The Chairman's Toys

by Graham Reed

  Chapter Forty-seven

  As I drove away from Mickey Wu’s house, I found myself unable to get the concussive harangue of the lead guitar line from The Norwegian’s all-time favourite Dimmu Borgir track, “Progenies of the Great Apocalypse,” out of my head. I chose to take it as an omen, along with two Advil, as soon as possible.

  I had been feeling good about getting my hands on the documents I needed to get Richard and Dante back, but another problem now raised its mulleted head—The Norwegian would not take it well if the super spies found some irregularity in Dimmu Borgir, Inc. and used that to take Mickey Wu down. I had little doubt that my former business partner would blame me if anything happened to his current one.

  I contemplated what proactive steps I could take beyond simply believing that The Norwegian was telling me the truth about going straight. The only idea that came to mind wasn’t a particularly palatable one, but I had no choice. I pulled a U-turn and headed for Nina’s office.

  I leaned against the doorframe and put on a casual smile. “Hey, babe.”

  Nina winced at the sound of my voice. A couple minutes after that, she looked up from her phone. It was just like being married again.

  “Oh, God, Jake. Please tell me you didn’t come back to renege on our deal again.”

  “Nope. Deal’s already done. Agent Wang helped me get what I needed and I did the same for him and your uncle. In fact, it all went so well that I came by to see if you guys wanted to make another one.”

  “Do tell.” Her expression seemed to request the opposite.

  “I’d like to, but I think this one might be above your pay-grade. Is your uncle around?”

  If looks could kill, I would’ve died a happy man.

  “He’s at his hotel taking a nap. I’m not about to disturb him unless you tell me what you could possibly have to offer him.”

  “A real estate deal, as it happens.”

  “Real estate…? Hello? What do you think I do around here?”

  “To be honest, at this point I’m not really sure. Whatever it is, I assume you’re probably on probation, thanks to this business with Mickey Wu. And right now I need someone who can take swift, executive action.”

  I needed the deal I had in mind more than they did. In fact, I suspected that Li Wei needed it like he needed a hole in the head. As much as I might like to give him one, the deal was all I had to offer. And I doubted he would even be interested in that. Which left Nina. The problem was, protecting Li Wei was very much in her self-interest, and few things in this world had a chance of overcoming a force that powerful. Her affection for me definitely wasn’t one of them. But her ego just might be.

  “On probation? That’s, what, petty criminal humour? Very cute, but I really don’t have time to goof around with you right now.” Nina began fiddling with her phone, presumably since it was the only thing on her desk. “As you can see, I’m busy running a real estate agency here. Making actual deals for some of my wealthy clients. You remember them, right? The people you used to house-sit for?”

  “I’m not goofing around here, Nina. I’m trying to save Richard and Dante’s lives.” Her fingers had gone still on her phone so I knew I was reaching her. Now I just needed to move past our vexation flirtations and touch her in a way that never failed to make her heart beat faster. “And make you a lot of money.”

  It took another half hour to fully equip her ego with the weaponry necessary to hijack her self-interest, but in the end Nina agreed to the deal I had in mind. Or rather, Blue Coast Realty agreed to the deal with Dimmu Borgir, Inc. Of course, it wouldn’t be official until I got The Norwegian to sign on the dotted line, but that would be the easy part.

  “I’ve got to say, Nina. I’m impressed. You really know your business.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You’re only just figuring that out now? Did you forget that I got you fourteen thousand off the asking price on your loft?”

  “Four thousand, actually. But the point is, I underestimated you and I apologize. And I know you’re busy so I’ll get out of your hair.” I reached the doorway before snapping my fingers and turning back, trying my best to channel Peter Falk. “There’s just one more thing—you’re sure you don’t need to run this by your uncle first?”

  Nina bristled. “This is my agency, Jake. I don’t need to ask anyone’s permission to do a deal. I’m going to have my legal team draw up the paperwork right now.”

  I smiled and waved good-bye without another word.

