Darby Stansfield Thriller Series (Books 1-3 & Bonus Novella)

by Ty Hutchinson

  Lately, our conversations revolved around his cousin Wi. They were very close, like Siamese twins. Shortly after getting involved with the gang, Mr. Fu said he convinced Wi to join the Triads. Together they made a pact to look out for one another. The gang was dangerous even within its members. The two cousins knew they could trust each other, if that. The goal was to make life financially better for themselves and their families. He said they were in it together, united as one.

  “Wi was ambitious, quick to move up the ranks. We both were. We were good team.” Mr. Fu said.

  “How so? I mean, what did you guys do together?”

  “I had the brains; Wi was the muscle. Eventually he became Enforcer for Wo Shing Wo. Very important position.”

  “Is that like a boss who keeps people in line?”

  “Yes. Wi had powerful reputation on the streets. People feared him. He liked that.”

  “What? Terrorizing people?”

  “Yes, all of it. He fed off of it. The beatings, the stabbings, the torture.”

  “Didn’t this worry you?”

  “A little but we made so much money, had so much power. Easy to overlook.”

  “So what happened?”

  “From beginning, it was always temporary solution. Never for life. This is the deal Wi and I make together. But Wi got drunk with power. He didn’t want to stop. I did.”

  “So you left?”

  “Yes. Very hard decision to leave but Wi was out of control. I fear getting caught and locked up.”

  “So you left Hong Kong and came to America.”

  Mr. Fu nodded without saying anything. He didn’t need too. The guilt was doing a fine job of speaking for him.

  “What happened to Wi?”

  “Not sure. I never hear from him again.”

  “Did you kill anyone?”

  Mr. Fu jerked back at the blatant question.

  “I never killed anyone. I punched, I kicked, I break bones…but I never kill. You kill someone, you have body to deal with,” Mr. Fu went on, “It brings unwanted attention. That was Wi’s area anyway.”

  He turned to the door and expertly flicked his cigarette butt across the kitchen. It landed on the sidewalk outside, still burning.

  “Enough talk. Must close up.”

  Chapter 25

  The next day at work, I spent the better half of my day detailing project “Get Organized” on a legal pad of paper. I left no ammunition for Harold. He already had enough. Plus I hadn’t chased after any new business in the last month and well… I’m sure my numbers weren’t looking so hot right now. So long as the whole Fat Sal debacle stayed under his radar, I was probably safe for a bit longer.

  Suddenly, Lois Burkhardt peered over the top of my cubicle.

  “I heard you lost Fat Sal,” she whispered.

  “What? How did you know? Wait…come around.”

  A few seconds later Lois scooted right up against me in Tav’s chair. She always did that––such a smotherer.

  “No need to worry, Darby, everybody knows… I’m sorry.”

  Flabbergasted was the word of the day. How did people find out? I told no one. Not even Tav.

  “How did word spread?”

  “Fat Sal. He called in and complained. Said you tried to force him to buy wireless routers. Which isn’t the bad part. Gerald appreciated your aggressiveness––”

  “Wait, he called Gerald?” I blurted.

  “Oh yes, straight to the top.”

  “That sonofabitch! What a crybaby.” I didn’t think Fat Sal had the guts to report this. I still had the evidence and could easily disperse it around town.

  “Well the crybaby must have cried his tush off because I heard Gerald visited him yesterday to give him some face time, made him feel special. The funny thing is, and you’ll get a kick out of this, Gerald sold him an entire wireless set-up while he was out there.”

  “Are you shitting me?”

  “I shit you not. And to top it off, Kurt Kawasaki is now managing the account and he got credit for the sell.”

  My blood boiled over. I was so pissed. Not so much about Fat Sal crying to Gerald but that he sold Fat Sal a set-up. I had meticulously worked that slob for close to three months and now Kawasaki got the sale?

  Doesn’t matter, Fat Sal was dead weight. He’d never buy anything again. I thanked Lois for the heads up.

