Abby: That day we searched the tong a curious man came up to my car.
Kang: What happened?
Abby: Reilly called before I could question him. He might know something.
Kang: What does he look like?
Abby: Short. Wore a gray, ivy cap. Lots of sunspots on his face.
Kang: Did he have a white cane?
Abby: Yeah.
Kang: I think I see your guy.
An old fellow fitting that description had just appeared from a residential building across the street from the tong and started walking in the opposite direction. Kang exited the vehicle and hurried to catch up with him. He must have sensed Kang’s approach, because the guy picked up his hobbling pace.
“Hold up. I want to talk to you. I’m Detective Kang with the San Francisco Police Department.” Kang flashed his identification to the old man, who still seemed intent on getting away. Kang reached out and gently but firmly grabbed him by the arm. “Please. I just have a few questions. You’re not in trouble.”
The residents of Chinatown had been leery of the police ever since the first waves of immigrants had settled in the city. They tended to solve their own problems within their community. It was partly what had given the Triads their tight grasp on the neighborhood. They were often the ones residents turned to when a dispute needed to be settled.
The old man stopped tugging his arm away. “I not do anything wrong,” he replied with an accent.
“I didn’t say you did. You live there?” Kang pointed to the building.
The old man nodded.
“What’s your name?”
“Liu Jie, but everyone call me Lester.”
Kang nodded approvingly. “All right, Lester, tell me: you ever see people come and go from the Hop Sing Tong?”
“I don’t know anything.”
“That’s not what I asked.” Kang flashed a friendly smile. “Come on. Help me out.”
The old man’s eyes shifted from side to side before he looked up and down the street. “I see someone come at night, but not get good look. Very dark.”
“Only at night? Never during the day?”
The old man nodded.
“What did this person look like?”
Lester shrugged.
“Old? Young? Did you see more than one person?”
“No, only one person. Not old like me. I only see once.”
“Anything else you can tell me about this person? Is he associated with the tong?”
Lester placed both hands on his cane, leaning forward a bit and looking past Kang toward the direction of the tong.
“It’s okay. No one is going to hurt you.”
Lester stole a few more glances before raising his arm and pointing at the lone window at the top of the tong.
“Did you see someone in that window?”
Lester nodded. “Use window to go inside.”
Chapter 25
Armed with the information from Lester, Kang didn’t bother to call Ethel and headed straight over to the CCBA. He was officially questioning her. If she knew the people who had taken over the tong, she had information he wanted.
The office hours were nine to five. Kang arrived at half past nine. He had opted for the ten-minute walk rather than trying his luck with parking on Stockton.
Once inside, Kang saw Grace, who had just sat down behind her desk. She had what looked to be a fresh mug of coffee in her hand.
“Fancy seeing you here this early,” she said. “Coffee?” She lifted her mug.
“I’m good. I had some earlier.”
“You’re in luck. She’s normally not in the office this early. She even got here before me.”
“Thanks.” Kang smiled and delivered a knuckle knock on Grace’s desk as he passed by. He hadn’t heard Ethel’s voice echoing in the short hall leading to her office. Unusual. Kang peered around the doorframe and leaned in. “Good morning.”
Ethel jumped in her chair. “Dammit, Kyle, you almost gave me a heart attack.”
“Sorry.” Kang shrugged. He took a seat in front of her desk. “Why are you here so early?”
“I should ask you the same.” Ethel closed the laptop she had open.
“I need to ask you a few questions.”
“Uh oh,” she said, peering over her reading glasses. “This sounds serious.”
“It is. It’s regarding a case I’m investigating.”
Ethel leaned back in her chair and folded her hands across her lap. “How can I help?”
“The Hop Sing Tong, you know who took over, and I need to ask them a few questions. Where can I find them?”
“Why? What’s happened?”
“Nothing’s happened. I have a few questions, but nobody ever seems to be around when I stop by.”
Ethel held up a finger while she picked up the receiver to the phone on her desk. She dialed, and after a few silent seconds of them staring at each other, she hung up. “No one’s answering, but I’ll make a few other calls. The person in charge there is Charles Yee. I’ve known him for a few years.”
Kang’s brow wrinkled. “Hmm, that name doesn’t ring a bell.” He removed a pen and a small notebook from his jacket and noted the name.
“He’s a transplant from New York. Came out here specifically to get the tong back in order.” Ethel leaned forward. “May I ask about the case?”
“I’m working on a joint investigation with the FBI. We’re chasing down a variety of angles. This is just one of them. Don’t worry; he’s not a suspect.” Kang smiled, but the truth was, he hadn’t ruled out the tong. After finding the missing teapot, it had him convinced that somehow the tong was still involved with the game. He just couldn’t quite prove it yet.
Ethel nodded. “I’ll get a hold of Charles for you. Don’t worry.”
Kang grasped both arms of the chair and pushed himself up. “Thanks, I appreciate it. The sooner the better.” He moved around the desk and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I owe you.”
“Sunday brunch—the Palace,” she called out as Kang exited her office.
