Fall Guy

by Scott Mackay

  “Head for open water,” said Mok.

  Mok spoke English without a trace of accent, a flat, generic, mid-continent North American English. They sliced through the water, Gilbert leaning against the dead man to keep control of the boat, the right leg of his pants absorbing blood like a surgical dressing. So many small boats out here. He weaved in and out, dodging them like a skier through a slalom.

  “Can we move this guy?” he called. “It’s hard to steer.”

  Mok remained silent, kept his gun pointed at Gilbert’s head, scanned the horizon, then looked behind the boat. As they moved out into the harbor, the waves grew larger and the boat rocked. Spray flew over the bow. Mok turned around and looked at the horizon again. He finally nodded.

  “Okay,” he said. “Move him.”

  Keeping one hand on the wheel, Gilbert grabbed the dead man by his collar, dragged him from the chair, dumped him in the middle of the boat, and sat behind the wheel. He clutched the throttle and pulled it back, hoping to gain a measure of control by slowing the boat down.

  “Keep going,” called Mok, flicking the gun forward. “Push it back up.”

  Gilbert reluctantly pushed the throttle back to full. “Where are we going?” he asked.

  “That way,” said Mok.

  They passed the western tip of Hong Kong Island and headed well out into open water, leaving the city far behind. Gilbert saw a few low peaks rise out of the surf ahead of them.

  “Take that channel over there,” said Mok.

  Gilbert steered to the right and negotiated a channel between two islands, afraid but controlled, not yet sure what Mok planned to do with him. Beyond the two islands, the sea once again opened up.

  “Straight that way,” said Mok.

  They traveled west for another ten miles, covering the distance in twenty minutes.

  “Okay,” called Mok, “cut the throttle.”

  Gilbert eased back on the throttle until it clicked into the neutral position.

  “Now come over here,” said Mok.

  Gilbert got up from behind the wheel. He stepped over the dead man. Mok kept his finger poised on the trigger.

  “Sit over there,” said Mok, waving the gun at one of the backseats.

  Gilbert did as he was told.

  “Put your hands behind your back.”

  Again, Gilbert did as he was told.

  Mok tied his hands behind his back with the dock twine he had cut from his own, looping it around Gilbert’s wrists, then around the chair, making sure Gilbert couldn’t get up. Mok then stuffed the gun into the waistband of his jeans. With this done, he grabbed the dead man, and with surprising strength, hoisted him to the side of the boat and dumped him overboard. He turned to Gilbert.

  “I didn’t want to kill him,” he said. “He was actually a friend of mine. But what choice did I have?”

  Mok got into the driver’s seat, pushed the throttle forward, and headed northwest, out into the open sea.

  Twenty-One

  They drove for a long time through the darkness. Sometimes Mok looked behind the boat, checking for pursuers. Sometimes he looked at the sky. Gilbert tried to keep track of direction but because the moon went behind the clouds again, and Mok made so many crazy turns, he eventually gave up. Northwest, northeast, due north, that’s about all he could make out. Gilbert saw no land, no boats, no islands anywhere.

  Mok finally slowed the boat and cut the engine. The outboard motor coughed a few times and shuddered to a stop. Cutting the engine way out here didn’t seem particularly prudent to Gilbert—what if it didn’t start again?—but there was nothing he could do about it. The silence was like a shock, sudden and disorienting. The shifting clouds, brightened by the moon, provided just enough light to see by. Mok went to the back of the boat and tossed a twenty-pound anchor overboard. He then sat in the seat next to Gilbert and peered at the detective.

  Mok had a handsome face, his skin smooth, dark, molded over distinctive cheekbones. Gilbert couldn’t help thinking of Foster Sung. Sung had similar cheekbones. Mok’s long black hair had some curl, unusual for a Chinese. So did Foster Sung’s. The moon struggled out from behind a roving pack of six or seven clouds.

  “You know how to be quiet,” Mok said. “I like that.” He gazed at the bubbles in the water where the anchor sank. “I remember you. From that night on Boulton. And I know why you’re here. You’re here about Edgar, aren’t you?” Mok grinned, as if he somehow found the thought of Edgar amusing. “You’re here to arrest me, aren’t you?” He shook his head, grinning even wider, as if behind this one isolated moment, this strange and increasingly protracted moment, there existed a vast construction of fact and circumstance he somehow couldn’t help feeling happy about. “Let’s talk about Edgar,” he said. His eyes were congenial now. “He’s the soup of the day, isn’t he? He’s the reason we’re here. Funny how a dead man can have such power over our lives.” For a man so young, Mok sounded self-assured, was at ease with the situation. “I understand what you have against me.” He turned to Gilbert, his grin widening to a smile, as if he had nothing against Gilbert personally. “I know about the gun, the bullets, the blood, and your witness.”

