Righteous

by Joe Ide

  In many of the groups, the old initiation rituals had gone by the wayside. Tommy insisted on them. Tradition was important. He himself had gone through them; entering a darkened room under an archway of crossed swords, standing at an altar where the Incense Master recited a triad poem. Tommy was ordered to wash his face and remove his clothes. He was given a white robe and sandals, to cleanse away his past and start anew as a member of 14K. Then he had to read the thirty-six oaths aloud. He remembered a few of them.

  If I have caused the arrest of one of my brothers I must release him immediately. If I break this oath I will be killed by five thunderbolts.

  I must never reveal triad secrets or signs when speaking to outsiders. If I do so I will be killed by myriads of swords.

  If I am arrested after committing an offense I must accept my punishment and not try to place blame on my sworn brothers. If I do so I will be killed by five thunderbolts.

  Following the recitation, a cock was killed and its blood drained into a bowl of wine. Yellow paper was burned and its ashes were added to the wine. Tommy drank but didn’t know how much was appropriate. He drank most of the bowl and nearly retched. Afterward, Wan laughed at him.

  “You only take sip,” he said.

  The whole ceremony was pure gibberish, but it gave the initiates the idea that they belonged to an ancient fraternity, that they were part of something sacred and bigger than themselves.

  Zhi knocked on the door. “It’s time to go, boss.”

  Isaiah parked at Harrah’s and from there walked with Dodson to Caesars. He was uncomfortable in places like this, knowing every curve, color, nook, and cranny were designed to manipulate you, make you feel like a high-roller, impressed with yourself for just being there. The lobby was as big as a small lake, with a soaring ceiling and pillars big as redwoods. Roman craftsmen and the set designers from Star Wars had apparently joined forces to create the ancient, futuristic chandeliers. The light was the color of an eagle’s eye and cast a voluptuous glow over the vast expanses of marble flooring embedded with mosaics and Roman motifs. At the lobby’s center, a huge statue of three women wearing togas that exposed one breast stood in a bubbling tiered fountain. Tourists, with their T-shirts, visors, and running shoes, looked lost in all the grandeur and oddly out of place, like they’d gotten off the bus and found themselves at the emperor’s summer palace.

  The bar Isaiah had chosen was just off the concourse. Small and dim, the ceiling ornate and painted blue. A big aquarium bubbled contentedly, jellyfish drifting like living parachutes. Isaiah and Dodson sat down in a booth. Dumbo and another guy were already seated at the bar. They turned around on their stools and glared. Dumbo’s face was bruised from Dodson’s rat-tat-tatting.

  “Sometime we get together, okay?” Dumbo said. “We see what happen.”

  “Oh yeah?” Dodson said. “Well, you better bring a firearm, muthafucka, ’cause if you don’t shoot me I’ll be kicking your ass all over again.” Dodson had changed his plane reservation for later in the afternoon. When he told Cherise she hung up on him.

  Tommy Lau and a nervous little man who looked like a bean counter arrived promptly at six. The bean counter went to the bar with the others. Tommy sat down in the booth. “Mr. Keen-ta-bee?” he said. “Did I say that correctly?”

  “Close enough,” Isaiah said.

  “And you must be his associate, Mr. Dosson,” Tommy said.

  “Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Dodson said.

  Tommy placed a small plastic device on the table, about the size and shape of a Rubik’s Cube, tiny buttons on it and a blinking LED. “White noise generator,” he said. “You understand, I’m sure. Recording devices are bad for business.”

  “So why are we here?” Isaiah said.

  “Ah yes, Americans get right to the point. The Chinese are very different in that respect. Such candidness is considered bad form. We ease into things, make our proposal indirectly. That way, if the other party should refuse, no one is embarrassed because there was no proposal in the first place. Shall we order something to drink? You are my guests, of course.”

  Tommy ordered Glenfiddich, Isaiah didn’t want anything. Dodson ordered the most expensive thing he could think of, Stoli Elit. “I must admit, I don’t like Vegas,” Tommy said. “It’s so—what is the expression? In your face. I much prefer San Francisco. Unfortunately, I’ve never been to East Long Beach. I hear it’s quite a rough neighborhood.”

