Read Gibson & Clarke (Failed Justice Series Book 2) Online
Authors: Rick Santini
Marta sat in the car, making some much-needed phone calls. After the third or fourth, she lost track of time. There had been two messages from Rik. He sounded anxious. She wondered if he had left something at her place, like a wallet or weapon or his bikini shorts. No way was she giving him a key to her place. That was the very last thing she wanted. She would call him later.
Maybe.
Billy Jo and Black Jack had both left messages. She decided Billy’s was the more important call.
“It’s me. You called?”
“You’re damn right I called. Do you have any idea where Tao Fung, your client, is?”
“Not really, and besides, he is no longer a client. The DA agreed to drop all charges, remember?”
“Well, they just found him—or what’s left of him—in a ditch on a dirt access road to the airport. Probably near an unlisted restaurant if I recall correctly.”
Marta did not say a word. What was there to say? After a few minutes, she recovered and asked, “How and when?”
“He was hit by a large vehicle, possibly a truck. Then he was run over just to make sure. As to when, in the last twenty-four to thirty-six hours, according to the coroner. By the way, where is Mr. Yeung these days?”
“He’s with Mei Ling right now. I picked him up and drove him into the city an hour ago. Why?”
“Why do you think? Tao obviously knew too much. He went from an asset to a liability. It’s good to get rid of liabilities.”
Marta’s first thought was
What if I become a liability?
She needed time to think.
“I’ll call you later.”
Marta was scared. No question about it. She was afraid for her very life and with good reason. Her next thought was
The old fart is coming on to me. What happens if I say no?
She sat in the car with her eyes closed and waited. She was not sure for what.
***
Mei Ling offered her brother a cup of tea. He was shocked and delighted when he recognized it as his own.
“Where did you get these leaves? They are from our home province.”
“I know. I found them in a little shop off Mott Street. They are not the same as back home but very close. The taste reminds me of what our parents drank in the evenings when I was supposed to be asleep. When I was good, as a special treat, Mama would let me sip from her cup when Papa was not around.”
Xiang could feel the edge wearing off. He knew he needed to proceed slowly. He decided business could wait. She already had her money. The more they talked, the sooner she would realize he was not the devil himself.
He steered the conversation to her charity and wanted to know what he could do to help, aside from the very large gift that had just been bestowed upon her.
“You might want to stop driving these unfortunate souls to me. Stop selling heroin.”
“You have my word. As of today, I will cease all operations. I do not need the money nor the grief it has brought to our family.”
The remainder of the time was spent talking about when they were children, how the plague virtually wiped out the entire village, and how she came to marry and divorce a G.I. Before either realized it, more than an hour had passed.
“It would be my honor if I could see you again. We have much to talk about.”
Mei Ling hesitated and replied, “You may call me in a day or two. Here is my card. My private number is on the back. Thank you for your most generous gift. For now, we must say goodbye.”
Mei Ling bowed slightly and showed Xiang to the door.
***
Five minutes, or was it fifty-five minutes later—she was not sure how long she had been sitting—there was a knock on the window. It was him. Marta sat bolt-upright and managed to open the passenger side door without totally freaking out.
“I’m sorry; my mind was a million miles away.”
“As was mine. Mei Ling and I talked for close to an hour and a half. We agreed we would meet again. No time has been set. I can call my chauffeur to drive me home if you have other things to do.”
“No, no. Please sit up front with me so we can talk.”
So why did you have Tao Fung killed? Was he becoming a problem?
Marta repressed the thought and asked if there was anything else she could do to smooth the path between Mei Ling and him.
“It has nothing to do with Mei Ling, but you would greatly honor an old man by accepting an invitation to dinner when you are available. If I am overstepping my bounds, please forgive me. For now, we have an attorney/client relationship. If you would like to keep it that way, I understand, and it will never affect our business dealings.”
Marta was always known for thinking on her feet, or in this case, sitting on her ass, driving. She also wanted to protect that ass as long as she could.
“I would love to have dinner with you. What about tomorrow night? Say around seven. You can decide where and pick me up at my place.”
Yes. Two birds with one stone. Maybe I can find out what happened today and offer my condolences on the untimely demise of Mr. Fung. Surely he would not hurt me if he was dating me. Would he?
“Thank you. You have made me most happy. My driver will be at your place at seven p.m.”
The last thing on her mind was Rik. That would be the very least of her problems. She had no idea how poorly he would take it or how he would feel if and when he found out she was dating a client. An elderly Chinese and very wealthy client.
The drug lord for the drug lords.
Life was moving far too fast for her. Problems like this never surfaced at the DA’s office.
After dropping a very appreciative Xiang Yeung off at his home, Marta decided she had enough excitement for one day. She would go straight home and rest. Her body needed it. It screamed for it. She called her office to ask Miranda if there were any important messages, and she was on her way home.
“Mr. Renaldo—” Miranda could not bring herself to call him Black Jack “—called. It sounded important. He’s waiting for your call. Have a nice day, Ms. Clarke.”
Crap. As if I don’t have enough problems right now.
“Jack, it’s Marta. Sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner. What’s up?”
“Who do you know in the US Attorney’s office for the Southern District of New York?”
“You mean Brooklyn and Long Island? I still have a few friends who owe me favors there. What’s the problem?”
