Still, he had told her that he would ask the lieutenant, and that he would pose the question fairly. His word was his bond. Always had been, always would be.
Somehow he knew that when Lieutenant Driscoll said no, Annabel was still going to find some way to blame him for it.
"Good morning, Mr. Brady!" an enthusiastic voice said from behind him. "What can I do for you this fine day?"
Cole turned to see the dapper little grocer standing there with a grin on his face. "I, uh, came to buy some coffee."
"I saw you talking to Miss Lowell. She's a very pretty girl, don't you think?"
"Yeah. Very pretty."
"You're acquainted with her?"
"We've met before," Cole said. He didn't feel like explaining the brief but complicated history that existed between him and Annabel. Instead, he stuck his hands in his pockets and followed Avallone into the market to get the coffee.
****
Across the street, a few feet back from the mouth of a narrow alley, a dim figure moved through the shadows, retreating stealthily. The watcher did not know if what he had just seen was important. Making such judgments was up to someone else; his job was simply to report what he had observed.
A network of alleys led the watcher out of North Beach and into Chinatown. Through a rear entrance, he went into a ramshackle building that fronted on Grant Avenue. The windows of the building were boarded up, and the doors hung crookedly from broken hinges. Inside, the corridor in which the watcher found himself was dim and dusty and littered with trash. At the far end of the hallway was a door which looked just a little too solid for such a dilapidated structure.
The watcher, who wore the pajama-like garb and conical hat of a coolie, rapped on the door in a prearranged sequence. A tiny panel in the door opened, a dark eye peered out at him for a second, and then the panel was snapped shut. The door itself swung soundlessly open a moment later.
The watcher stepped through into another world, a world of colorful silk tapestries and jade carvings and opulent trappings. And this was just the foyer. The room beyond, into which the door guard led him, was ten times as luxurious.
Eyes downcast, the watcher went to his knees in front of the huge chair of carved teak in which his lord and master lounged. In sharp, almost contemptuous tones, the master told him to speak, and the watcher did so. A torrent of rapid Chinese poured out of his mouth.
Though the watcher had not dared to look directly at either of the room's occupants, he had caught a glimpse of a white man in one of the other chairs. The master had a visitor, and so the watcher was not surprised when the master turned his head and spoke to the man in the tongue of the whites.
"He says that Brady met a beautiful woman in North Beach at one of the markets."
"Well, well, well. That's very interesting, Wing Ko. I wasn't aware that Brady was involved with any women at present. We'll have to look into this and find out who she is. You never know when something like that will turn out to be valuable."
The watcher understood more of the white man's tongue than he let on. He was only a lowly spy, not boo how day, but he aspired to be more someday. He would gladly wield a hatchet for his master and would be honored if he was ever called upon to give his life for the glory of his tong. But for now, the master spoke to him and told him to return to his home. Another of the master's legion of followers would keep an eye on the white fireman. The watcher bowed until his head touched the brilliantly polished parquet floor, then backed out of the room to show the proper respect.
****
Annabel had a hard time concentrating on what Mrs. Noone was saying that afternoon. She struggled to take accurate notes, but her mind was elsewhere.
She had missed Cole so badly and wanted to see him so much, but then when she finally did, she had fouled up the whole thing.
It was just that it all made such perfect sense. The competition between the San Francisco and Oakland Fire Departments would be the perfect opportunity to demonstrate to Cole that she was capable of handling a fireman's job. She had thought that surely even he would be able to see that.
But no, he had been a typical bullheaded male, the same sort of man she had run into time and time again during her career as a firefighter. Only Cole was worse, because he'd never even been exposed to the idea that a woman could do a job just as well as a man.
She had managed to extract his promise to ask his lieutenant about her competing in the contest, and Annabel supposed that under the circumstances that was the best she could do. She knew that Cole would keep his word. She wasn't sure how she knew that, but she did.
And then . . . and then . . .
You look very lovely today.