Grit & Shadows Boxed Set

by J. D. Brink

  He grins at me. “You’re right, Jack. The great cat in the zodiac is the Tiger, king of beasts. But there are four beasts even greater than he: the Phoenix, Tortoise, Kirin, and Dragon. But of those, only the Dragon is in the zodiac.”

  “Fascinating,” I say dryly. Kirin, I remember, is the Japanese version of Ch’i-lin, the dragon horse. That was in my reading. This is all getting too close.

  “Kirin,” I repeat, and point to a man drinking a Japanese beer of the same name; the creature is on the label. “Obviously the great spirit of beverages.”

  “I’m tiring of games, Jack. I require your assistance—”

  “Sorry,” I say, “but I make it a policy not to get involved in police business.”

  “I can be very persuasive, sir. Very persuasive.” He says it as a threat. I analyze him quickly in my mind: his eyes, confidence, posture. Nagashi may very well be who he claims; all the signs read that he is indeed an officer of high authority. He’s not bluffing.

  Maria bumps into me from behind—her flirtatious way of announcing her presence—and scares the shit out of me. I turn away from Nagashi’s intimidating stare and gently push Maria back several steps by the waist, away from prying ears.

  “I didn’t give you permission to touch me.” Whether she’s truly offended or not, I can’t tell.

  “Well?” I demand.

  She tips her tray. On it is a new napkin: Room 205, 8:00.

  “Don’t get excited,” she warns. “I didn’t write it.”

  Finally, confirmation on Ming. And this appointment is almost three hours from now, which is smart; it gives us plenty of time to work our way out of the casino and be forgotten. But what if Ming doesn’t know about this Customs Agent Nagashi? Or about the Samoan and his friend, or Petey Jackson, who all might also be involved? I have to warn her, even if it is risky.

  “Thanks,” I tell Maria, no longer whispering. “I knew they’d come around.”

  I crumple the note up in my hand, turn to give the man in black a nod, and head straight for the Princess Room.

  Sixteen

  The man at the door barely fits into his red Dynasty blazer. He looks at me and my jacket, unyielding.

  I lie to him. “Maria said I was okay.”

  It takes a second for him to consider this, then: “Fine. Right now, only craps and pai-gow are being played. If you want Texas hold ‘em or roulette, you’ll have to wait until they open the Prince Room.”

  I thank him and hand him a random chip, hopefully one of the twenties and not a five. The rest, I’ll keep in my pocket. If the dealers see what little money I’ve got, they’ll send me right back outside.

  Ming and her companion are at the pai-gow table, so for now I step up to the dice arena; I don’t want to be too obvious. And I’m not; neither of them even noticed me coming in. They may not have seen who sent the note.

  There are four gentlemen and two ladies shooting craps, and four men and Ming playing pai-gow. That doesn’t include her boyfriend, who’s not playing anything.

  I stand with half-hearted dedication with the craps crew, paying more attention to the pai-gow game. I never played much during my time in Vegas—I was gambling away my future on stage magic and dancing girls, not cards—but I did enjoy pai-gow. It’s like playing two hands of poker at once, and you can organize your hands as you like. It’s also pretty common to push, winning one and losing one, so you don’t always give up your ante even if you don’t win. Allows for a little more stamina.

  Ming’s stamina, however, has about run out. She’s slumped and tired, almost haggard. Long day of gambling, I wonder, or something more? Next to her, on the edge of the table, is a big red book with Chinese characters on the cover. Her beau, tall and menacing, is staring out of the room again. Is he looking for me, or someone else?

  Two dice are suddenly shoved under my nose.

  “Sir?”

  I blink back to my immediate surroundings and find everyone at the craps table is staring at me.

  “Uh, no thanks. I’m waiting for everyone else to use up their luck first.” My joke gets a couple of warm chuckles and the dice go on to the next person.

  Ming reaches over her shoulder. Her guard takes her hand but continues to look elsewhere. She turns, finding his attention has wandered again. Her face flashes angry, then fades to disappointment. Her hand drops away and falls to the book, resting there.

  Interesting.

