The Snakeheads

by Mary Moylum

  “You don’t think we went too far?” muttered Cadeux, not looking at him.

  Sun said, “The old man was my business partner, but in the end he started to behave like a foolish old woman. Trying to balance profit statements with moral good and philanthropy. An amateur, really. Not like you and me, my friend. Besides, I couldn’t trust him once he was apprehended by the police.”

  A line of sweat formed on Cadeux’s brow and upper lip. He looked uncertainly at his companion. “Yes, I — I think you did the right thing.”

  “Thank you. The only smart one in all this is the woman. You should’ve heard her in the hearing room. She’s the only one who understood the connections between the Communists and the triads. You know, the Flying Dragons and the Young Yon both competed for me to join their organizations. At first I was flattered, but then I realized it was my military connections. My in-laws are high up in the PLA, and the triads wanted to use army trucks to move heroin and drugs across China. One phone call to my brother-in-law was all it took.” Sun snapped his fingers.

  Cadeux stared at him. Sunlight slanted through the tall trees in the distance. Clearing his throat unhappily, he said, “And now you’re the Don.”

  “Of course, I’m the Don! I played my cards right when I found out the old Don had stomach cancer. And now my in-laws put up with me. Particularly my brother-in-law in Fujian, who’s not pleased that I’ve reduced his percentage in the smuggling operations,” Sun concluded, laughing.

  Cadeux said nothing as he gazed up at the sky for a moment.

  Sun got straight to the point. “I need asylum in North America. After I screwed my wife’s family and my friends, no way I can return home. Besides, I want to transfer my base of operations here. What did you get for me?”

  “Well, the State Department wants to meet with you and listen to what you have to say. I told them that you had a list of American companies that were controlled or affiliated with Asian gangs and the Chinese intelligence service.”

  The Red Prince rubbed his hands together. “Aren’t I clever? Have the law enforcement agencies take out the competition for me. That’ll give the Flying Dragons a monopoly on human smuggling. Good, good.”

  “I also mentioned that you had information about the sale of Chinese missiles.”

  “Unfortunately, I’ve to fuck over my brother-in-law for this information. It’s his own fault. For a high ranking military man, he has loose lips. But for me, it’s good, because the Americans are worried that China will go to war over Taiwan. The most powerful country in the world will need an insider’s perspective on this. Colin Powell, here I come.”

  “I’ve rented a car for you. It’s waiting at the duty free shop just before the border.” Cadeux handed him a set of keys.

  “What else?” demanded Sun, holding out his right hand.

  “Oh, yes. Your Panamanian passport came last week to my house.”

  Sun examined his passport mugshot. “Thank you.”

  “How did you get it, you mind my asking?”

  “How else? By investing in the banana republic.” Sun shrugged his shoulders.

  “Why?”

  “I never put all my eggs in one basket.” Sun slipped the passport into the jacket pocket.

  Cadeux extended his hand. “Let’s keep in touch.”

  After they parted, Cadeux vowed to himself that he would do whatever it took not to outlive his usefulness to this crime boss. He drove to the office to perform one more task. He didn’t bother signing into the security log. In his darkened office, he flicked on his computer.

  He had to find a way to squash her subpoena because Sun’s phone records would reveal the extent and length of their communication. That was the last thing Cadeux wanted.

  Li Mann Vu stumbled out of the karaoke diner. He had drank too much and smoked too much opium. He could barely stand as he tried to insert the key into the car door. The minute he climbed into the driver’s seat, he knew something was wrong. He felt the cold metal pressed against the back of his neck.

  “How’s it feel now, asshole?”

  Li Mann didn’t reply.

  “Let’s take a drive out of town. Turn west on this street and keep going until I tell ya.”

  There was too much drink and drugs in Li Mann’s body. He could not clear his mind to think. Like an automaton he drove into the night, following orders from the killer sitting behind him. He knew in his gut that time was meaningless to him now. He would not be flying home on his one way ticket. He would no longer be a part of the Flying Dragons. In time, Sun Sui would find someone to replace him.

