Riding the Snake (1998) (42 page)

"What's going on?" he said, as she got the window open. They could hear footsteps in the hall, and Tanisha pulled the Glock out of her purse, jacked a round into the chamber, and held the piece with both hands out in front of her just as the door flew open and a nineteen-year-old shaved-bald gang-banger stood there, unexpectedly looking right into her gun barrel.

"Sheee/f, Mama, what you doin'?" he squealed, as he tried to inch the barrel of a sawed-off shotgun over at her.

"Don't!" she yelled at him, and he froze. "Wheeler, get out the window, now!" she commanded.

Still holding his pants in his right hand, he clambered out the opening onto the roof, while she held the gangster in a deadly standoff.

"What the fuck is this?" the banger said.

"Drop the breakdown or I get busy and start peeling caps!" she said.

He quickly dropped the shotgun, and she heard more footsteps on the stairs.

"Why?" she said.

"Not my doin'. You worth fifty keys a' China White, Mama," he said. "Everybody be gettin' ovah on yo' ass for dat much racehorse." He was holding his palms out to indicate he was no threat anymore. "I be on E here, baby. Don't pull no jack move!"

Then two more gangsters appeared at the far end of the hall behind him. They had assault weapons. She stepped forward and pushed the banger in the chest, forcing him back into the hall. Then she kicked the door shut and locked it. Two shots rang out, splintering the door by her head, and she quickly moved across Breezy's bedroom, then dove headfirst out of the window onto the roof. Wheeler helped her up and they ran across the flat roof to the edge of the house. They could hear the door of Breezy's room being kicked in. "Follow me," Tanisha said, then grabbed the limb of an elm and started climbing down. The trunk of the tree was in the neighbor's yard.

One of the gangsters appeared in the window of the room and yelled out at them, "We don' wan' you, baby, we want da snow brother."

"Who?" Wheeler asked, as they landed in the next yard.

"That's you, Casper. Let's go." She grabbed his hand and started to thread her way through a backyard full of junk cars and old refrigerators. She knew where she was going and moved fast, not hesitating for a moment as she ran. Then she ducked through a hole in the fence and they were suddenly in a narrow alley. They took off running. Pebbles and broken glass cut their bare feet as they ran, still carrying their clothes.

Tanisha led him through a broken fence into the backyard of another house, then through a back gate, and finally stopped next to an old shed. They were both breathing hard.

"Jesus," he said, trying to catch his breath. "Naked in Watts--the White man's nightmare."

"This is Monster C.'s house. He used to be my boyfriend. He's in Lompoc, but I think I can trust his mother." She held her blouse up in front of her, looking for an armhole.

"Tanisha, we can't trust anybody here. Nobody."

"This is my hood."

"This is their hood. You heard that punk. Fifty keys of China White, Chinese dope. Willy supplies these assholes. They all work for the Triad. We're fucked down here," he said, desperately trying to put on his pants.

"Shit," she said, finally finding an armhole.

"You still got your cell in there?" he said, grabbing her purse. "Get us some help!"

"I must be losing it," she said, pulling out the cell and dialing a number.

"Who out there?" a woman's voice yelled, as the lights over the back porch went on.

"It's just me, Mrs. Crawford, Tanisha Williams."

"My land ..." They could hear somebody unbolting the back door. Wheeler was finally into his pants and was fastening his belt as the door opened and a fifty-five-year-old Black woman looked through the safety-chained door. "What you doin' out there with no clothes on, chile? It's two in the mornin'," she said. Then she saw Wheeler, bare-chested, standing next to Tanisha. They could hear footsteps running in the alley.

"It's okay, Mrs. Crawford. Go back to bed," Tanisha whispered, cellphone in her right hand, getting her shirt on as the call finally rang at Parker Center. Mrs. Crawford didn't move; she kept her eye to the slit in the door. The police switchboard answered.

"Officer needs help, shots fired," Tanisha said, using the ultimate police call for help. "Detective Williams, badge number four
-
seven-six-nine-eight. I'm in a jackpot, being chased by three black males armed with assault rifles. I'm pinned down in a backyard, corner of McClung and Stocker in Leimert Park, South Central. I'm a Black female with a White male civilian and we're not going to last long."

"Stay on the line, Detective, I'm putting out the call."

"What you doin' with a White boy, two A
. M
.?" Mrs. Crawford called out. "What you think you be doin', girl?"

"It's okay, Mrs. Crawford. Stay inside," she hissed.

And then somebody rattled the back gate. Tanisha swung in that direction, the Glock in front of her, as one of the G-sters yelled, "She down here!" Then as the Crips started to break down the gate, Tanisha and Wheeler heard the distant sound of a helicopter. In seconds it was overhead, then a xenon belly light snapped on, sweeping the area, quickly finding them. Tanisha held her badge up to the light. The helicopter pilot immediately swung the light off her and found the four AK-armed gang-bangers in the alley next to the back gate.

Seconds later, two squad cars screeched down the alley. The gangsters disappeared into backyards and over fences, chased by four uniformed cops and a belly light. When Tanisha heard sirens in front of the house, she took Wheeler's hand and led him around to the street. Two minutes later they were in the back of a squad car, streaking toward Parker Center, Code Three.

Chapter
39.

The Superior Man

Confucius said, A superior man is sincere, and has the ability to recognize truth, just as surely as he can recognize a bad smell.

Willy had always recognized the truth.

Confucius said, A superior man is watchful over himself when he is alone, because what is true in a man's heart will be shown in his outward appearance. Just as wealth beautifies a house, so does character beautify a body.

So Willy sat quietly alone in his cell at Parker Center, with his jacket buttoned and his hands clasped restfully in his lap. Willy was a superior man even though he suspected that like all mortals, he had some inferior qualities.

