Interludes: Miami (1990)

 

Miami (1990)

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The flight had been a long one; and due to the nature of his work he hadn’t slept on either of the connecting flights that had gotten him from Marseilles to Miami by way of London. Michael was relieved to feel the 747 touch down briskly at Miami International Airport. Just another hour to sort out the customs declarations and he would be at the hotel enjoying a hot shower and then some bed.

As he got up from his seat and gathered his things he smiled at Paris and made his way out. She would be on the return flight to London for their normal service. Michael had been on the job nonstop the past four months and had neglected his accrued vacation time. While common in Japan to forego a holiday for your employer, some habits die hard. Michael’s love of paid time off was one of those things he hadn’t been able to quite let go. As soon as he felt the thick, miami air, he knew he was in a different environment.

In his days at the RHKPD, miami vice, would often be playing in the background at police headquarters; translated into Cantonese of course. Reality is often disappointing was a phrase often muttered by the guys on their way out for a patrol. The closest thing to a house boat any of them could afford on a cop’s salary in Hong Kong was likely a a piece of driftwood with an umbrella spiked into it. Regardless of the realities, it wasn’t a surprise that most of them had fantasized of taking out the bad guys on Ocean Drive.

Michael called a taxi and smiled at the refreshing change of pace. It is always a chore to find the local consulate vehicle in the garage, or worse yet, have a driver assigned to pick you up. The silence inside the cab was golden. Perhaps exaggerated a bit by the lack of a common shared language Michael had with his driver. He had picked up a bit of Spanish as needed in his travels; but a fluent speaker he was not. The cab was a box caprice. Michael had always loved the box Chevy’s and was rather satisfied with the cab ride as he smiled to himself. The caprice pulled onto Collins Ave and 14^th St. and stopped at the hotel Parisian. It was a small, deco inspired hotel he had been recommended by one of Paris’ friends who worked out of the Miami Hub. The place was quaint and definitely gave off Miami vibes. The clerk at the register greeted Michael as he walked in.

“Sorry we don’t have anyone to take your bags at the moment; he quit yesterday.”  Michael couldn’t help but laugh out loud at the directness of the statement. He thought to himself, I'm sure she’s Latin, and approached the front desk with a slowed gate.

“Ah, no worries Michelle, I don’t need all the formalities. We spoke on the phone yesterday about room 111? The corner suite overlooking Collins. I was told it has one of the best views in the city.”

“Yes, Mr. Chang, we were able to make sure we reserved that for you. Your diplomatic attache arrived yesterday, we kept it locked up overnight, I personally brought it to your room no more than 30 minutes ago. Quite a heavy bag for a diplomat…”

Michael brushed off the casual curiosity as just that, “Well, you know, I like to leave work behind, but I cant ever quite seem to escape it.”

Michelle smiled and moved quickly to change the topic of conversation. “The Parisian is honored to host a diplomat’s personal vacation.”

“Yes, Quite.” Michael motioned over to an empty bar at the other end of the lobby. “I’m assuming the bartender resigned recently as well?”

Michelle laughed “actually I’m also the bartender, part time. But all we have is wine and whiskey, so not really much of a bar.”

“Does a bar really need anything else?” Michael smiled already making his way to see what whiskey’s they had lying around. He swung his arm around the bar and felt the tops of the bottles. He pulled up a bottle of Jameson’s and asked Michelle to charge it to his room.

“I don’t sleep much on flights so I’m gonna head up and rest.”

He chose to take the stairs as it was only on the second floor. He walked into the room and put his things down at the foot of the bed, from the corner of his eye, he could see the Diplomatic bag and brushed it off. Why they always insist on you taking your tools on vacation was a mystery to him. It seemed to him needless and unnecessary, but he also noted to himself, he is not Japanese.  A few hours of sleep can really improve things. Michael smiled to himself as he was not not subject to anyone’s timeframe. He thought for a moment, and against his better judgement, decided to call and check in with the Tokyo office. He picked up the phone and made the requisite call to advise of his location and status, he left the room number should they need to send him anything. Because for Michael Chang, even a vacation is not a vacation. He washed up and put on the requisite tourist clothing and made his way down the empty bar.