  In the scant moonlight, Gilbert studied Mok’s face, waiting, trying to find something predictable in this unpredictable man. Gilbert wasn’t sure how Mok could know about the evidence—but he did, and that was that. He was a connected gang member; no doubt he had his sources; maybe even sources leading right back to 52 Division’s corrupt police ring.

  “You didn’t have to kill the boat driver,” said Gilbert.

  Mok’s face settled. He looked at Gilbert, an unwelcome challenge in his eyes; he stared at Gilbert for close to ten seconds, then turned and looked into the water, as if trying to find in its murky green depths an explanation for why his life had become so crazy. He seemed to lose track of time as he stared at the water, of where he was and whom he was with.

  “I’m sorry I had to do that,” he finally said. “But what choice did I have? Hoi would have killed me.” Remorse flickered in Mok’s eyes. His shoulders sank. His previous challenge was now replaced with regret. “Hoi has a wife. He has two small girls.” Mok shook his head. “One of the first things I’m going to do when I get back to Hong Kong is give some money to his widow. She’ll need it. So will her children. I have some money stashed away. I’ll make sure her kids are okay. I’ll make sure they’re looked after.”

  Mok stood up, walked to the front of the boat, turned around, and jumped onto the seat, a natural acrobat. He scanned the sea, still looking for pursuers, then glanced at the sky. The boat heaved up and down in the swell.

  “And as for Edgar?” asked Gilbert.

  Mok turned his attention back to Gilbert. He rocked his hips in time to the waves. He was handsome. He was capable. But he was also unnerving. He carried the gun loosely in his hand. “As for Edgar,” he said. He shook his head, at first slowly, then more quickly, and the smile came back to his face. He looked as if he were going to laugh about Edgar. “As for Edgar…” He paused, as if Edgar were an enigma he still hadn’t figured out. Mok looked at Gilbert. “That scar on Pearl’s face?” he said. “You’ve seen it?”

  A few waves slapped the side of the boat. “I’ve seen it,” said Gilbert.

  “Edgar did that to Pearl.”

  “I know.”

  Mok’s face settled, as if he were disappointed that Gilbert should know about this already. “But do you know why Edgar did that to her?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “Because Bing Wu made him do it.”

  Gilbert’s eyes narrowed with puzzlement. “Bing Wu made him do it?”

  Mok nodded. “Bing Wu won’t be dishonored by anybody,” he said. “Isn’t that ridiculous? He thinks up punishments for people who dishonor him. Retired people like him have nothing better to do. He made Edgar slash her face. That’s why the scar looks so neat and careful. He made him slash her face as a punishment and a warning to both of them. It was eithe
r that or be killed.” Mok rested his hand on the windshield of the boat. “Isn’t that the craziest thing you ever heard?” Mok smiled, as if he believed such cruelty otherworldly. “Bing Wu shows his love for Pearl by making her understand he owns her.” Mok nodded. “He made Edgar slash her face because Edgar was her lover. And as far as Bing Wu’s concerned, that’s dishonor. Someone should put the old fool out of his misery.”

  Gilbert now wished he had questioned Hukowich and Paulsen more closely about Bing Wu. A cloud poured across the moon like a spilled glass of milk. He wondered if in their encyclopedic file on Bing Wu they had anything about the marriage between Bing Wu and Pearl. Several questions came to mind. Why would such a young beautiful woman marry such an old dangerous man? How did they meet? Where did they meet? And what was the original connection between Edgar and Pearl? Was Bing Wu so far removed from everyday society that the facial mutilation of his bride might seem like a reasonable punishment for her infidelity? The cloud passing in front of the moon, in its transparency, took on pink and purple hues; the moon was just visible as a murky disk underneath. And if facial mutilation was a just punishment for a wayward bride, was there then not something warped about Bing Wu, something that should have scared Pearl off in the first place? How could she have ever made such a disastrous mistake? How could she have ever found herself in a seemingly unbreakable bond to the Hong Kong crime baron?

