“Like we’ve already said, if this plan of yours doesn’t work, you run the risk of starting a war that will spill onto the streets,” adds Chambers.
I nod. “Understood. Can you get me a copy of the file you have on the Red Dragon? On a USB flash drive or something?”
“I guess…” says Chambers, hesitantly.
“Good. How far away is Turner’s place?” I ask.
“He owns an apartment block about fifteen minutes from here,” says Johnson. “He lives on the top floor and runs his business from there.”
“Okay,” I say.
I reach across the table and move the black teleconferencing system closer to me. I dial the number and wait. The three agents look very nervous.
The call connects on the sixth ring, but no one speaks.
“Hello?” I say. “Who’s this?”
“Who you ring?” asks an abrupt voice.
“I’m looking for Jak Soo Yung.”
“And you are?”
“I’m the guy who took out three of his men in the hospital last night and sent some old guy back to him with a message to leave me alone.”
More silence, but I can hear some movement on the line, like the cell phone’s being handed to someone else. The crackling and commotion stops and someone else speaks.
“Who this?”
“I’m looking for Jak Soo Yung.”
“You found him… who this?”
His voice sounds young, but he speaks slowly and deliberately, like a man who answers to no one.
“You get my message from last night?” I ask him.
“Oh… so you dead man? Hello dead man.”
“Yeah, whatever… listen, I’ve changed my mind — I don’t want any trouble, alright? I’ve just got one last thing I need to do, then I’ll leave town and you’ll never see me again. Can we chalk this one up to experience and call it quits while I finish my business?”
There’s a lengthy pause.
“Price on your head…” says Yung. “One million, U.S. dollar.”
Chambers gasps and the other two look like they really feel for me being in this position.
“Is that it?” I ask. “I’m almost insulted… tell you what, how about I do you a favor and we call it quits.”
“No quits.”
“Fair enough, how about I do you a favor anyway? To show you I’m not a bad guy.”
He pauses. “Go on.”
“I’m in town on business. Got some debts to settle with a man by the name of Joseph Turner. I’m led to believe you’ve had dealings with him?”
More silence on the line, so I continue.
“He’s responsible for hurting someone close to me, and I’m aiming to take him down. I’ve already confronted him and I’ve discovered he’s actually undercover FBI… very quick to spill the beans about what business he does with you.”
“Bullshit,” says Yung.
“How do you think I got this number?” I ask.
No reply.
“I intend to kill him,” I say again. “Originally, I wanted to let you know as a courtesy, because of the business relationship between you. But when I found out he’s ratting on you and everyone else to the Feds, I thought I’d give you a head’s up. Figured maybe we can work something out.”
“You dead man. If what you say true, then Turner dead man too. No agreement.”
“Well, I tell you what — I’m going to be at Turner’s apartment block in forty-five minutes. I’ll gather up all the information he’s got on you, ready to hand over to the Feds, then I’ll give you a call back and we’ll see if we can reach an agreement then, yeah?”
“Who you think you are?” he asks. I can hear the anger in his voice, but he’s doing a good job of keeping calm.
“I’m Adrian Hell,” I say. “Look me up, asshole.”
I hang up and look at Chambers. “Okay, so who’s driving?”
11
The four of us are parked across the street from Turner’s apartment building. Wallis is behind the wheel, with Chambers riding shotgun. I’m behind her and Johnson is next to me in the back.
The building itself is on the corner of the block and looks pretty similar to what I'd expected. It’s ten stories of old, weathered, rust-colored brick. From where we are, we’ve got a clear view of the south and east sides.
The south side is basking in the morning sun, all the way to the roof. The sunlight’s reflecting off the glass in some windows and only serving to highlight the wooden curtains that are in the others. The entrance is on the east side, covered in shade. Outside, there’s a line of aluminum garbage cans, most of which are brimming over with trash. Just inside the doorway, I can see one guy standing, leaning against the wall.
Must be the doorman…
I lean forward to get a view of the top of the building through the car window. I need to talk my way up to the tenth floor, and engage Turner long enough that he might reveal something of some use about his previous customers.
“You sure about this?” asks Chambers.
“As sure as I can be,” I say.
“And you think Jak Soo Yung will take the bait and show up?”
“Definitely. He’ll have been skeptical about everything I was saying, but he’d have checked my name out after I’d hung up. He’ll believe me after that.”
“But what are you hoping to accomplish?” asks Wallis.
“With some luck and good timing on my part, I’ll be talking to Turner when the Red Dragon Triad arrives. They’ll come in force and, with a gentle push in the right direction from me, my plan is to get Turner and Yung to kill each other.”
“Jesus, we’re gonna lose our fucking badges for this,” mutters Johnson before leaning forward to look at Chambers. “And you’re alright with this?”
“No,” she says. “But time isn’t on our side and at least this way we’re not allowing Adrian to kill anyone himself. If an arms dealer and a Triad gang want to shoot it out between themselves where no innocent civilians can get hurt, I’m not going to complain.”
She turns in her seat to face me. “Wear this,” she says.
She produces an earpiece and a battery unit with a small microphone attached to it. I take it from her and toss it onto Johnson’s lap next to me.
“No fucking way am I wearing a wire,” I say. “Are you trying to get me killed?”
“That’s the deal,” says Chambers, shaking her head in protest. “If you’re going in there, you’re going in wired. If Turner does give you anything, I want it on tape, ready to present as evidence to the District Attorney.”
I massage my temples in frustration. “I’m guessing you’ve never tried to buy black market weapons before?” I ask her, rhetorically.
“Have you?” asks Johnson, smirking.
“I exercise my right to remain silent,” I reply to him, before looking back at her. “First thing they’ll do is pat me down to check for weapons. Next, they’ll wand me to check for any electronic equipment. If this guy’s the big player you make him out to be, then show him some more respect. If I put this on, I’ll have a bullet in my head before I can take three paces inside that building, plain and simple.”
She sighs and turns around, unhappy.
“What’s the name of the other weapons dealer you dismissed for this?” I ask.
“His name’s Mickey Cartwright,” says Chambers, without turning round again. “He’s small time. Has a few counts of possession to his name, and he's suspected of supplying small arms to local dealers. Nothing major. Why?”
“Because I’m going to use him as an excuse for being here.”
“How will we know if you need back-up?” she asks.