by Sean Black
This evening was decision time for them. There was going to be a debate. Princess wanted one thing. Joker and Pony wanted something else. Shotcaller would decide. At the end of it, Charlie might be dead or he might not. The real debate was over what they would do with Emily. Her fate would seal his.
21
The Red Tiger sat in his rental car. The Mossberg was hidden out of sight in the trunk, the Glock pistol concealed under his seat. He stared at the two guardian lion statues that stood sentinel-like on either side of the entrance.
In Japan they were known as komainu. In China they were called Foo-dogs.
They were a symbol of wealth. And of superstition. Like so many old parts of Chinese culture, they had fallen out of favor under Communism, but come back into fashion more recently. It was strange to see so many of them standing guard under a full California moon.
The Red Tiger had planned on going straight to the address that would end his journey. But when he was within a few blocks he had lost his nerve. He told himself that, first, he would take some time to explore Arcadia. In truth, he was scared. Scared of the reaction he would receive. This was one meeting where he couldn’t force the issue with a gun.
He crisscrossed the neatly manicured streets and avenues. No one gave him so much as a second glance. Why would they? A middle-aged Chinese man in a town full of Chinese. It gave him comfort to be invisible again. He guessed that was why places like Arcadia existed. You could move thousands of miles to be somewhere different and still yearn to be surrounded by the people you had left behind.
He stopped at a restaurant, sat at a bench and ate dim sum. It was hot and greasy and made him feel a little ill. He settled the bill, again using cash, and walked back to his car.
There was no point in delaying this any further. He drove back to the address. Even with the car’s air-conditioning running flat out, he was sweating. His heart raced. He turned onto the block. His heart rate quickened even more.
He drove slowly past the entrance to the house in disbelief. Two patrol cars sat outside.
The Red Tiger gripped the wheel with both hands. How? How could they have known?
He laughed to himself, the giggle of a madman. Of course they would know. He had hardly been subtle. He cursed his own stupidity. He had been so careless. His determination had left behind a trail of destruction.
One of the American police officers watched him as he drove past. Any minute now they would pounce. He would be pulled over and arrested.
What would happen afterwards? They could arrange for him to have an accident. Or would they use the guns he had in the car to send him to prison? He could have an accident there. It would be easy enough to pay someone to murder him inside an American prison.
That was what he would do if he were them.
His vision began to tunnel. He felt a pain creeping up his arm. His chest felt heavy.
Somehow he managed to keep driving. He glanced in the rearview mirror.
The patrol cars hadn’t moved. Nothing had happened.
They must be waiting for him to be away from the house. Yes, that made sense. Pounce when no one would see him.
A car was driving the opposite way down the street towards him. It had the four rings that signified it was an Audi. An expensive model from the badge. Fast. Nothing he could outrun.
The driver looked just like a cop, or maybe a soldier. Handsome, clean-cut, tall, muscular. Yes, this had to be it. This had to be the man who would take him down.
Now he had someone tangible to focus on, he began to come back to himself. He slowed his breathing. The pain in his arm and chest began to recede. A panic attack. That was what it was, his body reacting to seeing police officers waiting for him outside the house.
He slowed to a crawl, and reached under the seat, feeling for the gun.
He would not surrender. He would not go quietly. The Red Tiger would show his teeth.
The Audi drove past him. The driver stared at him, but nothing more than that.
What were they doing? Why hadn’t he been stopped?
It made no sense. It was almost as if they were playing a game with him. Allowing him to think they hadn’t seen him when they surely had.
He pulled over to the curb. He watched as the Audi stopped next to the two patrol cars. The man he was sure was a cop got out.
Maybe they had missed him. Or hadn’t recognized him. Maybe this was all a stroke of good fortune and he was passing it up by sitting there.
He placed the Glock on the passenger seat, ready if he needed it, pulled out and kept driving, his mind moving in a dozen different directions all at once.
If the police weren’t there to arrest him, what were they doing?
The way the Arcadia cops were staring at Lock, it was just as well that Ty wasn’t with him. He understood they had a job to do but so did he. They didn’t seem to grasp that inside the house didn’t fully qualify as part of the crime scene because the kidnappers hadn’t been there.
“Sir, you’ll have to move your vehicle.”
Lock stood his ground. It was a public street. “I’m waiting for someone. As soon as he gets here, I’ll be happy to move.”
Just then, he turned around and saw the gate to the house opposite open. Li walked out. A little way behind him, the attractive young woman they had seen earlier was waving goodbye.
Li walked across to the Audi. His face was a little flushed, and he was lifting his jacket to tuck his shirt in. “I was asking her if she’d seen anything,” he said to Lock, unprompted.
Sure you were, thought Lock. “I have some news for you.”
“Come on up to the house,” said Li.
“I can tell you here. The cops are going to need to know in any case,” said Lock.
“Don’t worry. Whatever it is, I’ll make sure to pass it on. And I have something for you in the house. We think it might help with your inquiries.”
