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  Angelo nodded and turned hack the way he had come. He leaned into the car and exchanged a few words with the occupants. After a few seconds, Gator emerged from the car. He straightened his broad shoulders and moved to where his uncle was standing.

  “ ‘Sup, Uncle T?” Gator asked nervously.

  “Shit, you tell me,” Poppa said coldly.

  “Got into a lil* trouble back home.”

  “‘A lil’ trouble,’“ Poppa said, raising an eyebrow. “Fool, you shot a bunch of mutha fuckas and one of them was a cop. You know how much fucking heat you’re bringing to my doorstep?”

  “Sorry, Uncle T. I didn’t mean to get you caught up in this shit. Gator handles his own. But I didn’t know where to turn, i just needed to get up outta Florida to plot my next move. 1 won’t stick around and bring heat down on you. I’ll be gone in a few days,” Gator said, defeated.

  “No,” Poppa said. “I won’t turn you away. You’re June's nephew, so you’re my family too. You’re gonna stay in New York until I figure out what to do with you.”

  “Hey, Uncle T.” Gator smiled. “You know I got ya back. Whatever you need I got you.”

  “I’ll probably just have you hang out with Shai. Maybe the two of you can keep each other out of trouble.”

  “Shit, I ain’t seen cuz in a while. How's he doing?”

  “Head just as hard as yours,” Poppa sighed. “It seems like he can’t keep his ass out of trouble.”

  “His name Clark, ain’t it?” Gator joked.

  “Don’t play with me, Marquis,” Poppa said, using Gator's birth name. “You just watch your step while you’re in New York. You’re under my supervision, so act like it.”

  “Yeah, fo’ sho’, Poppa. I’m gonna get low wit’ cuz and take in the sights.”

  “The hell you will,” Poppa informed him. “Just because you gotta lay low doesn’t mean I ain’t gonna put yo’ stupid ass to work. We pull our weight around here, Gator.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Now get out of here. Angelo will take care of you until I handle my business.”

  Gator quickly spun away from Poppa, so he couldn’t see the smile that he was sporting. He had expected Poppa to be way harder on him, but he knew that he wouldn’t turn June's nephew away. Poppa was doing big things in New York and Gator figured he might as well get comfortable and get his too.

  Darkness fell over the city and New York came to life. The working stiffs were tucked into their safe havens, leaving the streets to the hustlers and people of the night. Here pulled the Yukon in front of a tiny restaurant in Chinatown. Tommy stepped from the rear of the truck decked out in a gray business suit. The black briefcase hung at his side as he strolled toward the spot, followed by Here.

  “I don’t like this, Tommy,” Here complained.

  “What's not to like?” Tommy asked. “If everything is on the level, then we stand to make a sweet deal.”

  “It's too good to be true, Tommy. All the years that we’ve been running around in Harlem these fucking slant eyes ain’t never taken an interest in our thing. Why the generosity now?”

  “Don’t know, Here. And truthfully I don’t care. All I know is that I smell money.”

  “Still don’t like it, Tommy. Shit stinks if you ask me.”

  “Well, I didn’t ask you, Here. Stop being so fucking paranoidand come on.” Tommy walked toward the restaurant. Here shrugged his massive shoulders and followed his friend inside the joint.

  When they entered the restaurant, there were a few people inside enjoying their dinner and some dudes sitting at a table playing a game that neither one of them recognized. When Tommy and Here walked in, the players all stood at attention. They conversed among themselves in Mandarin Chinese and fixed their attention on the two black men.

  “You lost?” an Asian man wearing a tank top and leather jacket asked. His English was perfect except for a slight accent.

  “Nah,” Tommy said. “We ain’t lost, son. Came to see Billy Wong.”

  “He know you?”

  “Yeah, tell him Tommy's waiting on him.”

  Leather Jacket said something to one of the other players and a young boy went off into the back. After a few minutes the boy came back speaking in Mandarin. Leather Jacket motioned for Tommy and Here to step forward. The other players got up from the table and formed a semicircle around the two men.

