by Rick Santini
If nothing else, Mei Ling was determined. She refused to quit. It was a trait she learned many years ago from her older brother.
***
When is enough enough? I have more money than I could have ever dreamed of. The last shipment was over the top as to quality and quantity. I will never have to work again. But what do I do with it all? Who do I give it to? I have no living relatives.
Xiang Yeung had had this conversation with himself before. Nothing had changed except the pot kept growing bigger, and his greed had no restraints. He did not know how to quit. And if he did, what would he do then? His only hobby, his only joy was hurting people who disobeyed him. It gave him power, not that he needed more than he already had.
If my little sister were only alive today, we could travel. We could see all parts of the world. We could relieve the suffering of our people.
Xiang knew it was all a fantasy. He had checked many years ago. His parents had both died in the plague, and his little sister Mei Ling was taken to a charity ward of a small hospital. The records were long ago destroyed, but he had spent a great deal of time and money to verify there were no little girls that had survived. No, Mei Ling had died thirty-five, forty years ago.
At my age, with what I have accomplished, it would have been nice to have someone, someone close to share it all with.
Xiang had no way of knowing that someone was now less than forty-three miles away—with hate in her heart.
***
At times, most times, power, money, and exuberance led to sloppiness. The farther down the food chain, the sloppier the transactions became. Those who sold the “nickel and dime” bags were making so much money they were no longer careful who they sold it to. That led to arrests. It was easier for the teenage punks to rat on their bosses than sit in jail with no hope of making bail. The task force made it clear: give up a name or two, or rot in jail till you make bail. The judges were now all cooperating, and bail was set unusually high.
What should have been own recognizance or $5,000 bail was now $25,000. No way could a common street dealer raise that type of cash. The big boys were told be careful. Bail money could easily be traced to the original source, no matter how cleverly it was done. So the normal routine of supplying bail money was no longer in place. There had been a dozen or two arrests at the street level. The teenagers lost their cockiness after three or four days sitting on their asses in jail. They slowly lost their swagger. They began to cooperate. They gave up names in exchange for a quick release from jail.
That’s how the system worked.
Although the name Sonny Bananas was never mentioned, by connecting the dots, it was obvious the middle men worked for Sonny or were at least one step closer to him. The real question was, where did Sonny get so much good product, and how much had he scored?
Rumors flew, but no one had any proof.
The proof came from the most obvious source of all. The lawyers. The law firm of Gibson and Clarke were handling more and more of the bigger busts. On a few matters, there was a special appearance request by a Jack Renaldo from West Virginia.
“Isn’t that Black Jack Renaldo, the former US Attorney? What the hell is he doing up here? Who’s paying him and why?”
The answer was all too obvious.
The puzzle was slowly coming together.
Gibson and Clarke had filed notices of appearances in several cases in Newark where the defendants were in the employ of Xiang Yeung. Jack Renaldo was “of counsel” to Gibson and Clarke. Renaldo was now handling matters for known associates of Salvatore Bonnonnos.
“Bingo. Sonny is getting his supply from Yeung. We all know Yeung has his sources in China. How the hell does he get it from halfway around the world to downtown Newark without anyone knowing how or when?”
“If we cut off the head, the body will die.”
That was the thinking of the task force. Easier said than done.
***
“Are you sure? Are you positive? Absolutely positive?”
Mei Ling sat in a cubicle in One Police Plaza in lower Manhattan. She was told the heroin was coming from the Golden Triangle in China and the supplier was an elderly gentleman who now lived in Newark. He had never been charged or arrested for anything. He had been a citizen for more than a quarter of a century, having come from a place called Hangzhou in China.
His name was Xiang Yeung.
“I don’t believe you. It can’t be. Do you have a photo of him?”
Within minutes, a photo was delivered to the task force member. It was of a small thin gentleman in his early sixties. He was approximate five foot three and could not have weighed more than one hundred twenty-five pounds. He had long gray hair tied in a pony-tail and a small goatee.
Mei Ling stared long and hard at the photo of her brother. She said nothing though her heart was pounding. She gave no explanation before she left to the police officer, who sat there dumbfounded.
It can’t be. It just can’t be. Yet in her heart, she knew it was him.
CHAPTER 17
“Ni hao.”
The voice sounded vaguely familiar.
“Ni hao ma. May I ask who this is, please?”
“It is Mei Ling, your baby sister. The one who was left behind in Hangzhou when our parents sent you to our uncle when you were only fourteen.”
Xiang began to shake uncontrollably. Sweat was pouring out of every pore. He had trouble holding the telephone. He thought he was having a heart attack.
“It can’t be. After all these years…how is it possible? Where are you? When can I see you?”
“May you rot in hell, my infamous brother. May you die a slow, painful death, like all those you have supplied the fruits of the poppy seed. The seeds that caused the deaths of our parents. You are the most evil man I have ever known. I will see you when you are in court explaining to all those grieving parents why you did this to them.”
