Stealing the Dragon cwi-1

by Tim Maleeny

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I told you already,” replied Cape. “I’m going to shoot you. Given the litigation you’ll be up against, I’m practically doing you a favor.”

  Richard smiled tentatively, one last attempt at charm. The lower classes were like animals-you had to demonstrate command of the situation at all times. Smile at the lunatic behind the desk and maybe this nightmare would end.

  Cape picked up the gun. “You’re an arrogant asshole who thinks he’s smarter than everyone else, Richard,” he said evenly. “And you lied to me.” He pointed the gun squarely at Richard’s chest and thumbed back the hammer.

  Richard stopped smiling. He started to raise his hands in protest just as Cape pulled the trigger.

  Click.

  “Shit,” Cape muttered. “Forgot to load it-gimme just a second.”

  Setting the gun down, Cape started rummaging through the desk drawer. A moment later he produced a box of cartridges and set them next to the gun. “Be just a minute.” He didn’t look up as he cracked open the cylinder and started inserting one bullet at a time.

  The screech of wood against wood was followed by the crash of a chair as Richard bolted toward the door. He let out a yelp as he collided with Beauregard Jones, whose massive frame almost blocked the exit entirely. Richard bounced off Beau like a pinball and ran, his footsteps echoing down the hallway.

  Beau leaned into the office and smiled. “Another satisfied customer?”

  Cape shrugged. “Wait till I send him a bill.”

  “Got a minute?” asked Beau, taking a giant step into the office.

  Cape stood and shook hands, then gestured toward the toppled client chair.

  “As of that meeting you just witnessed, I’m currently unemployed.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  “Thanks,” replied Cape, trying to put some hurt into his voice. “And here I thought we were friends.”

  “That we are,” said Beau. “It’s why I’m here.”

  “What’s the subject?” asked Cape. “With you it’s usually women or murder.”

  Beau smiled briefly before answering.

  “How about both?”

  Chapter Seven

  “You happen to look out your window yesterday?”

  Beau’s size 14 shoes rested comfortably on Cape’s desk.

  The office faced the bay, but any view of Alcatraz was blocked by the looming edifice of Aquarium of the Bay, which sat directly across the street at the entrance to Pier 39. A long walk down that pier led to a daily congregation of sea lions that had made the area a major tourist attraction, a bit of natural history you couldn’t see back home. Unfortunately, every square inch of the pier itself was crowded with stores and booths designed to empty tourists’ wallets long before they ever made it to the sea lions. With the addition of the Gap, the Hard Rock Cafe, and the Disney Store, the pier looked more like a strip mall than anything remotely related to nature or history.

  But if you looked past the pier to the right, you could see the water and signs of mayhem from the day before. The police and federal agencies had cleared out, but the ship remained lodged at the base of Alcatraz. The tourist boat rammed by the ship was stuck bow-first in the sand on the far side of the island, the hull split open like an egg. All the crew and tourists had been topside, hurled into the water before the boat struck land.

  The bizarre wreck had attracted a small fleet of sailboats and dinghies overloaded with passengers, most without life preservers but all wearing cameras around their necks. The Coast Guard and Harbor Patrol had a long week ahead of them until the two ships could be towed to the docks in Oakland.

  “I was home yesterday,” said Cape. “But I saw it on the news. Channel 7 said there was ‘evidence of foul play’ and Channel 5 said it was ‘slaughter on the high seas.’ Channel 2 put the whole thing in perspective with a segment called ‘Ships of Death.’”

  Beau shook his head sadly. “I wish their choppers had crashed.”

  “I take it you’re involved.”

  Beau shook his head. “Not for long.”

  “You don’t sound too happy about it.”

  “It’s political,” replied Beau, “and it’s gonna get worse. You know District Supervisor Harold Yan?”

  “Heard of him,” replied Cape. “But never met him. He’s the one running for mayor?”

  “That’s the one,” said Beau. “Represented Chinatown for almost a decade, now wants to be the first Asian-American mayor of San Francisco.”

  “So?”

