Racing the Tide

by January Bain

  “An alert. TETRAD’s sending us intel and photos of some of Chang’s crew to the monitor,” she said, bringing up the screen on the built-in video and listening device created and designed by Cole to aid in surveillance in the field. They carefully studied each face, forgetting everything else. They needed to be able to identify them. Time to go to work.

  Cole continued driving and a few minutes later was heading under the Millennium Gate, perched over Pender Street and welcoming everyone since 2002. The tightly packed shops and businesses that made up Chinatown created an odd sense of going backward in time, a historical and cultural oasis existing within metropolitan Vancouver that incomers from more modern cities found somewhat jarring, Gabby knew. She wondered if Cole might come to enjoy the district’s charm—at some point in the future. Not that she wanted him to stick around.

  Parking a few businesses down from Chang’s Café, he said, “I’m going inside and order something. Get a sense of the place. You wait here. You’ve already been seen once today. A second time might look suspicious. And, Gabby, please, keep an eye out—with this gang war about to heat up, things can take a nasty turn at any time. Triad and BTK are notorious enemies. Who knows what they might have in store?”

  She knew he was right. She had to monitor and keep a sharp watch. Nervous butterflies launched themselves in her queasy stomach. Just one more damn thing to worry about.

  “Fine. Bring me something to drink. Water or a diet drink.” She flashed him a confident look she didn’t entirely feel, tucking the earbuds into place, prepared to listen in. She had a job to do.

  An unexpected surge of heat energized her as she watched him walk down the street. She breathed in their tantalizing odor, still detectable in the closed confines of the truck’s cab, sensing something huge, something life-changing was a foot. Tonight. Tonight, she’d get him alone. See if she could get him to open up more, tell her what she already knew, because that would be the beginning. Recognizing past hurts. And choosing to share. A truth slipped past her defenses as the world stilled for a moment. It wasn’t only Cole that had been damaged by the past. She wasn’t exactly forthcoming with him, either.

  * * * *

  What the fuck was I thinking? I have to slam a lid on this thing. Now. Before she gets hurt. Women always said they could handle a one-night stand, but he knew it to be a lie most of the time. They were nurturing, caring creatures—at least Gabby was, whether she wanted to recognize it or not. He pushed the difficult thoughts aside, finding that far harder than pushing open the café door. But it had to be done. He had to focus on the here and now.

  A couple of patrons looked up as he entered, pretending indifference, as myriad cooking odors assailed his senses. The fragrance of Chinatown—rice, meat, oriental spices, soy and hot fat blended with sweet and sour, filling his nostrils with an explosion of anticipation. The customers sized him up silently, then looked away. It was a modest eatery, containing a few tables and a handful of black leatherette stools that had seen better days. He chose a stool from where he could see the rest of the room in the mirror behind the counter, spying Chang sitting with two men at a far table, his back protected by the wall behind him.

  Cole had no time to notice more as the pretty dark-haired waitress with a perky ponytail picked up the coffeepot, the question plain on her face as she glanced his way, filling his ceramic white cup to the brim at his nod.

  “Thanks,” he said, adding a smile to his greeting, sneaking his hand under the chair’s edge to plant one of the bugs at the same time he sat. Time to go to work. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing in a dive like this? With a face like yours, you should be auditioning for the movies. I think there’s enough production companies in Vancouver now you’d stand a great chance of getting a role.”

  “I don’t have time to go to the movies, let alone audition for one. Besides, many pretty girls in Chinatown.” She smiled, showing her pleasure, and handed him the laminated menu, plucking it out from between the sugar container and the paper napkin holder.

  “Special is won ton soup and grilled cheese. It’s homemade and very good,” she said, enunciating the second language carefully.

  “That eclectic pairing of Chinese and Canadian cuisine does sound good, but not nearly as good as you agreeing to go out on a date with me,” he replied, giving her a speculative glance and tucking the menu back in place. It had left a sticky residue on his fingers.

  “I’m not supposed to date customers,” she whispered, her glance toward Chang telling the story.

