“So you two think whoever has been sneaking in and out of this place is also the person you saw in your tree?”
“Yes. In fact, I’ll go one further. I think this mysterious person also killed Antonio Rocha.”
“Team Favela?”
I nodded. “I believe that person sleeps in this bed, and I’m hoping for another run-in.” From the look on Reilly’s face, I couldn’t tell if he had bought into my new approach to the investigation.
“I’ll be honest, Abby: I’m on the fence. Shedding a light on the game, I think that’s a smart move. But your next step forward is muddy at best.”
I understood the pushback. I couldn’t positively argue that relying on a connection of the tong with the game would lead to cracking the case, but that was how I investigated. I squeezed and squeezed until there was no place for them to run.
I let out a breath and shifted my weight from one foot to the other. “So, what are you saying?”
Before Reilly could answer, Kang appeared at the top of the stairs. “So it’s true.” He had a wide smile stretched across his face. “Having control of the tong will definitely help.” Kang gave Reilly a courtesy nod as he walked over to the marker boards.
“Update me in two days,” Reilly said as he stood. “I expect progress.” He headed down the stairs.
With both hands resting on his hips, Kang turned to me. “What’s he got to say about all this?”
“He’s cautious, as usual, but he’s given me enough rope to hang myself.”
“Well, that’s not what’s going to happen. This is a brilliant move.”
“Your praise… it’s so… unlike you.” I grinned.
“I’m serious.” Kang grabbed a marker and wrote the name “Charles Yee” off to the side of where I had written “mastermind”; I had him positioned at the very top of pyramid of people involved in the game.
“Who’s that?” I asked.
“He’s in charge of the tong, but funny enough, he’s never around.” Kang briefed me on the conversation he’d had with Ethel that morning.
“How well does she know this guy?”
“Well enough, I suppose.” Kang pocketed his hands into his slacks. “But she’s coming up empty on making an introduction. Finding him should be our next step. The fact that he’s made himself unavailable only makes me believe that he and this tong are involved. I’ve already reached out the NYPD’s 5th Precinct. They cover Chinatown. Ethel said he was a community leader there.”
“This guy sounds guiltier by the second.” I moved toward my laptop and logged into the NCIC server. After a few minutes, I looked back at Kang. “It appears the bureau doesn’t officially have anything on the guy, but that doesn’t mean we haven’t heard of him. I’ll put a call in to the New York office and see if his name yields anything useful.” Could this guy be our elusive mastermind?
I walked back over to the board where Kang had written his name and drew a question mark next to the mastermind. “If your friend Ethel knows this guy so well, well enough she can pick up a phone and reach him, surely she must have a picture of him. But what has my brain spinning is if this guy really is the mastermind, what’s Ethel doing hanging out with him?”
“Yeah, you’re right. But she might not know. To start with, we can canvas Chinatown, and if he’s here, we can force him out of hiding.”
I looked at my watch. It was nearing four thirty in the afternoon. “Let’s pay Ethel another visit, see what sort of progress a day has allowed her to make.”
Chapter 29
Copeland and Knox met us on our way down the stairs. “What are our next steps?” Knox asked.
“We’re heading over to Stockton. There’s someone there we need to question. You two should join us. The more the merrier.”
“We’ll bring the car around.”
“Let’s walk. It’ll give us another opportunity to address the media.”
No sooner had the four of us exited the building than we were ambushed by the hordes of reporters camped outside. It was exactly what I had wanted to happen. I held up a hand to quiet them as we walked. “The investigation is still ongoing, but we are making significant progress.”
“Can you tell us anything more about the connection of the tong with the game?” one of the reporters asked.
“We do have new information,” I said, pausing. “We could use the public’s help in locating a Mr. Charles Yee, the person responsible for managing the tong.”
“Is he the man behind the game, the so-called mastermind?”
“I can neither confirm nor deny that, but the sooner we can locate him, the better we will be able to answer that question.”
“The SFPD is working on securing a positive ID on this guy,” Kang added. “We’ll circulate a picture once we do.”
With a swarm of reporters following us, we had a ten-foot buffer zone separating me from any opportunistic player of the game. The media, in their quest for information, provided a layer of fat—the good kind. I wouldn’t go so far as to call it a secured zone, but still, it helped.
I leaned in closer to Kang. “Well, we’ve just outed Mr. Yee. If he’s completely innocent, this should bring him to our attention.”
“I’d say we did more than that. We just pegged him as the mastermind.”
“We didn’t. The media did,” I said with a smile.
“Agent Kane,” came another voice from the throng. “Where are you heading now?”
“The CCBA on Stockton.”
“What can you tell us about their involvement with the game?”
“I wouldn’t go so far as to say they’re involved, but they might possess information that can lead us to Mr. Yee.”
The media hub walked in step with us all the way to the front steps of the CCBA, and we did nothing but welcome them to wait for our return, affording us the same security buffer on our walk back to the tong.
Once inside, Knox and Copeland took positions near the entrance while Kang led me back to Ethel’s office. I could hear her voice booming from a room at the end of the hallway.
As soon as we rounded the corner, she stopped talking and covered the phone with her palm. “Kyle, what are you doing here?”
“I’m sorry to bother you twice in one day.”
I stepped out from behind Kang, prompting Ethel to politely end the call.
“Agent Kane, I didn’t see you. Please sit.” She motioned to the two chairs in front of her desk.
“We have more questions,” I said.
Ethel’s eyes focused on Kang. “I know why you’re here. It’s been all over the news. I’ve been trying to track down Charles ever since our meeting this morning. I don’t understand it. He’s always returned my calls right away. I’m beginning to worry.”
“Ethel,” I said, “do you have a picture of him?”
“If he’s in some sort of trouble, we can use the public’s help in finding him,” Kang added.
