?Jimbo, you?re a sweetheart and I hate to see you break your heart over her.? Nyla tried to consol the big guy.

?I don?t know what to do,? Jimbo groaned mournfully.

?Let me see if I can find her,? she sat another beer in front of Jimbo. Nyla walked over to the waitress station. She needed some breathing room. Jimbo?s regular agonies were hard to tolerate. He was smart enough to see through Tina?s manipulations. He was a sap for her and his brains flew out the window every time she screwed him over.

Mandy was at the station looking at some thing in her hand. ?Hey, what?s that?? Nyla leaned over the bar to get a better look revealing deep clevage. ?S?matter, somebody stiff you on a tip??

?Nah,? Mandy spoke trying to keep her eyes fixed on the palm of her hand. She poked at the thing with a long lacquered fingernail, as if it were road-kill she was poking with a stick. ?I got the tip okay. It was left on the table when I went to clean up. I dunno? what the hell it is. Maybe just an old chicken bone.?

As Nyla leaned closer, her right breast rubbing Mandy’s forearm the China appeared. He too bent over looking at Mandy?s treasure.

?Where you get?? He looked at both the women. ?This not good. Where you get?? As he spoke he became more agitated. ?This very, very bad. Bandit need to know about this.? He shook his head back and forth.

?What?s the matter with you,? Mandy said sarcastically to the cook. ?Ain?t ya? never seen an old chicken bone before??

?What do you think it means?? Nyla turned to the Chinaman. As she spoke she took the object from Mandy?s palm and held it between her two fingers. It appeared to be an ordinary dried chicken leg bone except on one end a hole had been drilled, through the hole was threaded a piece of rawhide. The length of rawhide contained a brass coin with a square hole in the center and Chinese writing around the outer edge. There was also a gem tied to the rawhide. The gem was probably jade, Nyla thought. Jade like those expensive pieces she had seen in the Chinese jewelry shop at Ports o’ Call, a series of international shop farther up the channel.

?Maybe we can ask the jeweler down at the port?? She turned to the Chinaman. But before he could respond, Mandy grabbed it out of Nyla?s hand.

?Hey, that?s mine. It?s part of my tip,? Mandy pouted.

?Look Mandy, there are some strange things going down around here. I mean, those guys that tried to blow us away in the alley the other night. Then the Asian guys asking about Bandit. Then this?.,? she pointed to the chicken bone amulet in Mandy?s hand. I?d like to know if this is a sign of trouble to come. Mandy you can have it after we find out what this is all about. She turned to the Chinaman, but during her tirade to Mandy, he had vanished.

Nyla walked to the kitchens swinging doors. Looking to the inside of the kitchen, he was no where to be found.

?You seen the Chinaman?,? she asked of the Mexican busboy. He just shrugged, either from ignorance, avoidance or fear…

Yeah, Nyla thought, it?s nice when he?s around.?She was supposed to meet Bandit later that evening.

?Hey hon?, could I get a beer?? asked Jimbo, a mountain of a man who’d been sitting in front of Nyla unnoticed.

?Oh Jimbo, I?m so sorry. I was daydreaming.?What?ll you have??

?Dos Equis, no lime, thanks.?

?Coming right up.? Nyla busied herself getting the beer from the cooler behind her.

?Have you heard from Tina?? Jimbo hollered to Nyla over the noise in the Cantina.

As Nyla walked back with Jimbo?s beer, Mandy sidled up to the waitress station at the end of the bar, next to where Jimbo sat. ?Hi ya? Jimbo. ?What?s shakin??? ?Mandy laughed familiarly as she spoke. ? ?You lookin? fer Tina?? She knew Jimbo was always looking for Tina. ?And Tina was always running around. ?Tina was the torment of many men who frequented the Cantina. ?It was just that Jimbo?s infatuation was so obvious.

Nyla glared at Mandy.?She knew what Mandy was up to. They both knew that Tina was with Slick Steve.?Nyla shook her head, trying to squelch Mandy?s penchant for tormenting the vulnerable. ?Mandy was the kind of girl who delighted in the pain of others. As Nyla was trying to signal Mandy to stop, Jimbo turned and noticed Nyla?s efforts.

?Wait a minute, Nyla. ?What do you know? ?I thought you were my friend.?

?I am your friend, Jimbo,? Nyla hesitated. ?She could have killed that damned Mandy. ?She just liked to stir the pot. ??I ??,? Nyla?s answer was interrupted by Mandy.

?Talk to Slick Steve, he knows,? Tina?s insinuating tone was not lost on Jimbo.

?That bastard,? Jimbo slammed his beer down on the bar. ??I warned that son of a bitch to keep his greasy hands off her.? ?He shook his head in disbelief.

