Dangerous Times (14 page)

He knew the measurements of a twenty
thousand dollar packet of worn, dog-eared bills…the interior
dimensions of the suitcase…

Christ sake, 9, 10 million dollars, Frank
computed.

Chapter
38

Frank crossed the main room, by-passed the
four mah-jongg players and entered the far cabin. He shut the door
behind him and stood in shadow. Kind of eerie, he thought, eyes on
someone backlit in silhouette.

The figure turned and Frank was hit with a
blaze of light.

“Sorry,” she said to him, lifting a hand to
cover the surgeon’s headlamp she wore. She sidestepped, uncovered
the light and directed it downward.

In its brightness lay Eddie Jones. Christ
sake, Frank said to himself. The drug lord was facedown on a
massage table, totally naked, and his body sparkled as if strewn
with diamonds.

Frank approached the table. Acupuncture
needles, he realized, some of them stuck in Eddie’s buttocks.

“Frank,” sighed Eddie Jones. “My eyes have
weakened with age. Please forgive our dramatic lighting.”

“That’s all right,” Frank smiled. He
discerned the smooth skin on the old Chinese face and tried to
guess how many lifts it had been through.

“Yes,” Eddie grinned. “Anchored off the
coast of Malaysia I invited a most prominent cosmetic surgeon
aboard.” Eddie’s spidery fingers combed through his long wispy
white hair. “What is your opinion of his talent?”

Mind reader, Frank warned himself. “You’re
looking better than ever,” he said, which was the truth.

Frank watched the acupuncturist work the
needles, her face masked in shadow behind the light she wore.
Wondering who she was, it didn’t surprise him to hear the answer
coming from the mind reader:

“My niece, May Kuan; your wife’s cousin. I
presume you have had the pleasure of May’s acquaintance?”

“Oh yes, we’ve met before,” Frank smiled
toward the light. “Thing’s have been good for you, May?” he asked
her.

“Very good, thank you,” she responded
warmly.

Lowering his eyes Frank could make out the
pantsuit she had on. Thinking it too bad May wasn’t in a skirt,
recalling the one and only time they had met. Legs like his wife’s.
Legs to die for.

A trait Frank attributed to the
Asian-European breeding that had gone on in the Jones family—or
whatever the family’s real name was. Something not even Frank’s
wife seemed to know.

“May has graduated Boston University School
of Medicine,” Eddie reported proudly.

Frank congratulated her, then said, “They
teach acupuncture?”

“Yes,” she said politely, “if you choose to
take it as an elective.”

“Mmm,” Frank sounded, trying to show some
interest.

Eddie said, “You wish to use the gym before
your drive to Phoenix?”

Frank was thrown by the question. “No, I
hadn’t planned on it.”

The old eyes on the old Chinese face drifted
toward a corner of the cabin.

Christ sake, Frank hadn’t noticed him over
there in the shadows. Da Shan; the Asian giant seated in a big
custom-made chair, Frank’s satchel on his lap.

“Change of clothes,” Frank said lightly, “in
case I get sprayed in the speedboat.”

“Of course,” Eddie yawned. “The gift I
presented you with,” he inquired with exhaustion. “Have you found
it useful?”

“Absolutely.” Frank glanced at May Kuan,
unsure if he should go on about the gift.

She caught the glance under her light and
read the hesitation. “You can speak freely,” she said.

“Russian PSS is a mighty fine piece of
work,” Frank told Eddie, “the built-in silencer a definite
plus.”

“Excellent,” Eddie said. Then perked up as
he continued with, “Have you met my two sons?”

“Saw them in the counting room. Only other
time was at my wedding.” Frank threw May Kuan a smile, remembering
her at the reception, her sexy moves on the dance floor.

“It was unfortunate I was unable to attend,”
Eddie said. “Your government has an irrational dislike for me,” his
rare laughter then heard by Frank and May Kuan.

“As for my sons,” Eddie went on, “they have
graduated Harvard law school. Both are now lawyers in New York
City.”

“Really?” Frank said. “Quite an
achievement.” Thinking the New York bar could always use a couple
of more killer lawyers.

“Yes,” Eddie smiled ironically, “there is a
note of humor to it.”

Christ sake, read his mind again.

“I am grateful May and my two sons have
taken the time to visit with me,” Eddie said. “Loyalty is a
treasure. And for your loyalty,” he added, “I have instructed my
two sons to issue you an extra packet for conducting your usual
errand.”