  Chapter 26

  The silver lining in today’s shit sandwich was all too familiar. Save my job. The robust fire under my butt was now a five-alarm rager. I could only imagine how giddy Harold would be when he found out. Threatening a client with blackmail isn’t the sort of water-cooler talk you want floating around the office.

  Time was a’wasting. I could sit there and keep putting nails in my own coffin or I could get of my butt and get busy. What I needed desperately was to put Get Organized into action, pronto. It would be damn near impossible to pull it off if I got fired. Useless actually.

  Looking at my notes on the yellow legal pad, I could see that the hardest part of the plan was convincing a bunch of thugs to let me document the whole thing. I would have to write the case study in a way that didn’t incriminate them. Words would have double meanings. Assets = prostitutes. Packages = bodies. Account receivables = collections.

  Minor hurdles, I thought. Suddenly I heard breathing behind me. I quickly covered my work and looked over my shoulder. It was Tav.

  “Man, you nearly gave me a heart attack. For a split second, I thought it was Harold creeping up on me again.”

  “Why aren’t you using your computer?” Tav asked as he slumped back into his chair.

  “I’m working on the plan. Better to not have any trace of it on the computer.”

  Tav looked at me for a second and then started to laugh. “So something the Tavmiester said made sense, huh? Oh, no, please, don’t thank me.”

  “All right, all right, thanks. It was a good idea, considering Harold ain’t kidding around about getting rid of my ass.”

  “So you make any progress?”

  “Yeah, I’ve been getting a lot of info from Mr. Fu on Triads. It’s a no-brainer to target them.”

  “Just like that, huh?”

  “Yeah, but I can’t do it here. I got a better shot in Hong Kong.”

  “Hong Kong? You mean way across the Pacific Ocean Hong Kong?”

  “I need a gang that meets certain criteria. I don’t think I’ll find that gang here.” It was the truth. According to Mr. Fu, there were only two factions operating in the Chinatown and both of them were well established. I needed a desperate gang. Plus Mr. Fu was providing an insight into the Triads so it made sense to target one of their kind.

  “But it’s so far away. What do you know about doing business there?”

  “Whether it’s here or there, the process is the same. They get an online account with Teleco, place orders for product and I take the commissions. I hold their hands for a month or so to get them up to speed on the products and how the system works. There’s only one difference…I need to create a fake business to represent my new client.”

  “That should be easy,” Tav said. “I read recently that the Hong Kong government set up a program that allows foreign investment to easily establish any sort of business they wanted.”

  “Really?”

  “No, not really. There’s no program. This is illegal.”

  “Is it illegal for a fast food restaurant to sell a cheeseburger to a serial killer?”

  “No, but it’s not like they got commercials that say, ‘Kill someone lately? Well then how about a break today?’”

  “This is the same thing, except I’m selling wireless business solutions. Plus, I’m sure the gang can help with stuff on their end.”

  “And why would they do that?”

  “Because all the product they need to get up and running will be free. That’s the carrot. I’ll front everything and in return I’ll take a small percentage of their weekly income. They don’t make money, I don’t
make money.”

  “So you’ll make money on the Teleco end and on the gang end. Is that it?”

  “Precisely.”

  Tav sat back, “Uh-huh, I see. I guess it’s a plan. Can’t see why an organized crime outfit wouldn’t want to part with profits.”

  It was obvious Tavish wasn’t buying my plan. But I was. That’s all that mattered at this point. I’m sure once he sees it working, he’ll come on board and help. That was also part of my plan: to eventually have Tav do the books for my new venture.

  Neither one of us knew what to say next and the silence was quickly becoming awkward, until I remembered something.

  “By the way, how did your book club meeting go?”

  “It was cool. I’m not really there for the whole book-analyzing thing. The girl who runs the group is smoking hot.”

  “Wait, let me see if I’m clear on this. You’re feigning interest in the book club…”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “…in a shallow attempt to get closer to this girl, in hopes she will eventually see how you’re an awesome guy and totally want to have sex with you?”

