Richie cleared his throat. “How do you plan on helping us?” he said, shaking his jacket sleeves out so his cufflinks showed. She stared at him as he did this.
“Maybe more to the point,” I said. “Why are you helping us?” and I watched her eyes as she considered my question. “Your father will be angry with you, no?” She nodded. “And your sister?” She nodded again. “Okay,” I said. “What am I missing here?”
“Many things,” she said, matter-of-factly. “First, you do not know Chinese ways. You come into our restaurant with no introduction and ask for information from my father. That’s very bad manners. And you ask, of all things, about Tong. So, you embarrass my father again.” She paused, thinking. Then, “My father is a powerful man in Chinatown. He runs Chinatown. Right now, he does not like you, Mr. Cooper. And my sister does not trust you.” I was getting the idea. People didn’t like me. So I nodded.
“But I trust you. You have a hard face. One that has seen much trouble. But your eyes are kind.” I have dark hair and blue eyes. I think the blue is what did it for me.
“Because you make my father angry, he has called the Tong leaders in Chinatown and told them about you. He has also called Mr. Cleveland Wong, who you call your friend, and complained to him. And you clearly don’t understand Tong,” she said. “They are really part of CCBAs…” She looked at me and hesitated.
“The Chinese Consolidated Benevolent Associations,” I said.
“Yes. Main job is to help Chinese families with English language and learn American cultures. So, Tong provide many services,” and she paused again to see if I got it. She continued, “I know you see movies like Black Rain and Bruce Lee movies like The Crow about Chinese gangs. But that is extreme, Mr. Cooper. Like your Godfather movie.”
“But The Godfather is about a real gang, Liu Xue. And I’m sure that many Tong follow the ways of secret societies in China and are connected to gangs.”
Wong had already filled me in on the connection between the Chinese gangs in this country and the gangs in China. Most are organized under Triads—secret organizations which grew in China during the British occupation. They were considered a threat to the safety of the British government—which they were. Today they have spread worldwide with a structure similar to the mafia: soldiers, enforcers, and big bosses.
“No,” insisted Snow. “Tong is not a gang. It started when our ancestors first came to United States to help with becoming part of American culture. Tong are not criminals, though some members did become criminal peoples. Real Chinese gangs are part of Triad, and they are in big cities, like New York and San Francisco—not here in Chinatown.” She took a deep breath. “I hope you understand,” she said, looking worried that I might not.
“I hear you,” I said and her shoulders lost some of their slump. “But,” I continued, “you still have not told us why you are willing to help when there is so much danger for you.” I paused. “Nor how you would help,” I added, looking at her sideways.
After several minutes of fidgeting with her hands and looking around at the empty room, she said, “Mr. Cooper. I think my friend is part of your problems.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
The Friend
“I see,” I said. “My problems?”
She nodded. Eyes not cast down this time.
“Who is this friend?” said Louise, jumping in—softly.
Snow hesitated, looking around again. The emptiness of the restaurant seemed to press in on her.
“I think he is a gang member,” she said, a small voice in such a large room.
“In the Tong?” I said. Surprised.
“No. Like I tell you Tong is not a gang,” she insisted, impatient with me. Then she looked down. Embarrassed.
“Black Lotus Tong,” she said finally. So quiet I had to strain to hear her.
“Black Lotus Tong?” Louise said, surprised and she looked over at me. “I thought the Black Lotus Tong was pure fiction.”
“Yes. There are many fictional stories about Black Lotus. But they are a real gang.”
“Does your father know?” I asked. Richie leaned in, his cuffs showing.
“No.”
“But you said your father was involved with our project,” I said.
“Only that he knows about the project in the Gulf. You see, Tong protect the Zhi Zhu Nu.”
“What?” I said, leaning back. Then I realized how abrupt I sounded. “Sorry,” I said. “Did you say they protect the oil rig?”
“Yes. You see, this is not unusual. As I tell you, their job is to protect Chinese interests everywhere,” and she emphasized everywhere.
“And your friend?” said Richie, leaning in closer now. “What’s his name?”
“His name Lei Sun,” she said. “Lei Sun and my sister are very close. She is Black Lotus Tong Dragon.”
“She’s what?” I said. Again abrupt. Bad manners.
“Triads—biggest of Chinese gangs—have names for leaders. Head of gang is called Mountain Master—or Dragon Head. Li Lang is Dragon Head.” She paused momentarily as if trying to decide to go further. Then, “And Lei Sun is Deputy Mountain Master,” she added, now sitting up very straight as if to brace against my reaction.
This was wild. I didn’t know how to respond.
“So…” she continued, trying nervously to fill the silence, “I know this is not good.”
I couldn’t have agreed more.
“How good a friend is he?” Louise asked, leaning over and taking her hand.
“He is nanpengyou,” she said in a whisper, then noticed the confusion on my face.