 

Finally, Michael was at peace, he sat at the bar and looked out the lobby onto Collins avenue. The lobby was quiet, there was some light piano music in the background, but it wasn’t enough to mask Michelle’s frustrated ramblings at the front desk. He laughed to himself “Vacations are hard work.” After he had finished the whiskey he served himself, he left a tip at the bar, and walked out onto the street. The salty air hit him right away, it reminded him of mornings in Hong Kong. He could remember in every slightest detail, his last night in Hong Kong. He remembered waking up that morning, and it was like any other, however, he never made it home that night. Michael brushed away the memories before they began to sting and looked up at the sky as he walked towards the sounds of the ocean. He was centrally located and only a block away from the water. For a moment, he thought of the attache, and his newly ordered tool. A Wilson Combat custom 1911, it had started life as an ordinary officer’s ACP model. Michael had heard about Bill Wilson in the competitive shooting circles and he had become known as a man who built extremely reliable 1911’s. On vacation, as one should, he allowed his mind to wander and it just settled on his new tool. He didn’t want to open the attache to look at it as it felt like cheating on your vacation. He walked towards 10^th street and headed east. The music and flavor of the city was starting to whisper to him. More than anything, Michael’s best skill, and the one that kept him alive the most was his ability to disappear anywhere, and into any culture. And so he let the salsa music move him. He stopped at a hat store and admired the Panama hats from the window. A few moments later he walked out with his new hat and he decided to ditch the floral shirt for a handmade Cuban guayabera. Now he definitely started to feel like part of the city. As he continued his walk to the beach, he thought of how much of the world he had seen, and how much he had to enjoy it while at the end of a loaded gun. “Not this time.” He said allowed to himself.

 

 

Love and a Loaded Gun

 

Michael Chang was sat in the sand admiring the water. He was an exceptionally strong swimmer. A byproduct of private swimming lessons his father had enrolled him in as a kid. His dad would often tell him. “There’s a bit of Brit in you son, and we are sea peoples.” Michael’s dad had a way with words and a flair for the dramatic. It was no wonder he was able to win his mother over. Her family being a well respected and successful lineage tracing their origins back centuries to the island of Hong Kong.

 At that moment, he noticed a man off in the distance, the way he moved felt professional. Michael shrugged off his paranoia and reminded himself that he’s on vacation. The man was taking the long way to Michael’s whereabouts, he sighed and stood up. Better to be safe than sorry. Michael made a straight line back to the street. He wasn’t armed, why would he be, suddenly he remembered the attache. The Japanese have their ways, and at this moment he was grateful. He thought perhaps even on vacation, he should carry his 1911. As Michael reached the street he took a quick look over his shoulder and didn’t see the man anywhere behind him. “It is so hard to have a vacation.”

Michael stopped by a florist shop and made his way back to the Parisian. As he was getting close he could see Michelle out side on a ladder. Apparently, she was also the maintenance staff.

“I brought some flowers for the front desk.”  Michelle was busy plastering some stucco, she looked down at him, mildly entertained by his antics. “Thanks, our florist quit last week.”  Michael made his way into the lobby and as he placed the flowers on the desk, he noticed through the mirror that same man from earlier. His curiosity had now become attention. Michael made his way back up to his room. As soon as he entered the room he made a bee line to the attache. He unlocked the case and pulled the 1911 out to inspect it; he also grabbed his Smith and Wesson .38 and tucked it inside his waistband. He made his way towards the table and looked outside onto Collins Ave. He scanned the area and didn’t see any sign of the man. “I think we’ll call him Jeff.” Michael said to himself as he field stripped the Wilson Combat Custom. He looked down at the 1911 and inspected it’s pieces, the quality of the craftsmanship was impressive. After he reassembled it, he slipped the firearm back into it’s case. Michel noticed a business card in the bag and pulled it out. There was a hand written message on the back that said.

“Mr. Chang, it is our great pleasure to have made this for you.” – Bill and Ken

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Michael smiled to himself and lay down on the bed. He took a swig of the Jameson’s and laid there enjoying the silence. He slowly drifted off to sleep. A few hours had passed and night had fallen on the city. Michael slid out of bed and headed to the shower. The water was piping hot and soon the room looked more like a sauna than a hotel room. Michael made his way down to the lobby. He turned the corner and was left stunned. He first noticed the shoes, they were red with straps that went halfway up her calf. Then there was the dress, she had on a white silk dress. The silk was quality, Michael could tell. His mother’s family had been silk traders for several generations before the second world war. Michael grew up with hours of familial conversations concerning the quality, or lack thereof, in the modern day silk trade. As a kid, Michael would ask his mother, if the family was so passionate about silk why not still be in the trade. His mother’s answer was a simple one. “Mahjong pays better.”