?Cut it out,? Nyla snapped back at Mandy, silencing the gum-snapping waitress. Nyla quickly returned to Jimbo. ?Jimbo, you don?t need to lose control over this,? she spoke in a calming manner.

??But Nyla, I can?t help it. ?I?m crazy for her. ?She promised me she?d stop takin? that junk. ?She promised that if I would help her out with the rent, she?d stop takin? drugs.? ?He looked pleadingly at Nyla….

Yeah, Nyla thought, it?s nice when he?s around.?She was supposed to meet Bandit later that evening.

?Hey hon?, could I get a beer?? asked Jimbo, a mountain of a man who’d been sitting in front of Nyla unnoticed.

?Oh Jimbo, I?m so sorry. I was daydreaming.?What?ll you have??

?Dos Equis, no lime, thanks.?

?Coming right up.? Nyla busied herself getting the beer from the cooler behind her.

?Have you heard from Tina?? Jimbo hollered to Nyla over the noise in the Cantina.

As Nyla walked back with Jimbo?s beer, Mandy sidled up to the waitress station at the end of the bar, next to where Jimbo sat. ?Hi ya? Jimbo. ?What?s shakin??? ?Mandy laughed familiarly as she spoke. ? ?You lookin? fer Tina?? She knew Jimbo was always looking for Tina. ?And Tina was always running around. ?Tina was the torment of many men who frequented the Cantina. ?It was just that Jimbo?s infatuation was so obvious.

Nyla glared at Mandy.?She knew what Mandy was up to. They both knew that Tina was with Slick Steve.?Nyla shook her head, trying to squelch Mandy?s penchant for tormenting the vulnerable. ?Mandy was the kind of girl who delighted in the pain of others. As Nyla was trying to signal Mandy to stop, Jimbo turned and noticed Nyla?s efforts.

?Wait a minute, Nyla. ?What do you know? ?I thought you were my friend.?

?I am your friend, Jimbo,? Nyla hesitated. ?She could have killed that damned Mandy. ?She just liked to stir the pot. ??I ??,? Nyla?s answer was interrupted by Mandy.

?Talk to Slick Steve, he knows,? Tina?s insinuating tone was not lost on Jimbo.

?That bastard,? Jimbo slammed his beer down on the bar. ??I warned that son of a bitch to keep his greasy hands off her.? ?He shook his head in disbelief.

?Cut it out,? Nyla snapped back at Mandy, silencing the gum-snapping waitress. Nyla quickly returned to Jimbo. ?Jimbo, you don?t need to lose control over this,? she spoke in a calming manner.

??But Nyla, I can?t help it. ?I?m crazy for her. ?She promised me she?d stop takin? that junk. ?She promised that if I would help her out with the rent, she?d stop takin? drugs.? ?He looked pleadingly at Nyla….

????????The Chinaman walked through the swinging doors of the kitchen, surveying the crowd. ?The calm hum of conversation meant that he could take a break. ?He sauntered over to the end of the bar. ?By the time he got there, Nyla had poured him a mug of hot water for his green tea.

?????????The pace, nice today,? he smiled. ??Thank you.? He bowed his head slightly. ?The both of them stood there regarding the crowd absently. ??Seen Bandit?? ? He spoke to Nyla familiarly but kept his eyes on the crowd.

?????????You?re the second person who?s asked me that in the last hour. ? Not since last weekend. ?I talked to him on the phone though.?

?????????I no see him, either. ?Funny. ?Fridays I make curried rice bowl just for him, spicy. He okay, you think??

?????????Maybe he’s dealing with those young punks who tried to shoot up the place. ?The Tong characters,? Nyla said. ?

????????Yes, I know. I hear.?

????????Nyla sensed there was more to the story, that the Chinaman and Bandit were dealing with something or someone big. The Chinaman never looked in her eyes. She couldn’t tell what was going on. ?

???????Just as Nyla was about to ask the Chinaman for more details, Mandy came up with a wry smile. ??Guess who got a big tip? They’re back.?

?????????Give me a second, I?m kind of slow,? Nyla shot back sarcastically. ?Okay, I?ll play along. ?Who gave you the big tip?? ?

????????Those two in the far booth. ?Chinese import/export guys. ?New to the area,? Mandy said curtly. ??They wanted to know all about the harbor, the guys that come in here, the bar and Bandit. One was one of the guys from the other night.?

?????????What did you tell them?,? Nyla shot back, concerned. ?Her eyes darted around the bar trying to spot the men. ?Where did you say they were??

?????????I didn’t tell them a thing,? Mandy said casually, pointing to an empty booth next to the door. ?They left,? she said, her eyes darting around the room, making a thorough search.

