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

by Trudi Baldwin

  She listened further, then Mai cried out urgently, “Now Liang’s saying, ‘Father, I talked with Mai for several hours this week. It’s time that I truly change my ways. Forever. It is also time that I stop doing your bidding. I’m not really a son to you, just a diamond-toting mule, not a son.’”

  Both Mai and Michael gasped at Liang’s words.

  We could hear Hu’s hearty, cruel laughter start low in a guttural snigger, then grow, now echoing over and over. He drew his laugh out inordinately long, trying to grind Liang down to fine powder. The sound of Hu’s laughter rang out with such coldness, that even over Snoops, I could imagine his breath triggering icicles to form even on the blistering hot Arizona day. Hu was clearly the antithesis of fatherhood, if there ever was one. As his laughter grew even more prolonged, we could hear the others join in. It sounded like everyone in the jet was joining in the laughter to belittle Liang, probably out of fear of Hu. I could certainly picture Zaiid, though, as a willing contributor to the blaring abuse.

  Finally, the laughter died down. Hu’s voice carried through Snoops with Mai translating. “You call yourself a son? What have you ever done to make me proud? You’re either shoving cocaine up your nose or draining dollars from every source you can find to support your gambling habits. I’ve supported you for years and years in return for some easy requests for transporting diamonds and drugs, but you’re so spoiled you’ll always fail. I’ve known it from the start. Both your mother and Mai ruined you.”

  There was a slight pause and a rustling of sounds.

  During the pause, Mai mourned to no one in particular. “Oh, Liang, my precious brother, what are you doing? You’ll never get out of this alive.” I began to feel guilt, hers and mine, settle on us like some kind of toxic gas sucking all the oxygen out of the car.

  After the pause, Snoops, our crystal ball, burst into sound again. Liang’s voice. A new Liang. For once in his short, unhappy life, Liang was choosing not to be belittled. His voice was now centered, strong, angry and clear, responding in English to the men on the jet. “I am no longer your son, Hu. You are no longer my father. You never were, anyway. No loss. No loss at all.” We all heard a loud click. Then he continued. “And, look, no diamonds. I’m no longer your little mule either. My briefcase is empty. Well, empty except for this gun.”

  Mai screamed. Liang’s voice resonated through Snoops, mature and unwavering. “I’ve come here today only to tell you that you and I are through. I’m turning myself into rehab as soon as I leave here. This gun is to ensure my safe exit. I’m not going to turn any of you in, but I’m not a part of any of this, anymore. Ever. I love Mom. I love Mai. I always have. I love Michael. These people are my family. Not you.”

  Now Mai was sobbing, “Liang, Liang, what are you doing? He’ll never let you do this! You’ll never survive.”

  At this point, we heard a struggle ensue. Shouting in both English and Cantonese. A gun fired. One shot. Then two. It was impossible through Snoops to understand what was happening. Mai was screaming, “Liang, Liang, Liang! My precious brother.” Sobbing.

  At that point, Michael had had enough. He switched to Plan B, throwing open the backseat door. “I’ll get him, Mai. You stay here with Sammy. I’ll go get him.” And with that he took off, running at top speed over the tarmac in the direction of the plane. It was so hot, the tarmac shimmered in waves. Michael looked like he was receding away from us into a mirage or a dream. If only I could wake up and none of it were happening.

  I watched in bitter fascination, not knowing what to do. Call Dad? Call the police. Call the watchtower? What?

  Then the worst happened. Long before Michael could reach Liang, I saw the ladder being drawn hastily back up into the body of the jet. The door shut and the Hawker careened back onto the taxi lane, twisting and turning instead of taking a straight path, as if a drunk were at the helm. Michael stopped in mid-run, as we all watched the jet attempt to lift off. Mai and I could hear screaming, cursing, crying all in a mad, masculine jumble emanating from Snoops. Beneath the garbled sounds, Mai’s moaning like a river rushed along.

  The Hawker left the ground. Ascended. Briefly.

  Then like a kite in too rough a wind, it began to cartwheel in the sky. Mai’s moaning erupted in a piercing scream. Michael resumed his mad run. I flipped open my cell and called 911, shouting the location and instructions into my phone. The plane tipped down on one wing. For a moment, I thought the jet might hold together and right itself, but it wasn’t to be.

