Inside the Shadow City (26 page)

“We're here to see Oona. We're associates of hers,” I informed the woman. Those appeared to be the magic words. A smile flashed across her face.

“Certainly,” she cooed. “Miss Wong is with a client at the moment. Please have a seat, and I'll let her know you're here. Is there anything I can get for you?”

“Two café au laits, if you don't mind,” said Kiki, staring ahead with a sly smirk on her face. I followed her eyes and discovered Oona hunched over the nails of a woman in a Chanel suit who was whispering with a friend at the next table. Both of the older women had indulged in so much plastic surgery that they no longer appeared quite human. One resembled a giant, wig-wearing insect and the other could have passed for a homely extraterrestrial.

As the hostess glided past Oona on the way to make our coffees, she gave her boss an almost imperceptible nod. Oona glanced up and spotted us waiting. She betrayed no surprise at seeing Kiki sitting on her couch, though I thought I saw her stifle a grin.

“I always suspected that Oona might be a financial genius,” Kiki said.

“Yes, her business seems to be doing well,” I noted. There wasn't an empty seat in the house.

“So she hasn't explained her scheme to you?” Kiki's raised eyebrow told me that she knew something I didn't.

“Scheme?” I asked. “She hasn't said anything about a scheme. You know how secretive Oona can be. I've known her for more than two years, and I still don't know where she lives.”

“Well, it's pretty easy to figure out what she's up to.
Take a look at all the girls who work here. Other than the woman at the door, what do they all have in common?”

I glanced around the shop.

“They're all young and they're all Chinese,” I said. “But so is Oona. It's hardly out of the ordinary.”

“Maybe not. Now take a look at all of the women who are here to have their nails done. See anything unusual?”

My eyes passed over dozens of wealthy clients. They were all chatting as if there were no one else in the room.

“They brought their friends?”

“Yes. And why do they feel so free to gossip in front of the women who work here?” I watched Oona, who was mutely applying the finishing touches to her client's manicure. Suddenly, I knew what she was doing.

“Oona's clients don't think the Chinese girls who work here speak English,” I said. “So they'll say
anything
in front of them.”

“Exactly. Oona's not just painting that woman's nails, she's listening to everything the woman says. Gossip, stock tips, you name it. Oona's just a fly on the wall. So are the rest of them, for that matter. This room has more flies than the city dump. And they're all gathering information that Oona can use. I bet she even has her employees wired.”

“My God, you're right,” I said as the faux Italian woman returned with two steaming café au laits. “Oona
is
a genius.”

We sipped our coffee and watched Oona bow to her client and accept a tip with a smile. The insect and her alien friend marched past us on their way out the door. Oona trailed behind them.

“You come?” Oona asked in a thick accent, gesturing toward the back of the shop. We followed behind her, past scores of women deep in conversation, and into an office in the rear of the building. As soon as the door was closed, Oona stripped out of her smock.

“Well, well. Look who's all grown up now,” she said to Kiki. “Long time no see. Can you believe that old biddy gave me a two-dollar tip? Rich people can be so cheap.”

“Still, I suspect the experience was worth your while.” Kiki grinned.

“She did tell a funny story about her daughter getting kicked out of school. The idiot hired someone to take the SATs for her. She might have gotten away with it if it hadn't been a forty-year-old guy with gray hair and a beard. I had to hold my breath to keep from laughing at that one. Oh yeah, and you might want to purchase some stock in a company called Fem-Tex Pharmaceuticals. Her ex-husband says it's about to introduce a miracle drug that cures female baldness. And the size of my bank account is proof that he's rarely wrong.”

“It's quite an operation you have here,” I said.

“You guys didn't really believe that I was just sitting around painting nails every afternoon, did you?”

“I guess I should have known better.”

“Yeah, you should have,” agreed Oona. Suddenly her expression turned serious and she glared at Kiki. “But I don't think that's the point of your visit. What are
you
doing here?”

“Never one to mince words, were you, Oona?” said Kiki.

“I don't like to waste time. It's money, after all.”