  Chapter Forty-eight

  i have the docs. when and where?

  8551 French Street first thing tomorrow.

  Come alone.

  see you then =)

  Before pressing “send” I deleted the smiley face. I really can’t stand emoticons.

  Chapter Forty-nine

  Wendy leaned on the table and tapped a finger on her chin as she added things up. “So let me see if I’ve got this straight: The narcissistic ex-wife cancels out the Viking ex-business partner, and the Chinese government agents are going to take care of the homicidal drug-peddling underwear salesman?”

  “And the Communist Party power-broker, yes.” I took another sip of San Luis del Rio. The earthy flavours of the Mezcal took their time sashaying across my tongue before hopping an express vein to my heart.

  “Leaving us free to take Richard and Dante out on a double-date to celebrate their liberation.” Wendy gestured to the dish in front of us. “Did you want that last taco al pastor?”

  “Yes. And no. Help yourself.” The tacos at La Mezcaleria on Commercial Drive were the best in the city but seven was my limit. “Wait a minute. Did you say ‘us’?”

  She nodded her head, her mouth already full of pork and pineapple.

  I shook mine. “No way. Not us. Me. You remember the part about the Viking and the underwear salesman being homicidal, right?”

  “And you remember my little friend here, right?”

  I experienced a small, post-traumatic shudder at the sight of her stun gun, which had somehow appeared in her hand. “I recall being introduced. But you haven’t met The Norwegian.”

  “I’m tougher than I look, Jake,” she pressed. “Do you know how Dante and I first met?”

  “Strata council meeting?”

  “Try jujutsu class. I was his instructor.”

  “So you’re…what, like a ninja or something?” I tried to remain calm, but it was hard because Wendy was seeming more and more like a real world manifestation of a comic book character I came up with when I was a kid. My ninja had actually been bisexual and used electrified nunchucks. She also did LSD rather than Ecstasy. But hey, it was an era of free love and psychedelics.

  “That’s ninjutsu, dummy. But I could still have you on the ground in about four seconds if I wanted to.”

  She’d get no argument there. Right before he went out to the drugstore on the other side of the world, my dad had given me his first and last piece of fatherly advice: don’t ask questions you don’t want to hear the answer to. But now, as then, the stakes were too high not to know the truth. “Are you messing with me right now?”

  Wendy shook her head. “Scout’s honour.”

  “Well, this does change things a bit,” I allowed. Against my better judgment, I found myself considering taking her along. Which wasn’t all that surprising since my better judgment was in the middle of a dry spell that started around the time I turned fourteen. After the way my last meeting with Mickey Wu turned out, I didn’t hate the idea of having someone along to watch my back, not to mention Buff’s well-muscled pair.

  “I’m serious about this, Jake. I want to get Dante and Richard back just as much as you do. And let’s be honest, you could use all the help you can get.”

  Even if she wasn’t bisexual, my still heart raced with adolescent excitement at the thought of bringing along my very own ninja with her very own stun gun. �
�Okay, you’ve convinced me. I’ll pick you up at nine a.m. tomorrow. Don’t forget your little friend there.”

  “Not a chance. It goes wherever I go.”

  “Everywhere? Even the shower? Because that could be a bit dangerous.”

  Wendy patted my hand. “Many of the things I’ve done in the shower would probably shock you.”

  Chapter Fifty

  “You should call your mom,” Barb advised me.

  “Thanks for the advice. I’ve actually got a bit of a busy morning planned but I could probably squeeze in a parental lecture after I rescue Richard and Dante.” I handed Barb the coffee I now regretted buying as a peace offering and walked past her into the apartment.

  She popped the lid and peered into the cup suspiciously. “I’m actually more of a tea drinker.”

  “Of course you are.”

  “But don’t worry about it.” The corners of her mouth started to elevate unevenly, like a jib cranked up on rusty lines for the first time after a long, wet winter.

  “I wasn’t.” What was more concerning to me at the moment was her unprecedented attempt to smile at me.

