Read Gibson & Clarke (Failed Justice Series Book 2) Online
Authors: Rick Santini
The tidal wave hit like a tsunami. It seemed like there was crack cocaine and heroin everywhere, especially in New York and northern New Jersey. There was no question where it was coming from. A new task force was formed, and the targets were Sonny Bananas and Xiang Yeung.
A quiet tip from someone on the task force to Rik was all it took. Rik told Marta, Marta made a phone call on a secure line to Mr. Yeung, and as a courtesy, Black Jack contacted Sonny through a mutual acquaintance.
***
Jack earned the accommodation. Marta called him, as Billy suggested, and the two of them had a long, productive, and interesting conversation. She was beginning to understand. Few things were as they appeared to be. It was really all smoke and mirrors—it was one big illusion. It was also a wakeup call. Maybe law wasn’t the honorable profession it was made out to be. Maybe they were all just charlatans. Maybe it was really all about the money.
I refuse to believe that. I refuse to believe ours is not a profession of the highest calling. Why, most of the great leaders of our country were lawyers. They were out for the good of their country, not to line their own pockets.
Marta would not have been pleased if she could read the minds of her two new partners. She knew damn well why people became lawyers. To make money. To make lots of money. And most lawyers didn’t give a damn how they did it.
***
At a small meth clinic in Manhattan, it was chaotic. The new director, a Ms. Mei Ling, had her hands full. The number of Asian women that had been affected by the flood of heroin had not been anticipated nor planned for. Husbands, boyfriends, and pimps were pushing their women to make more money so they could buy more dope. When the women refused, they suffered. They suffered physically and psychologically. Mei Ling would attest to that.
She vowed that someday she would find the villain who caused all this suffering and kill him. He deserved to die. He deserved to die a slow, painful, soul-searching death. She had no idea who was behind it, but she too had her resources. It would be only a matter of time. When people were high, when they were messed up, they talked. They said things that should be kept secret. They mentioned a name. One name led to another, and eventually, it worked its way up the ladder.
Mei Ling was now looking for that first important name.
It did not take long. Toni Lee managed to run from her home when her live-in was too wasted to chase her. He had beaten her. He had beaten her bad. All because she refused to sleep with a few of his friends for a lousy one hundred dollars. When she arrived at the clinic, she was severely traumatized. Several days later, she recalled the name Tommy Tomatoes. He was the one who worked the neighborhood. She wasn’t sure who Tommy worked for, but it was a start.
Mei Ling made an appointment with a member of the Manhattan Task Force. The snowball was slowly picking up speed. And names. Mei Ling pressed for more names, more descriptions, more car descriptions, and more license plate numbers. She was not doing this for herself. She was doing it for those that were too weak and too afraid to do it for themselves.
Whoever is at the top better begin to worry. I will not stop; I will not rest until he suffers like my girls have suffered.
If nothing else, Mei Ling was determined. She refused to quit. It was a trait she learned many years ago from her older brother.
***
When is enough enough? I have more money than I could have ever dreamed of. The last shipment was over the top as to quality and quantity. I will never have to work again. But what do I do with it all? Who do I give it to? I have no living relatives.
Xiang Yeung had had this conversation with himself before. Nothing had changed except the pot kept growing bigger, and his greed had no restraints. He did not know how to quit. And if he did, what would he do then? His only hobby, his only joy was hurting people who disobeyed him. It gave him power, not that he needed more than he already had.
If my little sister were only alive today, we could travel. We could see all parts of the world. We could relieve the suffering of our people.
Xiang knew it was all a fantasy. He had checked many years ago. His parents had both died in the plague, and his little sister Mei Ling was taken to a charity ward of a small hospital. The records were long ago destroyed, but he had spent a great deal of time and money to verify there were no little girls that had survived. No, Mei Ling had died thirty-five, forty years ago.
At my age, with what I have accomplished, it would have been nice to have someone, someone close to share it all with.
Xiang had no way of knowing that someone was now less than forty-three miles away—with hate in her heart.
***
At times, most times, power, money, and exuberance led to sloppiness. The farther down the food chain, the sloppier the transactions became. Those who sold the “nickel and dime” bags were making so much money they were no longer careful who they sold it to. That led to arrests. It was easier for the teenage punks to rat on their bosses than sit in jail with no hope of making bail. The task force made it clear: give up a name or two, or rot in jail till you make bail. The judges were now all cooperating, and bail was set unusually high.