Chapter 26
I hadn’t been out of the house since the night Team Favela had attacked me, so I changed into running gear and headed downstairs. I walked out onto the front porch where Copeland was sitting.
“Where’s your partner?” I asked as I sat next to him and put on my running shoes.
“He’s in the back. Where are you heading?”
“For a run.” I glanced up. “You’re more than welcome to join me.”
“I can’t let you do that.”
“You can’t stop me. By the way, aren’t you a bit bored sitting out here? Come on, go get changed.” I had no idea if he had anything suitable for running. Both had ditched the suits after the first day and were content with jeans and hoodies.
“What if someone’s waiting for you?”
“I’m a target sitting right here next to you just as much as I am on the road. I’m not going to hide.” I lifted the hoodie I used for running just enough to show Copeland the shoulder holster housing my Glock.
“You’ve got three minutes.” I stood up and started to stretch. “If you’re not back out here, you’ll have to find me.”
“Give me five.” Copeland hurried inside.
I strapped my mini iPod onto my left arm and stuck my earbuds in my ears. I scrolled to the playlist titled “Rock the Road,” hit play, and grinned as Ozzy screamed into my ears.
When Copeland returned, I gave him a few minutes to stretch, and then we hit the road. Boy, did it feel good.
Typical SF air: crisp, refreshing, and tingling in the nostrils. With the absence of clouds, the sun shone bright across the bay. I couldn’t have asked for better conditions. We ran west on my street, Pfeiffer, then north on Columbus. I opted for a shorter route that morning, one that was just under three miles. It would take us along the Embarcadero past the famed Fisherman’s Wharf and Pier 39 until Broadway and then back into North Beach—a good dose of flats and hil
ls to get the blood flowing and the endorphins firing.
I didn’t pay much attention to Copeland, only a few glances to see if he had kept up. He had his head on a permanent rotation of our surroundings. I saw Alcatraz as a gap between port buildings opened up and thought about the SF movie theme that my death should tie into. I wondered if studying the movies might give me any insight into recognizing a future attack. I made a mental note to have Reilly put a junior agent on the task of researching the movies.
The run, thus far, had helped me think through the problems I had been experiencing with the case. I thought about how I had been put on the defensive, having to guard myself from another attack. I wondered, if that hadn’t been the case, would I be any further along?
It made me remember what my father used to say to me after a sparring session. “It’s okay if you’re backed up against the ropes, but don’t stay there.” That’s what had happened to me. The mastermind had me leaning against them, and I hadn’t done a damn thing about it. Ali was a master against the ropes, but I was no Ali. My style was closer to Sugar Ray—small, fast, and accurate with combos.
So why then had I been content to slug it out that way, a losing position for someone like me? I wasn’t sure; maybe because the mastermind had proven to be an opponent I had never faced before. That reminded me of another thing my father had advised me to do: Adapt and come up with a different strategy. I knew I needed to go on the offensive. The mastermind assumed I would dig in and wait out the attacks, and so far, he had guessed right.
But which way forward? What offensive move should I take? I was a target, my attackers were essentially invisible, and I had no idea where or even who the mastermind was. How could I put an end to the game and not get myself killed at the same time?
A few minutes of heel against pavement, and the answer came with complete clarity. I’ll make myself a bigger target.
Chapter 27
Back at the house, I wasted no time putting my plan into place and put a call in to a trusted friend. “Everything is fine. I’ll see you in a bit.”
An hour later, I was freshly showered and had changed into jeans and a hoodie. The doorbell rang just as I had started to walk down the stairs. Standing outside on my porch with a smile on her face was my friend, Agent Tracy House.
“I’ll have you know: I fought traffic all the way across the Bay Bridge.”
I looked at my watch. “It’s noon. What traffic are you talking about?”
“There was road work. You ready?”
“Yep.” I gave my hoodie a courtesy pat out of habit to ensure I had my weapon before walking out the door.
Copeland watched all of this with a dumbfounded look. He must have thought he was invisible. He was. “Where are you heading?”
“I’ve got something in the car she needs to see firsthand,” House called out as we walked down the driveway.
I didn’t bother to look back. I wasn’t sure if Copeland or House knew each other, but I was assuming she’d had to flash her badge to gain entrance to the porch. He knew she was friendly. I had counted on that. And it worked, because he sat back down in the wicker chair while House and I got into her vehicle and drove off. I wish I could have seen the look on his face.
It didn’t take long for my phone to start ringing. “Abby, what are you doing?” Copeland asked.
“I needed to get outside. It’ll help me think through the case.”
“You were just outside.”
“Yeah, I know, but I have more thinking I need to do. Don’t worry; Agent House is with me. It’s no different than if you were escorting me. We’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
“But my orders were—”
“I’ve got control of my mouth. Do you?”
After Copeland and I had come to an understanding, I hung up and tucked my phone into my hoodie’s zippered pocket.
“What was that about?”
“One of the agents assigned to my security detail needed to cover his butt in the event that news of my little field trip makes it back to Reilly.”
“Well, if everyone keeps their mouth shut…”
“I think he got the message.”