????????Nyla, her bounciness gone, moved to the phone at the back of the bar. The Chinaman turned and walked slowly toward the steamy kitchen. He slipped past the deep sink, the food preparation area, a traffic jam of stainless steel, and past the cold storage cabinents. There was a small yellowed window covered with a grate at the back of the galley. He twisted the handle, opening the iron window. A rented black compact spun to life as the two Asians got in the back seat. The Chinaman noted the license plate number and quietly closed the window. ?

???????Back at the bar, Mandy watched the sedan scoot out of the parking lot from a slit in the thick solid oak front door, the Mac 10 resting easily in her right hand. She almost froze the other night. It wouldn’t happen again. Something was brewing. She signaled to Nyla to not make the hotline call.

Nyla put the receiver down softly. Her hands were alabaster and held everything the way a silk pillow holds a woman’s head. She was bubbly, with a soft touch. Mandy turned toward her and said, “But it’s nice when Bandit’s around.” ?

????????The Chinaman walked through the swinging doors of the kitchen, surveying the crowd. ?The calm hum of conversation meant that he could take a break. ?He sauntered over to the end of the bar. ?By the time he got there, Nyla had poured him a mug of hot water for his green tea.

?????????The pace, nice today,? he smiled. ??Thank you.? He bowed his head slightly. ?The both of them stood there regarding the crowd absently. ??Seen Bandit?? ? He spoke to Nyla familiarly but kept his eyes on the crowd.

?????????You?re the second person who?s asked me that in the last hour. ? Not since last weekend. ?I talked to him on the phone though.?

?????????I no see him, either. ?Funny. ?Fridays I make curried rice bowl just for him, spicy. He okay, you think??

?????????Maybe he’s dealing with those young punks who tried to shoot up the place. ?The Tong characters,? Nyla said. ?

????????Yes, I know. I hear.?

????????Nyla sensed there was more to the story, that the Chinaman and Bandit were dealing with something or someone big. The Chinaman never looked in her eyes. She couldn’t tell what was going on. ?

???????Just as Nyla was about to ask the Chinaman for more details, Mandy came up with a wry smile. ??Guess who got a big tip? They’re back.?

?????????Give me a second, I?m kind of slow,? Nyla shot back sarcastically. ?Okay, I?ll play along. ?Who gave you the big tip?? ?

????????Those two in the far booth. ?Chinese import/export guys. ?New to the area,? Mandy said curtly. ??They wanted to know all about the harbor, the guys that come in here, the bar and Bandit. One was one of the guys from the other night.?

?????????What did you tell them?,? Nyla shot back, concerned. ?Her eyes darted around the bar trying to spot the men. ?Where did you say they were??

?????????I didn’t tell them a thing,? Mandy said casually, pointing to an empty booth next to the door. ?They left,? she said, her eyes darting around the room, making a thorough search.

????????Nyla, her bounciness gone, moved to the phone at the back of the bar. The Chinaman turned and walked slowly toward the steamy kitchen. He slipped past the deep sink, the food preparation area, a traffic jam of stainless steel, and past the cold storage cabinents. There was a small yellowed window covered with a grate at the back of the galley. He twisted the handle, opening the iron window. A rented black compact spun to life as the two Asians got in the back seat. The Chinaman noted the license plate number and quietly closed the window. ?

???????Back at the bar, Mandy watched the sedan scoot out of the parking lot from a slit in the thick solid oak front door, the Mac 10 resting easily in her right hand. She almost froze the other night. It wouldn’t happen again. Something was brewing. She signaled to Nyla to not make the hotline call.

Nyla put the receiver down softly. Her hands were alabaster and held everything the way a silk pillow holds a woman’s head. She was bubbly, with a soft touch. Mandy turned toward her and said, “But it’s nice when Bandit’s around.” ?

By NuttBoy ??????

??Two days passed. The hubbub of the last few nights had died down. ?The normal routine seemed to settle in as Nyla scanned the incoming evening crowd. None of the few bikers that were there were wearing colors. ?The longshoremen had had their fill and left to return to the unhappy marriages and nagging mortgages. ?

???????Nyla appreciated this predictable pace. ?It gave her time to think. ? Her thoughts often returned to Bandit. ?Lately he had been far too absent. ? This always made her a bit insecure. ?It wasn?t so much that he was with someone else, it was that he wasn?t with her. Bandit was the kind of free spirit that couldn?t be contained, like a fire fly caught in a bottle that soon loses its glow. ?

????????Nyla, where are my beers?? Mandy hollered from the other end of the bar. Nyla looked down just as the white crest of beer foam flowed over the side of the mug and over her hand.