What should have been own recognizance or $5,000 bail was now $25,000. No way could a common street dealer raise that type of cash. The big boys were told be careful. Bail money could easily be traced to the original source, no matter how cleverly it was done. So the normal routine of supplying bail money was no longer in place. There had been a dozen or two arrests at the street level. The teenagers lost their cockiness after three or four days sitting on their asses in jail. They slowly lost their swagger. They began to cooperate. They gave up names in exchange for a quick release from jail.
That’s how the system worked.
Although the name Sonny Bananas was never mentioned, by connecting the dots, it was obvious the middle men worked for Sonny or were at least one step closer to him. The real question was, where did Sonny get so much good product, and how much had he scored?
Rumors flew, but no one had any proof.
The proof came from the most obvious source of all. The lawyers. The law firm of Gibson and Clarke were handling more and more of the bigger busts. On a few matters, there was a special appearance request by a Jack Renaldo from West Virginia.
“Isn’t that Black Jack Renaldo, the former US Attorney? What the hell is he doing up here? Who’s paying him and why?”
The answer was all too obvious.
The puzzle was slowly coming together.
Gibson and Clarke had filed notices of appearances in several cases in Newark where the defendants were in the employ of Xiang Yeung. Jack Renaldo was “of counsel” to Gibson and Clarke. Renaldo was now handling matters for known associates of Salvatore Bonnonnos.
“Bingo. Sonny is getting his supply from Yeung. We all know Yeung has his sources in China. How the hell does he get it from halfway around the world to downtown Newark without anyone knowing how or when?”
“If we cut off the head, the body will die.”
That was the thinking of the task force. Easier said than done.
***
“Are you sure? Are you positive? Absolutely positive?”
Mei Ling sat in a cubicle in One Police Plaza in lower Manhattan. She was told the heroin was coming from the Golden Triangle in China and the supplier was an elderly gentleman who now lived in Newark. He had never been charged or arrested for anything. He had been a citizen for more than a quarter of a century, having come from a place called Hangzhou in China.
His name was Xiang Yeung.
“I don’t believe you. It can’t be. Do you have a photo of him?”
Within minutes, a photo was delivered to the task force member. It was of a small thin gentleman in his early sixties. He was approximate five foot three and could not have weighed more than one hundred twenty-five pounds. He had long gray hair tied in a pony-tail and a small goatee.
Mei Ling stared long and hard at the photo of her brother. She said nothing though her heart was pounding. She gave no explanation before she left to the police officer, who sat there dumbfounded.
It can’t be. It just can’t be.
Yet in her heart, she knew it was him.
“
Ni hao.”
The voice sounded vaguely familiar.
“Ni hao ma
. May I ask who this is, please?”
“It is Mei Ling, your baby sister. The one who was left behind in Hangzhou when our parents sent you to our uncle when you were only fourteen.”
Xiang began to shake uncontrollably. Sweat was pouring out of every pore. He had trouble holding the telephone. He thought he was having a heart attack.
“It can’t be. After all these years…how is it possible? Where are you? When can I see you?”
“May you rot in hell, my infamous brother. May you die a slow, painful death, like all those you have supplied the fruits of the poppy seed. The seeds that caused the deaths of our parents. You are the most evil man I have ever known. I will see you when you are in court explaining to all those grieving parents why you did this to them.”
Xiang was about to explain when the line went dead.
Mei Ling had made sure her number had been blocked. There was no way the call could be traced. She felt better, but not much. She wondered how it had been possible for a fourteen-year-old boy who spoke no English to transform himself into such a powerful, evil person.
***
It was not until the following morning that Xiang was able to think clearly and decide on a course of action. He had to find his baby sister and explain. That was all that now mattered. The money, the power, the home, and all its surroundings no longer meant anything. He had to see Mei Ling, no matter what the cost.
He called Marta. They had to meet immediately. He would send a car to her place. She would have to cancel any and all appointments. He had to see her—now.
The black sedan was parked in front of her office fifteen minutes later. The driver did not shut the motor off. He had his instructions, and no one disobeyed Mr. Yeung.
