CHAPTER NINETEEN

 

Li sat with his legs crossed in a feminine style and his bony hands clasped atop an equally bony knee. His calm demeanor belied his disposition. It was clear Li could snap his fingers and his crew would fall into action.

Kenny and Kai stood behind Li with their arms folded in front of them like bouncers and glared at Jack. He knew the positions of their hands were within easy reach of their weapons. Kai seemed to have an itchy trigger finger by the way he kept rubbing his thumb across the tips of his fingers.

Jack sat quietly with his palms on his thighs and gazed directly at Li, careful not to make any sudden moves that might set off the thugs without waiting for their boss' encouragement.

After a long moment of silence, Li said, "Tell me what you want."

"I've been buying weed, coke, and some heroin off Armstrong for a while, but I find I'm in need of a lot more," Jack said.

"What is the reason for your sudden decision?"

"A little is fun to play with, but my crew needs a new supplier if we're going to stay in business."

Li's chin lifted slightly. "Your crew?"

"Yeah, my gang."

"Hmm. I'm intrigued. Tell me more of your gang."

Jack slowly rose and turned his back to Li, showing the gang patch on the back of his cut—the grim reaper riding a hyper-stylized Harley and brandishing a scythe. The bike seemed to be riding the waves with the Golden Gate Bridge in the background. The numbers 666 were above the design and San Francisco below it.

When he sat again, Li said, "6-6-6. I have heard of this gang."

The 666 gang, sometimes called the Triple Sixers or just the Sixers, was a police department creation and only brought out of mothballs when officers went undercover for cases relating to bike gangs. Had Rod worn his cut in the Majestic Lounge over Christmas, Jack would have instantly recognized him as an undercover cop. Though, as the Majestic was a gay nightclub, posing as a real biker probably wasn't the vibe Rod had been going for.

When Jack left the force four years ago, no one thought to get the cut back, and it had been the last thing on his mind to return it. He hadn't used it since his last undercover job five or six years ago and had been surprised it still fit. If anything, it was loose. Like everything else he owned. Lately, food wasn’t exactly a priority for him.

His current actions were nothing to do with the department. This was his own undercover job, and the cut was the perfect cover. There was no reason for Haniford or anyone else to know what he was up to. Not even Ray. If things went sideways, it was completely on him.

"Then you'll know we make our bread on the distribution of pharmaceuticals . . . and a few other things," Jack added.

"Enlighten me."

Jack reseated himself. "A little of this, a little of that. Whatever makes the greenbacks. You know what I mean."

Li offered a weak grin. "Your . . . organization . . . has a strong reputation in the city. How is it you come to require services I may offer?"

That reputation was also fed by the department who leaked stories of false arrests and fake cases to the press. Anyone doing a web search on the 666s or gangs in San Francisco would come up with some of these phony stories. If Li knew anything, it came from whatever the department put out, including the story Jack now told Li.

"The relationship with our previous supplier was cut short when he was killed down in Juarez."

"That is unfortunate. Who ran this other organization, if I may ask?" Li smiled but it didn't reach his eyes.

"We only knew him as El Toro—The Bull—and only dealt with one of his handlers," Jack said, bringing another name out of mothballs.

"I've heard of this Bull. A very dangerous man."

Jack chuckled lightly. Another lie. Was Li stringing him along, or did he believe the media spin? "We never had any trouble, but I can tell you the rumors of him going out in a blaze of glory are highly exaggerated."

"What happened to such a man to cause him a dishonorable death?"

"He was in Juarez overseeing a new supply of pharmaceuticals and new girls to bring across the border. While there, he hooked up with one of his putas. Her husband came home unexpectedly . . . ." Jack let Li assume the rest.

"A dangerous game, toying with another man's woman, but was he not protected by his men?" Li gave the briefest acknowledgment to the two men behind him.

Jack nodded. "Of course, but the husband saw El Toro's guards, so he took a secret tunnel into the house and found his wife with El Toro's cock in her mouth. He shot them both execution style—one bullet each, right between the eyes." Jack made a gun with two fingers and thumb, and fired it sideways, gangster style, toward the ground. "Bang. Bang. Muerto."

Li seemed unsurprised. "This can happen. Did his second not step forward to continue your relationship?"

"He tried, but others thought they were the rightful heir to the kingdom. When a civil war kicked off, we backed away. We don't need that kinda heat blowing our way."

"Yes, understandable."

"We've been sampling gear from a few suppliers. That's how we found Armstrong. He sold us some good shit and we told him we wanted in on it. It took some encouragement," Jack flashed Li a dark grin he hoped said he'd roughed up Armstrong, "but he finally gave up your name. So here I am."

"I see." Li looked at Armstrong who leaned against the glass display counter containing the knives. Li didn't speak, but his expression said he expected a reply from the guy.

Armstrong nodded quickly. "I don't know about that stuff in Mexico, but yeah, Jack's been buying stuff off me. He asked me who my supplier was, but I wasn't about to tell him. That takes money out of my pocket."

"Yet you did tell him."

"Only after he smacked me around. I mean, look at the size of him," Armstrong said, giving Jack the once over. "I didn't want to die."

"You still could," Li suggested.

Armstrong stepped forward, gesturing between Jack and Li. "Yeah, but what would you gain by killing me? Jack's looking for weight. It's more than I can supply, but it would mean a lot of money for you." He paused, then added in a lowered voice, "And I wouldn't say no to a little finder's fee, if you know what I mean." He rubbed his thumb and fingers together on one hand.

