She glared at him with a look that spoke more contempt than fear. She didn’t say anything.
“Why did you make me climb four flights of stairs for nothing? Huh? Why didn’t you tell me she had left?”
Her answer was a variation on the “you didn’t ask” theme.
“Where did she go?”
“How would I know?”
“Let’s see if you can fly.”
The Doorman grabbed her from behind and put his hand over her mouth to stifle her shriek. Neal stepped in front of the window.
“Tell him to let her go,” he said.
“Stay out of it.”
“I’m paying the bill, I give the orders,” Neal answered.
“I’ll give you a refund. Now get out of the way.”
Neal slammed the window shut. He realized his knees were trembling and he knew that if Chin wanted to throw the woman out the window he could do it. Shit, he thought, if he wants to throw me out the window he can do it.
No real witty, intimidating threats came to him, so he settled for, “What could she tell us anyway?”
“Everything,” Chin said. “The old bag has probably been sitting downstairs for forty years. She sees everyone who goes up and everyone who comes down. If she hears someone fart, she knows what he ate for lunch.”
Chin stepped up to the woman and poked her in the chest. “Tell me.”
She broke into a long monologue.
“What man? What kind of man?” Chin asked.
The question inspired another soliloquy. When she was finished, Chin signaled the Doorman to release her. She sank to her knees on the floor and gasped for air, looking up at Neal with an expression of unmitigated hatred.
Chin wasn’t much friendlier when he said, “Okay, Mr. Gandhi. Old Woman Know-Nothing says your babe was here with a kweilo-a white guy-for just one day. Do you think this old hag wouldn’t notice that? Do you think that anybody on this whole block wouldn’t notice that? She says another guy came to visit both days. A Chinese. She says the three of them left together this morning, but she doesn’t know where they were going, and she had better be telling the truth.”
Neal plunked himself down on the windowsill. He was tired and angry and he didn’t like the smug look on Chin’s face.
“Okay,” Neal said, “so you got out of her that they were here, and now they’re not, and they left with a Chinese man. Hell, they should be easy to find now. All we have to do is find a Chinese man.”
Chin looked at him like he was thinking about the window again. Neal looked at the Doorman and pointed to the door. Chin nodded his okay and the Doorman left.
“And something else,” Neal said to Chin. “I don’t like the way you work. You’re on a job with me, there are certain things you don’t do-I don’t care if it’s your turf and your language. One of the biggest things you don’t do is you don’t rough up old women, or any women, or anybody unless you have to. And by ‘have to’ I mean only if we’re in actual, physical danger. Now if you can’t deal with that, fine-walk away right now and I’ll finish the job myself.”
The silence that followed was about as long as a “Gilligan’s Island” rerun.
“You don’t know how things work here,” Chin said quietly.
“I know how I work.”
“If you had talked to me that way in front of my crew, I would have had to kill you.”
Neal recognized a peace offering when he heard one. He had to give Chin back some face.
“I know. That’s why I sent him out of the room. To tell you the truth, I was pretty scared.” He gave Chin his most self-deprecating laugh.
Chin laughed back and the deal was done.
“Okay,” Chin said. “Your checkbook, your rules.”
“Okay. Now what?”
Chin thought for a second.
“Tea,” he said.
“Tea?”
“Helps you think.”
“Then tea it is. I need all the help I can get.”
Chin pulled a money roll out of his pants pocket, peeled a $10HK bill off, and handed it to the old woman.
“Deui mjyuh,” he said. (“I’m sorry.”)
She stuffed the bill inside her blouse and scowled at him.
“Cigarette!” she demanded.
He gave her the pack.
The teashop was more like an aviary. It seemed to Neal that every other customer in the place was carrying at least one cage with a bird in it.
“I feel so underdressed,” Neal said to Chin as they sat down at the small round table. The Doorman had gone in before them, secured the table, and left. The rest of the crew waited outside, patrolling the sidewalk and observing every customer who came in.
“Local color,” Chin answered. “I thought you might enjoy it.”
Neal looked around the large room. The customers were all men, mostly older, most of them accompanied by brightly colored songbirds in bamboo cages. Some of the cages looked like they cost a small fortune. They featured sloping rooflines with carved dragons painted in shiny colors. Some had swinging perches with gilded chains and ivory bars. A few of the really old men had their pets perched proudly on their wrists. The birds-and it seemed to Neal that were hundreds of them-sang to each other, every warbling tremolo inspiring a choral response. As the birds exchanged tunes, the old men chatted happily with each other, doubtless swapping bird anecdotes and heredities. The men seemed to know each other as well as the birds did, and all parties were enjoying their social outing. The teashop was a riot of sound and color, but Neal noticed that it wasn’t really noisy.
“Quite a place,” Neal said.
“They used to be all over Hong Kong,” Ben said, “but keeping birds is dying out with the old people. Now there are only a few Bird Teahouses.”
A waiter came over, wiped the table with a wet towel, and set out two handleless cups.
“What kind of tea do you want?” Chin asked Neal.
“You order for me,” answered Neal, who drank at least one cup of tea a year and was only vaguely aware that there was more than one kind.
“Let me see… you are tired but need to concentrate, so I think maybe a Chiu Chou tea.” He said to the waiter, “Ti’ kuan yin cha.”
“Houde.”
“I ordered a very strong Oolong tea. It will keep you awake. Alert.”
“That would be a refreshing change. So what do we do now?” “Give up.”
“Can’t.”
“Why not?”
Neal listened to the cacophony of birdsong, chatter, and rattling cups for few moments before he answered.
“There are other people looking for her and her friend. I think the same people might have reason to be looking for me. These other people do not have kind intentions-they’ll kill her, her friend, and me if they have to. I don’t know why. I do know that I have to find her, warn her, and find out what this is all about before I can get back to a normal life.”
A normal life. Right.
“How did you get involved in this?”
Neal shook his head.
Chin tried again. “Mark told me it’s a drug thing.”
“I don’t think so.”
The waiter came back and set a pot of tea on the table. Chin took the lid off, sniffed the pot, and put the lid back on. He filled Neal’s cup and then his own.
Neal sipped the tea. It was strong all right, slightly smoky and bitter. But it felt good going down, warm and soothing. It occured to him that he hadn’t really stopped moving since the bullet had buzzed past his head, that he was wandering in the dark without a plan, moving for the sake of motion, making assumptions based on himself, not on the subject.
He took a long draught of the tea. So what do you know? he asked himself. You know that Li Lan and Pendleton have skipped out on you again. Back up. Skipped out on you? Why do you think you have anything to do with it? Maybe they already know about the danger and that’s what they’re running from. Running? Maybe they’re not running at all. Maybe they came to Hong Kong and simply changed living quarters. The one-room apartment was small even for lovers.
So how do you find them? They’ve taken off in the most densely populated area of the most densely populated city in the world, so how do you find them?