  “How about a drink, sir?” Maria elbows me in the ribs. She whispers into my ear, “I never said you could come in here. You’re pushing it.”

  I gently touch her back and shuffle us into the corner for a private conference. “Tell me about the pair at the pai-gow table.”

  “I thought you said they were your friends?”

  “I thought you and I were friends, too,” I say, pressing another chip into her hand.

  “They’ve been here for a while—playing, watching, arguing.”

  “Arguing about what?”

  “I don’t know. They only speak in Mandarin. That’s a translation dictionary next to her.”

  I stare at Maria, waiting for her to tell me more. She stares back. There is more, I can see it on her face. “Well,” I say at last, “I’m a little disappointed in you. I thought you were more talented than that. Didn’t think a little thing like Mandarin would get in your way.”

  She breaks away, snatches an empty glass from the man rolling the dice, asks if he wants another, then twirls back to me and leans in close, our noses almost touching. “They’re here on business,” she whispers, “but they disagree about it. The man’s watching an American in a bright-colored shirt, but it sounds to me like he’s more interested in finding a woman. ‘She’s here,’ he said, and I could see the woman was heartbroken. Men!” Maria stamps my foot on the last syllable and struts out with her drink order.

  I can’t help grinning after her: she is talented, after all.

  Okay, no more time to waste.

  I round the craps table and get caught in the bodyguard’s glare. His eyes are as dark as the new moon.

  “Who the hell are you?” he snarls as I close in on him.

  Doesn’t he know?

  “My cat asked to play—”

  “You’re Felix?”

  Ming turns at my boss’s name. There’s an eagerness in her eyes. Maybe she wants this to be finished as much as I do.

  “No,” I tell him. I give Ming a slight, courteous bow, then gesture to the side. The bodyguard and I step away. As we do, she places her hand on the book again.

  “Who are you?” he demands.

  “My name is Jack. And you are...?”

  “Poh. I’m Ms. Ming’s assistant.”

  “Yes, I can see that.” My tone has quickly become nearly as sharp and impatient as his.

  “Where is Felix the Cat?”

  “Back home, where he belongs. I take care of his business.”

  “You and another.”

  “Yes.”

  “The obvious one.”

  “Yes.”

  I can see Edgar’s yellow and blue shirt, too, even from here. As usual, he’s the life of the party. Beside him is a slender blue dress and small tan shoulders.

  “But we’re not the only ones here,” I tell him. “I witnessed some trouble on Saipan last night. And there’s a Japanese customs agent here in the casino.”

  Poh’s hard expression remains constant, but he’s thinking behind those eyes. “Then you should be treading more carefully,” he growls. “I returned the note. Eight o’clock.”

  “Yes, I got it. But I wanted to warn you.”

  “Fine, you’ve warned us. Now disappear. And when you come to the room, don’t come alone. Bring your friends.”

  I’m quickly tiring of this hard-ass attitude.

  “I only brought one friend,” I tell him. “And while he might look like a clown, I suggest you don’t piss him off.”

  The bodyguard’s hand seizes me above the elbow, his grip like steel.
“I see you all together! Bring her to the room. Or no deal!”

  I yank away, fighting down my rage but still meeting his gaze. And even as pissed as I am, there’s something behind his black eyes that unnerves me. I growl through clenched teeth: “We ain’t trading baseball cards in the schoolyard, asshole. I suggest you act like a fucking adult from here out. My partner and I will be there at eight. Be ready. I want this whole damned thing over with.”

  I walk out. A few stares follow me. Not the professional, low-key conversation I had planned.

  There’s nothing about this deal I like anymore.

  The Abyss? Nagashi’s fortune cookie may be right—I feel like I’m slowly sinking into a dark pool. The sooner we finish this and get the hell out of here, the better.

  Edgar’s playing roulette again, and it is Alma beside him.

  He sees us all together?

  Edgar’s winning streak has come to an end and he hits me up for some money. Alma’s chestnut eyes shine at me and she touches my arm.

  “Excuse us again.” I take Edgar to the side, give him a handful of cash, and ask for his key. “Meet me in your room at seven-thirty. And bring her with you.”

