Chapter 12
The clock on the wall of the dojo said it was 3:55.
Harry Wong stood, hands on hips, staring at his new class of recruits straight out of Annapolis. “Listen up, midshipmen! I have been in business for more years than I care to remember, and I can truthfully say you are the sorriest bunch I’ve ever had the misfortune to have enter my hallowed doors. I expected . . . hell, I don’t even know what the word is to describe you miserable human beings. You’re a bunch of wusses. The only thing I can say for you is you sweat like a bunch of girls. Smelly sweat at that. I train women who, in the blink of an eye, could nail your sorry asses to the wall and not break a sweat. You don’t even have the grace to look ashamed or embarrassed. And to think you are going to be the ones possibly running our military someday in the future somehow makes me want to puke.
“I’m stuck with you because I signed a contract with the powers that be, the ones who control your lives, at least for now. By the time you get back to Annapolis in that fancy bus you arrived in, my report will be in the hands of your superiors. You need to think about that on the ride back.” A hand shot in the air. Harry ignored it. Another hand went up.
“Here is my number-one rule: you never speak to me unless I give you permission. Here is rule number two: you never, ever question me. Rule three is you never offer up an excuse. One last thing. When you return here tomorrow, bring a check with you. I’m changing your workout clothes to pink. You have to pay for the privilege of wearing pink.You want to act like girls, then you are going to dress like them. You also get to pay for the photo op that will follow you back to your superiors.”
Harry looked at the clock on the wall. He had one minute left. “I am giving permission now for one question if anyone wishes to pose one.” No one did. Harry smiled his special evil smile when he heard someone in the back row say, “I hate your fucking guts, Master whatever the hell your name is. And I’d like to see you deck me out in one of your shitty pink outfits.”
The door opened at the front of the dojo. Ah, private investigator Mike Suliman. Right on time. Harry smiled again. He did so love punctuality, especially punctuality brought on by fear.
“You’re dismissed, midshipmen.” It was all Harry could do to keep a straight face as the midshipmen scrambled to form straight lines and bow to Master Wong. At least they’d gotten that part right.
Harry walked out of the training room and up to the front of the dojo, where a nervous-looking Mike Suliman was viewing, with some trepidation, the plaques and pictures on Harry’s four walls. His insides started to curdle when Harry motioned him to take a seat. “Tea?”
Suliman hated tea. Cold tea, hot tea, herbal tea, he hated it all. He was a coffee drinker. He was an eight-cups-of-coffee-a-day man. “I’d love a cup of tea, Mr. Wong.”
Harry putzed and puttered with the little pot of tea behind a bamboo partition. His object was to have Suliman nervous and twitchy to the point he would do whatever Harry wanted. Fear was such a strong motivator. He leaned up against the wall as he contemplated his next move, which was to call Jack to see if he had any ideas on how he wanted Suliman handled. But he’d have to go somewhere else to make the call. More stall time for Suliman.
Harry handed over the small cup with no handles to the detective. “Enjoy your tea, Mr. Suliman. I have something I have to attend to. I’ll be back in a few moments. As you know, tea is to be savored, to be enjoyed.”
“Uh-huh,” Suliman grunted. He took a cautious sip when Harry left the room. The tea tasted like tree bark, wet dog, and moldy leaves.
While Mike Suliman was gagging over his tea, Harry was hissing and snarling at Jack on the phone. “What? What? Spell it out, Jack. I already scared the shit out of him. You want me to coddle him? How the hell do I know if he’s reliable? You want me to make sure he’s on our side as a double agent when he leaves here, is that what you’re saying?” Harry listened. “How much of a bonus? Yeah, yeah, how many times have I heard you say money talks and bullshit walks? Too many to count. And what did Abner find out about him when he ran his profile?” Harry listened again. “Okay, I got it. I’ll call you back when he leaves.” Just as he was about to break the connection, he heard Jack ask about the midshipmen. Harry laughed and then filled Jack in with all the details from his class with the midshipmen.
