CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

 

Friday – April 9

 

"What's this for?" Ray had asked, catching the City Vaults key Jack tossed at him.

“It’s a key. It opens things.”

Ray huffed. “No shit, but why are you giving it to me?”

Early Wednesday morning, Jack had taken everything he’d gathered—pink slips, deeds, accounts, keys, and anything else he thought important—and took it over to the Trans Am Building and put it into a safety deposit box at City Vaults.

Last night, Ray had stopped by the apartment with the money Haniford had promised, along with drug test kits Jack would need to ensure he was buying drugs and not crushed aspirin. He wasn't about to hand over the money if the shit wasn't pure.

Jack still wasn’t sure why Li had only asked for fifty thousand and it made him anxious.

"Someone gets to deal with my shit if this meeting with Li goes tits up. Tag. You’re it." Ray kept looking between Jack and the key in his hand. “You’ll need this too.” Jack had slid the paperwork across the desk Ray would need to access the box.

Jack saw Ray struggling for words, so he’d distracted him by saying he wanted to count the money. He knew the bank had already done it—apparent by the currency straps around the ten bundles of fifty-dollar bills—but counting it gave him something to do with his nervous fingers. And it kept Ray quiet, which in turn kept Jack’s own anxiety from worsening.

When it was time for Ray to leave, Jack felt his friend's trepidation as he pushed him through the door. On the landing, Ray spun and threw his arms around Jack and held him tightly for a long minute, only reluctantly letting him go, but when he did, Ray quickly wiped his eyes and rushed down the steel stairs.

Jack tried thinking of something to say to lighten things but came up empty. In the end, he shouted down to the alley, “Thanks for everything, brother.”

Ray had stopped in his tracks and glared up at Jack. “Just be safe and come home.” Then he was gone.

When Jack was alone again, he retrieved the tiny urn that held Zoë’s ashes and set them on his desk. Beside the urn was a short note Jack had already written to Ray explaining that should Jack die, he wanted his remains cremated and taken with Zoë’s to Holy Cross Catholic Cemetery in Colma to be buried beside his mother in the family plot he’d purchased after her passing.

 

Jack tossed all night on the sofa, his imagination spinning over possible outcomes when he met Li. Now that Li knew who he was, his chances of walking out of Dragon’s Lair alive were slim.

It wasn't the dying part he had a problem with. He just wanted it to be on his own terms. Screw that he was already meeting with Li, but Haniford's using it to his advantage put Jack in an impossible situation which took away his own freedom of choice—meet with Li and probably come out in a body bag, or fail to meet with Li and spend the next few years in prison for impeding an investigation, and whatever else Haniford could throw at him.

With a low growl, Jack threw himself off the sofa as soon as light started filtering through the grungy curtains. He folded up the blanket and set it on the pillow in a neat pile, then went into the bathroom for a shower. He still had the day to get through and a shower would wake him up.

And lots of coffee.

 

There were two things Jack wanted to accomplish before his drive to Dragon’s Lair tonight. The first was giving his potentially last confession at St. Frank’s, and the other was one last ride.

At the door, he threw on his jacket then grabbed his saddlebags—Haniford’s money in one pouch and the cut in the other. He left his helmet on the table beside the door before descending the stairs to the alley. He didn’t look back. He wasn’t expecting to return.

It took a hot minute to reach the church on his bike. He gave his confession to a priest he’d never met before lighting candles for his mother, Leah, Zoë, the Navarros, and, of course, Nick.

He didn't have a destination in mind but found himself crossing the peninsula to the Great Highway where he turned south and kept the Pacific Ocean on his right. Weaving at speed through traffic, he passed through Pacifica, Montara, and Moss Beach before approaching Pillar Point Harbor.

At the sign for Princeton, he turned onto Capistrano Road and followed the signs to the Half Moon Bay Distillery. He didn’t stop there, but instead, took the narrow, winding West Point Road out to the Pillar Point headland where the Air Force base was located on a clifftop above Mavericks Beach.

Jack took advantage of the quiet harbor beach and rode his bike along the footpath and parked beside the DANGER sign at the entrance to Mavericks Beach. With the saddlebags over one shoulder, he scrambled up a steep cliffside to the back of the base and followed the chain link fence out to Pillar Point, a narrow triangle-shaped plateau on the headland overlooking the rugged, rocky shoreline. The cliff below gave way to a path of jagged rocks out to Sail Rocks and the Mavericks Surfing Zone. He sat with his legs hanging over the cliff edge and tasted the salty sea spray as it washed over his skin.

Jack remembered the last time he’d come here. It felt like both yesterday and a lifetime ago. He and Leah had come to watch Cutter perform at the famous Titans of Mavericks surf competition, open to just twenty-four by-invitation-only competitors; an honor in itself. Only the best surfers in the world had been invited, but with winter waves sometimes reaching fifty and sixty feet, even the best of the best thought twice about accepting the invitation to Mavericks.

Today, the waves were much tamer, but as he sat watching them break on the rocks, the ground still rumbled beneath him. It radiated through his ass and thighs and up his spine. The sharp wind cut through him despite the heavy leather jacket he wore.