  Sending me a message, Isaiah thought. He knows where I live. “Could we get on with it?” he said.

  Tommy took a sip of his drink, the rimless glasses reflecting the multicolored lights from the concourse. He smiled slightly, amused and contemptuous; a warlord deciding the fate of a captive. “All right, if you insist,” he said. “We seem to be at an impasse. We both have something the other wants. I wish to speak to Janine. You want to secure her safety and the safety of Ken and Benny. Does that adequately sum up the situation?” Isaiah nodded. “Well, let me assure you,” Tommy went on, “we don’t want Janine harmed in any way, she is like a daughter to me. All we want to do is talk. If she has copies of the records, she gives them to me, and she can go back to her normal life.”

  “What about Ken and Benny?”

  “We’re done with Ken, and as for Benny, he had one copy of our property on a flash drive and another he emailed to himself. Not too smart. Other than that, he knows nothing. If we can come to an agreement about Janine, both shall have their freedom.”

  “Look, I’m not stupid and neither are you,” Isaiah said. “If we turn over Janine, she’s dead and so are Ken and Benny.”

  “The arrangement does require a certain amount of trust.”

  “I don’t have any, and you do realize that if Ken and Benny are killed, we’ll turn the records over to the police, and if Dodson or myself should accidently be hit by a stray bullet, the same thing will happen. We have the leverage, Tommy, so how about this? You hand over Ken and Benny and we don’t give your records to the police.”

  “But what is your leverage really worth?” Tommy said. “If the police close down my business I have others, and I have no direct ties to anything here. Ken will the pay the price, which I am guessing is counter to your mandate. Sarita paid you to extricate him, did she not? Who else could have brought you into this? And if my records should end up with the authorities, you, Mr. Dosson, Janine, Ken, and Benny will be fugitives, on the run for the rest of your lives, and let me assure you, 14K has a long reach.” Tommy lit a cigarette and exhaled patiently. “So let us try another approach,” he said. He slipped his hand inside his jacket.

  The photos of the girls had seared char marks on Isaiah’s spirit. He felt the anger buzzing in his ears. “Keep your money,” he said. “You think I’m gonna take a payoff from a slave trader? I’d rather put a dead rat in my pocket.”

  “It’s the way of the world,” Tommy said, annoyed now. “Don’t be naïve.”

  “Is that what you’d say to your daughter if she was getting fucked by thirty strangers a day? Don’t be naïve, honey, it’s the way of the world? I’ve met evil sons of bitches like you before, but I still don’t understand it. Doesn’t it ever bother you that you’re a parasite? That you make your living off the suffering of others? That most people would rather spit on you than shake your hand?” Isaiah couldn’t think of just the right words to hurt him so he just kept talking. “Did you know that if you died right now, right this minute, people would celebrate and the only thing they’d feel bad about was not getting to torture you before you were gone?”

  Tommy looked icebound, his eyes freezer-burned, the warlord smile a hyphen now. “I think that’s quite enough, Mr. Keen-ta-bee,” he said. Tommy’s guys had turned to face the bar, pretending not to hear their boss getting vilified. Maybe they were embarrassed for him, maybe they were glad.

  “Tell me something,” Isaiah said. “Were you just not smart enough to make it as a legit businessman or were you limited by your lack of character? Was
pimping out your own people your only option? You couldn’t have done something more honorable, like robbing blind folks or kidnapping babies? What I’m trying to get at is, what’s wrong with you? Why are you such a freak? Did you live next door to a plutonium mine? Did you mutate into a monster? Were you infected by some kind of hyena virus? What happened, Tommy? Tell me, I really want to know.”

  “This is unwise of you,” Tommy said, his voice coming from someplace ancient and covered with blood. “Very unwise.”

  “That’s okay,” Isaiah said. “I’ve been unwise before.”

  “Maybe one of these days you’ll end up in the joint,” Dodson said, sipping his Stoli. “Get passed around by the bruthas, see what it’s like. Shit. Them muthafuckas will turn your ass into chicken chow mein.”