  “Sure you can’t make an exception? I know this probably sounds made up, but I swear it’s true—I have a good friend who’s part of a production team for a movie company based right here in Vancouver. Perhaps I can introduce you to him? He says they’re always looking for a fresh face. I’m certain once he sees you, he’ll be as impressed as I am.”

  Bingo. The waitress’s beautiful eyes lit up with speculation. “You do that for me, a stranger?”

  “Well, I really do hope we won’t remain strangers for too long, darlin’,” he said, smiling with a hint of suggestion, adding a pure Texan drawl to his voice.

  “I’m not sure.” A frown creased her forehead as she hesitated.

  “Could I have a glass of water while you think about how great it would be to go out to a fancy restaurant? You can get all dolled up, have a free dinner, maybe get a small part in a movie. What’s to think about? How about Sunday night? Surely, your boss gives you one day off a week?” he pressed.

  “Maybe. Bottled or tap?”

  “Bottled. Where’s your restroom?”

  She pointed to a narrow hallway that led into the back, right beside the kitchen. “First door.”

  “Thanks. See you soon, beautiful.”

  Cole pretended nonchalance as he got up. In the men’s, he washed his hands after planting a bug under the sink. They didn’t need video, just sound, as disgusting as even that was and he couldn’t be sure that important conversations wouldn’t happen in the men’s bathroom. God, she was listening in to him hitting on the waitress. Well, fuck, she was a professional. She’d understand.

  He exited the bathroom, careful not to touch anything and pick up another other kind of disgusting bug. The operation to plant the surveillance device went smoothly, no one taking notice of him as he slid back onto the stool. Chang was ignoring the clientele for the most part, busy writing with a mechanical pencil from time to time in a large black book that looked like an old-fashioned ledger with ruled lines, at a table as far from the entrance as he could manage in the small business. A pair of men sat across from him, their backs to Cole and the room. He would ask them something, they would answer quietly and Chang would jot something down. One of the young men had a distinctive bark of a laugh that grated on Cole’s nerves each time he heard it. God, but Cole itched to take a look at that book Chang seemed so obsessed with.

  Cole assessed the man while his waitress was busy. Middle-aged, slight with a small pot belly, a few streaks of gray marring the oiled hair combed back so smoothly to his skull that comb marks were apparent. It was clipped carefully over his ears. Graying whiskers covered his chin. His dark eyes flitted back and forth, from the what looked like Chinese businessmen he appeared to be giving the third-degree to and the book he wrote in, his expression cold and unyielding, not-so-subtle power obvious in every gesture he made.

  He looked up all of a sudden, locking dark obsidian eyes with Cole. The dead-snake look of a killer. Chang assessed him with straight forward focus as he stared for longer than necessary at Cole. The man was telling him plain and simple that he was the one on foreign territory, Chang territory. Cole gave him back the goods, his ire at the man’s exploits turning his expression cold and calculating. Oh, yeah, they had each other’s measure all right. Good old-fashioned Mexican stand-off right there in the center of Chinatown.

  “Food’s ready.” The waitress planted the soup with the sandwich nestled around it in front of Cole, giving him the perfe
ct excuse to look away from the grim reality of the café’s owner. She refilled his coffee cup, though he had only taken a couple of sips.

  “Thanks, beautiful.” He gave her another smile. “You gonna go out with me? Take a chance at a better life?” He hated himself at that moment for the false promise, knowing all too well the girl’s probable lot in life.

  “You are very welcome, sir. And yes, I think I would very much like to have dinner with you and your friend.” The waitress was all smiles now, though she kept her back toward Chang as she spoke, murmuring her responses. “You want anything else?”

  “No, this is fine.” He was hungry, the aroma drifting up from the soup and sandwich making his mouth water. He polished the food off in a matter of minutes and drained the cup of coffee.

  “We’ve got fresh blueberry pie, very good,” the waitress said as she poured him a third cup of coffee.

  “Sure, why not?” he answered, spying a couple of young gang members striding in the front door, easily recognizing them from the recent photos sent by Quinn. They joined Chang and the others, huddling around the table.