 

The woman locked eyes with him and with a cool smile simply said. “Good evening, Michael.”

Michael was a bit confused, for a moment his mind made the mental note of the revolver tucked in his waistband. He glanced at the front desk and Michelle was there apparently unbothered by this one other guest. Michelle noticed Michael looking over at her and she yelled. “She’s hot and said she knew you.” Michael laughed and asked the woman.

“Agency or Private?”

She smiled back and said “Private, my name’s Beretta.” Michael took a moment to process the answer and the manner in which it was delivered. He now locked eyes with her to examine their character. “Are you here alone?” he asked

“Yes, I am on assignment alone. But we are not alone.”

Michael smiled and took a moment. “You want to clue me in?”

Beretta smiled and laid back in the chair. As she leaned back her dress slipped a bit higher on her hips and he could see the tip of a Saturday night special Beretta Minx peaking out on her right hip. “Well, Michael, if I were to tell you what’s going on I’d lose my bonus. And I really want that bonus.”

Michael smiled and sat down next to her. “So, Beretta, where do I need to go?”

She glanced towards the door. “Down the street there’s a gentleman’s club. It’s run by the Russian mafia and they don’t treat their ladies very nice. Any more and I’ll lose that bonus.”

“Fair enough, but you want me to go in there unarmed? It’s not like I have any kind of authority here. I don’t even carry a diplomatic passport.”

Beretta stood up and leaned over and whispered in Michael’s ear. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Just remember where we hide the minx.” She stood up and walked out onto the street and into a red Mercedes SL500. Michael looked at her as she sped off. When she did, he caught the reflection of Jeff in one of the windows across the street. Michael went back upstairs and placed his revolver back into the attache. He said to himself “remember where we hide the minx.”

Michael made his way back down and headed out onto the street. The club was only a couple blocks from the hotel. Michael looked up at the bright neon lights and could hear them buzzing. He thought to himself, impossible to mix business and pleasure.  He paid the door charge and was frisked. He then made his way down the dark hallway and into the club’s main hall.

 

Michael stepped through a set of red velvet drapes and took in  the club. He looked around and caught sight of the bar. He made his way over slowly, taking his time so he could scan the entire place. Michael noticed right off the bat there was something off about the girls working there. While he was no veteran of strip clubs; he had been in enough of them to know when the vibes were off. Some of the girls were sitting staring off into the distance; and the others simply seemed disinterested. He leaned against the bar and was soon greeted by a brunette vixen. In a thick, eastern European accent she asked, “Hello love, anything to drink?” 

Michael did his best to concentrate as he was thrown by her looks. She had deep, brown eyes that glinted like a gun’s barrel when the light caught them just right. “Stoli, neat.”

She seemed pleased with this order and quickly came back with a shot glass and a bottle of Soviet era vodka. “I leave the Bottle for you baby, I’m Tatiana if you need anything else. Michael smiled and watched her walk away. She moved with a quiet confidence that left an impression on Michael.

Michael did his best to look like he enjoyed the vodka. He leaned against the bar and started to look around. Soon, some ladies had come up to make their introductions, he tipped accordingly, all the while examining their mannerisms for signs of duress and their bodies for any signs of physical abuse. He really didn’t pick up on much out of the ordinary, other than they all seemed drugged, and not in the good Miami kind of way that the city had become notorious for. No, this seemed like something else. Michael’s first thought was something with needles. From his years in the Hong Kong PD, he knew tract marks were easy to hide in between toes. He made his way over to a booth to watch some of the dancers work the pole. That is when he knew; something is seriously wrong. The girls were barely able to complete a routine. He looked over to examine the patrons of the club and none of them seemed touristy.

Michael Chang knew he was the one who clearly didn’t belong.

Satisfied with his initial investigation he decided to ask for a dance. He looked over the girls and noticed one who seemed to stick out. She had caught his eye when he was at the bar and now she was slowly making her way over to him.  She stopped at each table and greeted the patrons. She finally arrived at Michael’s table and greeted him. She was a natural blonde, with long legs, what caught Michael by surprise was her accent, it was English.

