Cal Rogan Mysteries, Books 4, 5 & 6 (Box Set)

by Robert P. French

  “Did you arrest anyone?” I ask.

  “There was no one here to arrest.” Ho replies.

  Phil and I exchange glances. I wonder if he is thinking the same thing as me.

  “Where did you find Mr. Gutkowski?” Ho asks.

  “Through here,” I say. I lead them through the staff-only door and up the stairs. Ho looks in all the rooms and makes a cursory examination of the room in which Aleksander was held but gives no indication of his thoughts.

  We go back downstairs and I take the door through which the chef appeared on my last visit a few hours ago. It leads into a big kitchen. The kitchen is as bare as the bar. There is no sign of any pots and pans or other implements. It is, to all intents and purposes, abandoned, but the earlier smell of food lingers on.

  “Come and see this,” Ho says.

  He leads us back through the bar and into the room behind the second door with the star on it. The room is large, about ten metres on each side. It has a luxurious feel and it is lit by hundreds of tiny LED lights in the ceiling, twinkling above like stars. There is an expensive carpet on the floor but no other sign of furniture. Facing us is a stage. Along the back of the stage, at about shoulder height, are five loops of golden-coloured rope connected to the backdrop and above each rope is a large brightly-coloured star: red, yellow, green, blue and purple.

  I turn to Phil and Ho. “What do you think this room is used for?”

  “An auction,” Ho says. With a nod of his head he moves towards a door to the side of the room. We follow. This door has five small stars on it: red, yellow, green, blue and purple. It leads into another corridor, with five doors leading off it. On each door is a small golden hook. On each hook, hanging from a thin, golden chain, is a star: red, yellow, green, blue and purple. Ho throws open one of the doors, inviting us to step inside.

  It’s a bedroom with a subtle and delicate smell. It is immaculate, to a hotel-like standard. There’s an expensive-looking chair, some sort of wooden stool, partway in height between a chair and a barstool. On one wall there are four chain restraints strategically placed for hands and feet. The bed’s a four-poster with creamy-white, silk sheets. Each of the posts has a light-tan, leather restraint attached. On a low cabinet at the foot on the bed, is a large pair of tailor’s scissors and small array of leather instruments. I recognize a whip, a riding crop, a blindfold and what might be a gag but have no idea what the others are used for.

  I am seized by an overwhelming desire to throw up.

  “It was deserted when we got here,” Ho says. As his men file out of the building, the vendors are starting to put up their stalls for the market’s start of business at two.

  “Who owns the building?” Phil Jiang asks him.

  He shrugs. “It’s owned by a company on the mainland.”

  “Who’s behind the company?” I ask.

  He gives a crooked smile. “The Hong Kong police don’t have access to the records of companies in mainland China, Mr. Rogan.”

  “Can’t you phone a colleague over there?” I ask but he just shrugs, a resigned look on his face. I can feel my anger stirring. Is he telling me the truth or is he just too lazy to do anything? I try another tack. “Four hours ago, the place was full of people. Someone must have seen them leave. They must have used vehicles to transport the girls and the things they took with them. Someone must have seen something.”

  “Mr. Rogan, this was obviously operated by a triad from the mainland. Trust me, no one who saw anything is going to talk to the police. They know there are dire consequences for themselves and their families if they do.”

  “But what about Zelena Gutkowska? She was in there. People were bidding to take her into one of those torture chambers disguised as bedrooms. You have to do something.”

  He looks long and hard at me. “If you hadn’t acted like a cowboy and gone in there to rescue her brother, they would all still be in there. My men could have arrested them all and saved the girl.”

  It all explodes out of me. “You refused to raid this place when I came to see you this morning. It wasn’t until I came back with Aleksander that you bothered to get off your fat ass and put together a team to take this place.” I’m shouting now. “And it took you almost four hours to do that. Four hours in which the gang were able to clear out of the place and take Zelena with them and probably a bunch of other girls too.”

