Heaven & Earth

"I said now, Jerikowskowitz."

Walter held up his hands and said, "Todd, relax, we're going."

***

"Aww... man." Jinro said and turned away with a hand over his mouth, not in time to suppress the vomitus threatening to erupt, streams of partially digested breakfast squirted past his fingers. He read the incident report during the trip, and it was bloody, but he hadn't expected what they'd found.

Walter let out a slow whistle when he laid his eyes on the scene. The area was zoned for light industry and lined with warehouses. One in particular had a crowd gathering behind barricades and the tactical vehicles parked in front. It wasn't a vat-bin, but inside it there was blood on the floor beside crumpled bodies. Med-techs stabilized the victims that could be and wheeled them to waiting air-ambulances.

"What's going on here?" Jinro said as he wiped his mouth and flashed his badge at the mobile patrol sergeant, a woman, who approached to eject them from the warehouse. She relaxed as she scanned his ID, logging him into the crime scene.

"We got a call about gang-activity at this location. Once we got here it was already over. I've never seen anything like it, sir."

"Has anyone been identified as a witness?" Walter said and scanned the crowd gathering behind the tactical barricades blocking off the scene.

"No, sir." The sergeant said. "Noone has come forward."

"Can you find out who owns this warehouse for me?" Jinro said. "I'll need their name, address, and VP tag."

"Yes, sir, at once." The sergeant said and moved off to fulfill her instructions. The city's Tactical's were trained by the Marines. It showed in their discipline.

"Jeez, this reminds me of the bad old days," Walter said. "You're probably too young to remember the problems we had with Crack."

"That was before my time, old man." Jinro said as he surveyed the scene, stepping around motionless forms, tossed around the warehouse interior, outlined in white chalk. There were over thirty... male and female... some on the floor, some, drooped over the tops of high-stacks of boxes. There was a Chinese symbol painted on each wall.

"I don't miss it."

"Hey Walter," Jinro called and pointed out the symbol. "Isn't that the same symbol we saw in the Bayard Street station yesterday?"

Walter stepped up next to him and squinted at it.

"Yep," He said. "The Dragon-Kings. You think maybe this was their hangout or something like that?"

"If it's not, someone sure wants us to think it is," Jinro said. It looked like the Dragon-Kings had been the target of a rival Tong . Shell casings were scattered across the floor, being collected by a pair of mobile patrol officers, and there were guns already tagged as evidence where they had fallen beside bodies. "Everybody I see here is wearing the same symbol. I guess we're looking at what's left of the Dragon-Kings."

"Fine, we know who the victims are," Jinro said "I guess we'll never be able to ask them what they knew about Leonard Dean."

"We don't have CCTV coverage in this area," Walter said. "If we want to find out, we might have to wait and talk to the survivors, if they make it."

Jinro nodded and crouched to examine a weapon, it was a submachine gun and the 9mm rounds it fired wouldn't have penetrated the ballistic armor the tacticals wore, though the ex-ganger it belonged to had been torn up by rounds fired by a similar weapon.

They sure can do a number on unprotected flesh. Jinro thought and pressed the back of his hand to the young man's face. It was cool to the touch and Rigor Mortis had set into the muscles of face and neck. His head had fallen to the side and he had died looking at the door, but his eyes were cloudy now, if the corpse were a fish on ice in some supermarket meat counter, Jinro would've passed on it for something fresher. There were purple splotches forming on the back of his neck and Jinro was sure that he would find larger ones on the man's back as blood obeyed gravity and settled into the underside of the body.

"What do you think, maybe the time of death was about four-to-eight hours ago?" Walter said and opened his PDA, waving it at the dead surrounding them.

"Probably less than eight hours, lividity isn't that far progressed, but that sounds like it's in the right ball-park," Jinro said and pointed at the weapons scattered around. "I'm seeing a lot of weapons here that are the same make."

Walter took a visual accounting of the weapons in view and said, "I didn't notice. What make are they?"

Jinro picked up the nearest gun and gave it a brief examination. Once he finished, he returned the evidence to its original resting place and said. "ChiCom copies of the MP-five. Customs really dropped the ball on letting these babies through."

"It looks like they wasted each other." Walter said as he stooped to search the pockets of a kid who had gone out holding a digital camera. The memory card supposed to be snuggly embedded into the bottom was gone, defacing the camera body with an empty socket.

