The Case of the Jade Dragon: Jonas Watcher, #3

By Gene Poschman

Who said Weddings Couldn't be Dangerous?

When PI Jonas Watcher sees a Chinese couple being kidnapped; he sighs, grabs his gun, and goes to help them. This selfless act involves Jonas with the Chinese underworld. He is hired to unite two families by bringing a prospective bride from St. Louis to San Francisco for an arranged marriage. There are several factions who will kill to keep him from succeeding. His mission is complicated even more by his employer's beautiful granddaughter. She's the only one who knows where the bride is and she insists on going with him. A girl, his Colt 44, and diplomacy; Jonas will have to use all three if he wishes to complete the mission, end the feud, and live to tell the tale.

"The Case of the Jade Dragon" is the third novel of the Jonas Watcher Detective Adventure series. It's the 1930s in San Francisco's Chinatown, where old traditions conflict with the new, and Jonas gets caught up in a world of mysticism, a deadly family feud, and a potential underworld war. Author Gene Poschman brings a new slant to the noir hard-boiled detective by introducing him to a world out of his comfort zone and adding an exotic love interest.

Purchase "The Case of the Jade Dragon" and travel by train, plane, and automobile to learn the fate of the Azure Dragon.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gene Poschman
• Release date: Sep 1, 2016
• ISBN: 9781533775993

Gene Poschman

I am a native Californian who married my high school sweetheart. We are still married; why she puts up with me is still a mystery. I have always been an avid watcher of film noir, mysteries, and other detective crime fiction as well as science fiction and fantasy. I read quite a bit, which would probably surprise a number of my elementary school teachers. I would have been a better reader earlier if Dick and Jane were detectives, or at least, a wizard and witch. Like a lot of writers I write because I need to. Also as a kid, I was such a liar. I didn't lie about important stuff. I just made up stories. I was told the story of the boy who cried wolf constantly. At least five different versions. It doesn't happen well for the kid in any of them. I still make up stories, but because I put them in books, I'm not a liar, I am a novelist or author.  The Jonas Watcher series is rooted in the novels of Raymond Chandler and Dashiell Hammett. My style is a little lighter and laced with my own quirky sense of Humour.    I identify this genre as Adventures, some Detective, and some Spy. M'Lady's Gentlemen is a departure for me. I have left the noir of the Nineteen Thirties and stepped into the Victorian age; my main character is a woman and she is a spy. The rest is subject to change on my personal whim.

Book preview

Chapter 1

An Incident at Central Station

I COCKED THE HAMMER, aimed, inhaled, and applied just enough pressure to pull the trigger. I didn't flinch. I couldn't afford to.

I wasn't supposed to be in a warehouse saving a couple I never met. I was supposed to be sleeping in my first-class compartment on the train. It was the train whistle that broke into my sleep and woke me up.

I saw an Asian couple being pushed forcefully across the tracks in the train yard. I never could just leave well enough alone, especially when someone was being mistreated.

My military training got me out of the bunk and into my clothes in a brief amount of time. In the M.P.s, I didn't have to put on a shoulder holster and a coat for concealment of the Colt forty-four on my left side. The belt clip that tied the holster tight to my waist took time, too. Still, I was out of my compartment and headed down the hallway to the train exit door before I was fully awake.

The Conductor was in the hallway, and I was running towards him.

Is there a problem, Mr. Watcher, he asked.

Is there an Asian couple in this car? I asked.

There is, he said.

Then I'm afraid they've just been kidnapped, I said as I passed by him.

I turned the corner, opened the door, and dropped out of the passenger car. As I straightened up, I looked about the train yard in the direction I had seen the group traveling. The two men who had been pushing them along were a brutish sort, but they didn't seem the type for planning a kidnapping. They were the muscle, taking their prisoners to whoever arranged their removal from the train.

The gray morning fog had not entirely lifted. Still, I could see well enough to know there was nothing to see but an empty train yard, a couple of warehouses, and a Model A sedan. There were no kidnappers, no Asian couple, nothing. There was a small red handbag our of place on the ground by the warehouse door. The A parked next to the warehouse was another clue.

I didn't care whether the bag was dropped deliberately or by accident; it was an indication of the direction they went. It wasn't a red herring left to mislead me, because the two Neanderthals didn't appear to have the brain capacity between them to leave a false trail. Besides, they were unaware they had been seen at all. Hopefully, the warehouse was their final destination.

