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*
The Blazer, speeding down the alleyway that led to the rear of the Changs' apartment.
The Ghost, gripping his Model 51 pistol in one hand, the leather-clad steering wheel in the other.
The Turks, poised to leap from the SUV.
They burst from the alley into a large parking lot--and found a huge semi truck bearing down on them, head-on.
With a deep groan of brakes the truck began to skid.
The Ghost shoved his foot down on the brake pedal--instinctively striking the floor with his left foot as well, hitting the spot where the clutch in his BMW sports car was. The Blazer swerved and skidded to a stop door-to-door with the truck. He gasped and felt his heart stutter from the near-miss.
"What the fuck're you doing?" the truck driver shouted. He leaned down toward the Blazer's driver's-side window. "It's one-way, you fucking Jap! You come to this country, learn the fucking rules."
The Ghost was too shaken to answer.
The driver put the truck in gear and pulled past the Chevy.
The Ghost thanked his god, Yi the archer, for saving him from death. Ten seconds later and they would have collided head-on with the truck.
Starting forward slowly, the Ghost glanced at the Turks, who were looking around with frowns. They were confused, troubled.
"Where it is?" asked Yusuf, who was gazing at the large parking lot in which they found themselves. "The Changs' apartment? I cannot see it."
There were no residences anywhere around here.
The Ghost checked the address. The number was correct; this was the place. Except . . . except that it was a large retail shopping center. The alleyway that the Ghost had turned into was one of the exits from the parking lot.
"Gan," the Ghost spat out.
"What happened?" one of the Turks in the back asked him.
What had happened was that Chang hadn't trusted Jimmy Mah, the Ghost realized. He'd given the tong leader a fake address. He'd probably seen an advertisement for this place. He glanced up at the big sign over their heads.
The Home Store
Your source for every house and lawn need
The Ghost considered what to do. The other immigrant, Wu, probably hadn't been so clever. He had used Mah's broker to get an apartment. The Ghost had the name of the broker and they could find out the location of that family quickly.
"We'll get the Wus now," the Ghost said. "Then we'll find the Changs."
Naixin.
All in good time.
*
Sam Chang hung up the phone.
Numb, he stood for a moment, staring at a TV show, which depicted a living room very different from the one he was now in and a content and silly family very different from his own. He glanced at Mei-Mei, who was looking at him with a querying glance. He shook his head and she dutifully returned to Po-Yee, the baby. Chang then crouched down beside his father and whispered to him, "Mah is dead."
"Mah?"
"The loaban in Chinatown, the one who helped us. I called to ask about our papers. His girl said that he was dead."
"The Ghost? That was who killed him?"
