Authors: J.A. Johnstone

The Loner: Crossfire (12 page)

BOOK: The Loner: Crossfire

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Chapter 22

Frank took the man’s hand and shook it. “You know who I am.”

“Indeed I do,” Diamond Jack replied. “Frank Morgan. Sometimes known as The Drifter. You are a famous fighting man who hires out his gun.”

“You’re wrong about that,” Frank said bluntly as he let go of Diamond Jack’s hand. “I’ve been in plenty of fights, but never for money, only for causes I believed in or to protect folks who needed my help.”

“Then your reputation does not do you justice.”

Frank shrugged. “I stopped worrying about things like that a long time ago.”

“It takes a man with a great deal of serenity not to worry about what others think of him.”

“Just never seemed like it was worth the time and trouble to me.”

Diamond Jack turned to the big man he had called Ling Yuan. “Escort the young lady to one of the other rooms so Mr. Morgan and I can speak privately.”

Frank held up a hand as Ling Yuan started toward Connie, who flinched away from him. “She stays with me. I promised her I’d take care of her.”

“Your concern is touching but unnecessary,” Diamond Jack snapped. “She works for my enemy. Things must be said that she cannot hear.”

Frank needed to find out what the man knew about Conrad, so he said, “Do I have your word she won’t be harmed?”

“Of course,” Diamond Jack answered without hesitation. “I’ll go farther than that. Ling Yuan, defend this woman to your last breath until I release you from the task.”

The big hatchet man bowed to show his obedience.

Diamond Jack turned back to Frank. “Satisfied, Mr. Morgan?”

“I reckon I’ll have to be.”

Connie shook her head and backed away. “No, I ... I don’t trust these men!”

“They’re men of honor,” Frank told her, hoping he was right about that. “They’ll keep their word.”

Diamond Jack smiled at Connie. “I’ll have tea brought to you. You’ll soon see that I’m not the monster Dex Lannigan makes me out to be.”

Maybe not a monster, Frank thought, but utterly ruthless when he needed to be. Frank hadn’t forgotten how ready Ling Yuan had been to kill Connie in order to silence her, and Diamond Jack had hinted at the same thing.

Ling Yuan escorted a pale, trembling Connie out of the room, leaving Frank and Diamond Jack alone. The younger man held out a hand to indicate Frank should take the comfortable red leather armchair in front of the desk.

Frank took off his hat and sat down. Diamond Jack went behind the desk and settled himself in the big swivel chair. He steepled his fingers together and said, “I hope you’ll forgive me for the somewhat unorthodox manner in which I arranged this meeting between us, Mr. Morgan.”

Frank grunted. “I’ve got a hunch most things about you are a mite unorthodox, Mr. Wong.”

“Please, call me Diamond Jack, or just Jack. I suppose you’ve noticed that while I honor my ancestors, I don’t dress or speak like them.”

“No way for me to know about the honoring part, but yeah, you don’t exactly look like what I’d think of as a tong leader.”

“You believe I lead one of the tongs here in Chinatown ?”

“Don’t you?”

Diamond Jack smiled, revealing that jewel again. “Actually, yes. I am the leader of the Woo Sing tong, and some of the leaders of the other tongs look to me for advice and counsel since we have banded together to deal with the threat of a common enemy.”

“Dex Lannigan,” Frank said. The name was a statement, not a question.

“Indeed,” Diamond Jack murmured. “Lannigan has attempted on several occasions to expand his power and influence from the Barbary Coast into Chinatown. That is one more indication of how much things have changed. In previous decades, no white man, even the most arrogant and ambitious, would have dared to do such a thing. But a new century will soon be upon us. We face new challenges and must use new methods to combat them.” He gestured to indicate his suit and the desk. “I intend to run the tongs as a business ... a profitable business.”

“Of course, some of the old ways are still effective,” Frank commented. “Like using hatchet men to chop your enemies into little pieces.”

Diamond Jack threw his head back and laughed. “Well, some things never get old. Yes, our enemies still fear the hatchet men. They shall learn to fear even more.”

Frank leaned forward. “What about my son? I don’t see how he figures in this war of yours against Lannigan.”

“To be honest, I don’t, either. But clearly, Conrad Browning is very important to Lannigan. Otherwise he wouldn’t have attempted to have your son and the lawyer Turnbuckle killed as soon as Browning reached San Francisco. Lannigan knew he was coming and wanted to get rid of him.”

Frank could have told Diamond Jack what Lannigan’s interest in Conrad was, but first he wanted to find out what else the tong leader knew. “I reckon you keep pretty close tabs on what Lannigan does. That made you curious about Conrad.”

