The Boy from Left Field (9 page)

Right Up Panny’s Street

They all looked shocked. Then Panny smiled. “I’m not worried. Every group has its problems, right? But how did you know the guy was Chinese? Not all Asians are Chinese!”

Martin smiled. “I know that. I wasn’t sure, until I remembered that I’d gone to dim sum with my aunt one time, and I noticed the same guy, or someone who looked an awful lot like him, at another table. He was dressed in a suit and tie and looked different from all the others — important. I was curious, so I asked my aunt about him. She knew the restaurant owner, and he told her the guy was a big shot in the Chinese community, a rich guy who supported a lot of charities. I think the owner didn’t want to go into more detail, even though he may have known more.”

Panny smiled. “Sure, that’s how it goes all right. I guess he thought the less you outsiders knew about the Asian gang scene, the better!”

She winked, laughed, opened the hall door, and pointed the way for the others. “Don’t worry! The fact that Mr. Big is Chinese makes it all the easier to check him out. The person we need to see is Professor Sam.”

They left the Schnitzel House in a hurry, calling out their thanks to the bald-headed manager. Back on the busy street, Panny gave them instructions. “I’m heading home to get my bike and to pick up Chew-Boy. If you walk two streets east and turn right you’ll be on Emerald Avenue. Look for Number 202. That’s where Dr. Sam lives.” She glanced at her watch. “He should be there right now, but I’ll call him on the way just to make sure. See you in about ten minutes! And by the way, don’t buy any food. Dr. Sam always has great stuff to eat.”

As Panny sprinted away down a side street, the three boys walked on slowly down Gerrard.

“Wow! You think this rich guy really is the head of the Rippers?” Albert asked Martin.

Martin shook his head. “I don’t think so. He must be into other things. More important things. He probably just uses the Rippers to do some of his dirty work. I hope they don’t beat up Elroy. He can help us.”

“I wonder who Dr. Sam is.” Hawk said.

“We’ll soon find out,” Albert replied.

It didn’t take the boys long to find 202 Emerald. It was a medium-sized brick apartment block, neat and tidy, with small balconies, some of them decorated with plants and flowers.

They had been killing time hanging around outside the building for only a few minutes when Panny zoomed down the street, red panniers catching the light and a white fluffy animal squirming around in the front basket of her bike.

“He’s up there!” she shouted to them. “Second floor. I’ll lock my bike in the lobby. Here’s Chew-Boy — see how happy he is to be going visiting! He can protect us if we get ambushed.”

The boys laughed. The idea of that animated muff protecting anyone seemed pretty doubtful.

“Don’t laugh!” Panny said. “Chew-Boy is a real killer.”

They laughed again and trooped up the stairs. Panny led them to Apartment 26 and knocked on the door.

“Come in, Panny! It’s open,” said a clear, bright voice.

They stepped into the apartment, walked down a long book-lined hall, and came out in a big sitting room, a comfortable space that contained more books, a sofa, armchairs, and a work table stacked with computer equipment. The walls were covered with paintings and posters. Some of them were crime posters, police “wanted” notices, and photographs of crime scenes.

A tall, slender man dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and low cowboy boots greeted them. He nodded to each of them as the boys were introduced.

“Quite a gang, Panny! They all look pretty smart — must be from your gifted class.”

“Right on!” Panny told him. “This is my cousin, Sammy Chang,” she explained to the boys. “He’s a professor of criminology at York. Knows just about everything you’d want to know — and maybe more — about crime and gangs in Metro Toronto. Usually has some food around, too.” She looked at him expectantly.

“Your timing is good, Panny — as usual. Good to see Chew-Boy, too.” He laughed and his horn-rimmed glasses, hanging by a string, bobbed up and down on his shirt. He disappeared into the kitchen and they heard some rattling dishes. Hawk and the other boys studied the posters.

“Wow! Look at this one — ‘Street gangs of Toronto and area’ — I wonder if the Rippers are on here.”

“And here’s a wanted poster for some serial killer,” Albert pointed out. “The Mississauga Strangler. Suspected of thirteen murders. Last seen east of Toronto stuck on a stalled GO train and carrying an orange suitcase.”

“He doesn’t exist,” Panny told them. “My cousin’s students made some up for a joke. Oh, boy! That looks good, Dr. Sam!”

The young professor had carried out a large tray weighed down with spring rolls, barbecued pork buns, won ton crackers, chicken wings, and egg tarts. “There’s some orange soda on the counter out there,” he told them.

