Baby Brother Blues (Sammy Dick, PI Series: Book 1)

by Trudi Baldwin

  A semi in the middle lane up ahead barged blindly across, shifting over into my lane. All three cars ahead of me suddenly reduced to a crawl. Ai yi!

  “Liang just called me a few minutes ago. He said he loved me, but he had to do one last thing before he turned himself in. Sammy, I’ve never heard him talk like that before. He sounded brave and determined. Instead of weak and helpless, like he usually sounds. And that scares me more than anything. You have no idea how ruthless my father really is!”

  “Mai, this is important. Were you able to plant the listening device?”

  “Yes,” she cried. “Yes, though I felt like a traitor when I did it, but maybe it will give us a chance to protect him.”

  “I can begin following his cell phone movements, if he’s using a traceable number. I can’t listen in on his activities until I get home and get our machine running, which will be in about ten minutes.” I didn’t add if this friggin’ semi ever gets the hell out of my way, and, if I can even figure out how to operate Snoops without Geo.

  She recited the number Liang was calling from, but I told her to text it to me, since I couldn’t write it down.

  “The second I get home, Mai, I’ll try and figure out his whereabouts. Don’t worry. We’ll get everything under control,” I added lamely. Not remotely believing myself as I said it.

  “Oh, thank you, thank you, Sammy, for all your help!”

  Little did she know how helpless I really felt or how far off my prediction of getting ‘everything under control’ would be.

  Blessedly blind to the future, I clicked off the speaker phone, placed both hands firmly on the steering wheel, and glanced back over my right shoulder. Finally, a tiny space opened up. So I shot back into the middle lane. In a matter of seconds I’d zipped past the cement mixer, the semi, all of them. The freeway opened up ahead and I dashed all alone, flying at breakneck speed toward an unknown future, with none of my buddies beside me for backup. I had no idea what that unknown future held, but judging from the sound of Mai’s voice, it was scary.

  I made it home in less than ten minutes. Zoomed into our rickety old garage, hopped out of the Mazda, and ignored Snack who flapped into the kitchen through the doggy door bearing two slobbery tennis balls. Plopped them down at my feet. Looked up at me with happy expectancy.

  “Sorry Snack; gotta leave again.” I found the keys to Geo’s room. Made my way through a sea of black socks, underwear, who knows what. I flipped the light switch on. Electronics gleamed from every conceivable space around the room. Snoops, Snoops where are you? And, oh, by the way, just one little important detail, how do you work?

  I finally found Snoops in its big, cumbersome case, buried under some black jeans and a discarded black t-shirt in the closet. I dragged the case out of the closet, lugged it into the kitchen, and set it on the table. I flipped open the latches and looked at the complicated dials. Fiddled with them for a few seconds. Lost patience. “Fuck it. I give up,” I said and speed-dialed Geo in the hospital.

  A groggy voice answered, “Wassup?”

  “Trouble, Geo.”

  “You mean more than we’re already in?”

  “Yup, much more.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like how do I run Snoops when you’re in the hospital with a concussion and someone’s life is on the line?”

  “You mean like my life? I think my life was on the line today, but it’s hard to remember.”

  “More like your butt was on the floor, Geo.” Okay, I was being a little harsh. I was nervous and all alone. I tried to get a grip. “I’ll tell you the story in detail one day, but right now, you’re gonna have to tell me how to run Snoops from your hospital bed.”

  “I’m on drugs, Sammy. That makes it hard.”

  “You and half the world are on drugs, Geo. Try to concentrate. How do I turn this damned thing on?” In the background, I could hear Kathy asking Geo what was wrong.

  I admit I’m not the easiest of business partners to get along with, but the beauty of Geo was that anything electronic was irresistible. Even through his drug-induced, concussion-impaired haze, and even having to overcome a frantic, difficult business partner, Geo couldn’t resist the allure of troubleshooting.

  “Here’s how you start, Sammy,” he said, and then my good ol’ bud, Geo, proceeded to tell me step-by-step how to fire up Snoops from his hospital bed.

  Before long, Snoops crackled to life and the twangy Asian music Liang seemed to favor burst into the air. Sounded like Asian Rap, but I couldn’t be sure.