I was suddenly very aware of the noise in and about the train yard. It was a perfect place to grab someone. The morning din of rail cars being repositioned and the occasional horn or whistle would make cries for help inaudible. The only drawback would be someone from a passenger car looking out as the kidnapping was taking place. What were the odds of that? The Sisters Fate were laughing in the background, and I wasn't quite sure why.

I approached the warehouse door from the side. It was one of those large double doors for trucks and vans to enter for loading. One of the doors was ajar. The old riddle struck me as funny. I still wasn't fully awake. I doubted that anyone was on watch, but it was better to err on the side of caution than to get my ass shot off. I tried to focus, listening to the inside of the warehouse. However, the train yard noises still drowned out any other sounds that were present.

I flattened myself against the side of the door opening and looked back into the yard. I guess I was hoping to see some kind of authority who would be willing to take over, but all I saw was a yard, empty except for trains. I wondered what the Conductor had done with the news I had related to him. He knew I was a private investigator. I hoped he had not concluded I would handle it myself.

Sigh.

I looked through the door of the warehouse and saw some good and bad news. The bad news was there was no one in sight. The good news was there were a lot of places to hide near the doorway. I could enter the warehouse to do more reconnaissance. I moved quickly behind a crate to figure out what I was going to do next.

I was finally waking up because I realized I was putting myself in danger, and I didn't even know why. No wonder those fickle bitches liked picking on me.

In the back of the warehouse, on the second level, there were some glassed-in offices, and I could see people in them. There was an outer office with three men standing and talking, clearly waiting for whoever else was involved in this little caper to arrive. The office behind it had two people sitting. I could just make out it was the Asian couple I had seen being abducted earlier. They were not bound, which was an element in my favor. The three henchmen between them and me were a challenge I would have to overcome. The most logical solution was to reduce the number of participants on the other side. The other side of what, though?

I scanned the warehouse for anything that would make a noticeable diversion without hurting the couple and preferably not killing my adversaries. Not yet, anyway.

I needed two distractions to bring down the guards. I was pretty sure that only one would come down initially. That meant that I would no longer have the element of surprise when getting a second man down the stairs.

It was easy to slip along the crates in the warehouse and stay out of sight of the upper rooms. I had to move fairly quickly; I wasn't sure when reinforcements for the Neanderthal brothers would arrive. A loud noise would bring down the first man. He wouldn't be looking for any real confrontation, so he should be easy to immobilize. I would have to have a trap for the second man.

I moved to the bottom of the wooden stairs that led up to the second level. Clearly, the staircase hadn't had to pass any inspections recently. I had seen tree houses made by kids built more solidly. It would do me no good to add enough stress to bring down the stairs, as they seemed to be the only access to the second level.

As fate would have it, the Sisters must have been slipping. A crate was suspended above the ground by a pulley system. A truck would back up for a container to be loaded onto it. The winch and tackle were all set up. I just needed a volunteer to pretend to be a truck.

I had my plan in place for dealing with the first two men, but getting the third man to come down might prove more challenging. I preferred having a plan in place to deal with this kind of situation, but some times I just had to make it up as I went along.

Time to deal with the first two men.

In the back of the lower level were a couple of doors. One was to a small makeshift kitchen, and the other opened into a janitor's closet. I quickly slipped into the kitchen and searched the cupboards. I found some packets of yeast, which would be perfect if I could find additional ingredients for my plan. The Fates were working with me. A first-aid medicine cabinet provided me with my second ingredient, some hydrogen peroxide. Next, I headed for the janitor's closet, I was sure the rest of what I needed was in there.

I opened the door and smiled; it was a gold mine. There were all kinds of cleaning supplies, and a sink with hot and cold running water. I quietly lifted a bucket with a lid that was hanging on a peg on the wall. I grabbed a bottle of detergent from under the sink and filled a glass with hot water from the faucet.

I dumped the hydrogen peroxide into the bucket, followed by the soap. I had the pail mixture, the heated water, and a packet of yeast, and headed back out to the warehouse.

I picked up a crowbar I had seen earlier and placed the bucket in a narrow aisle that wasn't visible to the upstairs room. I put the glass and the packet of yeast on a crate and crept back under the stairs. I had traps one and two in place; it was time to get the attention of the three minions on the second level.

I stepped out and banged on a crate with the crowbar a couple of times. From under the stairs, I could hear the three of them talking.

What was that? one asked.

Bert, check it out, another one said.

Why me? asked Bert.

Because I'm the one in charge, said not Bert.

