Jack saw the Brooklyn Bridge, the Lower Manhattan skyline. He said, without looking at Lucky, "You did me a solid. I owe you, so listen good to what I'm going to say."

Lucky shrugged his shoulders, listened.

"This is some heavy shit you're involved with. You think you're going to last forever? Remember Kid Taiwan? Mongo Jo? Riki Baby? All the dailo, big brothers, before you? They all thought they were big-time, like no one could touch them."

The Seaport, Brooklyn in the distance.

"They're all doing Federal time, Tat. Chinaman time. Everybodylooking-to-fuck you-over time. Time you get out, your dick will be too old to work."

He watched as Lucky smirked, flared up a cigarette, said, "If you're so concerned, just drop a dime, but let me know when they're coming for me."

Jack's eyes settled on the monolithic hulk of the Tombs Detention Facility.

"Can't do that, Lucky," he said in a voice like cool steel, "even if I knew."

Lucky mixed his words with cigarette smoke. "Don't bullshit me, man. You know the deal. The way you set up the Fuk Chings with the Feds, I know you got the juice."

Stroking me, Jack thought, running his knuckles across his eyebrows.

'just get out of the life before they come. Get out now. Yesterday. That's all I can tell you and I won't say it again."

"Thanks for nothing," Lucky sneered, "but I'll take my chances." He came close enough for the smoke accompanying his words to touch Jack's face.

"When Wing died, I learned two things. One, the only way to get anything is to take it. The only way you get respect is through power. Those who don't have power get out of Chinatown or they stay slaves. Second, the cops don't make a difference. They're just gwailo micks and guineas strolling the streets like they own the fuckin' place, call everybody chingchong wingwong, get a good laugh, right? You know it. They goof off for eight hours, write a few traffic tickets, then slide to the bar and swap Chinaman jokes. You remember, don't you? Cat fried lice? Tomaine lo mein? Hahaha. Fuckin' white bullneck mamalukes too dumb to do college end up as cops. Well, fuck that, and fuck them. We own the streets, not them. See, to me, to the boys, Chinatown is our life. Not a job, not a paycheck. Every minute, every day, we're here to stay."

Jack let him run on, enjoying it.

"Outside of here, we can't be nothing. But here, we can make enough money to be kings."

"Or die trying, right?"

"Try not to die trying," Lucky snapped back, crushing the cigarette into the roof wall. "You got a bug up your ass or what? You think you're Batman? Do good? Fight the gangs? Ha. Remember, Igot even for Wing. Not you. Not the cops. My boys took the Yings off the street. Forever. You know it, we took over."

Jack nodded. "Yeah," he said. "I know you did. So what? You became just like them, the punks that put the knife into Wing's heart. Just like them, you rip off your own people, and you deal poison to the junkies so they keep coming around fucking with our neighborhood. You brother-up with everything we used to hate."

Lucky did a slow circle around Jack. "When the fuck did you become Charlie Chan? You think it's going to be different because you're Chinese? That people here are going to give you more face? Respect you? You're part of the same corrupt shit, Jacky. The Blue Gang. NYPD Blue. Read the papers. Cops dealing drugs. Cops taking money. Cops fucking over anyone who ain't white. You heard of Rodney King? That badge don't make you no better, brother. You know the game. I get busted, half an hour I'm back on the street. You think you've stopped something because someone got arrested? Wake up, Jacky. See my side of things."

He stooped, matched up to Jack's eyes. "Chinaman cop. First sign of trouble, you'll be the first guy they give up. So what's with the cop thing? A steady paycheck? Trying to live large on chump change?"

Jack was silent, annoyance crossing his face, wondering how high the price would go. He leaned in, said, "Honest work, Tat. Something you wouldn't know about. Sure I know you think you're living large. Big-time bullshit gangsta hype. Doesn't your neck hurt looking over your shoulders all the time? I've seen you on the corner, shuffling, got your back to the wall. You sleep with one eye open. You got your gat under the pillow and jump when the phone jangles. You like living like that, big time? Living large?'

Lucky just smiled. "Come over to my side," he said. "Let's deal. What makes it work for you? Cash money don't move you? How about fresh pussy every week? You didn't go gaylo on me didja? Jewelry, fine clothes, a new ride? Can't touch it."

Jack frowned disdain into the corners of his mouth. "Won't touch it, brother," he said.

Lucky rolled on. "Like I said before, you don't have to do anything dirty. Just information, identification. Like that." A pause, then Lucky's eyes gleam sharp with an epiphany. "I get it. You can't admit what you want. All this brings some kinda dishonor to your cop thing. Okay, so go this way. I give you some inside dope, schemes and scams from the secret societies, who the players are, how it all works. You help the Feds take them down, be the big hero. You get promoted up the kazoo. Me, I don't care about that international I-Spy stuff. You give me information to protect my boys, and take out the local competition. I get them before they get me. That's all. You go up. I go large. Neither one of us gets trapped."

"Sure," Jack said finally. "Yeah, I'll think about it."

"But don't mistake the offer for weakness," Lucky said warily. "You wouldn't be the first cop on our pad. Not even the first Chinese cop."

Jack grinned, wondering which other Chinese cops were dirty? "Well, considering that this offer comes from a guy who's got all his cash stashed in a deposit box because he can't use the banks, and who's got everything leased or borrowed because his name ain't worth a shit, tell me why I should respect this offer?"

Lucky leaned in closer. "Because I know the way this game works. The same way I got the Yings out, you know I can make it happen. The information I get you will make you a lieutenant, a captain. You'll be retired before you're forty. With a cop pension. Retire like a big hero. Don't die broke and penniless like your old man, brother."

Jack stepped back. "Like I said, you should get out yesterday. You're only top dog until the next hungry Fuk Ching kid pops you just to make his bones."

Fuck you tugged up the corners of Lucky's mouth, contempt filling his eyes.

Jack looked east. "I'll think about it," he repeated.

"Well, take yourself a good serious think, man," Lucky chilled. "Because I ain't making this offer again. So don't bother coming back with a wire the next time we talk."

Their eyes battled a moment.

"And don't tell me you like being out there, dealing with the scummy low-life scabs of the city for sucker pay."

Lucky left Jack there, walked back into the shadow of the stairwell. The roof door slammed as he turned, went down the flights of stairs.

At the bottom landing, he looked back up to the skylight of the roof, didn't see any sign of Jack, frowned, and switched off the tape machine strapped to his groin.

Discovery

The woman agent in the Golden Lotus Travel Service tapped into the keyboard, scrolled through electronic data on the color computer monitor.

"We had someone come in last week," she said to Jack in Cantonese, "a woman who fits the description."