A Series of Twists and Turns

Old Joe led the two of them away from the streets near the Church and turned down a back alley.

The asphalt here had cracked, and withered weeds grew in the gaps. Most of the row houses on either side were boarded up, their boards spray-painted with colorful graffiti... These were all gang markings.

Every new piece of graffiti represented a gang, and every mark that had been painted over meant the gang it represented had been driven out of the area.

[I recognize that symbol. There's a gang like that where I am in the United States.]

[They're called the Crips.]

[They're one of the biggest street gangs in the United States. They got driven out here in Jamaica?]

[Being the biggest gang doesn't make them invincible. Besides, the Crips are very loosely organized. They don't have a gang leader; all the different leaders are equals. Sometimes they even fight among themselves over money and territory.]

Lin An watched the Bullet Screen, then turned to look at the markings.

Darnell noticed Lin An's movement and looked at the markings, too.

"It's fine, bro. There really aren't any gang members around here. These pieces of graffiti mark the borders and show where each gang's territory is. Unless something unusual happens, the gang members don't come here.

"They're busy fighting over convenience stores and drug routes over there. Who would come to a dump like this, where even the birds don't shit?

"Only Jamaica's bravest man, someone like me, would dare come here with you."

As he spoke, he was the first to pick up the pace and walk ahead.

"This way."

Old Joe, who had been walking in front, sped up as well, following Darnell's lead.

The farther they went, the more familiar the place they were headed for seemed to Darnell.

"Old Joe, is the place you mentioned that bankrupt furniture factory?"

"Yeah, that's the one."

Old Joe nodded.

The three of them walked for about another ten minutes. The buildings around them grew more and more dilapidated. The streetlights on either side of the road leaned crookedly, their bulbs long dead and their glass covers shattered, with shards still hanging from the fixtures.

An abandoned gas station stood alone at the intersection. The pumps were covered in rust, their plastic handles snapped off, and their hoses drooped to the ground like dead snakes.

"We're almost there."

Old Joe pointed ahead.

A building stood at the end of the street.

It was a two-story brick factory. The side facing the street was one solid wall of red brick. Most of the white paint had peeled away, revealing the mottled bricks beneath.

Every window on the second floor was boarded up with plywood. Some of the boards had been pried open, leaving dark, gaping holes.

The factory's entrance consisted of two metal roll-up doors, both shut and covered in layers of graffiti. The markings at the bottom were so obscured that no one could tell what they had been.

Several rusty metal letters hung crookedly on the second-floor exterior wall. They looked ready to fall, swaying whenever the wind blew.

"This is it."

Old Joe stood at the entrance, gazing up at the letters with a dazed look in his eyes.

Darnell looked up as well, muttering to himself.

"My stepdad said the owner was a good man. He never fell behind on wages..."

"Yeah, he was a good man. That's why he killed himself."

Old Joe's voice was pained.

"Last summer, the factory didn't get a single order. The bank was demanding loan payments, the suppliers were demanding payment. He gave the rest of his money to the workers, then locked himself in his office..."

He didn't continue. Lowering his head, he changed the subject.

"Let's go around back. The door's over there."

He led the two of them around to a narrow alley along the side of the factory.

The alley was so narrow that there was barely enough room for an adult to squeeze through sideways.

It was filthy. Broken glass and rusty cans littered the ground, and the air reeked of urine, mixed with the smell of moldy cardboard and rotting food scraps.

Darnell and Old Joe acted as if they didn't notice, but Lin An, walking behind them, was disgusted. He almost threw up.

After struggling to follow them to the end of the alley, he watched Old Joe crouch behind a pile of discarded boards and cardboard boxes.

"Here it is."

He shoved the junk aside, revealing an iron door.

It was small, about half the width of a normal door, and painted nearly the same shade of gray as the wall. It would have been almost impossible to spot if you weren't looking closely. A length of rusty wire wrapped around the handle served as a "lock."

Old Joe deftly unwound the wire and pushed the iron door open. The hinges let out a sharp creak, like someone screaming.

Beyond the door was a flight of concrete steps leading down, with a faint yellow light at the bottom.

"Watch the stairs. The third step is missing a corner."

Old Joe warned them, then went down first.

