Authors: Seth Harwood
She blew out smoke, shaking her head. "They are. I know. But we're basically fact-finding here. Seek out and explain. But now I don't know. Do we intervene if we see Chen in there?"
"What if we do? You really think we can get out of another riot? Last time was pure dumb luck."
"I can't be a party to this kind of killing."
"You already are." Jack shrugged. "If he wins, he'll go back to Memphis. Then I won't have anyone to train with."
"Jack, fuck the idea of you going through some training montage bullshit for the next year of your life and turning into one of these fighters. Fuck that. No soft music building to some heart-pounding crescendo, no getting better and better. No." She tweaked his dick. "Your cock is mine, and I'm not letting you waste your time that way or get killed over thirty fucking grand. No way. We've got one mission here, and that's to find proof that this thing is really going down and who's running it."
"Proof? Um. You want me to take pictures? What more do we need?"
"My man in the suit from the Mercedes." She finished her cigarette and flicked the filter against one of the courtyard's brick walls. "Come on, let's get our asses back in there so I can talk him up."
Jack took another drag as Jane knocked on the Zanzibar door. He couldn't believe they were going inside to see a follow up to the last bout. And he still didn't know how Chen had gotten back involved.
When Odd Job pushed open the door, Jane walked right through it. The man looked at Jack impatiently, raised his eyebrows.
Jack took a quick drag, flicked away the butt, and followed her inside.
Behind the crowds at the betting table, the guy from the Mercedes had joined the older men on the stage. He had on a white suit with a slick blue shirt and a white tie– even white shoes. Hands above his head, he talked to the old men, gesturing to indicate how tall the last fight's loser had been and repeating the critical blows that had ended his life.
Up on the ring, two men spread sand across the canvas with wooden rakes. Smoke hung heavy in the air, and the spectators stood smoking and yapping in sharp voices.
"The fuck," Jack said, starting down the stairs and following Jane toward the stage. She was making a bee line for the guy in the white suit. "Jane Gannon? What are you getting us into now?"
Four
Jane reached the stage and two large wrestler closed in on her from both sides. They held their hands up, motioning that she should not approach.
But Jack knew Jane Gannon, and he knew that wouldn't stop her–not in Chinatown, not in an arena full of hostile men, not even after she'd just seen two people killed.
She called up to the man wearing the white suit, and the discussion on the stage stopped. Four old men with long white beards looked down at her from ornate wooden chairs. Above their heads hung a series of ancient engravings: beautiful arrangements of waves, mountains, and clouds.
The guy she'd spoken to in the front seat of the Mercedes froze, then looked to the man in the suit. The man in the suit nodded once, and the two bouncers took Jane by the arms and lifted her up onto the stage. She bowed smoothly. The man with the suit turned to lead her out a back way.
But when Jack reached the bouncers, they blocked his way. "Jane," he called out. Above him, her legs looked even more beautiful in the tight dress. "How about–"
She looked back once, and one of the elderly men nodded. The bouncers stepped away, leaving Jack to climb up.
He hopped up with his hands on the rise, then threw a leg up and clambered to his knees. Jane was gone. He swept dust off his pants as he stood, and took a last look out at the crowd. Everyone was still milling and talking. The next fight wouldn't start any time soon.
Behind the stage, Jack followed a long, dark hallway to a dim room. He stepped into a dressing room for the fighters: padded tables surrounded by dingy white walls. A single naked light bulb hung from a fixture in the ceiling. In one corner of the room, Chen sat duct-taped to a short wooden chair, a white cloth gag pulled tight across his mouth.
White Suit pulled out a chair next to Chen and sat down. "This your friend?" he asked. Jane was about to answer when he raised a hand for her to wait. He drew a cigarette out of a case he'd produced from within his jacket. When one of his men lit it, he took a long drag and nodded his thanks.
"I am Mr. Ruby," he told them. Two men in black karate uniforms came up behind Jack to join the two already in the room. "It pleases me to make your acquaintance. Again."
