up to them, smiled broadly and put a flower in each of their lapels.
Then she said in broken English: “Welcome to Shanghai.”
13
NOLAN AND TWITCH pushed their way through the crowded streets for the next twenty minutes, running when they could, and constantly looking over their shoulders for anyone in pursuit.
In truth, though, Old Shanghai was so jam-packed with people, an entire army could have been following them and they wouldn’t have known.
Had the knife that killed the contact been meant for one of them? Had the bartender been defending them or was he in on some plot? More important, would the rest of Whiskey realize the tooth radio had been destroyed? Or would they think, after hearing all the gunfire via the one-way transmitter, that Nolan and Twitch had been killed?
These things had no answers, and Nolan knew it was just a waste of time dwelling on them. It was almost 9:30 P.M. Midnight would bring May first and, presumably, the start of the Ba Xi. The minutes were slipping away.
As an ex-Delta guy, he knew that few missions went off exactly as planned. In those cases, knowing how to improvise, especially when some of your equipment broke, might be the key to success.
Turning back now was not really an option. Hunted or not, radio or not, they would press on.
* * *
USING THE DIRECTIONS from their late contact and their shirtsleeve street guides, they found the Red Lantern fifteen minutes later.
The jiuba was tucked into another narrow alley. There was no diminutive woman watching the door here, though. Two massive bouncers guarded the entrance instead. Twitch approached them and started a conversation in local Wu Mandarin, but the goons were clearly distracted by Nolan’s presence, no doubt due to his swollen lips, the uncovered eye socket, the disturbing stitches across his throat—and now, the bloody, busted opening where his tooth once was. He looked more frightening than dangerous.
Twitch finally uttered the magic words—shengri liwu—while pushing five hundred dollars into each man’s hand. One of the bouncers made a cell phone call, had a brief conversation, and then waved Nolan and Twitch into the bar.
The Red Lantern was barely big enough to hold a half-dozen tables and a few small booths. Two Asian men wearing sunglasses and business suits were sitting side by side in the last booth, a pair of Uzis on display in front of them. They were indeed identical twins. Both even had facial scars in almost the same locations.
Nolan and Twitch walked to their booth and boldly sat down. The two men didn’t seem surprised to see them, but were startled by Nolan’s appearance.
“What’s with this guy?” one twin said to Twitch in Wu. “He’s a mess.”
“He’s my cousin,” Twitch repeated. “Bar fights took his eye and his vocal cords.”
“He looks one step away from the grave,” the other twin said. “It’s upsetting.”
Twitch didn’t miss a beat. “He’s much better off than the man who tried to slit his throat,” he said. “As well as the person who took his eye—and the one who just took his tooth. This is a dangerous city. Everyone needs a little protection, no?”
“Sure,” the first twin said. “If you plan on scaring people to death.”
One of the men signaled the bartender. He arrived shortly with four glasses and a bottle of baijiu, the potent clear liquor also known as Shanghai vodka. The twins poured drinks for themselves and one for Twitch. They started to pour one for Nolan, but he put his hand over the empty glass.
Twitch still had no such qualms, though. “My cousin doesn’t imbibe,” he said. “So, I drink what he doesn’t.”
The three of them downed the baijiu. The twins winced as the strong liquor hit the back of their throats, but Twitch showed no reaction. In fact, he refilled his glass and drained that as well.
The twins were astounded by Twitch’s constitution. They took another measure of him. One asked him, “What size suits do you two wear?”
It was such an odd question—but Twitch was quick in reply. “I got no idea,” he said. “I’ve never owned a suit. And neither has my cousin.”
The twins just shrugged as Nolan shifted in his seat. He was able to follow most of the conversation, and was trying hard not to show his impatience. But suit sizes? Time was running out.
They finally got down to business.
“So, we hear you have a present for our boss’s son?” one twin asked.