  Taking a moment to think about what I said, Tav slowly started to nod. “Yeah. Awesome huh?”

  “I have but one question, Slick. Don’t you have to discuss the books?”

  “That’s the brilliant part of my plan,” he said smugly. “I get there early and I kick it in the kids section, no one from the group ever goes there. Then when they get going, I make my way over to the aisle where the group meets and I listen in on the conversation. When I kind of got an idea of what the book is about, I make like I got there late and wing it. Classic Tav maneuver.”

  It was classic. I give him that. But as much as I loved hearing about Tav’s sneaky ways, I couldn’t shake Hong Kong out of my head. I had a deadline and my job was on the line.

  Chapter 27

  Kowloon Peninsula, Hong Kong

  Chan Liu was muscular and stood at six-foot-one, unusual for an Asian man. But Chan was not your usual Chinaman.

  Always dressed in a tight, black t-shirt and loose fitting cotton pants, the bald-headed Chan fit the role of Enforcer for the Wo Shing Wo faction perfectly. The Wo Shing Wo, or simply Wo Shing, is the largest Triad faction in Hong Kong. The gang had their hooks in every racket to come out of the Kowloon area.

  Chan’s primary responsibility was enforcing the mini-bus racket with the drivers. In exchange for a monopoly on the route, he was able to extort upwards of HK$14 million a year from the drivers. A lot of the gang’s success could be directly attributed to Chan.

  Outsiders rarely frequented the watering hole where Chan Liu held court. To be frank, outsiders were not allowed into The Bullet.

  The bar was dimly lit, with eighties Euro trash drifting out of a pair of hanging speakers. The mood inside was surprisingly subdued as various brothers huddled around tables conversing or planning their next job. The entire bar, of course, reeked of cigarette smoke, as if it had not been aired out for the last twenty years. It hadn’t.

  Chan always sat in a round corner booth in the back allowing him a full view of the bar and most importantly, the front door. There were always three to four svelte women sitting by his side, cooing and laughing. The familiar green bottle of J&B scotch was as much of a fixture on Chan’s table as three to four packs of Marlboros.

  Chan had spent the last hour or so recounting his latest tale of battle to the sexy wontons. It’s what he loved to do. It was also his weakness. He loved to brag about his operations. These one-sided conversations would drag on for hours, interrupted only by the opening of the front door.

  And then the front door opened.

  The afternoon sun poured in bringing to life thick plumes of cigarette smoke that kept the visitor, if only for a brief second, a mystery. It was enough to catch Chan’s attention. He focused on the door, waiting for the disturbance to show itself.

  The door’s swinging shut revealed a short, boyish-looking gentleman entering the den of thieves. Dressed in knockoff Diesel jeans and a black buttondown with an intricate graphic design running up the sleeves, Jo Woo was a lower-level brother who had earned Chan’s trust and often handled business for him.

  As Jo passed the occupied tables, he acknowledged his fellow brothers with a raise of his eyebrows. This wasn’t the Italian mafia. There were no handshakes, hugs or kisses––just hard staring.

  “Jo, come sit. So good of you to visit,” Chan said. He poured a drink for each of them as he motioned for the women to leave.

  Jo slid into the booth and downed the Scotch in one swoop. “There will be another transaction taking place soon.”

  Chan said nothing and poured Jo another drink. He took a long drag of his cigarette.

  Jo continued, “The Fan Gang will be receiving a shipment of bootlegged DVDs. Not much, two thousand max. Such a pathetic amount, street value is only HK$10,000.”

  “For us it’s nothing but for them, it’s everything. A boost,” Chan said. “This job cannot happen. We must continue to break their spirits. Take care of it like we did the others.”

  “I don’t understand. Why bother with them? They are nothing, not even a recognized faction.”

  Chan let out a chuckle and placed his hand over Jo’s and patted it. Jo let out a nervous laugh as he gently tried to move his hand away. Too late. Chan had pinned Jo’s hand to the table by his wrist. Jo played it off and laughed. He picked up the shot glass and downed another scotch.