  “Was that it, Tommy?” Isaiah said. “Was that your only move, paying me off? Because if it is, go back to whatever shithole you crawled out of and think of something else. I’m done with you.”

  The warlord was back, and he was going to war. Tommy stood up. The bean counter and the others got up too, relieved it was over. “All right, gentlemen,” Tommy said. “Playing chicken with 14K is a very bad idea. We will not have this issue hanging over our heads forever.” He glanced at the bean counter.

  “Two more hours,” the bean counter said, nodding at his watch.

  “You have two hours to reconsider your position,” Tommy said. “If you do not, Ken and Benny will be eliminated, and if our records should go to the authorities, your leverage will be gone and you will never be safe. Never. I am not bluffing, Mr. Keen-ta-bee, and one day we will talk further, in a setting where we can more fully express ourselves.” Tommy pocketed the noise generator and strode away, the others hurrying after him.

  “You know what?” Dodson said. “That muthafucka didn’t pay for the drinks.”

  Isaiah and Dodson headed back to Harrah’s for the car. “He’s up to something,” Isaiah said. “Remember what the other guy said? Two more hours. Like Tommy already has something in the works.”

  “Like what?” Dodson said.

  “I don’t know, but when it happens he won’t need Ken and Benny anymore.” Isaiah thinking, Tommy needs two more hours because…

  “I know what he’s doing,” Dodson said. “He’s giving us time to think about the money. Like we ain’t nothin’ but a couple of niggas from the hood. We’ll take the payoff sooner or later.”

  “That’s not it,” Isaiah snapped. “Two hours is too long. It gives us a chance to come up with something, make a move on him. Tommy needs two more hours because…

  “There you go again!” Dodson said. “Talking down to me. That shit ain’t even necessary, Isaiah. That’s why we always going toe-to-toe. Can’t you talk and be respectful at the same time?” They crossed an intersection, the fear slamming into Isaiah so hard he nearly stumbled.

  “Oh shit!” he shouted.

  “What?” Dodson said, annoyed at being behind again.

  Isaiah hit the speed dial on his phone and waited for somebody to pick up. “Come on, come onnn,” he said.

  “Who you calling?” Dodson said. They were in the middle of the street, horns honking. “How ’bout we get our asses over to the sidewalk?”

  “Hello?” Sarita said.

  “Sarita, it’s Isaiah. Get out of your apartment now.”

  “Why? What’s going on?”

  “You’re in danger. Get your things and get out.”

  “In danger from who? From what?”

  Dodson had a handful of Isaiah’s shirt and was pulling him over to the curb.

  “Have you got a friend, relative, someplace you can go?” Isaiah said.

  “Yes, but why do I have to—”

  “Don’t ask me any more questions, Sarita, just do it.”

  “Isaiah, could you please tell me what’s—”

  “I said, no more questions! Get out of your apartment and get out now!”

  “Okay,” she said meekly.

  “Text me when you get there.”

  “I’ll call.”

  “No, text me,” he said, knowing he’d be busy. He ended the call.

  “So that was it?” Dodson said. “Tommy’s guys needed the time to get to LA and kidnap Sarita?”

  “Yeah.”

  “But they can’t now, so what’s Tommy gonna do about Ken and Benny?”

  “He’ll kill one of them. Make his point. Probably Ken first. We’ve got to find them. In two hours.”

  They sat in the car and looked at the picture of Ken and Benny again. The captives were sitting on the floor between a washing machine and a dryer. Part of a wire rack was visible, bras and panties hanging from it.

  “Massage parlor,” Isaiah said. “A storefront.”

  “How do you know it’s a storefront?” Dodson said. “That could be a house or an apartment.”

  “Look at the plumbing,” Isaiah said. Behind the washing machine a big chunk of the drywall had been torn away, exposing the studs and plastic pipes, which still had a shine on them. “See there? They had to rip out the drywall to put the plumbing in. They wouldn’t have to do that in a house or an apartment building, it would already be there.”

  “Uh-huh, uh-huh,” Dodson said, nodding like he was checking Isaiah’s reasoning, making sure it was correct. “Well, I don’t see how that helps us. There must be a million massage parlors in Vegas.”

