Red Jade

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“Rise up! Yu! Yuh got bodies!”

It was the overnight sarge calling from the 0-Nine, the Ninth Precinct, growling something about Manhattan South detectives into his ear, barking out a location with two bodies attached to it.

As soon as Jack Yu caught the address, he knew: Chinatown again. He was going back to the place he’d left behind when he moved to Brooklyn’s Sunset Park, just across the river but a world away.

It always started with the rude awakening, the alarms going off in his head, the angry clamor, and then the Chinatown darkness snatching him off again, back into the Fifth Precinct, back to unfinished business….

He’d been dead asleep, dreaming he was still partying at the After-Chinese New Year’s party that Billy Bow had pulled together at Grampa’s, aka the Golden Star Bar and Grill, a favorite Chinatown haunt. In this dream, Jack was picturing himself feeding quarters into the big jukebox setup, a rock tune with a deep bass pounding out, Hey son where ya going with dat gun in ya hand? He’s gulping back a beer, scoping out the revelers. Gonna shoot ma lady, she cheat’in wit annuda man.

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