Blood Passage (15 page)

Peter made a mental note to call Martin’s mother. He hadn’t spoken to her since the funeral of Uncle Stephen because she’d removed herself from the family circle, which was the appropriate thing to do, given that she was a
seigweipor
, a Caucasian female, but he thought it would probably be best to talk to her for the same reason he’d talked to Grace. The police did not need any more information about Martin than they already had in their files. They’d had their chance to catch Martin’s killer and had failed.

He studied the bald head of his driver, Benny Hu. Stocky and muscular, Hu had been with Peter for a number of years and was fanatically loyal. He’d twice been shot in altercations with enemies of the society where Peter had gone to deliver punishment for wrongdoings, and both times the guns had been aimed at Peter. Hu lived a very ascetic life and had never been arrested. Peter trusted him with his life. When Peter moved around in the city he often took someone with him in addition to Hu, for contingencies, but this afternoon it had not been necessary. It was only Grace, after all.

He removed his iPhone and speed-dialed a number. It rang twice and was answered.

“
Organized Crime Unit, Melton speaking.”

“
You liked the names I gave you for the Phoc killing,” Peter said.

“
You read about the arrests, I take it.”

“
I did.” Peter said. He’d given Melton the names of three members of the Fuk Wah gang who’d been responsible for the murder of a youth who recruited school children for a Vietnamese gang. The three had been arrested soon afterwards and arraigned on murder charges. Fuk Wah was a gang consisting of teenaged immigrants, almost all illegal, from the Fukian province of China. Fuk Wah’s informal patron was William Chow, a snakehead who’d been a friend of Philip Ling but had quickly switched his allegiance to Lam after the election. Fuk Wah competed with Biu Ji for business on the streets of Chinatown and Peter had no love either for them or for their benefactor, Chow.

“
You must be glad,” Melton said. “Gets them out of your hair, I take it. Less competition on the streets for your boys.”

“
I’m glad as a concerned citizen who’s alarmed at the rise of violent crime on our streets by uncontrolled mobs,” Peter said.

“
That’s a laugh.”

“
They’re no better than the Vietnamese gangsters they compete with,” Peter said curtly. “They make the streets very dangerous and they invade innocent people’s homes at random. They’re like undisciplined dogs running around.”

“
Well, whatever. This’ll keep their heads down for a little while, at least. Anyway, I was just about to call you.”

“
Oh?”

“
Homicide’s back on your cousin’s murder, as you thought. Jointly with Cold Case. I just talked to Lieutenant Hank Donaghue and a Detective Stainer. Donaghue asked me to run a Susan Choi and her husband Charles Chong. He also asked about Tommy Leung. Apparently he was your cousin’s friend. I told him none of them had a record on file. They’re at the beginning, doing a basic background on the victim.”

“
All right,” Peter said, disinterested. He’d already talked to Martin’s old girlfriend a long time ago. She knew nothing of value. He’d also talked to Tommy right after Martin’s murder, probing for a connection to Philip Ling. Tommy also had known nothing. “I appreciate the information.”

“
Yeah.” A sardonic chuckle. “Meanwhile, you know I’m still looking for info on the credit card scams. If you hear anything about who’s behind it,
I’d
appreciate it very much.”

“
Of course.”

Peter ended the call. Immediately the phone rang again.

“
Wei
?”

“
Mr. Mah, it’s Henry Lee speaking.” Henry was the
Cho Hai
or messenger of the society, referred to in English as the Straw Sandal. In addition, he was Peter’s attorney and also represented Peter’s employees whenever they needed a lawyer.

“
Mr. Lee, how are you?”

“
I’m well. I trust your day is progressing pleasantly.”

“
Yes, it is.”

“
I’m calling on behalf of the
Shan Chu
, who is on his way to your office and would like to speak to you.”

“
Thanks, Mr. Lee. I’m on my way there now.”

“
Very good. Uncle Sang will be gratified. He’s having a difficult day, Mr. Mah, and isn’t in the best of moods.”