I let Kiki explain herself, listening with amusement as Oona barraged her with questions. Eventually, Oona started to come around.

“So what do you think, Ananka?” she finally asked me.

I shrugged. “I'm here, aren't I?”

“Luz isn't going to like this.”

“Luz knows better than anyone just how dangerous the NYCMap can be. She'll understand.”

Oona didn't look terribly convinced.

“I'm glad I'm not the one who has to win her over. So how can I be of service?” she asked Kiki.

“Take a look at this.” Kiki reached into her backpack and pulled out Mitzi Mulligan's bronze dragon. Oona's face turned gray.

“I'm guessing you've seen this sort of thing before,” said Kiki.

“It's Fu-Tsang,” Oona said somberly. “There are nine Chinese dragons. Fu-Tsang is the dragon that guards hidden treasures. You're saying Mitzi Mulligan had this?” she asked.

“Yes.”

Oona took the dragon from Kiki.

“This could be more than a thousand years old. I've seen similar bronze figures that have been stolen from ancient tombs in China and smuggled into the United States. Most of them are priceless. But this one's even more interesting. There's a gang in Chinatown that does most of the smuggling. Their leader's an old man named Lester Liu, and they use this dragon as their symbol.”

“Do they smuggle anything other than dragons?” asked Kiki.

“Yes,” Oona said.

“Drugs?” Kiki prompted.

“Sure. The Fu-Tsang gang will smuggle anything they can sell. One week it might be drugs. Another week it could be counterfeit designer handbags. And that's just the start of it. You'd be amazed at what people are willing to buy in New York.”

“Do you know where to find them?” We waited for Oona to answer. I could tell from the look on her face that there was something she wasn't telling us.

“No,” she said. “Lester Liu skipped town a few years ago. They say he runs the gang from Shanghai. And I don't know if we should go looking for the rest of the Fu-Tsang, either. They're not very friendly.”

“I'll keep that in mind. Oh, one more thing.” Kiki pulled out a scrap of gold paper. I remembered seeing the same scrap flutter to the ground when Mitzi dumped out her bag. “Mitzi was carrying this as well.” She handed it to Oona. Only the letters
BANN
could be read.

“It's an invitation,” Oona informed us, her mood lightening. “There were two girls in here yesterday. They must have been about sixteen. One of them had an invitation just like this. From what I've heard, there's a series of elite parties called the ‘Bannerman Balls.' They're top secret. Only the crème de la crème is invited. It sounds strange, but the girls kept talking about boats. I think the parties may be held on an island.”

“That makes sense,” I said. “There's a Bannerman's Island in the middle of the Hudson River just north of the city. It has a castle on it that's been abandoned for years. But how did Mitzi Mulligan or Penelope Young get
an invitation to a party like that? They're more like skim milk than the crème de la crème.”

“The parties were the bait,” said Kiki. “That's where they were kidnapped. Do you know who's throwing the Bannerman Balls?” she asked Oona.

“I don't think my client knew who sent the invitation.”

“What was the girl like?” I asked.

“A total pain in the butt. She kept changing her mind about what color of nail polish she wanted. But other than that, she wasn't that remarkable. Just another blonde with a bad attitude. We get about two dozen of them in here every day. I think her father's a fire chief.”

“Wow,” said Kiki. “Talk about getting lucky.”

“Yeah, how does a fireman's daughter come up with enough cash to hang out with the Bannerman Ball crowd?” I asked.

“
We're
the ones who got lucky, Ananka,” Kiki corrected me. “A fire chief might not be a millionaire, but he
would
have access to the top layer of the NYCMap.”

“So his daughter could be the next victim,” I said.

“Do you remember the girl's name?” Kiki asked Oona.

“Not off the top of my head, but it should be in the appointment book.”

“Did she say when the party was?” Kiki asked.

“Yeah. This Friday.”

“It's already Tuesday,” I moaned.

“We've got to get to her first,” said Kiki. “One of us has to go to the Bannerman Ball in her place.”