“Okay,” said Lock.
The Arcadia police policy that barred entry to the house lasted as long as it took for Li to make a phone call. The patrol cops stood aside as Lock followed him up the driveway on foot.
“The neighbor see anything?” Lock asked.
“What?”
“You were over there asking her if she’d seen anything.”
“Oh, yes. No, she was asleep,” said Li.
“Does her property have cameras?”
The question seemed to spook Li. “I’ve n-no idea,” he stuttered.
Lock made a mental note to speak with her. He couldn’t imagine that she had any involvement, or that anything she had going with Li would be relevant. Then again, you never knew for sure where a conversation would lead. Li wasn’t telling him and Ty everything. That was one thing he was confident of.
“So what did you want to tell me?”
They were in the kitchen. Lock studied the knife block, one still missing. He told Li about the very end of the footage, the gang member throwing the sign and what it meant. Li looked suitably troubled by the news. “If these people are as bad as you say, they may already have killed them,” he said.
“It’s certainly possible, although somehow I doubt it.”
“Why? You just told me that they’re very violent and unpredictable.”
“Violent, yes,” agreed Lock. “The unpredictability is all relative. I don’t think they planned on taking Charlie and Emily. That was something that fell into their lap. But if it was a case of eliminating witnesses they could have killed them here. Not that Charlie and Emily could have identified them anyway.”
“So they’re alive?” said Li.
“I don’t know for sure. But I doubt they would take two people only to kill them and dump the bodies. Plus, the higher up you go in these organizations the more measured the people are. They know these two kids come from money. The cars say that much. And they saw the house. So they must realize that someone would pay for their safe return.”
“The money’s keeping them alive?” said Li.<
br />
“Money can make you a target, yes, but it might also be the key to ending this.”
Li smiled. “Emily’s father would like you, Mr. Lock.”
“And why is that?”
“You think along similar lines.”
Li walked across the kitchen and opened a kitchen cabinet. He pulled out a black attaché case. Lock watched as he laid it on the counter and snapped open the catches. He held up the open case with a flourish worthy of a Vegas magician.
Lock stared for a second at the contents. “What’s that for?”
“It’s for you to use as you see fit,” said Li.
22
There must have been a hundred thousand dollars in the attaché case, all in hundred-dollar bills, neatly bundled, strapped and fresh from the bank. Lock lifted his eyes from the cash to Li.
“We thought it might help loosen some tongues,” said Li, giving the impression of someone who was immensely pleased with himself at having thought of this masterstroke, even though he had admitted only moments before that it had been his boss’s idea.
“I’m sure it would,” said Lock.
“I sense you’re not fully onboard with this, Mr. Lock.”
“You kind of sprang it on me,” said Lock.
“I’m sorry. I thought it would be welcome.”
Lock’s fingers tapped the edge of the kitchen counter. He was thinking it through. Cash was a useful tool when it came to gathering information. That was why people offered rewards for missing pets and missing people, as well as for information in other crimes. It was an incentive that everyone understood.
The problem was that offering a reward, even if you didn’t publicize it openly, drew all kinds of strange people out of the woodwork. Any major crime, such as murder or kidnapping, attracted psychics, conspiracy theorists, trolls and all manner of society’s fringe characters.
Something else troubled Lock about using cash in a case like this. If it got back to the gang holding Emily and Charlie that someone was throwing around dollar bills like confetti, it might raise their expectations.
He put that to Li, who listened patiently.
“I see what you’re saying.”
“Listen,” said Lock. “I’ll take it. We’ll use it if a situation arises where it would help. And I’ll account for every cent. Any of it that’s not accounted for, you can deduct from our fee. I want you to make that clear to the family.”
“No one has ever doubted your integrity,” said Li. “That was why we called upon you.”
“I thought you called me because I push the envelope.”
“There were many factors,” said Li.
He was smooth. Lock had to give him that much.
Li snapped the attaché case shut and handed it to him.
“Make sure you tell the cops about the MS-13 involvement,’ Lock reminded him. ‘Or would you like me to handle that?”
“No, I’m already serving as liaison between them and the family.”
“Yeah, that’s probably best,” said Lock.
Lock rang the doorbell, stood back from the door and waited for the neighbor to answer. He had the attaché case in one hand, and his cell phone in the other. He had just told Ty about Li’s gift. Ty was, as Lock had anticipated, pretty excited.
“You know where you can get really good information?” he asked Lock
“Where?”
“Titty bars,” said Ty.
Lock sighed.
“Wait, hear me out. Man, people tell strippers all kinds of crazy stuff. When someone has to get something off their chest, it’s either strippers or priests. They’re the top two confidants.”
“Where did you read that? Lock asked him. “The Wall Street Journal?”
“Think it was Forbes.”
Lock couldn’t respond to that.
“You’re not going to let me drop any of that cash in strip clubs, are you?”
