Chapter One

“So, what are you two fighting about?” Kile asked, as he leaned back in his chair, at the small table in their parent’s kitchen, and regarded his brother sympathetically.

Hugging his coffee cup, in both, big hands, Ajay sat, slumped in misery, across from his brother. He didn't want to talk about his problems, especially with Kile, but his brother knew the look of a man escaping unpleasantness at home. He wasn't going to believe that Ajay was there for a simple family visit.

“It's probably about money,” his brother fished. He sipped at his own coffee and then planted an unlit cigarette at the corner of his mouth. He said around it, ”You take in a fancy poodle from uptown, he's going to want stuff that you can’t afford.”

Ajay grumbled into his coffee cup, defensively, “That’s not what the argument was about.”

His brother’s eyebrows went up in surprise. “Well, then, you have me stumped. Are gay guys like women when they argue? My wife is mad about roses that she didn’t get. Yellow ones. What the hell is that all about, I ask you?”

“It’s your anniversary, today.”

Kile grunted, suddenly understanding, but then frowned again and asked, “Okay, I forgot, but what does that have to do with yellow roses?”

“The church was decorated in yellow roses when you were married.”

Kile looked dumbfounded and then he demanded irritably, “I was supposed to know that she wanted them this anniversary?”

“Yes, it seems so.”

“That's crazy!” Kile protested, fist hitting the table in anger.

Ajay took a firm grip on his coffee mug as the contents sloshed. “From the evidence of her actions, I think that we can assume that she wants you to be more romantic.”

“Says Ajay Kavanagh, who doesn't even know what's wrong with his own sweetheart, I'm betting?” his brother retorted in angry embarrassment.

“I do know what's wrong,” Ajay corrected his brother before he could think better of it.

“Ah,” Kile said as he took his cigarette and stabbed it in the air at Ajay, “Now we're getting to it. Let it out, brother. What's lit the fire under your significant other? Confession time.”

“He wants to pay for a new office,” Ajay replied unwillingly, hating that it sounded so simple, when it was far from it.

Kile stared at him for a long moment, with an expression that questioned Ajay's sanity, and then asked, “And?”

“I wouldn’t let him, of course,” Ajay replied matter-of-factly.

“Because?”

Ajay’s jaw worked and then he replied tightly, knowing that his brother wouldn't understand, “Because it’s my office. The business should pay for itself.”

Kile snickered, “Bet you got the lecture about What’s yours is mine and what’s mine is yours, and if you don’t think so, you don’t really love me., right?”

“Yes,” Ajay admitted reluctantly.

“Knew you’d screw this up,” his brother replied with a sigh as he jammed his cigarette back between his lips, “I’m just surprised that you managed two months before breaking up.”

“We are not breaking up!” Ajay retorted, surprising himself, as well as his brother, by his strong reaction. It was hard to calm himself, enough to explain, in a calmer tone of voice, “It’s not over. We just argued, that’s all. We’ll work it out.”

Kile eyed him critically and then leaned forward, switching his unlit cigarette to the opposite side of his mouth. “One thing you gotta learn, brother," he said seriously, "is that you have to swallow a lot of crap to make them happy. Look at me. I have to go out and buy the biggest bunch of yellow roses, that I can find, to let my wife know that, yeah, I’m a stupid, insensitive lug, but I get, now, why she’s mad. What are you gonna do?”

“I'm going home,” Ajay replied as he stood up and grabbed his coat. “I can’t let him pay for my office, but maybe I can explain better why not?”

His brother chuckled and leaned back in his chair again. “Good luck with that. Better toss a gift through the door first.”

As Ajay walked home, he considered that a gift might not be a bad idea. On a cold winter night, hot tea and coffee, with something sweet to go with it, might be a way to smooth the road before he explained to Devon why he was standing his ground.

Ajay pulled out his cell to call Devon, intending to ask him to dress warmly and meet him at the coffee shop. He wasn't prepared for a woman to run full tilt into his arm, just as the call connected. She stumbled and the phone went flying, bouncing into the street, as Ajay caught at the woman and tried to keep them both from falling onto the snow covered sidewalk.

