Smoke and Shadow (17 page)

The gang went
underground after the media attention of Ping
’
s trial, but they resurfaced in the
new decade with a more aggressive style. They stopped wearing wild
colors in their hair and adopted a clean shaven look. They
continued to use claw hammers and ice picks as their weapons of
choice, but they
’
d
also dipped into the black market to acquire everything from AR15
to AK47 rifles. They still made their money smuggling Chinese and
other Asians into America by boat, but they
’
d also branched out into money
laundering, extortion and sex slavery. Baker
didn
’
t know who
replaced Ah Kay as the head of the Fuk Ching, but he or she had a
lot more ice in their veins than Sister Ping ever
did.

Next, they turned to the physical
terrain to understand how the geography could both help and hinder
their efforts. The target building sat near the corner of Hester
Street and Ludlow, crammed between the last of the worn down
tenements and ultra-modern low rise condos trying to replace them.
The main floor housed a small restaurant called the Red Crane and
the basement had a storefront massage parlor with the same name.
According to official records, the building and both establishments
were owned by the same holding company. All the licenses and
permits were in order. According to Baker, the Red Crane was the
front for the slave trade. Patrons with the right connections and
enough cash could skip the fried rice and foot rubs and head
upstairs for more specialized services.

Trent sat at
Chu
’
s kitchen
table and gestured to the map pinned to the wall with his
chopsticks.
“
The
bad news is there
’
s a school right around the corner. The good news is we can
go in at night and eliminate the risk of child
casualties.
”

Chu checked
Google maps on his laptop and tipped a Beck
’
s to his lip with a free
hand.
“
I
’
m not
worried about the kids. I
’
m worried about the drunks.
There
’
s got to be
thirty to forty bars in a six block radius. Most of them
don
’
t close until
4 a.m. There
’
s
never going to be a time when the street will be clear of foot or
vehicle traffic. If this spills into the street,
we
’
re gonna have
bodies everywhere. The internet will know about it five minutes
later and we won
’
t
be able to hit Union Square before the whole area gets locked
down.
”

There was no
humor in Trent
’
s
laugh.
“
You
’
re being
optimistic, Smoke. The Fifth precinct is right there on Elizabeth
and there
’
s
another police station a few blocks away on Pitt. Not to mention
One Police Plaza is only about three minutes away with sirens on
and no traffic. Response times are going to be near zero with
helicopter and auxiliary support on both bridges. Spilling this
into the street is not an option.
”

“
So I think
it
’
s safe to say
this mission qualifies as FUBAR, even on paper.
”
Chu set down his bottle and shook
his head.
“
I don
’
t
want to see women forced to fuck, but this mission is more likely
to kill them than save them. I think we need to tell Baker this is
a no-go. Give him a chance to explore other options to get this
done.
”

Trent nodded in
false agreement.
“
It looks FUBAR on paper, but we don
’
t run ops on paper. We need to take
a look at the Red Crane on the ground. We might be able to see some
opportunities we can
’
t see on Google Maps.
”

“
What
opportunities do you think we
’
re going to see? The police stations
aren
’
t gonna move
farther away. All the bars won
’
t suddenly close. We know what
we
’
re going to see
based on the remote analysis. Taking a walk through will only
confirm what we already know.
”

“
Maybe, but if
we don
’
t do a
walkthrough, our evaluation is incomplete.
”
Trent stood up, grabbed some ice
from Chu
’
s freezer
and dropped them into his empty glass. He picked up the half empty
bottle of Elijah Craig and focused on pouring as he spoke.
“
Baker
’
s not going to abort a mission based
on the way it looks on paper. If you want to convince him,
we
’
re going to
need a complete analysis.
”

Chu and
contemplated tossing the empty bottle at his friend.
“
I know what
you
’
re trying to
do.
”

Trent held up his
hands in denial, but the smile on his face gave it away.
“
What?
”

“
You
don
’
t give a damn
about complete analysis and you
’
re not interested in shutting this
thing down. You just want us out in the field so you can fucking
laugh at me.
”

Trent started
laughing at him in the kitchen.
“
You
’
ve got to do it, Smoke.
It
’
s part of the
job.
”

“
Fuck
you.
”

“
Don
’
t be
like that. How many people get paid so much to piss in their
pants?
”

“
Fuck you with a
broken bottle.
”
Chu tossed the bottle underhand across the kitchen towards
Trent
’
s head. The
operator caught the projectile and kept on
laughing.

Homelessness gave Chu a special
kind of invisibility.

