CHAPTER
23
Autumn Festival Gifts
The wind howled and needles of rain hit the back of Bero’s neck as he hefted the last of the boxes into the van and clambered in after it. The other boy, who they called Cheeky, yanked the back doors shut. “Go! GO!” Bero shouted at the driver.
The van squealed into motion, throwing Bero against the wall of the vehicle. He crawled up and around the containers packed with cartons of expensive brand-name wallets, shoes, handbags, and belts—and squeezed through the middle of the van into the passenger side seat. He stuck his head out the window to look behind them—the truck driver was still lying on his stomach under his semitrailer with his hands over his head. There was no sign of pursuit.
Pulling his head back into the van, Bero rolled up the window and relaxed a little, then more so once the van hit the KI-1 freeway, speeding southward away from the Docks. The rain picked up, splattering the windshield as fast as the noisy wipers could handle. Through the shimmery glare of water, the lights of the other cars on the road were bright red splotches, like Autumn Festival lamps. Bero shoved the pistol more securely into the waistband of his pants and whooped as he punched the van’s ceiling. “That was cut, kekes.”
The entire operation had taken less than five minutes. Speed and planning were the key to a successful lift. Security was tight, and mistakes were
deadly; armed guards protected the ships, and Green Bones patrolled the Docks. The best approach was to hijack trailer trucks once they had been loaded but before they entered the motorway. Bero was new at this game, but he was a quick study and hungry for work. This was his third successful lift in as many weeks. That pleased Mudt, which in turn, pleased the people behind Mudt, people Bero very much wanted to meet.
The driver of the van, an untalkative man named Tas, who had bad skin and only ever wore black T-shirts, pulled the van off the freeway into the south part of Junko. He drove into the alley behind the Goody Too discount store and backed up to the open garage door. Mudt came out to inspect the goods. He grunted in satisfaction and counted out payment on the top of a secondhand pool table while Cheeky unloaded the merchandise with the help of Mudt’s teenage son. “You have to be more careful now,” Mudt said, throwing in an extra bit of cash for each of them. “The clans are going at each other.”
Clan war was both opportunity and danger. Green Bones busy fighting each other were less vigilant against thieves and smugglers, but they made up for the lapse by being more merciless to those they caught, especially any with possible ties to enemy clans. “You got more tips for us?” Bero asked, zipping the money into the inside pocket of his jacket. A gust of strong wind rattled the half-open garage door.
Mudt pulled a folded manila envelope from his back pocket and held it out to Tas. The man shook his head. “I’m out.”
“You’re out?” Bero exclaimed. “After that kind of a lift?”
Tas grumbled, “Not ready to die yet. Gonna quit while I’m ahead.” He jerked his chin at Bero. “Give it to him.” Tas walked back to the van.
Mudt didn’t even watch Tas go. He passed the envelope to Bero, who opened it and glanced inside quickly: several sheets of paper stapled together.
A list of JK Trucking company’s schedule in and out of Summer Harbor for the next sixty days. He smiled, impressed at Mudt’s access to such useful information. He stowed it inside his jacket next to the cash.
A blast of rain blew into the garage, drenching the concrete floor, shaking box flaps and loose items. “Hey!” Mudt shouted at his son. “Close that door before we drown here. Then go back out front and start taping up the windows. Yofo’s in a fucking mood. Typhoon’s coming, tomorrow or the day after, for sure.” He ran a hand through his damp, wiry hair. His sleeve
fell a few inches down his forearm and Bero glimpsed needle track marks on the inside of the man’s wrists. Mudt motioned Cheeky over, then said to both him and Bero, in a conspiratorial voice, “You boys have been doing good. So good that someone wants to meet you. Maybe move you up, give you some more work. You cut with that?”
“Yeah, I’m cut,” Bero said. Cheeky gave a nervous sniff but nodded.
“I thought so.” Mudt turned toward the store. “Let’s go, then.”
“He’s here right now?” Bero asked.
“Right here, right now,” Mudt sang out, jovial, gesturing for them to follow him. “Today’s your lucky night, kekes.”
They walked through the inside garage door into the front of the store. It was long past closing time and the place was locked up. One strip of fluorescent lighting was turned on near the back, illuminating racks of sunglasses and bins of plastic sandals near the entrance to the restrooms.
