Yi-Jun Liu spoke in fits and starts for a long time. She recounted how Mintai, through the introduction of the kind and benevolent Nicholas Cheng from Mott Street Charity, met an American doctor. Eventually, under the doctor's persistent persuasion, Mintai agreed to carry her pregnancy to term and hand over her baby to an adoption agency in exchange for $5,000.
"Do you know the name of that American doctor?" Danny asked.
Yi-Jun Liu shook her head. "I've never seen him. I only know he usually shows up at the clinic on Thursdays."
"So later, Mintai changed her mind, didn't she?" Danny said, pushing a box of tissues toward the girl as her tears flowed uncontrollably. "In the end, her maternal instincts triumphed. In the final months of her pregnancy, she just wanted to keep her baby."
"Yes," Yi-Jun Liu said through her tears. "I tried to convince her not to do anything reckless. They're all in on it together, and we can't fight them. But Mintai wanted to hide. That day, she came to me, and I lent her all the $1,500 I'd saved over the years. I told her to have the baby first, then figure things out later.
"But Nelson Zhou found us. They tried to take her away by force. The rest you already know. Fortunately, that kind police officer happened to pass by. But Mintai didn't have time to tell me where she's staying now. I have no idea where to find her. Her phone has been off ever since."
Yi-Jun Liu's tears flowed endlessly, leaving Danny, a rugged man more suited to battling criminals, utterly at a loss. Handling a crying woman clearly wasn't his forte.
"Hey, listen to me," Jack said, pulling out all the cash he had in his wallet. It didn't seem like much, so he turned to Danny and motioned for him to hand over whatever cash he had as well, leaving Danny's pockets completely empty.
"This money is a loan," Jack said, handing it to Yi-Jun Liu. "Find a safe motel in Queens to stay at for now. Every now and then, send Mintai a message. Tell her that Nelson Zhou is dead and that the police can protect her and her baby. If she responds, call me immediately. Don't say anything else. Understand?"
Jack handed her his business card after speaking, then jotted down Mintai's phone number and sent it to the operations center. Jubal would arrange to track the number. If Mintai's phone was turned on, they'd be notified immediately.
"This case makes me sick." Walking out of the restaurant, Danny kicked a cardboard box on the sidewalk, frustration etched across his face.
Jack gazed at the bustling, sunlit Mott Street, still as lively as ever, and couldn't help but sigh.
"Regardless, at least we've figured out what's going on. The most urgent thing now is to find the soon-to-be mother. Whether it's to silence her or take the baby, those gang members won't leave her alone."
Danny looked at the crowded Mott Street, visibly troubled. "They're all undocumented immigrants. We don't even have a decent photo of her. With so many people in Chinatown, where do we even start? We're not even sure she's still in Manhattan."
Jack shared Danny's frustration. He started trying to put himself in Mintai's shoes to deduce her likely actions. "She still has a bit of money, but she's probably saving it for her baby and their future, so she wouldn't spend it recklessly. Most likely, she's hiding in one of those 'gong xi fong' shared housing setups."
"Why do I have a bad feeling that those gang members, familiar with the area, will find her before we do?" Danny muttered.
Jack leaned against his car, hesitating to open the door as he and Danny quietly discussed whether to start by investigating the doctor.
"Why is my dad here?" Danny suddenly asked, his eyes widening in surprise as he looked past Jack.
Jack turned instinctively and saw Frank Reagan walking out of an inconspicuous yellow building, accompanied by several elderly Chinese men dressed in traditional long robes. The men were bidding Frank farewell, bowing slightly as he descended the steps.
Above the building's doorway was a faded red plaque with five Chinese characters written in traditional script: X Sect XX Hall. Above the plaque was a black emblem depicting a compass and square ruler crossed in the center, with a large letter "G" in the middle.
"Would you mind giving me a lift back to the station?" Frank asked with a genial smile as he approached the two detectives, as if their meeting here was entirely expected.
Jack drove as usual, but this time, Frank occupied the front passenger seat, relegating Danny, ever the dutiful son, to the cramped backseat of the Hellcat.
"So, Nelson Zhou's death—does it really match that phrase Jack used? What was it again?" Danny asked, peering at Jack with confusion.
"House cleaning," Jack said after thinking for a moment, though the term didn't quite fully convey the meaning he was aiming for.
"They're never going to admit it outright," Frank said. "In fact, your grandfather might have had better luck handling this. He's very good at understanding the meanings hidden beneath the surface. Those Chinese elders love speaking in riddles."
Frank glanced at Jack with mild curiosity. "How did you guess it might've been those old-timers who ordered the hit?"
"It wasn't hard to deduce," Jack replied. "The old Chinatown centered around Mott Street has been in decline for years. Many of the new gangs are fighting for territory in Flushing.
"I looked into it. After the turn of the century, especially following the 2010 'Operation White Suit,' most traditional gang factions in the U.S. either went legit or disappeared entirely. Even the once-infamous 'Triad' groups have been virtually silent in New York ever since."
Jack was referring to a major FBI sting operation targeting a Chinese gang leader nicknamed "Shrimp Boy" and a Chinese-American state senator with the last name Yee. The operation ended with "Shrimp Boy" receiving a sentence of over 2,900 years, and the senator pleading guilty and serving time. The fallout effectively dismantled what little influence the Triads still held in the U.S.
Of course, there were deeper reasons Jack couldn't share. The real turning point occurred three years earlier, across the Pacific, in 1997. What happened there doesn't need much elaboration.
From that year onward, Chinese criminal organizations collectively referred to as the "Triads" disintegrated almost overnight. The once-dominant gangs either reformed or vanished entirely, with remnants scattered in places like Yi-Jun Liu's homeland.
Even in those remnants, many pivoted to new ventures like telecom fraud, leaving their former power and reputation behind. The Triads' North American factions, deprived of fresh blood and hit by various external factors, dwindled into obscurity.
Back to the present, many small Chinese-American gangs still active in Flushing might claim some tenuous connection to old Triad factions, using their names as a facade. But their operations were limited to petty crimes like extortion and prostitution.
Nelson Zhou's gang, which remained in the old Chinatown centered on Mott Street, likely used a similar ploy to intimidate others.
But this small-time gang caused a major problem. Yesterday's headlines clearly alarmed certain people, especially since the NYPD commissioner and his son were splashed across the front pages.
Jack wasn't sure if some Chinese underground factions had fully reformed into legitimate businesses or merely gone deeper underground. But someone clearly didn't want their name tarnished by a few low-level thugs. So they eliminated Nelson Zhou and left clues for the police.
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