“Of course you guys realize that you’re eating my supper,” Sammy added, with a wry smile. “But don’t worry. My girlfriend’s just invited me out for Indian food.

“Now, Panny, what’s all this about these gangs you’re scouting? — It’s not something I would recommend, by the way,” he added.

“It’s okay, we’re not being stupid about it,” Panny reassured him. She picked off some chicken from one of the wings and fed it to Chew-Boy. ”We know it’s dangerous stuff to get into, but it wasn’t our fault. The Rippers gang stole a baseball glove from my friend Hawk here. They gave it to a boy named Elroy, and we think they’re using him to do some bad stuff. We just want to get the glove back, get Elroy out of trouble, and pass along the case to Albert’s cousin, who’s with the police. But now Martin here, our main scout, has spotted something unexpected and we thought we’d check it out with you.”

“Very good. So check.”

“Well, you know something about the Chinese gangs in Toronto, right?”

“A few things, sure. It’s one of my specialties.”

“So could there be some Chinese gang that’s using some kid street gang like the Rippers to pull off things, and could that gang be headed by a well-dressed, grey-haired, distinguished-looking Chinese gentleman who gets driven around town in a black limo?”

“That’s a blue suit for the gentleman,” Martin cut in. “And the car is an old Cadillac or Lincoln, or something like that — but in great condition.”

Professor Sam considered this. “Wow! That’s a pretty general description. It isn’t going to help the police very much if they have to look for these guys. I probably can’t identify this fellow you’ve seen, Martin, or tell you for sure if he’s connected to the Rippers. Tell you what, I’ll just fill you in on the Chinese gang scene, and then, if you think there may be a connection, you can go to the police. But before I tell you anything, you’re going to have to promise not to take on this crowd by yourselves. I don’t care if you do hang out in a gifted class — this could be dangerous territory!”

“Sure, we all agree to that, don’t we, boys?” Panny glanced around her circle and each of her friends nodded. The professor saw this and continued.

“Okay. First of all, I should mention triads. This is a special Chinese idea. It goes way back to the eighteenth century and was the basis of some secret patriotic societies of the time. The sign used by these societies was the triangle, or triad, the three-way connection of heaven, Earth, and humans. Over time these triad societies became criminal organizations. When China was ruled by the Maoist Communists, these societies tended to work from Hong Kong, which was still under British rule. From there the gangs spread out to wherever Chinese people settled…. Now, you know, these gangs are secret and they demand loyalty from their members. They may not threaten every individual, but they can be like bullies in the schoolyard. If they notice you and you don’t co-operate with them, or if you try to stand up against them, you can get into big trouble.”

Hawk felt his throat go dry. He squeezed the already crumpled skull-and-crossbones card in his pocket. Gangs and bullies, secret societies. But his father had taught him that he, too, was a warrior. A good warrior. He had to keep in touch with the fire inside him.

At this point, Albert raised his hand.

“A question?” Dr. Sam asked. “Fire away! Or maybe I shouldn’t put it like that when we’re talking about gangs!”

Albert and the others laughed.

“Is it something like the Mafia?” Albert asked.

“Good question, Albert. Yes, it is, with some big differences, of course. Now, the triads have operated in Canada for some time — there must be at least eight to ten thousand members across the country. They do lots of nasty things, and they’re a great embarrassment to the Chinese community. The triad gangs here have their specialties. They do a lot of counterfeiting and credit card theft and forgery. They deal with illegal movies and DVDs and stuff like that. They smuggle specimens of endangered species. Not to mention car theft, gambling, drugs — and many other nasty things that make them a lot of money.”

At this point Hawk raised his hand. He was so excited he could hardly speak, but he managed to get control of himself. “Excuse me, Dr. Sam. Could these triads also deal with sports souvenirs? I mean, could they forge things like autographs and signed pictures and hockey cards and stuff like that?”

The professor slipped off his glasses and let them hang on their string, then began to push them back and forth in front of him as he spoke.

“Definitely! I can see you kids are from a gifted class. These criminals go with the flow, Hawk. They find or steal what the market wants. There are lots of people in Canada who collect sports mementos and souvenirs. So why not forge them and make some money?”

Hawk remembered what Mr. Rizzuto had told him:
There are a whole lot of forgers and guys who peddle counterfeit stuff. They make money from their swindles so they can afford big prices to buy real authentic stuff.

Of course, that Babe Ruth baseball would be just the kind of thing they’d go for! And hadn’t Mr. Rizzuto been told that “others” were paying Mr. Wingate for special information on Toronto and the islands?