And who made you the leader? said Bert.

The people paying us, said not Bert.

I think it might be them, said Bert.

"And I told you to check it out. If it is the boss, then we show him we're on our toes."

But what if it isn't him? asked Bert.

Then deal with it.

If these morons didn't move soon, then whoever did hire them might show up. Then I would have more to deal with than I planned.

Apparently, Bert figured he had to check it out because I heard him walking over to the door and the stairs. Finally.

I crept quickly to the winch and waited. Bert would come down the stairs and turn towards where I was standing. Upon seeing me, he would come in my direction. At the appropriate time, I would be able to unload the crate on him.

Except Bert stood at the bottom of the stairs and looked around blankly. His idea of searching was he arrived, he saw nothing, and he left.

You have got to be kidding me, I thought. I waited a moment, and when it appeared that Bert was going to go back up the stairs, I dropped the crowbar onto the cement floor.

Even the man upstairs and not-Bert heard it from above.

What's going on, Bert, yelled the third man.

Bert finally saw me standing by the winch. He failed to connect the two.

Some guy in a coat, he said.

Well, deal with him, said the third man.

Bert looked up and then back at me.

Who you? he asked.

Chicken inspector, I said.

Bert looked up the stairs and started to tell them what I said. Then he realized I wasn't a chicken inspector.

Smart guy, huh? he said.

Bert was clearly not the brains of the outfit.

I shrugged.

Come over here, he yelled.

I couldn't help myself, I just started to laugh at him. The good news was it had the desired effect. Bert headed towards me.

When I get to you, I'm gonna hurt you, he said.

He quickened his pace. I judged his speed, waited a moment, and pushed the release. The clamp released with an audible crack, and Bert heard it and looked up. He had just enough time to yell.

Ah, geez!

The crate made a louder crash as it collided with Bert and then the floor. The remaining pair upstairs heard the crash, and the third man responded accordingly.

Bert, what the hell is going on down there? he yelled.

Bert is under a bit of a load right now. Perhaps I can be of service, I yelled back.

I picked up the crowbar and headed to my second trap and waited.

Get down there and deal with this. We don't have time for this shit, said the third man.

I could hear not Bert grumbling as he headed for the stairs.

I made my way to the bucket of peroxide and soap. I emptied the packet of yeast into the hot water and dropped it into the bucket. I slammed down the lid on the bucket and stepped away, figuring I had about twenty seconds. The cover would pop off with a mild explosion. There would be foam, a lot of foam. I was pretty sure a curious not-Bert would come to check it out.

Not Bert got to the bottom of the stairs and looked around. No popping lid.

Damn, I miscalculated. I tossed the crowbar over by the bucket. The noise was sufficient to bring not-Bert around the corner of crates and face to face with the bucket.

Nothing! What the hell, I thought.

Hey, George, yelled, not Bert, there's just a bucket down here.

The bucket started to move.

Now any reasonable person might stay where they were and watch. Not this, Einstein, he was curious. So he approached the bucket.

Well? yelled George from upstairs.

I was about to spring out on not Bert, but the bucket was moving even more. Not Bert was mesmerized. It couldn't have been better if I had planned it. Not Bert bent over and reached for the lid to the bucket. The bucket accommodated him by launching the cover and catching him right under the chin. Foam spewed forth. I moved in to deliver a coup de grace. Not Bert had been knocked back against the crates. He was already out cold and falling forward onto the floor. I cringed as Not Bert hit. Good thing he was out cold. That would have hurt.

I could hear George scrambling into the back room. By the sound of things, he struck the man and grabbed the girl.

I ran to the bottom of the stairs and started to ascend slowly. I reached around with my right hand and pulled my Colt from the holster. It was a single swift move. I had practiced it enough. I cupped the butt of the gun with my left hand to steady it. I pulled the hammer back.

I wasn't sure what I would see when I got to the top of the stairs, but I had a pretty good idea.

George had grabbed the girl and was using her as a shield. His gun was pointed in my general direction, but at this point, he would have missed me by a mile. With a little bit of luck, I wouldn't have to kill him.

Who's there? he asked.

I'm your worst nightmare, I said. I have no relationship with your captives.

Then why are you even here? he asked.

It is in my nature, I said. I dislike seeing others being mistreated.

I could tell the light was not providing enough illumination for him to see me, but I had an excellent view of him. My concern was that sooner or later, it would occur to him to use his gun to threaten the girl rather than me. I decided to push him into it.

She's too small, you know, I