“The problem is our client, Salvatore Bonnonnos. He was served with a subpoena to appear before a grand jury on a racketeering charge. That’s what the problem is. You need to find out what’s going on and quash it. Like right now.”
Crap, this is the last thing I need today.
“Text me all the information you have, and I’ll make some phone calls today.”
Marta made three phone calls, all to those who in the past called her asking for favors, drove home, undressed in thirty seconds, put her cell phone on vibrate, and flopped in bed. She was asleep thirty seconds later. She never heard the phone vibrate.
Nor did she care.
The constant beeping woke Marta up close to six in the evening. The fifteen-minute mini nap had turned out to be closer to three full hours. Her body thanked her. The cell phone was more persistent.
Josh Beckman, an AUSA, Assistant US Attorney, had returned her call. On the Q.T., Josh had always wanted to be an eye surgeon but a freak fencing accident before a sanctioned meet when he was practicing without gloves cut his wrist and his dreams beyond repair. He had quickly switched to law. Josh and Marta had gone to law school together and had remained good friends ever since—even after his divorce. They had never dated each other but someday, maybe.
The message was short, if not sweet.
Josh: Bananas federal target. Tread carefully.
Marta did not need any further explanation. It was well after normal business hours, and she didn’t want to call Josh at home. She wasn’t sure she had a cell phone number for him. She called Jack and relayed the message. When he began asking questions, she let him know that was all she knew at the moment.
Marta had a few other calls to make. First, a cup of black coffee. Then, time to think.
***
“What is it?”
“A natural black pearl. Found only in the Indian Ocean, near Australia.”
“It is magnificent, but I cannot accept it. We agreed to go out to dinner. I am thoroughly enjoying the company, but to accept a gift like this is out of the question. Thank you so very much, but I must say no.”
Xiang was clearly disappointed.
“Perhaps when we know each other a little better.”
“Perhaps. Now, I’m dying to try the smoked roast duck.”
Xiang merely nodded, and a staff member uncovered the dish and placed it in front of Marta.
Dinner was truly a culinary treat. Although Xiang ate little, he took great pleasure in watching Marta taste dishes she had only heard of or read about. After a thoroughly enjoyable and slow-paced feast, the plates were cleared, the linen tablecloth quickly replaced, and tea was served. It was the classic blend Xiang had talked about previously.
It had a bittersweet acquired taste. Marta thought she could get used to it—over a period of time.
What am I thinking? This is one date and one date only. There will be no period of time—at least not with Mr. Yeung, who is clearly old enough to be my father.
Marta had to remind herself Yeung was a client, nothing more or less. He was a powerful man and most likely a killer. Her romantic interest in him was less than zero. What else could she do but be polite and make excuses for the anticipated request for another meeting?
Something was nagging inside her, and she didn’t like it. Not one damn bit.
Mr. Yeung acted like the perfect gentleman he was. He made no attempt at any type of intimacy, not that Marta expected any. When the town car arrived at her place, the chauffeur opened the door for her and escorted her to her front door. Xiang again thanked her for a most enjoyable evening and suggested they meet again. No time or date was mentioned.
“I’ll call you in a day or two, as soon as my schedule eases up.”
Mr. Yeung merely smiled and nodded his head.
Why the hell did I say that? What am I thinking?
Marta went inside with the intent of trying to figure out her thought process. She didn’t have time. Sitting on the living room couch was Rik, smiling like the cat that ate the canary.
“What are you doing here, and how the hell did you get in my place?”
“Tricks of the trade. I didn’t think you’d mind. Not after your dinner date with your Chinese grandfather.”
“Either you get your smug ass out of here in five seconds or I’m calling the cops and have you arrested for breaking and entering. Do you understand? Get the fuck out of my apartment now, and don’t you ever pull this shit again. As for your employment with Gibson and Clarke, I’ll have to think about it before I do something rash.”
“You’ve got to be joking. I figured you would welcome me with open arms.”
Marta picked up the phone, ready to dial 911.
“Do I look like I am joking? If you are not out the door in five seconds, I’ll swear out a warrant for your arrest. Can I make it any clearer?”
Rik took a long look in her eyes and decided to leave.
Marta stared at him and hurled one more threat.
“I suggest you take tomorrow off. I don’t want to see you in the office for a day or two.”
I was not with my grandfather. I was with a gentleman. A sweet, polite, and caring gentleman. One that cared about me, not what I would do for him.
Marta decided she wanted to see Xiang—he was no longer Mr. Yeung—again. She was not sure why. She had nothing to lose. Besides, it would thoroughly piss off Rik, who had clearly crossed the line.
Rik is a boy toy. Rik was a boy toy. Not anymore. I will make it crystal clear to him. If he wants to stay on, it is strictly employer/employee. One sexual comment, and he is out on his ass. Period.
Marta felt better, but not much. He clearly overstepped his bounds, but he was still great in the sack.
I don’t need his shit. I don’t need any man’s shit. Not now, not ever.
***
Rik parked his car a block away and sat. He did not understand Marta. He did not understand women. He did not understand anything. He had just quit a good paying job with the sheriff’s office, and now there was a good chance he had lost his new job. All because he had made an impression of Marta’s front door key. Just in case he had to get in the apartment when she was not home. He meant no harm by it. He could not understand why was she in such a hissy, pissy mood.
I don’t need her shit. I don’t need any women’s shit. Not now, not ever.