"It looks like someone lived long enough to remove evidence from the scene," Jinro said and pointed out the camera. "Our gang problem just took a turn for the better. At least in Little Beijing, I'm sorry it had to be this way though."

He climbed onto a crate and took in the big scene. The way the bodies were laying, it did look like the Dragon-Kings had squared off at opposite ends of the warehouse and blasted away at each other.

"I didn't hear of any other tribals moving into the area," Walter said and donned latex gloves. He preferred the powdered kind, which made Jinro's hands itch. "But maybe this is where they had their showdown."

"Could be," Jinro said as he scanned the walls for bullet holes. They were made of thin, Aluminum sheeting and were riddled with punctures. "I gotta get outta the city. All of this shit looks the same, I'm starting to dream about bodies."

"I know what you mean, buddy," Walter said. "Here's a question... what's the most popular animal in the prison zoo?"

Jinro suddenly wanted away from the stench of blood and spent gunpowder and jumped off the crate to the ground and said, "Pumpalottohass."

Walter laughed.

***

He dreamed. Snow still covered the ground in slowly melting patches but the warehouse was becoming an oven beneath the late afternoon sun. Jinro made for the door. Once outside, he inhaled deeply to clear his lungs.

"So what's the count?" Jinro said and scanned the crowd penned behind the tactical barricades as Walter came up next to him.

"We got eight on the way to Bayside General," Walter said and shoved his hands into the pockets of his overcoat. "Thirty on the way to the morgue. No identification of any of the victims yet."

"Get a guard on them, and tell him to bring a PDA," Jinro said and watched for faces he recognized. She wasn't one of them. One of the clan symbols on her arms might've been the Dragon-Kings. He made a mental note to check when he got back to HQ. "Anybody says anything, I wanna know about it, and get someone from crime scene down here to get some photographs."

"You got it," Walter said and turned to look for the mobile patrol Sergeant. "Throwing back a cold one by four-thirty, huh? I should've taken that bet."

"You should've." Jinro said and shook a cigarette out of a fresh pack, lit it, and took a drag.

"Tactical has got things under control. They're gonna send over the case report as soon as the clean-up crew is finished."

Jinro released a cloud of smoke and took a deep breath of the air. "One more to put on the pile."

"I'll be inside." Walter said and turned. Jinro let him go. He had almost completed his visual sweep of the crowd when he saw a shock of purple/blond hair and familiar eyes. They widened in surprise when the girl realized that he recognized her. She turned and started pushing through the crowd toward the back.

"You! Don't move!" Jinro said and pitched the cigarette away, breaking into a slow trot towards her. The look of surprise on her face became worried as she watched him get closer.

"Where you going?" Walter called from behind him but his voice only barely registered in Jinro's ears. She moved quicker when she burst from the mob. Jinro waved a path through the same crowd and stopped as he got to the back. His head swiveled from side-to-side as he scanned for her.

There she is. He thought as he spotted her form just around the corner of another warehouse, the waning sunlight threw her receding shadow onto the street. He sprinted for the corner and saw her running- already a half-block away.

"Stop!" He shouted and started after her. She turned her head back when she heard him shout, then turned right and disappeared into an alley. He hit the wall of the warehouse on the far-side hard, The alley was blocked off by a tall, chain-link fence. The sound of feet slapping down on metal steps drew his attention upward. She was on the fire-escape of the old building beside him, three flights up and still climbing. He found the access ladder and did the same. He'd gained on her by the time she reached the top. When he got there, she was on the other side of the flat roof, peering over the edge, gauging the distance to the next rooftop.

"Don't move!" Jinro shouted and she cringed. "There's no place else to for you to go! Now put your hands up!"

She faced him and slowly stepped back. Jinro pulled himself to the top and bent over, gasping as he caught his breath. She took several steps toward him, then stopped. He drew himself erect and put a hand up.

"You're the one that posted a message on my machine... why?" Jinro said between huffs. "What do you know about Leonard Dean?"

She flashed a smile, then turned and ran for the edge of the rooftop. Grunting as she planted a foot and leapt, her momentum carried her smoothly over the narrow span to the next rooftop.

