White Tiger

CHAPTER 7

Tiburon/San Francisco, California

The electronic gates swung open as Chee Wei’s Crown Vic neared the end of the driveway that led to James Lin’s residence, a sprawling Spanish-style mansion in the exclusive Marin County community called Tiburon. The taciturn guard at the shack at the corner waved them through. Ryker watched the sprawling building recede in his side mirror as he analyzed how he felt about that brief and unsatisfying interview. Lin had given nothing away, nothing at all. They might as well have been talking about the weather as about his son’s death. Did Lin have emotions? Or did he just keep them buried so deeply that nothing showed on the surface, except his very obvious contempt for the police, and for Ryker in particular?

“What did you think about that old guy?” Chee Wei said, zooming through the open gates and onto the road. “He gave me the creeps. Real spooky.”

“Pull over onto the next street,” Ryker said. Chee Wei gave him a funny look but did as he was told. There was another road perhaps two hundred yards down from the entrance to James Lin’s house. Chee Wei pulled the Crown Vic onto the road and turned it around so its grille pointed back the way they had come. The Ford’s Police Interceptor engine purred while Ryker sifted his thoughts.

“What’s up?” Chee Wei asked. “Was it that war and peace thing? Things were a little tense, I thought maybe you forgot to ask him.”

Ryker shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. The old guy. Lin called him his manservant. What does that mean? In Chinese terms.”

Chee Wei shrugged. “Same as it does here. Except, maybe, it’s a role rather than just a job. These things are traditional. I bet he’s worked for Lin and his family all his life.”

Ryker unwrapped a mint and popped it into his mouth. With this new information in mind he revised the conversation-and suddenly the manservant’s noisy interruptions made perfect sense. “They were a double act,” he said, pleased that he’d figured it out so quickly. “The manservant distracted us so Lin wouldn’t betray himself.”

“Man, you sound just like my sister. She lies in bed all day watching soaps then talks all that ‘betrayed himself’ stuff. So what’s the big deal? The merry widow called him before we got here. Lin knew his son was dead. He’s not gonna want to go all misty eyed over that, not in front of a pair of cops, especially when one of them is white.”

Ryker found himself agreeing with Chee Wei, but only to an extent. The beats were all wrong. Lin had taken the news of his son’s death remarkably well. Ryker had admired his self control; he wasn’t sure if he could be so outwardly calm if someone dropped by unannounced and told him something had happened to his daughter, God forbid. But then Ryker had revealed the method of Lin Dan’s death. That had sparked off the manservant’s tirade, taking their eyes from Lin. Very clever. And the second time, when Chee Wei had intervened? They’d been talking about the woman at the hotel, who might have been Lin Dan’s companion, or his murderer, or both.

“Bogey at twelve o’clock!” Chee Wei said, snapping Ryker’s train of thought.

Ryker looked up just in time to see a black sedan dart past, heading down the street that led from Lin’s house. Ryker recognized the stylish Mercedes S500 as the one that had been parked in Lin’s driveway.

“That was one of Lin’s rides. You know, I’ve always wanted to say this-follow that car!” Ryker said.

Chee Wei snorted and dropped the Crown Vic into gear and accelerated toward the intersection. He pulled out after the Mercedes without really bothering to check for oncoming traffic. Lucky for him, there was none.

“Don’t get too close,” Ryker said.

Chee Wei rolled his eyes. “What, you think I forgot all about this stuff? You sure that’s one of Lin’s cars?”

“You didn’t check out the cars when we were going into the house?”

Chee Wei shrugged. “A Lamborghini I’d look at-a Mercedes? Who cares?” He didn’t close on the Mercedes, instead he sat well back and allowed other cars to change lanes and overtake. The skies had turned dark, angry weather coming in off the ocean following the earlier rain shower. Ryker wished he’d brought a coat.

They followed the Mercedes across the Golden Gate Bridge.

Chee Wei said, “Looks like we’re heading back to the Mandarin Oriental. Maybe they’re gonna take a look at the murder scene?”

Ryker didn’t dismiss that possibility but he was pretty sure their destination was Chinatown. The Mercedes kept in lane, confirming his suspicion. Chee Wei grunted. The GPS slowly scrolled the streets, bright yellow on a lemon background. The red dot that represented the hotel slipped past on their right. Other points of interest coming up were the Cable Car Barn amp; Museum and the Transamerica Pyramid, which oddly enough he hadn’t ever visited in all the years he’d lived here.