Diamond Jack nodded. “Indeed. My thinking was that if your son is so important to Lannigan, perhaps there is some way I could use him against my enemy.”

“So you started watching Conrad, too,” Frank guessed.

“Yes.” Diamond Jack chuckled. “San Francisco is a city of spies, Mr. Morgan. There are eyes and ears everywhere belonging to people who work for the various factions. The normal citizens go on about their business without any idea of the undercurrents actually guiding their lives. Some of my men, including Ling Yuan, whom you met earlier today, have been watching Conrad Browning for the past few days. In fact, Ling Yuan quite possibly saved his life several nights ago when Browning was involved in a fight at a tavern called Spanish Charley’s. The owner of the tavern, although your son probably didn’t know this at the time, is Dex Lannigan. This situation ultimately led to the perilous circumstances in which Browning currently finds himself.”

Frank leaned forward and asked tensely, “What perilous circumstances?”

“Last night, Lannigan set a trap for your son. My men did not become aware of it in time to prevent it. Browning was captured, and the man with him, a bodyguard hired by Claudius Turnbuckle, was killed.”

Frank nodded. He knew what had happened to Morelli. After talking to Turnbuckle, he had strongly suspected that Lannigan was involved. Diamond Jack had confirmed it. But the most important question was still waiting for an answer. “Where is Conrad now?”

“Being held prisoner on a ship called the
Nimbus
. It sails tonight, and Browning will be forced to become a member of the crew during its voyage to China and back. He’s been shanghaied, as the Americans call it.” The tong leader shrugged. “Either that, or the captain of the
Nimbus
has orders to kill Browning and dump his body at sea. It’s impossible to know which fate Lannigan has in mind for your son.”

“Why haven’t you sent your men in to rescue him?”

Diamond Jack’s expression hardened. “Taking over a ship is a different proposition from intervening in a tavern brawl or making an incursion into Lannigan’s saloon. I knew only a few bouncers would be working in the Golden Gate at this time of day. On board the
Nimbus
there’s an entire crew of extremely tough sailors. It’s almost certain I would lose some of my men, and they’re valuable to me. I refuse to run that risk simply to frustrate Lannigan’s plans and annoy him.” The tong leader leaned forward and placed his hands flat on the desk. “I want to know what’s going on here, Morgan. I want to know why your son is so important to Dex Lannigan. Perhaps then I can decide if he is that important to
me
.”

“So you brought me here to answer that question.”

Diamond Jack’s narrow shoulders rose and fell in another eloquent shrug. “Who better to know the affairs of the son than the father?”

Frank didn’t answer that. “How did you know I’m Conrad’s father?”

“I have my sources of information. There are spies everywhere, remember?”

Frank sensed he wasn’t going to get a straight answer out of the man. Diamond Jack wanted to protect his sources. Frank couldn’t blame him for that. The Woo Sing tong was locked in a war with Lannigan, and its leader would use every weapon at his disposal.

“What happens if I tell you what’s going on?”

“Then I decide whether or not to rescue your son,” Diamond Jack said.

“Based on how much of a blow that’ll deal to Lannigan.”

“Precisely.”

Frank nodded. The tong leader represented his best chance of getting Conrad off that ship before it sailed, so he was going to have to put his cards on the table.

“Three years ago, Lannigan made a deal with a woman named Pamela Tarleton. At least that’s what Claudius Turnbuckle and I believe.”

“Turnbuckle has a reputation as an astute lawyer,” Diamond Jack admitted. “But I have never heard of this Tarleton woman.”

“Consider yourself lucky. At one time she was supposed to marry my son, but all she wound up ever giving him was grief.”

For the next few minutes, Frank sketched in the details of Conrad’s relationship with Pamela and how she had set out to have her vengeance on him. When he reached the part about the hidden children, Diamond Jack arched an eyebrow.

“This woman sounds ... impressive.”

“If being downright evil impresses you, I reckon she fits the bill, all right,” Frank said. “Ever since Conrad found out about the twins, he’s been looking for them, and the trail led him here to San Francisco. It looks like she made an arrangement with Lannigan, since he’s been trying to kill Conrad. I want to get my hands on him so I can make him tell me if he knows where my grandchildren are ... unless those spies of yours might be able to shed any light on that.”

Diamond Jack shook his head. “My people cannot look for something they don’t even know exists, and this is the first I have heard about any missing children. You and your son have my sympathy, Mr. Morgan. You have suffered much at the hands of this Tarleton woman.”