“One on top of the regular one,” Frank
beamed for show, erasing from mind the image of forty thousand
peanuts.

“Thank you,” he said to Eddie. Then watched
May Kuan twirl yet another needle into the human pincushion.

“You are well worth it,” sighed Eddie Jones,
closing his tired old eyes.

Chapter
39

Ty Kim Moore sat alone in the living room of
her West Los Angeles home. Hers and Frank’s. The two-bedroom house
a gift from Uncle Eddie.

Good ol’ Uncle Eddie, Ty thought as she put
her feet up on the coffee table. Her robe slipped open and her legs
brightened under the glare of the TV.

“Forgot to shave ‘em,” she said to the
screen. Pressing the remote, the time appeared: 11:45. Better shave
‘em now, Ty told herself. Frank would be callin’ sometime after
midnight.

If he calls.

If he gets away with it.

If he doesn’t run off without her.

Bastard thinks she’s stupid, huh? Yeh, Ty
grinned. Leaves her in the lurch, we’ll see who the stupid one
is.

Her eyes went to a framed photo on the
mantel. Her parents frozen in time, hand-in-hand while on one of
their trips to Paris. The only thing in the house Ty would be
taking with her.

If he calls…

She dropped her legs off the coffee table,
slouched deep into the sofa and reminisced about her mother and
father. Her father, French. Her mother, Chinese, the youngest of
Uncle Eddie’s sisters.

They had met in New York’s Chinatown.
Married 10 months later, they took a place in Brooklyn. Where Ty
was born and raised.

She flashed on the old neighborhood. Hangin’
out with her girlfriends…yeh, uh-huh, she smiled wistfully.

Ty’s smile vanished as her parents came back
to mind. French father becoming a U.S. citizen at 32. Then working
in customs at JFK International; promoted to Chief Inspector at age
42.

Ty sat up, bent forward and put her head in
her hands. Thinking of when her father used his connections at the
Justice Department. He had always despised his drug lord
brother-in-law and finally had the chance to do something about
it.

Yeh, uh-huh, Ty remembered; that’s how Uncle
Eddie became a fugitive from justice.

Ty came close to tears. While her Mom and
Dad were in Paris—no way for Eddie to know his sister would change
her plans and get into the car with her husband.

Murdered Ty’s mother and father. Murdered
his own sister. How ya make up for a thing like that, Ty asked
herself. Be generous to their kid, that’s how.

Thanks for the house and monthly allowance
Uncle Eddie.

‘Nother one who thinks she’s stupid, Ty
frowned. Like everybody else taken in by the terrorist story, the
way Eddie had made it look.

Ty might not have known the truth if it
hadn’t been for her cousin, May Kuan. “Slobberin’ and carryin’ on
while spillin’ what she’d overheard,” Ty said to the photo on the
mantel.

All the time prob’ly gettin’ a lotta
pleasure out of it, she scowled. Prissy Doctor May Kuan…she’d
always been jealous of Ty, because of the prize Ty had won.

Frank—some prize.

Four, maybe five million, he’d said. Not
quite enough to make up for what Uncle Eddie did. But it would have
to do.

Yeh, uh-huh.

Ty left the sofa and went barefoot into the
bathroom. In her robe in front of the mirror she didn’t like what
she saw.

Her hair, black as ink, fell straight to the
shoulders. It had no curl, no body to it. And her cheekbones were
too high; gave her a gaunt look, she thought.

And the eyes. Too big, too dark. “Frank’s
right,” Ty said to her reflection, “ya look like a starvin’ teddy
bear.”

She opened her robe. Good nipples, she
nodded, but the breast’re too small. She cupped her hands under
them without having to push them up; they stood just fine on their
own.

Yeh, she smiled sideways, ‘cause they’re too
small.

The worst of it was that she was Eurasian.
Nowhere near the American male’s silver-screen dream. Oh sure, they
liked to spend time inside her; but not with her, Ty recalled from
her unmarried youth.

So why did a handsome guy like Frank fall
for her, she asked herself. He hadn’t, she answered herself. It was
her link to Uncle Eddie that he’d fallen for.

Yeh, uh-huh.

Hell with it, Ty nearly cried. Shave the
legs, she told herself, and she opened the medicine cabinet. She
took her electric shaver out and saw Frank’s straight razor, pearl
handle aglitter.