“
Good to know, Mr. Lee.” Peter ended the call and looked out the window. He shifted slightly on the leather seat and felt the gun press against his hip in the leather holster on his belt. He made a mental note to make arrangements for a more disposable weapon after he met with Lam, a gun he didn’t mind dropping into the river when he was done with it.

When he reached the top of the creaking, narrow staircase and emerged into the third floor hallway above the restaurant, he immediately sensed something in the air. Down the hallway on the left side were the doors leading to his private rooms. These doors were closed, as they should be. The doors on the right side of the hallway, which led into his private office and outer office, were also closed with exception to the door immediately in front of him opposite the stairs. This door, which opened into a vestibule contiguous to the outer office, was always left open, and so on first appearance everything seemed normal. However, Peter knew that it was not.

Benny Hu preceded him into the little vestibule. The room was decorated with red and gold leaf wallpaper, plaster columns with ornate carved dragons, antique furniture from Macau and painted tin ceilings. An enormous aquarium filled with tropical fish dominated the center of the room, and in front of the aquarium on a pedestal was a large bronze representation of Kwan Kung, the legendary Chinese general and god of war. Facing the door, Kwan Kung allegedly protected Peter’s center of business from the intrusion of any evil spirit. Peter did not necessarily believe the superstition, but he definitely believed in the importance of Kwan Kung being seen by anyone who
did
believe the superstition.

This room, intended for visitors waiting to be shown through the outer office into Peter’s inner sanctum, was empty. Peter followed Hu into the outer office, which was decorated in a style intended to remind one of British Hong Kong, with antique desks, a large metal-bladed ceiling fan, bamboo window shades and dark mahogany filing cabinets. Hu sat down at a desk he was permitted to use and took a newspaper out of the top drawer. Without a glance at Peter he began to read the paper.

Peter looked at the young woman sitting at the other desk in the outer office. Mikki Lung was his niece, his oldest sister’s girl. She worked for him as an administrative assistant, answering Peter’s telephone, screening his e-mail, and so on. Sitting on the corner of her desk was Jimmy Yung. Jimmy liked to hang around the office talking to Mikki. One look at both of their faces told Peter that Lam was indeed waiting for him in his inner office.

He opened the door and walked in. Leaning back in Peter’s large leather chair was the
Shan Chu
.

“
Hello, Uncle Sang,” Peter said in Cantonese. “How are you?”

“
I am unwell, thank you,” Lam Chun Sang replied. “My feet hurt and my back is sore this morning. Thanks for asking.” Lam weighed nearly three hundred pounds, rather heavy for a man in his seventies, but he was addicted to pastries and chocolate and it was hopeless even to think of losing weight. He wore a rumpled grey jacket and a white shirt open at the neck, grey trousers a shade darker than the jacket, and expensive Italian shoes. Lam ran a hand over his bald head.

“
You have this place looking like something out of nineteenth-century San Francisco,” he said, waving his hand at the office around them. “Why don’t you move uptown into one of my high-rises and enjoy more modern conveniences?”

“
I like it here, Uncle,” Peter said, disappointed that Lam did not appreciate the atmosphere he wished to create.

“
This is Lester Ping,” Lam said, pointing to a little man sitting in one of the two wingback chairs arranged before Peter’s large teak desk. “You may already know him.”

“
Yes,” Peter said, “we’ve met before. How are you, Mr. Ping?”

“
I’m well, thank you,” Ping said with a nervous smile.

“
Sit down, Peter,” Lam directed. “You can dispense with the hospitality, I’m bloated with all the tea I’ve had today. We’re both busy men and I won’t waste your time.”

“
You never waste my time, Uncle,” Peter said. He sat down and composed himself, folding his hands neatly in his lap. He smiled politely. Calmness was essential. Calmness, respect, loyalty, obedience. These were the traits that endeared Peter to Lam.

