Mekong Delta Blues

by Phil Swann

  “I don’t know, he just said he could help me do it, but he said Michelle would have to be dealt with first. So, I agreed to sneak into father’s office, get the account numbers, and then give them to Michelle.”

  “You hate her that much?”

  “Well, she did kill my father. But no, not like Johnny, he despises her.”

  The door opened, letting the outside light spill in, and it caught my attention. I saw Jack Kingston walk in. We locked eyes, and he headed my way.

  “Hi, Jack. How’s it going?” I said with a smile.

  When he saw the pained expression on James’s face, his eyes turned to fire, and his spine became as rigid as iron. He slammed his fists on the table and leered down at me.

  James spoke up just in time. “It’s okay, Jack. It’s okay.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked, not taking his eyes off me.

  “Yeah, I’m sure,” James answered.

  I said, “I bet I know how you got that scar over your eye, Jack.”

  “Really? How?”

  “The wrong part of town, the wrong people. It can be dangerous being you, can’t it? Even in New York City.”

  “I can handle myself.”

  “I’m sure you can. And, I’m truly sorry you have to.”

  He straightened up, and relaxed his posture.

  James said, “Give us a minute, will you, Jack?”

  Jack looked at James and nodded. “I’ll be at the bar if you need me.”

  James smiled as Jack walked away.

  “He looks out for you,” I said.

  “Yes,” James replied, watching Jack. “He has always looked out for me.”

  “Is he your…”

  “Yes, he is. We’re moving in together when I get to New York. Jack found us a nice place in Greenwich Village, just down the street from where he lives now. I’m going there just as soon as my father’s affairs are put in order.”

  “And joining the ranks of Ginsberg, Burroughs, and Kerouac. Good luck. I presume you gave Jack the money for the deposit on the apartment.”

  “How did you know that?”

  “I saw you hand him an envelope outside of Clyde’s the other night. Did Johnny give you the money?”

  “Yes.”

  I took a sip of my drink, and then reclined back in the booth. “Just so you know, James, Michelle didn’t kill your father.”

  He stared at me as if I were feeding him a line. “Then who did.”

  “I think it was Johnny.”

  “Johnny?” he half yelled. “Why would Johnny kill our father?”

  “I’m speculating here, but I think your father might have been taking the necessary steps to get the family out of the Triads. All those limos that were at the house yesterday, it was a meeting of all the Triad bosses, wasn’t it? All the other dragonheads?”

  “Yes,” James answered. “You think my father wanted out of the organization?”

  “I do. And I think you’re right. I think because of Michelle and Jean-Claude, your father had lost his passion for the family business. I also think he knew Johnny was up to something.”

  “What?”

  “I haven’t worked all that out yet, but I think whatever it was, your father was onto it, and Johnny couldn’t let that happen.”

  “Johnny killed Father?” he said, almost in a trance.

  I nodded. “Or somebody working for him. Have you ever heard of a man named Henry Wilson? Or Hank Wilson?”

  “No.”

  “How about someone named Cavendish?”

  “Sure. He was the man at the house a couple of days ago.”

  “And who is he?”

  “I don’t know. Mr. Callaway, my father and Johnny ran the business. I learned a long time ago to do what I was told, and not ask any questions. I don’t know who Cavendish is, or who Hank or Henry Wilson is, either.”

  I stared at him for a long moment. He wasn’t lying. “So, what are you going to do now that your father is gone?”

  “I’m free. He can’t stop me now.”

  “Didn’t you just say the organization would still come looking for you?”

  “Yes, but they’ll have to find me first.”

  “From what I hear, a person just doesn’t walk away from the Triads. Something about an oath of thirty-six promises, or some such thing. Are you okay living in hiding like that?”

  “I’ve been hiding my whole life, Mr. Callaway. I can handle it. We can handle it—me and Jack.”

  “What if I could make it so you wouldn’t have to hide?”

  “How?”

