The Ying on Triad (20 page)

"Two hundred-" the words stuck in my throat.
Finally, I managed to gasp out, "for parrots?"

With a terse nod, he explained, "Then there are the
arms, and weapons, everything from infrared cameras to
missile guidance systems. They bring in and ship out anything that is in demand"

I whistled softly, "What about the government? The
FBI, or the local law?"

Joey arched an eyebrow and shook his head. "Any
member of the triad who reveals any aspect of the organization ends up like James Lu" He paused, a look of sadness in his eyes. "Jimmy was my cousin and a good son
to his parents. For some reason, he became involved with
the Ying On. Like all criminal elements, once you're in,
there's only one way out"

For several moments, I stared at Joey Soong, digesting
the information he had given me however impalpable it might be. "What you're saying is there is no proof any of
this is taking place?"

He nodded slowly. "I wish someone could come up
with hard evidence. I'd like nothing better than to see the
triad dismantled. The police have investigated, but have
gained nothing. Talk to your friend, Joe Ray. He'll tell
YOU."

I stiffened in surprise. "How do you know Joe Ray?"

Joey's eyes twinkled. "He called me and said you were
coming over. He also said," he added, his dark eyes now
laughing, "that if I didn't have you out within the hour, he
was sending a cruiser"

All I could do was shake my head. I rose and offered
him my hand. "I've made a fool of myself a lot, but this
takes the cake"

He laughed out loud. "Forget it"

I grew serious. "One other name. I didn't mention it
before, but now-well, what about Sam Bradford? Have
you ever heard the name Samuel Bradford in conjunction
with the Sing On triad?"

He shrugged. "Talk. Rumor"

"Nothing substantial, huh?"

"Nothing substantial."

As I drove away from Soong's Laundry, I glanced in
the rearview mirror and spotted a light green car pull out
and fall in behind me. I kept an eye on it until it turned off
a few blocks down Seventh Street. What I didn't notice
was the black one that turned off Walker onto Seventh and
fell in behind me.

I turned south on the expressway and drove aimlessly.
Five and a half days of pavement pounding and still nothing significant, nothing concrete. Of course, I knew now
what had happened. While Albert Hastings might have
been cavalier about the personal use of drugs, when he
learned Lieutenant Governor-elect Bradford was involved
in trafficking, he tried to dump him.

He must have had proof because he had given Landreth
a sheath of documents, apparently backups to the originals. That explained why Hastings' office had been ransacked two days after his death, and why Landreth was
murdered and his house torn apart just a few days ago.

But there was nothing concrete.

As much as I hated to admit it, I was at a dead-end.

I drove down to Zilker Park overlooking the green
waters of the Colorado. I sat staring at the water churning
downstream. Every lead had run up against a brick wall.
Given time, I knew I could find the proof I needed, but the
kicker was that I didn't have the time.

Proving a connection between Bradford and the smuggling was out of the question. Any evidence of the senator's involvement had been removed from Hastings'
office. Even if I found the alleged documentation, there
wasn't time to develop Bradford's complicity in Hastings'
murder.

No, I told myself, starting the pickup and heading
home. The only chance left is to find Red Tompkins and
hopefully the video. And I warned myself I had as much
chance of finding him as my old man had of giving up
Thunderbird wine.

At the first signal light, a black Ford pulled up beside
me, but I was too busy sorting through my thoughts to pay
attention.

Red Tompkins. Red Tompkins.

I mulled over the story of his disappearance, hoping for
inspiration, something I had missed, something I had
overlooked.

Kwockwing Funeral Home was part of the Ying On
triad. If Tompkins had proof that Packard was innocent,
then Bradford had to get rid of him. Why did Tompkins go
to that particular funeral home? Obviously because he
recognized the alleged assassin.

How did Bradford know Tompkins had the video? The
only persons the young man told of the incriminating tape
were Danny's Uncle Liam and whomever he had recognized from the funeral home.

Nodding slowly, I mumbled, "When Tompkins went
into the funeral home with word of the incriminating
tape, someone inside had to contact either Bradford or Lei Sun Huang for orders, and those orders were for the death
of Red Tompkins.

So, how did they manage to get rid of the body?

Suddenly, I knew. I slammed the heel of my hand against
my forehead. That has to be the answer. It's got to be!

Janice was waiting for me when I pulled into the drive.
She had her own key, and she was watching TV when I
opened the door. She glared at me. "Why didn't you call
this morning? I wanted to go with you."

"You wouldn't believe it," I replied, going into detail
about my old man.

When I finished, she asked, "So, you've got no idea
where he is, huh?"

"Nope" With a shrug, I said, "I know it sounds loony
on my part, but I was beginning to hope he'd changed."

She smiled sadly. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. He just reinforced what I'd always thought.
Right now, he could be anywhere. Dallas, San Antonio, or
who knows? He could ring the doorbell at any time."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, you bet"

At that moment, the doorbell rang. Janice and I
exchanged surprised looks. "No," she said, "it can't be"

I grunted. "Who knows? Nothing he does surprises me
any longer." I opened the door expecting to see a frail
bum in baggy clothes. Instead, I looked up into the chiseled features of Godzilla in a two-thousand-dollar Armani
suit. It was Huey, Danny O'Banion's driver/bodyguard/
intimidator.

