Black Karma (2 page)

Bai looked at the inspector for a clue to his motives. She wondered why Kelly wanted her involved. The more she thought about the situation, the less she liked it. Still, if she could save a life, the selfless act would boost her karma, which currently flushed in a counter-clockwise direction. She'd taken two lives while rescuing a girl from slavery. As a Buddhist, her prospects for advancement on the astral plane had taken a sudden and precipitous nosedive.

“Do you have a picture of Chen?”

Kelly rummaged inside his raincoat to pull out a piece of paper. The sheet held a grainy image of a man standing on the street, a candid shot showing only his profile. The face in the picture appealed to her. She'd guess him to be in his late twenties or early thirties with a strong, straight nose and full lips.

“It's not much of picture, but it's all we've got,” Kelly said. “The picture was taken in the Mission District where Chen's been making a name for himself on the local fight circuit.” Pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket, he held it out before him. “This is the address of the gym where he trains.”

Kelly turned his attention to Lee. “I understand you used to be something of a legend in the fight clubs.”

Lee stepped forward to take the paper from Kelly's outstretched hand but didn't respond to his comment.

“Pretty face like yours,” Kelly observed, “it's a cinch you didn't lose many fights. Me, on the other hand,” he said, reaching up to feel his misshapen nose, “well, it's pretty obvious my talents lie in other areas.”

“Hidden talents, no doubt,” Lee said.

Comprehension seemed to elude the inspector as he stared at Lee with pursed lips.

Bai drew Kelly's attention away. “How much money was in the bag? What kinds of drugs were being sold?”

He hesitated as if ordering his thoughts before replying. “A million dollars in pure China White—at least, that's what I've been told. The same in cash.”

She looked up to meet Lee's gaze. If heroin from Asia traded hands in San Francisco,
Sun Yee On
, the resident triad, would know about it.

“All right, Kelly,” she conceded. “We'll look into the matter.”

“Your assistance will be greatly appreciated,” Kelly noted. The inspector stood, wadded up his empty paper cup, and tossed his garbage out the open window. He dropped one of his business cards on Bai's desk in passing. “I look forward to hearing from you.”

As he lumbered toward the door, Bai addressed his back. “Sure. What are friends for?”

Chapter 2

“I have seen the enemy, and it is tasty,” Bai said as she sipped her coffee while staring balefully at the half-eaten doughnut in her hand.

Lee stood at the window with his back to her and watched the street below. “I'm willing to bet there's more involved than Kelly's telling us.”

Bai's lips fell into a frown. “Kelly has a dark aura. I can feel it, a black karma that pursues him.”

Lee chuckled. “It's not karma following him. It's a girl, and a pretty one. Do you want me to follow them?”

“No. At this point, I'm not even sure I want anything to do with Inspector Kelly. I want to check out his story before getting involved. The article in the paper didn't mention money or drugs. Something doesn't feel right.”

Lee walked over to sit on the edge of her desk. “I'll make some calls. The fight circuit is a small, close-knit culture. Someone is certain to know Chen. I'm somewhat familiar with the gym where he trained.”

“While you're doing that, I think I'll pay a visit to Uncle Tommy and see if he's missing any China White.”

Uncle Tommy was Bai's godfather. He was also
Shan Chu
, head of the dragon, overlord of
Sun Yee On
triad. When her grandfather had been alive, Tommy had been
Fu Shan Chu,
underboss. After the death of Bai's parents, Tommy practically raised her; he was the only father she'd ever known.

“Give him my regards,” Lee said derisively.

Lee had also been close to Tommy—family. When Lee had come out as
tongzhi
, their relationship ended. Rabidly homophobic, the Brotherhood enforced strict prohibitions against associating with gays. Tommy had never spoken to Lee again.

Bai didn't spout a witty reply. She wouldn't make light of Lee's pain. Instead, she stood and hugged him before turning to walk out of the office.

