Triad Death Match by Seth Harwood Read Free Book Online Page A

explaining herself to her superior. It wasn't going well; frustration showed on her face.
      "No, what I'm saying– " She got cut off, tried butting in again, got cut off, and finally decided just to listen. Jack watched her mouth the word fuck three times in succession.
    Vlade's voicemail picked up, and Jack echoed Jane's sentiment out loud.
    Niki would be with Vlade. And Niki was guaranteed to answer his phone.
    Jack scrolled back to Niki's name, thinking he should have just called him first. He hit send and brought the phone to his ear, glad already to hear it ring.
    "Yes, hello?" It was Niki's voice. Music to Jack's ears.
     

 
    Five
    "Yes, hello?"
    "Niki. It's Jack."
    "Jack Palms, my man. How can we help the brother out?"
    "Where are you?"  
    "Club of the Larry Flint. I watch, I wait, and Vlade is in back room, getting on the red carpet."
    "That's red carpet treatment, homes."
    "No, the red carpet. He like the girl with the–"
    In front of Jack, Jane Gannon paced the fighter's locker room underneath the lone bulb. Her face told a story of rejection: Dockery was chewing her out for getting too far in with her rogue investigation of the Triads and their Death Match. But Jack didn't care. None of the Feds would like how this turned out, so the less they knew the better. It was good if they didn't show up at all.
    As Jane flipped her phone closed, Jack mouthed Vlade's name to her.  
    "Oh, no!" she said, shaking her head. "No way! I'd rather deal with this myself."
    Jack held up his hand, mimed slitting his own throat. "Niki, we got a need for you two to help us deal with some Triads up Chinatown."
    "Is that close?"
    "Very," said Jack, following up with his best explanation of where they were and how to get there.
    "Well then we can–"
    "Not after Vlade gets finished with his lap dance! We need you here now. Let Vlade get his nut on later. Or just come alone."  
    Jane started out of the room, heading back toward the stage. Jack heard a chorus of cheers.  
    "A man's life depends on this," said Jack .  
    When Jack got back to the stage, he saw Chen had started to fight back. He was blocking some of Bolo's punches instead of taking them all full-on with his head. But he was still far from one hundred percent.
    And yet Bolo still moved casually, toying with Chen instead of inflicting real damage. It was like he knew Chen's drugs would wear off and he wanted to wait for an honest fight. He took his time, crept in and out of range, peppering Chen's front leg with kicks and occasionally taking a shot at Chen's head.  
    If Bolo fought like this against him, Jack could stand in for a while. He knew enough of what to do. But he also knew this fighter wouldn't waste his time waiting for Jack to improve. The dramatic turn-around wouldn't come; this was no Rocky movie. Big Bolo would send Jack out on a stretcher, peeled off the canvas of the ring, sand still stuck in his skin.
    Standing at the edge of the stage, Mr. Ruby started the crowd into a rhythmic hand clap that picked up speed as it went. The big drum overhead joined in on the ones and twos, and the crowd started to whistle and cheer. Soon they might turn against Bolo, lose patience with waiting for the carnage they'd come to see.
    A gong rang to end the round.  
    Chen retreated to his corner and sat on a small stool that an attendant produced. There were no corner men in this sport, just a short break for the fighters to catch their breath. Chen's chest heaved, while Bolo took long, measured breaths through his nose, his shoulders rising and falling as he did.
    Jack wanted to go down and talk to Chen, coach him to stay out of Bolo's reach, wave smelling salts under his nose–anything. But two bouncers came up alongside Jack as he stepped toward the edge of the stage. He looked up and around the arena at the eager faces: row after row of men holding tickets, smoking, talking, waving their fists. Even with Niki, this was not going to be an easy crowd to tame. Maybe