  “So the current mayor was kinda hoping to get re-elected.”

  “I get it,” said Cape. “And the mayor had a string of bad press lately. That accounting screw-up in the comptroller’s office last month, and-”

  Beau finished the thought. “And now allegations of police corruption. You see the story in Monday’s paper?”

  Cape nodded. “Any truth to the rumors?”

  Beau hesitated before answering. “It started with a report that a few beat cops in Chinatown were taking bribes to look the other way on gang activity. Basic extortion scam, protection rackets. Now, do I think there’s cops that would grease their palms to let something go?” Beau shrugged. “Maybe, especially in a tight-knit neighborhood like Chinatown. Same thing happened a couple years back with a few Latino cops in the Mission, but it blew over. A few bad apples.”

  Cape nodded but didn’t say anything. He wasn’t a cop and didn’t pretend to be one.

  Beau took his feet off the desk and leaned forward. “It’s never more than a few cops, and it usually straightens itself out-the other cops see that it does, you understand what I’m saying? But for some of these young guys, it’s not so black and white when they first hit the streets. All depends on where they grew up.”

  “So why all the press?”

  “’Cause this time the press brought enough heat to trigger an Internal Affairs investigation,” Beau replied. “And they’re taking a hard look up the ladder, all the way to the assistant chief of police.”

  Cape recalled the article he’d seen in the Examiner. “The assistant chief…isn’t he Chinese, too?”

  Beau nodded. “Matter of fact, he is.”

  “So like you said, it’s political.”

  “Very.” Beau blew out his cheeks and sighed. “I got a boatload of Chinese people smuggled into the country and a crew that’s mostly dead. I got District Supervisor Yan running for office, already putting heat on the mayor before any of this went down. Yan was on the morning news, calling this a ‘humanitarian crisis affecting Chinese everywhere.’ Asking what the mayor’s gonna do about it.”

  “Oh boy,” said Cape.

  “So the mayor calls the chief,” continued Beau, “who’s already on the mayor’s shit list because of the scandal in Chinatown. Chief calls the division commander, who calls me and Vinnie and says ‘Men, we need a win on this one.’”

  “A win?”

  “A win.” Beau rolled his eyes. “But then the feds call the chief and tell him to back off.”

  “You’ve dealt with the feds before.”

  “Not like this,” replied Beau. “This is really their turf. Murder took place on the boat, not in the city. I’m just a homicide cop….I walk the streets, and every now and then trip over a dead body.”

  “But the mayor wants to be the guy who solves this case, huh?”

  “Ain’t gonna happen, though he needs the press,” said Beau. “And he needs the votes. You know thirty percent of the voters in this city are Asian?”

  “No kidding.”

  “How about that,” said Beau. “But the mayor don’t give a rat’s ass about the case or the people on the boat.” Beau frowned. “I used to like that asshole mayor, too, him being a brother and all.”

  “See what you get for being racially biased in your voting?” asked Cape.

  “There is no justice for the black man,” muttered Beau. “Even from a black man.”

  “You want a hu
g?”

  “Fuck you.”

  Cape laughed. “What do you want from me?”

  Beau described the crime scene on the ship, including details that the newspapers didn’t have yet. He described the corpses in detail and the apparent causes of death, watching Cape’s expression carefully as he talked.

  When Beau had finished, Cape pushed back in his chair and whistled soundlessly.

  “So that’s why I’m here,” said Beau.

  Cape raised one eyebrow but didn’t say anything.

  Beau said, “I think you should talk to your partner.”

  “My partner?” Cape said, frowning. “You mean Sally?”

  Beau nodded. “Figured she might have ideas about this kind of thing.”

  “She’s not my partner, Beau,” said Cape. “She’s a martial arts instructor. You know that….she runs a school in Chinatown. We’re just…” Cape trailed off, realizing he didn’t know how to describe their relationship.

  “She helps you out on cases,” said Beau. A statement, not a question. He shifted into cop-speak as he laid out the facts.

  Cape shrugged. “Sometimes.”

  “She watches your back.”