“That bad, huh? Well, you’ll whip them into shape. Pink, huh? Oooh, I like that, Harry. Tell them West Point is sending its graduating class to you for a full month of training in January, then say there will be a dust-off when both sides compete, and Navy has to wear pink unless they perform to your standards. It’s that old Army-Navy thing. See ya, Harry.”
Harry was grinning from ear to ear when he finally signed off. Now, why didn’t he think of that? Guess that’s why Jack earned the big bucks.
Back in the waiting room, Harry eyed the private detective and the empty teacup. “More?”
“Ah . . . no thanks. Can we just get to it, Wong.”
“I like that, a man who likes to get to the point, as long as it’s my point.” Harry straddled a straight-backed chair and focused on the detective. “Okay, Mr. Suliman, this is what I know.You’re thirty-two years old, never married. You have women falling all over you because you like to wine and dine and party with them. That takes a lot of money. You live in a crappy garden apartment and make the rent, which is quite reasonable, by the skin of your teeth. You drive a muscle car, payments up to date. You work out at Gold’s Gym, which is a high-dollar place to get fit. You wear Brooks Brothers suits, but you do have one Armani that you haul out for special occasions. You have monogrammed cuffs on your shirts. You take a Caribbean vacation twice a year that you can’t afford, and your credit cards are about maxed out. How’m I doing so far?”
Suliman grunted.
“Okay, you wear boxers and like bold . . . um . . . patterns. You save the tidy whities for your dates to show off your muscular legs. You have a six-pack of designer beer in your refrigerator, twenty-seven bags of Ramen noodles, and your brown eggs expired last month. You need to throw them out, Mr. Suliman. You whiten your teeth, use Crest for cavities, and have a variety of manly colognes.”
“You son of a bitch; you invaded my space!” the detective exploded.
“How does it feel, you piece of shit? Okay, now that we have leveled the playing field, we’re starting from square one. You on board or not?”
“Yeah, I’m on board. Spell it out, Wong.”
“Okay, I want to know everything your fellow dicks find out about my colleagues. Daily. You screw up, and you will regret it. I will tell you what you report to Miss Spritzer, so we will have a standing six o’clock appointment daily. How you ferret out the reports from your colleagues is up to you, but I want detailed information. As a reward, you will be paid one thousand dollars a week. In cash. Under the table. No paper trail. You following me here?”
All Suliman heard was $1,000 a week in cash. Man, this weirdo was truly saving his ass. He nodded because he felt too giddy to speak.
“Do we have a deal, Suliman?”
The detective finally got his tongue to work. “We have a deal.”
Harry nodded. “I have a class coming to the dojo in fifteen minutes. I want you to sit here and compile your first report. Be as creative as you wish. I’ll be grading you. I’m going to help you out here, so that you can talk to your fellow workers. My colleagues will be filtering in here one by one, starting at six o’clock, at which point you will be outside in the cold watching this dojo. You can all convene outside the dojo, talk it to death, but lead them to believe this dojo is where all the action takes place. Secret meetings, telephone calls, strange goings-on. Like I said, be creative. I want you to fax me a copy of your daily report by nine this evening. Before you report to Spritzer. In case I need to make any changes.”
“You’re trying to screw this Spritzer babe, is that it?”
“That’s a rather crude way of putting it, Mr. Suliman, but yes, we want to come out on top. With your help. By the way, when this is all over, and you’ve complied with all I asked you to do, I’m authorized to tell you there is a bonus of ten thousand dollars on the table.”
Suliman barely heard the words; his mind was already on possibly relocating to one of the high-rises in Crystal City and turning his life around. Maybe this psycho kung fu artist was his savior. Well, damn.
Harry favored Suliman with his evil smile, narrowed his eyes, then turned and padded away.
When his heartbeat returned to normal, Mike Suliman took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Well, damn!