“No, Ty, I’m not. We have two kids in the hands of MS-13, or did you forget that?”
“Come on, brother, I’m just trying to lighten the mood a little.”
The door opened to reveal the extremely attractive young lady whom Li had been visiting with when Lock arrived.
“Ty, I have to go now.” Lock terminated the call before Ty could say anything else about strip clubs. His partner had the kind of voice that carried, even when he was on the other end of a phone line.
“Sorry to bother you, Miss. I’m an investigator working on the incident across the street. I wonder if I could ask you a couple of quick questions. It won’t take too long.”
The way she hesitated, he wasn’t sure if she spoke English. From what he’d gathered in the short time since they’d taken on this case, Arcadia didn’t only house the so-called parachute kids: a whole other section of young people lived in the McMansions.
The other group was composed of young women who served as ernaicu, or mistresses. They were stashed in Arcadia and the surrounding area, as well as certain cities such as Shenzhen back in China. A man like Emily’s father could come see his kids, then hop next door for some quality time with his young girlfriend. The proximity in age made Lock’s stomach churn, but private morals weren’t his concern right now. Rich old men had always sought access to attractive young women.
“I don’t speak good English,” she said, the words perfectly contradicting the apologetic little shrug that accompanied their delivery.
Lock knew he had her. He didn’t speak Mandarin or Cantonese, and perhaps she didn’t speak English beyond a few key phrases. But none of that mattered. All that did was that she knew what he was saying to her.
“Miss Po, I promise this won’t take up much of your time. But it would be in your best interest if you spoke with me.”
She seemed startled that he knew her name. It was an old trick. Simple yet effective. Like telling someone you were a detective or investigator and allowing them to assume you were with local law enforcement.
After a flash of unease, she regained her composure. She began to close the door.
“I saw Li leaving,” said Lock. “How do you think your sponsor would react to you entertaining at home like that?” It was a low blow, and he didn’t feel that great about throwing it into the mix. But desperate times called for desperate measures. At least he had been polite enough to use the word “sponsor” rather than something more literal.
Galante had already run a check of the neighbors, and it had turned up not only her name but something else that had caught his attention. Miss Po wasn’t just anyone’s mistress. A search of property deeds had shown that this house and the one directly opposite had been purchased six months apart by the same Chinese corporation. On one side of the street Li’s boss had a house for his daughter. On the other he had a house where he stored his mistress.
Lock didn’t know if it was ballsy, dumb or both. At least the man had the decency to have his mistress live in the smaller of the two properties.
Miss Po glared at him as she opened the door.
“Thank you, “said Lock, walking past her.
She closed the door. “Take off your shoes,” she snapped.
He reached down and took them off. She was angry. That was good. Emotional people let things slip that they shouldn’t. They didn’t have to say anything. A reaction could answer a question more clearly than a simple yes or no.
They sat in the living room. Lock perched on the edge of a couch that was identical to the one across the street. He wondered if the same person had done the furniture shopping for both houses. With this kind of money it was likely an interior designer had selected everything.
Buying a multimillion-dollar mansion for your mistress would seem extravagant, even outlandish to many people, but Lock knew there was a cold logic behind it. For a start it would be what the British termed a grace-and-favor property. Miss Po didn’t own it. She was living there rent free. But it was an arrangement that depended upon her sponsor’s goodwill. It could be withdrawn at any point. She kne
w that, which was why she had backed down when Lock had mentioned having seen Li leave.
There was an additional factor. Property was an investment. In Arcadia where prices had climbed year on year, it was an excellent investment with a spectacular return. And it all came down to one thing. Men like Emily’s father had purchased property in California for the same reason that Russian oligarchs had snapped up half of central London a few years previously. They were both countries where property rights were respected and the government didn’t take it from you on a whim. The same couldn’t be said for Communist and formerly Communist countries.
Lock took a better look at the young woman sitting across from him. She was tall and attractive with sharp cheekbones and big eyes. She would turn heads walking into any room. She had won the genetic lottery and leveraged what she had to get herself this far.
“What did you want to ask me?” she said.
She was still irritated. That was fine with Lock.
“I expect the same things that the police asked you. Did you see anything? Hear anything? Did you notice anything out of place in the last week?”
She shook her head. “I heard the cars leaving when it happened. There was shouting too. I didn’t think anything of it. I thought Charlie was having a party.”
“You knew Charlie?”
“I know his name. I never spoke to them. Chan would talk about them.”
Chan was Emily’s father, Charlie’s uncle. Her sugar daddy. Li’s boss.
“Do they know who you are?”
She smirked. “Maybe. I doubt it.”
“Do you care?” said Lock.
“Not really, no.”
“What about Li? How well do you know him?”
“He was worried about me. That was why he was just over here. He wanted to make sure I was okay.”
Lock didn’t say anything to that. He let the silence play out. Another old trick that worked more often than it should.