  “Seriously, Jake. Call to congratulate her.”

  “For what?”

  Barb’s look of surprise was fleeting. “You didn’t know. Of course. Why would you? She’s receiving the Transport Canada Certificate of Bravery! Isn’t that exciting?”

  “If you say so.” It seemed politic to keep my doubts to myself at that moment.

  “And it’s sort of thanks to you.”

  “How so?” I was not at all sure I’d like the answer.

  “Captain Constable is getting the award for seizing that boat with the drugs on it.”

  For a split second, my heart stopped. The only boat full of drugs I could think of that my mom had me to thank for was my grandfather’s. But she couldn’t be receiving an award for that one since that had happened years ago. And she hadn’t seized it, a fact for which I was eternally grateful in my own non-showy way. Either out of maternal protectiveness or because she had been too busy cursing at me as we watched it sink beneath the waves. “You’ve lost me.”

  Barb’s expression had become one of impatience. I knew exactly how she felt.

  “You do remember that yacht where we rescued you from that hairbag thug the other night? The one that had all that opium on it?”

  “I remember the yacht,” I allowed carefully. “But what’s this about opium?”

  Barb grabbed a copy of yesterday’s Vancouver Sun from the coffee table and thrust it at me. “It’s been all over the news for the past couple days.”

  I scanned the story, on page one no less, honing in on the salient details as fast as I could since I really did have a busy morning lined up. My mother featured prominently, cast as the heroic Coast Guard captain who risked life and limb to seize a luxury yacht along with “an unidentified suspect,” who I deduced was Thaddeus, since I was pretty sure they weren’t talking about me. Upon searching the vessel, the police discovered almost two hundred kilos of opium with an estimated street value of eight million dollars.

  “Pretty amazing, don’t you think?” asked Barb eagerly.

  “I do think. But it says here that the yacht was registered to a foreign corporation, ‘whose ownership neither the police nor the media had thus far been able to determine.’” I looked up at her. “But we already know that Mickey Wu is the owner.” Assuming he read the paper more often than I did, it occurred to me that maybe Mickey’s suitcase had been packed with more than a few thongs, after all.

  Seeing Barb’s expression, I wasted no time in clarifying my position. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to tell the cops about Mickey Wu. Not while he still has Richard and Dante in hand and a chip on his shoulder. That’s why I asked my mom to hide me below deck when the cops arrived to take custody of The Chairman. And I appreciate the risk she—and you—took in doing so .”

  Barb crossed her arms. “Well…good.”

  “She’s even getting a nice award out of the deal. Sounds like a happy ending to me.”

  “Except for the fact that Mickey Wu is a drug-smuggler,” Barb shot back indignantly. “How is it a happy ending if he gets away with that?”

  I patted my pockets for a notebook. “Would it make you feel any better if I added ‘catch the drug-smuggler’ to my to-do list right below ‘rescue Richard and Dante’? Or did you still want me to call my mom before I take care of all that?”

  Chapter Fifty-one

  My illuminating encounter with Barb had put us behind schedule so I was relieved to find Wendy ready to go, though secretly disappointed that she wasn’t dressed like a ninja. At least she was packing her stun gun, as promised.

  We were at Nina’s office twenty minutes later, thanks to light traffic and plentiful parking. Such driving conditions occurred in Vancouver about as often as getting sideswiped by a unicorn, and I couldn’t decide whether to take them as auspicious omens or signs of an approaching apocalypse.

  My feeling of unease only grew as I eased into a spot in front of the Blue Coast Realty office that still had forty minutes on the meter. “I need to run in and pick something up. You want to wait in the car?”

  “And miss my chance to meet the woman who wanted to marry you?” Wendy shook her head. “Not on your life.”

  “She also divorced me, so you may be disappointed by her apparent level of lunacy.”

  Our entrance into the office was an emotional roller-coaster—I was dismayed that Li Wei was there, but pleased to see the secret agents. “How’s it hanging, guys?”