As she stepped out onto the busy sidewalk, she fumbled her dark glasses out of her pocket and onto her face. Bright sunlight made her squint. Her eyes adjusted to take in fluffy white clouds floating in a pale blue sky. A whiff of salt and the subtle tang of decay teased her nose as a chill breeze blew in from the harbor.

She turned to walk north on Grant Avenue, avoiding pedestrians, mostly tourists whom the natives referred to as
gwailos
. Sightseers with cameras, maps, and bags stuffed with trinkets crowded the sidewalks on both sides of the narrow street. She dodged between herds of shoppers and tables piled high with brightly colored souvenirs. The
gwailos
stared at her as she sidestepped through the crowd. Tall, agile, and beautiful, she turned heads like a breaking wave as she passed by.

Sun Yee On
headquartered in the Businessman's Association Building, an eight-story gray monolith built in the early seventies. The exterior of the building possessed all the charm of a charcoal briquette. The interior of the building fared much better with finishes in light woods and polished brass. Despite its lack of architectural character, the building retained intrinsic value: its location in the heart of San Francisco's Chinatown made it prime real estate.

She took the elevator to the eighth-floor penthouse offices. As she stepped out of the lift and into an airy atrium-style lobby, the scent of fresh lilies greeted her. Large white blooms placed in tall Chinese vases bracketed a circular receptionist's desk. Overstuffed armchairs covered in brown leather hugged the walls. A petite Chinese woman in a chic black suit stood behind the desk with a wireless headphone inserted in her ear.

Bai walked across the room to stand before the receptionist and wait.

“How may I help you, Ms. Jiang?”

The receptionist recognized Bai as a familiar face. It also helped that Bai owned the building.

“Is Tommy available? I only need a few minutes of his time.”

“I'm sorry. Mr. Hu is in Hong Kong. Would you like to leave a message?”

She paused to consider the offer as the receptionist's eyes shifted. Bai turned, instinctively, to find Jason walking toward her with a welcoming smile on his face.

Jason, her ex and the father of her thirteen-year-old daughter, served as
Hung Kwan of Sun Yee On. Hung Kwan
translated to “red pole” and signified the position as second in line for succession after the
Fu Shan Chu.
Jason managed the organization's strike teams, which meant he commanded a small army of triad soldiers. He'd earned his position at a relatively young age by being very, very good at his job. He killed people.

To look at him, one wouldn't think him an assassin. A handsome face with chiseled features and a lean, muscular body made people, especially women, take note. When he smiled, which was often, white teeth dazzled. The fashionable tailored suits he wore cost a small fortune. From all outward appearances, he looked like a successful, sophisticated businessman. His striking appearance served as just one of the many reasons Bai had such difficulty getting over him.

“Is there something I can help you with, Bai?”

“Can you make me stop eating potato chips and doughnuts?”

“I could, but you wouldn't like me afterward.”

“Maybe we should talk in your office, then—if you have a minute?”

“I have more than a minute,” he assured her, gesturing toward the glass doors leading to the executive offices.

He ushered her into his office where they took seats in massive armchairs facing each other. She suspected the oversized chairs were designed to make the occupants feel smaller by comparison.

Jason seemed to read her mind. “I could join you over there if you're feeling lost.”

“Stay where you are. The last time I sat next to you, I ended up naked.”

“I remember vividly,” he replied with a smile. “You forget. I have a pornographic memory.”

Despite every attempt not to, she smiled.

“That's better,” he said. “Now, what can I do for you?”

“The killings in SOMA yesterday. Was
Sun Yee On
involved?”

“No.”

Her forehead furrowed. His accommodating response baffled her. She'd anticipated having to ply him with favors to get what she wanted. “That was too easy.”

“Had
Sun Yee On
been involved, my answer would have been much more oblique.”

“‘Oblique'?” Her voice showed dismay. “You've been spending too much time with your attorneys. You should get out more.”

“I've been thinking the same thing. How about joining me for dinner tonight?”

“No, thank you. We're finished. I'm over you.”