The Mercedes seized his attention. A head in the back seat had turned round and was staring at them from three car lengths ahead.

“We’ve been made,” Chee Wei said.

“Maybe he’s just admiring the car.” Ryker glanced to his right and watched a stunning blonde in a black jacket and tight skirt walking her poodle.

The Mercedes powered ahead, stretching the distance between them. Chee Wei didn’t give chase, although his fingers tapping on the wheel suggested he was itching to burn rubber. “Now what?” he said.

Ryker’s reply was denied by his cell phone’s sonar ping ring tone. He recognized the displayed number and accepted the incoming call only with reluctance. He didn’t like Bob Jericho, not one bit, and Jericho didn’t much like him. He supposed that was a normal relationship between any working cop and their boss. “What can I do for you, captain?”

“It’s almost eleven and I’m only just hearing about James Lin now. You should have called me, damn it. Where are you? You haven’t spoken to Lin yet, have you?”

“Captain, something like this, we can’t sit on our butts. We visited the widow first. We think she was busted up in a quiet Chinese kind of way.”

Chee Wei rolled his eyes.

“Answer my question, Ryker.”

“We’ve spoken to James Lin, yes.”

He heard Jericho sucking in a deep breath. “What did you say to him?”

“We informed him of his son’s death. We offered condolences, of course. Captain, we’re in the middle of something, can I call you back?”

“What did you say to him? Tell me what you said.”

“Captain, relax. We told him his son had been murdered, and we’re looking for a woman who was probably with Danny Lin last night. Forensics are on it. Lin seemed satisfied with our response.”

“What woman?”

“Not his wife. Girlfriend, mistress, hooker, take your pick. She left behind a diamond earring, very expensive, could be designer. We’re heading into Chinatown right now, following up a possible line of inquiry.”

“You should have come to me first. You know that.”

Chee Wei changed lanes and the Mercedes was three hundred yards ahead, turning left through a red light and setting off a chorus of horns. Chee Wei immediately took the next left and glided down a street with lighter traffic.

Ryker said, “I wish you’d trust me not to embarrass the department, captain. What happened before with Danny Lin, that’s water under the bridge. This is entirely different. We’ve talked to Lin and broken the bad news and we shouldn’t have to bother him again. I expect he’ll want regular updates. That’s where you come in.” He winced when he blurted out that last part.

“What the hell does that mean, detective sergeant?”

“Just what I said.”

Ryker imagined Jericho hunched over his desk, beads of sweat dripping off his nose, dark stains growing under his armpits. This would go all the way up to the commissioner and all the way back down to Jericho. Ryker derived malicious satisfaction from the situation.

“All right,” Jericho said. “Report your progress every hour. That’s every hour, you got that?”

Chee Wei made a hard right turn that made Ryker lean in his seat. There was no sign of the Mercedes.

“Got it, captain. Over and out.” Ryker ended the call and made a jerk off motion with his hand. Chee Wei grinned. They cruised through two intersections, slowing at each to look both ways. As they passed a third Ryker caught a glimpse of the Mercedes’ tail vanishing around a corner. The Crown Vic leapt ahead. They approached a set of traffic lights. Ryker expected them to turn red but they held long enough for them to proceed without killing a whole bunch of civilians and making the six o’clock news.

At the next intersection they were fractionally ahead of the Benz, two streets down and running parallel. Chee Wei whistled through his teeth as he spun the wheel and took them on an intercept course. He swerved around a delivery truck, slowed to allow a sedan to park at a meter, then he was off again. The Mercedes flashed past up ahead. A Chinese woman waiting to cross the street stared at Ryker, who judged her age at somewhere around two hundred and three. Stores and restaurants garishly proclaimed their identities in Chinese. Ryker considered making a wok the dog joke but thought better of it while Chee Wei was in combat pilot mode.

Chee Wei took a left, cruised down a narrowing street, squeezed by a delivery van and turned right into an alley, narrowly missing a man who had to take a long step to avoid a broken pelvis. He shook his fist in Ryker’s side mirror. The Crown Vic splashed through puddles, sending spray against the walls on either side. White sheets hung from washing lines above. Chee Wei hit the brakes and stopped just after a narrow alleyway that gave them a momentary glimpse of the back of a nondescript building, and the black Benz whose occupants were climbing out, the three Chinese and the Caucasian, a powerfully built man with a goatee and a crew cut. Chee Wei unlocked his belt, opened his door and climbed out. Ryker climbed out and joined him.