  “Fuck is this?” Here asked, reaching into his jacket. Before he could clear his weapon, there were four semiautomatic pistols aimed at them. Here raised his hands and reluctantly allowed one of the Asians to remove his .45.

  “Easy, big man,” Leather Jacket said. “Just a precaution. Don’t know how you guys do it uptown, but we don’t talk with guns down here. Your pistol will be returned to you when our business is conducted. Now, can you raise your arms so we can search you, Tommy?”

  Tommy didn’t like it, but what could he do about it at that point? They had come too far to turn back now. Besides, if they tried to turn back, it might’ve been looked at as a sign of weakness. There was nothing weak about Tommy. Poppa had always taught him to fear no man. If ever the chips were against him, die with pride.

  Tommy stepped forward and raised his arms. One Asian patted him down, while another searched the case. He admired Tommy's parcel and placed it back in the case. After assuring that they held no hidden dangers, the young men were allowed to pass.

  Leather Jacket led them through the kitchen area to a thick wooden door near the fire exit. He knocked in a pattern and waited. After a few seconds the door opened exposing a dimly lit corridor. Leather Jacket nodded at the doorman with the Uzi under his arm and kept walking. The corridor stretched a few dozen feet and stopped at another door. The difference was that this door was steel and had a rubber seal around the frame. Leather Jacket knocked on this door and awaited entry. The iron door hissed open on hydraulic hinges and welcomed Tommy and Here to a world alien to theirs.

  When the room's seal was broken, a fog of marijuana slapped them in the face. Here, who wasn’t a smoker, found himself a bit dizzy. Tommy on the other hand took in a chestful. There was another smell in the air that Tommy didn’t recognize. It was sweet with a touch of evil. Strange indeed.

  The man who opened the door was a brute. He was almost Here's height, but wider across the chest. “Shoes,” he grumbled. Tommy and Here nodded, removing their expensive shoes. He squinted at the trio and waved them in with his AR 15.

  The room was decorated straight out of eighteenth-century China. The floor was laced with a red carpet. If you looked closely at the rug you could see the gold threads crisscrossing it. The walls were covered in expensive-looking tapestries and the doors were made from real bamboo. There was no furniture in the room to speak of, except a few small glass tables. The only things to sit on were some throw pillows. In the center, lounging on a red satin pillow, was Billy Wong.

  Billy looked like the royal emperor himself. He had on a traditional silk robe that was the color of bluest oceans. Silver angels danced along the sleeves and bottom of the robe. Billy watched his visitors through half-closed eyes, as he took deep pulls off a bong.Two young black girls rested their sleepy eyes on his lap, staring into nothingness. The master of the house greeted his guests with a lazy smile.

  “Tommy,” Billy said, extending his free hand, “good to see you, brother.”

  “Thanks for having me, Billy.”

  “Please, you and your friend have a seat. I hope you don’t mind the pillows?”

  “Nah,” Tommy said, sitting cross-legged. “It's cool, Billy,”

  “Good. I see you’ve met Max?” Billy said, nodding at Leather jacket.

  “Yeah,” Tommy said, looking over his shoulder. “We’ve met. Uh, is it cool to talk?” asked Tommy, nodding at the girls.

  “Them,” Billy said, taking a breast in each hand, “high off of opium. We could probably take turns ass-fucking them and they wouldn’t be any the wiser. Care for a taste?”

  “Nah, I’m g
ood. Before we begin, Billy, I have a gift for you. May I?” Tommy asked, pointing at the case. Billy nodded in approval. Tommy popped open the case, revealing a strange mask and a jeweled dagger. “For you,” Tommy said, bowing his head and presenting Billy with the items. “I believe they’re from the Yao Era?”

  Billy looked at the gifts and nodded in approval. Poppa had schooled Tommy well on dealing with foreigners. Always learn their customs and make them feel respected. Sure enough, it was working. The mask and dagger had cost Tommy a pretty penny, but he just looked at it as an investment in his future.

  “Nice,” Billy said, running his finger across the flat end of the blade. “Authentic?”

  “Damn well better be,” Tommy smiled. “As much as I paid for ‘em.”

  “You know your stuff, Tommy. Are you familiar with Chinese history?”