  “Help me send Johnny to jail. You do that, and then you’ll be truly free.”

  “They’ll just be others who’ll come looking for me.”

  “Not if they think you’re dead.”

  He did his best to keep a good poker face, but I could see he was more than intrigued by the idea. “You could do that?”

  “I think I can.”

  “Think you can?”

  “I can.”

  James sat back in the booth. I stayed quiet while he considered my offer. Finally, he leaned forward. “Jack,” he called out.

  Jack sprung up from the barstool and was at our table in half a second.

  “Have a seat. Trip has an offer for us.”

  Chapter 11

  Before leaving the C33 club, I asked Davey if I could use the phone. I made two calls. The first one was to Gene Armstrong, who was surprised to hear from me so soon. I told him I needed to talk to him again, and asked if I could drop by. He said it was late for him and asked if we could do it tomorrow. I told him it had to be now, and he gave me his address.

  My next call was to Luther. Before I was even able to ask the question, Luther said a man had indeed come by the club looking for me, but that he and Betsy had held firm to the company line and told him they hadn’t seen me. They said the man was polite, didn’t press the issue, and left without a fuss. Luther described him as being tall, white, and bald. I needed no more description than that to know who the man was. I also understood what that meant; Hunter Hank was on safari again, and this time, I was the prey.

  I drove to Gene’s with one eye on the road, the other looking in the rearview mirror. I was sure any vehicle that was following me for more than a block was Hank Wilson. By the time I got to Gene’s, I was a fit to be tied.

  Gene lived on Eastern Avenue in a rundown building above a laundromat. I had to scale a narrow and painfully steep staircase to get to his apartment. I’m a fairly fit specimen of a man, but steam from the business below made climbing the stairs like doing jumping jacks in the Congo. I had to take a moment before knocking on the door.

  “Gene, it’s me,” I panted, tapping on the door.

  The door opened, and Gene, donning a white, sleeveless T-shirt and his work trousers, greeted me with a smile. “Hey, man,” he said.

  “Thanks for seeing me, Gene. I won’t be long.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Come on in.”

  Gene’s apartment was a derelict sofa and coffee table sitting in front of an old television. The kitchen consisted of a hotplate crammed into the corner. Gene cleared off a chair and pulled it over in front of the couch. A fan was running full blast by the table. He leaned over and turned it down.

  “Have a seat,” he said, gesturing to the chair. “I’d have you sit here on the couch, but I’d be afraid you might get speared by a renegade spring.”

  He chuckled, and I, like a good guest, followed suit.

  “So, what do you need, Trip?”

  “I need to ask you some more questions about The Promised Land.”

  He immediately stiffened. “Trip, really man, I told you everything I know.”

  “But you didn’t, did you, Gene?”

  He sat back and cocked his head. “What do you mean? Of course, I did.”

  I made sure I chose my words carefully. “You know, Gene, you were one of the first people I met when I moved to town.”

  “Is that right?�
��

  “Yeah. I remember thinking, if this is the caliber of musician they got out here, I’m going to seriously need to step up my game.”

  “Well, that’s nice of you to—”

  “I also remember thinking I’d never met anyone with more ideas on how to make a fast buck, than you. It amazed me all the crazy schemes you’d come up with. Remember that idea you had about a record store and casino?”

  Gene smiled. “Hey, that was a winner. Buy your music and gamble all in the same place. Righteous idea.”

  “And didn’t you also want to put slot machines in all the laundromats?”

  “I haven’t given up on that one. Why do you think I live in this dump? I’m going to talk my landlord into it, you wait. All I need is one of them to work.”

  I leaned forward and locked eyes with him. “Harold wasn’t the one who tried to go into business for himself, was he, Gene? It was you.”

  I could see in his eyes his instant inclination was to deny it, and I believe he would have, except by that point, I don’t think he had any more denials left in him. He hung his head and let out a long breath. I said nothing and waited. After a few seconds, he looked up and cleared his throat. His eyes were moist, and his voice was so weak it sounded feeble. “I got him killed, Trip. He was just a boy, and I got him killed.”

