"Wontons and Sushis"

Ollie's sister, Thea, watched as Roy hungrily wolfed down some dim sum at the Lucky Sparrow Restaurant in Chinatown. They had once been romantically involved, but they managed to remain friends. Thea had been involved in the party drug scene in high school – she was no stranger to that world - and she could understand Roy's journey from street hoodlum to street vigilante in ways that Ollie himself never could.

She deftly picked up a dumpling with chopsticks, while Roy struggled to eat a wonton without a fork.

Roy pushed his chopsticks aside. "One day I'll get the hang of using those things – just not today."

"I spent part of Grade 9 at an international academy in Hong Kong," Thea said. "Away from this city, my parents, Ollie …" Her mind wandered. "I was never more afraid to be alone back then, but I never felt more free either. I could just be me, you know. And not Thea Queen, the spoiled little socialite. Maybe that's why I love coming back to Chinatown."

"I keep forgetting you were born with a silver spoon," Roy said. "Heiress to the Queen fortune and all that."

Thea tossed a grain of rice at him. "Ollie may have been the black sheep, but I wasn't that much better. I just hid it better. But you didn't invite me to lunch to talk about my pampered and misspent high school years."

Roy nodded. He had grown closer to SAMCRO over the past two days, closer than he would have liked. He was a friend of the MC now, a confidant of Jax Teller. He was now burdened with the potentially deadly secret about Jax's plans to leave the MC for good and take his family away from Charming. As much as he wanted to tell Thea everything, he knew that giving Thea such knowledge would place her in danger. He explained to her that he had become a friend of the MC and that he had become more than an acquaintance of Jax.

He had become his friend. This was already a dangerous admission. Without giving any details, he alluded to helping SAMCRO on the night of Ollie's attack at the port.

"I don't like where this is going, Roy," Thea said.

"Ollie wanted me to keep tabs on SAMCRO," Roy said, "but now that I'm tight with their crew I might be able to learn more about their plans. Ollie is already checking the Irish connection, but we're still hazy about why that security guard was killed. The papers were suggesting that it was the Yakuza … some drug deal went sideways."

"And you figured the resident ex-junkie party girl might have an idea about how to find out," Thea said, "considering that my purse used to be a portable pharmacy back in the day."

"Something like that," Roy said.

Thea picked up her purse. "Well, pay the bill and let's go then!"

"Right now?"

"Yes, right now! We're going for a walk in Chinatown."

There had always been a Chinatown in Starling City, ever since the railway arrived in the 1880's. Above the gaudy signage and neon signs with Cantonese lettering, Roy could see what remained of the 19th-century buildings that housed the city's earliest Chinese immigrants.

Thea stopped at a fruit stand and pretended to sort through a pile of tangerines. "See that main street cutting through Chinatown?" she said, pointing at the road.

Roy stared down the road – lined with Chinese restaurants, retail shops, pharmacies and DVD vendors. "Yeah, what about it?"

"Everything from 9th Street to the edges of the Chocolate District is controlled by one gang: the Three Dragons Triad," Thea said. "Everyone pays them protection here."

"I thought the Dragons had to share this turf with the new Vietnamese crews and the Shanghai Boys," Roy said.

Thea shook her head. "The Three Dragons always called the shots, they're the biggest players in Chinatown. Always have been. Every single drug dealer I ever bought from was linked in some way to the Three Dragons. Nothing happens in Chinatown without the triad knowing about it."

"But what does that have to do with the killing at the port?" Roy asked. "The Russians run the port, SAMSTAR owns a couple of warehouses and runs protection rackets there."

"And who's their biggest customer at the port?" Thea said.

"The Chinese," Roy said.

"If things did go sideways when that guard was killed," Thea said, "it couldn't be the Yakuza that did it. There's no way the Three Dragons would allow them to stir things up at the port. The Dragons are the biggest heroin suppliers from here to San Diego. A killing like that draws heat. It's reckless and sloppy – it has to be a newer player."

"My guess is one of the Vietnamese or Shanghai crews," Roy said.