He finger-combed his tangled hair against the sharp wind and thought about not returning to the city. What would happen if he just kept going? Screw everything and everyone. Draw a line in the sand and start over. The money in the saddlebag beside him would keep him afloat for a while.

Could he do that?

Would Ray and Maria forgive him?

Would it be fair to Leah?

And would Haniford put out a BOLO to get his money back? Of course he would, but this thought didn’t bother him as much as letting down Ray and giving up on learning what had happened to Leah.

Guilt reared its ugly head again. This was the closest he'd been to finding out what had happened to his wife. While he knew some would consider it all as a wrong place, wrong time situation, it had been a choice Rybak made to kill Zoë and Trax.

Jack also had choices to make. Keep driving and not look back at the city and everything waiting there for him, or return and hopefully live long enough to find out what had happened to Leah. Even if Li killed him, he would die easy, finally knowing what had happened to his family.

And wasn’t this the endgame he’d been planning for the last four years? Why was he now looking down the coast for salvation?

 

He should have been more anxious, but his ride this afternoon helped clear his head. His sole focus was making this deal and trying to live long enough to learn what had happened to Leah. If he didn’t see an opportunity to arrest Li after the money and drugs exchanged hands, he wouldn't chance it—Live to fight another day kept repeating in his mind—but he would finally get some closure.

As he had two weeks ago at his house, Jack felt somewhere between resolve and relief. Only this time, he wouldn't be the one holding a gun to his head. It would be Li, though Jack tried convincing himself it would be Haniford's hand holding the weapon, as he was holding Jack’s life.

Brushing aside these thoughts, he maneuvered the Harley through Chinatown’s narrow one-way streets to Walter U Lum Place. He turned onto the street and stopped.

While usually bustling during the day, it was now dark and deserted. Even the homeless he'd seen here nearly a week ago had moved on.

The only light came from his headlamp, which reflected off the fallen cherry blossoms on the asphalt.

Jack's heart raced. He hadn't felt anxious on the ride over, but he was moving that direction.

He gently pulled back on the throttle and moved toward the front of Dragon’s Lair where he backed the bike in until the rear tire met the curb. The high beam swept the plaza, confirming its abandonment.

Jack inhaled sharply as he settled the bike before cutting the motor. Reluctantly, he switched off the light and sat listening to his surroundings. Except for the sounds of the busier streets echoing around the district, Walter U Lum Place was quiet and dark as the proverbial tomb.

Anxiety kicked up another notch. He was alone and the surrounding stillness emphasized the deep breaths he forced himself to take in order to keep his shit together.

Li's minion had said Friday at 10 p.m. He checked the time—10:07 p.m. Maybe the guy was late, though Jack didn’t take Li as a man who tolerated tardiness. Something sharp in the pit of his gut told him Li and his thugs stood within the darkened shop, watching him in the blackness and waiting for the right moment.

To do what?

He didn't know.

What am I doing?

The question should have been what wouldn't he do if it meant finding out what happened to Leah, even if it meant putting his life in danger for Haniford.

Bastard!

Why had Haniford thought it was a good idea to send him into this alone?

So what if Jack had already made a deal on his own with Li and would have ended up in a similar situation. Even just one undercover officer would have doubled his chances of survival. But being forced to do this alone, and by a man he had the utmost respect for, ate at every nerve in his body. The weight of the cut pressed him down in the saddle as much as the weight of the Beretta tucked into his jeans at his lower back.

Knowing he also carried fifty thousand dollars in his saddlebags made him feel more vulnerable here on the dark street.

Even if by some miracle he came out of this alive, if he lost the fifty grand and the drugs, Haniford would definitely put him in a cell. Jack wasn't sure if it was the chilly night air making him shiver just then, or the thought of going to jail over this bullshit.

The temperature dropped and, just then, the sky rumbled. Just what he needed. Storms were rare in the city, but when they came, they came big. He couldn't see the sky through the cherry trees, and it wouldn't be long until Portsmouth Plaza and all of Chinatown was wrapped in Karl's icy blanket.

"Mister Li say you come now."

Jack nearly jumped out of his skin at the whispered words behind him. "Jesus, man. Sneaking up like that is gonna get you killed."

The thunder grew louder. It was going to be one hell of a storm. The perfect weather for his last night on Earth.

Jack swung his leg over the saddle and stretched his back, took his time removing his gloves and stuffing them into a pocket, then unzipped the cut and the leather jacket.

The jacket Leah had given him was precious. If he was going down tonight, even if he didn't learn what happened to his wife, at the very least, he wanted the jacket on him, as if she protected him herself.

"You come," the minion said, stepping back and waving his hand toward the shop door. "Don't keep Mister Li waiting."

"Yeah, yeah." Taking a deep breath, he pulled the old saddlebags from across his gas tank and slung them over a shoulder. He wanted a free hand for his Beretta if it came to that, and if bullets suddenly started flying, he hoped the bundles of cash and the heavy leather would protect him, at least until he ran out of bullets.

As he stepped onto the sidewalk, the thunder grew louder and more consistent, more familiar. It quickly surrounded him as lights from the Washington Street end of Walter U Lum Place illuminated their way.

Jack's heart pumped hard.

What the hell's happening?