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My Kind of Town Don Chapman |
Reeling in bad guys
>> East-West Center
It was time to start reeling in the bad guys.
So when Jefferson Hall's 28-foot-tall koa doors slid closed for the meeting of the second Lama Jey Tsong Khapa with the Interfaith Council, a gathering Hawaii's religious leaders, outside the good guys went into action, based on solid intelligence.
Bodhicita Guzman had given names and even photos of Te-Wu members posing as employees of the Bank of Lhasa's Bishop Street office to Kamasami Khan of the Free Tibet Warrior Society. In one of their verbal tussles over how best to protect the lama, HPD solo officer Quinn Ah Sun talked Khan into sharing that information with him, on the condition of Khan and the FTWS remaining un-named. Quinn passed along that information to his buddy Charlie at the FBI.
So the crowd greeting the lama's arrival included a young Marine. Kai Chang, a Kamehameha grad, spoke Mandarin and worked in military intelligence, currently attached to the FBI's counter-terrorism department. For this occasion he was dressed casually, slacks, loafers, aloha shirt, undercover. A guy whose appearance wouldn't make a banker uncomfortable.
A banker like the one in a gray suit on the edge of the crowd, near where the lama's limo was parked.
"Hey, howya doin'?" Kai said with a grin, sidling over, switching then to perfect Mandarin. "Can't remember your name, but I remember you're in banking too." He pulled a fake business card from his shirt pocket. "Steven Chee, Bank of the New Territories," he said with a knowing wink.
Gray Suit frowned. Bank of the New Territories, Kai could see him thinking, are we allies? Why have I never heard of the Bank of the New Territories? Is it new?
He proffered a business card. Nice card. Slick stock, English and Chinese characters embossed in red and gold.
"Glad to meet you, Doo Wop. Bank of Lhasa, eh?" Kai winked again, continued in Mandarin.
"Tough news yesterday about your guy Yu Dip."
"Yes," he said, the word escaping in a moment of shock. Steven Chee's knowledge of the Chinese secret agent's identity, and apparently of his involvement in the attempt on the lama's life, took Doo Wop's breath away. "How do you know this?"
"We work for the same team. Oh, there's your loan officer. Zip Lok has great leadership potential, I've heard. He understands market forces."
"It's true."
"We should talk. I have a friend inside HPD. They say Yu Dip is talking."
His face ashen, Doo Wop motioned with his eyes for Zip Lok to join them.
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Don Chapman is editor of MidWeek. His serialized novel runs daily in the Star-Bulletin. He can be e-mailed at dchapman@midweek.com