Why do they always have to do it the hard way? Jinro thought to himself and took several rapid, reinforcing breaths. He growled as he raced for the edge. He was letting her get away. He pushed off hard when his foot came down on the lip of the roof. If she could do it then he could do it.

Oh shit, I'm not gonna make it. He thought. In an instant, two realities entered his awareness. One was that he had misgauged the distance between the rooftops and would not land squarely on the opposite side, the other that the term "oh shit" contained two of the more frequently used last words.

The edge of the rooftop his was aiming for blasted the air from his lungs as it folded him at the waist. As Jinro struggled to breathe and to keep himself from falling, he saw her look back for him. She stopped when she saw his predicament. His chest burned and his arms wobbled as he tried to hoist himself up. She wasn't helping, only watching.

I can't breathe. He thought and suppressed rising panic. Shit, I can't breathe. Somebody help me.

With no oxygen, his muscles refused to support his weight. She started towards him as he struggled futilely, growing weaker each time he tried to pull himself up but failed to. One arm was growing numb, he hung by the fingers of his one good hand, but his grip wouldn't hold. Her face appeared over the lip of the rooftop, looking down at him.

"Give me your hand," He croaked out and struggled to lift his numbed arm. She didn't move, just stood there and appraised him curiously. "I can't hold on!"

"No!" Jinro roared as he lost his grip. For an instant he felt like he was floating, then gravity pulled at him and he started falling.

Jinro jerked upright, sending covers and pillows flying. The alarm-clock was chirping and if the time was correct, it had been on for the last ten minutes. He slapped it off and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He dropped his legs over the side of the mattress and tried to slow his pounding heart. He was just coming out of the shower when Walter buzzed at the door.

"You don't look so good." Walter observed when Jinro came down the stairs rubbing the stubble clinging to his chin.

"Thanks for the clue, Inspector," Jinro snapped, then he softened. Walter was his partner and would cover him regardless of what he looked like. "Sorry, I just didn't sleep to well last night."

"It's okay," Walter said and fumbled in his pockets for the car-keys. "By the way, gong xi fa cai."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Jinro said and combed his still-wet hair back with his fingers.

"May you have good fortune," Walter said. "The lunar new year starts today."

"What time's the parade start?" Jinro said as he opened the passenger door of the Crown Vic and dropped into the seat.

"Noon traditionally. This year I don't know," Walter said as he settled in behind the wheel. "Why?"

***

Chapter Three

The core of Little Beijing was crowded when the Year of the Dragon came. The streets were jammed with people doing loud things despite temperatures in the low 'teens. Hanging bundles of noisemakers unzippered to frighten off demons and other evil spirits that might bring bad luck, as a gaudy, ornamental dragon led a parade meant the start of a year filled with change.

Dancers supporting the long costume picked a serpentine path down New Utrecht Avenue, following a man carrying a glowing white ball fixed to the top of a staff; the symbolic pearl of wisdom. Chinese lanterns hung on cords strung from rooftop to rooftop, next to icicles. The lights would add to the glow of the neon signage when darkness finally came, the celebrations would go on for three days and nights.

"We're never going to find anyone in this crowd." Walter lamented to himself and to Jinro if he was listening.

"Maybe not." Jinro muttered and resumed his scanning of the crowd. They were parked on the corner of 42nd Street trying to watch the Kitten's-Den through the windshield. Walter had the cruiser parked across from the entrance of the place. Jinro had seen more faces than he could count go in and out. None of them he recognized. "But someone didn't want any connections to this place and tampered with evidence to make sure noone did. That's a crime."

"Come on, Jinro," Walter said and scratched himself. "We don't even know what to look for."

"That would be true," Jinro said and lifted his compact binoculars. "Except look around you. How many AgraCon faces do you see in this crowd."

"Not many," Walter said and shrugged. "I'm surprised they even let them out of the arco."

"I got a feeling about this place. They wouldn't have gone through the trouble of putting a replacement in Dean's wallet unless they felt it was significant."

"Jinro, I thought we had a talk about those," Walter sniffed and said. "We don't have time for this. Our case-log is already backed up and Dravenheath isn't happy about it."

Jinro lowered his specs and nodded. The crowd had progressively thickened and all he could see were asses and elbows. He put the binoculars away and checked to see that his .41 automatic was secure in the shoulder harness under his jacket. Then he opened the door and swung his legs out.

