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late. Harry Wong was a pain in his ass.
    The love-hate relationship between Harry and Jack boiled up, as it always did.
    “I hope you’re going to tell me you have a raging case of shingles and a huge boil on your ass, and that’s why you’re late.”
    “Sorry, my little buttered muffin, but the only thing I can complain about this morning is a hangnail. Listen, something has come up. Let’s have some of that shitty green tea you think has miraculous powers, and I’ll tell you all about it.” Sensing a smart-ass comeback, Jack said, “Yoko said to tell you she loves you.” Any time Jack wanted to bring Harry to his knees, he would throw Yoko into the mix. Yoko was the only person who could put the fear of God into one Harry Wong. Jack delighted in seeing his best friend in the whole world crumble at his feet.
    “Eat shit, Jack. And I’m not afraid of Yoko. I love her,” Harry blustered weakly.
    “Tsk-tsk,” Jack said, clucking his tongue. “Listen up, and don’t say a damn word until I’m finished. Your reward at the end will be me telling you we’re going to head for the mountain tomorrow afternoon. You ready, you miserable excuse for a human being?”
    When Jack finished regaling the martial arts expert, Harry looked at him like he was crazy. “Tell me you’re jerking my chain! Please, Jack.”
    “Nah, it’s for real. I tried protesting, but the two of them,” he said, referring to Lizzie and Maggie, “damn near castrated me right there in the kitchen. The knife block was close to Maggie. My blood ran cold, I can tell you that,” Jack said dramatically.
    Harry was so into blood and guts and dismemberment, especially when he thought it could be Jack’s, that he actually looked mellow at the moment.
    “You know the girls are going to be on this like white on rice.”
    “Yeah, I know,” Harry mumbled. He slurped from his tiny cup of green tea as he waited for whatever else was going to tumble from Jack’s lips.
    “There’s no plan. As yet,” Jack added hastily.
    “No plan!” Harry screeched.
    “Easy, Harry. I’m not even sure the girls know about it yet. Lizzie is calling them. We’re going up tomorrow so that means we’ll be there to uh…uh…help with the plan. Read my lips, Harry. We-will-have-a-plan! ”
    “That’s what you said the last time, Jack,” Harry said ominously. “Your cockamamie plan was a truckload of pumpkins.”
    “It worked, didn’t it?”
    “Just shut the hell up, Jack. I need to think about this. I hate guys who can only get it by paying for it,” Harry muttered as he paced. That is, Harry thought he was pacing, but he was actually stomping around in his bare feet, powerful feet that could kill a man with one little kick, one big toe placed in the wrong place. Harry was a killer. Jack was glad his “archenemy” was one of the good guys.
    “You done thinking yet?” Jack demanded a minute later. In the blink of an eye he was on the floor, looking up at his wiry friend.
    “Yeah. Serves you right. You know better than to talk to me when I’m thinking.” Harry reached down for Jack’s hand to pull him to his feet. And then Harry was on the floor, with Jack straddling his chest. “Say it!”
    “Up yours! You’re a wuss, Emery!”
    They went at it for a good fifteen minutes until both men collapsed, with no real winner. Huffing and puffing, both of them got to their feet, their eyes wary until Jack roared, “Enough! That was my workout for the day.”
    Harry extended his hand. “Pretty good, Emery. In ten years, you might be almost as good as I am.”
    “My ass. It was a draw. You want to drive tomorrow or should I?”
    “We’ll make better time on my cycle. Your call.”
    “Whatever gets us there the quickest,” Jack said.
    “Then it’s the Ducati,” Harry said, all smiles and sunshine.
    “You are a piece of work, Harry Wong.”
    “You know, Jack, you are absolutely right. I am. And you are one damn lucky son of a bitch to have me as a