“They went inside,” Chee Wei said over his shoulder. “They look like rented apartments. Wonder who owns them? Might be able to tell us who lives there.”

Ryker said, “Forget it, Jake. It’s Chinatown.” They both chuckled at the old joke. But there was a serious side to the saying, too. Trying to track down a Chinese landlord would prove nigh on impossible, Ryker knew, and for the landlord to be willing or able to supply the names of his tenants was even less likely. With apartments like these rent was paid in cash and no questions asked. Non-payment would result in immediate eviction, no argument accepted.

“So what do we do?” Chee Wei said. “Just wait here?”

“Unless you’ve got any better suggestions.” Ryker certainly didn’t. For all he knew, the Caucasian and the three Chinese were visiting a brothel.

A Chinese girl with blue highlights in her hair and wearing a black leather jacket and knee-length boots stepped out of a doorway near the corner of the building and walked quickly away, her head bowed as she cradled a cell phone to her ear.

“She’s hot,” Chee Wei said. “Why isn’t she calling my number?”

Ryker smiled but dismissed the girl from his thoughts, until she turned to look back toward the building and he saw the fear etched in her young-old face as she spoke rapidly into her cell phone. Her gaze flicked from the building onto Ryker and Chee Wei. She stared at them blankly for long seconds before she turned away and broke into a run.

“Got her,” Chee Wei said, running back up the alley like an Olympic sprinter. Ryker kept his eyes on the Mercedes and the building. And before he knew it, his thoughts turned to Valerie Lin. He wondered idly why he even bothered thinking of her; there was no chance that she would even deign to give him the time of day under normal circumstances. And he was convinced the last thing on her mind would be fucking the horny white guy who’d dropped by to tell her that her husband was dead.

Chee Wei reappeared with the blue-haired girl, who stopped struggling and shouting in Chinese when he shoved his badge into her face. Her eyes crossed in almost comical surprise. He had her cell phone. Ryker crossed the alleyway and repositioned himself so he could still watch the Mercedes, while listening to what they were saying.

“Talk English! Where do you think you are, a shit boat in Hong Kong harbor?”

“Big-shot cop!” she snarled back. “So what are you, third, fourth-generation cocksucker?” She threw Ryker a distasteful look. “Working for a white. You wash his laundry too?”

Chee Wei slapped her. She put a hand to her cheek and glared at him. “Who were you calling?” he demanded. She tried to snatch the phone out of his hand but he was too fast for her, jerking it away again and again, enjoying her rising anger. “Are you deaf? I said, who were you calling?”

“My girlfriend. She eats me out better than you ever could. Give me back my phone, I paid good money for it, it’s mine.”

“What’s your name?” Ryker said.

She stared at him, weighing him up. “Suzy.”

He didn’t believe her, but that didn’t matter. “Tell us what we want to know and you can leave, Suzy. We’re not busting you. We just want to know why these guys are here.”

“How should I know?” She tried to pull away from Chee Wei but he had a firm grip on her leather jacket. “Let me go. I’ve done nothing wrong.”

Ryker held out his hand and Chee Wei gave him the phone. It was a different make from his but the menus were the same. He checked the last outgoing call. “Who’s going to answer if I press the button?”

“I called wrong number. They told me to fuck off, never call again.”

“You should be on television,” Chee Wei said. He let go of her and held up his hands, palms outward. “I didn’t want you to run away, that’s all.”

She rubbed her shoulder. “Big-shot cop. You like to treat girls rough? Hit them around?”

“Maybe I don’t like being called a cocksucker.”

Ryker offered her the phone. She hesitated, as if wary he’d play the same game as Chee Wei, but he let her take it. She slipped it into her purse. “Who did you call?” he asked.

He gave her time to consider the question. “They’re looking for a friend. She used to come here.”

“You tried to warn her?”

“She didn’t answer. I left a message.”

“You rent one of these apartments?” Chee Wei asked.

“No….”

“Then who does?”

“Just a couple of guys I know. We party sometimes.”

Ryker would have pressed her for more information but at that moment the big guy and the three Chinese emerged from the building and climbed back into the Mercedes. Ryker was torn between running for the car and following them, and going into the building to talk to whoever might be in there. He chose the latter, following his gut instinct that there was more to this than Suzy was prepared to reveal.

“They’ve gone,” he said. “You can go back inside now.”

“I got other things to do right now. Maybe later.”