  “Long and loose and full of juice.” Agent Chung followed up with a grin, which, under the circumstances, I found inordinate. “I have been researching idiom on the Internet,” he added by way of explanation.

  “Right…well, keep at it.” I surveyed the room and its occupants, hoping to extract a core sample of the general vibe. Of note was the fact that Nina had kicked off the factory-worker stompers and replaced them with her favourite pair of John Fluevogs. Footwear that was still black as a Monday on Wall Street, but very fashion-forward. Ankle-hugging, ass-kicking boots from the Wicked Witch of the West collection with hyperextended toes terminating in anally intrusive points the size and shape of the Hope diamond. They were ludicrous-looking things, but a clear and promising sign of avuncular defiance. From the way Nina was eyeballing Wendy, she appeared as intent on taking names as teeing up booty.

  Wendy, for her part, seemed a bit disappointed. Maybe she had imagined that Chinese secret agents and a Communist Party bigwig would come across like a pair of James Bonds and the villain-du-jour. But in their standard black suits and matching haircuts, the trio looked more like pallbearers for hire. Their disinterested expressions only added to the impression.

  I assumed all the gloominess in the room meant that the secret agents had failed to dig up locally applicable dirt on Mickey Wu. Li Wei’s lack of agitation also made me optimistic that Nina hadn’t mentioned the Dimmu Borgir deal. Feeling sanguine and having a few minutes to spare, I decided to turn their frowns upside down.

  “I know how you can nail Mickey Wu,” I announced cheerfully.

  All three perked up with a decidedly predatory air, as if I was a Friday afternoon walk-in reporting that my entire family had just died in a bus crash.

  “How?” Li Wei demanded.

  I tossed Barb’s copy of the Vancouver Sun to Agent Wang. “That’s Mickey Wu’s boat.”

  While Li Wei pored over the newspaper article, I sidled up to Nina’s desk. “Is the contract ready?” I asked her quietly.

  She held out a manila envelope without taking her eyes off Wendy. “Who’s your little friend?”

  “My name’s Wendy,” Wendy said brightly. “I really wanted to thank you for helping get Dante and Richard back.”

  Nina’s facial features began to thaw. “Are you a friend of
theirs?”

  Wendy nodded. “Dante and I are very close. And of course Richard is a total doll.”

  “Isn’t he just? I totally freaked out when I heard what happened to them. And when Jake came to me for help…” Nina shrugged modestly. “But since he’s too obtuse to properly introduce us, my name is…”

  “Nina. I know.” Wendy smiled radiantly. “You’re the narcissistic ex-wife.”

  I tugged the manila envelope free from Nina’s abruptly white-knuckled grip. Wendy hadn’t exactly scored me any points just now, but scoring with Nina had been sliding further and further down my priority list lately.

  “This is incredible,” said Agent Chung.

  Welcoming the distraction, I turned my attention back to them. Li Wei appeared to be salivating heavily as he finished reading the article. “I thought you guys would like it,” I said. “And since the media is all over this thing, the cops will be chomping at the bit to nail someone for it. All you have to do is give them the corporate paperwork showing that Mickey Wu owns the company that owns that boat. Next stop, Deportationville.”

  “Unless he’s already made a run for it. He left home with a suitcase yesterday,” Agent Wang said. “A man of his wealth could be anywhere by now,” he added dejectedly.

  “Don’t worry. He’s still in town,” I assured them.

  “How do you know this?” Li Wei asked suspiciously.

  At this point it became difficult not to look smug. “Because we’re on our way to meet him right now.”

  What followed can only be described as a hubbub. To regain control of the room I was forced to explain the backstory, leaving out certain elements pertaining to rogue agents of the Chinese Ministry of Public Security and focusing instead on the heroic liberation of Richard and Dante. I was vague about what I would be trading for them, but Li Wei and the super spies weren’t interested anyway. The drug bust gave them what they needed to nail Mickey Wu and now all that mattered was getting him into custody.