Cally's War

Mary’s Diner was not the sort of place anyone would associate with the tongs or anything other than cheap meals for out-migrating colonists on a budget. They got all kinds at all hours. They had a break room for staff — unnecessary because the only staff were Mary and her husband. Mary was an incessant gossip — about everything that didn’t matter. She also made a mean cup of tea.

All of which was why James Stewart was sitting in her break room over a cup of tea, talking to the dai dai lo of the Black Dragons Tong.

“You know what you’re asking for is very expensive, don’t you?” The other man savored his tea. His host had excellent taste. He preferred to drink his imported oolong while it was hot. The room was pleasantly appointed, with a miniature fountain burbling and plashing gently along one side, and a branch of silk cherry blossoms in a crystal vase on the table. It was a good place to do business.

“Oh, come on. I know how this works. Where else are you going to make any profit at all on this? Don’t you think I’m worth it?” Stewart grinned.

“Perhaps. I won’t promise anything, but I’ll ask my grandfather,” he said.

“That’s all I ask. When do you think you can give me an answer?” The former gang leader turned general sipped his own tea.

“Tomorrow. I’ll know tomorrow,” he said.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow.” Stewart excused himself politely and left. He had a promotion to announce.