![](\"https:\/\/steemitimages.com\/DQmaWwh3UkWSAjVHmhW5kYDoAdfC7mnTo4vs9pmPuwUbYjN\/image.png\")
<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Sorting out the shooting took the rest of the night and most of the following morning. Sustaining themselves with coffee and cigarettes, the detectives, police and private, endured interminable interviews and waded through never-ending seas of paperwork until Wong at last pulled strings and expedited their release from the clutches of the all-consuming bureaucracy.<\/p>\n
Inside Wong\u2019s office, the police detectives recounted their tale once more to their boss, while the private detective remained mostly silent, save to fill in a few blanks. As the men spoke, a frown appeared on Wong\u2019s face, and steadily grew deeper.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe underestimated Shen,\u201d Zhou concluded. \u201cWe should have gone in with more manpower, more firepower, more vehicles.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat would have just tipped him off,\u201d Chan said. \u201cHalf the police is in the pocket of the triads. If we\u2019d called for help outside our group, Shen would never have showed up.\u201d<\/p>\n
Lee folded his arms. \u201cOn the bright side, we took four of his thugs off the street. Permanently.\u201d<\/p>\n
Wong grunted sullenly. The gunmen were just hired hands, easily replaceable. With Shen still at large, it was a small victory.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s the next step?\u201d Lee asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll start hitting up my contacts and pressure them to keep an eye out for Shen,\u201d Chan said.<\/p>\n
\u201cI burned the only informant I have who had a direct line to Shen,\u201d Zhou said. \u201cShen would cut ties with the informant. I\u2019m back at square one.\u201d<\/p>\n
Wong scribbled on a piece of paper and held it up.<\/p>\n
Time is of the essence. We must catch him. Quickly.<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cIt sounds like you have a burning reason to find him,\u201d Lee said.<\/p>\n Wong kept writing.<\/p>\n Word on the the street is that the triads are ordering guns and ammo on the black market. They may be preparing for a gang war. Shen is their primary supplier. If we don\u2019t catch Shen, Shanghai will bleed.<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cWhich triad?\u201d Lee asked. \u201cWho\u2019s their boss?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTang Shuisheng,\u201d Zhou said.<\/p>\n Lee was well-acquainted with that name. Tang owned a fifth of the city, both legit and underworld. In the days when Lee still had a badge, their ways had crossed more than a few times. Nothing good could come from Tang arming up.<\/p>\n \u201cIf you know all this, it means you have an informant in the triad. Maybe more than one. Correct?\u201d Lee asked.<\/p>\n Wong nodded.<\/p>\n \u201cTang\u2019s not the kind of man to get his hands dirty,\u201d Lee mused. \u201cHe\u2019ll delegate the purchase to one of his subordinates.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCorrect,\u201d Chan said. \u201cOne of our informants says that Tang\u2019s deputy, Wu Ye, handles logistics, including purchases of firearms. Wu Ye will deal with Shen in person.\u201d<\/p>\n Lee steepled his fingers. \u201cIf we can\u2019t find the supplier, we might have better luck finding the customer.\u201d<\/p>\n Wong smiled, and wrote.<\/p>\n I have a source close to Wu Ye. He can tell us when Wu Ye will be buying guns from Shen.<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cWhen they do meet, we can kill two birds with one stone,\u201d Chan declared.<\/p>\n \u201cSounds good to me,\u201d Zhou said.<\/p>\n “I do\u00a0not<\/em>\u00a0want to be ambushed like the last time,” Lee said. “We need backup.”<\/p>\n “Who can we trust not to tip off the targets?” Chan asked.<\/p>\n “The Reserve Unit.”<\/p>\n The elite of the Shanghai Municipal Police, they took the war on crime to the criminals’ doorstep. Rioters, kidnappers, armed robbers, they were all under the purview of the Reserve Unit. Heavily-armed gunrunners would count. Most importantly, Lee knew that William E. Fairbairn, the leader and founder of the Reserve Unit, had bled too much to sell out to the criminals.<\/p>\n As one, the police detectives nodded.<\/p>\n The sun was high in the sky when Lee finally emerged from the Central Police Station. With every step he felt like he was wading through a watery wall of heat. Sweat gathered in his armpits, his tongue dried out, and his shirt clung to his back.<\/p>\n Finally surrendering to the inevitable, Lee ducked into a tea house for a late breakfast, or perhaps it was an early lunch. After a fight, he usually found himself ravenous, and today was no exception. He indulged himself with plates of dim sum and cups of hot sweet tea, returning the long stares of passers-by and patrons with hard looks of his own. There was no challenge in his eyes, just a simple acknowledgment that yes, he was mixed-blood, and no, today was not a good day to trifle with him.<\/p>\n Now fortified, he took a long and circuitous route back home. His route spanned three trams, two trolleybuses, and a full hour on foot walking round and round in ever-tightening circles.<\/p>\n Old habits died hard. In his police days, whenever he arrested, fought or shot a gangster, Lee always took extra precautions on the street. The streets of Shanghai had long memories, and grudges demanded repayment in blood. Even now, as a civilian, he insisted on this routine. Paranoia, perhaps, but it was a privilege enjoyed only by the living.<\/p>\n Satisfied that no Triad hatchet men were hunting him, Lee returned to his apartment. The events of the last night had taken his toll, and he was no longer a young man. Between his lack of sleep and the magnificent meal, he was ready to crash into bed for the rest of the day. Already he felt tension gathering around his temples and shoulders, a sure sign he was on his last legs.<\/p>\n All the same, he remained vigilant. He looked both ways before entering his apartment block, and saw no suspicious strangers or vehicles. No goons waited for him in the main corridor of his floor. Fishing out his keys, he unlocked the door, stepped through\u2014<\/p>\n And seated on his living room sofa was a man.<\/p>\n An older man, dressed in a smart red suit, arms nonchalantly sprawled all over the sofa, shoes firmly planted on the floor. A familiar man, with a familiar smile, the smile of a snake greeting a rat that crawled into its lair.<\/p>\n A man named Tang Shuisheng.<\/p>\n Previous parts:\u00a01<\/a>,\u00a02<\/a><\/p>\n
\n
\n![\"Cheah](\"https:\/\/steemitimages.com\/0x0\/https:\/\/steemitimages.com\/DQmNPjQAkaGvtrys87bjqAghP62AqHAB7edWEt44bH8yfwD\/Cheah%20Git%20San%20Red.jpg\")
<\/p>\n