They had walked several blocks in Chinatown and were now approaching the Little Shanghai district. The more opulent restaurants of Old Chinatown gave way to sketchier take-out dives, massage parlours and pawn shops. This area of "new" Chinatown had gained notoriety due to a series of gang-related shootings and assaults this past winter, as the Vietnamese and Shanghai crews tested the limits of triad territory. The SCPD anti-gang task force was fast-tracked in response to this.

"We'd better turn around and head back to downtown," Thea said. A few blocks away, half a dozen Shanghai Boys ogled Thea and glared at Roy. This was their turf and they didn't like strangers.

"Yeah," Roy said warily. He flagged a cab and they hurriedly hopped into the back.

"You think the newer gangs muscling in on the Three Dragons' heroin trade had something to do with the port killing?"

"I'll bet you ten dollars that the h-trade was exactly the reason," Thea challenged.

Roy smirked as he watched the colourful signs and bright lights of Chinatown streak past them. "You're on, Thea Queen."


Jax took a drag from a cigarette outside Jim's Auto Works. Jim – the repair shop owner and SAMSTAR president – was working on the engine of an old Impala. The garage was filled with the smell of motor oil and the loud curses of its mechanics. Half of the employees were also full-patch SAMSTAR members.

Jax studied Jim. He had silvery, close-cropped hair and was built like a marathon runner. A confidant of John Teller, Jim had fought with John in Vietnam and survived battles by his side. There were even rumours that Jim had done secret black-ops missions in Laos. During the war, a Viet Cong sniper had killed their lieutenant. Jim had earned his sergeant's stripes earlier and took command of their platoon, which included John, Piney and Clay. He had led them to safety from behind enemy lines, a feat that guaranteed his spot as a SAMSTAR original patch back in '71. Clay was never close to Jim, but he also knew that he owed Jim his life. He was in Jim's debt – a fact that Clay always resented.

Jax stomped the cigarette butt into the ground and strolled into the garage.

"You can tell Roy that he can pick up the Harley parts by the end of the week," Jim said.

"Thanks," Jax said. "Listen, mind if I bounce some things off you?"

"Sure," Jim said. He noticed the V. PRESIDENT flash on Jax's cut. "Your old man would be proud of you."

Jax nodded. "Things have been dicey lately, with the shit at the port, the Russians, the sushis and the Arrow. I don't want to be stepping on toes here. It's your club, your call. We don't have to roll with the Yakuza if you don't want to."

Jim smiled. "I actually agree with your play at the port. Things are heating up … not just at the port but across the Glades. The old alliances – the guidos, the micks, the Soviets – might not be enough this time. Don Marco and Mr. Fong have kept things in the Glades from boiling over, but all that shit with the port killing and the Arrow stirring the pot is making them very, very nervous." Don Marco was the mafia kingpin of Starling City, while Mr. Fong was leader of the Three Dragons Triad.

"If things go south in the Glades, how do you think it'll land?" Jax said.

Jim sighed. "Not well for SAMSTAR. Guns have kept us in everyone's good graces, but if the Bratva want to get into the gun trade we won't be able to stop them. Our Russian buddies at the port won't turn on us, but they'll have to sit this out if the Bratva move into guns. We could probably count on the Irish – and that's it. The mafia and the triad are the biggest players - they can afford to stay neutral while we cut each other to shreds and pick up what's left. If things do jump off in the Glades – it'll likely be brown and yellow versus black and white. It would be the goddamn 1980's all over again."

"Jesus Christ," Jax cursed. "Halloran was saying the whole hood is spooked by the port killing. The locals counted on us to keep the Glades safe. With the Undertaking and Slade Wilson's shit-storm, they're losing confidence in the MC. The security guard who was killed – he lived in the Glades. His widow works at Glades Memorial. They're one of us … and people are sayin' we couldn't protect them."

"You think the Japs are making a play for the triad's h-trade?" Jim said. "Or maybe one of the newer slant gangbangers, expanding their territory?"

"That's why I'm meeting up with our sushi brothers later today – to iron shit out," Jax said. "And we need to set a meet with the Yamamoto family boss when he comes back from Japan. SAMSTAR won't have a chance if we can't get at least one of the yellow crews on-side. Or, at least keep them Swiss-neutral."