  He’s surprised by that last part. “I know I’m a charming devil and all, but what if she doesn’t want to come?”

  “She will. She’s just become a part of this deal. Or, more likely, she was part of it long before we were.”

  Seventeen

  I spend the next two hours exploring via the mental map Edgar gave me. I double-check back doors, service access, the swimming pool out back, and fire escapes. Then I get something light for dinner and wait in Edgar’s room on the sixth floor.

  At 7:40, there’s giggling outside.

  Eddie gives his knock to let me know it’s him and, when I open up, the two of them spill through the door. He throws a fistful of money at me.

  “Big winners! We played three different games and took away their money at each one. I’m telling you, Jack, these lips are magical!” He loops an arm around Alma’s thin waist and she plants a kiss on his bristly cheek. “Magical…”

  “Would you like a good luck kiss, too?” she asks, approaching me.

  “No.” I slip past her and close the door. “No more games. Edgar, please get the DeFaux from the safe. Alma...” I gesture to the bed, offering her a seat.

  Edgar’s jovial glow fades and he heads to the closet.

  Alma sits. “You don’t look happy,” she says. Her deep brown eyes are trying to penetrate mine, but my blues are steel now.

  “I’m not happy. I’d like to know why you came here.”

  “A little getaway. Some time off.”

  “From what?”

  “My job, my stale old life. I thought we talked about this, Jack? Didn’t we agree that we’re both wanderers, treading water in life?”

  “Yes,” I say, “but I’m not on the run. Are you?”

  Edgar comes out of the closet with the ‘49ers duffle bag. “What’s this about, Jack?”

  “There’s more to our sweet good luck charm than she’s telling.”

  Alma lowers her head.

  Her shamed little puppy act doesn’t faze me, though. “You’d better start talking. My patience is wearing thin.”

  “I am running,” she says. “And chasing. And if I’m right about you guys, then we have a lot in common.” She shines those eyes up at me. “I’m a thief.”

  Edgar lights up, surprised and excited.

  Not me. “Go on.”

  “You knew that, didn’t you, Jack? When we were gambling together, winning and losing together, talking… You knew there was something between us, right? A common thread, something that binds us together.”

  Alma reaches for my hand but I take a step back.

  Damn it. I want to trust her, but I haven’t gotten this far by falling for every line a pretty girl throws at me.

  Of course, I haven’t played blackjack with every pretty girl the way we did today. And she does seem an awful lot like me.

  In all my travels, I’ve never found anyone quite like me.

  “Keep talking,” I say. “You haven’t convinced me of anything yet. For all I know, you’re part of some setup. And I may have already met some of your boyfriends.”

  The sadness on her face disappears. She stands up and frowns with clenched teeth now, pissed and hurt. “Don’t you dare talk to me that way. Don’t talk to me like I’m some casino whore or con artist slut. I’m better at this shit than you. If there was something I wanted, I’d have taken it and been gone already.”

  “And what makes you think Edgar and I are thieves?”

  “Same way you know that’s what I am. Your instincts, Jack, your sixth sense. You have it. I saw you reading people in the casino. We’re the same and you know it.”

  I didn’t really try to give her a good read before. I dismissed her easily as a casino girl at first, and then I was too impressed and eager for her companionship to be critical at the blackjack table. But her voice is strong, as are her eyes. Her mind is certainly sharp enough to play any con or pick any lock. And she didn’t play the vulnerable pretty girl card when I confronted her, as I would have expected. I’m starting to believe her. Still…

  “There’s too many moving parts here. This fucking island is too busy with lowlifes for a simple little trade like we’re making. Why is this such a big deal? Why are you here, Alma?”

  She hesitates before answering. “I followed someone. I’ve been following him, and he’s been following me.”

  She folds herself up on the bed, her arms wrapping her knees. Edgar steps closer to comfort her, but I ward him off with a look.

  Alma continues: “We used to be partners in crime, literally. And more. But he became… increasingly controlling and jealous. And sometimes…” she pauses, choosing her words, “violent. I decided I was going to leave him, but not empty handed. We pulled a job together in Japan, and after a night of sake and sex, I thought he’d passed out. I was wrong.” Her hand goes to her face, eyes cast down in remembrance of pain.