Lam turned his gaze on Lester Ping. “I like this little man, I find him very interesting. His wife’s sister is married to a good friend of mine back home, did you know that?”

“
No,” Peter said.

“
Lester here is the baby of the family and I promised to keep an eye on him while he’s away from home. Right, Lester? Keep you out of mischief?”

“
Yes, Uncle Sang,” Lester answered nervously. In his middle forties, he wore a grey suit that was as neat as a pin, accented by a black tie, black over-the-calf socks and black shoes. He did not look like anyone’s baby as far as Peter could see.

“
Lester, here, has been in this country for two years now. He’s an artist, a genius. His work is without parallel.”

“
I agree,” Peter said. “I myself have one of his documents and it’s been very useful to me.”

Lester Ping was a counterfeiter who specialized in passports. In an age where technology had endowed personal identification documents with everything from holograms and machine-readable code to embedded chips, Lester was a master whose work was undistinguishable from the real thing. He was on loan to Lam in payment for services rendered to the elders in Hong Kong, and his original assignment had been to train counterfeiters working in a shop owned by Eddie Leung. However, the talent pool had proven to be disappointingly shallow and Lester was doing much of the important work himself.

The arrangement was that Lester worked for Eddie and was paid by him. Eddie in turn sold the finished product and pocketed the profits, on the understanding that his society brothers had priority when a document was required on short notice. Eddie was also required, along with the other members of the society, to donate generously to a charitable fund that was used to assist the less fortunate in the Chinese community in accordance with one of the thirty-six oaths each member had sworn to obey when joining the brotherhood. It was an arrangement that worked very well, even in the case of an idiot like Eddie Leung who was currently on bad terms with the society, but Peter suspected that something had gone wrong. Otherwise, the Dragon Head would not have brought Lester Ping to Peter’s office for this meeting.

“
Lester’s been telling me an interesting story,” Lam said. “I wanted you to hear it.”

Peter looked at Lester Ping and made a conscious effort to relax his expression. “Please speak freely, Mr. Ping. I’m very interested in anything you may wish to tell me.”

Lester Ping nodded, folding his hands in his lap. “Mr. Leung has been very good to me. He pays me very well for my work and treats me with respect.”

“
Of course,” Peter said.

In addition to his big box electronics outlets located in Chinatowns in a number of large American cities, Eddie Leung also ran a profitable business out of the back door in pirated DVDs, stolen goods, wholesale pornographic movies and other such commodities. A cluster of warehouses along the riverfront were managed for Eddie by his son, Tommy. When the time had come to set up a full-scale counterfeiting operation, the Dragon Head and White Paper Fan of the day had deliberated long and hard before deciding that Eddie was the appropriate choice to operate the business. Although not well-respected, he had a knack for making money and his electronics stores provided an ideal distribution system. Help came to Eddie from all sides. Once the business was in operation everyone was pleased. At the center was identity theft, where personal information was illegally obtained from the public and used in a variety of ways, including phony bank loans and mortgages, false tax returns, theft from bank accounts and a variety of counterfeiting activities including fake credit cards, birth certificates and passports. It was very profitable for Eddie right from the beginning.

However, the internal war between Lam and Philip Ling had spoiled Eddie’s position within the society. He’d been friends with Philip before all hell broke loose and although he publicly disapproved of Philip’s rebellion against the will of the society he privately sympathized with his friend. At first he quietly helped Philip behind the scenes but when the killing began he told his friend he would no longer be involved. A coward, he was deeply afraid of Peter. He made a great deal of noise about sitting on the fence and not taking sides in the dispute, but this position was as unpopular with his brothers as his earlier sympathy for Philip. Loyalty and fidelity to the society were of paramount importance, and since Lam was now the Dragon Head once again everyone was obligated to provide unconditional support to him, not sit on the fence and strike a phony pose that no one believed. It cost Eddie a great deal of face, and as a result he was marginalized within the society. No one interfered with his businesses or family and he was still expected to meet all his society obligations, but among his brothers his status and influence were greatly diminished.