Lin An followed, one hand against the cold, damp wall.

The stairs were so narrow that his shoulders nearly brushed both walls. A slimy layer of moss coated the surface, cold and wet to the touch.

Darnell brought up the rear, muttering as he descended.

"This place is way too narrow. Good thing I'm in shape. A fat guy would get stuck in the doorway for sure. I saw a fat guy at the Church last time, even fatter than Williams, who you saw earlier..."

What a good hiding place. It was out of the way, damp, and soundproof. They could hide people here, or something illegal, and run some kind of operation without outsiders ever finding out.

There were fifteen steps in total. Lin An counted them, which meant the basement of the abandoned factory was between three and a half and four meters underground.

A basement this deep could block out minor noises from the surface. With a few upgrades, such as installing KTV-grade soundproofing, they could throw a party down here without anyone noticing.

At the bottom of the stairs, the basement opened up into a spacious room.

It was about two hundred square meters, with a high ceiling crisscrossed by exposed pipes and wires.

A single lightbulb hung in the center of the room, giving off a dim yellow glow that couldn't reach the corners. Those areas were filled with deep darkness.

The faint smell of wood and machine oil lingered in the room.

A simple bed stood against one wall. A few planks rested on empty paint buckets, with cardboard and a dirty blanket spread over them.

Some unfinished furniture was piled in the corner: a chair missing a leg, an unfinished tabletop, stacks of wood offcuts, and a metal rack holding a few rusty tools... saws, planes, chisels, all covered in dust.

[This is a good place. It'd be a waste to use it just for living. We could set up some basic machine tools and start production here.]

[Production of what?]

[Production of certain... heh heh heh, you know what.]

[Most importantly, it's well hidden. I had a look: the front entrance has been sealed off by the bank. The only way in is through the alley and the iron door that Old Ni Ge showed us.]

"This used to be the woodworking shop."

Old Joe walked over to the corner, picked up a hammer with its handle missing, and held it in his hand. His fingers slowly stroked the wooden shaft.

"When the owner was still alive, this place was bustling every day..."

He paused, put the hammer back, and lowered his voice.

"Eight years. On the day I finished my apprenticeship, the owner treated me to half a bottle of whiskey. He said I was more talented than any carpenter he'd ever met. He said I could become a master craftsman and open my own factory one day..."

He didn't go on.

Unusually, Darnell didn't crack a joke. He stood nearby, looking at the dusty tools, his expression unexpectedly quiet.

Lin An walked around the basement.

He checked the walls. They were made of brick and stone, without a single crack, and were sturdy. The ceiling was reinforced concrete, with pipes and wires overhead, and no obvious damage.

As for ventilation, there was a small window at the far end of the room, level with the ground. He could see the gray daylight outside. It wasn't large, but it would do.

He walked to the farthest end of the room and found a round duct about half a meter in diameter, covered by a sheet of metal.

He lifted the metal sheet and peered inside. The duct was pitch-black, and a cold breeze blew out of it, carrying the smell of earth and dampness.

"Where does this lead?"

He asked Old Joe.

Old Joe came over to take a look.

"It used to carry sawdust. It leads to the back of the building next door. It's not very big, but a person can crawl through."

[Damn, we've got a hidden escape route. If the cops raid the place, people can get out through here.]

Lin An nodded, put the metal sheet back, and returned to the center of the room.

"This is a good place."

He said.

Old Joe froze for a moment, then realized Lin An was commenting on the place. His face immediately broke into a smile.

"Sir, you think it'll work? We can fit a lot of people here. I'll tidy things up and clear out those boards. We can set up a few more beds, no problem. The faucet's over there..."

He pointed to a sink in the corner of the room.

"It's only cold water, but it'll do. As for electricity, I ran a wire over from the building next door. Someone there's stealing power, so I get to benefit, too."

"Good."

Lin An sat down on the wooden bed against the wall.

"Old Joe, sit down. Let's talk."

Old Joe quickly sat beside him, his back ramrod straight. Darnell came over, plopped down on the floor between them, and looked up.

"What I want to do is simple."

Lin An began.

"I need a team to take day jobs: cleaning, clearing trash, hauling things. The kind of work respectable white people don't want to do and Black people won't do because the pay's too low."

