White Ginger (15 page)

“The woman's not the problem,” said Shan, dismissing the other man's qualms. “I've told you I'll take care of her. I don't know why Jason's here, but this may be the opportunity I've been waiting for. I can kill them both and make it look like a contract hit. The woman's death will look like collateral damage—she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. But you're going to have to disappear afterward. The
Shan Chu
won't let this go. He'll be looking for answers. He'll be looking for you.”

Silence followed. She suspected the other man wasn't satisfied with Shan's response.

“Have it your way,” the other man said begrudgingly. There was defeat in his voice—and perhaps fear. “When this is over, I'm done here. My house is gone anyway. That crazy bastard burned me out. I'm going south. So far south nobody will ever find me.”

“Then we don't have a problem, Sammy. You go your way. I go mine. Both of us will be a little richer.”

Bai's eyes widened. Could it be Sammy Tu that Shan was conversing with? She was confused. What did they have to do with each other?

The voice corrected Shan before she could speculate further. “A lot richer!”

“Maybe by your standards, Sammy, but then you have small expectations. That's why you're a gutter pimp, and I'm about to move up to
Hung Kwan
of the brotherhood. There are going to be some changes in
Sun Yee On
.”

“Sure, sure. Whatever you say. Just don't try and pull me into your war. I don't want any part of it. Like I said, when this is over, I'm gone. You never saw me. I was never here.”

“It's better for everyone if you disappear.”

Shan's voice held a note of finality. He'd just pronounced Sammy Tu's death sentence, and Sammy was such a tool he failed to recognize the peril. She could almost feel sorry for the man.

A door opened and closed. Thinking the men had left the stairwell, Bai reached for the breaker bar on the door. Her hand rested on the handle when she heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs again. She froze, afraid to even breathe. Time seemed to pass slowly as the footsteps faded. She waited until she heard the sound of another door opening and closing before she pushed the door to the stairwell open and sprinted for the elevator.

Bai fidgeted while the elevator seemed to take forever to descend. Her nails tapped nervously at the brass handrail. Their clicking was rapid, like the thumping of her heart. When she stepped out into the lobby, she paused just outside the shiny brass doors as they slowly closed behind her.

Soft light filtered down from crystal chandeliers. Overstuffed, ornate furniture occupied the lobby in small groupings, anchored by artificial bamboo trees that sprouted from large ceramic vases. A bellhop, idly reading a magazine, leaned with his ankles crossed against the closed concierge desk. On the other side of the room at the reception desk, a young black woman in a red blazer typed at a terminal, clearly engrossed by the task.

A nighttime maintenance crew vacuumed the carpet, polished the furniture, and wiped down the mirrors and glass. They were all Asian, all men. She watched them apprehensively as she angled across the room toward the coffee shop. Frayed nerves made her suspicious of everyone.

A sign at the entrance to the coffee shop asked that patrons wait to be seated. She ignored the request and brushed past a hostess who approached with a stack of menus. Her behavior was rude, but she was past caring. She just wanted to find Jason and get out of there.

Tall booths upholstered in a dark red material divided the room into sections. The stalls acted as barriers to obstruct her view. Pacing the aisles, she looked for Jason as she walked past booths filled with boisterous late-night diners. Waitresses hustled trays piled high with hot, loaded plates.

Bai finally found him seated in the rear with his back to a wall. He waved to her. Her face must have telegraphed her mounting anxiety, because his lips dropped into a frown at her approach.

She halted abruptly in front of the booth. “We need to leave.”

“Sit,” he said, standing up to let her into the booth next to him.

She didn't want to sit and returned his frown while shaking her head. He took her by the arm and forced her into the booth then slid in next to her. Turning over an empty mug, he poured steaming coffee from a plastic carafe.

“There isn't time for this,” she objected, pushing the cup away. “I overheard Shan and Sammy Tu speaking in the stairwell. They plan to kill both of us.”

He glanced at her, raised an eyebrow, and put the cup in her hand. “Drink.”

She took a sip to appease him. The coffee tasted good. She took another sip.

“How do you always manage to end up in the wrong place at the wrong time?” he asked. “You seem to have this gift. It's almost like you're an irresistible trouble magnet.”

“So now this is my fault? Didn't you hear me? They plan to kill us! We need to get out of here!”

Raising a hand, he lowered it slowly to indicate she should similarly lower the volume of her voice.

“Just tell me what you heard, and everything will be fine.”

Bai stared at him. He seemed calm, unruffled. She felt like screaming.

Taking another sip of the hot coffee, her gaze slipped over the room nervously. “They said something about killing me and making it look like collateral damage. Do I look like collateral damage?”

He smiled. “What else did they say?”

She scowled at him. “Sammy Tu didn't expect you or
Sun Yee On
to be involved. Shan sees this as an opportunity to take your place and move up in the organization. I'm beginning to get the impression he really doesn't like you.”

He grunted in amusement and made a rolling gesture with his hand to indicate she should continue.

“And he said he was going to make me scream and make you watch.”

She took another sip of the coffee. Her hand trembled to betray her anxiety. The smile on his face vanished. His eyes veiled like a curtain being drawn. For a moment, she thought he might show his anger, but the moment passed.

His hand moved across the table to rest on hers. “Relax. He won't try to kill us here. There are too many witnesses. Reinforcements are on the way. They'll be here soon.”

“The cleaning crew,” she blurted. “I saw them in the lobby. Who are they?”

Jason shook his head and bit down on his lip to hide his amusement. “They're the cleaning crew. They clean the hotel. Don't let your imagination get the better of you.”