“Where are you from stranger?” She sat down next to him and he noticed her eyes were clear and present. Michael did a risk assessment and replied. “My friend told me I should check this place out.”  She smiled cooly at him. “Well stranger, fancy a dance?”

Michael simply smiled and nodded. She took him by the hand, “call me Candy.” She led him to the back. As he sat down she closed the curtain behind them. “Beretta sent you?” she said with a skeptical note in her voice. Michael had grown accustomed to being underestimated. He smiled and said “I’m the best she could get on such short notice.” Candy sat next to him and began to speak softly into his ear.

“I’ve been working this place for 3 months now. The owners are definitely trafficking some of these girls, and there’s a new management group that wants to take over.”

Michael was now focused, his mind sharpened, “What’s the issue?”

Candy replied “The owners have the local PD in their pockets plus some blackmail on the administration.”  Michael knew his task just became a lot more difficult. She continued, “the new management group wants to take over this place and clean up this part of the beach. They call themselves the “group of six” and don’t like what’s going on here anymore than we do.”

Michael knew the time was running out as the song ended. He got up and looked at Candy. “Let me think all this over. We’ll see each other again soon.” Michael paused before he stepped out of the small room and said. “I do love the posh midlander accent.” Candy smiled at him and they both walked back out to the main floor. Michael didn’t want to raise any more suspicion than he already had. He made his way back to the bar and asked for another Stoli. He pretended to enjoy it , then found another girl and asked her for a dance. Shortly after Michael feeling a bit light headed from the vodka and women calmly made his way out of the club.

He had made it maybe half a block from the club when he quickly found himself face down on the ground. There was a man on top of him with a Badge around his neck. Michael came to his senses but didn’t struggle; he felt the cuffs slip onto his wrists and the man pulled him up. He slammed Michael against a Chevy Caprice, which Michael gathered from his glance at the interior, was an unmarked police vehicle.

“Well, what is this? You got drugs on you scumbag?” Michael kept quiet and the man stuffed him in the back of the car.

As soon as the Detective sat in the front seat he looked at Michael through the rearview. “I’m sorry about that Mr. Chang, I had to make this convincing. I’m gonna have to take you to the station. We won’t book you but we need to make everything look copacetic.”

Michael was piecing things together. He decided to take a chance and ask a question. It was simply one word “Beretta?” The detective put the car in drive and looked back at Michael again through the rearview. “Yes, she’s a friend, you can call me Devin, I’m a detective with the local PD. I’m trying to turn this department around.”

Michael was impressed by the man. He came off as someone who had integrity. He could tell by the eyes. Any cop whose spent enough time on the beat knows the eyes can tell you everything you need to know. “One man against a whole city? I like those odds Devin. The detective smirked and replied “Change always starts with one man, hopefully it becomes contagious.”

Suddenly that Bruise on Michael’s face didn’t feel so bad.

 

 

 

 

 

Niet

Two men stood looking through the one sided mirror that overlooked the club. The tall one, was smoking a cigarette and noticed Michael walk into the bar. He looked over to the man on his left.

“You seen this one before?” he said skeptically to the man beside him. The man next to him was a short, stocky man. He resembled a slab of concrete poured vertically.

“Niet” the man said curtly. He added “Chinese tourist.”

The tall man took a long pull of his cigarette “Maybe, but somethings off, he seems a bit too interested in everything but the women.”

“Da” the stocky one replied. They noticed Michael take the blonde to the back. Both men looked at each other almost in silent agreement. Let’s have him picked up when he leaves, make something up.

“Da” the other replied.

The two men stood in silence as Michael and Candy walked back out onto the floor. Their eyes followed Michael closely as he went and sought another lap dance. The tall one simply added. “Have him picked up we want him gone.”

The short one headed towards the back of the room and picked up a phone. His conversation was brief. He hung up the phone and walked back to the mirror. “They’ll have someone waiting for him outside.”

The tall one said nothing for a while and waited until Michael walked back onto the floor. His eyes followed Michael closely until he walked beneath them towards the exit.

“It is curious he came here so early. Find out what you can from the local PD”

“Da” The other replied.