“He is my man-friend,” she explained quickly, a soft shade of pink rising in her cheeks. And she looked away, embarrassed. “Someday we will marry,” she added, so quietly I had to lean in to hear and nodding as if to assure me all was fine. “But bigger problem,” she said, her eyes carrying the warning, “Li Lang Zhu and Sun Lei left this morning for Florida. I think they will visit the Zhi Zhu Nu. Maybe.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Back to Miami
Late Monday Afternoon, December 5
We had just taken off from Logan International Airport on a non-stop to Miami and I was watching the Cape disappear in the cloud cover when Louise broke in.
“Black Lotus Tong. Who would’ve believed?”
Richie looked over. He was sitting in the seat directly across from Louise. “What the hell? Dragon Lady?”
“Uh-huh. Like a don, only female.” I figured Richie would get the mafia analogy.
Richie turned away shaking his head. “Damn Chinese.”
The stewardess brought our drink orders. Orange juice for me, cranberry/apple for Louise. Richie ordered a beer. Crazy people, was what I heard when he took his first sip. He didn’t look over at me.
“So, what’s the plan,” said Louise, staring into her cranberry/apple juice.
“He don’t have none,” came the voice from across the aisle. Richie took another drink.
“Part of the answer is on the Zhi Zhu Nu. We have to find a way to board it,” I said.
“It’s in Cuban waters. And it’s also a Chinese company. How do you plan to do that?” said Louise.
I didn’t have an answer. So I shrugged.
“Part of your plan?” she said.
“Yeah,” I said. “No-plan strategy.”
The captain broke the silence by announcing we were approaching Miami International. Saved.
Chapter Thirty-Five
The No-Plan Strategy
Monday Night, Miami, December 5
Even though there’s no winter in Miami, no snow on the baked tile roofs of homes in Coral Gables, no need for salt on the streets, there are still the Santas dressed in their red, heavy winter Santa-suits, white fur pulled up over their necks as though it were below zero, red-cheeked and laughing as though they were enjoying the heat in those clothes, and ringing bells outside the shops in the main lobby of the airport. It’s Christmas and we’ll make believe Santa
is really going to drag all those toys down the chimneys of tropical homes that don’t have chimneys. But who cares? It’s the season.
My cell buzzed in my pocket. I had forgotten to turn the speaker back on when I powered it up again once we deplaned. I turned it back on. Richie and Louise were walking ahead of me but paused when the chimes played.
“Cooper?”
I recognized the voice. Cleveland Wong. He said my name like he wasn’t happy.
I told him he had me.
“Listen,” he said, in a way that reminded me of my first-grade teacher—a nun—when she was about to tell me what I had done wrong. “I completely understand your concern about what happened to you in the Florida Straits,” he paused, “and what happened to you in your home. Reason I gave you Li Lung’s name. But now—”
“Yeah?” I said, trying to interrupt the flow of what he was about to say.
“Now, I get phone calls from Mr. Lung, a personal friend of mine, that you are disrespecting him—”
“No way,” I said. “I asked simple questions. No disrespect intended.” I was confused about what I could possibly have done.
“His daughter…she met with you?”
“That’s right.”
“That’s not good, Cooper. Breach of Chinese custom. You met with her and by doing that disrespected the father. He doesn’t like you anyway, Cooper. He said you have a hard face. Not trustworthy. He thinks you are looking at him for your recent problems. And so…”
“He called you…”
“Yeah…”
“And…?”
“Some others did too. They all think you are fucking around in Chinatown business. Need to leave Chinatown alone now, Cooper. You are personally screwing things up.” He hesitated. Then, after a momentary pause, he began again: “Also—”
“There’s more?”
“Uh-huh. Someone from the Chinese Embassy called the State Department and complained that you are spying on them out in the Florida Straits. Cuban Embassy did the same thing. They are not happy either. Neither am I. You are in international waters out there. Did you cross into Cuban waters?”
“No, we did not. The rig is pushing the edge of the Cuban waters where it’s currently located. All I did was put glasses on the boat. First thing I know, they’re shooting at us. I’m not freaking happy about that either!” There was silence between us for a moment.
Then, “Okay, okay,” he hurried, in rapid succession. “You freelance, Cooper—you break protocols because you’re not military or police. But that has to stop.”
Wong was referring to the time I had chased a ship some Russians had converted into a floating hospital. They were using it to surgically remove body parts from kidnapped women and children and sell them on the black market. Like running a parts store. I followed the ship into Cuban waters and ignored Coast Guard and Homeland Security warnings when I did it. Wong was still mad about that. I couldn’t blame him.
“I’m just trying to find out who murdered my client’s father.” No apologies.
Wong was silent. Then, “What you need to do is back off. Right now. You’re creating an incident for us with two countries.”
“Where are you calling from?” It sounded like a wind tunnel.
“Helicopter. Just circling back to the Coast Guard Station.”
I had an idea. “How about I get a lift from you and we visit the Chinese rig together.” I spoke quickly before he could interrupt. “The boat that attacked us was in international waters. We were within our rights to be there. In my mind, the security of the United States was compromised by that action.”
“No way,” he said quickly. “That’s a crazy idea!”
“Not crazy,” I said. “Think about it. Headline: American boaters attacked by a Chinese boat in the Florida Straits. Remember the Maine!”
“Okay, okay, that’s pretty crazy, Cooper. That’s not going to happen.”