  Mok shook his head as the smile faded from his face. He continued. “She and Edgar had to be careful after that,” he said. “They really had to take it as a warning. You’d think the old man would realize his mistake. That in doing something like that to Pearl it would only make Pearl want to get away from him. But he didn’t. And Pearl wanted to get away from him. He knew she was trying to get away so he had her watched. He didn’t seem to realize that he couldn’t keep her as his wife by having his guys watch her all the time. But that’s what he did. How would you feel, having to live like that? Like you’re in prison. Guarded all the time. Having Peter Hope follow you around all the time. You would want to get away too. Pearl certainly did. So she and Edgar made up this plan. It couldn’t be any plan, not with Bing Wu watching her all the time. It took some doing but they finally got all the pieces into place. They were going to run away to San Francisco together. They were going to scam some drugs, or money, or both, and they were going to use that to start a new life in San Francisco. Go underground there for a while.”

  Gilbert remembered the quotes for flights to San Francisco on Edgar’s desk. “So you killed Edgar because Bing Wu knew he was going to take her away to San Francisco?”

  “No,” Mok said, surprised by this.

  “One of our informants tells us you were hired by the 14K to kill Edgar.”

  Tony shook his head. “No,” he said. “No, not at all. You’re not following me. I didn’t kill Edgar. It wasn’t me. It wasn’t me at all.” A short incredulous guffaw escaped Tony’s lips. “You miss the point, my friend. I thought you were a detective.”

  Gilbert was rankled by this. “Then what’s the point?” he asked.

  “Pearl killed Edgar,” he said. “That’s the point. That’s the real soup of the day. That’s the main course, too. That’s the fuckin’ bill with a tip, my friend.”

  Gilbert frowned. “Then why does all the hard evidence point to you?”

  Mok jumped from the seat of the boat and came nearer. “Piss on the hard evidence,” he said. “I’m telling you what happened, and I’m telling you for a reason. Pearl killed Edgar. I saw it with my own eyes. Who needs hard evidence when you’ve got a motive as big as hers?”

  “And what motive is that?” asked Gilbert.

  Mok calmed down. The light of the moon illuminated his face. “Edgar changed his mind,” he said. “There’s your motive. He told her he wasn’t going to take her to San Francisco anymore. There’s your motive. Three years in the planning, she’s living in fear of Bing Wu all the time, and at the last minute Edgar changes his mind and burns her. That’s her motive.” Mok shook his head, as if he truly commiserated with Pearl. “I don’t know whether there was another woman…but…Pearl thinks there was.” He raised his eyes toward the sea. The sea undulated. The waves rocked the boat from the south. “November was a strange month for Edgar,” he said. “Back in November, Edgar was always changing his mind. So I wasn’t surprised when he changed his mind about Pearl. I don’t know what happened to Edgar in November, but he wasn’t the same old Edgar I knew. He wasn’t the same man at all. He really had something on his mind.”

  Mok lifted a rusted juice can, lowered it over the side, filled it with water, and sluiced the blood from the driver’s seat.

  “Usually he’ll play with the…the other players,” said Mok. “But starting the end of November he played only for himself, didn’t give a shit about anybody, not even Pearl.” Mok lifted his hand to his face and rubbed his eyes with his fingers. “He hires on as a courier for Foster—that was part of his and Pearl’s plan to scam some drugs and money. He goes to Vancouver to buy some drugs for Foster, but then he hijacks the deal on the way back, steals the product from Foster and stashes it somewhere. Foster won’t kill him. He can’t. Not when he feels the way he feels about Edgar’s mother. Edgar and Pearl are going to split the product. But Edgar rips her off. Half that product is Pearl’s. She helped broker the deal with Bing Wu in the first place. She gets burned. There’s your motive, my friend. There’s your full-course meal.”

  Mok paused. He folded his arms in front of his chest and shook his head. Gilbert thought about it. Edgar going to Vancouver. He had Detective Pam Nichols’s report sitting in the case file at headquarters, verifying Mok’s claim. Edgar squirreling away a multimillion dose of China White. He had that dose sitting in the evidence locker at work, verifying Mok’s story yet again. He was beginning to believe Mok. He stayed quiet, let Mok continue.

  “He’s got all this product,” says Mok. “He has everything he needs to start over in San Francisco with Pearl. But then he makes the big mistake of saying no to Pearl. Of turning around and burning her. And not only did he burn her, he broke her heart as well. And breaking her heart like that just pushed her over the edge.”