  When I stop for breath, I feel Phil Jiang’s hand on my arm. “Steady Cal,” he says. He turns to Ho. “Mr. Rogan is understandably upset Inspector. I’m sure you understand his outburst,” he says quietly.

  Without a word, Ho looks at Phil then at me, turns, and walks to his police car. He gets in and drives off.

  My anger deflates with a long sigh. “No wonder he’s still an Inspector, he’s too incompetent to go any further.”

  “Maybe not,” Phil says. “Didn’t you say you thought someone shouted your name as you were leaving?”

  “Yeah, but…”

  Then it hits me.

  “You think Ho warned them I knew about this place and that I might come here?” I ask.

  “He wouldn’t be the first. Two years ago, five Hong Kong officers were arrested for taking bribes in exchange for protecting gangsters from one of the local triads.”

  I answer with a single expletive.

  He nods.

  “So how do we go about finding Zelena?” I ask.

  “Ho’s right when he says people won’t talk to the police about the triads. But I have a couple of people who work for me from time to time. They’re tuned in to what’s happening on the streets. I can get them to make a few inquiries.”

  I think of Ghost and Tommy. “I’ve got a couple of guys like that back home,” I say with a smile. I check my new watch—the one I bought from the still-missing vendor—“It’s almost eleven o’clock at night in Vancouver. I’d better email my team and give them an update. Then I’d like to go check out Aleksander in the hospital. Maybe he has something that might help us track down his sister.”

  “Good idea,” he says. “I’ll talk to my guys and get them working on it. Then I’ve got to deal with a couple of other clients’ cases. Why don’t we get together at my office first thing in the morning?”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  He turns to go.

  “Phil,” I say. He stops and turns back. “Thanks for stopping me. I might have lost it and hit him.” He just nods and smiles. “And watch your back. Remember what happened to Henry Wang.”

  “You too,” he says as he heads off.

  Despite the setback in finding Zelena, I’m feeling confident that with Phil’s local knowledge and contacts, and my ability to communicate with Zelena via Instagram, we are going to find her. And maybe, just maybe, I’m going to find a way to expose a corrupt cop in the process.

  “Did you find her?” are the first words out of his mouth. I know he means Zelena, but being back here in the Kwong Wah Hospital reminds me of Tina. Is she as lost to me as Zelena is to him? I shake off the thought and look at Aleksander. He is sitting up in bed, looking a lot better than he did when I dragged him into the Mongkok police station earlier.

  I shake my head. “No, when I got back there with the police, the place was empty.”

  He bites his lip.

  “Don’t worry,” I tell him with a confidence I only partly feel. “We’ll find her. Through the credit-card payment you made to Jiang and Lee, I was able to track down Phil Jiang and he’s working with me. He has some people making inquiries.ˮ

  “There was another detective,” he interrupts. “Henry Wang. You need to talk to him.”

  “I know. I found Mr. Wang.ˮ

  “That’s great! What did he tell you?”

  There is a real hope in his voice. I hate to have to be the one to shatter it. “I found him in his office. He was dead. Murdered.”

  The shock on his face is palpable. “But he…ˮ He shakes his head. “How did you…?ˮ A tear starts to form in his eye.

&n
bsp; “Why don’t you tell me everything that happened after you got to Hong Kong,” I say as gently as I can.

  After a moment he nods.

  “When I got into Hong Kong on the Wednesday afternoon, I checked into the Hilton—my father’s company has a corporate rate there—but I immediately took a taxi to the Kerry. I talked to the staff and discovered that Zelena and Steph had been staying there with two men. I was really shocked, I knew I couldn’t tell my parents. They thought Zelena was… well, you know.”

  “A virgin?” I supply the word he seems scared to use.

