Song stood and looked at him, blinking slowly. “Hmm.” She shrugged, as if she’d just been baiting him. “I have never heard you say so much at one time. It is enlightening. In any case, we should go and make ourselves more presentable. You are in desperate need of a haircut and I would appreciate a shower. All I packed for us was an assortment of T-shirts and underwear so we should stop somewhere and pick up some more suitable clothes. Big Uncle is a dangerous man with dangerous associates. It is much better that we meet him in a public place like this formal reception.”
Quinn closed his eyes and gave a low groan. Not because he was worried about Big Uncle or his dangerous associates. If this was a formal reception, he was going to have to put on a tie.
Chapter 51
Yaqub Feng did not become aware that he stunk until Big Uncle’s man behind the counter at a bank of elevators in the lobby of the downtown Seattle high-rise recoiled at his approach.
“The boss is expecting you,” the man grunted, scrunching his face in disgust. He was young, maybe twenty-five, and spoke with a directness peculiar to Chinese culture. “The boss is waiting on the nineteenth floor, but you will need to stop on eighteen for a shower and clean clothing. Mrs. Wang will help you find what you need.”
“We have no time to bathe,” Ehmet scoffed. “We came to get what is ours and move on.”
“Suit yourself,” the young gatekeeper said. “But you must be nose-blind if you do not smell yourselves. And you should know, the boss once shot a man for farting too close to him.”
“We will, of course, make the stop on eighteen first,” Jiàn Zŏu said, shouldering his way in front of Ehmet. Yaqub was startled at the sudden abruptness of the skinny snakehead. Ehmet’s face fell into a twitchy scowl.
“I can see that you are angry,” Jiàn Zŏu said, as they boarded the elevator.
“You won’t think it’s so funny when I stick a blade in your neck,” Ehmet said, leaning against the back corner. “People who speak to me that way do not live long.” The walls of the elevator were mirrored and Yaqub squirmed at so many scowling images of his brother
“Just because people are silent does not mean we smell of jasmine.” Jiàn Zŏu bounced slightly against his hands that were folded behind him. Yaqub did not think it was a nervous tic, but more of a way to restrain his hands from doing anything rash. “How do you think you smell? The whores in Dubrovnik were too terrified to tell you, but the stink of Dera Ismail Khan does not wash off with a wet cloth. You must learn to trust me, my friend. This is my livelihood.”
“I am not your friend,” Ehmet spat as the elevator chimed and the doors opened to the bright marble halls of the eighteenth floor. “You are an infidel who has likely served his purpose. It would do you well to remember that. A livelihood is pointless if you are dead.”
A smiling woman who was old enough to be their grandmother met them at the door with a stack of neatly folded white towels. As it turned out, half of the eighteenth floor was a gym, complete with rows of treadmills, exercise bikes, and sweating heathen women in obscenely tight clothing. Mrs. Wang ushered them into the men’s locker room, surprisingly following them inside, though there were a half dozen other naked Chinese men getting ready to work out. Jiàn Zŏu bowed slightly and whispered something to the old woman. She gave a wan smile, then nodded and took her leave.
His brother’s dark mood notwithstanding, Yaqub found the hot shower exhilarating. The clean jogging suit felt like silk compared to the rough prison clothing he’d been forced to wear for his endless months of captivity.
Fifteen minutes later, all three stepped out of the dressing room, smelling like shampoo and countertop cologne, to find they were alone in the gym with a man who had to be Big Uncle. The gangster boss had a broad, jowly face, common to well-fed bosses. He wore a charcoal-gray pinstripe suit and an orange silk tie. Not a tall man, he appeared to be plenty strong and the look from his dark eyes filled every corner of the room with an imposing presence. Yaqub found it uncomfortable to meet his eyes directly.
Jiàn Zŏu stepped forward, giving the man in the gray suit a subservient tip of his head. “We are so sorry to keep you waiting, sir.”
“My man said you were in a hurry,” Big Uncle said, with an apparent ease that belied the fact that he was one of the most powerful crime bosses on the West Coast. “I thought I would meet you here and save you the trouble of coming to me. My standing in the community is quite important to me. I am fairly new to the area, so I wish this first event to be beyond perfect. You understand.”
“Thank you for taking the time to meet with us,” Jiàn Zŏu said, bobbing his head again as if he was afraid he might anger the other man if he wasn’t subservient enough.
“It is no problem,” Big Uncle said. As secretive as the triad boss was supposed to be, Yaqub found it interesting that he was so open with three total strangers. “My people are busy making certain tonight’s event is up to standards. I am sure they are relieved that I stepped away to give them a few moments of peace.”
“We have showered away our filth as you required,” Ehmet said, shouldering his way forward to eclipse Jiàn Zŏu. “A certain item was delivered to you. We will require it at once.”
Yaqub froze, half expecting Big Uncle to clap his hands as a signal for his men to come in and murder them all for his brother’s abrupt behavior. He did not imagine anyone “required” much of anything from a man like Big Uncle.
Instead of having them killed, the triad boss tilted his head to one side, so far that his ear almost touched the padded shoulder of his suit, considering Ehmet for a long moment. Finally, he nodded and indeed clapped his hands. One of his men entered immediately. Instead of carrying a gun to kill them all, he brought in a hard plastic case, approximately a meter and a half long and half a meter tall. It was marked with a red peony blossom on either side, and three strong combination locks kept it closed.
Big Uncle gave a dismissive flick of his hand. “Your package,” he said. “You may have it when the agreed-upon amount is wired to my account.”
Ehmet snatched the mobile phone from Yaqub’s hands and sent a quick text. A confirmation tone came back almost immediately. Big Uncle shot a glance at his man, who made a call. A moment later, the man nodded.
“Very well,” Big Uncle said. “Our business is complete. Your item remains sealed, as it was when I received it.”
“I should hope so,” Ehmet said, drawing a quizzical look from Big Uncle’s man as he handed over the case. Ehmet passed it to Yaqub, who found it cumbersome but not too heavy to lift. He estimated it to be less than thirty kilos.
“Thank you, sir,” Jiàn Zŏu said. He didn’t exactly step in front of Ehmet, but it was enough to earn a hostile glare from the younger Feng brother.
Big Uncle stood, chuckling under his breath. “I find it extremely amusing,” he said, looking at Ehmet, “how this one is so angry. He does not seem to understand that your politeness and understanding of decorum is the only reason he is still alive.”
Ehmet opened his mouth to speak but Yaqub stepped in, asking some inane question about the box and the weapon.
“Please, my brother,” Yaqub whispered, leading Ehmet toward the doorway. “Let us be on our way. We have important work.”
“I will be a moment,” Jiàn Zŏu said, as they reached the door. It was too late for all three men to turn around without looking foolish, so the brothers continued toward the elevator, with Ehmet fuming at the snakehead’s usurpation of his power.