CHAPTER 35

Scott Damiano and I were on Nuuanu Street by the time darkness fully fell over Chinatown. We stood in the shadows as Scott finished a cigarette, no words spoken by either of us. A light drizzle fell onto the street, soon followed by a full rain. It seemed fitting that the skies would open up as we searched for Lok Sun. I wouldn’t have been terribly shocked if the seas rose, if the earth trembled and swallowed us whole. This was how surreal my life had become.

Scott flicked the cigarette onto the wet sidewalk, and we left our nook and stepped into the downpour. Since it seemed impossible to learn anything significant about the Pharmacist, I decided to learn as much as possible about the drug. Through speaking with our forensics expert, Baron Lee, I absorbed a number of pertinent facts about strychnine, which could well aid us in our investigation.

First, the substance occurred naturally in the tree known as Strychnos nux-vomica, which was native to India and other tropical places, including Hawaii. Although small doses of strychnine were widely used to treat stomach ailments before World War II, it had no modern uses in Western medicine. However, Strychnos continued to be used in Chinese herbal medicine, particularly in the treatment of cancer.

Unfortunately, the Chinese pharmacies we were interested in weren’t listed in the Paradise Yellow Pages. So I went on the Internet and found a few relevant Chinese symbols that might assist us in tracking down a pharmacist in Chinatown.

“There,” I said, pointing to a second-floor window marked with several Chinese symbols.

“See?” Scott said, following my finger. “I would’ve guessed that read ‘unisex hair salon.’”

“Never mind that. Just get your gun ready.”

I tried the downstairs door. It was locked, but not nearly enough to keep Scott Damiano out. I watched the street while Scott played with the tumbler.

“Got it,” he said ninety seconds later.

We stepped into a dank, dark hallway that smelled like a Dumpster parked behind a cheap Chinese takeout.

“You have enough bullets?” I said as we crept up a flight of creaky wooden stairs. “Because if the stench is any worse up there, I’m going to ask you to put one in the back of my head.”

“Just say when,” Scott said a little too deadpan.

As soon as we reached the second landing, we were greeted by a hideous centipede, no less than eight inches in length, moving like a bullet across the short hall.

“Christ,” Scott said, keeping his voice low. “If we come across one any bigger than that, I’m shooting it.”

“Be my guest,” I said softly. “No one here will mind. The Chinese consider the centipede one of the five evils of the natural world.”

“What are the other four?”

“The snake, the toad, the scorpion, and the gecko. They’re each said to symbolize corruption.”

“Why the gecko?”

I looked at him. “How the hell should I know?”

Three doors were on the second landing, one in the front and two on either side in the rear. We moved toward the door that would open to the room with the Chinese symbols on the window.

I gave the door a light rap. Then I stepped back and let Scott do his thing.

“Last time I broke into a pharmacy it was for Oxys,” he said from his knees as he worked the lock.

“Well, let’s see how this one goes and maybe we’ll try our hand at a Longs Drugs on the way home.”

By the time I finished my sentence, Scott was already in. He opened the door, and we stepped inside. The walls of the creepy little hole were lined with shelves, lined with small, colorful boxes, presumably filled with medicinal herbs. Jars everywhere, some filled with strange-looking berries, others with what looked like animal parts. The stench nearly brought me to my knees.

This was no traditional Chinese pharmacy. I’d been to a few of those in New York’s Chinatown during law school, when my stomach was in constant distress. This looked more like something out of a horror movie.

“Look at this,” Scott said, picking up a small jar of white powder.

“Careful with that.”

He twisted the lid and stuck his index finger into the jar, then touched his finger to the tip of his tongue.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Relax, Kev. It’s Yunnan Baiyao. The Vietcong used it to stop bleeding during the Vietnam War.”

“How the hell do you know?”

“Nico Tagliarini used it on a gunshot wound when Danny Flakes winged him in the Bronx.”

“Danny Flakes?”

“He had bad dandruff,” Scott said.

“Had?”

“Oh, yeah. He’s gone. They found his body on the side of the road right off the Throgs Neck Bridge the next day.” Scott stuffed the jar into his pocket. “This shit’s expensive. You can’t find it in the States.”

“Do your Christmas shopping later. Right now we’re looking for strychnine. And if you find it, don’t touch it. And sure as hell don’t put any on your tongue.”

The small space had too many items. I worried we’d be here all night and find nothing. Worse, I didn’t imagine that Chinatown had many of these underground pharmacies in its three-block radius.

Forty minutes after we entered the place I was ready to give up. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Scott playing on his cell phone.

“What are you doing? We don’t have time for you to be sending text messages to Chloe.”

“It’s a fucking iPhone,” he said as though that cleared everything up. “I’m on the Web. Come here, look.”

He handed me the phone, and I studied the picture on the screen. Then my eyes moved over the jar Scott was pointing to. The jar was filled with flattened seeds covered with red hairs radiating from the center of the sides.

I studied the screen on the iPhone again. The caption read: STRYCHNOS NUX-VOMICA (SEEDS).

“Well, I’ll be damned,” I said.