City of Strangers (Luis Chavez Book 2) (20 page)

“I know that guy,” she said.

Ushering Luis to a concrete ramp leading into the warehouse, she waved down one of the men.

“Hey, you deliver to my clinic, right?” she asked.

The young man, who’d been pulling on beers with his friends, rose from an upturned bucket and eyed her through the dark.

“Yeah, that’s me,” he said. “What’re you doing down here?”

“My boss has the place locked up tight because of the SARS scare,” Susan lied. “But patients need their pills. People are getting sick without them. I just wanted to grab a couple of boxes from our supply.”

The deliveryman looked skeptical.

“Who’s this?” he asked, nodding to Luis.

“He’s helping me with home visits.”

Luis waited for this to be the deal breaker. Then Susan peered at the young man.

“Didn’t you
 . . .
didn’t you used to live on Woosung?” Susan added. “In Yau Tsim Mong District.”

“Um, yeah, I did,” the deliveryman said, surprised. “How’d you know that?”

“I grew up on Kwun Chung,” she said. “I thought you looked familiar the other day.”

“Yeah, that’s me. Jordan, huh? Small world.”

“Small world.”

She waited. He finally nodded to the warehouse. “Make it fast. Seriously.”

“You got it,” she said, flashing him a winning smile.

Luis followed her in, not missing the fact that the other three workers drinking with the young deliveryman were watching them like hawks.

God, please guide us in our search and let us be fleet of foot.

The warehouse was a dimly lit labyrinth. To make things even worse for Luis, much of the writing was in Chinese
hanzi
. He looked around for anything with the Bumblebee label on it, but there was nothing.

“Is this something?” he asked, discovering a box that looked likely.

“Party favors for a kid’s birthday,” Susan replied. “Try again.”

Luis kept moving, staying in a state of prayer, hoping for divine inspiration, but nothing presented itself. A few of the boxes were open, others had silhouettes of what was contained inside printed on the exterior (cutlery, headphones, etc.), but no boxes of drugs.

So it was with relief that he heard Susan’s cry from the back of the warehouse.

“Here we go,” she announced.

Luis hurried over to find Susan in a valley of cardboard boxes piled high over her head. On both sides he saw nothing but the now-familiar Bumblebee Vigor label. The labels indicated a broad range of contents, but they were all pills.

“What now?” Luis asked.

“Look for the shipping forms,” Susan said. “See if you can tell which factory they came from or ship they were on.”

Luis nodded and turned the boxes over, looking for anything that fit the bill. When he found nothing on the boxes, he noticed a nearby pallet still wrapped in cellophane, with its forms in a folder taped to the side. He tore off the packet, saw they were written in Chinese, and took them to Susan.

“Bingo,” she said, sifting through the pages. But just as quickly her countenance darkened. “Wait, this doesn’t make sense. These forms are for export, not import. Where did you find them?”

Luis walked her to the pallet. Together they tore through the cellophane and opened a few of the boxes, discovering not Bumblebee Vigor pills in these, but ones featuring the red letters of Fanrong.

“I thought those were only available in Indonesia,” Luis said.

Susan looked over the forms again. “They are.” She picked up one of the boxes and read the label. “It says they were manufactured in China. So what are they doing all the way over here in Los Angeles?”

Luis didn’t have an answer. At least not immediately. But then something on the packing boxes caught his eye. He picked it up and turned it over.

“Those pills were packed here,” he said, handing over the box. “Look at the bottom. The shipping boxes say they’re in inches and made by a box company outside Fresno. It’s in English.” He pulled down a box of party favors nearby and turned it over. “This shipping box is sized in metric, and the thickness is completely different. Also, the writing’s in Chinese.”

“But why would the triad import these to America, only to then export them back to Indonesia?” Susan asked.

And that’s when it all came together in Luis’s mind. He saw the whole scheme from beginning to end. Even so, he couldn’t quite believe it.

“Everything I read said that all these crackdowns force the counterfeit pharmaceutical manufacturers to close up shop and move somewhere else each time,” Luis said. “What if this time they came to America?”

Susan gasped. “That’s why Father Chang brought those pills back from Indonesia. He was trying to prove they were coming from here. That’s what got him killed.”

There was a sound from the other side of the warehouse. Two vehicles squealed to a stop, and several car doors opened and slammed shut, followed by volleys of loud Mandarin going back and forth between the workers and the new arrivals. Susan blanched and nodded to Luis.

“Time to go.”

They hurried away from the pallets of pills as the lights all went on overhead.

Lord, please help us to—

“Whoever you are, stop right there, or we’ll shoot on sight!” barked an angry voice now in English. “You are trespassing, and we are well within our rights.”

Too late.

XX

The next command was for Susan and Luis to emerge with their hands held high. After a moment’s reluctance the pair was prodded forward by a gunshot as a bullet was fired into the ceiling.

“Now!” came the command.

