”

  “Fair enough. What is it?”

  I let my eyes wander out to the islands in the harbor. The question was where to begin. The answer became clear. Right at the heart of it.

  “It’s time we stopped nibbling around the edges. Let’s go after the treasure. I have the violin. The violin has the code, let’s hope. Someone must have the key to interpreting the code. My guess is you have some sense of how to find that someone. Let’s make use of the trust we have in each other to combine resources. We’ll find it, or we won’t. We’ll live to tell it, or …”

  “Or we won’t. I’m in.”

  There was a new fire in his words. “Where do you propose we begin, Michael?”

  “We have limited choices. Most of the people involved in the history of this thing have been dead for centuries. The last words Mr. Oresciu spoke to me gave me the clue. I’ll start with the interpreter of the ship doctor’s journal. The Turkish professor. If he’s still alive.”