Hawk squirmed in his seat and wondered if Mr. Big was connected to more than his stolen glove. It was really important that they get in touch with Elroy and convince him to help them out.

Then Panny said, “Thanks, Dr. Sam. Great information. Up until now, all I knew about the triads was that their members had to swear funny oaths, like ‘If I rob a sworn brother I will be killed by five thunderbolts!’ But what do you think? Could this Chinese guy that Martin saw be connected to the Rippers? Could the Rippers really be working with a triad gang?”

The professor shrugged his shoulders. “Anything’s possible, cousin Panny,” he said. “If there’s big money in there somewhere, there could some gang stuff involved, Chinese or otherwise. The Rippers might just be the lowest rung on the ladder. Which is all the more reason for you kids to stay clear of it. I don’t want either the Rippers or the Sun Yee On, or anybody else for that matter, to come around and give any of you a good spanking!”

At that instant, Chew-Boy stood up and barked. They all jumped, hearts in their throats, and seconds later burst out laughing.

“I hope that isn’t a bad omen,” the professor said. “Anybody want another egg tart?”

Kids on the Warpath, Slowly

Outside on the street, the kids went over their plans.

“So, Professor Sam doesn’t want us to go after that gang,” Albert said. “I guess we’d better take his advice, right, Panny?”

Panny looked thoughtful, but Martin frowned and spoke up with passion. “After all our trouble?” he protested. “Just to let the gang get away with it? No way!”

“We don’t want to end up in the Don River,” Albert said. “And besides, the police won’t like it, and our parents will kill us if the criminals don’t!”

“Nobody’s going to kill us,” Panny assured him. “Look, boys, it’s only Friday. Albert and I have very busy Saturdays. I have music lessons and Chinese school, and he has chess and art classes. And I’ll bet Hawk here has some more studying to do with his dad. So let’s do it this way. We don’t rush off right now or tomorrow. We meet on Sunday morning outside of Elroy’s house. It has to be early, in case his mum makes him go to church. From what Martin says, we should be able to convince him to help us. At the very least we might get him to break with the gang. When we hear what he says, we can decide what to do. Either we go to the police or we try something ourselves … or maybe a little of both! How about it, guys?”

Hawk nodded enthusiastically. He was anxious to see his dad. Monday, the deadline set by Charles, the Ferret Master, was coming around fast. He just couldn’t tell the kids about the Ferrets, although he was bursting to. They were all working together to get his glove back, to help Elroy — and now maybe there was a connection with Mr. Big and the lost Babe Ruth baseball. He couldn’t dump his Ferret problem on them, too — they might even laugh at him. No, he would get advice from his dad about that one. He had real respect from his friends and he wanted to keep it. And he trusted his dad so much more now.

“Should we meet behind the Dumpsters opposite Elroy’s house?” he asked.

“Right, Hawk,” Panny agreed. “Let’s make it nine o’clock. We’ll figure out how to get hold of Elroy without his mum being around when we size up the scene. Just call me if anything comes up between now and then, okay?”

They all agreed and split up right there, scattering in various directions. Hawk headed east toward Mr. Selim’s restaurant. He would check in with his mum and then go on to his father’s. Jim had promised to meet him at his house around seven. He would stay there overnight and finish up his studies on Saturday. He was due to give Ms. Calloway an outline of his talk on Monday morning. If only the Ferrets weren’t threatening him it would all work out so well!

When he got to Mr. Selim’s he was surprised to find that his mother wasn’t there. Their dusty little room had a funny feel to it, as if it was especially empty and vacant at that moment. Then he noticed that his mother’s old suitcase was gone, along with most of her meagre stash of clothing. There was no note, so he ran in search of Mr. Selim.

Hawk found him in the big steaming kitchen that smelled of curry, baked nan, and tandoori chicken. A young Indian man, busy tending stewpots and ovens according to Selim’s instructions, winked at Hawk.

“Ah, young man!” Mr. Selim smiled at him. “I have a message for you from your mother. I’m glad you’re here because she was rather frantic to find you before she left. She had to leave suddenly, you see, because a lady friend of hers came with a car to take her to Ottawa. A ‘once-in-a-lifetime chance,’ your good mother said. So she made me promise to find you and tell you to go on to your father’s house as planned, and stay there for the weekend. She’ll telephone him along the way and explain everything. I am so relieved that you made it easy for me!”