As Devon’s voice said, “Hello, Jay, is that you?” the tires of a passing delivery truck crushed the cell phone into the pavement.

Ajay was expecting an apology, or even a thank you, as he righted them. He wasn't prepared for the woman to push forcefully away from him, look fearfully behind her, and then try to hurry past him as if he were nothing more than a momentary roadblock.

A petite blonde in high heels, the woman was wearing expensive clothes and looked barely in her twenties. She seemed overwhelmed by the city itself, the old buildings, the people rushing by, and the traffic almost bumper to bumper, as they negotiated the salted roads and the slush of melting snow. She begged questions with every step, trailing an air of mystery like a lure. It was that mystery, more than Ajay's protective tendencies, that sent him hurrying after her.

“Is something wrong?” Ajay asked as he caught up to the woman. “Is someone bothering you?”

The woman stopped and gave Ajay's size and strength a wide eyed look. Her expression quickly turned calculating, as she grabbed onto Ajay’s black coat and pulled him close. “Maybe you can help me, boy scout,” she told him. She searched through her purse, produced a fifty dollar bill, and then slapped it into his hand. “I’ll give you a hundred more if you play my bodyguard until I make it to where I’m going.”

“That’s not necessary,” Ajay replied as he tried to hand the money back.

She gave him a disgusted roll of her eyes. “I broke your cell and I need you to protect me from the guys following me. That’s worth a hundred and fifty dollars.”

“More than that,” Ajay complained, thinking about the cost of the lost cell phone alone, but then shook his head as he tried to hand the bill back to her again. “We should go where there’s a phone and call the police.”

She angrily snatched the bill out of Ajay’s hand and jammed it back into her purse. “Look, I don’t need you, if you’re going to make even more trouble for me, boy scout. Get lost.”

She began walking quickly again, her heels clicking on the pavement. Ajay looked back the way that she had come. He couldn’t see anyone out of the ordinary. Still, she seemed convinced that she was being followed. He hurried to catch up to her, again.

“All right, I’ll take you where you need to go.”

She smiled at him, not slowing her stride. “You really are a boy scout.”

It wasn’t a grateful smile, but a smile someone gave when they couldn’t believe the scope of the stupidity of someone else. It put Ajay on edge as he wondered exactly what she was running from and what sort of trouble he might be getting himself into “How far?” he asked.

“Five blocks,” she replied, in a way that dared him to take her that far.

“It might be safer to take a cab,” he suggested, trying again for reason.

“You would think that,” she sneered.

“Why wouldn't it be safe?” Ajay wondered.

“They’ll still follow me,” she replied as if he were now worse than stupid. “They're in a dark blue car. We have to try and lose them.”

Ajay made a motion, as if he were adjusting his coat, and shot a look behind them. Ajay saw it then, a dark blue car, staying behind traffic, and clearly not in any hurry. He counted three people inside before turning back to the woman and asking, “Do I get to know where we are going?”

She considered for a long moment and then replied, “Trimble.”

It was a street filled with government and office buildings just outside of his community. Ajay checked the time. “Nothing will be open this time of day.”

“Nothing needs to be open, boy scout,” she replied. “I just need to get there. After that, you get lost, and forget you ever saw me. Got that?”

“Are you meeting someone?”

“Not your business,” she snapped back angrily. “I’m not paying you to be nosy.”

“You didn’t pay me,” Ajay reminded her.

She snorted and rolled her eyes, “Details.”

“This way,” Ajay directed as he motioned her into an ally. She balked, wary. “This is where I live,” he reassured her. “I know all the ins and outs.”

“I suppose that I don't have much choice,” she decided, her tone exasperated..

Ajay followed her as she slipped between two stinking dumpsters, her expression one of disgust.

“You didn't have anyone that you could call for help?” Ajay wondered, every sense alert for trouble ahead and behind them.