?????????Right there,? Nyla said as she wiped her hands on a bar towel. ? ?Sorry,? she said as she set the beers in front of Mandy, ?I was thinking about Bandit.? ?

????????Have you heard from him lately?? Mandy asked as she adjusted her bra strap. ?

????????I had a phone call yesterday.? ????????Mandy gingerly balanced the tray with the four beers. ?She turned to go, then over her shoulder said,??He?s as sweet as home-made sin and twice as deadly, ??least that?s what my mama would say.? She bounced off, shaking her booty as she went. ??

??????Nyla wrinkled her brow. ??What the hell did she mean by that?? she muttered to herself. ??Is that from first- hand experience or what?? ?

???????There was one thing any woman who tried to tie him down found out quickly–he was a wanderer. ?There were a lot of women between the west coast and the Mississippi River that were left looking wistfully at the horizon and pining their hearts out for a dream of latching onto him that never would be. ? There was no moss on this rambling rider.

????????Nyla had no illusions. ?She knew she was part of a saga. ?Exactly what part she played and the duration of her role was what made her anxious. ?The one thing she had going for her was her own independence. ?She could ride and shoot as good as any modern-day Annie Oakley. She was even capable in an old-fashioned fist-fight. ?She had raised her kids on her own. ? She had achieved what she had by her own steel will and determination. ?She was a woman to be reckoned with and a prize to cherish. ?She hoped Bandit felt that way.

By NuttBoy ??????

??Two days passed. The hubbub of the last few nights had died down. ?The normal routine seemed to settle in as Nyla scanned the incoming evening crowd. None of the few bikers that were there were wearing colors. ?The longshoremen had had their fill and left to return to the unhappy marriages and nagging mortgages. ?

???????Nyla appreciated this predictable pace. ?It gave her time to think. ? Her thoughts often returned to Bandit. ?Lately he had been far too absent. ? This always made her a bit insecure. ?It wasn?t so much that he was with someone else, it was that he wasn?t with her. Bandit was the kind of free spirit that couldn?t be contained, like a fire fly caught in a bottle that soon loses its glow. ?

????????Nyla, where are my beers?? Mandy hollered from the other end of the bar. Nyla looked down just as the white crest of beer foam flowed over the side of the mug and over her hand.

?????????Right there,? Nyla said as she wiped her hands on a bar towel. ? ?Sorry,? she said as she set the beers in front of Mandy, ?I was thinking about Bandit.? ?

????????Have you heard from him lately?? Mandy asked as she adjusted her bra strap. ?

????????I had a phone call yesterday.? ????????Mandy gingerly balanced the tray with the four beers. ?She turned to go, then over her shoulder said,??He?s as sweet as home-made sin and twice as deadly, ??least that?s what my mama would say.? She bounced off, shaking her booty as she went. ??

??????Nyla wrinkled her brow. ??What the hell did she mean by that?? she muttered to herself. ??Is that from first- hand experience or what?? ?

???????There was one thing any woman who tried to tie him down found out quickly–he was a wanderer. ?There were a lot of women between the west coast and the Mississippi River that were left looking wistfully at the horizon and pining their hearts out for a dream of latching onto him that never would be. ? There was no moss on this rambling rider.

????????Nyla had no illusions. ?She knew she was part of a saga. ?Exactly what part she played and the duration of her role was what made her anxious. ?The one thing she had going for her was her own independence. ?She could ride and shoot as good as any modern-day Annie Oakley. She was even capable in an old-fashioned fist-fight. ?She had raised her kids on her own. ? She had achieved what she had by her own steel will and determination. ?She was a woman to be reckoned with and a prize to cherish. ?She hoped Bandit felt that way.

The two black-clad and helmeted bikers stood at the entrance of the bar, obvious to the bar?s clientele. An uncomfortable hush fell over the Cantina like a dense fog over the San Pedro Harbor. ?

Mandy pulled the slider back on the MAC 10 then laid it on the bar, aimed at the two men. ?Marko held the riot gun at his side. ?There was no effort to conceal the weapons. ?Rather, Mandy and Marko?s posture indicated an ease and confidence with their weapons. ?And a willingness to use them. Nyla the bartender moved to the end of the bar as instructed in their drills. She lifted the reciever and poised one finger over the blinking red key. Her heart pounded thrusting her cleavage even farther over the edges of her blouse. ?

One of the men took a step forward, then was stopped by the other. For a heartbeat, the scene in the bar was frozen. Other bikes in the bar checked their weapon, but weren’t ready to make them known, and Marko was glad. He didn’t need a drunk or a hero to make a move unnessarily. ?As the two men scanned the bar searching for someone, big Moses stood in the back of the room and gradually pulled his leather jacket aside to reveal a stainless 4-inch barrel .357 mag. Then another rider independent of the first got to his feet gradually putting his hands on his hips revealing a small automatic in his waist band, then another rider stood until the room of men stood as one. All armed to the teeth. Apparently thinking the better of it, the two men turned in unison and left.

