The Stone Monkey

to detention and were themselves waiting for the Ghost at the apartment.
    But he reminded himself that fear was part of humility and it was the humble who succeeded in this world. He thought of one of his favorite passages from the Tao.
    Yield and you need not break.
    Bent, you can straighten.
    Emptied, you can hold.
    Torn, you can mend.
    The Ghost now added his own line: Afraid, you can be brave.
    He glanced at Yusuf, sitting next to him in the passenger seat. The Uighur nodded firmly in reply. And with the skill of seasoned craftsmen they began checking their weapons.

Chapter Twenty-two
    Sonny Li had found some very good cigarettes indeed.
    Camels, without filters on the end, which tasted pretty close to the brand he regularly bought in China. He inhaled deeply and said, “Bet five.” Li pushed the chips forward and watched the other poker players consider how to respond as the bet went around the cheap fiberboard table, stained from years of sweaty hands and spilled liquor.
    The gambling parlor was on Mott Street, in the heart of Chinatown, the neighborhood to which he’d come to buy his cigarettes. Such a long trip probably wasn’t what Loaban had in mind when he gave Li permission to buy some smokes. But no matter. He’d return soon enough. There was no hurry.
    The parlor was a large one, populated mostly with Fujianese (he wanted to avoid running into the Cantonese guard he’d mugged that morning), and featured a full bar and three cigarette machines. The room was dark, except for dim lights over the tables, but with his sharp security bureau officer’s eye he had spotted five armed guards.
    This was not a problem, though. No stealing guns now or beating up pretty boys. He was here only to gamble, drink and chat.
    He won the hand and laughed then poured mao-tai intothe glasses of everyone at the table, except the dealer, who was not allowed to drink. The men lifted the glasses and quickly tossed back the clear, potent liquor. Mao-tai was China’s version of moonshine and you didn’t sip it; you poured it into your gullet as fast as you could.
    Li struck up conversations with the men hunched over the table around him. A bottle of liquor and a dozen Camels later Sonny Li estimated his net loss to be merely seven dollars.
    He decided against another glass and rose to go.
    Several of the men asked him to stay. They were enjoying his company.
    But Li told them that his mistress awaited and the men nodded enthusiastically.
    “She fuck you every way,” an old, drunk man said. It wasn’t clear to Li if this was a question or a statement.
    Sonny Li walked to the door, giving them a smile that confirmed the high quality of his love life. The truth, however, was that this particular gambling parlor had turned out to have little for him and he wanted to try another.
    •   •   •
    The Blazer, speeding down the alleyway that led to the rear of the Changs’ apartment.
    The Ghost, gripping his Model 51 pistol in one hand, the leather-clad steering wheel in the other.
    The Turks, poised to leap from the SUV.
    They burst from the alley into a large parking lot—and found a huge semi truck bearing down on them, head-on.
    With a deep groan of brakes the truck began to skid.
    The Ghost shoved his foot down on the brake pedal—instinctively striking the floor with his left foot as well, hitting the spot where the clutch in his BMW sports car was. The Blazer swerved and skidded to a stop door-to-doorwith the truck. He gasped and felt his heart stutter from the near-miss.
    “What the fuck’re you doing?” the truck driver shouted. He leaned down toward the Blazer’s driver’s-side window. “It’s one-way, you fucking Jap! You come to this country, learn the fucking rules.”
    The Ghost was too shaken to answer.
    The driver put the truck in gear and pulled past the Chevy.
    The Ghost thanked his god, Yi the archer, for saving him from death. Ten seconds later and they would have collided head-on with the truck.
    Starting forward slowly, the Ghost glanced at the Turks, who were looking around with frowns. They were confused, troubled.
    “Where it is?” asked Yusuf, who was gazing at the large parking lot in which they found themselves. “The Changs’ apartment? I cannot see it.”
    There were no residences anywhere around here.
    The Ghost checked the address. The number was correct; this was the place. Except . . . except that it was a large retail shopping center. The alleyway that the Ghost had