Return of the Jack

By Pringle McCloy

In the sequel to THE JACK IN A BOX, Vancouver PI, Charlie Hampton, is off to Beijing but not on vacation. His mission is to rescue his client, Jack, who has a tendency to get himself kidnapped. Again embroiled in the Triad wars, Charlie must decide if Jack is worth all the trouble and, of course, he isn’t. But is Richard ‘the Cleaver’ Chang, the most powerful mafia boss on the Pacific Rim, worth more? Murder, mayhem and madness continues along with a lot of fun.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pringle McCloy
• Release date: Dec 19, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370585502

Pringle McCloy

English major. Teacher. Tutor. My interest in mysteries began early in life after discovering a pile of Mickey Spillane novels in my dad’s library. I was taken with tough-guy detective, Mike Hammer, who then led me to Raymond Chandler’s PI, Philip Marlow, and so on. Chandler’s Marlowe and my Charlie Hampton have a lot in common but you’ll have to read THE JACK IN A BOX to see the similarity. Both are tough guys who take their whiskey straight and women tall. THE JACK IN A BOX was written while I was living and working in coastal Vancouver and is the setting for the novel. In the sequel, RETURN OF THE JACK, Jack is the same old shady, underworld figure, off to Beijing for more trouble with the Triad. Third in the series, POSSIBLY JACK AGAIN, is set in Santa Ana, California, where Jack follows Charlie to hopefully help find his own grandson who may have met with foul play. Fourth in the series, JACK THE KEEPER is posted now. Enjoy! J. Pringle contributes too with WOMAN COMING SOON and A MONTH IN THE COLONIES, the sequel. THE TAMING OF SAMANTHA ROE is now posted. All three chick lit novels are a lot of fun.

Book preview

Prologue

JILLIAN’S WEDDING DAY BEGAN quietly, so quietly I had too much time to think. ‘Here I go again. Why not me? I’m as good looking as Marco, possibly better. And like Marco-the-Shiesty I’m at the top of my game, although mine is somewhat legal and his flagrant ability to bend the law is not. That’s why she likes him, I figure. She likes the fact that he’s on the same rung of the criminal ladder as her dad, Jack, who is like a dad to me too, since he raised me as his surrogate son. Doesn’t matter, since it’s all Marco now. It’s Marco this and Marco that. Marco is now Jack’s Marco and Jillian’s too and I’m just plain old Hampton, the invisible PI. I’m Hamster to Jack, though. I’ll always be his Hamster, a guy he can manipulate and boss. It’s like that when he got you as a pup and brainwashed you.’

So, there I was, standing at the church doors watching the parade of collector cars arrive. Jack’s gang was cruising in led by Sharp-dressed Tony, Skid the Mark, Bookie Billy and various other thugs. Soon they’d take their places alongside Jack’s West Van cronies, a few feathery hookers, and a handful of crooked cops with no better place to be. Not to forget Jack’s sister, Julia, the deadliest woman in town. A woman of intrepid intellect, Julia was built like a willow tree, tall and sweeping, with keen hazel eyes and sleek dark hair that went twisting into a knot. Typically, Julia wore taupe.

It should have been me standing at the altar, I was thinking, although I’d already been through that shit-show and it didn’t end well. Especially after Jack told his daughter a pack of lies about me at the wedding reception. But what lies? I wasn’t about to hear them from Jillian while in the process of ripping off her wedding dress and screaming,

I can’t believe I’ve been so stupid! Shame on me! I felt sorry for you, you loser! I felt sorry that you got yourself shot rescuing Jack. He is my father, after all. Her round hazel eyes blazed as she tossed back her long blond curls. But you’re not worth it. You’re not worth one iota of my time. With that she stormed out the door.

Great. So much for Tahiti. I thanked Jillian’s back for her precious time but she didn’t even turn around. I had a deep gut feeling that my ex-wife was going to present her back to me for the rest of her life. But I wasn’t finished yet. There was a wedding to bust up and any second now little Jackie Chan would come racing into the church hollering ‘Bomb!’ The two of us had business to finish and this time we weren’t going to fail.

EARLIER THAT YEAR

Chapter One

I COULDN’T EVEN HATE THE guy. Even as I sat across from Jack in his Vancouver warehouse office, listening to his lies, I loved him. I loved his big soft, sandy curls and the bushy mustache always needing a trim. I loved his round green eyes, exacting eyes, like he’d been counting money but was a few grand short. He had an innocent look in his repertoire that he summoned up when he wanted you to feel sorry for him, especially when he’d been bad. I waited.