The bar soon resumed its normal chaotic buzz of boisterous conversation and juke box music. ?A few continued to watch Mandy, looking for a clue as to what had just transpired. ?Even Marko was a bit confused. Marko turned to Mandy. ?What the hell was that?? ?Marko, who had been familiar with weapons combat, usually liked to know the situation before charging in. ?This situation was sudden and he was unsure as to what just happened.

Mandy first looked at the crowd to make sure everybody was back to normal. ?She then turned to Marko. ??I spotted them in the back alley. ?From their demeanor and weapons, I recognized a professional hit. ?I think those guys are from an Asian gang that has been trying to gain a foothold in the harbor. ?It?s one of those family things, Tongs I think you might call them.?

?That?s old-time organized crime.? ?Marko was familiar with the more violent aspects of Asian culture, having studied various martial arts since he was a child. There were many up-start young Chinese gangs that never lasted long. ?They were usually absorbed by established older, more organized groups with connections to Mainland China. ?Contrary to all the Kung-Fu movies, these Tong clans worked behind the scenes, preferring to use coercion and intimidation rather than outright violence.

The history of Tong clans goes back to the time of the first Chinese immigrants who built the railroads in much of the west coast of America. ?Even though the surface culture of most Chinese-Americans reflected all the modern changes that effected the culture at large, the Tong factor was deep within the character of family structure. ?This was less-like the image of the Italian Mafia, and more like a stern uncle who demanded respect.

?Mandy, if it is what you say, it can be a serious problem for us. ?We need to contact Bandit.?

?I did that first thing,? Mandy said searching Marko?s face for a clue to his apparent concern.

?This isn?t a gang like we?re used to or a group of pissed off longshoremen. This can get really complicated.?

As they talked, Salty Mary sidled up to the end of the bar. ?Salty Mary, a local bag-lady who hung around the neighborhood, was named for the vodka and grapefruit drink-Salty Dog for which she had a preference. ?She nuzzled up close to Mandy.

?Not now Mary, I?m busy,? Mandy dismissed the old lush with a wave of her hand.

?No drink Missy,? Mary had a distracting lisp, because of missing teeth, that made her speech almost impenetrable. ?Mandy understood her. ??Them?s guys is still hanging around in the alley. ?I thought you?d likes ta? know,? Mary slurred through her saliva webbed lips.

?Thanks, Mary,? Mandy said quickly pouring Mary about four fingers of vodka in a glass. ?

Marko grabbed the High Standard once again and moved past Mandy at a half-trot. ?He approached the back kitchen door cautiously. ?Mandy was quickly at his side, Mac 10 in hand.

Mandy and Marko moved silently as one. ?Nods and silent gestures communicated their tactics. ?As Mandy pressed her body against the fog-wet, clammy brick walls of the Cantina, Marko darted across the alley. ?They now had the advantage of positions of withering cross-fire. ?The both of them moved with the stealth of alley cats.

Mandy held the MAC 10 horizontally in her left hand so that the ejected shells would fall away, not in her line of vision. She was following tactics taught her by Bandit, but she had never used them in action before. ?Darting her head around the side of a packing crate, she was able to spot the two black-clad bikers. ?The flash of her movements was caught by one of the two bikers. ?The both of them, alarmed moved into combat position.

Marko moved from his position to get a better angle. ?The two men turned in unison, like a joined machine. ?They raised their weapons, one aiming in the direction of Marko?s movement. ?As Mandy sought to catch another glimpse of the two distracted men, the other swung his weapons in Mandy?s direction. The explosive noise of the rapid fire was amplified by the walls of the alley. The crate that hid Mandy was peppered. ?A couple of pellets blasted through the wooden crate, zinging around Mandy?s body. She had trained for such an occurance, but the real thing rattled her bones.

As Mandy flinched from the first blast, Marko immediately returned fire. He rounded the corner from his position and leveled the riot shotgun, then he heard two cracks. Obviously an automatic handgun. In most normal combat situations,the first ring of fire so rattles even the most seasoned warrior, that there is usually confusion and chaos. ?There was no chaos for any of these combatants. The biker on the ground continued to fire. ?The standing biker fired once more then dropped to one knee.

One of the pellets creased Marko?s scalp, sending a shower of blood over his forehead. The kneeling biker in black watched a pool of blood form at his feet. He cried out and his firing brother turned. Just then there was another crack and the shotgun burst from the assailants fingertips and dropped to the pavement. The terrorist looking biker looked around half terrified, grabbed his partner and helped him to one of the high-powered dirt bikes. They sped off without looking back.

