Chapter Three: The Piano PlayerChapter Three: The Piano PlayerPerhaps it was a creak in the worn boards of the sidewalk that gave the little piano player away. He was sure he could follow anyone, anywhere, without being detected. But not this time.
He lost sight of Langton for several seconds, as the lanky man turned around the corner. The piano player used the opportunity to break from cover, hurrying to the edge of the building to peer around at Langton and plan his next move.
In the same second, a left hand grabbed him roughly by the shirt front, yanked him into the alley and hoisted him against the wall, eye-to-eye with the stranger who had just thrown his abuser into the street.
Langton said nothing yet. With his free hand, he frisked the small form. He had been surprised once before by a quick slash from a hidden blade by an unlikely assailant, and vowed he would not make the same mistake twice.
« Speak up, kid! Who sent you? Do you speak any English at all? »
« Put me down, mister! »
So the little China boy can speak after all, thought Langton. Cheeky little punk, too.
« I'll give the orders around here, kid. »
Langton had few scruples when it came to getting his way with others. His rough voice, razor-sharp gunsight and calloused knuckles were all powerful tools of persuasion.
Yet there were lines that even he would not cross. Bullying children was one of them. The kid knew this, and played it to his advantage. After all, this stranger had intervened on his behalf in the Lotus Flower just a few moments ago.
Slowly, Langton eased the slight form of the child down the wall and set him on his feet. But he did not relax his grip on the urchin's shirt front. Chasing children down unfamiliar back streets held no appeal for him on this day.
« You Langton, Mister? »
« Who wants to know, little man? »
« I am not little man, old man. My name is Willie. »
« All right then, Willie, tell me who sent you. »
The boy peered back at Langton through slit eyes of almond black. No answer came from his lips.
« Okay kid, you win. I'm Langton. Now tell me who sent you or else ...., » Langton bluffed.
A hint of a smirk played on the kid's lips. He seemed to savor the small triumph he had wrested from the big man.
« Wang Lien sent me to find you. He's the Fat Man. Let me go and I'll take you there. »
Langton followed Willie down one dark alley after another. Almost imperceptibly, they entered the local Chinatown, a warren of shabby shanties and low lean-tos. Clutches of gibbering men were gathered on the stoops and in the mouths of narrow alleyways.
Some called out to Langton, doubtlessly tempting him to enter into their dark holes to sample illicit pleasures of the flesh. Some sat slumped over, their eyes fixed on an inner realm only they could see through their opium-induced haze.
They came at last to one hovel slightly less rickety than the rest. Willie spoke briefly to two sullen shapes guarding the entrance, who then grudgingly stepped aside and left Willie and Langton just enough room to enter.
Langton was led through a maze of shifting and parting curtains of various colors. He soon gave up keeping track. Women, children and old men seemed to scurry in random directions around him.
At one turn, the acrid stench of spent opium and unwashed bodies assaulted his nostrils. He hesitated, turned to part the curtains and glimpsed rows of men, not all Chinese, lying on rough bunks, in a haze of smoke, heads lolling, eyes glazed, and limbs splayed awkwardly.
Willie reached back and grabbed his arm, took him through two or three more curtains, until they came to a larger, well-lit room, with silken curtains and comfortable furniture. Jade icons rested on small tables, beside tea sets and trays of food.
A fat man reposed amid the cushions. He waved Willie away, and turned his gaze to Langton.