Trish the Terrible, Jack’s assistant, arrived with the morning coffee slop. Lesser men never drank it but Jack and I were tough. Trish was a looker. She wore her auburn hair long, her eyes blue-green, and her freckles splashed like paint droppings across her nose.

Your special coffee, Charlie! she announced with an evil grin. I put a little booze in it. You know, since Jillian dumped you and all. I thought it might cheer you up. She laughed too loudly and too long. Oh, and did I mention that Trish was mean? She was meaner than a wolverine scaring up breakfast and was the one person in the world Jack was actually scared of. He often hid from Trish, like under his desk or in the warehouse, just to avoid her abuse.

So, Jack started out by saying, Hamster. You’re too good for Jillian. She’s just a wacky activist and you’re meant for bigger things than rounding her up from protests and bringing her home.

I didn’t immediately respond. Jack adored Jillian and wasn’t going to change my mind on that. Next? I finally said.

It took me years to corrupt you. She would only undo all of that. She’d have you going to church and possibly singing in the choir.

I nodded. Jillian had never been inside a church. Oops! Other than for a few of her own weddings. I’m a good singer, I mumbled.

Jack sat back in his chair. It’s like this. He tossed a pencil into the air. I’m going to need you for a covert operation. Much bigger than anybody knows. And I can’t have you weakened by non-stop sex. You know what happened to Sampson.

I knew. It wasn’t about Dalila cutting his hair. I’d read the Bible a lot while waiting for Tina to wake up from her coma after she took a bullet meant for me. I could maybe even pass for Moses now. So?

He pawed his fingers through his thick curls. It’s about your new brother in Beijing. Mini Chin hasn’t given up on him for offing her baby and she’s well connected there. Rumor is, she’s going to go after my boy.

I was excited enough to yawn. Yes, Richard had offed Bugs Zee, or rather, his goon had. Triad wars were like that. And Bugs Zee’s mistake? He looked too much like his brother, Reynolds, the intended target. "Your new boy, you mean. Your new fun boy. Richard the Clever with his fun gang. Hmm. Let me see. I scratched my chin as all great thinkers do. King Kong Chin, the Butcher, nice guy. Fat Freddie Fong, the narcoleptic, who apparently slept through the murder of his own grandmother, possibly because he had her killed. And then there’s sweet Shorty Poo, the little bad guy. Isn’t this the dwarf who brags about his recipe for testicles in a pan? He’s a gourmet cook, they say, and apparently after chopping the balls off his captives he likes to enjoy a good meal. He’s a prince. Can’t wait to meet up with Richard’s dudes again."

Jack tossed me the glare. I don’t know what’s happened to you, Hamster. You used to be a lot more fun.

Jack’s house in British Properties perched on the mountainside, four stories deep. Sprawling behind lush hedges the concrete fortress hosted thick black doors and a garage for his collection of antique cars, including a Talbot Lagos worth several million bucks. On weekends, Tony Chan – Jack’s fake chauffeur and actual Triad boss – liked to take the relic for a spin, typically to Chinatown to show off. A highly-polished guy, old age was pushing Tony and Tony was pushing back. No one, or no one thing, messed with the godfather.

So, once again, I was about to stick a hot poker in my eye. Apparently, I hadn’t had enough of Jack’s torture and was about to attend one of his Sunday parties. And I know what you’re going to say. I deserved better. I did. I absolutely did. But I didn’t know better and the Joneses were the only family I knew. Shoeshine Fatso met me at the door.

Got any weapons, Charlie? he boomed. Shoeshine was a large, handsome man, a Jackie Gleason type with curly dark hair held in place by gel. His glossy brown eyes looked me up and down.

Just the usual. One in my holster and one in my sock.

He smiled. Don’t be a smartass. We may need your firepower later on. There’s so many crooked cops in that room there might be a shootout later on. When everyone gets drunk. They don’t trust each other.

My turn to smile. I could smell money. Old money and new money. Travel money, freshly laundered and about to leave on a journey to Switzerland or The Caymans or The British Virgin Islands. But there was lazy money too, content to relax beneath the floorboards under our feet. I was home. Although I’d owned my own condo for over fifteen years this old mausoleum was home.

David in the alcove wasn’t happy to see me, though. The statue had never liked me. Not since I was a kid and used to hang my skates and scarf on his knob. He couldn’t fight me, you see, so he just started to sway whenever he saw me coming, threatening to fall over and crush my bones. Get over it, David, I said in a loud voice.

Shoeshine giggled. Hope you know he isn’t real, Charlie.

I squinted. Not to you, maybe. He wouldn’t dare mess with you. Shoeshine carried a big gun. And he threatened me with it all the time. But he hates me. Behind your back he’s making faces. And flexing his muscle.

