“They’re going to work their way through the courts. There’s a lot involved. It’ll be a long time before anyone sees justice,” she replied. Her second drink arrived and she took a quick sip, keeping the glass at her fingertips. “How about you?” she asked, leveling a look at him. “You look tanned, but tired.”

“Yeah, soon as I got back from Hawaii I caught a murder-suicide. The whole family, gone.”

“Was this the Taiwanese family?”

Jack nodded, taking a gulp from the bottle.

“It’s in the papers everywhere.” She shook her head. “How sad. You caught that case, huh?”

Jack nodded stoically, drained his bottle, and ordered a whiskey shot.

After two martinis, Alex slowly became unfocused, making a kamikaze dive into the no-pain zone. Jack downed the whiskey shot. He knew she’d needed to vent and he was glad he’d been available. He glanced at his watch, gave a credit card to the waitress, and put his arm across Alex’s shoulders.

“Thanks again for Hawaii,” he said.

“Least could I do,” she slurred.

Jack grinned. “Time to go, lady.”

The dark streets ran down toward Confucius Towers. Jack considered walking Alex directly to her apartment door, weighing it against the implication of escorting a tipsy, high-strung, and vulnerable woman going through a divorce, who was coming home to an empty apartment for the holidays.

The term she’d used, irreconcilable differences, came to his mind.

He was still considering as they reached the main gates of the Towers.

“Thanks,” Alex said firmly, pushing Jack away gently with her palms. “I’m okay from here.”

“Sure . . . ?” Jack asked. It appeared the night air had revived her.

“Sure. And thanks a lot.”

“For what?” Jack smiled.

“For listening.” She smiled back. “See ya,” she called as she marched toward the high-rise, swaying slightly as she went.

Jack watched until she was inside the guarded lobby, inside the elevator.

Turning away from the Bowery, Jack took a deep swallow of icy air and stepped off the curb between parked cars, looking for a taxi back to Brooklyn. He didn’t see any cabs at the corner. The light turned red.

Behind him, a dark form rolled up, and he recognized the low rumble of the engine even before he saw the black Riviera, running without headlights, boxing him in between the cars. Instinctively, he brushed his gun hand against the grip of the Colt.

He was not surprised when Tat Louie, one-time blood brother and now Ghost Legion dailo, came out of the back of the car.

“Hey, homeboy.” Lucky grinned. “I mean officer. Oh, I mean detective.”

“Keep it up, Tat,” Jack answered evenly. “If this car don’t move now, I got cause to look inside. Wanna bet I find a piece in there?” Now he grinned back. “Maybe on your big, ugly gorilla boy?” He shaped his hand like a gun, tapped the barrel finger against the tinted passenger window, imagining Kongo there.

Lucky’s smile turned into a sneer. He nodded at the driver’s window, and Lefty slid the Buick forward a body’s length. Lucky stepped up to Jack and they faced off between the parked cars.

Jack fired first. “What do you want, Tat?” He remembered that Internal Affairs had accused him of associating with known felons, of the extortion of Chinatown businessmen.

“You got news and I’m buying. Let’s talk, brother man.” Lucky lit up a smoke.

“We had that converation already,” said Jack, no patience on his face.

“Bullshit. You weren’t listening the last time. You didn’t wanna hear it. Just kept talking all that give up stuff. Your blue boyz took down Number Seventeen, and Fat Lily’s. But you know that. So what’s up, brother? Why are they targeting us? And then I find out you left the precinct. I thought you liked it here. Fight crime, all that.”

“Fuck you, Tat.”

“Aw, come on now. You know what? I think, inside, you like it here. You’ll be back. You’re the Chinese cop, remember? The new sheriff in town, gonna turn everything around. Ha, you think you make a difference? It’s Chinatown, man. Come on, give me a heads-up. I’ll help you make captain.”

“I don’t need the headache.”

“Right. You’d rather roll around in the gutter. You like to hang with those gwailo micks and guineas, with their stupid Chinaman jokes?”

“Kiss my ass.”

“Break it out then. You going gay-lo on me?” He smiled, softening his approach. “Look, what’s it take? I know, I know, money and pussy don’t interest you. You don’t like the bling-bling, the nice threads, the sexy cars?”

“You got nothing I want. If I needed all that, I’d get it on my own.”

“What the fuck? You think you’re gonna do twenty and get out? Then be a security guard somewhere?” Lucky hissed. “All I want is information. I ain’t asking you to get your hands dirty. Shit, you mean to tell me you’d rather side with the gwailos, man? You choose them fuckin’ mooks who used to laugh at us and call us chingchong wingwong ? Boy, you ain’t nothing but a Charlie Chan, hah.”

Jack didn’t take the bait, tossed it back at Lucky. “Here’s one for you, big boss. Lucky man. Your boys supposedly run the streets out here, right? Remember the warehouses down on Pike? The ones we used to run through? Well, someone’s busting rip-offs there. That used to be your turf, right?”

“Still is,” Lucky spat out, taking the bait.

“So that means . . . it’s your boys pulling the jobs?”

“Didn’t say that. And don’t try to punk me, kid. You ain’t made for it.”

“Maybe it’s not really your turf. Lots of Fuks and Dragons out here. Maybe they’re eating your dim sum again.”

“Ha ha, funny. You got jokes, son. But what’s it to you? You a partner?”

“Friend of mine got robbed. Any ideas?”

Lucky smiled, feeling the leverage shifting. “Not right now, Jacky boy. But let’s say I get a tip on a raid, or maybe, a surveillance setup. Or give me a heads-up, Whatcha gonna do when they come for you, bad boy? Maybe then something might occur to me, capisce ?” He chuckled at the wop word, backstepping to the black car. Before sliding inside, he said, “Give me a sign, Jacky boy. Give me a sign.”

“Get out while you can. It’s the last time I say it, Nothing I can do when they come for you . . .”

Jack could hear hyena laughter from inside the car as it growled and sped off, leaving a cold trail of vapor and smoke.

After a minute the night streets went quiet, and when the traffic light turned green again, Jack caught a yellow cab that took him back across the bridge.

Dailo’s Money

Sai Go stood inside the front vestibule of the OTB, just beyond the cutting wind that sliced inside each time anyone went in or out.

He kept a watchful eye on the streets that crossed Chatham Square, looking for the black car coming for the dailo’s cash in his pocket.

It was 1 AM in the dead of night.

In his mind he saw palm trees and Mickey Mouse, and a pack of gray dogs wearing numbers, yelping as they dashed around an oval track.

The Gold Carriage Bakery was promoting a Holiday Special to Disney World in Orlando, and Longshot Lee had signed on for the vacation junket along with two of the da jop, kitchen help. Chat Choy had called Sai Go and asked him to come along, saying Gum Sook also had committed to the trip and had brewed up a thermos full of special herbal tea for him.

They could all bet on the dogs together.

So he agreed, and they were off the next day. Meet early, get a few baos, and tea, before getting on the bus. Bring a few newspapers. He could sleep along the way if he felt tired.

The Special included a floor show with Hong Kong singers and dancers, and a Chinese lunch buffet the entire week.