  “At the end of this road, take the dirt road on the left of ya.”

  Beyond the wildflowers and the weeds was the woodlands, a thicket of trees and shrubs inhabited by deer, rabbits, and other wildlife.

  Li Mann cut the engine. “What’re you going to do to me?” he asked, staring in the rear view mirror. He could see the eyes that blinked back at him. Li Mann realized that the man who held him captive was mad.

  “Get out!”

  Li Mann climbed out of the car. Emotions welled up inside of him as he climbed out of the car. He looked up at the night sky, it was dark enough to see the stars. That meant he was no longer in the city. That meant there was no one to see or help him. For the first time in a long time, he felt a shudder of fear move through him.

  “You killed my best friend, you dumb fuck! Now I’m gonna take your life. An eye for an eye.”

  “I can explain,” said Li Mann. He could still feel the effects of all that booze and smoke in his body. He forced his mind to think. He had to find a way to reach the knife that was strapped to his right calf.

  His opponent was crazy, shouting obscenities at him. Li Mann racked his brain as he was marched a hundred yards into the woods, gun pressed into his back. Then about eighty yards further into the dense forest, the path disappeared. The trees became thick around him. The terrain became surprisingly familiar and he had a flash of clarity about what he needed to do. After all, he could have written the book on jungle warfare.

  Like a good soldier, he would refuse to stand still for the bullet. The important thing was to keep moving, to look for the chance to make a run for it into the woods and darkness. Eyes alert, he saw his opportunity to the right of him. He parted a strong branch as he moved forward, and waited for it to snap in the face of his opponent.

  He ran, breathing fast and shallow. He heard the stream of curses behind him. He knew his opponent was gaining. He heard the sound of bullets as he scampered over rocks and fallen tree trunks. Then his legs faltered. He held out his arms to brace his balance. Too late, he stumbled, felt the trunk of his body swaying for balance, and then a long fall. As he turned his head to protect his face, he thought about his wife and his parents. He saw the ground rushing up at him and sensed himself slipping into the soft earth, into a void of darkness. Huddled in the dark underbrush, he concentrated his mind on mastering the pain. One ear pressed into the earth, he could hear the nasal croak of the bullfrogs and the sweet music of the crickets. He was breathing frantically as his mind went back in time to his comrades buried deep in the forests, and those in the Da Nang cemetery.

  He closed his eyes. Despite the pain, he felt relief. There was no more separation. He was going home. He felt himself being pulled down a long dark tunnel.

  chapter twenty-nine

  Nick was roused from his sleep by the ringing on the bedside phone in Grace’s bedroom. Without thinking, he reached for it. Dubois was on the line, yelling.

  “Nick, Sun Sui has escaped.”

  “When? How? He was under surveillance!”

  “Seems he switched places with his chauffeur. Got dressed in his uniform and cap. That’s how he got past the guards posted outside his hotel room and in front of his hotel.”

  “Shit! Shit!”

  “Nick, we’re looking for him as we speak. Got a countrywide and international warrant out already. Photos of him plastered from coast to coast. Somethi
ng should turn up.”

  Grace stirred, lying next to him. She turned to give him a sleepy, concerned look.

  “What about the chauffeur? Does he know anything?”

  “We interrogated him till we were all blue in the face from bullying and badgering. I don’t think he knows anything. He was just following orders when he was asked to strip out of his uniform. That was about three hours ago. That’s a good lead. Sun could be anywhere.”

  “I’d better call Rocco.” Nick watched Grace roll out of bed and pad into the bathroom. “Do me a favour. Keep it out of the press for twenty-four hours. No news could have the effect of lowering his guard. He might be less careful. Less watchful.”

  He wasn’t hopeful of catching Sun. He knew he had all the stolen authentic documents he wanted. Failing that, near-perfect forgeries.

  Wrapped in a bathrobe, Grace asked. “What happened?”

  He downplayed Sun’s escape. “I wouldn’t be overly concerned. Sun can’t go far. It’s just a matter of time before he’s caught.”