“Find my sister. Her name is Mei Ling Yeung. She is now fifty-four years old. I do not know where she lives. It could be anywhere in the USA. She knows who I am and what I do for a living. I do not care how much it costs. I do not care who you have to bribe. Just get it done.”
Xiang went on to explain the circumstances of his departure to America, the fact his parents had died a few years later, how his younger sister was placed in a hospital charity ward, and what she said on the phone less than twenty-four hours ago.
“You are dismissed. Report to me at least once a day. I need results, not excuses. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Mr. Yeung.”
***
Marta had two sources to turn to. The first was Black Jack. He had been a US Attorney. He still had to have access to government records as to immigration and naturalization. He was not above paying for favors. That’s why they were granted.
Her other source was good old Rik. He would do anything she asked him to do if he still wanted late night dessert.
Men are so easy. Promise them what they want, and they will bounce off brick walls trying to accomplish what you ask for.
Marta didn’t care if the chauffeur was listening or if the damn sedan was bugged. She was given her marching orders and wasn’t about to waste a single minute of time by waiting till she got back to her secure office.
“The Mei Ling part is a killer. There must be a few thousand, probably more, with that name. If she’s married, who knows what her last name is. The age factor narrows it down considerably. As to the province, Hangzhou, that could be the life saver. Apparently,
It’s a small area one hundred kilometers from Shanghai. That’s our best bet. I’ll have the computer techs on it within the hour. Bye.”
Marta began to breathe easier. She then called Rik.
“Be in my office in a half hour. I don’t care what you’re doing or working on. Be there. Understand?”
Rik was trying to recall what he had done wrong. The phone call was totally out of order. There was no “please” or “thank you.” Just a curt “be there.” Be there he would.
The last call was to Billy Jo. She needed a sounding board. A strong, reliable sounding board. This was not what she signed on for. She was a lawyer, a damn good lawyer, a criminal defense lawyer, not a babysitter or wet nurse.
“Call me back when you’re in your office and the door is closed. I don’t want you venting on an open mike. Bye.”
Billy Jo hung up. Marta realized it was the best advice she’d had all day.
***
Xiang Yeung insisted upon being alone. He would see no one; he would talk to no one. He went into his private garden and ordered a pot of his special tea. It was the same tea he had sipped with his parents and little sister so many years ago. Xiang tried to recall Mei Ling and her personality. She was only seven or eight when he left home. There was not much to remember. She was a very determined, independent little girl. She insisted upon being given a reason for everything. Little girls in China are not given reasons. They are told what to do, and they do it. Not Mei Ling. She fought every decision her parents made.
He did not remember if she had been pretty or not. She was the little sister. She was very smart and spent most of her spare time reading. That was all he could remember. That and the fact she was very honest.
On one occasion, she found a fifty yen note in front of her home. It was worth the equivalent of thirty-five cents. She insisted on asking everyone in the neighborhood if they had lost anything. She would not tell them what she had found. When an elderly gentleman stated he had lost a fifty yen note, she asked if it were a new bill or not. When the gentleman stated it was very old and folded in quarters, then and only then did Mei Ling return it to its rightful owner.
Xiang fell asleep in the garden. The pot of tea was now cold and weak. It was late afternoon, and the sun still hung high in the sky. He had a slight smile on his face. He would make everything right. He would make his little sister pleased and proud of him. She would see.
***
Mei Ling was distraught. She decided she would make up her own dossier on her older brother. With the help of the internet and a few favors she would call in from friends in law enforcement, she would find out all there was to learn about her nefarious brother.
The results later shocked her more than she could possibly imagine.
My brother is a wealthy, wealthy man. Worth hundreds of millions. Back home, he would have been the richest person outside of Singapore. He never married and has no known children. He is in the most disgusting business in the world. How can he live with himself?
A thought suddenly hit Mei Ling. One she could not even contemplate. If he were to die for any reason whatsoever, and he was on every criminal watch bulletin in the country, she would be his only living relative. Their parents were dead, and he had never married or had children. She would inherit everything. She could run her own clinics. She could hire the best doctors and nurses and psychologists. She could buy new clothes and travel back to China to help her people back there.
I would be one of the richest people in New York.
That may have been a slight exaggeration, but not by much.
She hated her own brother and all he stood for, and if something bad, really bad, happened to him, she would be the sole beneficiary. That scared the hell out of her. It also got her to thinking.
What if? What if? OMG, what if?