“So Giang gets his coke from Dúc?”

“No, Giang freelances that on his own. Dúc uses him more as an enforcer and to keep his girls in line. The two don’t hang together as friends. Giang uses a place called Lucky Lucy’s Bar and Grill as his base of operations. That’s downtown here in Vancouver, on Kingsway, close to The Asian Touch.”

“Any other hangouts?” asked Jack.

“There is also a restaurant close to Lucky Lucy’s called the Mekong Palace. The owner of the Mekong is a nice old guy. Doesn’t want these guys in there but doesn’t have much choice. If Giang is not at any of these places, he usually can be found hanging out with the other punks in Dúc’s gang at Billiard Bill’s out in Surrey. That place is just a block down the street from the Orient Pleasure.”

“I really appreciate this, Rocco.”

“No sweat. I’ll send a copy of everything we have on this group over to you. You need a hand with anything—surveillance, takedowns, you name it—give me a call. Day or night, doesn’t matter.”

“Sounds like you want him bad,” said Jack.

“I do. Dúc’s gang ... half of it is composed of juveniles, for Christ’s sake.”

“Their conscience isn’t as developed. They don’t think of the real consequences of their actions. Explains the extreme violence.”

“Yeah, and they’re more easily influenced and brainwashed ... and usually get probation. You catch Dúc and there’s a bottle of tequila in it for you.”

“Thanks. Actually I’ve switched to gin martinis.”

“Catch him,” said Rocco, “and I’ll be buying the gin.”

“No reward for Giang?” asked Jack.

Rocco chuckled and said, “What are you trying to do, bleed me dry? Giang’s not real smart. He’s been caught before. Unfortunately he’s smart enough not to cross Dúc.”

“Tell you what,” said Jack. “When I nail Dúc, you buy the gin and I’ll bring the vermouth. If I happen to nail Giang along the way, then you can bring the olives, too.”

“That’s a deal!”

The next week and a half went by quickly for Jack and Laura. They focused their energy by doing surveillance of the Russians while doing intermittent surveillance on Dúc.

Dúc had a routine of sleeping in late and then going to the Orient Pleasure for an hour over lunch. He would generally spend the rest of his day and evening at the Great Canadian Casino in Coquitlam. His skill as a gambler left much to be desired.

Surveillance of the Russians showed that they varied their sleep patterns. Sometimes they would appear early in the morning and go to a restaurant for breakfast. On these occasions, Jack surmised that they had not been to bed yet, or, at least judging by the escorts that left the building moments before they appeared, they had not been to sleep yet.

Other times the Russians would not appear until early afternoon, when they would go and drink espresso in different restaurants. At night, they would throw their money around at various nightclubs or go to more expensive restaurants. If they didn’t pick up any women at the nightclubs, they would often call an escort service when they returned to their penthouse.

Hang lay on her side on the foam mattress, staring at the calendar. Pops never shut the light off and she found herself switching her attention back and forth between the calendar and the chain and shackle at the opposite end of the room.

Now she felt so weak that she could barely move. Going by the large X marks that Pops penciled on the calendar each day, she had been there thirteen days. She had been given a plastic cup to drink water from out of the toilet tank. The only food she had been given was one loaf of white bread.

Her fingers had quit throbbing, but any attempt to move them brought immediate pain. The same went for her ribs and she had learned to take shallow breaths.

On the first night she was chained, Pops had returned and flung all her clothes and belongings at her. The room had a high humidity and at first when she wore her new coat she was too warm, but now she felt weak and shivered constantly.

Pops would see her for a few minutes each morning and again at night. Except for hurting her the first night, he had not actually touched her.

One night he dragged a garden hose through the passageway and said he was going to give her a shower. Despite the incredible shame she felt at undressing in front of him, her fear made her obey and she squatted obediently on the floor and tried to cover herself with her hands.

“You are a filthy, worthless little child,” he said. “No wonder your father gave you away,” he said as he urinated on her, before taking the hose and spraying cold water into her face.

Every time Hang heard the familiar creak of the passage door, she automatically cringed and drew her knees up into the fetal position as she waited for Pops to enter, mark the X on the calendar, and announce how many days were left until “red-circle day.”

Tonight was different. Pops shoved a large cardboard box ahead of him through the passageway opening and set it down out of Hang’s reach. The box was big enough that it could have held an object the size of a kitchen chair.

“There are special things in here for you,” said Pops. He marked another X on the calendar and said, “Things for red-circle days. As you can see, the first such day is tomorrow.”

Hang didn’t respond, but just stared at him from where she lay.

“What do you think is in the box?” asked Pops.

Hang continued to stare.

Pops tone turned to anger and he said, “Well, you’ve got twenty-four hours to think about it!”

Hang closed her eyes and, a moment later, she heard the creak of the door as Pops left her alone. She immediately got to her feet and got as close to the box as her chain would permit, but she was too far away to see inside it. She went back to her mattress, sat, and stared at the box.

What does it mean? She looked at the calendar again. Four more weeks and Linh will be here ... and I told her to come!

Hang cried in anguish. Eventually she caught her breath between sobs and looked at the calendar. Tomorrow is the first red-circle day. There are more circles later. What do they mean?

chapter seven

I t was eight o’clock at night when Jack and Laura saw the Russians return to one of their favourite restaurants.

Jack lowered his binoculars and said, “Table for two. Doesn’t look like they expect any company. Let’s knock it off and go home and introduce ourselves to our spouses.”

“Looking for a treat, are you?”

Jack chuckled and said, “Something like that.”

“Well, I figure we’re likely wasting our time out here at the moment.”

“Something is going on with these two,” said Jack. “Retired schoolteachers don’t have that kind of money to throw around. Not to mention they had the clout to meet with the top exec of Satans Wrath.”

“I’m not saying we shouldn’t work on them. I know the type. Whatever they’re involved in is big enough that they aren’t standing on the corner dealing ounces. Working on this type ... it’s always peaks and valleys.”

“And right now we’re in a valley,” said Jack. “What we really need is an informant. Someone on the inside.”

“Who and how?”

“Don’t know yet. Tomorrow I’m going to go to a bookstore. Start learning a little Russian and Vietnamese. Will help build a rapport if we do find someone to turn. Besides, it’ll give me something to read when we’re on surveillance.”

It was midnight when Jack glanced out of the ensuite bathroom just as Natasha was getting into bed.

“How good is your Russian?” he asked. “Could you teach me some?”

“With a name like Natasha Trovinski, how good do you think it is?”

“I don’t really know. I’ve heard you talk to your parents.”