Mandy ran to Marko. ??You?re hit!? ?Marko touched his forehead then looked at his hand. He looked at Mandy’s weapon. There was no sign it had been fired. ?

?Scalp wounds always bleed a lot. ?I don?t think it?s bad.? ? He held his head as they moved quickly to the kitchen door.

?This is not good,? Marko kept muttering. ??Bandit is going to have to be involved in this one.? ?Okay, okay, just let me take care of this wound. ?Then we?ll talk to Bandit.

Just then Bandit entered the back door, ?I smell cordite. ?You party animals. I’m going for a ride, be back shortly. Mandy, have Nyla take a look at that wound. You’ll get a purple heart for this one,” Bandit said slapping Marko on the back, then disappearing up the alley to the Cantina Garage.

The two black-clad and helmeted bikers stood at the entrance of the bar, obvious to the bar?s clientele. An uncomfortable hush fell over the Cantina like a dense fog over the San Pedro Harbor. ?

Mandy pulled the slider back on the MAC 10 then laid it on the bar, aimed at the two men. ?Marko held the riot gun at his side. ?There was no effort to conceal the weapons. ?Rather, Mandy and Marko?s posture indicated an ease and confidence with their weapons. ?And a willingness to use them. Nyla the bartender moved to the end of the bar as instructed in their drills. She lifted the reciever and poised one finger over the blinking red key. Her heart pounded thrusting her cleavage even farther over the edges of her blouse. ?

One of the men took a step forward, then was stopped by the other. For a heartbeat, the scene in the bar was frozen. Other bikes in the bar checked their weapon, but weren’t ready to make them known, and Marko was glad. He didn’t need a drunk or a hero to make a move unnessarily. ?As the two men scanned the bar searching for someone, big Moses stood in the back of the room and gradually pulled his leather jacket aside to reveal a stainless 4-inch barrel .357 mag. Then another rider independent of the first got to his feet gradually putting his hands on his hips revealing a small automatic in his waist band, then another rider stood until the room of men stood as one. All armed to the teeth. Apparently thinking the better of it, the two men turned in unison and left.

The bar soon resumed its normal chaotic buzz of boisterous conversation and juke box music. ?A few continued to watch Mandy, looking for a clue as to what had just transpired. ?Even Marko was a bit confused. Marko turned to Mandy. ?What the hell was that?? ?Marko, who had been familiar with weapons combat, usually liked to know the situation before charging in. ?This situation was sudden and he was unsure as to what just happened.

Mandy first looked at the crowd to make sure everybody was back to normal. ?She then turned to Marko. ??I spotted them in the back alley. ?From their demeanor and weapons, I recognized a professional hit. ?I think those guys are from an Asian gang that has been trying to gain a foothold in the harbor. ?It?s one of those family things, Tongs I think you might call them.?

?That?s old-time organized crime.? ?Marko was familiar with the more violent aspects of Asian culture, having studied various martial arts since he was a child. There were many up-start young Chinese gangs that never lasted long. ?They were usually absorbed by established older, more organized groups with connections to Mainland China. ?Contrary to all the Kung-Fu movies, these Tong clans worked behind the scenes, preferring to use coercion and intimidation rather than outright violence.

The history of Tong clans goes back to the time of the first Chinese immigrants who built the railroads in much of the west coast of America. ?Even though the surface culture of most Chinese-Americans reflected all the modern changes that effected the culture at large, the Tong factor was deep within the character of family structure. ?This was less-like the image of the Italian Mafia, and more like a stern uncle who demanded respect.

?Mandy, if it is what you say, it can be a serious problem for us. ?We need to contact Bandit.?

?I did that first thing,? Mandy said searching Marko?s face for a clue to his apparent concern.

?This isn?t a gang like we?re used to or a group of pissed off longshoremen. This can get really complicated.?

As they talked, Salty Mary sidled up to the end of the bar. ?Salty Mary, a local bag-lady who hung around the neighborhood, was named for the vodka and grapefruit drink-Salty Dog for which she had a preference. ?She nuzzled up close to Mandy.

?Not now Mary, I?m busy,? Mandy dismissed the old lush with a wave of her hand.

?No drink Missy,? Mary had a distracting lisp, because of missing teeth, that made her speech almost impenetrable. ?Mandy understood her. ??Them?s guys is still hanging around in the alley. ?I thought you?d likes ta? know,? Mary slurred through her saliva webbed lips.

?Thanks, Mary,? Mandy said quickly pouring Mary about four fingers of vodka in a glass. ?

