“So someone’s covering it up.”
“That’s our take. We’re pushing to find out who. I’m also putting some of our informants out on the streets to see if Xiao Long’s name is linked to a girl named Meili. He’s been running his gang here since the mid-nineties, slowly growing his empire. Now we’re pretty sure it’s triad-funded. In which case, he’d be tight enough with the right people to find out if the Rothberg he’d killed for had been ripped off and sold to Henry Fong.”
“Or resold to Fong,” Derek amended. “If the Fong Triad is the one Xiao’s working with, this Meili could have gone to Zhang because she knew Fong would want his stolen painting back. But you’re right. We’ve got to follow up on this Meili lead. She’s our tie to the Rothberg, and to whomever Xiao gave it to.”
“And whoever that is is now funding Xiao and the Black Eagles.”
“Right.” Derek glanced up as a group of pedestrians crossed the street. “I gotta go. Let me know what you dig up on Martino and Xiao’s employment agency. I’ll see what I can find out from Johnson. I know this case seems like a giant can of worms. But my gut still tells me it’s all part of one big puzzle. We’ve just got to get our hands on the right pieces, and then figure out how they fit together.”
Derek was right about Ben grabbing his cell phone the instant Derek left.
But he was wrong about who Ben called.
His first call was to Xiao Long. He had to warn him that the FBI was piecing things together, or Xiao would send that big ape Jin Huang over to break his legs. Or worse—do it himself. Jin Huang was a hefty, menacing guy. But Xiao called the shots. And he had an icy coldness about him that was eerily terrifying. It was as if the man had no soul.
Ben wasn’t pushing him any more than he had to. Besides, he’d find out about Derek Parker’s visit anyway; Xiao Long had eyes everywhere. Better the news should come directly from him.
Xiao wasn’t happy. But he wasn’t surprised either. In broken English, he told Ben to go on as usual, keep his mouth shut, and leave the rest to him.
Ben didn’t even want to know what that meant.
His second call was to Phil. He’d never wanted to make this call, but the time had come. His choices were nil. And he was just drunk enough to get it all out before he changed his mind.
Almost all of it.
“Phil, I need your help,” he began, the minute his friend answered.
“You’re drunk,” Phil replied.
“And getting drunker by the minute. Listen to me. You’re the numbers genius. I don’t know where else to turn. I’m being squeezed, and I can’t get out of it.”
Phil gave an ironic laugh.
Ben didn’t even hear it. “I’ve been getting my workers from the same Asian employment agency for years. A couple of years ago it was taken over by another company. Their prices were great, so I stuck with them. Then I found out why they were so cheap. Without my knowing it, they’d been sending me illegals. When I tried to break off the relationship, they tripled their prices and threatened to tip off the cops if I opened my mouth. They’ve been upping the prices ever since. I’ve sold off everything I can. I’m about to go bankrupt.”
“You’ve got company. I’m in a major financial hole. So if you’re looking for a loan, there’s no way…”
“I don’t want a loan. I want a solution. Because it gets worse. Sloane’s boyfriend just left the factory. Besides mentioning my DWI and asking questions about Wallace and me not being there when you sold the Rothberg, he spotted the agency’s business cards on my desk. He must know they’re dirty. So I’m going bankrupt for nothing. I’ll end up in jail or dead on the street anyway.”
“Did he actually say he saw the business cards or knew the agency is crooked? Or are you just overreacting because you’re wasted?”
“I don’t know…I don’t know.” Ben dropped his head to his hands. “But I’m not kidding about being dead on the street. If Parker keeps poking around, the crooked bastards I’m dealing with are going to kill me. Without batting an eye, they’ll cut me into little pieces, toss me in a Dumpster, and go out for noodles.”
“Slow down, Ben. Get a grip. And let me think.” A long, drawn-out pause. “Actually, I might have an idea.”
“What?”
“Give me a little time to work this through. I’ll call you back in a couple hours. I might just have the answer to both our problems. Now go drink some coffee and sober up.”
Ben flipped his phone shut. He should be relieved. And on some level, he was. But the answer to all his problems? Not a prayer. There were some things that could never be fixed.
He didn’t need coffee. He needed absolution.
Derek left Johnson’s gallery an hour later. The man was smooth. Derek might have learned nothing if Jeff hadn’t called right after the meeting, as Derek was wolfing down two hot dogs. But now he had two solid links.
It wasn’t the whole picture.
But it was enough to convince him that it was time Sloane knew what he was up to.