Xiang was about to explain when the line went dead.
Mei Ling had made sure her number had been blocked. There was no way the call could be traced. She felt better, but not much. She wondered how it had been possible for a fourteen-year-old boy who spoke no English to transform himself into such a powerful, evil person.
***
It was not until the following morning that Xiang was able to think clearly and decide on a course of action. He had to find his baby sister and explain. That was all that now mattered. The money, the power, the home, and all its surroundings no longer meant anything. He had to see Mei Ling, no matter what the cost.
He called Marta. They had to meet immediately. He would send a car to her place. She would have to cancel any and all appointments. He had to see her—now.
The black sedan was parked in front of her office fifteen minutes later. The driver did not shut the motor off. He had his instructions, and no one disobeyed Mr. Yeung.
“Find my sister. Her name is Mei Ling Yeung. She is now fifty-four years old. I do not know where she lives. It could be anywhere in the USA. She knows who I am and what I do for a living. I do not care how much it costs. I do not care who you have to bribe. Just get it done.”
Xiang went on to explain the circumstances of his departure to America, the fact his parents had died a few years later, how his younger sister was placed in a hospital charity ward, and what she said on the phone less than twenty-four hours ago.
“You are dismissed. Report to me at least once a day. I need results, not excuses. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Mr. Yeung.”
***
Marta had two sources to turn to. The first was Black Jack. He had been a US Attorney. He still had to have access to government records as to immigration and naturalization. He was not above paying for favors. That’s why they were granted.
Her other source was good old Rik. He would do anything she asked him to do if he still wanted late night dessert.
Men are so easy. Promise them what they want, and they will bounce off brick walls trying to acc
omplish what you ask for.
Marta didn’t care if the chauffeur was listening or if the damn sedan was bugged. She was given her marching orders and wasn’t about to waste a single minute of time by waiting till she got back to her secure office.
“The Mei Ling part is a killer. There must be a few thousand, probably more, with that name. If she’s married, who knows what her last name is. The age factor narrows it down considerably. As to the province, Hangzhou, that could be the life saver. Apparently,
It’s a small area one hundred kilometers from Shanghai. That’s our best bet. I’ll have the computer techs on it within the hour. Bye.”
Marta began to breathe easier. She then called Rik.
“Be in my office in a half hour. I don’t care what you’re doing or working on. Be there. Understand?”
Rik was trying to recall what he had done wrong. The phone call was totally out of order. There was no “please” or “thank you.” Just a curt “be there.” Be there he would.
The last call was to Billy Jo. She needed a sounding board. A strong, reliable sounding board. This was not what she signed on for. She was a lawyer, a damn good lawyer, a criminal defense lawyer, not a babysitter or wet nurse.
“Call me back when you’re in your office and the door is closed. I don’t want you venting on an open mike. Bye.”
Billy Jo hung up. Marta realized it was the best advice she’d had all day.
***
Xiang Yeung insisted upon being alone. He would see no one; he would talk to no one. He went into his private garden and ordered a pot of his special tea. It was the same tea he had sipped with his parents and little sister so many years ago. Xiang tried to recall Mei Ling and her personality. She was only seven or eight when he left home. There was not much to remember. She was a very determined, independent little girl. She insisted upon being given a reason for everything. Little girls in China are not given reasons. They are told what to do, and they do it. Not Mei Ling. She fought every decision her parents made.
He did not remember if she had been pretty or not. She was the little sister. She was very smart and spent most of her spare time reading. That was all he could remember. That and the fact she was very honest.
On one occasion, she found a fifty yen note in front of her home. It was worth the equivalent of thirty-five cents. She insisted on asking everyone in the neighborhood if they had lost anything. She would not tell them what she had found. When an elderly gentleman stated he had lost a fifty yen note, she asked if it were a new bill or not. When the gentleman stated it was very old and folded in quarters, then and only then did Mei Ling return it to its rightful owner.
Xiang fell asleep in the garden. The pot of tea was now cold and weak. It was late afternoon, and the sun still hung high in the sky. He had a slight smile on his face. He would make everything right. He would make his little sister pleased and proud of him. She would see.
***
Mei Ling was distraught. She decided she would make up her own dossier on her older brother. With the help of the internet and a few favors she would call in from friends in law enforcement, she would find out all there was to learn about her nefarious brother.
The results later shocked her more than she could possibly imagine.
My brother is a wealthy, wealthy man. Worth hundreds of millions. Back home, he would have been the richest person outside of Singapore. He never married and has no known children. He is in the most disgusting business in the world. How can he live with himself?
A thought suddenly hit Mei Ling. One she could not even contemplate. If he were to die for any reason whatsoever, and he was on every criminal watch bulletin in the country, she would be his only living relative. Their parents were dead, and he had never married or had children. She would inherit everything. She could run her own clinics. She could hire the best doctors and nurses and psychologists. She could buy new clothes and travel back to China to help her people back there.