  “And he’s here?” Edgar asks. “I’ll serve up his head on a plate for you, darling. You just point him out.”

  Her lips crinkle into a sad smile. “No, Eddie. Stay away from him. He’s dangerous.”

  “So am I,” Edgar replies with his wolfish grin.

  “You still haven’t answered my question,” I say. “Why did you come here?”

  “To steal them back.”

  “Steal what?”

  “Eight tiles.” She indicates a rectangular shape with her fingers, about the size of a playing card. “Collector’s items. Relics.”

  “If you’re so good,” I say, “why don’t you have them already? What’s stopping you?”

  “Fear.” Her gaze sinks to the floor. “I’m afraid of him. If he catches me…”

  “Then just forget about them,” Edgar suggests. “You can make a good living without those things.”

  “No.” Alma’s anger returns. “I want him to suffer for what he did to me. Besides, it was my job, too. It’ll mean something if I take them from him.”

  “Well, you’re going to have to forget about the tiles, anyway,” I tell her. “They’re going home with us.”

  “Hey!” Edgar’s face brightens again. “She can come home with us, too. You say they’re partly yours, so it’s a package deal. You and them, all back to Rails End. Felix could always use more talent. And a woman of your talents… can do things we can’t.”

  I shake my head, but Alma stands up, excited.

  “Really? You’d do that, Eddie?”

  “Hell, yes!”

  “No,” I say.

  “But we can’t leave her here, Jack. What if the asshole finds her?”

  “He already has. Tall guy with grey hair, right?” She nods. “He’s been watching you. And he says that if I don’t bring you along, there’ll be no deal.”

  Her face loses color.

  “We’re not going to do tha
t,” Edgar says plainly. He takes her hand and looks at me. “We’re not going to do that.”

  I stand silent for a long moment, but finally agree. “No, we’re not going to do that. We came here for a simple, professional trade, and you’re not part of it. Felix made a deal and, if he were here, he’d walk away before stooping to play Poh’s fucking game.”

  “And he’d invite Alma to join us,” Edgar says hopefully.

  I consider it for a moment, thinking of her safety—and my more selfish reasons—and begrudgingly... “Okay.”

  A victorious laugh cracks from Eddie’s throat and Alma gives me a quick hug.

  “I’ll go down to the meet first. Edgar, you call the airport and reschedule us for three tickets, out tonight. Don’t get excited yet, you two. We have business first, and reason to think it won’t go smoothly. There’s also no guarantee Felix is going to be happy about springing for an extra plane ticket. And, I’ll be carrying the merchandise at all times.”

  Alma shrugs her tan little shoulders and plants a kiss on my cheek. “Fine with me, boss.”

  A couple minutes later, I’m straightening my tie and giving myself a questioning look in the mirror.

  I’m still not sure about this. Any of it. But, what was it Nagashi called me? The leopard? You can’t catch a gazelle without first leaping out of the tree, right?

  “Okay, I’m heading down. Edgar, follow with the DeFaux in five minutes. Room 205. And watch your back.”

  I rub my nose with this last line; one of our signals, meaning ‘present company included’. Watch your back with her, too, Eddie.

  Eighteen

  The hall is quiet outside of room 205.

  I knock, and the tall, scary bastard answers. He stares at me with his black eyes. “You’re alone.”

  “For now,” I tell him. “And if you don’t let me in, it’ll stay that way.”

  Their room is nicer than Edgar’s—a large suite, the narrow foyer opening to living room space with a sofa and comfy chairs facing the television, a writing desk dividing this from the bedroom with a single, king-sized bed, this leading into the spacious bathroom. The one bed tells me that he and Ming are intimate after all. She’s sitting on it when I come in, but upon seeing me she stands, turns away, and wipes her face. Was she crying? If so, it certainly matches Alma’s description of Poh. Ming turns back and approaches me with a hand extended. Her eyes are puffy, her mascara a bit runny. She’s otherwise a beautiful woman, only the crows’ feet and a few strands of grey in her sable hair betraying her age. I shake and find that she has a strong, professional grip.