  “Yeah,” Cape replied tentatively.

  “You trust her.”

  “Absolutely,” said Cape. No hesitation.

  “Then she’s your partner,” said Beau.

  “Fine,” said Cape, holding up his hands. “So why don’t you go see her yourself?”

  “I might,” said Beau. “But thought I should start with you, since we go back a ways. Besides, after six tonight, this ain’t my case.”

  “You sure you’re not looking for an excuse to see her?”

  Beau looked indignant. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You had a crush on her last year,” said Cape. “You even tried taking one of her classes, didn’t you?”

  Beau smiled. “I came to my senses. A woman that could hurt me like that…” He shook his head. “It’s bad enough I gotta worry about getting hurt when I’m on the job. The crush ended after that first class.”

  “The fact that she’s gay was never a deterrent?”

  “Considered it a challenge, you want to know the truth,” replied Beau. “Never dated a lesbian before.”

  “That’s because lesbians don’t date guys like you,” said Cape. “Or me….because they don’t date guys, period. That’s how it works.”

  “You learn that on Doctor Phil?”

  “You’re hopeless.”

  “Just messing with you.”

  “I know,” replied Cape, “but you’re still hopeless.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “How about you tell me what made you think of Sally.”

  Beau looked at the ceiling for a long moment before answering. “You didn’t see the ship…the bodies. That wasn’t the work of no refugees. What I saw…not a lot of people know how to do that.” He lowered his eyes and studied Cape.

  Cape met his friend’s gaze.

  “I bet Sally could do that,” added Beau, his tone matter-of-fact.

  Cape didn’t know what to say, but he didn’t like where this was going. He and Beau had been friends before he’d become an investigator, and Cape had never lied to him. He might have left things out from time to time, but he never lied. And though he’d known Sally just as long, there were things about her that Cape couldn’t explain, even to himself.

  “Last year, you were working on that case with the movie producer,” said Beau. “And that Russian guy tried to kill you.”

  Cape unconsciously raised his right hand to his neck. “So?”

  “So, he was shot through the neck with an arrow, as I recall.”

  “Did you search Sherwood Forest?”

  “No, smart-ass, but we checked sales records at the sporting goods stores and the gun shops, talked to anyone we knew that had a quiver in their garage.”

  “Including Sally.”

  “She had a solid alibi-she was teaching a class,” said Beau. “A couple of her students backed her up.”

  “And you didn’t press it.”

  “Forensics said to look for a crossbow or a compound bow, the kind with all the pulleys. Said the distance was too great, the shot too hard for anyone to make with a regular bow and arrow.”

  “I wasn’t the only one that guy tried to kill,” said Cape, realizing too late he was sounding defensive. He took a deep breath before continuing. “And he’d already killed someone right here in the city-your city.”

  Beau held up his hands, palms out. “I’m not saying he didn’t deserve it,” he said. “And I’m not saying me and Vinnie looked real hard for his killer. The fact of the matter is that once the Russian wound up dead, the case was closed as far as the city was concerned. All the bad guys accounted for.”

  “So what are you saying, Beau?”

  “You’ve taken on some heavy cases over the years and have managed to not get yourself killed.”

  “Thanks to Sally watching my back,” said Cape, finishing the thought. There was no denying it.

  “Yeah,” said Beau. “And as your friend, I’m grateful to her.”

  Cape nodded. “But as a cop…”

  “I’ve always wondered.”

  “But Sally’s never even had a ticket for jaywalking,” said Cape, knowing that wasn’t really the point but wanting to say it anyway.

  “Neither have you,” replied Beau. “Doesn’t mean you didn’t cross against the light when no one was looking.”

  “You think the ship’s a different story.”

  Beau nodded. “I don’t know jack shit about the crew, the refugees, or the dead Chinese. And I can’t move around Chinatown like an Asian cop could.”

  “And there’s a rumor of corruption among the Chinese cops on the force,” said Cape, understanding now where this was going. “So the feds are cut off from that angle.”

  “Right.”

