as we take you away from it, put you on a harmless fact-gathering detail, it comes looking for you, leaving bodies from your house to Chinatown and back.”
“I didn’t ask for trouble, Lieutenant,” Harry said.
“That’s what so incredible, Harry,” Bressler replied. “I know that. I know you don’t go out of your way to find trouble. It just seems to find you. But try to explain that to Captain Avery. Try to explain that to Captain McKay. Try to explain that to the chief and the commissioner! They seem to think you’re some kind of goddamn Charles Bronson in Death Wish, for Christ’s sake!”
“Well, it’s not like my file is full of saving cats from trees,” Harry admitted.
“You’ve got a tiger by the tail this time, Harry,” Bressler said, growing serious. “The drug smugglers were a clean bust. Those guys were suspected of murdering several crewsful of pleasure boaters, but the guy you shot outside your apartment could be trouble.”
“What do you mean?” Harry asked.
“The coroner says he was Jap. As near as I can figure he must be a member of one of these Oriental street gangs that have been driving us crazy all these years. You know the setup, Harry. It’s a closed society in Chinatown. We couldn’t do anything about the mess down there if we wanted to. Hell, it’s better if we don’t! We start messing around and a lot of innocents’ll get hurt.”
“It looks like they’re already beginning to,” Harry reminded him.
“And that’s what’s worrying me,” Bressler said, coming around to sit on the edge of his desk. “These guys probably grabbed this Michelle girl for reasons all their own. I can’t begin to figure it out. You lived in the same building, Harry. You got any ideas?”
Harry thought about it. His private life was his own business. He didn’t talk about it to anyone. No one knew he and Suni were occasional lovers. The only reason one of the reporters asked is that reporters always wanted to aggravate their target. It had been a lucky guess.
But Harry now had enough information to safely assume that Suni was taken by the Nihonmachi underworld for some reason having to do with their fight for attention and power. But as far as he could tell, there was little or nothing the police force could do about it. The girl stood a better chance without an army of cops seeking to clean up Japantown, but with one enforcer who couldn’t give a shit about gang wars and just wanted to rescue her.
“No,” he lied to his immediate superior. “No ideas.”
“Well, whatever way it pans out,” Bressler went on, looking over Harry’s shoulder through the office window at the small army of detectives trying to sort out the mass of murders on their rosters, “it’s not our headache.” He looked back at Callahan pointedly. “You read me, Inspector?” he asked. “This is Missing Persons’ baby. And . . .” the lieutenant checked his watch, “in about sixteen hours the FBI will come in. Let them handle it, is that clear?”
Harry scowled. Rather than answering, he threw a curve ball into the conversation. “What about the Chinatown murders? That’s not a Missing Persons case.”
Bressler stood up, fixing Harry with an impatient stare before turning back toward his seat. As he took up his position behind the desk, he pulled a sheet of paper from his top drawer. “Very true, Inspector,” he said formally. “I’ve already set up a homicide task force to look into it. Your name is not on the list.” Bressler threw down the paper and ran his hands through his hair. Callahan, could see it wasn’t easy for him.
“Come on, Harry,” he finally said, all rigidity out of his voice and demeanor. “It’s for your own good. You know how these Oriental street gangs operate. All that shit about maintaining face and seeking revenge for shame. Well, you just shot one right in the back. You take a step into Chinatown and your life won’t be worth a plug
“I didn’t ask for trouble, Lieutenant,” Harry said.
“That’s what so incredible, Harry,” Bressler replied. “I know that. I know you don’t go out of your way to find trouble. It just seems to find you. But try to explain that to Captain Avery. Try to explain that to Captain McKay. Try to explain that to the chief and the commissioner! They seem to think you’re some kind of goddamn Charles Bronson in Death Wish, for Christ’s sake!”
“Well, it’s not like my file is full of saving cats from trees,” Harry admitted.
“You’ve got a tiger by the tail this time, Harry,” Bressler said, growing serious. “The drug smugglers were a clean bust. Those guys were suspected of murdering several crewsful of pleasure boaters, but the guy you shot outside your apartment could be trouble.”
“What do you mean?” Harry asked.
“The coroner says he was Jap. As near as I can figure he must be a member of one of these Oriental street gangs that have been driving us crazy all these years. You know the setup, Harry. It’s a closed society in Chinatown. We couldn’t do anything about the mess down there if we wanted to. Hell, it’s better if we don’t! We start messing around and a lot of innocents’ll get hurt.”
“It looks like they’re already beginning to,” Harry reminded him.
“And that’s what’s worrying me,” Bressler said, coming around to sit on the edge of his desk. “These guys probably grabbed this Michelle girl for reasons all their own. I can’t begin to figure it out. You lived in the same building, Harry. You got any ideas?”
Harry thought about it. His private life was his own business. He didn’t talk about it to anyone. No one knew he and Suni were occasional lovers. The only reason one of the reporters asked is that reporters always wanted to aggravate their target. It had been a lucky guess.
But Harry now had enough information to safely assume that Suni was taken by the Nihonmachi underworld for some reason having to do with their fight for attention and power. But as far as he could tell, there was little or nothing the police force could do about it. The girl stood a better chance without an army of cops seeking to clean up Japantown, but with one enforcer who couldn’t give a shit about gang wars and just wanted to rescue her.
“No,” he lied to his immediate superior. “No ideas.”
“Well, whatever way it pans out,” Bressler went on, looking over Harry’s shoulder through the office window at the small army of detectives trying to sort out the mass of murders on their rosters, “it’s not our headache.” He looked back at Callahan pointedly. “You read me, Inspector?” he asked. “This is Missing Persons’ baby. And . . .” the lieutenant checked his watch, “in about sixteen hours the FBI will come in. Let them handle it, is that clear?”
Harry scowled. Rather than answering, he threw a curve ball into the conversation. “What about the Chinatown murders? That’s not a Missing Persons case.”
Bressler stood up, fixing Harry with an impatient stare before turning back toward his seat. As he took up his position behind the desk, he pulled a sheet of paper from his top drawer. “Very true, Inspector,” he said formally. “I’ve already set up a homicide task force to look into it. Your name is not on the list.” Bressler threw down the paper and ran his hands through his hair. Callahan, could see it wasn’t easy for him.
“Come on, Harry,” he finally said, all rigidity out of his voice and demeanor. “It’s for your own good. You know how these Oriental street gangs operate. All that shit about maintaining face and seeking revenge for shame. Well, you just shot one right in the back. You take a step into Chinatown and your life won’t be worth a plug
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