  “You didn’t go with him to that old factory. He went with you.”

  Gene nodded. “He looked up to me. Bought every hairbrained scheme I came up with.”

  “Was he a musician?”

  Gene nodded again. “Piano. Not great, but not terrible, either. He didn’t belong out here, though. Too easy to fall in with the wrong kind of people. And he did. Me. And now he’s dead.”

  “And that’s why you got clean.”

  “He died, and I lived. That’s how this stupid, cruel, unfair world works, doesn’t it? It’s always the innocent ones who pay.”

  “I don’t know, Gene. I have a feeling you’re paying too.”

  “Not enough,” he replied, nearly in a whisper. “Not nearly enough.”

  “Gene, I need to get into that factory. A friend of mine is being held there, and I have to save him.”

  “No way,” he said. “Didn’t you hear me? That place is evil. Those people are killers.”

  “I know. That’s why I have to get my friend out of there. I need you to tell me how to do it.”

  “I’m not going to get you killed too, Trip. I can’t live with two deaths on my hands.”

  “If you don’t help me, Gene, there’ll be more than just two. Look, all I’m asking you to do is to tell me how to get in there and act like somebody who’s looking to score a lot of heroin? That’s it, nothing more.”

  “Oh, just that.”

  “Gene!” I yelled. “I don’t have time for this. Now, I have to get into that factory, and I’m going to do it with or without your help.”

  Gene sat back, and we stared at each other. I made certain not to blink. After a few awkward seconds, he shook his head.

  I stood up. “Okay then. I’ll see you around, Gene. Take of yourself.” I headed for the door.

  “Wait,” he said.

  I stopped and turned.

  “You’re really going to do this, aren’t you?”

  “I have to,” I answered.

  “Then you’ll need money, a lot of it.”

  “How much?”

  “A few hundred, more if you can get it. They have to take you seriously.”

  “Okay, what else?”

  “I need to call somebody and set it up.”

  “Do it.”

  The phone was on a table by the television. He walked over and picked up the receiver. “Trip, this friend, he must be a good one.”

  “He’s saved my behind more than once. I figure I owe him.”

  Gene nodded, dialed a number, and then turned his back to me. He spoke so softly I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but the call only lasted a few seconds. He hung up and turned around.

  “Okay, we’re to be there at midnight.”

  “We?”

  “I’m coming with you. You can’t do this on your own.”

  “Why not?”

  “Simple. You don’t look like a junkie. I do.”

  I nodded. “I guess I need to get us some money. Can I use the phone?”

  “Sure. Who are you calling? If you don’t mind me asking.”

  “Another friend who’s about to yell my ear off and tell me I’ve lost all my marbles.”

  “Now that’s a friend,” Gene replied.

  I turned the Caddy into the alley behind the Sands and saw the headlights of Barnard’s rusted out Plymouth coming at me from the opposite direction. We brought our vehicles to a stop grill to grill.

  I hadn’t been wrong about his reaction. After screaming into the phone at the top of his lungs that I was delusional, as well as suicidal, he went down a list of every reason why my plan might be the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. He concluded by asking me if I had my will in order, and who he should contact to collect my remains. After he finished, I told him where to meet me.

  Barnard got out of his car, and I got out of the Caddy.

  “Nice ride,” Barnard said walking up, “Looks like a hearse.”

  “Did you bring the money?” I asked.

  Barnard chuckled. “You’ve completely lost your mind, Callaway.”

  “So you said.”

  “This isn’t going to work.”

  “I think it will.”

  “What happens after you’re in? Then what?” You just going to overpower the U.S Army, and go rescue Clegg like the Lone Ranger.”

  “I always liked the Lone Ranger.”

  “Seriously, what’s the rest of your plan?”

  “In a second,” I answered. “We’re waiting for somebody else.”