“I can't help it. I'm new to this. People may not like me, but no one has ever tried to kill me. Being a nosy bitch never got me into this kind of trouble before.”

“You get used to it,” he stated blandly.

“What are you saying? I don't want to get used to it. This is crazy!”

He pursed his lips and pulled something out of his jacket. He slipped it under the table to her. She put her hand under the table to feel the plastic grip of an automatic pistol. It was still warm from resting against Jason's chest.

She pushed the gun away. “I don't want it.”

“Are you sure?” he looked surprised. “This isn't the time to stand on principle. I have another.”

“Yes, I'm sure. Besides, I don't have any place to put it. In case you haven't noticed, this jacket isn't exactly cut to hide my assets.”

The asymmetrical leather jacket hugged her curves. The garment was chic but left nowhere to hide a gun.

Jason smiled and drew his hand back to place the gun back in his jacket. “Believe me, I've noticed.”

He thought a moment and then reached inside his cuff before placing his hand beneath the table again. “If you won't take a gun, at least take this.”

He passed her a throwing knife, a finely balanced blade with razor-sharp edges.

“You still know how to use one, don't you?” he asked.

She frowned at the insinuation. “Don't be insulting.”

She carefully slipped the knife into the sheath built into the sleeve of her jacket. The knife was reassuring. She hadn't felt fully dressed without one.

“Hopefully, you won't have to use it,” he said. “I have my own people on the way. I'm just not certain how many of my brothers in Vancouver Shan has managed to turn.”

“I don't get it. Why would anyone follow him? He's a bully and a fool.”

Jason waved away the criticism. “He has his talents and his allies. There's a faction in
Sun Yee On
, an old guard, who is determined to return to the ‘old ways.' They believe in a lot of sentimental nonsense . . . like the ‘old days' were really all that great. Shan's even been talking to the Big Circle Boys about forming a new alliance of triads that would revert to drinking one another's blood and vowing blind fealty.”

Bai was mystified. “The Big Circle Boys used to be Red Guard. They've always been our enemies. What do they hope to get out of an alliance?”

“They probably want nothing more than to start an internal struggle within
Sun Yee On
. Whatever makes us weaker makes them stronger. But Shan can't see the danger. The man's blinded by ambition. He's also a bit delusional, if you haven't noticed.”

Jason grimaced. Bai was familiar with that look. It was regret.

“Why does Shan hate you?” she asked.

He let out a puff of air and seemed to gather his thoughts before answering. “Because I treat him like the fool he is, for one thing. And, I killed his sponsor, a man who challenged my authority as
Hung Kwan
. The death seemed necessary at the time.”

“‘Kill one to warn a hundred'?” she asked, quoting an old proverb.

His voice was sober. “Something like that.”

Bai had difficulty sympathizing with Jason's failed management style. She was more concerned with the present.

“So, what do we do now?” she asked.

“Now, we eat. This is the safest place for both of us. The longer we wait here, the longer my men will have to get in place. Besides, I'm hungry. Being with you gives me an appetite.”

The smile returned to his face. She was tempted to let his reassurance lull her. Her better judgment kicked in to ward off the enticement. Jason was thinking on his feet and improvising as he went. That he seemed to be enjoying himself didn't lessen her anxiety.

She didn't return his smile but picked up a menu anyway. She ordered a salad and fettuccini with pesto; he ordered a steak. They settled on coffee and water. Given the circumstances, getting drunk seemed like a bad idea.

When the waitress wandered off to see to other customers, Bai leaned into him to speak in confidence. “I thought the attempts to kill me had something to do with
Sun Yee On
. Now I'm not so certain.”

“You may be right. A lot of unanswered questions still need to be addressed. It would be nice to have a word with Sammy Tu to get the whole story.” Jason's musings seemed to be as much for his benefit as for hers. “Plus, we still need to find out if he has the girl.”

The waitress approached with their salads. When she'd delivered the plates to the table and informed them, playfully, that she was just a shout away, she departed. Bai's nerves were starting to settle and her appetite to return. Usually, her appetite was the last thing to desert her in times of stress.

Jason's mood seemed annoyingly light. He grinned at her. “Anyway, getting back to your problem, I dispatched the money and phone to our headquarters here in Vancouver. We should know by tomorrow what bank dispensed the money. There's no way to tell who the money was given to, but the sequential numbers will definitely point us to a specific region—if not a specific bank branch. The fact that somebody paid in sequentially numbered bills leads me to believe they don't make a habit of hiring killers. It's blatantly stupid.”

Bai agreed with him but also knew it was dangerous to make assumptions. “That's only if the money was in payment for the hit.”

He raised his fork to emphasize his point. “That's true. The money could be a red herring, but it never hurts to follow a lead. The phone is a burn phone, prepaid with only one number programmed into it. And, again, we won't be able to trace who purchased it, but we will be able to find out where it was sold. If the money and the phone come from the same region, maybe those responsible are somewhere nearby. We also have the phone number, likely belonging to another burn phone. But it never hurts to call and let them know their assassin is dead, and we're on to them. Might light a fire under them. Make them do something hasty, something stupid.”

Bai was less than happy with that thought. She looked at him doubtfully. “Something ‘hasty' like try to kill me again, you mean. Thanks, but let's give that one a little more consideration. I'm not really sure I want to be bait. Besides, the trail may only lead back to an agent.”

It was a given that contracts, more often than not, went through intermediaries. Lawyers had proven to be perfect go-betweens since client confidentiality provided a screen for the culprits to hide behind. Overseas agencies also provided a similar service for a fee. Assassination, like many businesses, had gone global.