“The other gang members froze me out completely. That was all right. It wasn’t long before we moved to Brookline. The way they move around, none of the gang that I knew back then is left in Chinatown.”
Harry looked at me directly. He looked more stricken than relieved.
“That’s a part of my life I’m not proud of, Michael. I live with it every day. I’m only telling you so you’ll know I’m not guessing about the tong.”
He turned back to the window. I nudged his elbow.
“Harry, you remember what Jesus said about letting the one who is without sin cast the first stone?”
He looked around at me. I looked him in the eye when I said, “I’m in no position to cast any stones, brother.”
He waited in case I had more to tell him. Somehow I wasn’t up to filling in the details. Maybe another time. I thought, God grant there’d be another time.
24
By two in the afternoon, Harry and I were in a taxi, weaving our way through the streets of Toronto’s Chinatown. The driver found Columbia Street, and we walked from there. We spotted a grocery shop in the middle of a block that fit Xiao-Wen’s description.
Two Chinese boys, in the range of about sixteen to seventeen years, bracketed the doorway beside the grocery shop. I’d never have given them a second look, but now I noticed the lean, muscular builds and the eyes that scanned everyone and seemed to take in more than I’d expect from a couple of kids just hanging out.
I felt a slight nudge and barely heard Harry whisper, “That’s the place, Mike. From here on, it’s my show. We don’t panic, no matter what happens. Believe the bluff. We’ve got friends in the tong so powerful these bozos don’t dare to mess with us.”
We picked up the pace, like a couple of businessmen on a mission. Harry breezed past the two at the door without dignifying their existence with so much as a nod. I realized that there is a lot of implied power in looking like you know where you’re going.
Both of them turned around. One of them started to speak, but the other one grabbed his arm. I noticed he also touched a button beside the door.
The outside door led to an inside flight of stairs that ran beside the grocery store. At the top, there was a door with an opaque glass center and Chinese embossed figures in the glass. While the layout was similar to that of the brothel on Beach Street in Boston, the approach looked far more sterile and bright. It could have been the entryway to a good orthodontist.
We climbed the stairs without haste or hesitation, and Harry knocked on the door at the top.
A slender woman of about fifty opened the door. She wore a sheath dress of emerald silk that bespoke feminine allure and dignity at the same time. I got the impression that she was one of the few survivors of the trade who went on to rise as far as a woman could go in management.
Her bow and smile to Harry were gracious. There was a bit of stiffness that translated to chill when she saw my low faan face. Harry matched her graciousness in both bow and smile. I did my best to keep the shivers from rippling my clothes.
Harry spoke to her softly in Chinese, while I took in the silk-suited dude at the carved mahogany desk across the room. He was about the age and cut of the Ming Tree’s Dick Clark. If scorpions came with slick black hair and manicured fingernails, I’d have looked for his stinger.
His perusal of Harry seemed almost nonchalant, but there was a distinct toning of the senses when he spotted me.
It was also hard to ignore the bulky six-footer standing by the wall to the left of the desk. He had one of those muscle developments that prevented him from fully dropping his arms or bringing his knees together.
As nearly as I could follow, the woman introduced herself to Harry as Mrs. Woo Yo-Si. Harry became Wong On-Lee, which I think was actually his Chinese name. I was getting used to the Chinese custom of placing the family name first.
Harry introduced me as Peter Frathing, which was the name of one of our classmates at Harvard, who never, to the knowledge of either of us, said more than three words in an evening. I got the hint.
Mrs. Woo brought us over to the desk and graciously introduced us to Mr. Sun Yu-Ming. Everyone ignored the stack of muscles to Mr. Sun’s right, which suited me fine.
Mr. Sun addressed me first, in English.
“Mr. Frathing, we see so few Occidentals in our humble establishment. How did you happen to hear of us?”
I did some fast computing. I knew I was supposed to be an associate of Harry’s, but I didn’t have a clue as to what business we were supposed to be in. I tried to lead something neutral to avoid finessing my partner.
“On-Lee has told me many times that there is no beauty on earth to compare with Chinese beauty. He kindly invited me to accompany him on his business.”
The Chinese Batman flew to my rescue. “Actually, Mr. Frathing is too modest. He has been of immense assistance to our Boston family in helping us with the guidance of our children. We would be hard put to function without his wise advice in certain matters of their up-bringing, such as the one that brings us here. In that regard, I bring you greetings from our Mr. Liu.”
The name “Liu” cracked a polite smile of recognition from Mr. Sun and slightly flared his pencil moustache. He waved an invitation to two chairs in front of the desk.
“Ah, yes. Mr. Liu and I have had many mutually beneficial dealings. I trust he is well.”
“He is, and wishes the same for you. As a matter of fact, I’ve come in regard to your most recent dealing. I believe you received a flower from Mr. Liu by special delivery. It was a very delicate flower. Mr. Liu is very grateful that you would give it room in your house.”
“I was honored to be able to accommodate Mr. Liu. Is there a question about this particular flower?”
“Only the desire to see and learn what we can from this unique specimen. As I mentioned, Mr. Frathing is instrumental in guiding Mr. Liu’s children. If we could see this flower, we might learn something essential to furthering their education.”
I stood there with a knowing smile, totally clueless. I figured the flower was Mei-Li, but who these children might be escaped me entirely. It was like playing a tennis match when you can’t see the ball.
All I knew was that Mr. Sun was unflustered. He was also making no apparent move to produce Mei-Li. He played with a tiny piece of ornamental jade sculpture on his desk for a moment before speaking. I was moving from seriously concerned to seriously terrified that my white presence was shooting the plausibility out of Harry’s cover. Mr. Sun opened the center drawer of his desk to check something before picking up the telephone.
“I’m sure you appreciate what a delicate flower this is, Mr. Wong. I’m certain you’ll understand my checking carefully before exposing it to sunlight.”
Panic bubbled close to the surface, but we both held it in check. Harry must have been as sure as I was that the silk scorpion was dialing up Kip Liu, who would probably give the execution order on the spot.
He pressed enough digits for long distance, the first three of which were “617”-Boston area code-and then swung back in his chair. I counted the rings. By the third, my pulse hit one hundred and eighty. Each ring after that brought it down ten beats. When it hit six, he placed the receiver back in its cradle, and I breathed “Thank you, Lord”-not necessarily out loud.
The scorpion swung back to look at us. He was talking to Harry, but in my honor, he kept it in English.
“I’m afraid we’ll just have to wait. In the meantime, you’ll be my guests. May we bring you tea or whatever you desire?”
Harry was on his feet with his right hand in the breast pocket of his suitcoat. “Muscles” was beside him faster than I thought that much bulk could move. He eased off when Harry took out his wallet. Harry pulled out a hundred-dollar bill and a pen.
“That is not acceptable, Mr. Sun. My time is not limitless. I come representing a certain gentleman who requests a courtesy of your er pao. If your er pao wishes to deny or delay the courtesy, I’ll return that message to the gentleman.”