People saw him
sitting on the corner of Ludlow Street. The subconscious New York
radar of the frat boys, party girls and wannabe hustlers steered
them away from him without looking in his direction. A few of the
random partiers slumming it from uptown put money in his cup, but
guilt prevented them from looking into his face. One or two drunken
women managed to overcome their nervous revulsion and tried to
start a conversation with him. That
’
s when the stink of his urine soaked
clothing came in handy. The well intentioned women made a swift
exit on their high heels and no one was able to see
Chu
’
s face long
enough to identify him.

Chu did more to
complete his disguise than just sit on a street corner and pee on
himself. The three layers of clothes he wore were caked with mud
and grime until they attained the dull brownish gray of urban
poverty. His position next to a grimy dumpster made rats more
inclined to keep him company than people. Finally, several shopping
bags full of half eaten food and odd pieces of junk created a
barrier the members of polite society weren
’
t willing to cross. Like thousands
of other New Yorkers, Chu gained the ability to hide in plain sight
on a busy street corner in the middle of Manhattan. Unlike real
homeless people, Chu could go home and take a shower after he
finished his stakeout of the Red Crane.

The building and
surrounding area looked similar to the pictures
he
’
d seen online,
but the cover of darkness, the constant hum of liquor fueled
chatter and the energy of people in motion gave the scene life. Chu
watched the people come and go from the Red Crane, looking for
reasons to abort the mission.

He collected
information with his eyes, his ears and electronic tools to augment
his perception. Wedged between his threadbare coat and tattered
jacket he kept a waterproof, hands free DV micro camera. He kept it
trained on the front of the building, its one hundred and seventy
degree lens able to catch both doors and most of the street in
front. He only had about an hour and a half of battery life, so he
couldn
’
t leave it
on all night, and the camera wasn
’
t designed to zoom in, so he
couldn
’
t focus it
on faces or license plates, but the video it captured would
reinforce all the bad news Chu saw and heard for two chilly nights
next to the dumpster.

On the first
night, the Fuk Ching were out in force. The gang used
BMW
’
s as their
status symbols and Chu counted at least four different ones parked
in front of or around the Red Crane at various times of the night.
All the male drivers and passengers sported bald heads, steroid
induced broad shoulders and bad attitudes. Twice Chu saw a couple
of them come out of the massage parlor leading a young woman by the
arm. Neither of the women dressed like stereotypical hookers, but
the nervous look in their eyes and the identical backpacks they
carried raised questions for Chu. He didn't know if their bags held
massage oils or sex toys. He couldn't tell if they went to a
private outcall massage or sold to some sex maniac on a permanent
basis. He could only watch and wait.

One girl came back in a different
BMW a few hours later. Her hair was a tangled mess. She walked with
a limp and she clutched her arms around her body as if she was
trying to comfort herself. Chu felt his jaw clench at the thought
of the suffering she might have suffered. His anger became a pit in
his stomach when he realized the second woman never came back at
all.

The second night
of surveillance made things much worse. Around three in the
morning, when the crowds began to thin and the energy of the street
began to ebb, two men walked up to the Red Crane and into the
massage parlor. The basement business took its last official client
at eleven and closed at midnight. The sign on the door said
‘
We
’
re closed, please come
again
’
but these
two ignored the sign and the official hours. They
didn
’
t even bother
to knock. They walked right in, knowing the door would be unlocked.
They carried themselves like frequent customers.

Chu also noticed their look. Both
had their hair cut military short. Neither wore any jewelry. The
fanny packs hanging low across their stomachs offered the most
telling detail. The two new patrons to the club were
cops.

Chu captured all
of it on video when the men went into the Red Crane. He took their
pictures again when they came out of the restaurant three hours
later. Their faces were flushed and they carried the same smiles
Chu recognized from his early days of hooking up in the
men
’
s room of
Splash. They weren
’
t basking in the afterglow of a late night sesame chicken
feast. Chu forced himself to stay in position until the cops turned
the corner before he moved. The temptation to pack up and move was
hard to overcome. He finally understood why he had such a bad
feeling about this job. Now Baker would have to see it
too.

“
I really
don
’
t see any
reason to abort.
”

Chu rubbed his
eyes and fought the urge to bang his forehead on the steering
wheel. The three men sat in a car inching along in traffic going
downtown on Ninth Avenue, hidden among the throng of honking cars
trying to get to the Lincoln Tunnel at rush hour. Driving in a
bumper to bumper mess felt more soothing than listening to
Baker
’
s
rationalizations.

“
I mean, it all
makes sense, right? If the cops are patrons of the Crane, it
explains why the police won
’
t go in and raid the place. It could
also explain how the place can operate in the middle of three
police stations. I wouldn
’
t be surprised if the Crane
wasn
’
t common
knowledge for everyone working all three
precincts.
”