Ryker took her gently by the arm and walked her to the building. She resisted at first, then gave in, realizing it wouldn’t do any good. Chee Wei followed them, grinning. The Mercedes was long gone. Suzy led the way along a short, dark hallway. Steps led up to the second floor. A door lay ajar. Lights were on inside. Suzy hesitated, then took a deep breath and called out, “Roger? You okay?”

“Who’s there?” a high-pitched voice said from inside the apartment. The door opened and a middle aged man with wavy blond hair stared blankly at Ryker and Chee Wei. He wore a beige silk shirt and held a bloody handkerchief to his nose. “Suzy, darling. We were wondering where you’d got to. One moment you were here…who are these friends of yours?”

“Cops,” Suzy said.

“You went and fetched the cavalry! How wonderful, even if it is too late. The Indians have withdrawn back to their reservation. We’re still alive, thank God. They didn’t even scalp us.”

Ryker showed his badge. “Detective Sergeant Ryker, S.F.P.D. This is Detective Fong. The four men who just left. Who are they, and what did they want?”

A crash of breaking glass came from inside. Ryker drew his Glock and pushed past Roger who spluttered in protest but couldn’t do or say anything to stop Ryker before he entered the apartment’s living room, which had been converted into a film set. Lights and reflectors surrounded a king-size bed. There were two digital cameras, one lying on the floor with its thin tripod legs bent. The other had been thrown onto the bed alongside a Chinese girl with pink highlights in her hair, who covered herself with a sheet and sobbed quietly, her face turned away from them. Electrical cables covered the floor. Every socket in the room was in use, as were the pendant light fittings whose bulbs had been removed to allow extension cables to hang down. A very suntanned man who could be anywhere from fifty to sixty-five years of age knelt on the floor, tears running down his face as he gingerly picked up broken pieces of glass from a lamp that had evidently toppled.

“For goodness sake Vincent, leave that alone, you’ll only hurt yourself,” Roger said. He stepped over cables and helped the suntanned man, Vincent, to stand. “These gentlemen are police officers.”

“Bloody hell, that’s what I call a quick response,” Vincent said. His accent was either Australian or New Zealander, Ryker couldn’t tell which.

“Now you’ve cut your hand, stupid,” Roger said. He applied his handkerchief to the wound. Ryker supposed it didn’t matter that the handkerchief was already stained with blood; he guessed that Roger and Vincent exchanged fluids on a regular basis. He put his gun away.

Chee Wei turned to look at Suzy, who folded her arms, leaned back against the door frame and jutted her chin out as if daring him to question what she did here. Ryker could imagine what the movie’s title might be. Blue On Pink. Or maybe Pink On Blue. Or maybe, hell, Pink In Blue. Thinking about it made his eyes water.

“We’re not Hollywood, God knows,” Roger said, “but we do our best.”

“So,” Vincent said, sitting down and holding his hand. “What are you going to do about those bastards? Walking in here as if they own the place. Smashing our stuff. Knocking poor Roger around. Aren’t you going to arrest them?”

“They were looking for someone,” Ryker said. “I want to know who.”

The pink-haired girl in the bed sat up, revealing creamy white breasts topped with dark nipples the size of silver dollars. The entire left side of her face was livid, as if she’d been slapped hard, or punched. She directed a stream of angry words at Suzy, who bowed her head and looked away. Ryker recalled passing a bathroom on the way in. Maybe Suzy had hid in there when the unexpected guests arrived, and ran out the door when they weren’t looking. Whatever, the pink-haired girl wasn’t pleased with her, and he didn’t need Chee Wei to translate.

“Cover yourself up, there’s a good girl,” Roger said. She scowled at him and pulled the sheet higher. “They thought she was Juicy Lucy, poor dear,” Roger told Ryker. “They became very upset when I told them she wasn’t here. Fortunately they believed me. It could have been much worse, I suppose.”

“Who,” Ryker said, feeling as if he’d slipped into a surreal dimension, “is Juicy Lucy?”

“Oops.” Roger covered his mouth with his hand, and giggled. “It’s just our little nickname. She’s a sweet girl really. Her real name is…and I’m not sneezing, before you say anything…Xiaohui. There, I think I’ve pronounced it correctly. Suzy darling, how did I do?”

Suzy looked anything but pleased. “What do you want with her?” Suzy asked Ryker. “Why did they come looking for her?” She sat down on the bed and put her arm around the pink-haired girl, who at first tried to shrug her off, but then allowed the contact.