Hawk nodded. He felt worried about his mother, and nervous about her plans. Did this mean she was getting ready to take him to Ottawa with her? His dad had said he didn’t have to go, and Hawk hoped his dad would get his way. He was sad that his mother was leaving Riverdale, but he sure didn’t want to move to Ottawa with her.

“Bring your dad to eat here some time,” Mr. Selim said, shaking hands with Hawk and turning back to his kitchen supervision.

Hawk packed his clothes and schoolbooks into a small knapsack and hurried out of the restaurant, through the back lot, then down the long side street that connected with the main thoroughfare. There the traffic swarmed and buzzed, as if everyone, fed up with the long work week, was pushing into the weekend as fast as possible.

Hawk ran, heading straight for The Pocket and his father’s house, and got there before his dad arrived home. He sat breathless on the back steps, watching the busybody in the house behind the back fence shake her head and mumble to herself, looking quite upset that he appeared to be locked out of his father’s house and was just sitting idly there.

It wasn’t long before his father arrived, looking pensive. But he quickly brightened up when he saw his son sitting there on the steps. Hawk noticed that his father often had to pull himself out of his blue moods, to escape from whatever thoughts were preoccupying him, before he could focus on just being there with his son. But Hawk had also decided, some time before, that what really mattered was that his father always made the effort to connect with him. That was the good thing; that was what made Hawk happy.

Soon they had settled down to sandwiches and study. Hawk had to answer a lot of questions about what they had studied already:
What were the main divisions of the Ojibway-Cree Nation? What geographical areas did they occupy? What was the relation of their nation to the Iroquois Federation? How were young men initiated into the tribe? What were some of the main totem figures? What was the Medewin Medicine Society? What form did the sacred scrolls take?

Hawk answered all these questions in detail. He loved learning about the past, especially that of his people, and he wanted to please his father. He was also determined to give a good presentation to his class. When there was a pause in the questioning and Hawk saw how pleased Jim was with his new knowledge, he decided the time had come to talk about his problem with the Ferrets. “Dad, there’s something I’ve got to tell you about my new class,” he began.

The story was harder to get out than he had expected. He stumbled a few times, hesitated, and found himself close to tears. But his father’s strong eyes held him steady.

“Go ahead, son,” Jim said. “Just tell it like it is.”

Hawk told him about Charles and his messages and threats — the skull and crossbones, the Monday deadline — and how he didn’t know who else might be in the gang. Albert? Maybe even Panny? He put on a brave face, trying to conceal from his father how scared he was, but he knew he hadn’t fooled Jim for a moment.

“That little twerp really called you Pocahontas?” his father asked, with a disgusted smile. He shook his head. “Needs a good kick in the butt, that’s what he needs. But don’t worry about your friends, son. From what you’ve told me about them, you can be sure they’re not part of it! No, I’ll tell you exactly what’s going to happen. I’m going over to see Ms. Calloway before school on Monday. You’re going to tell Panny and Albert about this and go to Ms. Calloway with them. I suspect little Charlie-pants-bully is going to have some explaining to do to his teachers and his parents before that day is out!”

Hawk felt a rush of relief come over him at his father’s words. The rest of the evening they spent watching a movie,
Ivanhoe
, about the adventures of a Saxon knight in the Middle Ages. It had some great moments, and Hawk especially liked the scenes that showed the storming of a castle and a big tournament. His dad enjoyed the movie, too.

The next day they went to the zoo, and Hawk saw the lions and tigers and learned the Native names of some of the North American animals. Later, they played baseball in the backyard, with the old lady behind the fence glaring at them the whole time.

That night, Hawk was restless. He was eager to see Panny, Albert, and Martin the next day, but was glad that he hadn’t heard any bad news from them. Everything must still be on. He had explained to his father that he wanted to meet the boys early, fibbing that they were going to Chinatown for dim sum with Panny.

“Well, you can set the alarm and go,” Jim had said. “Just be back here in the afternoon. This will be a good chance for you to tell your friends about Charles and his nonsense. I know they’ll back you up one hundred percent.”

Hawk nodded. He felt badly that he couldn’t tell his father what was really happening — about the Rippers, about Panny’s idea of splitting Elroy from the gang and helping him, and about the gang connections between the Rippers and Mr. Big. But he knew that if he did tell him, Jim wouldn’t let him go.

He tossed and turned in his bed for a while, but finally dozed off. The next thing he knew, the alarm was blaring in his ear. He turned it off and crawled out of bed. It was morning and he was ready for his Sunday adventure.