"What? Where you going?" Walter said as Jinro pulled himself out of the car and stretched the soreness out.

"I'm gonna get some air," Jinro said as he leaned back. "Come on, it would be a shame to miss the parade."

"Yeah," Walter sighed resignedly and unclipped his restraint harness. "Sure, why not?"

The suspension shifted as the driver's side door opened and Walter climbed out. The magnetic locks in the doors activated as Walter pressed the "Lock" button on the remote dangling from the key-chain.

"There's one thing I just don't get." Jinro said as he elbowed his way through the throng. That he stood a full head taller than most of the people around him helped. Walter stepped on as many toes as was necessary for the people around him to understand that he wanted them to move. He spoke good Chinese and used it repeatedly to apologize for the space his size required.

"Sorry... ah, dui bu qui ," Walter said as he drew up. "What's that?"

"Why would AgraCon want to keep us away from this place?" Jinro said, loudly to be heard over the din. The air was thick with black-powder smoke from firecrackers and the pungent smell of sweating flesh. "So one of their bigwigs drops by every now and again to get his jollies. What's the big deal about that? I mean, a man's only human."

"Maybe it's against company policy," Walter said. "He had a wife and kids, plus a pretty good standing in the AgraCon community."

"Yeah, but he can't be the only one." Jinro said as he waited for a break in the flow of revelers to cross the street. There'd be parades for the next four days. He lifted his head to examine the source of a droning he heard.

"That's true." Walter said sheepishly. He wasn't a stranger to such places but his wife went along when he did. He insisted it was because she enjoyed the female form, but Jinro suspected it was more to keep him in line. It was curious either way but Walter didn't seem to mind. The spluttering sounds of many small, gasoline engines drew his attention upward.

Businessmen, with ties fluttering, rode sky-bikes like metal horses through the chilly February air. The gasoline powered, Aluminum-framed craft mounted twin-ducted fans to provided lift and steering. They were quiet, could carry the weight of a man, and were sold in kit form for several thousand in Municipal script. With a top speed of 200 miles per hour, each full tank was good for an hour of flight. It was a perfect way for them to bypass crowded streets and could get them from housing enclave to office with a minimum of disturbance from the masses. Roofs made impromptu landing pads for dozens of vehicles and so far there had been one collapse.

Walter looked up and smiled as a businesswoman flew past, wearing a leather pilot's helmet and goggles and a skirt that billowed out.

"I gotta get me a sky-bike."

"Me, too," Walter said. "But I don't think they make them in my size, those fans would probably come apart trying to pick me up."

"I'm surprised none of those rooftops they use for landing pads haven't collapsed yet," Jinro said raised himself up on his toes. "Here we go, we got a break."

He dashed between a pagoda float and the battalion of lantern-girls that trailed behind it. He could hear Walter groan and start after him, he was huffing and puffing when he got across and drew alongside.

Jinro waited patiently for the doorman to acknowledge him. The doorman was bald, wore a red silk robe embroidered with golden cranes and a long Fu-Manchu moustache.

"Good day, gentlemen," Bald Fu said. "How may this temple of delights serve you during this celebration?"

Jinro nodded and said, "We're looking for one of your employees."

"Of course you are." Bald Fu smiled and chuckled inside himself.

"Is there a lady named Miki employed by this establishment?" Jinro said. "If there is we'd like to see her."

"Perhaps," Bald Fu said and crossed his arms. "Do you have a reservation, sir?"

"Yeah," Jinro said as he pulled out his badge. "I'm listed under John Q. Law. I think we might have reservations. Why don't you check again?"

Bald Fu scrutinized the ID card beside the badge until he was sure it was authentic. He handed it back with a polite smile.

"Of course, gentlemen," He said and unhooked the velvet rope impeding their progress. "Table for two?"

***

The Den was everything that Walter had told him it was and wasn't. It was dark, and very warm. The jacket he wore to conceal his shoulder rig was too heavy. Once through the doors, Bald Fu led them into a long hallway that gently sloped down and opened into a larger room. The place wasn't as seedy as Jinro had presumed. Hanging along each wall were marquee posters showing various semi-clothed women in cheesecake pose. There was a name at the bottom of each one.