  Snoops was strangely quiet except for rustling and an occasional groan. All the men on the plane, at least those still alive, must be jockeying for handholds. We heard the crushing and ripping of metal followed by a fierce, hollow whoosh, and the plane burst into flames. At this point screams more awful than any human sound I’d ever heard shrieked through Snoops.

  Mai thrust open her door, and began running, surprisingly fast, across the shimmering tarmac. The waviness of the air, with the added heat from the burning plane, increased the mirage effect. Both Mai and Michael were running away from me in a dream. Sweat popped out all over me and still I remained, immobilized, like a sitting, fucking, useless duck.

  Then a tsunami-sized adrenaline rush finally burst through my veins. I tossed the phone on the seat beside me after clicking it on speaker so I could continue directing 911. Shoved the Mazda into high gear and swung it so fast into the empty hangar the Mazda almost spun out of control. I leaped out, ran to the wall and ripped the fire extinguisher from its post. Flung it into the backseat and hurtled out onto the tarmac. I sped right past Mai, leaving her behind, because I hoped beyond hope that she’d never make it to the scene or ever see the horrors that surely awaited us.

  The jet sat in a mangled heap just off the runway. Far away, I could hear sirens. For the second time today. Not my day. A bad, bad karma day.

  Just then, the door of the plane opened and a fiery figure flew out, waving his arms hysterically and screaming. I prayed it was Liang, but it looked more like Karl. Hard to tell amid the licking flames.

  My Mazda reached the plane just as Michael arrived on foot. Michael had already given one glance to the burning man and turned his attention back to the plane. I parked the Mazda a safe distance away. Leaped out, grabbed the fire extinguisher and rushed to the door of the jet. Michael beside me. I began spraying all around the opening.

  Michael seized the fire extinguisher out of my grip. “I’m going in. Liang’s still in there!”

  He turned to give me one last piercing look. “Whatever you do, Sammy, do not let Mai inside.” With that, he rushed right into the gaping door of flames, spraying the fire extinguisher all around as he went. I stood there, dumbfounded.

  Then a hand slid up and gripped mine from behind. Mai had arrived on the scene after all. The dream could not be halted. She broke away from me to run toward the blazing plane. I grasped my arms around her and held her to me with all my might. She was sobbing, twisting, turning, attempting to escape my grasp.

  I listened to her crazed moans while I gripped her close to me with all the strength I had left. She kept repeating, “Michael, Liang, oh, not Michael too! No, no, no, not both of them…” Some of the saddest sounds I will ever hear I heard that day. I just held tight and did the job Michael had assigned to me, feeling hopeless and useless all the while.

  An eternity seemed to tick by. Mai would struggle, then go still, struggle some more, cry harder, go still. She was strong and wiry and determined, but she was no match for me. I held her tightly. Then, as the flames seared the sky, she gave up, and we both just stood there looking at the open door, my arms still encircling her. We could see fire licking and raging through the cockpit windows. Horrid black smoke billowed into the air.

  Finally, a figure emerged. It was Michael. He was carrying the still form of Liang. Liang’s scorched face looked skyward, his head hung back off of Michael’s right arm, his legs dangled down from the other. Michael held him delicately, like a baby. He stumbled and limpe
d toward Mai with more love in his voice than I’d ever heard before. “Mai, I got him for you. I got him. I know you love him with all your heart.” Then he collapsed in front of us, his precious package falling with him, onto the blistering pavement floor.

  By now, the sirens whined all around us. Hornets in droves. I looked back in the direction I’d driven. Emergency vehicles of all different shapes, sizes and colors were emerging through the wavy air: yellow, red, black and white, their sirens competing with each other in a searing cacophony of misery. I wasn’t sure anyone here could be saved. Mai and I gestured desperately to the first medical unit on the scene. “Here, here, here!” we both cried, pointing to the two still bodies in front of us, but I didn’t have much hope that anyone would survive.

  Then Mai dropped to her knees. I noticed she placed her hands tenderly on Michael’s face first. Then she reached for Liang.