  The young girl scurried over to Chang’s table, bowing slightly and asking the two hoods what they wanted.

  One of them reached out and slid his hand under the edge of her uniform, making Cole wince though the young girl did not give away any emotion in her expression, remaining stoic. Oh, yeah, she had to be paying off her debt to Chang. What a price. Life was so unfair, so hard on the young. Especially the females. Was Pearl also doing the same? He shook his head. Fucking dog-eat-dog world.

  He sipped his coffee patiently, waiting for the waitress to bring him his pie. No rush. He wanted to drag this out. Chang did not intimidate him one iota.

  “Sorry,” she said as she opened the desert case on the counter and slid a piece of pie onto a plate with the help of a pie server. “You want ice cream?”

  “No worries. And yes, a scoop of vanilla would be great.”

  “No hurry to get back to work?” she asked, plunking the pie in front of him. She spoke louder now, as if she had been instructed to.

  “No, beautiful, not today. It’s my day off.”

  “Where do you work?” He caught Chang paying attention to his answer as well, just as Cole expected. He had his head cocked to the side, his cold eyes warning the other men at his table to shut up.

  “I work not far from here. Just started. You know Walmart? I work in their IT department.” It was always a good ploy. Every Canadian city had at least one of the ubiquitous retail stores. Plus, they were open twenty-four hours a day, employees coming and going all the time.

  “You have the accent,” she commented, busy placing the pie back in the case. Every action she made was economical.

  “Yeah, I know. I used to live in the United States.”

  “Why come here to Canada?” She seemed mystified.

  “A woman,” he said in a rueful tone. “But it’s over now. All on my own, though I hope it doesn’t stay that way for long.”

  She blushed a pretty shade of pink, looking at him with extra interest for just a split second before scurrying back to Chang’s table as the owner held up a commanding finger, beckoning her.

  He ate his pie slowly, savoring its deliciousness. It had just been baked.

  He kept his focus on his food, pretending indifference to the seething dragon’s activities in the back corner. When it looked like nothing else could be learned, he stood and asked for his check, handing over a fifty-dollar bill. More than enough to give the girl a generous tip.

  She passed him his change, her back to Chang. A folded piece of paper nestled beside the golden-colored coins, and he tucked it in his pocket, knowing it would be her phone number. What a shit-heel. When this was over, he was going to do something for her and Pearl. Give them a chance at their dreams, call in favors, whatever it took.

  He gave her a small salute of respect, touching his hand to his forehead, and exited the café.

  * * * *

  “Confucius say by three methods we learn wisdom. First, by refection, which is noblest. Second by imitation, which is easiest. And third, by experience, which is bitterest,” Chang said, keeping his eye on the patrons as he repeated, with care, one of his favorite quotes from the master to the men watching him as if they had never heard it before. He didn’t like the man at the counter talking to his waitress. He was trouble. Every male customer over eighteen looked like trouble to him, but this guy, he rubbed him far harder than most, giving him such a look in his own place. Customers. Always wanting to fuck his waitresses and not pay for the privilege. You want fuckie-fuckie, go to Paradise and pay for it. Otherwise, leave women alone.

  The others waited for him to continue. Chang pulled at his chin whiskers, assessing. So much to consider, and as always, little time to prepare. He sighed, feeling the burden of decades of leadership, fighting for his clan and his people. The past twenty years business had been good, but like the I Ching, his bible for viewing the world, he had to consider the necessity of change. Was he falling out of touch? No, the old ways had always worked and would continue to work. Proof was in how well the Chang clan was doing, following the old path. Let the young make mistakes, not see and learn from history. He was smarter than that.

  “I will see you later.” He dismissed the two businessmen keeping him up to date on all things happening in Chinatown. They bowed slightly and shuffled out.

  Chang waited until they had cleared the doorway, glancing at his nephew.

  “Have you done what I have asked?”

  “Yes, Uncle. Supplies are out back, in my van. Ready to bring in.”