Shoeshine shoved me into the living room. Go find Willy. He’s better looking than David here and he actually bleeds.

Bodies were packed into the living room like a barrel of sausages and the noise level could rival a sonic boom. It was a room of white leather sofas, animal print chairs, and Moroccan treasures placed here and there. Leafy palm trees, too, flanking a wall of windows affording a panorama of the city and ocean below. Oh, and it had thugs. A lot of thugs prone to drinking free booze on Jack, bragging about something, fighting over nothing, and often being evicted by Shoeshine by the scruff of the neck.

Peter Selic was standing with a group of his fellow crooked cops. Tall and Nordic looking, he ploughed his fingers through his thick blond hair. He was Versace from head to toe.

Hampton! You’re still alive! We thought maybe you’d done yourself in.

Ok. Maybe I did take a couple of weeks to drink and lick my wounds. I was entitled to a pity party. I excelled at this type of behavior, in fact. Don’t tell me that you’re still married, Selic. Julia can’t be that desperate.

He grinned. We never were married, Charlie. Jack wasn’t going to let that happen. He just picked up a bum on the Tahiti beach to perform the ceremony and paid him off. You and Jillian weren’t married either. You mean Jack didn’t tell you?

I bit my tongue. No. Jack neglected to tell me that little detail. It explains things, though. I’ve been expecting annulment papers to arrive. No need, it now seems.

The cadre of crooked cops cracked up. Jack is still playing you like a fiddle, a short stocky, smart-mouth said. He must lie awake nights planning his next puppeteer move.

Laughter followed my back as I headed for the bar where someone elbowed me in the ribs.

Make mine big. And don’t be so skimpy this time.

I turned to face my albatross. My surrogate dad. Hope you like arsenic.

He snickered. I’m arsenic-proof. You should know that by now since you’ve tried that shit before.

I handed him his poison. Willy is here?

He is. He’s in the library on his laptop steeling things. You know Willy. Booze isn’t his thing and since his IQ is six times greater than anyone’s in this room he gets bored with small talk. But he’s also connecting. He made a lot of contacts when he was in Beijing on the lamb.

Just then the lovely Julia, draped in taupe, arrived on the scene. After kissing me on both cheeks she put her arm around my waist and widened her round hazel eyes. I can’t believe you’re going off to Beijing, Charlie!

I choked on my booze. I am?

You’re just being silly. Of course, you are! You and Willy.

When am I going? I asked stupidly.

She looked at Jack. I think it’s tonight. Right, Jack?

He nodded. That’s why I asked about your passport, Hamster. You and Willy are leaving on the Red Eye tonight.

Chapter Two

IN THE BOARDING LOUNGE AT Vancouver International I was just nodding off when I felt a sharp pain on my shin. Someone had kicked me with a steel-toed boot. Hard.

Willy Chan shook his shiny dark, shoulder-length hair. Hampton! You’re going to miss the plane. They’re calling your name, you idiot. You’ve been sleeping for over an hour. Immaculate in his designer threads and highly polished shoes, ‘slick’ Willy Chan oozed class. His speckled brown eyes sparkled with trouble while his white teeth glistened when he smiled. And Willy had a lot to smile about, such as millions salted away and real estate holdings worth keeping quiet about. It was like that when you worked for the Triad and, as a double agent, you also worked for Jack. You can sleep on the plane, bud. We’re going first class with sleepers so you can stretch right out. Even put your jammies on.

I gathered up my things. You mean you’re not going to bug me with details?

What do you think?

I think you’ll be bugging me all night long.

He giggled. You’re right about that. We have a lot to prepare for.

Half-an-hour into the trip, Willy started to chirp. You’d sleep forever if I let you. We have a little homework to do. After that he started to show off, treating me like a tourist. You might as well learn this first. Wo bu xi haun. Very important. Repeat that now.

No. Not going to. Going to sleep.

You’ll be dead a long time then. Now repeat after me, wo bu xi haun.

I sat up and stretched. And I tried my half-best.

Willy howled. You’re pathetic, bud! That language doesn’t exist.

Tell me what it means. Maybe I’ll do better if I know what it means. And why it’s important.

It means, ‘I don’t like it.’ You’ll be saying that a lot, trust me. Especially when offered Douzhi.

Which is?

Stinky bowl. Fermented green bean soup. It smells like dirty socks.

Can’t wait.

Oh, yes. You can. Now try this. Wo ai Beijing.

I tried.

Well, if nothing else you’ll make people smile. Most Chinese are friendly where we’re going and will want to help even if they can’t understand you. How are you at pointing?

I gave him the finger.

Not good. It means the same there. And they’re good with cleavers.

He reached into his backpack and fished out a package