“Conrad more than me, but I’d be holding a grudge against her, too, if she was still alive. I sure don’t want her winning, even though she’s dead.”

“Perhaps I can be of assistance—”

“You’ll help get Conrad off that boat?”

“It can be arranged,” Diamond Jack murmured, “but I must have something in return.”

“What do you want?” Frank asked bluntly.

“What happens to Lannigan if he knows where the children are hidden?”

“I reckon that’s up to him.”

Diamond Jack smiled. “I would like to see him wind up dead. My men might be able to get to him, but at a high cost. You and your son, on the other hand ...”

“We’re not members of your tong, so our lives aren’t worth as much to you.”

“Look at it however you will, Mr. Morgan, but it seems to me you and Browning have ample reason for wanting Dex Lannigan dead, as do I.”

“I told you, I’m not a hired gun,” Frank said. “But if you rescue Conrad from that ship, I think there’s a good chance the two of us will be taking the fight to Lannigan. What happens after that is up to fate.”

Diamond Jack laughed. “As a good Chinese, how can I not put my trust in fate? Very well, you have a deal. Before the
Nimbus
sails tonight, my men will take your son off the ship.”

“One more thing ... I’m going along.”

“Knowing your reputation, Mr. Morgan, I expected no less.”

Chapter 23

At least a year had dragged by since he’d regained consciousness the second time, Conrad thought. That was what it felt like, anyway.

But the ship on which he was being held prisoner still rocked gently at anchor, and since the broken-nosed captain had said they were sailing that night, Conrad knew only hours had passed, not months.

The first time he woke up in that hellhole he had only
thought
he hurt. The second time he was in more pain. Not just his head, but his entire body ached intolerably. A lesser man would have wanted to curl up and die.

Conrad lay there regaining some of his strength and trying to figure out a way to escape.

The second part of that challenge was going to be difficult, if not impossible. The crew member who had been careless when coming down to check on him earlier faced punishment lashes for his carelessness. Nobody wanted to be whipped. The next time that door in the bulkhead opened, there would be at least three men on the other side of it, probably more. They wouldn’t take chances with him again.

It was possible they wouldn’t unlock the door until after the ship had sailed. Realizing that was enough to goad him on his hands and knees again. He crawled around until he found one of the crates he had encountered earlier. Pulling himself onto it, he sat for a long time and rested from the effort.

Feeling stronger, he got to his feet and began exploring his prison. There might be another way out. A porthole, maybe. If he could find something like that and force it open ...

There weren’t any portholes. He felt his way all over the four walls of the chamber and found nothing except the door. The hinges were on the inside, but he had nothing with which to work on them. If he had a tool of some sort, he might work the pins out of the hinges and free the door.

With that thought in his mind, he stumbled through the darkness back to the crates and fell to his knees beside one of them. He ran his hands over the lid, searching for even the tiniest gap he might be able to force his fingers into. If he could pry one of the boards loose, he might be able to use a nail in it to push the pins up and out of the hinges. What he really needed was a crowbar to pry up a board ...

That thought made him collapse in grim laughter against the crate. If he had a crowbar, he could use it to force the door open and wouldn’t have to attack the hinges. He wasn’t thinking straight. The beatings he had endured, plus the lack of food and water, had taken quite a toll on him. A desperate thirst gripped him. The inside of his mouth felt like sandpaper, and his tongue seemed twice its normal size.

“Feeling sorry for yourself won’t do you any good, Conrad,” he rasped, speaking the words aloud. “Get back to work.”

Finally, on the fourth crate he checked, he found a slightly warped board on the edge of the lid. Gripping it with his fingers, he heaved up with all the strength he could muster, but the board didn’t budge. He rested a few moments and tried again, then again and again.

He lost track of time. He didn’t know if he’d been pulling on the board for fifteen minutes or three hours. He didn’t notice when the board finally shifted a little. He just reset his grip and heaved again.

The movement was unmistakable.

Conrad slumped against the crate as emotion washed over him. He was far from being free, but at least he had accomplished
something.

After a moment, he shook his head in the utter darkness and got back to work. With a better grip on the board and the other hand on the crate to brace himself, he put his back into the effort and pushed with his legs. Nails squealed as they slipped a little in their holes. Conrad grinned savagely and heaved again.

At last the board broke with a splintering of wood, and a piece of it came free in his hand. He lost his balance and wound up sitting down hard on his rear end. He sat there laughing until he remembered why he wanted the board in the first place. Two nails were still in place, protruding about an inch and a half from the bottom side of the board.