  “I like to know a little about everything. Keeps me open-minded. Ya know?”

  “Indeed. And I have a gift for you.” Billy reached under his pillowand produced a sugar bag packed to the brim with the prettiest green buds Tommy had ever laid eyes on. “We grow this stuff right in our yard back home. I also do my homework, Tommy. I’m familiar with your fixation with exotic plants.”

  “Good looking out,” Tommy said, accepting the gift. “This smells proper. I wish I had something to roll with.”

  “Tommy,” Billy said, pinching a bud from the top. “You can’t smoke this kinda weed inside of a cigar. You’ve gotta hit this the right way.” Billy stuffed the bud into the bowl of the bong. Using a glass lighter, he set the bud ablaze and inhaled. It smelled like the sweetest heaven to Tommy. “Here,” Billy said, offering the bong. “Test it.”

  Tommy took the bong and looked at it for a minute. Tommy wasn’t a bong man, but at the same time he didn’t want to offend his host. Tommy put the still-smoking bong to his lips and inhaled. When the smoke entered his chest, it didn’t even burn. It was when he tried to hold it that he had the trouble. The sweet smoke put a vise grip on his lungs and threatened to cut off his air. Tommy went into a fit of coughing and slobbering on himself. He handed the bong back to Billy feeling like a complete ass.

  “Told you,” Billy said, taking a pull. “This is some good shit. You gotta be careful with it. Now, let's talk a little business.”“Okay,” Tommy said, wiping his mouth with a handkerchief. “I’m listening.”

  “We Wongs have been in this neighborhood for some time now. We have coexisted with the Italians, content to make what we could where we could. But you see, this is a new millennium. The old leaders have made way for new blood. A certain group of people, whom are loyal to my family, and our cause, has a way to get mass quantities of heroin into the United States. They only produce small amounts a few times a year and ship them to different ports—nothing too heavy. Their problem is that they don’t have the means of manufacturing it in mass amounts, nor do they have the distribution. That is where we come in.”

  “How's that?”

  “The Wong family has holdings in the legitimate world as well as the underworld. We have a processing plant in Jinan, right along the coast of the Yellow Sea. We use this particular plant to supply southern Korea, Shanghai, and parts of Vietnam. They in turn send it to other ports and it eventually makes it to the States. We see money off of it, but there are so many middlemen that the profits get chopped all to hell. We aren’t particularly happy with it, but it keeps our product in circulation.”

  “Not to rush you, but what's that got to do with us?”

  “I was coming to that, Tommy. As I said, we do our homework over here. We know that Poppa isn’t happy with the current arrangement he has with the Italians. As it stands, Poppa is one of the biggest distributors of narcotics in the eastern United States.”

  “So, that ain’t no big secret. Just about anybody with their hands deep enough in dirt knows or has at least heard about that. But if you did your homework, as you say, then you’d know Poppa is retiring.”

  “Indeed,” Billy nodded. “That's why I wanted to meet with you.”

  “Okay, Billy. You bring me down here to discuss a plan that's supposed to benefit both of us, but so far it sounds one-sided. We get to move all this shit and make an asshole full of money while you guys get the overs? Why ain’t you just bring some of your people in to move it on the streets?”

  “Good question, Tommy,” Billy agreed. “They’re several reasons but I’ll give you the two most important. For one, there isn’t much of a demand for heroin down here. The people of our culture are more spiritual in nature. I’m not saying that we aren’t without our vices, but it’ll pop better outside of our neighborhoods. The second is this, the elders amongst us are not so quick to stick their hands into narcotics. Much like the Italians, they’re very leery of the heat that comes with that trade.”

  “Oh,” Tommy cut in, “so as long as the niggers and spies are slinging it everything is everything?”

  “Tommy,” Billy said, resuming the negotiations, “don’t look at it like that. Poppa is the undisputed lord of the underworld. This is themain reason that the Italians keep friendly relations with you blacks. United we can both sever our ties to a common pain in the ass.”