  He nods. “I went back to the Hilton and the next morning, I went to the police and met with Inspector Ho. He didn’t seem in the least interested in trying to find Zelena. So I went back to the Hilton and talked to their head of security. He gave me the name of a private detective Mr. Wang. At first, I was a bit unsure of him. He wanted to be paid in cash and his office was a bit old-fashioned but I went ahead and paid his retainer because of the recommendation I’d got. I preferred Mr. Jiang, he seemed more professional and, although his partner Mr. Lee was a bit odd, I thought he had a better chance of finding my sister.” I nod, thinking about my drive with Mr. Lee to the IF nightclub. 'A bit odd’ is putting it mildly.

  He continues, “I gave all the details to both detectives and waited for them to conduct their initial inquiries. To my surprise, Mr. Wang got back to me first, on the Friday evening. He told me Zelena had last been seen at a nightclub that was owned by one of the local triads. He said they were known for kidnapping girls and forcing them into prostitution. He said he would have good evidence of where she was being held and would I meet him the following morning so we could go to the police station together. I agreed of course, but the next morning early there was a knock on my room door. It was a uniformed policeman. He said they’d found my sister and he was there to take me to the hospital to see her but when I got into the police car, he and another officer put a cloth over my face and the next thing I knew, I woke up in the room you found me in.”

  “Did you see Zelena at all?” I ask.

  “No. They just kept me there and fed me twice a day. Twice, a couple of men came in and both times they beat me up and took video of it. The second time they held a knife to my throat in front of the camera. When you broke in and rescued me, I’d been there about eight or nine days.”

  “The nightclub, which Mr. Wang said Zelena was seen in, was it called either IF or the Golden Dragon?”

  He thinks for a bit then says, “I don’t think he mentioned the name.”

  “The place you were held was one-oh-five Temple Street. Did Mr. Wang say if Zelena was being held there too?”

  “No.”

  “When the police officer showed up at your hotel door, did you mention Mr. Wang to him?”

  “Yes, I did. I asked him if Mr. Wang had sent him. He said 'Who?’ and I said, 'Henry Wang, the private detective.’ He shook his head and asked if I’d hurry up and get dressed. Why do you ask?”

  “Just wondered,” I lie.

  But he’s too smart for me. His face goes white. “Do you think those phony cops killed Mr. Wang because I told them his name?”

  “No,” I lie again to save his feelings of guilt. “And I don’t think those cops were phony either.”

  “What?!” His eyes are like saucers.

  I think over his story. “You said that men came twice to beat you up and that they took videos both times.” He nods. “Did they say why they were taking the videos?”

  “No. But I thought about it. I think they probably showed them to Zel and maybe told her they were going to kill me if she didn’t do as they asked her.”

  Smart kid. I suspect he’s right.

  “Did the doctors here say when you can leave?” I ask.

  “Yes. When those guys beat me up, one of them punched me in the kidneys. The doctors are just waiting for some tests to come back and if they are OK, they’ll discharge me right away.”

  “Good,” I say. “As soon as you get out of here, take a taxi to the Hilton, grab your things and get the next plane back to Vancouver.”

  “No. I want to help you find my sister.”

  “Just leave that to Phil Jiang and me. We’ll get her back, I promise. Your parents need you back safely in Vancouver.”

  “That’s what they said when I called them and told them I was safe.”

  “Then that’s what you need to do. We’ll have Zelena back to you in no time at all.”

  The thought flits through my mind that Janusz Gutkowski told me he was only prepared to pay for the return of his son, not his daughter.

  But if he thinks I’m going to stop now, he’s crazy.

  Harvey Lim hasn’t got back to us about setting up a meeting with Leo. So I’m doing the next best thing. Stakeouts can be a real pain but I’m enjoying this one. I’m sitting at a table, on the sidewalk outside a restaurant, with a good view of the entrance to the Golden Dragon. It’s right on the corner of the first intersection east of the club. If I turn my head forty-five degrees, I have a perfect view of the entrance to the alley that runs behind the Dragon. With the building on Temple Street abandoned, Zelena will be held captive somewhere else and my one shot at finding her is to follow Leo. So I’ve been sitting here for over an hour nibbling dim sum and people watching.