Miami Supercop

As he had promised, Michael soon found himself being let out the back of the police station. He was given a plastic bag for his belongings and he began to make his way home. The station was a little more than a mile from his Hotel and he slowly began to make his way back. He decided to take a more circuitous route to avoid the club and it’s surroundings. Devin had promised he would keep an eye on him and provide overwatch. Michael finally landed at the Parisian and opened the door to see Michelle, buffing the floors with a wax buffer. Michael laughed out loud and she looked at him. “Do you own this place or what?”

Michelle turned off the buffer. Not saying a word she made her way over to behind the bar. She flipped a switch under the bar and purple neon lights turned on behind her. She took a glass and poured a Jameson. Michael made his way over to the bar, without saying a word, he sat down to her right. Michael had hardly put the glass down as he heard the clicking of heels coming down the stairway. He looked over and saw Beretta making her way over.

She sat next to him, nudged his shoulder with hers, and said “You did better than I expected.”

Michael looked a bit confused, “How so?”

Beretta laughed and looked at Michelle and they both smiled. Michelle poured Beretta a whiskey. She sipped and said. “You got arrested.”

Michael looked at her a bit confused, “was that part of your plan?”

Beretta looked at him “You found our Supercop.”  Michael was thoroughly confused.

He took a sip of whiskey. “Beretta, I’m gonna need a little more help here.”

Beretta took down the rest of her whiskey and said flatly. “We have had our eyes on Devin for quite some time. He does the right thing, even when no one is watching. But like most men, he needed a nudge in the right direction. You were that nudge.” She continued “He is actually watching us right now. As he promised.” She pointed vaguely above her.

Michael looked straight up at the ceiling. “He’s on the roof?”

Beretta smiled. “Oh yes, and he won’t rest until we take that place down. He needed someone he can trust, sometimes that’s a perfect stranger that comes with a strong recommendation.”

Michael laughed and replied. “Damn Beretta, you are good.”

“I know.”

“Miami’s new Supercop, Devin Jara”

 

 

 

 

Salarymen and the New York Reload

The next morning Michael woke up and made his way down to the lobby. He had a bit too much whiskey the night before and was feeling the after effects. He noticed a bag on the counter of the front desk. As he got closer he saw his name on the luggage tag, it was from his old friend John Mason. Michael picked up the bag, it was heavy, alarmingly heavy. He went back upstairs and looked in the bag. He instantly smiled, “John F***in Mason”

Michael looked out the window and saw a tour bus pull up in front of the hotel. Out of the bus poured 20 or 30 tourists. By the way they carried themselves he knew they were Japanese. He was starting to piece together the plan.

As he walked down into the lobby he laughed out loud. There was Michelle doing her best to serve 20 eager salarymen their drinks in some sort of orderly fashion. One of them turned around and saw him and they all cheered.

One man made his way out of the crowd. This was Kaito Fujiwara, Michael’s partner in Tokyo and his protégé.

“Ohayo Michael. I heard you might need some help.” He grabbed Michael by the arm and pulled him through the crowd to the front of the bar. “Before you say anything, we have a tour of the city to do with our friends here.”

Michael simply replied “A bit of vacation.”

Kaito laughed and the two drank to good health. “Well, let’s go see this Miami everyone is always talking about.”

The two mingled amongst the salarymen and made their way onto the bus. The tour would take them through all the great parts of the city, eventually ending up at the Biltmore for more drinks. After all, these are the Japanese. The two men stumbled into the lobby of the Biltmore and their shoes echoed throughout the halls, only exacerbated by the marble floors. The two sat down by the smoking lounge and were soon greeted by Beretta.

“I gather you two have already put together the plan.” Beretta said

The two men nodded in agreement and laughed.

“So tonight then?” 

Michael remembered the bag John had sent him. “Tonight will work, the salarymen are always ready.” He continued “Do you think Devin can get us a blind spot on the club for 20 minutes?” Beretta nodded in agreement. Michael noticed some of the staff look at Beretta in a strange way. The kind of way you would look at someone you swore you knew. Michael brushed it off and continued to talk to Kaito about the goings on back home in Tokyo.

“I won’t lie Mike, things have been pretty hectic lately. The ambassador has been working out the details on several trade agreements and he fears they will have a negative impact on our economy.”

“That’s politics” Michael said flatly. “How is Komuro san doing?”