Luis nodded to Susan and led them out from the boxes. The new arrivals were eight young men, most barely in their twenties. They were skinny, well dressed, and held automatic weapons. The workers, including the deliveryman Susan had charmed, were long gone. Like the men in the casino, these fellows seemed to be the triad’s version of
sicarios
. Whereas in some organized crime cultures, hit men made sure to fade into the background, in the cartel world they were the flashiest dressers and stood out, as if to dare anyone to take a shot. Luis figured the same might be true of triads.

“Another priest?” their leader said. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“And I’m a doctor,” Susan announced. “What’s that in currency for you?”

“Not a thing,” the young man said. “Get out of there. We’re taking you to the office.”

“To call the police?” Susan asked.

“Of course. This is a place of business. We’re security guards. Who else would we call?”

But the sneer in his voice suggested the opposite was true.

The warehouse’s office was tiny, but there were two faux-leather-backed swivel chairs that were perfect for Susan and Luis to be dropped into, their arms zip-tied to the armrests and their ankles zip-tied together. The young man indicated for two of his crew to keep watch as he stepped out and made a call.

“You know what’s going on here?” Susan asked the two gunmen. “That outbreak? The SARS? It’s coming from those pills down there.”

The gunmen eyed each other for a second, decided this wasn’t true, and turned their attention back to looking impassive.

“It’s true. You’ve got SARS right here in your warehouse. All I’m trying to do is save your lives.”

Luis admired Susan’s guts but didn’t think these guys had the authority to do anything with the information she was filling their heads with. He prayed silently, but not for his or Susan’s freedom. Rather, that if any of the pills in the warehouse below were tainted, his intervention tonight might keep them from killing anyone else.

The leader of the young men ducked his head back into the office and looked from Susan to Luis. “The police are running a little late, but I have a friend coming. He’ll want a word.”

They waited twenty minutes. The two gunmen at the door got noticeably bored, but Luis wasn’t about to give them the excuse to shoot him down right there by making a break for it. He glanced to Susan and was glad to see that she seemed to favor the same course of action. When the headlights of another vehicle flashed through the office window before going dark, Luis felt goose bumps rise on his arm.

What if he just shoots us as intruders? Am I ready to see you, O Lord? Is my mission here on earth complete?

The young leader of the “security guards” entered with a middle-aged man wearing a suit. He was tall and gaunt and also Chinese. He looked from Susan to Luis’s collar and then to the pile of blister packs the leader had dropped on a nearby desk. The young man spoke to him in Mandarin for a moment, but the newcomer waved him away.

“Leave us alone,” he said, nodding to the gunmen as well.

The lead guard looked surprised, even perturbed, but the middle-aged man insisted. Once the room was empty save for him, Luis, and Susan, he closed the door and introduced himself.

“I am Zhelin Qi,” he said. “You can call me Tony. I apologize for Billy. He can be overzealous. It’s a touchy time right now. There’s been a lot of negativity toward Asians in the press here and we’ve come under siege a bit.”

“So what?” Susan shot back. “You thought we were saboteurs or something?”

Tony raised a silencing hand. “Yes, but you were here in our warehouse under ridiculous and patently false pretenses. You had in your possession these pills, which, to any officer of the law, suggests drug-seeking behavior. If you were junkies, we can be forgiven for fearing you might be violent.”

Tony sat back. Luis could tell he felt comfortable. He didn’t like that.

“Two of those men are carrying fully automatic assault rifles with high-capacity magazines, both illegal in California,” Luis said. “These zip ties? That’s illegal detention. Meaning: kidnapping. Those pharmaceuticals out there? We have reason to believe they’re mislabeled and their customs forms forged in some way. We’d get misdemeanor trespassing
maybe
with intent. Even if you talk your way out of discharging an illegal weapon, you’re still looking at a string of penalties that gets worse the more verbal and implied physical threats you make. So keep talking.”

Tony didn’t reply for a long moment as he seemed to regard Luis with new eyes.

“What’s your name?” Tony asked.

“Father Luis Chavez. I’m a priest at St. Augustine’s parish.”

“I don’t know it,” Tony said, turning to Susan. “And you?”

“Dr. Susan Auyong. I’m a doctor at Go Fuck Yourself.”

Tony nodded as if he’d somehow expected her to say this. He extracted a blade from his pocket and sliced through the zip ties. As soon as he was free, Luis got to his feet. Tony, however, raised a hand indicating for him to stay seated.

“I
 . . .
I think we can help each other,” Tony said, reaching into his coat pocket. “In fact, I’m sure of it. You see, you may have been here for the same reason I was on my way here this evening.”

He took the box of Jun’s prenatal vitamins out of his pocket and handed them to Luis.

“Is this a part of it?”

Luis took the box and tapped the Jiankang label. “What do you know about this company? At least, their operations in Los Angeles?”

“In China they’re huge,” Tony said. “But here they’re just one more minor manufacturing concern. They have two warehouse-sized facilities just off downtown. I think they make toys. Cheap stuff like little plastic saxophones and pianos.”

Luis handed the box back to Tony. “If I’m right, they’re making a lot more than that.”

Michael flipped through the list of addresses, but his eyes refused to focus for some reason. The street names that on any other day would be as familiar as his own socks and shoes looked like references to faraway planets. Maybe it was the hour, the comedown from the amount of caffeine he’d ingested of late, or simply the stress of the day.