I leaned back in my chair and stared out the window at the passing buildings. We were heading west on California Street toward Ocean Beach. A walk along the surf seemed like a good idea.
With traffic manageable, it only took twenty minutes before my toes were digging into the sand while salty sea spray filled my nose. House and I stayed just out of the grasp of the crashing surf that washed over the beach. The cawing and flapping of numerous seagulls encircled us during our walk.
I brought House up to speed on everything that had transpired since Park’s death. She knew about the attack at my home but didn’t know the details.
“Sheesh, Abby. Maybe Reilly is right. We’re not talking about one guy stalking you.”
“I get it, but sitting still and waiting to be attacked is exactly what the mastermind wants me to do. It effectively hampers my ability to investigate.”
“You won’t get any argument from me. It’s actually a brilliant strategy in an effed-up sort of way. So, what’s the plan? You’re under your director’s orders to stay put.”
I dipped both hands into my jeans pockets. “I realize that, but it’s time I helped Kang crack the connection between the Hop Sing Tong and the game.”
“Well, if they are indeed connected, showing your face around Chinatown is one way to give this guy the middle finger. Is this what this little field trip is about? Because if it is, we shouldn’t be here at the beach.”
“Reilly wanted to set up a command post on my front lawn. I talked him out of it, but now I’m thinking that’s exactly what needs to be done. We need to make this investigation as big and as public as possible.”
“Won’t that only draw more attention to you?”
“That’s exactly what I want to happen. The mastermind has strength because we’ve kept quiet on the game and the killings that took place. It’s time we let everyone know about Chasing Chinatown and what this person is doing.”
A smile appeared on House’s face. “I like it. Destroy his anonymity by going public. A press conference?”
“That and more. I’ll give Reilly his command post—only it won’t be outside my home.”
An hour later, Copeland and Knox met House and me at the Hop Sing Tong. Knox started talking the second he exited their vehicle. “Abby, you can’t just go running off. This is serious. We have a job to do, and—”
“I’m sorry,” I said, putting a hand up. “It won’t happen again. From this point forward, we’re all joined at the hip.”
Knox looked over at Copeland, who only shrugged. “What’s going on here? Why did you ask us to meet you at the tong?”
“Because this,” I said, pointing back at the building, “will be our new command post.”
Chapter 28
It didn’t take long for Knox, Copeland, and me to pack up a few personal items and rendezvous back at the tong. We were officially moving in, whether the owners liked it or not. House had already started the paperwork that would allow us to seize the property. We were making an asset grab, civil forfeiture. Under this law, the government could confiscate property without charging the owner so long as they believed that asset had been involved or associated with a crime. The tong would become the property of the U.S. government. Everything in it would be ours. Anything connected to the tong—cars, other offices, homes—would be seized. The building was the perfect location for our investigation and the beginning of the end for the mastermind and his sick game.
I had claimed the top floor of the tong. I wanted whoever came and went from that window to know they had a guest. I stripped the mattress of its bedding and fitted my own on it. I had a desk brought up from a lower floor and dry-erase boards attached to the walls.
I had just finished mapping out everything we knew to date about the game and the mastermind when Reilly appeared.
/> “Bold, Abby. Very bold.”
“If we want to catch this bastard, we need to get back to what we do best.”
“Seize assets?”
I chuckled. He walked over to the wall and looked at the information I had compiled. I had listed all the cities involved and their current status: defunct or in play. I also listed the names of the teams, the kills they had made, and whether they were apprehended, killed, or still at large. I even listed the names of anyone associated with the game or the investigation up on the wall—everyone from the mastermind to Sei to my friend Artie, the late detective in Bangkok. Every single action we were aware of had been noted. I wanted an eagle’s-eye view of all that had taken place since day one of our investigation.
Reilly walked slowly along the timeline of events. He nodded every now and then but kept his thoughts to himself until he had reached the end of the wall. “Well, this certainly makes it easier to connect the dots.”
“I agree.”
“Fill me in on your next steps, Agent.” He pulled up a chair and took a seat.
“I want to hold a news conference and reveal what we know about the game: how it’s played, who the players are, the victims, the people in charge of running it…”
“Put it out in the open, have the media and the public help us put an end to this game.”
“Exactly. By doing this, we can strip away the sheath of darkness that encompasses the game, the one thing I believe contributes to its power to exist.”
“I like it,” Reilly leaned back in his chair. “I think it’ll work. But—”
“I know what you’re about to say. It’ll make me a bigger target. That’s exactly what I want. I want to operate in the open because it will have the opposite effect. It’ll make it harder to get at me. I expect the media to follow my every move. Waverly Place will be turned into a media encampment when I start telling my story.”
“And once you’ve blown off the roof of this private party, then what?”
“This tong,” I said, looking around. “It’s the key to turning the corner on this investigation. Somehow, it’s connected to the game.” I filled Reilly in on the teapot and Kang’s discovery of it back at the tong.
Coit Tower (Abby Kane FBI Thriller - Chasing Chinatown Trilogy Book 3) Page 10