“Not anyone who would put their necks out for me, by coming down here,” she replied, sourly, as she gingerly stepped over garbage. “I did good only to have to go as far as Trimble.”

“I wish that you would explain what that means,” Ajay complained as he moved ahead of her to kick aside broken, wooden crates. “I’d like to know what sort of danger you think we might be facing.”

“Me, they might want alive, for a little while at least,” she told him bluntly. “You, they'll probably kill out right.”

She waited, probably expecting Ajay to protest and leave her. Instead, Ajay admitted, “I’m a detective. I used to be with the police force.”

He saw her stiffen and then she repeated, carefully, “Used to be?”

“I have a private business, now.”

She didn’t say anything until he opened a metal door and motioned her into the kitchen of a Chinese restaurant. The smell of cooking food rolled over them both, along with the heat from the kitchen. Five cooks, working furiously with large woks, hardly spared them more than a curious look.

“Where are we going?” she asked nervously, as Ajay opened another door and took a narrow set of stairs downward.

“These old buildings used to be secret gambling houses,” he explained as he motioned to a broken step to warn her to watch her footing, “They're connected through their basements.”

Her heels clicked on rough concrete as she followed him into a store room with a low ceiling. Her well manicured hands were raised as if she expected to fend off spiders, or cobwebs at the very least.

“How did you find out about them?” the woman wondered and her voice had an odd tone that Ajay couldn't decipher. Perhaps, it was only an increase in her understandable wariness?

“I've been eating at Mr. Yao's restaurant since I was very young. His son, Ming, is a good friend of mine,” Ajay explained, trying to reassure her of his good intentions, as he stopped before a metal door. “Ming told me all about the secret passageway. He said that it was haunted and that the bones of dead gangsters were cemented into the walls.”

Ajay pulled at the rusty door to get it open. It gave with a creak, nothing but darkness beyond it. Fumbling inside for the old light switch, Ajay flicked it on. A series of bare hanging bulbs came on, revealing a long corridor of ancient brickwork. Dark gaps showed where some of the lights weren't working. “Of course,” Ajay continued, as he grimaced at the stale, cold air,. “I had to explore every inch of the place to find out if it was true.”

“Of course,” the woman replied dryly, but her eyes were wide with apprehension as she followed Ajay into the narrow passage way.

Either she was afraid of possible ghosts, Ajay thought sympathetically, or she was regretting her choice to follow a stranger into a place where he could easily do as he pleased to her.

“May I ask a favor?”

“I knew it! Forget it, boy scout!” the woman snarled, backing up and holding her hands out warningly towards him. “I don't put out that easy and this sure as hell isn't the place-!”

Ajay quickly tried to reassure her, both their voices echoing down the hallway as he said loudly over her shriller voice, ”I didn't mean anything like that!”

She was panting with fear and anger. It took her a moment to calm herself enough to ask roughly, “Then what do you want?”

“I was calling someone when you bumped into me,” Ajay explained. “This may take some time. He's going to be worried.”

“Oh.” Embarrassed, the woman dug into her purse and pulled out her cell phone. She handed it to Ajay with a tentative movement, as if she was afraid that he might try and grab her.

The woman's phone smelled like powder and perfume. Small ornaments dangled and made tinkling noises as Ajay made the call to Devon. The cell phone was very small and feminine in his big hand and it made Ajay feel self conscious as he waited for Devon to answer.

“Jay?!” Devon's voice shouted, furiously, over the sounds of street traffic, “This had better be you!”

“It's me,” Ajay replied soothingly. “I'm sorry. My cell had an accident.”

“Why didn't you come home? I was worried sick when your cell cut off!” Devon complained. “I've been out here, on the street, asking everyone if they've seen you.”

A gruff voice, that sounded like his friend, Mike, interjected, “You should be ashamed, Jay, making your friend, here, get that upset. If I were him I'd-”

“Brawn no brains, I always said,” another male voice, with the distinctive accent of Mr. Harris, the hot dog vendor, interrupted.