"Mr. O'Banion wants you should see him" He stepped
aside, and I spotted Danny's sleek limo at the curb.

"Tony? Who is it?" she gasped when she saw Huey.

"You remember Huey from the barbecue. Danny wants
to see me" I winked at her. "Why don't you entertain
Huey while I see what Danny wants?"

She shot me a look filled with daggers, then craned her
neck to stare up at Huey. "Would-would you care to
come in, Mr. Huey?"

He shook his head and remained where he was.

I opened the car door and climbed in. "Danny."

He eyed me coolly, the ice in his eyes belying the faint
smile on his face. "Hello, Tony. What news do you have
for me?"

I settled back in the plush seat. "Not much, Danny."

"Still nothing?"

"Nothing firm. But I've got an idea"

He studied me. "Pretty late for ideas"

I ignored his sarcasm. "First, I can tell you who killed
Hastings. It was a hit man from the Ying On triad. Put up
to it by Sam Bradford who did not want Hastings to reveal
the extent of his involvement with the triad and its smuggling activities, especially the drug trafficking"

Danny nodded, "I'd heard the smuggling rumors"

"Apparently, everyone has, but no one has been able to
prove them"

He arched an eyebrow. "They ain't dummies, Tony"

I scooted around in the seat. "I can believe that. What
I've found, I had to dig out with a pick and shovel. There
isn't time to establish a chain of evidence linking Bradford
to Hastings' murder. I see only one chance" I paused and
shook my head once. "And not a good one at that, Danny."

He studied me a moment. When he spoke, his tone was
reflective. "I knew there wasn't much of a chance when
we lost the last appeal. At least this way, we're trying.
What do you have in mind?"

"Red Tompkins"

"Red Tompkins? Who's he?"

"He's the Red who talked to your Uncle Liam.
Tompkins mysteriously disappeared after entering the
Kwockwing Funeral Home ten years ago"

"So?"

Shaking my head, I said. "I've got to hand it to those
little Asian guys. They pull tricks that stagger the imagination"

Danny frowned, the freckles on his forehead bunching
together. "You've lost me"

I leaned forward. "The only explanation for Tompkins'
disappearance is that he was murdered in the funeral
home and buried with one of the deceased" I released a
deep breath and leaned back, staring at Danny.

After a moment, he said, "Are you sure, Tony? Real
sure?"

"No. But it's all that's left" I frowned at him. "That's
the only answer, Danny, the only possible answer."

He shook his head, doubt scribbled across his face.

"Listen, Danny. If we had time, we could find hard
proof. There's always evidence. And evidence doesn't lie.
Our problem is we don't have time" I paused and studied
my old friend. "I'm no Sherlock Holmes, but I feel good
about this. All I've got to do is identify those the funeral
home buried that day."

He frowned. "What if nobody was buried?"

A shiver ran up my spine. "Don't even suggest that,
Danny."

"Okay, so how do you go about finding out?"

I shrugged. "It's a piece of cake-obituaries, legal records. Don't worry; _1 can find out"

Leaning back in the seat, Danny nodded slowly.
"There's something else you better find out"

"Yeah? What?" I frowned.

He pointed through the front windshield. "See that
black Ford down there at the curb? They've been sitting
there watching you"

I stood at the curb as Danny drove away. My gaze shifted
to the black Ford down the street. Stepping off the curb I
headed for the parked car, and as soon as I did it pulled
away from the curb into a driveway, backed out, and disappeared in the opposite direction. A chill ran up my
spine.

"What did he want?"

Janice's voice at my side startled me. "Huh? Oh, he
was just wondering how the case was going."

She laid her hand on my arm. "It isn't going well, is it?"

I gave her a wry grin. "It could be better."

We lapsed into silence, staring down the deserted street
thoughtfully. Finally, I drew a deep breath. I looked down
at her, "Well, are you ready to play detective again?"

Her dark eyes twinkled. "What do you have in mind?"

Taking her elbow, I guided her back into my condo.
"We don't have much time. First, let's see how far back
the online archives of the Austin Daily Press go. Then I
want to talk to Lorene Hastings"

"Albert Hastings' widow? Why?"

Everything I have is theory, but if I find what I want in the archives, then she might provide me with the one final
answer I'm looking for. Then I'll know my theory is
right"

To my disappointment, the online archives for the
Austin newspaper went back only eight years. That meant
after I spoke with Lorene Hastings we would have to
make a trip to the library.

When Lorene Hastings answered my call, I explained
that I wanted permission to take a look at the executive
lounge on the top floor of the Hastings' Building.

Though perplexed, she agreed, "Certainly, but what on
earth for?"

Because of the taps on Landreth's phone, I was paranoid enough not to tell her over the phone that I wanted to
make sure there was a window in the lounge-a window
allowing the killer to escape. "I'm not certain, Mrs.
Hastings. Just an idea, and it might prove to be nothing.
Can you clear it for me?"

"Of course. Edmund Norville is the office manager. I'll
call him"

"Thanks. I'll stop by later this afternoon"

"What was that for?" Janice asked when I punched off.

"Do you remember the video Floyd Holloman told us
about?"

A puzzled frown wrinkled her forehead. "Do you mean
the one Red carried in his boot heel?"

"Yes. Do you remember too that when the secretary
entered the boardroom, she found only Hastings, dead?
Right?"