“He’s fine, he sends his regards, he wants you back as soon as this vacation is over.” The two cackled for a few minutes at the absurdity of it all. The men bid farewell to Beretta and made their way with the salarymen back to the bus. Now that they were sat and the sightseeing had been done, Michael began to formulate a plan. “I’m assuming you brought Mason’s package with you?”

Kaito replied, “A diplomatic seal was the only way to get it into the states.”

Michael knew what this meant. There could be no mistakes. Particularly the famous kind.

The two sat in silence for a bit until Kaito said “Twenty minutes is more than enough.”

Michael replied “Once the action starts I’ll need you to get all the girls out the back and onto the bus.”

Kaito looked at him and nodded in agreement. The bus stopped in front of the club just as the sun was setting and the hoard of salarymen did their job and overwhelmed security. After all, with a 10 dollar cover charge the men were seeing profits and not security risks. Everyone knows Japanese tourists come fast and spend liberally when abroad. Soon they all found themselves in the club and Michael had John’s bag with him. About an hour passed and the club was at full tilt. They were overwhelmed by the sheer amount of drink orders and lap dances. Sometimes it pays off when all foreigners think you look the same.

Suddenly shots rang out at the entrance of the club. Beretta came in guns blazing, her 92’s unleashing accurate cover fire and making everyone duck for cover. Michael pulled out his Wilson Combat and took aim at the mirror above the club. The .45 is the perfect caliber to shatter a plate glass window. The glass started to fall on the club,  sparkling like tears in the rain. Michael reached into the bag and pulled a pair of smoke grenades, with perfect aim he flung them into the upstairs office. He sprinted up the stairs towards the office.

Meanwhile, Beretta was picking off security as if she was in a Hong Kong action film. Doing barrel rolls from cover to cover, expertly eliminating security and yelling something Spanish. Probably something along the lines of “Vaya con Dios.”

Michael made his through the door and fired one shot at the shorter man, instantly putting him down. He pulled the trigger a second time and click nothing. Before he knew it he was grappling with the taller Russian. The man had the physical advantage and tossed Michael against the rear wall. As he rushed towards Michael. He pulled the revolver from his waistband and emptied the 5 rounds into the man. The man dropped short in front of Michael. The blood quickly pooling around his still twitching body.

Michael got up as fast as he could and made his way downstairs. Beretta and Kaito had already emptied the club of the girls and the salarymen.

Beretta yelled “Let’s go Michael, move your ass.” He rushed behind her and they all got into the bus just as it started to move.

Devin calmly walked to the entrance of what was once the nightclub. He could hear the sirens wailing in the distance and knew he didn’t have much time. Devin needed the books. He made his way up the stairs and quickly found the safe tucked behind the small bar at the rear of the office. He pulled out his own 1911 and made quick work of the lock. Inside was just what he needed. Names, Payrolls, and Payoffs.  By the time the rest of the Police had made it there he had already placed the book under the seat of his caprice. When the cops arrived they were shocked at the scene. The Captain looked at Devin in bewilderment. “What the hell happened here?”

Devin shrugged calmly . “beats me, I just heard the call on the radio and happened to be close by.” He thought to himself. “enjoy prison cocksuckers”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Turn the Beat Around

The rest of the night had been a blur. A great deal of drinking and bar hopping had transpired and just as soon as they arrived. Kaito and the salarymen were gone with hardly anything but a legendary bar tab to mark they had been there. Michael slept better than he had the entire vacation.

The next morning, he packed up his things and made his way downstairs. He looked outside and noticed Beretta in her red Mercedes waiting for him. She looked at him as he made his way outside. “Need a ride to the airport?”

Michael laughed out loud and tossed his things in the backseat of the convertible. She asked him “Have you heard of the Miami Sound Machine?”

“Can’t say that I have.” He replied.

They arrived at the airport’s departure terminal and she said. “Let me walk you to security.”

“Aren’t you worried about the car?” Michael asked.

Beretta smirked “Trust me it will be fine right here.”

As the two made their way through the terminal. Every one had the same look Michael noticed at the Biltmore. For some reason everyone was taking a second look, but it wasn’t at him. As they arrived at the security checkpoint Michael said. “Well, thanks for the vacation Beretta.”

She offered him her hand and said.

“My friends call me Gloria”

 

Michael Chang’s Debut Novel “Jade Dragons” Will be out shortly….