Confucius said, The superior man develops up, but the inferior man develops down.

Willy had no clue what this meant. He had made deals with criminals, as well as great national and religious leaders. He had come from great poverty and had assumed great power. He had climbed a slippery, treacherous ladder to gain prominence, livin
g i
n a world so complex that the concept of up and down, good and evil, had become completely obscured by other men's nature and the complexities of modern life. He had developed in any direction that looked plausible just to survive.

Willy knew that in order to survive, he had to find a way to get out of the United States. He had great Guan-Xi in America and could contact people at the very top of the U
. S
. government. They would pick up his call quickly, because he had invested heavily in their campaigns. However, he did not trust American politicians; they fit most of the Master's definitions for inferiority. They would sense the danger in helping him and begin issuing denials of their associations with him. For this reason, he had made the one call allowed him not to a politician or a barrister, but to a skinny teenage Tong gangster named Dry Dragon. He knew the boy had gone to pick up 180 Snake Riders. Willy had been given his cellphone number in case there were problems. He had called and instructed Dry Dragon on what to do. Willy could only pray his exact orders had been carried out.

He had decided not to deal with the American justice system. Western lawyers were all inferior men who prized wealth and ego over principle. He had decided to take the situation into his own hands. He had an exit plan in mind. The only problem would be to get the men who arrested him to recognize his sincerity as surely as a bad smell.

Willy hoped to give these inferior men a stench that would gag them.

At ten the following morning Willy was taken from his cell on the third floor in the correctional wing of Parker Center to a large, windowless interrogation room on the fifth floor. He entered and found himself looking at a handsome, well-tailored Black man in a three-piece charcoal suit. Willy felt Blacks were sly, unmotivated people. He viewed them as a hopelessly inferior race. The Black man introduced himself as Cameron Jobe and said he was the Attorney General of the State of California . . . something Willy found hard to understand. The American system seemed determined to reward guile over accomplishment. Also present were two people Willy had never seen before. A police Captain named Verba and a white-haired, distinguished-looking man with blue eyes, who was not introduced.

Willy was shown to a seat. On the table in front of him was a folder. Cameron Jobe turned on a tape recorder and stated for the record the location of the meeting, the date, and the time. Then he read Willy his Miranda rights.

"We know you speak English very well," the Black inferior man said, "but would you like an interpreter?"

"That is very kind, but not necessary," Willy replied in a calm voice, hiding both his pride and contempt.

"You are about to be charged as an accessory to the second
-
degree murder of two police officers, with attempt to avoid arrest, as well as conspiracy in the murders of Prescott Cassidy and Angela Wong. With the exception of avoiding arrest, these counts are all Class A felonies. Due to the serious nature of these crimes and the international implications, I would like to strongly suggest that you retain counsel," Cameron Jobe said, as he seated himself across the table from Willy.

"I will not require a solicitor," Willy said softly.

"I disagree," Cameron said, "but in that case, I want you to sign this sheet. It states that you have been offered an attorney and read your Miranda rights; that I have recommended you take advantage of legal counsel and that you have declined of your own free will."

He handed the sheet of paper to Willy, who read it quickly and then put his hand out for a pen. One was handed to him and he signed it.

"Before you, Mr. Wo Lap, is a folder. Open it please, and inside you will find two documents. One is a copy of an Agreement that was taken from a temple inside the Walled City of Kowloon, which is your Triad headquarters in Hong Kong. The other was transcribed from Prescott Cassidy's automobile tape."

"I have no such headquarters in Hong Kong," Willy said. "I know nothing of anybody named Prescott Cassidy."

"The document is a contract between you and Chen Boda, who I'm sure you know is the head of the Chinese Military Commission in Beijing." Cameron continued, unfazed. "The Agreement states that you will run, unopposed, for Chief Executive of Hong Kong in the mid-'98 elections, in return for huge financial considerations from Beijing outlined in paragraph three. Paragraph six of this Agreement also says that, in the event you fail to be elected, the Chinese government will help you reattain your position as Shan Chu. I understand a Shan Chu is like a president or head man of a Triad. The document is, of course, written in Chinese, but I have an accurate translation before me. Would you please read the paragraph I'm talking about?"

Willy looked at paragraph six of the document written in Mandarin. He had supervised its writing the afternoon of his historic meeting with the President of China, in the beautiful Zhong Nan Hai Garden in Beijing.

Willy reread paragraph six, even though he knew the document by heart. Then he looked up and nodded, indicating he had finished.

"Is that your signature?" Cameron Jobe asked. The Attorney General was ready for a denial. He had already had the signature authenticated by two separate handwriting analysts. Cameron and the room full of observers were surprised when Willy leaned forward, looked at the signature at the bottom of the document, then said, "This is my signature."

"Good," Cameron noted. "Mr. Wo Lap, I am now going to charge you with the aforementioned crimes. Again, I feel it is imperative for you to hire an attorney before we proceed."

"I wish to make a statement first," Willy said.

Cameron looked over at Rick Verba, who was in the corner of the room, then at Judge Hollingsworth, who shrugged.

"I do not wish to make this statement twice, and it is very important to me that I am believed. Therefore, I would like to suggest that I make this statement while attached to a polygraph machine." Willy could see that the remark took them by surprise. 'T assume," he continued, "you have the equipment in this building and we can proceed quickly. When you hear what I have to say, you will agree that it is in your interest not to waste precious time."

Cameron Jobe looked at his colleagues in the room, again ending with Judge Hollingsworth, who nodded. "Okay, we can arrange that," Cameron said, then nodded to Rick Verba, who left the room to set it up.

"You're aware of the nature of polygraph examinations?" Cameron asked. "You can't just make a statement. You have to be asked questions that are answered yes or no."