“That's what you said the last time when you ended up naked. Remember?”

“I find it difficult to forget when you keep reminding me. Let's talk about something else. You're sure
Sun Yee On
isn't missing a million dollars' worth of China White?”

“I'm pretty sure I'd know if that were the case,” he stated as he leaned forward. “What makes you think the Brotherhood is involved?”

“I've been told a million dollars in cash and the equivalent value of China White went missing yesterday during the shootout in the SOMA. I assumed if China White traded hands in San Francisco,
Sun Yee On
would be involved.”

“There's nothing wrong with your logic,” Jason assured her. “It's your facts that are wrong. First, if the Brotherhood were to broker a large sale, we'd make sure the transaction took place here, in Chinatown, where we have control over the streets. Second, there's no way we would sell heroin to undercover police officers. We pay them substantial amounts of money to leave us and our business alone.”

“But you do know what happened in the SOMA?”

“I know what was supposed to happen. Obviously, things didn't come off as smoothly as planned.”

“Would you care to share what you know with me?”

“What do I get in return?”

She glared at him. He smiled and crossed one leg over the other. She bit back a colorful reply, which though gratifying wouldn't have served her purpose. Reminding herself that everything had a price, she replied, “Dinner.”

“Deal.” His smile widened. “Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?”

“I'm keeping my clothes on,” she added for emphasis.

He smiled obligingly. “The restaurant staff will be disappointed but understanding.”

“So tell me already. What happened?”

He leaned back in his chair. “Curiosity is both your weakness and your strength. Your nosiness leads you into situations you should be smart enough to avoid but instead drives you blindly forward with single-minded determination. I always find your exploits fascinating, like watching a train wreck in slow motion.”

“I know all that,” she said while windmilling her hand to move him along. “I'm a regular ferreting fool. Now, get on with the story.”

He looked as if he wanted to wax on philosophically but abandoned the notion at her urging. “All right,” he relented. “My understanding is that the narcotics task force hijacked product from a group of Mission District Norteños, then set up a meet in the SOMA, supposedly neutral ground, to sell them back their heroin.”

“So the heroin wasn't China White. It was Mexican Brown.”

“Correct.”

“Aren't the Norteños distributing for the Sinoloa cartel?”

“Correct again.”

“So what happened?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Put a bunch of armed idiots in a room, toss in a million in cash and a million in heroin, and what would you expect to happen? Maybe the Norteños took offense at being sold their own heroin. Maybe the task force thought they could keep the cash and the drugs.”

“Did you hear anything about an Asian guy making off with the money or the drugs?”

His head came up. For the first time during their conversation, he looked genuinely interested. “Perhaps,” he suggested, “you've something you'd care to share with me?”

She thought seriously about filling him in but decided against doing so for the time being. She still had too many unanswered questions in mind and didn't want him finding the answers to those questions before she did.

She slipped a smile onto her face. “We'll talk at dinner.”

He cocked his head to study her. Brown eyes drilled into her before his face softened and a smile made its way to his lips. “I'll send a car for you.”

“I'd rather meet you. Where are we dining?”

“I don't want to ruin the surprise. Be ready at five. I have something special in mind. And wear something elegant. I can't remember the last time I saw you in a dress.”

“That means I'll have to shave my legs.”

“We all make sacrifices,” he deadpanned.

“Does that mean you're shaving your legs, too?”

“You're more than welcome to take my pants off and find out.”

She smiled sweetly. “You don't expect me to fall for that trick . . . again, do you?”

“One can only hope.”

Chapter 3

Lee had called and left a message, asking Bai to meet him at a gym in the Mission District. The cab dropped her off on Bryant near an alley, the only entrance to the business.

As she stood on the street, a cold wind swept in off the ocean to nip at her cheeks and the tips of her ears. She tucked her hands into the pockets of her jacket and looked up. The fluffy white clouds had thinned and darkened to assume a more sinister appearance. Weather in the city, as usual, proved about as dependable as a politician's promises.