Stealing the Dragon

Chapter Forty-seven

“Harold Yan,” said Cape.

Sally and One-eyed Dong nodded in unison.

“The mayoral candidate.”

“The same.”

“And Lin-the girl on the ship-she said Yan told her to steal this dragon’s heart?”

“No.” Sally frowned. “She just said she had to find him. Remember, she was delirious-she was bleeding and had a fever. She didn’t even tell me she had the stone-I found it on her when I dressed her wounds.”

Cape frowned. “If she was looking for Yan, why come to you?”

Sally shrugged. “She knew I was in San Francisco, and she was hurt. She couldn’t risk passing out while talking to Yan’s receptionist or falling down in the street. Someone could find the dragon’s heart and steal it.”

“But why does Harold Yan want the heart? It doesn’t make sense.”

“Of course it does,” said Dong.

Cape looked at him. “Why?”

“Isn’t that obvious?” asked Dong. “He’s about to enter a contest-an election. The heart would assure his victory.”

Cape looked at the elaborately carved piece of jade sitting on the desk in front of him.

“But you just told me the dragon’s heart was part of Triad history.”

“Right,” said Sally.

“Which means Yan is part of a Triad.”

“Or under their influence,” said Dong.

“C’mon.”

“My dear boy,” said Dong, his tone just this side of condescending. “You’d be surprised how many politicians are criminals.”

“I’ve been saying that for years,” said Cape. “Every time I pay my taxes. But a Triad?”

Dong huffed. “Do you have any doubt the Mafia has infiltrated American politics over the years?”

Cape chewed on that for a minute. Last year a local Congressman got caught taking bribes in exchange for his vote on funding for the new Bay Bridge project. The investigation found the construction company paying him off had mob connections.

“OK,” he said to Dong. “Say Yan has connections to a Triad, or, as you said, the Triad has some leverage over Yan.”

“If Yan gets elected, it gives the Triad a foothold in San Francisco.”

“And?”

“That would be very, very bad.”

“Very, very bad?”

Dong leaned forward. “There are tongs, street gangs, and a handful of criminals in this city that already have loose connections to the Triads.”

“Like Freddie Wang,” said Cape.

Dong frowned. “An unsavory example, but a good one.”

Dong loved being the center of attention, but Cape wanted to cut the lesson short. “You’re saying there’s no central organization here, no power base like Hong Kong.”

“Or Shanghai,” said Dong. “Or even New York.”

“So?”

Sally cut in. “Remember those people on the ship?’

Cape thought of the faces he’d seen on Treasure Island, the brutal stories Mitch had told him. “Yeah?”

“Multiply that times a thousand.”

“She’s right,” said Dong. “Right now smuggling people is a side venture for the Triads-they make more from heroin and guns, with less risk. But occasionally they’ll exploit a situation, pull together a temporary organization to turn a profit.”

“Hire a snakehead,” said Cape, remembering the lesson from Mitch.

Dong raised his eyebrows. “Precisely.”

“But if they had a permanent base here in San Francisco…” began Cape.

Sally finished his thought. “Things could get a lot worse.”

“It’s a disgusting business,” muttered Dong.

Cape looked at him again, wondering when the English sophisticate became the Incense Master. Maybe Dong preferred the heroin trade, considered it more gentlemanly. The man was charming on the surface, but Cape had no doubt Dong could molt like a snake at a moment’s notice. He turned his attention back to the ship and something that had been bothering him since the beginning.

“Why did Lin kill the crew?”

“They deserved to die,” replied Sally without hesitation. She breathed through her nose, then in a calmer voice said, “Lin was trained to shadow and kill men. Men who are killers-not women and children. Even in death, there is a code.”

Cape studied his friend, wondering where you drew the line after you’d crossed it so many times.

“The crew were sze kau,” said Sally. “Triad thugs. At school, we called them 49s.”

Cape remembered Beau’s description of the ship, the number drawn in blood.

“Everyone in a Triad has a name and a number,” explained Dong. “Based on tradition. The Dragon Head is 489, or sometimes 21, which is 4+8+9. Mine was 438. The foot soldiers are 49s.”

“Numerology is a big deal in China,” added Sally, shrugging. “It gets complicated.”

Cape looked at Sally, thinking complicated didn’t even begin to describe her upbringing. He rubbed his temples and tried to concentrate.

“But why would Yan take the risk now?” he asked.

“The heart,” replied Dong. “The election.”

“I don’t know,” said Sally, forever the skeptic.

“Why don’t we ask Lin?” suggested Cape.

Sally and Dong exchanged a look.

“What?”

“We’ve got a little problem,” said Sally. “Lin has disappeared.”