  “The skinny guy said he took the picture, but he was calling from somewhere else,” Isaiah said. “There was a lot of noise in the background.” He looked at Dodson as if to say Well?

  “Yeah, I heard all that,” Dodson said. “Dammit. I know them sounds, I heard them before.”

  “The voices weren’t in English. The cadence was wrong. It was Chinese.”

  “That ain’t no insight, was a Chinese guy that called us.”

  “Whoever he was talking to wasn’t his crew. When he shouted at them nobody paid any attention. He was in a public place.”

  “Silverware and dishes!” Dodson said, pleased as a fourth grader with the right answer. “Yeah, you thought you had me, didn’t you? Sounded just like the Mandarin Palace. That boy was calling from a Chinese restaurant.”

  “Took you long enough to figure that out,” Isaiah said.

  “Yeah, but I’m gaining on you.”

  “Okay, so he took the picture at a massage parlor but he called us from a restaurant. They couldn’t be that far apart.”

  “How do you know? He could have been picking up takeout and there’s Chinese restaurants all over Vegas.”

  “Chinese restaurants deliver, and if he took the picture he’s probably on the crew that’s guarding Ken and Benny. He wouldn’t have gone far.”

  “Well, if he could have got a delivery, what’s he doing in a restaurant?”

  “Would you eat your supper in a massage parlor if you didn’t have to?”

  “Didn’t I just tell you about using that tone with me?”

  They used their phones, did some searches and brought up a couple of maps. The first one showed massage parlors in the Vegas area. Dozens of them scattered across the city, Chinese restaurants were the same.

  “We’re looking for massage parlors that are close to a Chinese restaurant,” Isaiah said.

  “Right, right,” Dodson said.

  They compared maps. “The majority of massage parlors are right around in here,” Isaiah said. “Near the I-15, Sahara Avenue on the north, Tropicana on the south. I’m gonna play the odds, stick to that cluster.”

  “You just guessing now,” Dodson said.

  “The area is close to the casinos,” Isaiah said. “If I was 14K that’s where I’d set up shop. More customers.” There were eight massage parlors within walking distance of a restaurant. They called each of them, asking if a nice Korean girl was available. Four said they were Chinese, and Chinese girls were better, more erotic. Isaiah glanced at his watch and started the car. “We’ve got an hour and fifteen minutes to find them.”

&nb
sp; The first massage parlor had a neon sign that said FAR EAST MASSAGE in red letters on a background of white. A red-and-yellow Chinese lantern hung over the door, the red drapes drawn, an OPEN sign on the door.

  “How do we tell if they in there?” Dodson said, annoyed he had to ask. Isaiah didn’t answer. He drove past the place, made a turn and then another, circling the block. He was looking for something.

  “The skinny guy’s not here,” Isaiah said.

  “How do you know?” Dodson said. “Did you see something?”

  “It’s what I didn’t see.”

  “You fucking with me now.”

  “You said you’d help. I can’t help you help.”

  Every brain cell in Dodson’s skull was firing. What didn’t Isaiah see? Why’s he driving around the block? Nothing around here but parked cars.

  Isaiah drove on. “You want me to tell you?” he said.

  “I’m getting it, I’m getting it,” Dodson said, not getting it at all. What didn’t I see? What’s missing? It was like that time he was in the crack house on Seminole when a storm had dumped too much water on the roof and the whole ceiling came down at once. “I got it!” Dodson said. “The car. Skinny boy’s car ain’t here!”

  “You’re gonna have to be quicker than that,” Isaiah said, with an irritating smile.

  “Fuck you, Isaiah.”

  Skinny’s car wasn’t at the second place either. The third, Asian Flower Erotic Massage, was right across the street from the Hunan Delight restaurant. Same font of red letters on a background of white, same red-and-yellow Chinese lantern hung over the door. A Tommy Lau franchise. Isaiah drove around to the back of the building. Skinny’s BMW was parked in the lot with a clunker that was probably the mama-san’s. No customers, that was a plus. Isaiah drove a few doors down and parked, Dodson’s brain still whirring. Okay, they in there but now what?