  Next, with Geo’s guidance, I switched on Investigatour and entered the cell number that Liang had used to call Mai. We were in luck. It was bleeping on the screen, a moving dot on a map. I zoomed in for a closer look. Liang was heading west on Dynamite Road. Perhaps he’d spent the night with Zaiid? At any rate, I had a bead on him. I called Mai.

  “I’ve got him on both instruments,” I crowed into the cell.

  “Oh, thanks be to God!” she whispered back fervently, making me wonder for a brief second what religion she was, but it was no time for a little chat. Mai continued anxiously, “I phoned Michael. He’s with me now. I think we’d all better follow Liang. I have no idea what he’s up to, but whatever it is, my intuition tells me his life’s in danger. Possibly grave danger, if I know my father.”

  “Okay, my advice is for you to take the 51 north, which will set you in the right direction for interception no matter which way he goes. I’m going to get all of this instrumentation into my car and head in that direction, too.” I so, so wished I had Geo, or somebody as a partner to back me up.

  I lugged all the instrumentation out to the Mazda and hooked it up on the splitter, and before long, I was flying back east on Greenway toward I-17, scanning left to right for cops when the Asian music on Snoops halted abruptly and switched over to country western. Liang’s voice followed, resonating through Snoops, loud and angry. “Hey, what’re you doing, Karl?”

  I jumped to attention.

  “Enough of your weird-ass little tunes, Liang. I’m switchin’ over to something better.” I began to make out some heavy-duty country western lyrics. “I still like bologna” rang out. Some more singing followed, something about “I’m still in love with my flat-screen TV.” I could hear Karl’s voice, raspy and masculine, jivin’ with his tunes, the kind of songs a man who breeds and raises appies likes. I might’ve started to laugh out loud if I wasn’t in such a serious situation.

  “Your taste is way more weird-ass than mine, Karl!”

  Karl’s singing stopped. “Since when did you get so uppity?” he replied sharply, clearly not used to encountering resistance from Liang. “By the way, what’s the exact time your dad’s supposed to land?”

  Even without Geo, I could figure out that this was a clue as to where the two of them might be headed. If dear old Dad was landing, they were probably headed for an airport. The bleep on Investigatour was nearing Pima Road. I’d be able to tell shortly which airport they were heading toward. If they didn’t make a left on Pima, they were most likely going to Deer Valley Airport.

  Liang’s voice now: “2:30. He’s a freak about time and since he pilots his own jet, he’ll be there on time, so we’d better be too.” There was a distinct edginess in Liang’s voice that came through, even over the bologna song. He added with undeniable sarcasm, “It’s always, always important to please Dad.”

  “I’ve figured that part out, Liang. He might scare you, but he doesn’t scare me.”

  “Then you’re a fool, Karl.” Liang’s voice sprang up at me through the Snoops loudspeakers: hardened, resigned, mature. No wonder Mai was afraid! Something was up.

  They seemed to have settled into quiet. The last of the bologna song played out. “I still like bologna on white bread now and then. And my 50-inch HD plasma with 500 channels at my command. Yeah, bologna, a woman’s love and a good cell phone.”

  The announcer attributed the song to Alan Jackson. I flipped open my own cell phone’s protec
tive cover. Punched in Mai’s number. “Mai, does your dad own a jet?”

  I was pretty sure I knew what her answer would be from Geo’s previous research, but I wanted to confirm. Making the right decision now was critical. “Yes, he keeps it at Deer Valley Airport on the north side of town when he’s here.”

  “Karl and Liang are together, heading west on Dynamite. They just passed Scottsdale Road. My assumption is they’ll make a left on Cave Creek Road. That goes directly to Deer Valley Airport.”

  “Oh, Sammy, do you think we’ll make it in time?”

  I doubted it, so I sidestepped Mai’s question. My reply was clipped and directive, “I suggest you stay on the 51 to the Cactus exit. That turns into Thunderbird Road. Continue until you reach 7th Street. Make a right and head all the way out to Deer Valley Road as fast as you can possibly go. That looks like the fastest possible route on the map I’m looking at. I’m sure you know where the airport is from there. I’ll be converging on the airport simultaneously from the west.”

