“What the hell does that mean, detective sergeant?”
“Just what I said.”
Ryker imagined Jericho hunched over his desk, beads of sweat dripping off his nose, dark stains growing under his armpits. This would go all the way up to the commissioner and all the way back down to Jericho. Ryker derived malicious satisfaction from the situation.
“All right,” Jericho said. “Report your progress every hour. That’s every hour, you got that?”
Chee Wei made a hard right turn that made Ryker lean in his seat. There was no sign of the Mercedes.
“Got it, captain. Over and out.” Ryker ended the call and made a jerk off motion with his hand. Chee Wei grinned. They cruised through two intersections, slowing at each to look both ways. As they passed a third Ryker caught a glimpse of the Mercedes’ tail vanishing around a corner. The Crown Vic leapt ahead. They approached a set of traffic lights. Ryker expected them to turn red but they held long enough for them to proceed without killing a whole bunch of civilians and making the six o’clock news.
At the next intersection they were fractionally ahead of the Benz, two streets down and running parallel. Chee Wei whistled through his teeth as he spun the wheel and took them on an intercept course. He swerved around a delivery truck, slowed to allow a sedan to park at a meter, then he was off again. The Mercedes flashed past up ahead. A Chinese woman waiting to cross the street stared at Ryker, who judged her age at somewhere around two hundred and three. Stores and restaurants garishly proclaimed their identities in Chinese. Ryker considered making a wok the dog joke but thought better of it while Chee Wei was in combat pilot mode.
Chee Wei took a left, cruised down a narrowing street, squeezed by a delivery van and turned right into an alley, narrowly missing a man who had to take a long step to avoid a broken pelvis. He shook his fist in Ryker’s side mirror. The Crown Vic splashed through puddles, sending spray against the walls on either side. White sheets hung from washing lines above. Chee Wei hit the brakes and stopped just after a narrow alleyway that gave them a momentary glimpse of the back of a nondescript building, and the black Benz whose occupants were climbing out, the three Chinese and the Caucasian, a powerfully built man with a goatee and a crew cut. Chee Wei unlocked his belt, opened his door and climbed out. Ryker climbed out and joined him.
“They went inside,” Chee Wei said over his shoulder. “They look like rented apartments. Wonder who owns them? Might be able to tell us who lives there.”
Ryker said, “Forget it, Jake. It’s Chinatown.” They both chuckled at the old joke. But there was a serious side to the saying, too. Trying to track down a Chinese landlord would prove nigh on impossible, Ryker knew, and for the landlord to be willing or able to supply the names of his tenants was even less likely. With apartments like these rent was paid in cash and no questions asked. Non-payment would result in immediate eviction, no argument accepted.
“So what do we do?” Chee Wei said. “Just wait here?”
“Unless you’ve got any better suggestions.” Ryker certainly didn’t. For all he knew, the Caucasian and the three Chinese were visiting a brothel.
A Chinese girl with blue highlights in her hair and wearing a black leather jacket and knee-length boots stepped out of a doorway near the corner of the building and walked quickly away, her head bowed as she cradled a cell phone to her ear.
“She’s hot,” Chee Wei said. “Why isn’t she calling my number?”
Ryker smiled but dismissed the girl from his thoughts, until she turned to look back toward the building and he saw the fear etched in her young-old face as she spoke rapidly into her cell phone. Her gaze flicked from the building onto Ryker and Chee Wei. She stared at them blankly for long seconds before she turned away and broke into a run.
“Got her,” Chee Wei said, running back up the alley like an Olympic sprinter. Ryker kept his eyes on the Mercedes and the building. And before he knew it, his thoughts turned to Valerie Lin. He wondered idly why he even bothered thinking of her; there was no chance that she would even deign to give him the time of day under normal circumstances. And he was convinced the last thing on her mind would be fucking the horny white guy who’d dropped by to tell her that her husband was dead.
Chee Wei reappeared with the blue-haired girl, who stopped struggling and shouting in Chinese when he shoved his badge into her face. Her eyes crossed in almost comical surprise. He had her cell phone. Ryker crossed the alleyway and repositioned himself so he could still watch the Mercedes, while listening to what they were saying.
“Talk English! Where do you think you are, a shit boat in Hong Kong harbor?”
“Big-shot cop!” she snarled back. “So what are you, third, fourth-generation cocksucker?” She threw Ryker a distasteful look. “Working for a white. You wash his laundry too?”
Chee Wei slapped her. She put a hand to her cheek and glared at him. “Who were you calling?” he demanded. She tried to snatch the phone out of his hand but he was too fast for her, jerking it away again and again, enjoying her rising anger. “Are you deaf? I said, who were you calling?”
“My girlfriend. She eats me out better than you ever could. Give me back my phone, I paid good money for it, it’s mine.”
“What’s your name?” Ryker said.
She stared at him, weighing him up. “Suzy.”
He didn’t believe her, but that didn’t matter. “Tell us what we want to know and you can leave, Suzy. We’re not busting you. We just want to know why these guys are here.”
“How should I know?” She tried to pull away from Chee Wei but he had a firm grip on her leather jacket. “Let me go. I’ve done nothing wrong.”
Ryker held out his hand and Chee Wei gave him the phone. It was a different make from his but the menus were the same. He checked the last outgoing call. “Who’s going to answer if I press the button?”
“I called wrong number. They told me to fuck off, never call again.”
“You should be on television,” Chee Wei said. He let go of her and held up his hands, palms outward. “I didn’t want you to run away, that’s all.”
She rubbed her shoulder. “Big-shot cop. You like to treat girls rough? Hit them around?”
“Maybe I don’t like being called a cocksucker.”
Ryker offered her the phone. She hesitated, as if wary he’d play the same game as Chee Wei, but he let her take it. She slipped it into her purse. “Who did you call?” he asked.
He gave her time to consider the question. “They’re looking for a friend. She used to come here.”
“You tried to warn her?”
“She didn’t answer. I left a message.”
“You rent one of these apartments?” Chee Wei asked.
“No….”
“Then who does?”
“Just a couple of guys I know. We party sometimes.”
Ryker would have pressed her for more information but at that moment the big guy and the three Chinese emerged from the building and climbed back into the Mercedes. Ryker was torn between running for the car and following them, and going into the building to talk to whoever might be in there. He chose the latter, following his gut instinct that there was more to this than Suzy was prepared to reveal.
“They’ve gone,” he said. “You can go back inside now.”
“I got other things to do right now. Maybe later.”
Ryker took her gently by the arm and walked her to the building. She resisted at first, then gave in, realizing it wouldn’t do any good. Chee Wei followed them, grinning. The Mercedes was long gone. Suzy led the way along a short, dark hallway. Steps led up to the second floor. A door lay ajar. Lights were on inside. Suzy hesitated, then took a deep breath and called out, “Roger? You okay?”
“Who’s there?” a high-pitched voice said from inside the apartment. The door opened and a middle aged man with wavy blond hair stared blankly at Ryker and Chee Wei. He wore a beige silk shirt and held a bloody handkerchief to his nose. “Suzy, darling. We were wondering where you’d got to. One moment you were here…who are these friends of yours?”