  “It is not for you to understand the nature of your orders, but only to carry them out diligently,” Chan said dryly.

  “Yes, yes of course. This is my only intention. Let’s forget this silly, inconsiderate questioning. I apologize.”

  The end of the cigarette burned brightly as Chan pulled another deep drag off of it. Jo tugged at his hand once again and felt Chan tighten his grip. The end of the cigarette crackled like lava.

  Chan lowered the cigarette and Jo’s eyes followed the mini-torch knowing full well where it was heading. His hand flattened against the table, Jo looked away and waited for contact. He could feel the warmth and then the heat and the burn.

  The smell of burnt hair immediately filled the air around them. Blisters began to form. A few more deep pulls were needed to keep the makeshift branding iron operating.

  Jo did nothing. He knew movement on his part could signal weakness or worse, protest. He sat still and stared ahead trying to ignore what was happening. His teeth clamped together like a vise grip. Not from the pain, but the embarrassment. That was the goal of this visual punishment, to demonstrate dominance. The other brothers watched in silence and learned from example.

  When Chan finished, Jo calmly removed his hand and placed it on his lap beneath the table but not before taking a quick peek. The raw outlines of two Chinese characters were hard to miss. Jo was sure the blistering from the burn would scar over and serve as a reminder.

  服从. Obey.

  Chapter 28

  Three weeks later, my cast was off and I was on United Airlines flight No. 239 heading to Hong Kong. Darby Stansfield, telecommunications consultant to the underworld, was open for business.

  As far as Harold and the rest of the Teleco family were concerned, I had a death in the family and I needed a week to take care of the arrangements. I knew Harold thought I was lying but I didn’t care. I liked keeping the weasel up at night. I had all the information I was going to get out of Mr. Fu and it was time to put my plan into action. Plus Tav’s constant reminders of the legality––or lack thereof––of what I was doing irritated me.

  How could I get it through his thick skull that this was not illegal? Do we hold an electrician responsible for what a building is used for after he is hired to wire it? No, of course not.

  I banished the thought from my head. Positive affirmations were needed. United Airlines offered up an attractive hostess.

  “This evening we have roasted chicken with potato or baked halibut and asparagus for our entrees,” the pr
etty flight attendant said as she rolled to a stop with her cart.

  “I’ll have the chicken please.”

  She placed the preheated meal on my tray and moved on to the row behind me as another, almost identical, flight attendant moved in with her beverage cart.

  “Can I offer you a drink with your meal?”

  I asked for a Tsingtao, no glass.

  Shrek 3 was one of the movie selections on my personal entertainment system. I made myself comfortable and hit play. I wasn’t going to obsess over my plan during the flight. If I did discover any holes, there would be nothing I could do about it now, so why worry?

  Chapter 29

  San Francisco, California

  It was nearly midnight when Mr. Fu flipped the sign on his door to read “Closed.” Business was brisk recently from the many nighttime festivals surrounding the Chinese New Year. His feet had had all they could take for the day. Mr. Fu took a seat at the back of the kitchen, closed his eyes, and listened to the silence. He took a long draw on his cigarette and slowly exhaled.

  Suddenly The Voice spoke up, “Where is your friend?”

  Mr. Fu opened his eyes.

  “So many questions he asks every night. Why not tonight?” The Voice continued.

  “I don’t know,” Mr. Fu said quietly.

  “I like him.”

  Mr. Fu said nothing, content to stare ahead.

  “You’ve told him everything, haven’t you?”

  Mr. Fu knew the voice spoke the truth. He’d told Darby about his past, a past he had not spoken of since fleeing Hong Kong.

  “Not everything.”

  “But you will. I want you to.”

  “No more. Too much is said already.”

  “Too late,” The Voice said as he left.

  The night air in Chinatown was extra fluffy with fog. Perfect for hunting, The Voice thought. People moved slowly through the mist.

  Keeping to the alleyways, The Voice was able to cover all of Chinatown while staying completely out of sight.