"I'll set a meet with Mr. Fong – soon," Jim said. "They already know SAMCRO's in town. If the Vice President of the MC's mother charter visits the city without meeting the head of the most powerful triad in the Pacific Northwest, they will see it as a sign of disrespect. If we can't get the Japs on board, then we will need Chinese support. We're dead in the water if both the sushis and the wontons turn against us."

The gravity of all the work they needed to do began to dawn on Jax. "Copy that. Hey, I'm all about cultural diversity and economic diversification." Jim embraced him and returned to the garage.

A Harley rumbled into the garage parking lot. Chibs hopped off his bike and embraced Jax.

"Hey Jackie boy," Chibs said. "Clay just called. He said Tig and Happy delivered the guns safe and sound. The guns are heading south, with Tacoma as escort. Juice should be here sometime tonight."

"I heard you ran into the city's new anti-gang task force commander," Jax said.

"Aye," Chibs said. "Lance was just slappin' his dick around. He knows we're here, but he'll be hands-off as long as we stay in the Glades. No cuts downtown – or he'll take them. I've let the boys know."

Jax sensed that Chibs was worried. "We've got a lot of work ahead of us this afternoon. We need to lock down our relationships with the Yakuza and the Three Dragons. If we can't keep them as partners, we need to ensure that we're out of their cross-hairs when things do turn to shit in the Glades."

"Then you won't like this news, Jackie," Chibs said.

He pulled out an article from the Starling City Record, with the headline: "Pub owner murdered, body left on church steps." Jax read the article and his blood boiled. It was a professional hit, with all the markings of a Real IRA slaying.

"Galen O'Shay arrived in Portland the day before last," Chibs said. "The hit was his doing, no doubt. He says he's here on Army business, but he's been dealing under the table in the Glades for years. He's one greedy bugger."

Jax crushed the article in his fist and tossed it on the ground. "He'll flood the market with his Catholic guns 'n bullets and set the whole Glades on fire! He doesn't give a shit about the MC or the people who live in this hood. He'll make a tidy profit from the war, while we bleed out on the streets. He doesn't like me, but he might still listen to you. We need to sort this out with Galen. You convince that Irish prick that this ain't Belfast. He can't settle personal beefs on the street like that – not with this Captain Lance watching our every move."

Jax strapped on his helmet and straddled his bike. "When you're done, you and Bobby meet me at The Smiling Geisha, it's in the Chocolate District. I need to sort shit out with our new samurai friends."

Chibs eyes lit up. "The Smiling Geisha?"

"I knew you'd like that," Jax said. "This sushi buffet is all-you-can-eat. I hope you're hungry."

Over the roar of his Harley, Jax could hear Chibs howling in delight.

Jax's bike zoomed towards the Chocolate District. With the wind in his hair and the drone of the Harley's engine in his ears, Jax considered the benefits and pitfalls of a SAMCRO-Yakuza alliance.

The best-case scenario would be a formal business partnership with the Yamamoto clan: a powerful and politically-connected ally if the Chinese were to turn against the MC in a Glades war. It would not only keep SAMSTAR whole – it could provide the MC with much-needed revenue and influence with the underworld's major players.

Jax shuddered at the worst-case scenario: a triad-versus-Yakuza war over the heroin trade. It would be a war that SAMSTAR could not sit out. The MC would have no choice but to back one side or the other, with no guarantee of surviving the fallout.

Black, brown and white crews would question their relationships with the MC, as they backed either Yamamoto or the Three Dragons out of fear or necessity. SAMSTAR could also lose leverage if either the Bratva or the Irish made side deals over the gun trade with the warring parties.

The mafia would wait out the war and make peace with the victor, while picking over the bones of the losers and carving up territories.

If SAMCRO backed the losing side, the blowback could scuttle the fragile peace in Oaktown and impact every Reaper charter from Washington to Arizona. No one would be safe then.

God help us all if we're on the wrong side of this, Jax thought.

To be continued ...