The celebration felt good, but I knew in my heart there was one raging loose end. If I left it untied, it could wipe out all of the good that had come out of a good morning.
I found Angela Lamb working her way through a cluster of reporters. I think she was relieved to be taken away, even by me.
“Angela, where have they got Kip Liu? Is he still in the building?”
“They have him in the interviewing room. They’re waiting for transportation to take him to the lockup. Why?”
“I need five minutes alone with him.”
She gave me one of her many looks. “Not a chance.”
I took her off to the side of the room.
“Let’s cut through the politically correct crap here, Angela. We haven’t much time. You’re looking for a one-way ticket to the state house.”
“Listen, sonny boy. Just because you got lucky in there…”
“I can give it to you.”
That cut off the flow and gave me an opening.
“I can give it to you. Are you listening?”
“What?”
“I can hand you the key witness to prosecute the most effective criminal organization in this state. You can get daily headlines from the Globe in the morning and the Herald in the evening. Maybe even the New York Times. It depends on how you play it.”
“What are you talking about?”
“We’re losing time. I need five minutes with Liu. Alone. You should know by now I deliver on my promises.”
She was still leery-probably more leery of treating me like an equal than of believing what I promised. Still, the carrot on this particular stick was the stuff of which egos are made-particularly hers.
“All right. You have five minutes. There’ll be officers just outside the door.”
Mr. Kip Liu looked considerably less self-possessed in handcuffs seated in a metal straight-back chair.
“I’m going to make you an offer, Mr. Liu. It has a shelf life of five minutes.”
He still had enough “face” to look at me with disgust.
“You can’t threaten me. You have no proof of anything. I have witnesses who’ll contradict everything those two say.”
“Oh, I bet you do. I bet you could march half of Chinatown through here petrified enough to swear you’re the Wizard of Oz. It doesn’t matter. Whatever the DA does is up to her. You and I have unfinished business. You know what “business” is: I give you. You give me.”
“One problem, Knight. You have nothing I want.”
“How about that precious life of yours?”
He grinned. Still the upper dog.
“Are you threatening to kill me?”
“No. That’s your line. I can just let it happen.”
The grin was still there. He just shook his head in disgust.
“You still don’t get it, do you, Liu? I’ll lay it out for you. The way I see it, you met with old Mr. Chen in the back room of the Ming Tree. He was yelling at you about the low faan. That would probably be Anthony and his non-Chinese drug operators. Breaks the old rule, doesn’t it, about not dealing with people outside of the Chinese community? Sounds like Mr. Chen didn’t like it. But the real question is how did Mr. Chen get the nerve to come down on you? That’s the question that started the tumblers falling into place.”
The smile was gone. If his eyes were hatchets, I’d have been in forty-two pieces. There was no sound. I came in close.
“I had it figured a long time ago that you’re the tong’s fu shan chu. The number two man. It always puzzled me that Mr. Chen was picked as the victim of the shooting. Could it be, Mr. Liu, that sweet old Mr. Chen was the shan chu, the number one? The Dragon Head? The one only you knew about? I think so. I think he was stepping on your operation with Anthony and the non-Chinese at Harvard. You were thinking maybe if he dies, you become the shan chu. You could operate to suit yourself.”
He was frozen stiff. I think he saw where I was going.
“That means you committed the unforgivable. You actually killed the Dragon Head without the permission of the tong. You tried to lay it off on Anthony so nobody in the tong would know. It didn’t work, did it? I saw at least fifteen Chinese in that courtroom. They heard what Mrs. Lee said. How long do you figure it will take for word to get to the top of the tong?”
I was next to his ear and whispering.
“Can you even imagine the death they’ll dream up for you when the word gets back to Hong Kong? You could set new records for pain.”
Not a muscle was moving.
“Where can you go to hide, Mr. Liu? Is there a hole on this earth where they won’t find you? Actually, you’ll be in prison for the foreseeable future. At least long enough to come to trial for the murder of Mr. Chen. You’ll be waiting for them like a staked goat.”
I moved back and sat against the table. I checked my watch in front of him.
“Well, that’s five minutes. Nice chat, Mr. Liu.”
I was moving toward the door, when I heard the words.
“What’s the offer?”
I turned around and just looked at him for ten seconds. I don’t know why. It just seemed to raise the tension.
“Witness protection program. The U.S. Attorney is ready to deal. You’ll keep that expensive skin on those bones.”
“In exchange for what?”
“Two things. The U.S. Attorney will want names, facts, and testimony about the tong. You’ll be the star of the show.”
He thought for a minute without saying a word. What I suggested ran counter to his thirty-six oaths and the whole code of tong existence. On the other hand, it was the tong that would be inflicting pain that even he couldn’t imagine for committing the unpardonable.
When he spoke, the superior tone had lost its edge.
“And what is the second thing?”
I was directly in his face.
“This is the important part. If you go back on this, I’ll personally find you and feed you to the tong. From this moment on, Anthony and Mei-Li are completely free of you and that gang of thugs you give orders to. No strings. Nothing. The same goes for Mrs. Lee and Mr. Qian. That’s 100 percent nonnegotiable. It also includes me and anyone close to or connected with me. “
He was looking directly into my face, but he was saying nothing. I could read the struggle in his eyes. I gave it ten seconds. I shrugged and said, “Good luck with your playmates.”
I was at the door when I heard a quiet, “All right.”
From the door I said, “What?”
“All right.”
I came back to stand in front of him.
“Not good enough.”
He looked up at me.
“Swear it.”
He did. I demanded it again. He did, and I demanded it a third time.
I figured a repetition of three would somehow resonate with the ritual code he lived by.