Vanishing Point - Marc Cerasini [17]
"You heard?" Jack asked, wrestling the knuckle duster off of his swollen right hand.
"I'm not surprised," Manning replied. "Thanks to the DEA, we already have a direct link between the Bix gang and the Rojas Brothers. Now we've linked Bix to the technology thefts. I think Hugo Bix is our man, Jack. You were right to go up against him."
It was a tough admission for Curtis Manning. Initially he'd resisted the plan to begin undermining the most powerful gangster in Las Vegas. But Jack knew he wouldn't get bites unless he started baiting. He hadn't wanted to do it, either, but...
"We had no choice, Curtis," Jack reminded him. "The local DA and the Nevada Prosecutor's office have nothing on Bix, and when the FBI tried to trap him, their undercover agent ended up in a shallow grave in the desert."
"You better proceed with caution. Bix has got a real hate on for you."
To Manning's surprise, Jack laughed, short and sharp.
"Good. That's the way I want it," Bauer said. "The more Jaycee Jager threatens Bix, the more desperate he becomes. We've been cutting into his drug trade and stealing away his customers for three months. By sending that cowboy to shake us down, Bix showed his hand. That was his first mistake."
* * *
12:52:09 p.m. PDT
Babylon Hotel and Casino, Las Vegas
Jong Lee recognized his visitor the moment the man was ushered into the luxury suite. The face he had seen many times, on American television, and on the covers of American magazines and newspapers. Although Jong knew everything there was to know about this man — from his humble birth in the deep South to his impressive athletic and political careers — nothing could prepare him for Congressmen Larry Bell's size and physical presence.
Hunzhang! Where does this brute purchase his clothing} Lee wondered.
Smiling affably, Jong Lee rose and moved to greet the newcomer. At nearly six feet, Jong was tall for a Chinese man. But the former pro basketball player towered over him. When they shook, Lee's pale hand disappeared in the American's ebony fist. Protocol demanded Jong bow, so he did. Not deeply, but enough to show respect. Tradition also dictated that Jong's head should never be lower than his visitor's — symbolic of his own dominant position in the coming negotiations. But in this case, he would have to forego tradition.
"Please sit down, Representative Bell," Jong said. "I realize how busy you must be. You are quite generous to spare me even a moment of your time."
"You're the one who's generous, Mr. Lee," Representative Bell replied. "I know how busy you must be. Your firm operates five factories in Hong Kong alone..."
Jong crossed his legs. "I'm impressed, Congressman. You have done your homework."
Silently, Jong Lee's associate, a petite woman named Yizi, set a mahogany tray on the table between the two men. Aromatic steam rose from a porcelain tea pot. Gracefully she served. Her blue-black hair was swept to one side. Bell's eyes followed the cascade along one delicate cheek, past her pale throat. The only sound in the room was the rustling of her black dress, the tap of her heels on the marble floor. Mesmerized, Bell continued to follow her movements. When the woman placed the warm cup before him, her alabaster hand briefly brushed his.
"You were saying, Congressman..."
The man blinked, faced the speaker. "I was saying that I'm delighted you made this trip, Mr. Lee. But I also admit I'm surprised."
Jong Lee raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.
"What I mean to say is that you're a chip manufacturer from China, and the Pan-Latin Anti-Drug Conference chiefly involves business leaders and law enforcement officials from the major Latin American drug producing nations..."
"Ah, I see your point, Congressman," Jong said with a wry laugh. "I suppose I could plead altruism, mumble a collection of familiar platitudes about how we're all part of the global community, and in an evershrinking world no issue is truly local, but the truth is, my firm also operates a factory in Mexico, so