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