  “Don’t bullshit me, Nick.”

  “Babe …” He threw up his hands. “It never ends. It just comes at you from all sides.” He had just woken up, but God, he was so tired. His career seemed like a never-ending landscape of chess moves with an invisible opponent.

  She ran her fingers through his hair. “We need a holiday together. When it’s all over. Let’s go back to Malta. Or rough it in Patagonia.”

  “I’m too old to rough it, Grace.” He fell back onto the bed, pulling her down on top of him. He needed solace. He needed her one more time.

  “You go where you need to go,” Grace insisted. “Do what you need to do. And don’t worry about me, I’m a big girl. I can look after myself.” She was pushing the speed limit, weaving in and out of lanes trying to get him to the airport to catch his 10:40 a.m. flight to Toronto. He had to agree that she was a woman of impressive confidence.

  Little conversation passed between them on the way. He sat with a cellphone pressed to his ear, giving instructions to his staff to check all domestic and international flights, and to issue an immigration warrant for Sun Sui’s arrest on both sides of the border. When they parted at the airport, he made her promise to keep him in the loop while he was gone.

  “This is Dubois’ personal number. Don’t hesitate to call him.” He pressed it into her hand.

  “I’ll be fine, Nick.”

  “No, Grace. Promise me you’ll call him if anything goes wrong.”

  “Okay, okay. Promise.”

  The commuter flight to Toronto was jam-packed with business travellers. Wa Sing’s words stayed with him throughout the flight. Running for office was a risky venture, but besides that it was enormously expensive. For those who failed to win an election, the cost was huge, sometimes measured in the years it took to overcome a mountain of debt. But if you had the backing, and you won, you were laughing all the way up to the Hill. And that was the trouble with this case — it wasn’t a simple case of illegal alien smuggling any more. No, it was rotten to the core. Even if the asylum hearing had been completed and Grace had turned down Sun’s refugee claim, the minister would have overruled her.

  He got no respite when the flight attendant offered him a newspaper. The lead story was the government quashing their own inquiry into the campaign contribution fiasco. The words swam in front of him as his mind kept coming back to one question. Exactly how much and what kind of influence had a million dollars in campaign contributions bought the old man and Sun?

  The flight attendant offered him a choice of beverage. It was too early to be drinking, but what the hell. He had a Sleeman’s.

  Where did all this leave him and his office? He had given up on Keiler being cooperative in sending anything to him through the diplomatic pouch or regular mail. Keiler was stalling, covering up his stupid decisions to grant visas and approvals to those he shouldn’t have. He had taken short cuts by not running extensive security checks. At the same time, Nick knew he would have the damnedest time firing his employee. Simply put, the government did not want their stupidity aired for public consumption. Particularly this present government, which had done much to foster an even deeper culture of secrecy.

  Still, as Keiler’s boss, Nick needed to know exactly how Jon Keiler could have approved Sun’s application and God knows how many more applications from triad members. Criminal underworld figures were incredibly wealthy. Their net worth sometimes reached the billions, and political payoffs were as easy as buying groceries. Was this a case worth fighting for? Yes, he decided, it was. His goal since the beginning had been justice for Walter Martin, and that still mattered. They had had good times together, until a bullet had made Walter’s wife a widow and rendered his children fatherless.

  He took another sip of beer. He knew what he had to do next. But at the same time, he had the feeling that something ominous was gaining on him.

  After dropping Nick off at the airport, Grace headed to the office. From Nick’s conversation with Dubois, she already knew what awaited her. Still, the microphones and cameras jammed in her face were hard to take. Reporters assaulted her with questions about Sun Sui.

  “No comment. No comment,” she said, all the way up into the elevator and along the corridor to the security coded doors that led into her office.

  Just as she took off her raincoat, the phone rang. It was Verster. “Ms. Wang-Weinstein, this is a courtesy call to tell you personally that my client, Mr. Sui, is abandoning his asylum claim.”

  “Why, counsel?”