  “Good, good.” Chang nodded. “Bring them in later, after the lunch rush leaves.”

  Tommy gave him a questioning look, then a quick glance over at Lee. “We heard something, something about the goods at the docks.”

  Chang grunted, his gaze shifting back and forth from his black book to the asshole at the counter. Still chatting up May Lin.

  “Yeah, what about them?”

  “A new customs agent has been asking questions down at the docks about our business. All in our business, like he not aware of the deal.”

  “What kind of questions?”

  Tommy shrugged. “About what’s in the packages. Stuff like that.”

  “What? What guy? What he look like?”

  “I got a picture,” Tommy said, handing over his burner phone that Chang had supplied.

  Chang studied the photo, narrowing his eyes. “Hmm, don’t know him. Anybody talk?”

  “No—nothing,” Tommy assured him, his eyes suggesting shock at the mere suggestion of anyone saying anything to someone outside their community.

  “Good. Don’t matter. Deliveries about to leave soon anyway. That take care of the problem.” Chang cracked his face into what he thought of as a benevolent smile.

  Finally, the guy he was watching left the café. He let out a frustrated sigh. “Okay, hurry up and unload supplies. No time to waste. Go out the back way.”

  The pair jumped to do his bidding. He nodded for more coffee and when the waitress reached out to pour him a refill, he reached out and grasped her wrist.

  “What the guy want?”

  “Nothing, sir. Very polite,” May Lin said, managing to keep hold of the pot. She knew better than to drop it or even to ask who he meant.

  “Sure, sure. Just polite. You be careful around guys like him. Nothing but trouble. Only want one thing.”

  She nodded, and waited for him to let go of her wrist. He did, but not before adding, “Never forget who I am. Who you owe everything to. You don’t like this job, I can find you one at Paradise. Working with those girls.”

  She kept her eyes downcast as she poured his coffee. “I like it here. I never forget,” she said, her tone subdued and respectful, her hand shaking.

  He grunted. May Lin didn’t have to worry. He had no intention of sending her down the street to the massage parlor. But it never hurt to make sure
she knew the abyss she was stretched over. Time to pay Vu a visit. See if he knew the guy asking questions. He tucked Tommy’s phone with the photo of the guy in his pocket and got up to walk the short distance that separated their businesses. Vu would know who he was if anyone did.

  * * * *

  Cole opened the truck door, making Gabby start. She had been listening in, multi-tasking with video from Quinn, aware Cole was on his way and wanting to pretend nonchalance. She flashed him a steely glance from under her lashes.

  “All done?” she asked, patting herself on the back for her professionalism. He was just like all men, looking for a pretty woman to flirt with. Probably going to swear it was all business, too, yeah, right, and if that was believable, I have a bridge to sell.

  “Yeah, got it done.” He looked over at her, an old-soul smile coming over his face, lighting up his eyes. She watched it emerge, his entire face turning golden, making something quicken inside her. Goddamn it! Why? How could she sense so much about him just through eye contact alone? Well, that and some pretty fantastic sex. Were the legends true then? Or was it just heightened emotion due to the extreme circumstances they found themselves in? She realized belatedly she hadn’t reacted to his comment and he was waiting. He spoke again, adding a comment tinged with satisfaction. “And there’s no way they’re going to find those bugs.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Before coming to Vancouver, I had just finished inventing a new kind of prototype listening device that mimics the frequency of any known bug sweeper, so the gang won’t know they’re there. The bugs, in essence, become invisible to the wand. At least for now, anyway. Technology always keeps up after a short lull, but right now, we’ve got the edge.”

  “Really? That is impressive.” She noticed the blinking red light on the monitor. “Something’s up. Quinn just called for a video conference.”

  She pushed a button on the console, and Quinn’s face filled the screen. “Bad news, I’m afraid. The FBI and the RCMP are in the middle of running a sting operation. You know, like the takedown of the Hell’s Angel in Winnipeg and the Rock Machine in Quebec a few years back. We can’t expect any cooperation. In fact, they explicitly warned us to stay out of their way. That bigger things were at stake.”