I would be one of the richest people in New York.
That may have been a slight exaggeration, but not by much.
She hated her own brother and all he stood for, and if something bad, really bad, happened to him, she would be the sole beneficiary. That scared the hell out of her. It also got her to thinking.
What if? What if? OMG, what if?
CHAPTER 18
Rik sat outside her office and waited. He was not about to walk in until Marta arrived. As it happened, she was only two minutes behind him.
“I have an assignment for you. It is priority number one. Put everything else on hold, as of right this minute. I need for you to find someone, and I don’t have a clue where to begin.”
Marta then went on to explain the who and why. It didn’t take long for Rik to catch on.
“I’m on it already.”
He grabbed his notes and was gone. Marta sat by herself and began to think. She knew she had to call Billy Jo, but for now, she needed some alone time.
Her first thoughts were of her old boss, really her only boss, Russ Baylor. Through cunning and skill and more than a spoonful of deception, he had remained district attorney of Essex County for more than twenty-eight years, practically a lifetime. The man traded favors like kids traded comic books thirty years ago. It was wrong—it was illegal—but it worked. That seemed to be the only criterion that counted. Forget the rule of law—forget the oath of office—if it works, it must be all right.
For Russell Baylor, it worked.
Marta may not have been a starry-eyed romantic when she graduated law school and accepted her first real job, but to her, DA Baylor could do no wrong. If he told her to do something, she did it—without question. Not only was he her boss, he was her idol and her mentor. She trusted her mentor. That was the reason why she had chosen him.
Or he had chosen her.
She was young, optimistic, and enthusiastic and could be molded into anything he wanted. And she was very bright. What more could he ask for?
Now stark reality set in. It was all one big rotten game. “One God damn big game.” She felt like screaming. It was not as if she had just received the news from the burning bush or there was a flash of lightning and rumble of thunder and he spoke to her. She had known it all along. It was only now that she was willing to admit it to herself.
The hell with the clients, the judges, the prosecutors, the naysayers. It is about time I admit it to myself. What I am doing is morally and ethically wrong. They never talked to us about that in law school. But does the end really justify the means?
That was the only question unanswered.
Marta sat there very quiet. She had no idea what the right answer was.
She could not get herself to pick up the phone and call Billy. She needed to think this through. This was her life she was trying to make sense out of. And she was not doing a very good job, she felt.
She thought she was going to be sick.
This was not what I signed up for. Not even close.
***
Billy Jo had a long conversation with Black Jack. He understood far more than he was letting on. They were already in too deep. Now was not the time to back out or have second thoughts. To him, there was no such thing as guilt by association. If Marta wanted out, and Billy could read the signs, then so be it. He and Black Jack and a couple of former assistant US attorneys could run the store. In truth, he would prefer Marta come around to his way of thinking, but this was too big an opportunity to pass up.
He wanted Marta to call him. He would not make the first call; he would not push. It had to be her call.
As for the elusive Mei Ling, there was nothing left to do but sit back and wait. There was no question to which the giant computers kept by the government would not spit out a match.
No one was invisible.
If you are here, we will find you.
***
The last time he met with his financial people, his net worth, including accounts in Belize, the Caymans, China, and Switz
erland, came to just over eight hundred and thirty-three million dollars, US. By adding the recent profits and expanded distribution, and what Sonny owed him, he was very close to being a billionaire.
The thought then came to him.
I do have a living relative. I have a sister, and she is probably nearby. Together, I can make all her dreams come true.
Xiang had no idea where she was, how she made a living, if she were married and had children, and what her dreams were. It also occurred to him he could have nephews and nieces. The thought that upon his demise, natural or otherwise, without a will—and he had resisted drawing one—everything would go to Mei Ling. She would then be a billionaire or close to it.
As soon as I find her, I’m going to retire. I don’t care what the business is worth. I’ll never have time to spend it all. I can’t wait to tell Mei Ling. She will be so proud of me. It is unfortunate our parents will never know what a wonderful future we will have together.
Xiang was feeling better. All he could do now was sit and wait. And pray. He ordered more tea and let everyone know he was not to be disturbed. The only exceptions were his lawyers, who were working on something big.
Very big.
It was still early afternoon, but Xiang felt very tired. He closed his eyes for just a minute. The next thing he knew, it was time for dinner. He was hungry, very hungry. His housekeeper filled his plate, twice. For a small man, he now had one hell of an appetite.
He just knew good things were about to happen.
Well, maybe not all good.
CHAPTER 19
Black Jack was the first to come through. His contacts with government computers ran deep into the bowels of a dozen complexes near Colorado Springs, Colorado. Favors requested, favors paid for. He was told there were now trillions of bits of information stored on iCloud or somewhere in cyberspace. He really didn’t know or care what the latest technology was, just as long as he got it.