  “Who?”

  “A friend. Did you find out when the government acquired that factory?”

  Barnard huffed and shook his head. “Yeah, I did. I had to have the clerk at the courthouse come in after hours to look it up—you owe her two show tickets, by the way. If you’re still breathing when all this is over, that is.”

  “And?”

  Barnard took out his notepad and began reading. “United Magnesium sold the property in ’45 to Federated Alloy. It appears they just let it sit there, and sold it to Hanover Industries in ‘51. Hanover did the same thing and unloaded it to Zanuck and Rowling Inc. in ’61. They dumped it last year.”

  “To the US government?”

  Barnard shook his head. “No. To a company called—let me see if I can pronounce it—Filius Agricola Enterprises. Sounds foreign to me.”

  It took me a second, but only a second. “Unbelievable.”

  “What?” Barnard asked.

  Before I could explain, a beaten up white station wagon came around the corner. The car stopped behind the Caddy, and Gene got out.

  I was about to make introductions when Gene’s face went pale. “Detective Barnard?”

  “Armstrong?” Barnard said back.

  I pointed at them both. “You two know each other?”

  Gene dropped his head.

  Barnard answered, “You could say that. I busted this guy…what four—?

  “Only three,” Gene corrected.

  “Three times on drug possession. What’s this junkie doing here?”

  “I’m clean now, Detective,” Gene said.

  “He’s been there before, Sam. Did I not mention him?”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “Sorry. Did you get the money or not? You have to tell me right now.”

  “Relax, it’s in the car. A thousand greenbacks in small denominations. The captain in vice is a friend of mine. I told him I was running a sting and needed some flashing around money.”

  “Nice fib,” I replied.

  “No fib. This money never leaves my sight.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. Did you really think I was going t
o let you go in there by yourself? Did you think I was going to give you—and an ex-junkie as it turns out—a cool grand, and say have a nice time, call me when you get back?”

  “What happened to it not being in your jurisdiction?”

  “I’m allowing a civilian to play superhero, so jurisdiction is the least of my offenses.”

  “Well, technically, I’m not a civilian, remember?”

  “Oh, please,” Barnard replied.

  “Gene, any problem with Detective Barnard coming with us.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Gene shouted, taking a step backward. “He can’t come with us. They’ll smell cop on him from a mile away. Trip, I told them I’m only bringing one person with me, not—”

  “I’ll make this simple,” Barnard interrupted. “No me. No money.”

  “He’s coming, Gene.”

  “But—”

  “He’s coming. We’ll make up an excuse why there’s more than two of us. He’s our business partner…or something. Sam, lose your badge and gun.”

  Sam took out his badge from inside his jacket and pulled his holster off his waist. “Anything else?”

  “Could you lose the tie, too?” I said.

  “Never,” he replied.

  I checked my watch. “Okay, it’s time. Gene, we’re taking your car. They’ve seen the Caddy out there.”

  “You haven’t told us the rest of your plan yet,” Barnard said.

  “Oh yeah, sorry. We’re going to go buy some heroin.”

  “And then what?”

  “That’s as far as I’ve gotten.”

  My cohorts were not happy with me. Gene was behind the wheel fuming there was a cop in the car. Barnard was riding shotgun furious I didn’t have a plan. And I was in the backseat wondering if everybody was right and I had completely gone mental. None of us spoke, and the tension was building with every mile of desert we put behind us.

  When I was a boy, Pop used to say, referring to when he was in the war, he knew old soldiers, and he knew bold soldiers, but he never knew any old, bold soldiers. I’m certain he only told me that to keep me from doing stupid things, and if that was the case, it worked. I made it through childhood intact, and still look in both directions before crossing the street. The point is, I’m not a reckless person. Furthermore, I consider my level of courage to be no higher or lower than that of the average Joe. Therefore, foolhardiness was not at the heart of my plan for rescuing Clegg. I honestly believed I could pull it off.