Marko grabbed the High Standard once again and moved past Mandy at a half-trot. ?He approached the back kitchen door cautiously. ?Mandy was quickly at his side, Mac 10 in hand.

Mandy and Marko moved silently as one. ?Nods and silent gestures communicated their tactics. ?As Mandy pressed her body against the fog-wet, clammy brick walls of the Cantina, Marko darted across the alley. ?They now had the advantage of positions of withering cross-fire. ?The both of them moved with the stealth of alley cats.

Mandy held the MAC 10 horizontally in her left hand so that the ejected shells would fall away, not in her line of vision. She was following tactics taught her by Bandit, but she had never used them in action before. ?Darting her head around the side of a packing crate, she was able to spot the two black-clad bikers. ?The flash of her movements was caught by one of the two bikers. ?The both of them, alarmed moved into combat position.

Marko moved from his position to get a better angle. ?The two men turned in unison, like a joined machine. ?They raised their weapons, one aiming in the direction of Marko?s movement. ?As Mandy sought to catch another glimpse of the two distracted men, the other swung his weapons in Mandy?s direction. The explosive noise of the rapid fire was amplified by the walls of the alley. The crate that hid Mandy was peppered. ?A couple of pellets blasted through the wooden crate, zinging around Mandy?s body. She had trained for such an occurance, but the real thing rattled her bones.

As Mandy flinched from the first blast, Marko immediately returned fire. He rounded the corner from his position and leveled the riot shotgun, then he heard two cracks. Obviously an automatic handgun. In most normal combat situations,the first ring of fire so rattles even the most seasoned warrior, that there is usually confusion and chaos. ?There was no chaos for any of these combatants. The biker on the ground continued to fire. ?The standing biker fired once more then dropped to one knee.

One of the pellets creased Marko?s scalp, sending a shower of blood over his forehead. The kneeling biker in black watched a pool of blood form at his feet. He cried out and his firing brother turned. Just then there was another crack and the shotgun burst from the assailants fingertips and dropped to the pavement. The terrorist looking biker looked around half terrified, grabbed his partner and helped him to one of the high-powered dirt bikes. They sped off without looking back.

Mandy ran to Marko. ??You?re hit!? ?Marko touched his forehead then looked at his hand. He looked at Mandy’s weapon. There was no sign it had been fired. ?

?Scalp wounds always bleed a lot. ?I don?t think it?s bad.? ? He held his head as they moved quickly to the kitchen door.

?This is not good,? Marko kept muttering. ??Bandit is going to have to be involved in this one.? ?Okay, okay, just let me take care of this wound. ?Then we?ll talk to Bandit.

Just then Bandit entered the back door, ?I smell cordite. ?You party animals. I’m going for a ride, be back shortly. Mandy, have Nyla take a look at that wound. You’ll get a purple heart for this one,” Bandit said slapping Marko on the back, then disappearing up the alley to the Cantina Garage.

Mandy pulled the slider back on the MAC 10 then laid it on the bar, aimed at the two men. ?Marco held the riot gun at his side. ?There was no effort to conceal the weapons. ?Rather, Mandy and Marco?s posture indicated an ease and confidence with their weapons. ?And a willingness to use them. Nyla the bartender moved to the end of the bar as instructed in their drills. She lifted the receiver and poised one finger over the blinking red key. Her heart pounded thrusting her cleavage even farther over the edges of her blouse. ?

?????????One of the men took a step forward, then was stopped by the other. For a heartbeat, the scene in the bar was frozen. Other bikes in the bar checked their weapon, but weren’t ready to make them known, and Marko was glad. He didn’t need a drunk or a hero to make a move unnecessarily. ?As the two men scanned the bar searching for someone another biker, big Moses stood in the back of the room and gradually pulled his leather jacked aside to reveal a stainless 4-inch barrel .357 mag. Then another rider independent of the first got to his feet gradually putting his hands on his hips revealing a small automatic in his waist band, then another rider stood until the room of men stood as one. All armed to the teeth. Apparently thinking the better of it, the two men turned in unison and left. ??

????????The bar soon resumed its normal chaotic buzz of boisterous conversation and juke box music. ?A few continued to watch Mandy, looking for a clue as to what had just transpired. ?Even Marco was a bit confused. Put the arsenal back in place, Marco turned to Mandy. ?What the hell was that?? ?Marco, who had been familiar with weapons combat, usually liked to know the situation before charging in. ?This situation was sudden and he was unsure as to what just happened.

??????????Mandy first looked at the crowd to make sure everybody was back to normal. ?She then turned to Marco. ??I spotted them in the back alley. ?From their demeanor and weapons, I recognized a professional hit. ?I think those guys are from a Chinese gang that has been trying to gain a foothold in the harbor. ?It?s one of those family things, Tongs I think you might call them.?