He climbed painfully to his feet. Having spent so much time in the dark, almost airless chamber he was able to find the door much easier, guided to it by some instinct. Working by feel, he wedged the point of one of the nails firmly against the bottom of the pin in the uppermost hinge and tried to force it up.

Putting pressure on the board wasn’t enough to loosen the pin, Conrad realized after a few minutes. He set the board down and took off one of his boots. When he had the nail back in place, he used the boot as a makeshift hammer and began striking blows against the board.

Hitting upward was awkward, but the jolts finally had an effect. Conrad thought the pin had moved. When he felt it to check, he found the top of the pin sticking up half an inch above the hinge. He tried to wiggle it out the rest of the way, but it wouldn’t come loose. He went back to using the nail, the board, and the boot.

A couple minutes later, the pin was in his hand. He clutched it in triumph.

There were still two hinges holding the door in place, he reminded himself. After drawing in a couple deep breaths, he went to work on the second one. In the back of his mind, he was still aware of the aches and pains in his body, but he didn’t pay much attention to them anymore.

His freedom beckoned, and beyond that, his children. Those goals were more than enough to make him forget about how badly he hurt.

Besides, when he got out of there he was going to deal out some pain of his own ... and that made him feel better.

The fog rolled in before the sun went down, cloaking the city in gloom. Once night fell, visibility shrank to almost zero. From an alley between two warehouses along the Embarcadero, Frank couldn’t see the ships docked at the other end of the long wharf.

The big hatchet man called Ling Yuan waited patiently next to him. Behind them were a dozen more of Diamond Jack’s men.

The tong leader had remained in his stronghold. As he had explained to Frank, he was an executive. He gave orders to warriors. He didn’t take up a hatchet himself.

That was all right with Frank. From what he had seen of Ling Yuan and the other hatchet men, they could handle themselves just fine in a fight. He wouldn’t have to worry about them, only about rescuing Conrad.

“The ship is supposed to sail in less than an hour,” Ling Yuan said quietly. “Before then, three Woo Sing soldiers will swim around to the other side and use grappling hooks and cords to get on board. While they cause a distraction, the rest of us will go up the gangplank.”

“Do you have any idea where my son is being held?”

Ling Yuan shook his head. “Somewhere belowdecks. Wong Duck’s agents have watched the ship all day. There has been no sign of Conrad Browning. But you and I will find him. The others will keep the crew busy while we search. We must be quick, so we can get away before the police come.”

“I figured your boss would have the police paid off to look the other way.”

Ling Yuan grunted disdainfully. “This is possible with some of the authorities, but an annoying number of them are honest.”

“You speak English really well.”

“A missionary lady from England taught me, while I was still in China. Before I came to this country.”

“Is she still over there teaching?”

Ling Yuan sighed. “No. A local warlord saw the missionary teachings as a challenge to his rule. He had warned the lady and the other missionaries to leave. When they didn’t his soldiers raped the women and killed them, then tortured all the men to death.”

“What did you do?” Frank asked.

“What could I do? I was only one man.” Ling Yuan looked off into the fog. “A month later the warlord was found in his fortress, choking on his own entrails. The heads of all his guards had been cut off. He died moments later.”

Frank looked at the big man and slowly nodded. “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.”

“Our men will be on board soon,” Ling Yuan said briskly. “Be ready.”

Frank was ready, all right. He had slipped a sixth bullet into his Colt, into the chamber he usually kept empty so the hammer could rest on it.

Ling Yuan had his arms crossed over his chest. Without looking at Frank, he said, “Since I came to this country, I have learned to read English. I have read stories about you, Mr. Morgan.”

“Dime novels?” Frank guessed.

“Yes. Do they exaggerate your exploits?”

“By a whole heap.”

“But you
are
a gunfighter?”

Frank sighed. “I never set out to be. But a fella pushed me until I didn’t have any choice but to draw on him. He thought he was fast, but I was faster. After him there was another man, and another, and almost before I knew what was happening, I had a reputation. I had to leave the place where I’d grown up”—his voice grew wistful for a second—“had to leave behind a girl. Since then I’ve never settled for very long in any one place. Tried a few times, but something always happened to make me think it was better to move on.”

“The life of a true warrior,” Ling Yuan said. “Trouble finds him, wherever he goes.”

Frank nodded. “That’s about the size of—”

A sudden shout from the ship, followed a split second later by the crack of a gun, interrupted him.

Ling Yuan pulled his hatchet from under his jacket. “We go!”

BOOK: The Loner: Crossfire

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