  “And you think I should ask Sally to help?”

  “To start, I’d just ask her a few questions,” replied Beau, sounding like a cop again. “Sally grew up in Hong Kong? Moved here maybe ten years ago?”

  “Yeah, as far as I know.”

  “The ship came from Hong Kong.”

  Cape studied Beau carefully before responding.

  “Sally’s one of the good guys.”

  “Then I’m on her side,” said Beau. “But I think like a cop. Everybody’s a suspect till proven otherwise.”

  “I thought it was innocent until proven guilty.”

  Beau shook his head. “Nah, that’s the courts. You know the system. It’s like catch-and-release fishing-we catch them, and the courts let them go.”

  “There must be some leads,” Cape insisted.

  “After the feds and SFPD finish interviewing the crew, the refugees, the shipping company, and the port authority, they’ll have enough leads to keep this investigation going for the next ten years.”

  “So?”

  “This isn’t a lead,” said Beau. “It’s a hunch.”

  Cape nodded. “Thanks for coming to me first.”

  Beau looked at his watch. “Like I said, after six it’s not my problem. But if I go see Sally, then it’s official-gotta fill out paperwork, her name goes in a file. You know the drill.”

  “Thanks just the same.”

  Beau smiled. “Besides, paying a surprise visit to Sally didn’t seem like a big idea.”

  “For what it’s worth,” said Cape. “I trust her completely.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” replied Beau. “But how well do you know her?”

  Cape started to respond but caught himself, realizing he didn’t have an answer that would satisfy either one of them.

  Chapter Eight

  Tokyo, 21 years ago

  “Sally, your parents are dead.”

  Just like that. No preamble. Nothing to soften the delivery. Li Mei’s face was a mass of wrinkles that seemed to crack open as she delivered the
news. The old woman looked at the five year old with an expression that begged no questions.

  When Sally just stood there, Li Mei spoke again, this time in Cantonese.

  “They’ve gone from this place, Sally.” Li Mei’s dark brown eyes were kind but unblinking. “And now we must leave.” She turned the small girl around with a gentle shove. “Go and pack your things.”

  Your parents are dead.

  Go and pack your things.

  Everything happening at once. Even at five, Sally sensed her nanny was trying to distract her, keep her off balance before shock could set in. Push her away before reality could touch her.

  It was an old trick. Don’t look at the cut on your knee, look at me.

  Sally dug her heel into the carpet and stared at Li Mei as if she didn’t recognize her, the five year old looking in that instant as old and jaded as her ancient Chinese caretaker. Sally had her Japanese mother’s jade green eyes and lustrous black hair, but her cheeks were painted with freckles, a genetic gift from her Irish-American father. These and other telltale traits she got from her parents, but her will was all her own.

  “Tell me,” she demanded, looking as if she would know if any details were omitted.

  So the old woman sat down on the floor and took the little girl in her arms. Sally’s father had left the Army base around four and drove to Shinjuku station in downtown Tokyo, where he picked up her mother every day after she finished work. Most Japanese did not drive if they could avoid it, preferring to take the trains and skip the traffic, but her father was so very American. He said he preferred doing things himself; he liked being in control. Likewise, many Japanese women didn’t work, but the family’s rent was expensive since they moved off the Army base. And like Sally’s father, her mother was independent in spirit.

  Traffic was heavy that time of day, and it was dark by the time they headed home. That meant they probably never saw the truck that killed them. The driver was drunk and had neglected to turn on his headlights. The police said the only warning might have been a brief flash of sparks from the undercarriage as the truck jumped the median and struck their car in a head-on collision. They were both killed instantly.

  “They did not suffer,” added Li Mei, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. She said something else but Sally couldn’t hear it over the roar of blood rushing in her ears. She searched Li Mei’s face for something else, a happy ending the old woman had forgotten, a story within the story that only Sally could hear. But now there were spots before her eyes, and her heart convulsed as if it had stopped. As she gasped for breath, she saw Li Mei’s face dissolve in a waterfall of tears, replaced by the smiling faces of her mother and father.