Shadowy aisles stretched away into the rest of the building. The only other two people inside were Mudt’s son, who was unrolling blue masking tape in large Xs across the windows, and a man, sitting in the dark on the cash register counter, a duffel bag on the ground below his feet.
Mudt walked Bero and Cheeky over to the man and brought his hands up to his forehead in salute. “These are the guys I told you about,” Mudt said.
“One of them wasn’t hungry enough and bailed out, so it’s just the two of them now.”
The man hopped off the table. He was a Green Bone, with a short goatee, jade bolts through his ears, and a jade ring in his nose. He wore a long forest green rain slicker over dark clothes and boots. He looked Bero and Cheeky over with mild interest, the hollows of his eyes shadowed. “What’re your names?”
Bero told him, then raised clasped hands. “And what do we call you, jen?”
“You don’t call me anything,” said the Green Bone. “I don’t know you and you don’t know me. This is No Peak territory. So if you’re caught by any of Kaul’s men, and they torture the shit out of you, you won’t be screaming my name.” At the boys’ silence, a smile curved the man’s mouth. “Does that frighten you? If it does, you might want to consider stepping back out that door the way you came.”
“We’re not frightened,” said Cheeky, not altogether convincingly.
“I want what Mudt has,” Bero said. “Just tell me how to get it.”
The Green Bone gave a knowing nod. “Jade fever’s a bitch, isn’t it? If you got your hands on a piece of green right now, without any training or some quality shine, you’d give off an aura like a fucking fire alarm. The first Green Bone to come anywhere near you would know you for a thief and kill you in three seconds flat.” The man paused, tugging lightly on his goatee. “Now Mudt here is a special case. See, he’s a friend of the clan: He tells us things we need to know, he does work for us in places we can’t be. We appreciate that, so we take care of him. He has, let’s call it … associate status. You could have that too, if you prove yourself to the clan.”
The boys nodded.
“Good. Green Bones take jade from the bodies of their enemies. So if you’re going to be a warrior, you’ll need weapons.” The goateed Green Bone knelt and unzipped the duffel bag at his feet. He withdrew a Fullerton C55 submachine gun. He handed it to Bero, then pulled out a second one and gave it to Cheeky. Bero felt the weight of the thing in his hands and sucked in a breath. He’d never owned anything bigger than a pocket-sized pistol and couldn’t believe his luck. He felt as if he were holding a baby; he didn’t know where to put his hands, how to properly cradle such a valuable object.
“Shit. This is for real? You’re giving these to us?”
“Happy Autumn Festival,” said the man. “You better practice a whole lot before I send you to use them. Mudt will show you how.” The Green Bone rose deadly fast and wrapped a hand around each of the boys’ throats. With no time to move or gasp, they froze. With his Strength he could tear out their windpipes. “If I hear that you held up a gas station or shot any bystanders, I’ll break all your bones, and then your necks. You work for me now, you understand?”
The boys nodded and he released them, giving them each a reassuring pat.
“For the time being, learn to use those things. Keep pulling the lifts at the Docks that Mudt’s been setting you up with. Keep your eyes and ears open, and don’t get caught. When I need you, I’ll let you know, and I’ll expect you
to be ready. You cut?”
“We’re cut, jen,” Bero said.
Outside, the wind had picked up. The silhouettes of trees whipped back and forth under the swaying streetlights. The roof of the building shook and creaked. Mudt’s son had finished taping the windows and disappeared into the back room.
The goateed Green Bone slung his duffel bag over his shoulder. “Best be going. The neighborhood and the weather aren’t so friendly. Mudt, good doing business with you, as usual.” He extended to Mudt the final item he’d brought out from the bag, an unmarked white cardboard container the size of a small shoebox, sealed with packing tape. Mudt reached for it eagerly, but the Green Bone pulled it back at the last second, holding it just out of reach.
His voice lowered, treading a line between friendly concern and unmistakable threat. “Are you following the rules, Mudt? Same dose every day, no hoarding or reselling?” When Mudt nodded vehemently, the Green Bone handed him the box and smiled. “Always important to have safety reminders.”
“Thank you, jen,” Mudt murmured, his relief palpable.
The Green Bone lifted the hood of his rain slicker over his head. His boots clomped down the dark center aisle of the Goody Too. He turned the lock, opened the door, and walked out into the approaching typhoon.