  “Sammy, you won’t be able to get onto the airfield. They have secured access. We’ll need to meet up outside. We’re in a black Cadillac SUV. We’ll be waiting for you at the entry gate.”

  “I’m in a blue Mazda3.” I snapped my cell shut. Tossed it on the seat beside me. Merged back onto I-17 off Greenway and headed like a bat out of hell north, scanning all around me for cops and speed cameras. The time now read 2:10.

  My house is not that far from Deer Valley Airport. At precisely 2:22, I careened off of Deer Valley Road and entered the short road leading to the airport, spitting gravel out in an impressive spray from my back tires.

  I saw the guard in the guardhouse flip his head up suspiciously at my impressive spray. I decided to settle down, so I quietly pulled the Mazda over to the right-hand shoulder of the entry road. Scanned around for Mai’s SUV. Nothing.

  I slunk back down deep in my seat and began to worry about being spotted by Liang and Karl. Of course, if they were the ones who slashed my tires, as I was almost certain now was true, they’d both recognize my car, so slinking down wouldn’t protect me. Their bleep on the Investigatour screen appeared to be right on top of me. I shifted up slightly and scanned nervously around again.

  Still no black SUV in sight. A sleek, silver Porsche, however, was. Thanks be to God, as Mai would say. It was ahead of me, entering at the guardhouse. I must have missed it on my first scan, I was so intent on looking for black SUVs. The car looked like the exact same silver Porsche that sped away from my slashed tires and the parking garage. That now seemed so long ago.

  I could hear Liang’s voice talking to the security guard in his little guardhouse at the main entrance. The Porsche’s windows were tinted lightly, so from this distance, I couldn’t see within, but from the sound of Liang’s voice, I was sure he hadn’t spotted me.

  The gate arm swung up. The silver Porsche slid through.

  Still no black SUV.

  I waited. And waited.

  I heard Karl ask on Snoops, “Where is he?”

  Liang’s reply, “Over there.”

  My anxiety shot up so high I expected the roof of the Mazda to blow off.

  Finally, a black Cadillac SUV approached, speeding way too fast, on Deer Valley Road from the east. Michael driving, Mai beside him. They screeched up beside me. Mai’s window rolled down as I pressed the button to do the same. “Mai, you two need to get in my car, so we can use the equipment. We don’t have time to switch it over.”

  Mai nodded her assent. Michael swerved in front of me. Parked at the edge. They both jumped out and squeezed themselves into my little Mazda. Michael shoved himself into the back, then Mai slid into the passenger seat, carefully situating her feet around the bulky instrumentation.

  As soon as their doors slammed, I lurched the Mazda forward, almost laying rubber toward the security guard who was now eyeing me even more suspiciously. I’d kept my window rolled down, and as we approached him, he looked me up and down. Probably employing his Terrorist 101 Assessment criteria. From his sour expression, I’d failed the assessment.

  Luckily, Ms. Rainmaker, Mai, leaned over me. The guard must have recognized her from previous experience because his manner shifted instantly from ice to melting water. He smiled, and crooned, “No problem, Ms. Oversong. Of course,” and the gate arm swung up. I tried not to speed too fast in the direction Mai gestured.

  “So, Sammy, what’s the plan?” Michael inquired tersely.

  Not a clue! Didn’t seem like the appropriate response, especially for what they were paying me, so I said, “I’m open to your suggestions. My suggestion is that we just listen for now and try to understand what’s going on. The other idea is we insert ourselves into the situation and try to disarm it.”

  “I like Plan A. Plan B’s too dangerous. Besides, we don’t even know what is going on,” Michael responded.

  Mai jumped into the conversation, her voice trembling, “I’d go for inserting ourselves, but I’ve already done that, and Liang seems intent on doing his own thing here. Whatever that is. I don’t think he’d respond, even if we did show ourselves, so I’m at a loss. I, I really don’t know what to do…” Almost inaudibly, she concluded, “I’ve run out of ideas.”

  Later, the way things turned out, I was very glad we’d had this conversation. Perhaps if we’d chosen Plan B over passive Plan A, things would’ve turned out differently. As it was, we just sat there staring at Snoops as if the machine were some kind of crystal ball foretelling our future. And truth be told, it did.