  “You know, I’m not exactly sure why. He communicated that to me early this morning, and I’m merely passing on the message.”

  “I see you’ve already informed the press before you called me.”

  “No, that’s not true. For the record, they called me first, wanting to know our strategy for the continuation of the hearing. Naturally, I had no choice but to tell them that there was no longer a hearing.”

  “Well, for the record, counsel, if you appear before me in future cases, keep it firmly in mind that I’d like to know before the press.” To say anymore would be judicially inappropriate, Grace dropped the receiver back into the cradle.

  She sat at her desk. Then got up and wandered to the window. She looked down into the rain-drenched streets below. Sun would be on every network, on every local news, and newspaper. Why had he decided to walk away from his hearing? Why hadn’t he waited for the decision to come down and appeal the negative?

  Turning away from the window, she considered her next move. Last night, she had called Wa Sing’s daughters. Lorraine Lu, Wa Sing’s oldest daughter, answered the phone. She told Grace that neither she nor her sister was interested in keeping the house. They had already taken what keepsakes they wanted. The proceeds of the house and its contents were to go to cancer research. As a favour, Grace had agreed to handle the real estate transaction and the content disposal.

  “One more thing, Lorraine. Wa always told me that he wanted me to have the ’red dragon’. Do you know what he was referring to? I just thought I’d ask so I wouldn’t spend hours searching for something I can’t recall seeing.”

  “No, Grace. Nothing comes to mind. But if it does, I’ll call you back.”

  Now, with time on her hands and feeling at loose ends for the first time in months, she decided to head over to New Edinburgh, to Wa Sing’s house. Years ago, when Wa Sing had decided to live several months of the year in Ottawa, Grace had gone house-hunting with him. They had found the large bungalow set back majestically from the street. It was the most promising house they had seen after touring at least a dozen houses all over the city.

  In her jalopy Volvo, she drove down a leafy street, where the houses were set on large lots. An occasional FedEx truck passed, otherwise the street was empty. She knew the house well, and it was easy to find by the hedge of azalea bushes that flanked the driveway. She pulled into his driveway.

  For a while, she didn’t know how long, she sat in her ca
r calling up old memories. Then, fighting the wind and rain, she walked around to a side door and let herself in with the spare key hidden underneath the deck. The house had been closed up for only a week. Already it had the feel of a mausoleum. Removing her shoes, she walked through the house, flicking on lights, and opening a window for fresh air. She made a mental note to call the cleaning lady as she scooped up the heap of mail lying behind the front door. She went through it. Bills and junk. Still procrastinating, she made herself a cup of tea. As she waited for the water to boil, an idea came to her. Picking up the phone, she dialled the number Wa Sing had given her just before he was killed.

  Sure enough, someone picked up the receiver on the other end. “Yes?” said a man’s voice. A very familiar voice. The voice of a very famous, powerful person.

  Without identifying herself, Grace quickly hung up the phone. It was enough to know that the rot went all the way up to the top.

  Now she had to find the red dragon. Cup in hand, she marched up the stairs to his study.

  At the top of the stairs, Grace stopped. In front of her was an open window; underneath the white carpet was still damp, with traces of mud and dirt. As if the intruder had removed his shoes, to keep from tracking water and soil into the house.

  Dread. Was someone still in the house? Wa Sing’s murderer? Most likely.

  Grace stopped breathing and stood still to listen. Nothing. Not wanting to take chances with her life, she took the .38 out of her bag, and released the safety catch.

  She wondered what his killer had been looking for? A red dragon?

  To her left was a narrow hallway. There was a door at the far end. It was closed. Taking a deep breath, she put her hand on the knob and turned it. Her senses immediately told her something felt wrong. She could feel the sweat forming on her back and the dryness in her mouth. Stepping into the room, she saw papers scattered on the floor. Just a few sheets. As if someone had been in a hurry. Or her presence had alerted them. She kept the gun in her hand as her eyes swept the room looking for a red dragon. What was it anyway? A book? A picture? A statue?