“That's no way to treat your wife, Jay,” Mike admonished.

“Not wife, idiot,” Mr. Harris corrected irritably, “That's his, uh, you know, his man-friend.”

“Very close man-friend?” Mike wondered. “That's not easy off the tongue. Is there another word, Dev?”

“Devon!” Ajay broke in loudly, mortified and trying to regain the conversation.

“Significant other?” Mike tried, “Man-lover? Boyfriend?”

“Partner?” Mr. Harris wondered. “I like partner. More masculine.”

“Devon!” Ajay shouted again, desperately, “I need to talk to you.”

“What's going on, Jay?” Devon asked, sounding flustered as he tried to talk over the two men still trying out phrases, “Where are you?”

“I'm helping a woman,” Ajay replied, relieved to finally get his message out. “I'll probably be another hour, all right?”

“Helping a woman?” Devon repeated in concern. “What woman?”

“This don't sound good, ” Mike said worriedly.

“Out with another woman? I feel for you, Dev,” Mr. Harris sympathized. “Sometimes, that happens. You have a shouting match and the man takes comfort elsewhere.”

“Wait!” Ajay exclaimed in alarm. “That's not what's going on. Devon?”

“If Ajay's with a woman, we should be calling his brother, the paramedic,” Mike warned jokingly. “You know how Ajay's a disaster with the ladies.”

Ajay barely heard the last when the cell phone went silent. He stared at the dead battery light blinking at him and tried to convince himself that Devon would take him at his word and wait, calmly, for him to return. Devon would not jump to any wrong conclusions.

“Trouble in paradise?” the woman asked sarcastically. “I guess that I don't have anything to worry about. My boy scout is gay.”

Ajay handed the phone back to her and said impatiently, “We need to hurry and get you to safety.”

“I'm all for hurrying,” the woman replied angrily, as she tossed her cell back into her handbag, “So let's stop talking and start walking.”

After a few minutes of walking, though, and passing several concrete stairways that led upward, the woman began losing some of her assertiveness and asked nervously, “How much further?”

“This goes the length of the city block.”

“And comes out where?” she wondered.

“After going under the street, it takes a left and comes up under an apartment building,” Ajay replied as he pushed some broken rubble aside with his foot to clear the way for her. He didn't tell her that it was from the ceiling, but he could see her make the connection. “I haven't been down here in years,” he explained. “It's become unstable. It wasn't my intention to put you in any danger.”

“Then get me out of here, fast,” She replied anxiously. “Where in the apartment building does it come out?”

“In Mr. Casey's apartment,” Ajay replied, “Inside his hall closet. Pretty clever, really. If the gambling houses were ever raided, they had their escape route.”

“This Mr. Casey, he won't mind us popping out of his closet?”

“He will, but this is an emergency,” Ajay told her confidently. “He'll understand.”

“This has taken a definite turn for the weird,” she complained, “but if it gets me to where I'm going, in one piece, I'll be happy.”

“I would really like to know what this is all about,” Ajay complained. “I don't even know your name.”

“We'll keep it that way,” she replied, warningly. “Less you know, the better off I'll be.”

“I don't understand,” Ajay said in confusion as he batted aside cobwebs and found the stairs that led upward into Mr. Casey's closet. He doubted that anyone had been that way since he and Ming had played there as children.

She conceded, as she followed him up the stairs, “I suppose that I can tell you that I'm the good guy in all of this, just to settle your conscience.”

“Thank you. I hope that's true,” Ajay replied, though he wasn't ready to believe it without any proof.

Ajay knocked hard on the steel door as he began opening it, to warn Mr. Casey of their intrusion.

“Thanks for the save, boy scout,” the woman said behind him, right before Ajay felt something connect hard with his head.

He went down onto his knees and concrete steps scraped them harshly. His head felt disconnected, his vision full of an odd light and his ears filled with a rushing sound. His hands went out to stop himself from going down face first, but he never felt them touch the steps, as his head was dealt another blow that knocked him unconscious.