Page 65 of The Killer’s Mark

Tai-young Lee nodded. ‘Just as well she did. We haven’t seen triad activity around here for a while, but your name’s flagged for my attention and I was in the area. I pressed the urgent assistance button and we mobbed the place. Good thing too. That man is not a nice man, Poe.’

‘You know him?’

She nodded. ‘He’s called Dongyang Dong.’

‘Seriously? No wonder he’s angry. Is he with the Forty-Fours?’

‘He’s a Blue Lantern, the mafia equivalent of an associate, but we don’t think he’s with the Forty-Fours. He’s definitely a triad, though. I guess that’s why you’re here?’

‘I was just—’

‘Having lunch. Got it.’

‘You’ll hold him?’

‘For as long as we can, but he hasn’t broken the law.’

‘He won’t come back,’ Poe said. ‘He’ll assume Stowell Street is being watched.’

‘Tell me what you’re doing in my city, Poe. You never know, I might be able to—’

Her radio burped into life. She walked away and answered it. Came back and said, ‘Duty calls. Do you want me to escort you to your vehicle?’

Poe shook his head. ‘I haven’t ordered yet.’

Esmerée slid back into the seat opposite. ‘And I want my frogs’ legs, dammit!’ Her alien hand then picked up a chopstick and threw it on the floor. It went for another, but she grabbed her right hand with her left and held it under the table. When it was under control, she reached for her unfinished Diet Coke as if nothing had happened. Tai-young Lee stared. Didn’t say a word.

‘What?’ Esmerée said.

Lee shook her head. ‘Do you not know anyone normal, Poe?’

Chapter 55

‘I wouldn’t mind a beer with my chow mein, Poe,’ Esmerée said.

‘You’re not having alcohol.’

‘Hey, I saved your butt. Called nine-one-one on those assholes.’

‘You mean nine-nine-nine.’

‘What’s that?’

‘The emergency number you called.’

‘Nine-one-one’s the emergency number, doofus.’

‘Only in America. In the rest of the world, it’s nine-nine-nine.’ Poe didn’t know if that was true. Thought it probably wasn’t. ‘You really called your own emergency number?’

‘Sure.’ She unlocked her new iPhone and typed something into the search engine. ‘Says that if nine-one-one is called over here, it’ll go through to the cops anyway.’

‘Really?’

‘Sure does, buddy.’ She tapped something else into her phone. ‘And wow, maybe this isn’t such a lame-ass country after all. According to BackRub, sixteen-year-olds can have a beer or cider or a glass of wine at a licensed restaurant if accompanied by a responsible adult.’

‘That counts me out then. And what the heck is BackRub?’

‘It’s what Google was called before it became Google,’ she replied. She threw her phone on the table. ‘C’mon, man. One beer.’