???????????That?s old-time organized crime.? ?Marco was familiar with the more violent aspects of Chinese culture, having studied various martial arts since he was a child. There were many up-start young Chinese gangs that never lasted long. ?They were usually absorbed by established older, more organized groups with connections to Mainland China. ?Contrary to all the kung-fu movies, these Tong clans worked behind the scenes, preferring to use coercion and intimidation rather than outright violence.

The history of Tong clans goes back to the time of the first Chinese immigrants who built the railroads in much of the west coast of America. ?Even though the surface culture of most Chinese-Americans reflected all the modern changes that effected the culture at large, the Tong factor was deep within the character of family structure. ?This was less-like the image of the Italian Mafia, and more like a stern uncle who demanded respect.

?Mandy, if it is what you say, it can be a serious problem for us. ?We need to contact Bandit.?

?I did that first thing,? Mandy said searching Marco?s face for a clue to his apparent concern.

?This isn?t a gang like we?re used to. ?They aren?t direct like a biker gang or a group of pissed off longshoremen. This can get really complicated.? As they talked, Salty Mary sidled up to the end of the bar. ?Salty Mary, a local bag-lady who hung around the neighborhood, was named for the vodka and grapefruit drink-Salty Dog for which she had a preference. ?She nuzzled up close to Mandy.

?Not now Mary, I?m busy,? Mandy dismissed the old lush with a wave of her hand.

?No drink Missy,? Mary had a distracting lisp, because of missing teeth, that made her speech almost impenetrable. ?Mandy understood her. ??Them?s guys is still hanging around in the alley. ?I thought you?d likes ta? know,? Mary slurred through her saliva webbed lips.

?Thanks, Mary,? Mandy said quickly pouring Mary about four fingers of vodka in a glass. ?

?Marco, quick,? she grabbed the Mac 10 again and moved past Marco at a half-trot. ?She approached the back kitchen door cautiously. ?Marco was quickly at her side, riot gun in hand.

Mandy and Marco moved silently as one. ?Nods and silent gestures communicated their tactics. ?As Mandy pressed her body against the fog-wet, clammy brick walls of the cantina, Marco darted across the alley. ?They now had the advantage of positions of withering cross-fire. ?The both of them moved with the stealth of a couple of alley cats.

Mandy held the MAC 10 horizontally in her left hand so that the ejected shells would fall away, not in her line of vision. ?Darting her head around the side of a packing crate, she was able to spot the two black-clad bikers. ?The flash of her movements was caught by one of the two bikers. ?The both of them, alarmed moved into combat position.

Marco moved from his position to get a better angle. ?The two men turned in unison, like a joined machine. ?They raised their weapons, one aiming in the direction of Marco?s movement. ?As Mandy sought to catch another glimpse of the two distracted men, the other swung his weapons in Mandy?s direction. The explosive noise of the rapid shotgun fire was amplified by the walls of the alley. The crate that hid Mandy was peppered with double ought buckshot pellets. ?A couple of pellets blasted through the wooden crate, zinging around Mandy?s body. She had trained for such an occurance, but the real thing rattled her bones.

As Mandy flinched from the first blast, Marco immediately attempted to return fire. He rounded the corner from his position and leveled the riot shotgun, then he heard two cracks. Obviously an automatic handgun. In most normal combat situations, the first ring of fire so rattles even the most seasoned warrior, that there is usually confusion and chaos. ?There was no chaos for any of these combatants. The biker on the ground continued to fire. ?The standing biker fired once more then dropped to one knee. One of the pellets creased Marco?s scalp, sending a shower of blood over his forehead. The kneeling biker in black watched a pool of blood form at his feet. He cried out and his firing brother turned. Just then there was another crack and the shotgun burst from the assailants fingertips and dropped to the pavement. The terrorist looking biker looked around half terrified, grabbed his partner and helped him to one of the high-powered dirt bikes. They sped off without looking back.

Mandy ran to Marco. ??You?re hit!? ?Marco touched his forehead then looked at his hand. He looked at Mandy’s weapon. There was no sign it had been fired. ?

?Scalp wounds always bleed a lot. ?I don?t think it?s bad.? ? He held his head as they moved quickly to the kitchen door. ?This is not good,? Marco kept muttering. ??Bandit is going to have to be involved in this one. ?We can?t take care of this on our own.? ?Okay, okay, just let me take care of this wound. ?Then we?ll talk to Bandit.

Just then Bandit opened the rear door dressed to ride, “I wish you guys would keep it down out here. I’ll be back shortly.” –Nuttboy