"What is–" Again, he cut her off with his hand. It surprised Jack that Jane responded. They must really be in deep shit. "This is highly unusual. First you come to our fights. Now you request an audience? This is not how things work."
He took another drag of his cigarette and casually, as if absent-mindedly waving his hand toward an ashtray, pressed the lit cherry into Chen's forearm. Jack saw the skin sizzle and a thin haze of smoke rise up. Dullness entered Chen's eyes as he slid his gaze toward Ruby.
"Your friend belongs to us now. Pledged to the Triads for life. You outsiders?" He shook his head. "You do not belong. We let you watch these fights, but that is over. I hope you enjoyed."
"There's still one more to come," Gannon said.
"Yes. One more. As you can see," Ruby waved toward Chen, "your friend will lose." He said it with less emotion than a maitre d' showing you to your table.
"Why?" Jane asked.
Jack looked at Chen but couldn't catch his eye. He wanted to know why Chen was here, what he was doing. This couldn't just be about forty thousand bucks. Or could it?
"We need to see the last fight," Jane said.
Ruby looked at Chen, then Jane. His eyelids lowered to half-mast, and he considered them each in turn. "No," he said. "You have seen enough."
The bouncers started toward Jack.
"Wait. I– " Jane grasped for some opening. She held up her tickets. "But I have money on the last bout. Don't you want to let me see if I win?"
"On whom did you bet?"
"Chen, of course."
Ruby smiled and laughed softly. "Then you have already lost." He crossed one leg over the other, and Jack noticed his white patent leather shoes. The only thing he wore that wasn't white were his beige socks.
"Let me fight for him," Jack said.
Gannon turned fast, and Ruby broke out in a laugh. He said something in Chinese that made the bouncers look at Jack, then break into wide smiles. For a few moments, they were all laughing.
Ruby clicked his tongue. "You are Jack Palms? From the movie? Your suit is nice, Jack, but your words are stupid. Do not let them write your body into an early grave."
At that, the big fighter Chen had fought last month walked into the room. He folded thick arms across his chest. Jack noticed now that he bore a strong resemblance to Bolo Yeung, the old foe of Van Damme and Bruce Lee.
Gannon shot Jack a look. "You want to fight him, Jack? Really?"
Jack blinked. "Maybe I just went insane for a quick moment. I can admit that."
Jane shook her head in disgust. Jack wanted to say something else, but didn't. She stepped in front of him. "What my friend means is let us buy him out of his debt. This is about the last fight–am I correct here? He won a fight he wasn't supposed to?"
Ruby spat on the floor. "Bullshit. This not win. He did not finish. His disappearance has disgraced this
kumite
. Now he must fight and lose."
Ruby took a last drag of his smoke and ground out the butt ever-so-gently on Chen's arm. Chen finally moved, made a noise like he had something to say.
"Sixty thousand," Jane said. "That's what I'll give you to let him walk."
Ruby smiled. "And leave this crowd without a headliner? I do not think so."
"Seventy-five."
Jack didn't know if Jane had that kind of money; he couldn't believe she did.
"One hundred and fifty," Ruby said. "And I will not even ask why you wish to spare this man's life."
There was no way Jane or the bureau would have that much to throw into this.
Jane stepped toward Jack. Chen eyed them coldly, his message all too clear:
Do not buy me out of this. You must not interfere.
"At least let us watch the fight, then. Show us what we came here to see."
Ruby stood up. "Very well. You will be allowed to see the final sport of the evening. Let us go."
Jack and Jane watched the ring from the stage, sitting off to the side and behind Mr. Ruby. Two of the big fighters flanked them. The man from the front of the Mercedes sat beside them.
"They're really going to do this?" Jack asked.
"What's not to believe?"
Bolo Yeung walked out from behind them. Music like a mix of bag pipes and the sound of mating geese blared out around the ring. Bolo wore a headband that stuck out behind his head. As he made his way to the ring, he did a strange dance, rolling his hands in front of him like a doggy paddle. When he got up onto the canvas, he dropped to one knee and raised his hands. Then he bent and rocked a few times, switched to the other knee, and did the same on the other side. The geese blared on.