  Useless? Hopeless? Empty? No words hold enough meaning to describe how I felt as I watched Mai cradle first one, then the other, of the lifeless forms in her arms. Her white pants, blouse, arms, cheeks and fingers all charred with soot as she swayed back and forth on her knees, moaning and humming words of inconsolable tenderness over the men she loved. Then, when neither man moved under her tender touch, she rocked back on her heels and let loose a keening wail into the air of such intense despair that even the scurrying crowd of emergency professionals stopped dead in their tracks, spellbound, as her universal cry of inconsolable grief racked the air.

  I was the first to move. I couldn’t take it anymore. I spun on my heels, ran to the paramedics. Begged them to hurry over to us and administer emergency care to those who were almost certainly beyond all hope.

  Chapter 47 - Denouement

  Swann Diamonds

  As it was, two survived. The paramedics did their job quickly and efficiently. Apparently, my offer of the fire extinguisher to Michael probably saved his life, and Karl’s early exit out of the plane saved his.

  Liang died. Liang, Hu, Zihao, the bodyguard copilot, and Curtis Chandler, the American lawyer, all died in the fire. Liang died from the complications of smoke inhalation and two bullet wounds, one in the stomach and one lodged partway into his brain. Ballistics confirmed that the bullets were fired from two different guns. The coroner couldn’t determine if the smoke or the bleeding killed Liang first. It was also unclear if the bullets lodged in Liang matched the guns of Zihao or Hu or both. The only bullet holes were in Liang. Ballistics also confirmed that Liang never fired his own gun.

  The police would probably never fully sort out what occurred in the cockpit of the jet that fateful day. When the interior finally cooled down enough for the police to enter the body of the plane, fifteen freezers were found. Though charred to black on the outside and dented, their contents had survived the fire perfectly intact. Ten of them were full, stuffed with layer upon layer of frozen humpheads destined for delivery to Fine Asian Delicacy warehouses in Phoenix and elsewhere. When the police sliced into the humpheads, small plastic sacks of pure grade cocaine were revealed in the intestines. The smell of the fish was so strong that the drug-sniffing dogs never caught on during the routine searches. All the freezers were white, except for one stainless-steel one set off from the others.

  Geo had been released from the hospital somewhere in the afternoon of the crash. Since he knew diamonds were involved, and his mind wouldn’t let go of the search, the second he got home with Kathy at his side, he’d flipped open his laptop and conducted searches on illegal diamond transportation schemes. He’d discovered that during the Vietnam War, a common practice for a few renegade soldiers and others wishing to smuggle out diamonds was to conceal them in ice, usually in the base of their soft drink cups. They’d simply board the plane, sucking on a soft drink loaded with ice intermingled with diamonds. Their luggage, if checked, would be contraband-free, and meanwhile, they’d transport the smuggled diamonds back to the states clutched in a soft drink cup. Geo relayed his findings to me and I relayed it to the police. When the smoke cleared and the body of the plane could be entered, sure enough, tucked away in the confines of the ice surrounding the humpheads in the stainless steel freezer were low-grade, consumer-quality diamonds.

  Most diamond schemes involve high-end diamonds, but, as it turned out, Hu’s scheme involved mid to low-end diamonds. Lots of them. Concealed in the ice and much less likely to raise suspicion when sold and much easier to transact than high-end diamonds that draw attention to themselves. As the police unraveled the trail of diamonds over the months that followed, they found Liang and Karl’s accomplice in Yellowknife, a clerk in shipping and packaging. The clerk had been routinely skimming off smaller sized consumer-quality diamonds to include in the shipments of industrials. With the support of the Canadian officials, he was extradited to the U.S. where he spilled his guts in response to a plea bargain offer.

  Consumer diamonds are worth fifty times more than industrial grade. Quite a mark-up in profitability. Even more so when you consider Hu got his diamonds for free. Well, if you can call things free when you lose the life of your son and your own life to chase that profit angle.

  One of Hu’s industries in China, among many, was a thriving jewelry trade. A large part of his diamond trade had been supplied by Liang and Karl. Further, the fluctuating price of humpheads was so high that Hu’s drug-dealing network within Asian Delicacies was able to launder loads of cash back to Hu for the cocaine he was delivering to them in the bowels of the fish. U.S. officials never questioned the high price for the humpheads as it’s hard to quantify the going rate on trendy delicacies; they swing so erratically.