  Mok leaned against the side of the boat, got more water, and washed away yet more blood. The man looked exhausted, hungry. Gilbert remained silent. He had the wire. He was getting all this on tape. He would just let the man talk.

  “Pearl asked me to talk to Edgar,” said Mok. Mok put the juice can down and turned to Gilbert. “But I tell her it’s probably better if she talks to him. Edgar and me don’t get along, and for some reason, near the end of November, he detests me more than ever.”

  More corroboration, thought Gilbert; Rosalyn Surrey telling him how Edgar had changed near the end of November, how a darkness had come over him. The detail stuck, seemed to charge the damp sea air between Gilbert and Mok. Mok tapped the edge of the boat a few times. What in heaven’s name could have changed Edgar?

  “I tell her that I’ll back her up, that I’ll go with her, and that if things get too rough, I’ll step in. She pays me. I do this. I earn money this way. I stand there looking tough. Like I’m a trained pit bull. Edgar doesn’t scare me. I can take him any time.” Mok shook his head, as if he were bewildered by everything. “He has the product somewhere, we don’t know where, but we go over there thinking we’ll be able to get it from him.” He scratched his wrist; Gilbert saw rope burns from the dock twine. “Pearl still wants to get away from Bing, and she says she’s going to need her half of the product to do that. So we go to Edgar’s. I say to her, here, take my gun, that little two-shot isn’t going to be worth much if things get out of hand.”

  “So you gave Pearl your gun?”

  “I gave her my gun.”

  The gun explained, he thought. Mok’s gun. Mok’s bullets.

  “She went up to Edgar’s apartment first,” said Mok. “Once she got inside she unlocked the French doors while Edgar was in the kitchen doing something. That
’s how I got in later on. The plan was, she would go in first I would sneak up the back way and be ready on the fire escape if things got out of hand.” Mok shook his head. “I spied on them from the back landing. Pearl kept moving around at first, talking and talking. She can talk a lot when she wants to. She was trying to convince Edgar. This went on for about ten minutes, her just talking, pacing around, moving her hands. Edgar just sat there, not saying a word. I could see Pearl getting madder and madder.” Mok nodded at the memory. “She started yelling. Edgar got up and gave her a shove toward the door, like he was trying to get rid of her. I got nervous. Things were heating up. Edgar had his gun on the table. I didn’t like that at all.”

  Gilbert remembered the clip of ammunition to the gun they had never found.

  “And I thought to myself, only a man hiding a lot of horse in his apartment keeps a gun on his table,” said Mok. “I decided I had to go in. Pearl was paying me to protect her, to help her get the product, so I figured I had to do my job.”

  “So you went in.”

  “I went in.”

  “And what did Edgar do?”

  “He lifted his gun and pointed it right at me. I thought for sure he was going to shoot me. I was unarmed. I say to him, ‘Edgar, calm down, Pearl wants me here, Pearl asked me to come. We just want to talk about this product.’ Then, before you know it, Pearl pulls out my gun. Edgar turns to her. ‘Put down the gun, Pearl,’ he tells her, but she just stands there, like she’s through with talking to him. ‘Put the gun down,’ he says again. ‘And then leave,’ he says. ‘I never want to see you again,’ he says. That’s when her face goes blank. I’ve never seen it go blank like that before. A few seconds later she pulls the trigger. I couldn’t believe it. Everything happened so fast. Bang. A single shot right in the gut. We just stand there. Edgar goes to the chair and sits down. He pulls some Kleenex from the box but he can’t hang on to it and he drops it to the floor. He looks at his stomach and he’s bleeding all over the place. He looks at Pearl. Like he’s really disappointed in her. Pearl just keeps looking at Edgar with this blank look on her face, pointing the gun right at him, as if she’s going to shoot him again. May comes racing up the stairs. You should have seen her move. I’ve never seen an old woman move so fast. She was practically flying.” So May heard the shot after all, thought Gilbert. “She comes in, she sees Pearl with the gun in her hand, and Edgar sitting in the chair bleeding.” Mok turned to Gilbert, his eyes widening. “May starts yelling at Pearl, ‘Put the gun down, put the gun down, put the gun down,’ and then she hurries to her son to see if she can help him. I just stood there doing nothing. I didn’t think things could get out of hand so fast. But Pearl was mad. I’d never seen her so mad. She just went right over the edge. Bonkers. But in a cold quiet way. It was the most amazing thing to watch.”