  Tommy sat stone-faced, kicking the idea around in his head. As he thought about it, he saw the beauty of Billy's plan and the offer. This would put them in a position to knock the other heroin pushers out of the box. Just as Tommy had anticipated, the deal was truly sweet. But there was more.

  “Also,” Billy picked up, “we are not without our own political connections. I’m sure we can get the elders of our family to extend some of their courtesies to the Clarks.”

  This bit of information caused Tommy to listen a little more closely.

  “In a few years,” Billy continued, “your family and ours can dominate the heroin trade in the United States. Blacks and yellows working together would make a powerful foe against mutual enemies.”

  All Tommy could do was grin. The deal that Billy Wong had set out was just what his family needed to smash the competition. The deal was sweet, but Tommy wanted more. For Billy to think he was just going to settle for dominance in the States was absurd. If he had connections abroad, Tommy wanted in.

  “I will admit,” Tommy began, “your offer is a sweet one. Like you, I wouldn’t mind being young and rich, but I don’t think you’re factoring in all the details, such as your overseas heroin markets.”

  “What about them?” Billy asked suspiciously.

  “Billy.” Tommy grinned. “I’ve never considered myself a stupid man. If we distribute heroin for you, that puts us in a marriage of sorts. If a man messes with your spouse, then you gotta go to bat for ‘em. You feel me?”

  “Indeed,” Billy said, hitting the weed again, “it would tip the scales slightly if we had you as an ally.”

  “Exactly my point, kid. Sec, we can lay down with this dope shit and all see some bread, but what about the perks? You get the protection of the Clark family, but what do we get?”

  “I see your point,” Billy said. “Tell me, Tommy. What do you want?”

  “1 want a piece of the overseas market. Nothing major, just a little slice to call my own, ya know? Set something up over there.”

  “I would have to talk to some of my elders about this, but I will consider it. Anything else?” Billy asked sarcastically.

  “Since you asked,” Tommy sneered, “yeah. Exclusive distribution rights.”

  “Tommy, that's asking a bit much.”

  “I don’t think so, Billy, I know you’ve got other people moving that shit in the City, we ain’t special. But ask yourself this, why haven’t those other crews kept the Italians from getting in your ass? I think you need us a little more than you’re letting on.”

  Billy wanted to take the dagger and slash Tommy's throat, but he kept himself in check. Tommy had proved to be slightly more cagey than he had given him credit for. If Billy gave Tommy exclusive distribution, he would make quite a few people unhappy. But with Pop
pa Clark as an ally, would it really matter?

  “You are a tyrant as a negotiator, Tommy,” Billy said, half joking. “We will take these things into consideration. Can you guarantee us that you will use your influence at the shipping yards to accommodate some of the Wong endeavors?”

  “I’ll get with Poppa, but I don’t see why not. Give me some time to iron out the details and I’ll get back with you.”

  “Sure, Tommy. I understand totally. Will forty-eight hours be sufficient?”

  “That should do it,” Tommy said, standing. “I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.” Tommy bowed first to Billy then Max. “I thank you for having us as your guests.” Max escorted Tommy and Here to the main entrance. Here was given his gun back before Max bid them farewell. After seeing them off Max went to rejoin his brother.

  “So,” Max began. “What do you think?”

  “Hmm,” Billy said, rubbing his chin. “Tommy is quite the strategist, but he's not as good as me. He thinks he sees through us, but he's only half right. Tommy will go for whatever we tell him, because he's ambitious and we can help him get where he wants tobe. Poppa is still officially the boss, but Tommy runs the organization. I think that he will influence Poppa to agree to our terms.”

  “You better hope so, Billy. If not, we’re gonna be up shit's creek. I don’t know why you put an order in for all that product and you haven’t secured definite distribution. You know the Italians are shady.”

  “Because, my brother, I am a prophet. I see greatness down the road ahead. These fucking Italians have had us under their boot long enough. We’ve been giving them our product for less than what it's worth and they still try and cheat us. With the blacks behind us we will stand as a force to be reckoned with. In a few years time we’ll push the Italians out of this part of the City for good. Besides, I’d rather do business with a nigger than a guinea anyhow.”

  “What's the difference, smart guy?” Max asked.