Or maybe it was that his wife had arrived at his office to deliver the list with known Echo Park gangster and chop shop artist Oscar de Icaza in tow.

“What is this again?” Michael asked, handing it to Naomi.

“A list of every location to which the Jiankang drugs are regularly delivered across the city,” Helen said simply.

“Where on earth did you get it?” Michael asked.

“Is that important?” Helen asked, her tone imperious in a way Michael had never heard it before.

“Yes, of course,” Michael said. “Before I acted on something like this, I would need to know if it carried any weight whatsoever, wouldn’t I?”

“I gave it to her,” Oscar said, stepping forward.

That was another thing. Naomi was young, attractive, and wearing a form-fitting skirt and top combo. Helen was in jeans and a T-shirt. But Oscar couldn’t take his eyes off Helen.

“And where’d you get it?” Michael asked.

Oscar shrugged. “Showed up on my doorstep this morning with the
Times
.”

“And you just decided to give it to your, what, realtor?” Michael asked.

“My realtor, who happens to be married to a deputy district attorney, yes,” Oscar said. “If I gave it to LAPD, they’d probably bash my head in for my trouble. So yes, this seemed like the most reasonable and responsible course of action.”

Michael hated that Oscar was probably right about that.

“How do you know it’s authentic?” Michael asked.

“Oh, I don’t,” Oscar said, raising his hands. “For all I know the LA triad could be in the business of making fake lists of drops to confuse law enforcement or their competition. But if you check even a handful of those addresses, you’ll see what I did—they seem to be a lot of businesses that don’t really exist. There are a few pharmacies and hospitals, though not exactly Cedars Sinai, but the rest? They’re just delivering to a bunch of back doors somewhere.”

And given the current climate, it would take nothing to get a warrant for LAPD to check one of them out,
Michael thought.
How perfect.

“How perfect,” Michael said aloud.

“Right?” Oscar replied.

Helen shot Oscar a harsh look. Michael had seen that look before, but only ever aimed at him. He caught Helen’s gaze and saw the whole sordid tale written in her eyes.

Why him?
He wondered.
Why
him
? Has she really picked this man, knowing how it would look? Or does that look say there’s something real between them?

“You’re telling me that if I do this, if I send out the dogs, this ends now?”

“I’m telling you that if you want to get all the potentially tainted drugs off the streets right now, then yes, this is what you want to do.”

The speaker this time was Helen. Michael felt Naomi’s eyes flit to him and then flit away just as fast.

“All right,” Michael said finally. “I’ll send a couple of cars to these addresses and call the mayor back. I think the bulletin is going out within minutes.”

“This’ll prevent a lot of panic,” Helen said encouragingly. “And, of course, make you look like the guy who saved Los Angeles. Nothing will keep you from being elected DA.”

“Meaning ‘nothing including the fact that my wife is sleeping with a known gang leader’?”

It was the kind of thing Michael would never, ever say aloud no matter how much he believed it to be true. So why had he said it now? Did he want to show up Oscar for stepping into his office like this? Or show Helen that he could still surprise her?

Helen stared long and hard at him as a thin smile formed on Oscar’s lips. Naomi just looked embarrassed to be there.

“Yeah, that,” Helen said simply before heading out the door.

Oscar lagged behind, eyeing Michael curiously. “You think you just humiliated her? Or yourself?” he asked.

When Michael didn’t respond, Oscar exited as well.

Tony left Susan and Luis in the warehouse office and went out to speak with Billy. He wondered if he could be honest and say the brethren might be responsible for the plague it was currently wrestling with. But then he’d have to bring up Jun, and there was no way he wouldn’t look foolish.

But could he really lie to his brethren?

“They’re not junkies,” Tony said to Billy after leading him out. “And they’re not cops. In fact, it seems the woman is a doctor at one of the San Gabriel clinics we supply to.”

Billy scowled. “We know all that. She said some crazy stuff about how the pills are causing SARS.”

Oops.

“Yes, she said that to me, too, but I think she’s just been driven a little mad,” Tony lied. “People are dying, and she doesn’t know how to save them. So she’s blaming the pills. I think the priest is trying to keep her from hurting herself.”

Billy eyed Tony as if he didn’t believe a word he said. “What do we do then?”

“I’d like you to let me handle it,” Tony said carefully. “I can get them away from here. I can speak to the priest about what influence he does or doesn’t have over her. And most importantly, if there’s a need to call the police and have her arrested, it won’t happen at one of our warehouses.”

This resonated with Billy exactly as Tony knew it would. Everything else aside, having the police show up and ask questions at one of their warehouses was bad news.

“So, will you let me take them off-site?” Tony asked. “I’ll make the problem disappear.”

“Yes,” Billy said, bowing. “And thank you, Mr. Qi.”

“You’re welcome,” Tony replied. “I am most happy when I can be of service.”

As he walked away, Tony felt a pang in his heart. The first of many, he imagined, as the result of his interaction with Jun. He wished he could write her off and put her behind him, but even now he was acting in service to her.