“That’s a very good question,” Roger said. “Why indeed?”

“Get me a beer, Roj, will you?” Vincent said. “My hand’s killing me.”

“He says he was in the Australian S.A.S.,” Roger whispered to Ryker on his way to the adjoining kitchen. “Girl Guides, more like.”

“I heard that,” Vincent called after him. “You only had to say the word, Roj. I would have taken them out. All of them.”

“To dinner?” Roger called from the kitchen. He opened the fridge, took out a beer bottle and popped the cap with a practiced downward stroke, spilling not a single drop.

Suzy spoke softly to the pink-haired girl in Chinese and kissed her on the cheek. It took Ryker all his will power to tear his gaze away from them. “Do you know where this Xiaohui is?” he said, rolling his tongue around the unfamiliar syllables. “Did you tell them?”

“I’m afraid our Juicy Lucy has gone up in the world,” Roger said, passing the beer bottle to Vincent. “We don’t see much of her any more. Just a couple of months ago she lay on that very bed with her legs wide open. What was the name of that film, Vincent?”

“I dunno,” Vincent said. He swallowed a mouthful of beer. “But she was a right good little actress. Then she met some bloke. Must have had money. Suddenly two hundred and fifty dollars is chicken feed to her. She turned down the next job too, and it was a sequel. They always do well.”

“At least she wasn’t bitchy about it or anything,” Roger added. He delicately touched his nose and inspected his finger. “We told Arnold bloody Schwarzenegger he should ask someone at the Snake Bite if they knew where she was. She used to work there, as a dancer.”

Ryker knew the bar, a waterfront dive popular with tourists looking for a good time.

“Forget the dolly bird, what are you going to do about this?” Vincent said, using his beer bottle as a pointer to indicate the fallen camera and broken light. Almost as an afterthought he also indicated the pink-haired girl. “Can’t let the buggers get away with it. Why don’t you get on the blower and call in a SWAT team or something? Put a cap up their arses. Serve them bloody well right.”

“All right. But you can’t touch anything before forensics photographs the evidence. And the investigators will want to talk to all the witnesses.” Roger and Vincent both looked at the pink-haired girl, who rested her head on Suzy’s shoulder while Suzy stroked her hair. Friends again.

“Ah, well,” Roger said. “That could prove difficult. Our little Lotus Blossom here doesn’t speak a word of English.”

“I’ll be happy to translate,” Chee Wei said.

Suzy shook her head almost imperceptibly. The gesture was intended for Roger but Ryker picked it up and knew the matter wouldn’t be pursued with the police.

“Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary. The damage really isn’t too severe. And we’ll pay our lead actress danger money to make up for her discomfort. Won’t we, Vincent?” Vincent nodded eagerly. “So, detective sergeant, now that you have the name of the person those thugs were after, what will you do?” Roger asked, smoothly changing the subject.

“I think we need to find her before they do,” Ryker said. “For her own protection.” Suzy got the message. She said something to the other girl, then got up off the bed and went out into the hallway. “We’ll see ourselves out.”

“Our pleasure to have met you, I’m sure,” Roger said.

Ryker followed Suzy into the hallway. She was waiting for them by the front door. Chee Wei was only a step behind him. “Fucking gays,” he said, his whisper every bit as loud as his normal voice. “All that pussy and they don’t know what to do with it! She’s a minor. We can close them down.”

“People gotta eat,” Ryker told him.

“Would you say that if she was white?”

Ryker stopped so suddenly that Chee Wei almost ran into him.

“Okay, hold on,” Chee Wei said. “I’m gonna be picking shoe leather out of my teeth for weeks. I shouldn’t have said that. Dumb fuck thing to say. Forget it, will you?”

But Suzy was waiting to hear his reply, so Ryker gave her one. “The question is would I rather she sold her ass out on the street? The answer’s no. She’s better off here, doing tricks for a pair of queers more likely to mother her than do her harm.”

He stepped up to Suzy. Their eyes were almost level thanks to her boot heels. She was undeniably beautiful but her friend back there in the makeshift film studio had drawn his attention to Suzy’s age. Looks were deceiving; she could be young enough to be his daughter, which was the biggest turn off he could think of on such short notice.

“What else can you tell me?” he said.

“Her name is Zhu Xiaohui,” she said. “She has an apartment. It’s not far. She could be there. But if she knows someone is looking for her? Maybe she’ll stay with her sister.”

Ryker took out his notepad, flipped it open and offered it to her along with a pen.