Ty paused, thinking it strange that he had
left it behind. And just as strange was his habit of shaving the
old-fashioned way. ‘Cause it was a hand-me-down from his
gran’father, Ty reminded herself.

But Frank forgetting the razor didn’t make
sense to her. Their plan was to disappear with the money, never to
return here.

Must’a just forgot it, she reasoned. She
would take it with her and give it to him—if he doesn’t run off
without her.

Okay, Ty said to herself. Two things to
remember: parents’ photo and Frank’s razor.

She took hold of her pre-shave lotion,
stepped into the bathtub and sat at its edge. Spreading the lotion
over her legs she recalled the first time she had met Frank. The
night she and her girlfriends went into Manhattan to try out a new
dance club. Frank was the manager.

Best lookin’ guy she’d ever seen, Ty
remembered. Conceited bastard is how she saw him now.

“Yeh, uh-huh,” she muttered under the hum of
the shaver. Wouldn’t put it past him to leave her in the lurch.
Well, if there was one thing she’d learned from him, cover
yourself.

That’s exactly what Ty was going to do.
Finish up her legs, get dressed, and then get over to Frank’s love
nest. Stay parked and hidden, phone in her purse.

For the past two months Ty had been
following her husband. Three of those times she had seen him leave
the bitch’s house with her. Young pretty girl with red hair.

That’s why Ty didn’t give Frank the extras
in bed anymore. Let’im have his bitch, she sneered. Wait ‘til he
steals the money from Uncle Eddie, then kill’im and grab the whole
bundle for herself.

Okay, that’s 3 things to take with her:
parents’ photo, phone, and her .38—fuck Frank and his damn
razor.

Stay hidden outside the redhead’s place, Ty
planned. Frank calls, answer in the car and go meet’im. He don’t
call, wait and see if the bitch leaves. If she does, one or two in
the morning, she’d hafta be goin’ to meet’im. Follow her to Frank
and kill the both of ‘em.

We’ll see who the stupid one is.

Done with her legs Ty splashed them clean
with bathwater. She towel-dried them and thought for sure that her
legs were the best looking thing about her.

Wear the three-quarter length coat, she
decided while bringing her legs out of the tub. Short black dress
and high heels. Show the legs, keep the male brain off the small
breasts and starvin’ teddy-bear face.

Heading for the bedroom Ty was startled by
the ring of the house phone. She padded quickly into the living
room, thinking it too early for Frank to be calling—or maybe
not.

Lifting the phone she prayed it was him.
Calling her meant he was dumping the redhead. Make it easier to
kill him and grab the money.

“Hello,” she answered with a rush of
anticipation.

“Sorry to disturb you at this late hour,”
said a squeaky voice. “This is Nurse Betty Ruiz calling from San
Pedro’s Little Company of Mary Hospital.” She said, “Your number
was the only one stored in our patient’s phone. Are you a friend or
relative of a Mister Frank Lester Moore?”

“Yeh, I’m his wife,” Ty said weakly, and her
mind went into a tailspin of confusion.

Chapter
40

Frank sat at the stern of the inboard,
satchel on his lap. Looking back he watched the lights of the
moored yacht recede into the fog.

He turned forward, toward Gim San seated up
front at the wheel. His broad backside blocked Frank’s view of the
instrument panel. Frank thinking bigger the body, bigger the
target.

He slid the satchel from his lap and set it
on the cushioned seat alongside him. At his other side sat Mon
Lew.

Mon Lew lifted the collar of his coat and
shivered in the dampness. Frank gave him a sympathetic nod. The
bodyguard’s lips formed what Frank guessed to be a smile.

Christ sake, why Eddie’s men couldn’t learn
English…that’s all right, Frank thought. It was time to say goodbye
to the emperor and his thick-necked army.

The speedboat raced through the midnight
fog. Seawater sprayed over Frank’s coat sleeve. He wiped it and
rubbed his hand dry on the satchel’s cushion.

He gazed at Gim San at the wheel, then
lowered his eyes to the suitcase strapped to the inboard housing.
Ten million, he grinned…hearing the wail of the engine, the slap of
the bow against the choppy water.

Frank gripped his stomach to show Mon Lew
that he had become seasick. About to heave, he turned his back on
the bodyguard and hung his head over the stern.

Mon Lew shifted away from him, unaware of
Frank’s arms crossed over the front of his coat. Unaware of the
dark metallic eye that stared out from under the camelhair
sleeve.