"What the fuck is this?" Jack asked.
"Traditional
muy thai
fighting prayers. This is how the fighters show their respect to those who've come before them."
"Really? You've done your research, agent Jane."
"They call it
wai khru ram muay
."
In the ring, Bolo dropped onto both knees and started bowing his head and arms to the mat.
"He's not worthy," Jack said. "Wayne's world. Wayne's world."
"Jesus, Jack. Really!"
After three bows, Bolo stood and began to walk around the perimeter of the ring.
From behind his row of chairs, Jack heard a commotion and then saw Chen being led onto the stage with two large fighters behind him. The crowd jeered and hissed as Chen was pushed off the platform. He picked himself up and walked toward the ring.
The crowd threw paper at Chen–losing betting slips and cigarette butts–and yelled in anger.
Ruby leaned back in his chair. "This is what they think of someone who does not finish a fight. You do not carry the combat all the way through– " He trailed off, shaking his head, and turned back to the ring.
"So Chen has to finish this off, then? Kill or be killed?"
"And we have to sit and watch," Jane said.
Chen walked around the ring, rubbing his wrists where they'd been tied. Then he jumped up onto the canvas and dropped into a fighting stance.
Bolo took off his headpiece, bowed once, and dropped into a stance of his own. The drum beat three times, and the crowd went quiet.
The fighters circled each other, moving slowly around the ring. Chen looked strange, unlike himself and unsure in his movements. To Jack, who'd watched him practice his forms every day for the past month, everything he was doing looked wrong.
"Maybe he's drugged."
Gannon shushed Jack, intent on the ring. "I hope not. Because if he is, this'll be over fast."
"We've got to stop it."
"How?"
"I don't know. I could– "
"You run up onto that ring and you'll be mobbed, tackled, and hog-tied before you ever get to the matt. Who's that going to help?"
Bolo made a slow move toward Chen, reaching out with a tentative jab as he stepped forward, measuring the space between them. Chen stood still.
Bolo leapt forward and backhanded Chen across the face. Chen spun and spit blood into the sand spread across the ring.
Bolo followed with a right hook into Chen's ribs that moved Chen back. His feet slid across the sand. When he stopped, he re-gathered himself into his stance.
"He's fucked."
Chen dropped lower, bending his knees. He shook his head as if trying to clear it and made familiar motions with his arms, waving them into one of his routines.
Bolo crossed quickly and made a sweeping kick into Chen's front leg. He followed it with a straight kick to Chen's chest. Again Chen slid back. Close to the edge of the ring now, he circled around Bolo. It was strange to see the two of them fighting at this speed, as if Bolo wanted to watch his craftsmanship, appreciate each blow in its own time.
Bolo came at Chen now and scooped him up like a wrestler, held him at the shoulder and between his legs. Bolo turned and slammed Chen into the center of the ring. Chen bounced once in the sand and rose to his feet.
The fight was like a cat playing with a mouse, Bolo casually fucking up Chen as he wished, doing damage in his own time. Chen had no answers. Finally the drums beat to signal the end of the round.
The two fighters rested, Chen with his hands on his knees, breathing hard, and Bolo standing up straight, glaring across the ring. Chen looked like his nose was broken, and one cheek was cut. His front leg had been kicked enough times that he'd had to switch up to southpaw and alter his stance completely.
"I've got to do something to stop this," Jane said. She got up from her chair and walked out the door at the back of the stage. Jack glanced at Mr. Ruby, who simply looked nonplussed and turned back to the ring.
"Jane, Jane, Jane," Jack said. "What are you getting us into now?"
Jack thought about making some big proclamation, a verbal appeal for them to stop the fight. But he saw Ruby staring at him, and he could feel the two bigger fighters closing in on him from behind.
At that moment, Chen looked up and his eyes met Jack's. Then Chen nodded. Jack didn't know what Chen was telling him, but honor or no, there had to be something in Chen that didn't want to die.