  The other good thing about this stakeout is that it has given me some thinking time. If the gang were using Aleksander as a lever to get Zelena to do what they want, she now knows that lever is gone. I only hope the Instagram post I just did is not obvious to whomever is supervising her posts.

  Knowing Inspector Ho is working for the triad answers a lot of questions. It’s why Aleksander was kidnapped. When Ho found out about his other private detective, Mr. Wang got killed for his trouble. It also explains how the gang knew my name; Ho must have warned them about me.

  I glance to my right. Two men are walking out of the alley. One of them is almost certainly Leo. He is the right height and build but the fedora is the giveaway. It’s the same one he wore in the very first picture Zelena posted on Instagram. The man walking with him looks vaguely familiar but I can’t see him clearly in the street lighting. He has a severe limp, which makes him walk with a strange, rolling gait. They are alone. There is no sign of either of the bouncers from the club. They head down the opposite side of the street in the direction of Nathan Road. With a twinge of regret at leaving the dim sum, I get up from the table and follow them. At Nathan, they separate. The man with the limp crosses the street and Leo does a left turn. I hurry to the corner and peek around. Leo is walking quickly now and is about a hundred meters ahead of me. I follow him for a couple of blocks until he turns into what looks like another alley. I hurry ahead. Above the point where he turned in, there’s a sign with a picture of a smiling Buddha. It’s a temple. What a brilliant place to hide a captive. I turn left and am in a courtyard. Two meters ahead, facing me, with a smile on his face, is Leo.

  Except it’s not.

  It’s one of the bouncers from the club wearing Leo’s hat. “Hello, Mr. Rogan,” he says. I take a step towards him and as I do, he glances over my shoulder.

  I’ve been played.

  I start to turn and my world explodes in bright white light.

  28

  Zelena

  Everything was different today. This morning, while we were in the kitchen eating, the cook and the old woman were packing things into boxes and then there was a huge commotion and the chef ran out. There was all sorts of shouting and the next thing we know, we were all pushed into one of the vans and driven here. There was no auction and no men living out their foul fantasies on us. We are all in different rooms but they are nice rooms, with soft beds and good, clean linen. The rooms are not even locked but they told us there was a guard outside and we would be punished if we opened our doors.

  Best of all, my room has a small bathroom with a shower. I hated using the communal washroom in the other place. This is my third shower of the day. I
can’t get over the luxury of having a shower in private without there being four other girls and a guard leering at us. I will never take a simple shower for granted ever again.

  This has been the best day since they first took me.

  The last of the suds ran down the drain five minutes ago. Regretfully, I turn off the water and slide back the shower curtain.

  He’s standing there.

  Looking at me with that dead look in his eyes.

  I grab a towel which is barely big enough to cover me.

  I want to scream at him. Tell him he’s a filthy pervert. But I can’t. The last time I lost it with him, he beat Zander badly and showed me the video.

  “Leo.” I force a smile onto my face. “You startled me.”

  He says nothing. Just waggles the phone at me.

  He stands there looking as I try to dry myself. When I wrap the skimpy towel around me, he walks into the bedroom and sits on the bed. I follow. He hands me the phone.

  I don’t want to sit beside him, so I clamp my arms down to stop the towel from slipping down and tap on the phone. I go into Instagram and check my feed. Yes! There’s a post from Matt Standing. Huh? There’s a picture of the old guy from Jeopardy. My parents love that show. The post says, 'He’s safe at home now.’ He’s had cancer. Does that mean he’s dead? Why would whoever is…? Wait a minute! His name’s Alex. Alex Trebek. Does this mean Aleksander is safe at home now? I can feel my heart racing. Are they telling me Zander is safe? Maybe that’s what all the noise was about.

  “Post pictures. Answer texts,” Leo grunts.

  I do as he says, trying to keep the excitement off my face. I need to tell them I’m not at the same place. I reply to Matt’s post, 'I’m really moved.’ They’ll get it, whoever they are.