“Meet Ms. Cynthia Hayward, reporter for the Miami Herald. She reports first-hand experience with the incident. She was shot. Remember? And she’s looking for a story.”
A pause. “We would have to involve the Coast Guard,” he said, quietly. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“Absolutely,” I said, thinking of my old buddy, Captain Welder, charge officer for the Miami Coast Guard Station. He bailed me out of trouble two times already. He wouldn’t be happy about my latest idea.
“I’ll think about it,” he said, and ended the call.
“Welder?” said Louise.
“Close. Wong,” I said. Richie came closer. We were already in the main lobby of the airport. I nodded toward baggage. They followed as I talked.
“I think we’re going for either a helicopter ride or a boat ride.”
“Uh-huh. And where would that ride be taking us?” said Louise.
“To the Zhi Zhu Nu.”
They were both silent for a moment.
“See. The no-strategy strategy’s working already,” I said.
Chapter Thirty-Six
The Visitor
Monday Night, December 5
Twenty Shopping Days before Christmas
We were back at my house in the Everglades by midnight. Richie took the guest bedroom.
“See you when the sun does,” he said and closed his door. Then, “Target practice at 7:30 sharp,” came through the door.
Louise threw her bags into my bedroom.
“Confident, aren’t we?” I said.
“You better believe it. If you’re good, I’ll let you sleep with me.”
“It’s my house!” I protested.
“Finders keepers,” she said. I loved her logic. She smiled as she said it. You’ve got to love her.
We closed the door and I turned to Louise. “Come here,” I said, holding my arms out and moving toward her.
“You’re so big and strong,” she said.
I flexed my muscles. “Yep.”
“Oh my,” she said removing my leather jacket. “It’s way too warm for that. And for this old tee shirt,” and she took that off.
“My turn.” I removed her blouse.
“Should I get my gun?” she said, blinking coyly and turning her face sidewise.
“You won’t need it,” I said. “I’m already turned on.”
“Then maybe I need it,” she said. “And maybe my badge too.” She took off my belt.
I was sliding out of my pants when Richie started banging on the door.
“Hang on!” I said, and we both got dressed.
I opened it to see Richie in his jeans and a tee and holding his Browning 9 millimeter and the Mossberg. “Here,” he said, pulling a Glock out of the back of his pants and handing it to me. “You get the Mossberg,” he said to Louise. Then he nodded, “Let’s go.”
“What the hell’s going on?” I said.
“Someone’s in the back yard and it ain’t Herman.” Herman is the ten-foot gator that hangs out in the swamp behind my house.
We followed Richie to his room. Sure enough, you could make out the shape of someone lying in my hammock that’s hung between two palms not far from the mangroves separating the house from the Great Swamp. I wondered if he knew about Herman. I heard a ‘meow’ at the front door and let Sammy in. He must have been hanging out with Herman.
“I’m gonna circle around. See who we got back there,” whispered Richie.
“It’s not like he thinks we don’t know he’s there,” replied Louise quietly. “He’s making it pretty obvious.” She pulled away from the window. I had closed the bedroom door on the way in. So there was no light inside. The form didn’t move.
Then I heard him. A familiar voice.
“I see you peekin’ out that back window. Y’all ruined a good sleep,” and Huck raised himself off the hammock and lowered his feet to the ground. “I got some news,” he said, as he stretched his arms in the faint light of the moon. It was disappearing behind the cover of the night clouds.
“Idiot,” said Richie banging
angrily through the back door to the porch.
Louise just looked at me and shook her head. “Guys. You’re all so weird.”
So, the four of us pulled some chairs around a table on the back porch and sat as Huck readied himself as if he were going to reveal one of his stories from the Great Swamp.
“You asked me to check out the boat one more time, buckaroo,” he began.
“Shit,” said Richie, disgusted. “We on a cattle drive now?”
I shook my head. Huck irritates Richie. Deliberately, my guess. Huck ignored him, but Louise leaned in, giving him encouragement.
“The boat was still there. Crime tape all over it. Not to worry—I was careful.” Richie snorted. Huck turned, annoyed this time. But he continued.
“Nothin’ much really,” and he hesitated like there was a ‘but’ there somewhere, “to the untrained eye,” he added, raising his eyebrows as if there were something special about to come forth out of his mouth. “Except there was residue all over the bottom of that pony,” he continued, looking over at me mysteriously.
“And…?” I said, getting impatient.
“Yeah, I found something…”
“Dammit, would you just say it!” said Richie.
“Now hold on there, amigo, I’m coming to it,” he added quickly, hurt sounding in his voice. Then, “What I found didn’t smell like no engine oil. Besides, the oil level was up on the Canyon. And no sign of a leak anywhere on the boat.”
He paused momentarily, then continued: “If it wasn’t engine oil, then maybe ...”
“Uh-huh,” Louise said, “then maybe what?” Pressing.
He paused for effect.
“Maybe someone’s drilling in the Happy Hunting Grounds.”
Part Two
The Boy’s Story
A Cold Copper Moon (The Cooper Series Book 3) Page 12