  We’d parked against the edge of what looked like a maintenance hangar for jets. A corrugated metal building about the size of a twenty-car garage, but a lot taller. Jet-sized. The sliding door was up and I’d jutted the nose of the Mazda out far enough so we could see a portion of the building’s interior. Tools enclosed in a glass case lined the wall, and a fire extinguisher hung next to the glass case. No one was inside that we could see, but we didn’t want to scoot the Mazda out too far to avoid being spotted by Liang, until we decided what to do.

  We did have a clear view of the airfield, where about forty jets and other types of small planes were parked, if that’s what you call a plane when it’s stationary. Maybe the word was docked, but I was pretty sure that had to do with boats. What do you do with planes? Tether them? No, that was for horses and some kind of game with a ball on a rope stuck to a pole…

  This nerves-induced word search in my head slammed to an abrupt halt as the silver Porsche suddenly zipped across our view, speeding out onto the airfield toward a sleek jet taxiing away from the parked planes. Liang and Karl must be trying to flag down dear old dad.

  Even on the ground, Daddy’s jet inspired awe. How could you keep something so big so clean? Its whiteness gleamed in the shimmering Arizona sun. The two vehicles, jet and Porsche, now raced side by side. The jet neither speeding up nor slowing down.

  Snoops, which we’d hoisted awkwardly onto Mai’s lap after she’d scrambled into the car, burst into life. “Hu wouldn’t leave before we make our delivery, would he?” Karl’s deep voice.

  “To make a point and to make sure everyone knows who’s in control, he’ll do anything, Karl, and I mean anything,” Liang responded. The harshness in his voice clearly resonated throughout the interior of our Mazda.

  From the backseat, Michael explained for my benefit, “Hu has a pilot’s license and flies his own jet, usually accompanied by only one trusted aide, Zihao, who also co-pilots, and his ever-present American lawyer, Curtis Chandler.”

  I remembered that Mountain had said that Hu was always lawyered-up, further enhancing his powers of intimidation and invincibility.

  As we listened to Karl and Liang debate, Mai sucked in a quick breath, tears hovered in her lower lids, then sprang from her eyes and down her cheeks. “I don’t know what to do or what Liang has planned, but the resolution in his voice scares me,” she whispered.

  Me too, I agreed silently, not wanting to add to her heartache and fear.r />
  We watched helplessly as the Porsche sped alongside the jet in dangerous proximity, fishtailing back and forth to avoid being hit. Liang and Karl’s voices argued heatedly with each other, concerned with what to do.

  Then the jet slowed and eventually halted completely, pulling off of the taxi lane and into an open space. The Porsche jerked to a halt, too, screeching in beside it. Both vehicles were now stationed about a quarter of a mile away from us. I looked up at the flight control tower and saw a man with binoculars focusing his gaze onto the Hawker jet and Porsche.

  On Snoops, we could hear Karl and Liang talking among themselves. The door to the jet swung open and steep stairs descended. “Here goes,” Karl boomed out on Snoops, and the two men sprang out of the Porsche. Liang still carried his ever-present briefcase, listening device attached, courtesy of Mai. Karl carried a metallic briefcase as well.

  A figure, not Hu, according to Michael, appeared at the top of the stairs. We watched as first Liang, then Karl ascended up into the belly of the jet. “I think that was Zihao,” Michael said, “but they’re too far away for me to tell for sure.”

  The language on Snoops switched to Cantonese. “Mai, if you could please translate, that would help,” I pleaded, reluctant to know what was going on, but even more reluctant to be left in the dark.

  Apparently Karl spoke some Cantonese because he was the first to speak. “We’ve brought the diamonds, Hu. Our biggest delivery ever. I’m going to head to the back and store them.” Mai’s voice trembled as she translated. “Oh, Liang, how could you?” she added.

  After some more speech in Cantonese, Mai said, “Now Hu is speaking. He wants to know where Liang’s diamonds are.”

  We could hear an interchange of dialogue on Snoops.

  “Hu is demanding that Liang open his briefcase and reveal his diamonds.”

  There was a long pause on Snoops. Then the conversation resumed. This time, we recognized Liang’s voice. Mai hung her head down low and moaned, “Oh, no, no, no,” she whispered.