Old Joe listened intently.

"I don't have any money to pay wages right now."

Lin An was blunt.

[No, you do have money.]

[Where's the streamer supposed to get money?]

[The supplies we tip him with aren't money?]

"But I can provide food and clean clothes. Once I get my first job and get paid, I'll start paying everyone."

Darnell cut in, his tone impatient, as if Lin An just wasn't getting it.

"Bro, you're way too honest. How can you just say you don't have any money? You've got to brag. Tell them you're going to start a company, take it public, and make everyone a manager. That's what a boss is supposed to say!"

"I don't make things up."

Lin An glanced at Darnell.

"I'll tell the truth. If people are willing to accept that, they can come work for me. If not, they don't have to. I don't want to lie."

Old Joe was silent for a while, head bowed as he looked at his worn-out work boots.

"Mr. Lin, given my situation... I just need a job."

He raised his head. A pleading light shone in his cloudy eyes.

"Besides, I trust Darnell. This guy's got a foul mouth, but he never lies. If he says you're reliable, I believe him."

At those words, Darnell's face broke into a huge grin, and he puffed out his chest.

"You hear that? You hear that..."

"Okay, okay."

Lin An raised a hand to stop him from boasting.

"There's one more thing I want to do."

He swung the backpack off his back and pulled out a gray cotton tracksuit, unfolding it beneath the dim yellow light.

"This is a batch of surplus stock shipped from China. It's good quality. Nothing fancy, but comfortable and durable. I have a way to get clothes and everyday necessities like these in bulk, at very low prices."

Old Joe reached out and felt the fabric, rubbing the cotton between his fingers.

"This is good material. A pair of pants like these would sell for at least fifteen dollars at Walmart."

"My cost is less than three dollars."

Lin An laid the pants on the wooden bed.

"If I get other people to help me sell them, I'll give them a commission... one dollar for every pair they sell."

Darnell's eyes widened.

"Bro, you mean having homeless people work as salespeople? Isn't that a little crazy? Can they handle it? What if they take the clothes and run..."

Old Joe ignored Darnell. He stared down at the pants, silent for a long time.

"Mr. Lin, you mean... people like me would sell these things on the street? They can barely afford to eat. How would they have the strength to sell anything?"

"If they can't afford to eat, I'll feed them first, get them a bath, and give them a decent set of clothes."

Lin An said.

"Then I'll give them the merchandise and have them sell it."

Old Joe looked up.

"But... we don't have ID. A lot of people have even sold their driver's licenses. The police will arrest us if we sell things on the street."

"If they don't want to take that risk, I'll give them another option: cleaning work."

Lin An said.

"Either way, I won't let them go hungry."

Darnell opened his mouth as if to say something, but, for once, he didn't make a joke.

He looked at Lin An, then at Old Joe, and finally just scratched his head and muttered,

"Bro, when you say stuff like that, it makes me want to work for you, too... Wait, I already do work for you."

Lin An ignored him. He was about to continue when voices came from above their heads.

"...It's right here, the Queen Furniture Factory. It closed down last year. The bank took it over but never did anything with it. I've been looking for two months, and this is the best place I've found."

A man's voice filtered down through the basement ceiling, echoing in the empty room.

Old Joe looked confused. Darnell glanced at him, but the two of them were in perfect agreement not to make a sound.

The voice overhead came again, clearer this time, perhaps because the speaker had moved to a spot directly above the basement.

"...Those bastards in the Rainstorm Gang think this is all over? Dream on. I'm telling you, this area was ours in the first place..."

"Boss, what do we..."

"...Here."

"Gather the men. Three days..."

Old Joe understood those fragments in an instant, and his body began to tremble.

"...I checked. There's no one around here..."

"Great... We can stash the guns we brought here..."

By now, even the slow-witted Darnell had figured out who had arrived upstairs.

This was bad. They couldn't stay here anymore... Darnell instinctively turned to look at Lin An, but the spot where someone should have been standing was empty.

Old Joe realized something was wrong, too. He turned and looked toward where Lin An had been standing...

The space beside the wooden bed was empty.

Lin An was gone.

Darnell blinked, then blinked again.

Where was he?