• • •

The girl's name was Tyler Deitz. Oona called the number she'd left to confirm her appointment at the Golden Lotus. In her thickest Chinese accent, Oona told the girl's mother that Tyler had forgotten a schoolbook at the salon. If she could only have their address, she'd be happy to send a messenger to return it. The woman thought nothing of giving her address to a perfect stranger, and within five minutes, we were in business.

The three of us headed over to Tyler's building on the Upper East Side, and waited across the street for her to emerge. Oona would identify the right girl, and Kiki's Vespa would allow us to follow her wherever she might go. That way we could get her alone. There was no point in talking to the girl if her parents were around.

After an hour of not-so-patient waiting, we saw an unpleasant-looking girl with long blond hair exit the lobby of the building and hail a cab.

“That's her,” said Oona. “Good luck.”

Kiki and I jumped on the scooter.

“Tomorrow night. Eight o'clock. Ananka's house,” Kiki called to Oona. Then, with a quick wave, we roared off in pursuit of our prize.

If you plan to follow people in crowded urban environments, I would recommend investing in a scooter. While even the smallest car can get cut off or stalled in traffic, a scooter allows you to avoid any obstacles. She may have been too young for a driver's license, but Kiki was already a master of the Vespa. With little effort and no apparent fear, she zipped around kamikaze cabs, lumbering bicyclists, and men with baby carriages. I held on as we sped through the streets, trying to keep pace with a
taxi hack who had missed his calling as a professional getaway driver.

Just as I was beginning to lose all sensation in my rump, Tyler's cab screeched to a halt in front of a midtown department store. Kiki pulled the Vespa to the curb, and we saw Tyler jump from the car and disappear into the store. I pulled off my helmet and started to follow her, but Kiki caught my arm.

“Slow down, Ananka,” she told me. “There's no rush. It's not like we don't know where to find her. She's not going anywhere for a while.”

We caught up with Tyler on the fifth floor. It was midday on a summer Wednesday, and the store was almost deserted. Only a couple of saleswomen drifted aimlessly among the racks of clothing. Tyler was making her way to one of the dressing rooms, followed by a salesman whose arms were straining beneath a pile of party dresses. Kiki grabbed several random items from one of the racks and shoved them at me.

“What do you say we try a few things on?”

One look at her wicked grin, and I knew she was up to no good. A saleswoman directed us to the fitting room next to Tyler's. As soon as we were alone with our new friend, Kiki knocked on her door.

“I found a few more dresses you might like,” she called to the girl on the other side. The door opened a crack and Tyler peeked out.

“Who are you?” she demanded rudely when she saw the two of us.

“Your fairy godmothers.” Kiki shoved the door open, pushing the girl onto the bench at the back of the stall.

“What the—” Tyler started to shout, but Kiki raised a finger to her lips and slowly shook her head.

“I wouldn't if I were you. One quick call to your parents regarding your plans for Friday night, and I doubt you'll ever find the need for one of these dresses again.”

Tyler glared at us from the bench. She had a lot of nerve for someone who was wearing only her underwear.

“What do you want?” she spat, keeping her voice low.

“The invitation,” said Kiki.

“How …”

“Don't waste my time. It doesn't matter how I know. Just hand it over.”

“No way,” said the girl. “I mean, even if I wanted to give it to you, I couldn't. I left it at home.”

“You're dumb, that's for sure, but you're not stupid enough to leave something like that behind where your nosy mother could find it. Hand me your purse,” Kiki ordered.

Tyler snorted. “Get out or I'll call for help.”

Kiki leaned in close to the girl until their noses were almost touching.

“If you don't hand me that purse, you're going to
need
help.” There was no doubting Kiki Strike's sincerity. The girl thrust the handbag at Kiki. Mixed in with the credit cards, lip gloss, and chewing gum wrappers was a golden invitation. Kiki pulled the envelope out of the bag, never letting her eyes stray from Tyler's. “If you don't mind my asking, how did you get this?”

“It came in the mail,” said the irate girl.

“Return address?” asked Kiki.

“There wasn't one.”

“Did you know about the Bannerman Balls before you got the invitation?”