  U.S. investigators began uncovering the details of Hu’s operations. Like a global spider web, one thread linked to another and another. The cunning and interwoven complexity of his business schemes revealed his undeniable entrepreneurial genius, albeit much of it on the dark side of the law. It was easy to see where Mai got her smarts and talent.

  Even though the Yellowknife clerk spilled his guts, Karl wasn’t talking. It was as if Karl had lost his voice entirely on the day of the fire. He refused to describe the final few minutes before the plane crashed, perhaps to avoid self-incrimination.

  Or maybe he was just too fuckin’ miserable to talk. He lay in the burn unit in St. Joseph’s Hospital in a nearly subhuman state of agony, having suffered first-degree burns over nearly forty percent of his body, perhaps a fate almost worse than death, the pain of recovery is so brutal and long. Karl would be severely disfigured for life. As would Michael.

  I didn’t really care what happened to Karl. I figured he’d reaped what he’d sown. I did make sure in the aftermath of the crash that someone went to Karl’s place to take care of his appies and his iguana. I arranged for Julia, my vet friend who also lived way out in Rio Verde, to make sure all of the animals would be cared for.

  Michael and Mai

  Michael fared the best, if such a thing can be attributed to any victim of serious burn damage. Michael had been hospitalized for the entire first month following the crash. One side of Michael’s face and portions of the right side of his body would be forever disfigured. His beautiful face now carried that slick-looking skin, the sign of burn. His right eye lost most of its sight and the skin now slashed down over the edge of it, obscuring his vision even more, giving him a lop-sided, alien look.

  But as a wise person once said, “When one door closes, another opens.” With the death of Liang and Hu, another door opened.

  After Michael risked everything and ran through the burning door to save Liang, Mai reopened the door of her love. She now looks at Michael with a tenderness and acceptance most marriages never achieve. Her eyes brim with love and often tears whenever she looks at him. I visited them in the burn unit on several occasions during Michael’s long recovery.

  Now four months after the crash as I have watched Mai and Michael together on the occasions when they’ve invited me over to their home, their love has become an inspiration for me, light-years ahead
of my own shallow aspirations with Mountain. But, hey, give me some time. I, too, might grow into a wise lover in my later years, especially if Mountain decides to hang around that long and doesn’t give up on me. We’re a little on the outs right now, but we’re warming up again. Give us some time.

  Say like twenty years, until I get an itch to settle down and marry.

  Speaking of marriage, strangely enough, Hu left almost everything to his wife, Ushi, including the huge, stately home high on Mummy Mountain overlooking Paradise Valley. When Michael had been out of the hospital for over a month and able to get around on his own, Mai flew alone to China and coaxed Ushi to return with her to live in the Mummy Mountain home that Ushi had inherited. Mai managed all the paperwork and politics required for Ushi to uproot herself, and also arranged for the move to America. Though Ushi had always steadfastly refused to leave China in the past and fly anywhere with her husband, she now had good reason to uproot herself and make a new home in Phoenix.

  Mai was pregnant. No one knew if it was the fertility drugs or her newfound love for Michael that finally sealed the conception, but the ultrasound tests confirmed a boy. Mai, Michael and Ushi were all present for the ultrasound confirmation. Michael told me later how tears welled up in all their eyes watching the ultrasound image and the little precious form swimming strongly about in Mai’s womb. They unanimously agreed to name him Liang.

  I hoped the new Liang wouldn’t get babied too much, but he was destined to grow up in a much happier, healthier home than his namesake. Michael would make a fine father, the opposite end of the spectrum from Hu. Besides preparing for a baby on the way, Michael had made other changes, too.

  New Business Direction for Swann

  The long stint in the burn unit had given Michael lots of time to rethink his life. It was during one of my many visits to the hospital that I had suggested my new business idea to him. My motives for the suggestion, surprise, surprise, were not entirely selfless. I hadn’t forgotten that if we could not only uncover the source of the losses at Swann, which we had, but also make suggestions for increasing their profitability, a sizeable bonus was in store for us. Once I put the bug in Michael’s ear, Mai and Michael privately discussed my suggestions.