Li didn't acknowledge Armstrong's last comment as he turned his attention back to Jack. "What kind of weight are we talking about?"

"How much have you got? I know Armstrong here is peddling light weights of weed, coke, heroin, and a little meth. We'll place a substantial order."

"Mmm," was all Li said.

Jack played the hand he was fairly certain would make Li bite. "Armstrong also said you might have something else in the works. If what he said is true, we want in on it."

The last comment made Li give Armstrong a slow look. His expression changed to one of surprise. "Did he?"

Jack nodded. "We want something people can’t get anywhere else. Smokables, edibles, injectables, snortables . . . I don't care if the user has to shove it up their ass. We just want to sell the best high on the market, whatever it is. Armstrong says you're the man to get it from."

Li continued looking at Armstrong. His expression made Armstrong straighten his spine and step back. "Yeah, you know," he said with a shaky voice. Lower, he added, "I think I mighta cracked it." Then in a whisper, he leaned in and said, "This could be big."

Li eventually looked back at Jack. "I must consider my options, Mr. Jack." Over his shoulder, he said, "Ná bǐ hézhǐ." Kenny stepped behind the counter and retrieved a pen and a small notepad. "Bǎ zhège gěi tā." As Kenny was passing the items to Jack, Li said, "Write down what you want and how to reach you. I will consider these things and let you know if we can do business. I do not know what Logan has told you about anything else. He and I will talk. For now, these other things are all I will consider."

"Fair enough," Jack replied, writing the information on the notepad. He gave Li the number to the burner phone which he had tucked inside his jacket pocket in case anyone decided to check it.

Kenny took back the pen and notepad when Jack was done, and handed the pad to Li, whose good eyebrow lifted. “This is quite a substantial order.”

Jack shrugged. “Is it?”

“Tell me, what do I get out of this arrangement, should it come to that?”

“Lots of greenbacks,” Jack responded with a chuckle.

“And if I require something more, what would you be prepared to give . . . to show your trust in me?” Was Li trying to prove Jack wrong, that his thugs trusted him without fear? What more could Jack promise Li to seal the deal?

“Protection. Give a deal on the gear we can’t refuse and we’ll protect you . . . and all of your business dealings.”

Li stared at Jack for a long moment before rising. "You may go now. I lose business with a locked door." When Jack stood and offered a hand to shake, Li said, "We have not made a deal yet, Jack. If we come to an arrangement, I will shake with you then."

Jack pulled out his sunglasses and slipped them on. "Okay, chief. Thanks for your time. I expect to hear from you soon or we'll go elsewhere for the gear." Li gave him a smile telling Jack Thank you for coming, now fuck off. "Logan. A word."

Armstrong looked to Li, as if asking for permission to go with Jack. Li extended a hand toward Jack, but his expression told him he wasn't going anywhere.

Kenny was already holding open the door.

Fresh air slapped Jack in the face, instantly clearing his sinuses of the pong inside the shop. He inhaled sharply as he strode to the Harley.

"Dude, that was intense," Armstrong excitedly said under his breath.

As soon as the shop door closed, Jack turned on Armstrong. Jack poked him in the chest as he spoke. "I thought he knew I was coming. That could have gone assways in more ways than I care to think about."

"But it didn't, man. He talked to you. He doesn't talk to just anyone." Armstrong swatted at Jack’s hand.

"Maybe, but it doesn't mean we're going to do business. You need to impress upon him how serious I am about my offer.” Jack grabbed the helmet off the gas tank and slid it on. Before dropping down the visor, he poked Armstrong in the shoulder this time and said, "You and I need to talk more about that side project you've been working on for him. That's got my attention more than the other stuff."

Armstrong stepped back. "Yeah, okay man. Just stop doing that. It hurts."

Jack chuckled. "You haven't felt hurt yet. This deal goes sideways, I'll be looking for you. I have a lot of questions still needing answers." Like where the hell is my wife?

Jack threw a leg over the saddle and pulled the bike upright, off the kickstand. He slammed his weight down onto the kick starter with one powerful thrust. The bike roared to life.

He looked hard at Armstrong one more time before flipping down the visor and pulling out of the space.

 

Jack took his time leaving Chinatown via Kearny Street to Broadway. It didn't take long to know he was being followed. Two people dressed in matching black bike gear and helmets rode together on a small black rice rocket. He caught them in his rearview mirror as they wove through traffic, trying to keep up with him. He doubted it was Kenny and Kai simply because they wouldn’t have had time to change into bike gear.

When Jack reached the Embarcadero, he casually signaled left and joined the traffic heading west. The pair followed. They stayed back just far enough they probably hoped he wouldn’t notice.

The light at Bay Street had just turned red so Jack gunned the motor and raced across the junction just as oncoming traffic started making its way across the intersection. The rice rocket had no choice but to stop at the light and wait.

Jack chuckled as he immediately veered off the road into the lanes for the Pier 39 parking garage. He wove between the cars waiting for the Muni to pass, then turned to follow the trolleybus as it joined Bay Street. He hugged the right side of the bus as it turned right to join the Embarcadero heading east. In his rearview mirror, he saw the rice rocket speed across the junction on its green light and up Bay Street. They hadn’t seen him.

Jack pulled back the throttle and sped toward Broadway.