The persistent chirp of my pager cut through my dreams like a chain-saw.
Gail’s voice was slurred and startled. “What the hell’s that? A smoke alarm?”
I kicked off the covers, acutely conscious of the nagging bleating, and of how it might penetrate to the adjoining apartments. Three hours earlier, all talked out, I’d finally yielded to Gail’s invitation to join her in bed and had been enjoying the first deep sleep I’d had in weeks.
“It’s Frazier’s damn beeper. His way and Flynn’s of keeping in touch.”
Gail laughed as I tore through my pants, trying to locate my belt in its folds. “How intimate. Compliment them on their timing.”
I finally found it, killed the sound, and turned on the light to read its display. “You got a phone?” I asked irritably.
I dialed the number on the pager.
“Where are you?” came Frazier’s voice, answering, I was pretty sure, from a mobile phone.
“South Royalton.”
“You better get up to Burlington. There’s been a shooting. Three dead. A drive-by of a residence by two cars with automatic weapons. They’ve got one guy in custody. It’s an Asian-on-Asian deal. I’m trying to keep the shooter isolated till you get here, but the locals would like the jurisdictional details cleared up fast.”
“I’ll be there as quick as I can.”
I stood beside Frazier and a lieutenant from the Burlington police, looking through the one-way glass at a young Asian male, pacing like a caged cat from one side of the interrogation room to the other. He had long, expensively cut hair, an assortment of gold jewelry, designer clothes, and was sweating profusely. He might have been seventeen years old, stretching it.
“What do you have on him?” I asked of the lieutenant.
“Name’s Vinh Thanh Chau-sixteen. No priors so far. We’re still checking.”
“I called Montreal,” Frazier added. “He’s one of a Vietnamese gang that works mostly for Da Wang. He’s been nailed for petty theft, pimping, attempted extortion-apparently not very good at his job.”
“Ever do time?”
Frazier shook his head. “Too young.”
The lieutenant gave the Bureau man-a “feebie” to municipal cops-a sour look for upstaging him, and resumed his narrative. “He was in the second car. It smashed up about half a mile from the shooting-missed a curve. The others got away. We found three automatic weapons in the car and two handguns.”
“A Glock?”
“Nope-Beretta and a Colt-nine-millimeter and thirty-eight special.”
“He say anything?”
The sour look returned. “I wouldn’t know.”
I turned and faced him. “Walt tell you about the task force?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, it’s got more local people on it than not, so we’ll make sure the municipal cops aren’t left out in the cold. I did want first crack at this guy, but if it looks like you can throw a bigger book at him than we can, he’s all yours. We won’t make any deals without your agreement, and whatever we learn, you learn. Fair enough?”
The lieutenant didn’t answer directly, no doubt knowing my background, and considering me a traitor to local autonomy. “Witness to the crash said he came out of the back seat. Survivors at the scene said that’s where a lot of the firepower came from, too. He likes to be called ‘Chewy.’”
“Do we know if anyone died from his shots specifically?”
“Hard to tell.”
“He been Mirandized?”
“Yeah.”
I patted his shoulder as I walked toward the door leading to the interrogation room. “Okay-thanks.”
Vinh Thanh Chau stopped his prowling when I crossed the threshold. He struck a pose, feet apart, hands on his hips, and gave me a look of wilting superiority.
I gazed at him for a moment. “Chewy? That your name?”
“Yeah, man.”
“Mine’s Gunther. I’m a Deputy U.S. MarshaI. Have a seat.”
Vinh’s eyes narrowed slightly, obviously surprised at the title. I settled into one of the chairs at the room’s central table.
The teenager stood uncertainly for a moment, and then strutted over to a chair opposite mine, taking his time.
I waited patiently before telling him, “Guess you got yourself into some trouble. Must be a little scary, boy your age.”
His face darkened with anger. “I’m not scared. You grow up fast in the streets. I done stuff you can’t even dream about.”
“Stuff you won’t do again for a long, long time.”
He watched me silently, digesting my words.
“You know the difference between a U.S. Marshal and a local cop?”
He lifted his chin slightly. “Sure, I do.”
“We enforce federal laws, and we do it with a lot more freedom than the locals. And once we nail somebody, we send him to a federal prison, like Leavenworth.”
“I can take that,” he said, but I sensed a lack of wind in his sails.
I got to my feet. “Good. Then I guess I can go home. You want to be the butt-fucked toy of some hairy con for the next thirty years, more power to you.”
I moved toward the door. Vinh half rose in his seat, his eyes wide with surprise and a twinge of the fear I’d been hoping for. “Wait-that’s it?”
I looked over my shoulder. “What do you mean?”
“That’s all you’re going to ask me?”
“Sure. What did you think?”
“You make a deal. You’re supposed to deal.”
I turned around completely to face him, my face incredulous. “A deal? For what? You were the triggerman in a fatal drive-by shooting. People saw you do it-we already have their statements. What can a kid like you offer me?”
His voice rose a few notes. “Plenty. I know plenty.”
I sighed and looked at my watch. “Chewy, you’re a street punk down on his luck. You’ve grabbed a purse or two, maybe thrown a brick through a window, tried to sell the services of some thirteen-year-old girl. You’ve got nothing to offer me.”
“I work for Da Wang in Montreal. He’s like Al Capone-the biggest crook in the city. I know stuff he’s done.”
I laughed at him. “Chewy-you pulling my chain here?”
He was on his feet now, pleading. “No. I’m not shitting you. I got the goods on him, man.”
I leaned forward slightly at the waist and said slowly and distinctly. “He’s in Canada, Chewy. I don’t give a fuck.”
He came around from behind the table, all cool gone by now. “What do you need? I know other stuff, too. I been around. I can be useful.”
I made a show of hesitating, as if trying to make up my mind. Finally, I shook my head. “I don’t see it. You’ve never even been in this country before. What could you know that would interest me?”
His eyes grew round with astonishment. “Shit, man-there’s how I got here. I entered illegally. I can tell you how I did it.”
I smiled. “It’s an unguarded border, for Christ’s sake.”
“No. No. It’s organized. Da Wang does it all the time. He’s got a system for getting lots of people across. The Border Patrol doesn’t know anything about it.”
I waved my hand dismissively. “They know more than you think. They know Da Wang’s been losing his shirt lately to a guy named Sonny-the one who whacked Da Wang’s snakehead not long ago.”
Vinh was almost quivering with excitement. “But that’s why I’m here. Don’t you see? We were ordered across the border to mess up Sonny’s business. Hit him on his home base-make him lose face big time.”
“You were ordered to blow holes in a building in the middle of the night? Why didn’t you throw toilet paper on the lawn, too? That would’ve really pissed him off.”
Vinh pounded the table next to him in anger. “No. Shit, man, don’t you get it? We fucked up a little is all. This is going to be like a war. We’re like soldiers, man.”
I shook my head and scratched the back of my neck, reluctantly returning to the table. “I don’t know, Chewy. Sounds a little far out. You better take me through it.”
Spinney pulled his cardboard cup of hot soup out of the Burlington Police Department’s vending machine and sat next to me on the battered, coffee-stained sofa in a corner of the officers’ day room. The first paling of dawn was starting to light the windows.