“Oh, I’m sure I do.” Ethel reached down, lifted her purse onto her lap, and dug around until she found her smartphone. She adjusted her glasses as she used one hand to maneuver through the screens on the phone. “Hmmm, maybe I’m wrong. I thought for sure I had one.” She looked up over her glasses. “I’ve been to a couple of group luncheons with Charles, and we always take pictures at these events, but it doesn’t look like I have any. Strange.” She clucked her tongue. “I’ll dig around and ask a few friends we have in common and see if I can locate a picture for you.”
“Kyle mentioned that Mr. Yee was a community organizer back in New York.”
“Yes, his most notable work was for the On Leong Tong.”
“Does the tong have a website? Maybe his picture is—” Before I could finish my sentence, Kang had his phone out, Googling the tong.
“I got nothing coming up for On Leong,” he reported. “I’ve heard of them but don’t know much about their organization.”
“They might not have a website—typical for most tongs,” Ethel said. “I’
m trying to change that. Anyway, they’re located on Mott Street in New York’s Chinatown district. They also go by the name Chinese Merchants Association. Try that.”
Kang found a simplistic website that gave out information on the association along with upcoming events and activities. “No pictures, and I don’t see any mention of Charles Yee.”
“Doesn’t surprise me,” Ethel said. “He wasn’t a member. He only consulted.”
“For a guy who’s done so much, he’s certainly hard to pin down,” Kang said as he closed the browser on his phone. “Is there anybody there that can help us locate him?”
“I’m one step ahead of you.” Ethel waved a finger. “I’ve already put in a call. It’s been a while since he’s done any work with them, but I’m hopeful.”
“What kind of work did he do for them exactly?” I asked.
“Well, during the early eighties up until the early nineties, the tong had been under the control of the Ghost Shadows, a Chinese gang. Charles had been instrumental in helping the authorities nab their leader, Wing Yeung Chan, and ultimately wrestled control of the tong away from the gang and back into the hands of the Chinatown community.”
“That case rings a bell,” Kang said. “I think Chan was indicted on murder and racketeering charges.”
“That sounds about right.” Ethel nodded. “Charles’ experience with that is partly the reason why I thought he would make a good fit here. We—well, Chinatown, really—wanted to ensure that the Hop Sing Tong didn’t fall back into its old ways.”
“Partly? What was the other reason?” I asked.
“His wife died a few years ago. They had no children. In one of my visits to New York, he mentioned that he was looking for a change, something that would take him out of the Big Apple. I’ve always kept that in the back of my mind.”
“So it was your decision to hire him?” I asked.
“The decision was made by various community business owners in Chinatown. All I did was bring Charles to their attention.” Ethel let out a soft breath as she looked away.
“Were you two close?” I questioned.
“Not originally. The distance kept our relationship mostly businesslike. But with his arrival out here, we got to know each other a bit better. I considered him a friend. There is no way he is involved with anything illegal.”
“We didn’t say he was. Is there a reason why you thought of that?”
Ethel shifted in her chair. “Look, I won’t play dumb. I know why you’re asking about him. I’ve seen some of the interviews you’ve given to the media. The FBI is claiming that the tong is connected to this Chasing Chinatown game, if there is one.”
“What makes you think there isn’t?”
“I’m not discounting that people were killed and that the tong had been under control of the Triads, but I find it hard to believe that it’s still involved. Jing Woo and his gang were decimated by the FBI.”
“Well, someone else got to Jing before we did,” I said.
“Charles is not this so-called mastermind, if that’s what you’re thinking. Believe me.”
“And what makes you so sure of that?”
“He… he can’t be. He’s such a nice man. Not a mean bone in his body.” Ethel clasped her hands together and placed them in her lap. Her head lowered, her eyes softened, and her shoulders slumped—a sudden realization, I imagined.
“I had such high hopes. I thought we were finally putting an end to the organized crime that has plagued our community here in San Francisco from the beginning.” Ethel looked up at us. “Could I have been so wrong about him?”
“We need to find him, Ethel,” Kang said. His voice had taken a serious turn. “Innocent or not, he’s gone missing, and in my experience, that’s never a good sign.”
Chapter 30
We waited until we were back inside the tong before discussing our conversation with Knox and Copeland. While we needed attention from the media, I had been mindful of the information fed to them. They were merely pawns.
We gathered on the top floor, away from prying ears and microphones.
“So this Yee guy, you think she’s trying to protect him, or is she being genuine?” Knox said what everyone had been thinking.
“Kyle knows her better than I do.” I turned toward him. “What’s your take?”
“No way.” Kang shook his head. “I’ve known Ethel for a long time. I don’t believe she would keep anything from me, especially something like this.”
“Still, it’s a little suspect that she claims to be his friend and has known him for years, yet can’t produce a picture or get him on the phone.” I shrugged. “Just saying.”
“I know how it looks, but I’m willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. I wouldn’t wait on her to produce this guy, though. I’ve got his phone number now and I’ll be calling nonstop.”
“Not having an ID on this guy isn’t making things easier,” Copeland added as he walked over to the window and looked down below. “Let’s hope that, with the media blasting his name out there, we’re able pick up a lead on his whereabouts.”
“Another mystery guy to add to the list,” Knox said with breathy sarcasm.
I couldn’t blame him. An elusive mastermind, a ghost assassin, and a faceless community organizer made up our cast of top suspects.
“There’s Lester,” Kang offered.
“Who?” I asked.
“The old man you bumped into outside of the tong.” Kang grabbed a dry-erase marker and wrote his name on the board. “I questioned him earlier this morning. He said he saw someone enter this room through that window at night, so no specifics on what the person looked like.”
“Using the window as a door only confirms our suspicions that something sketchy is happening in this tong,” I said.
“Lester couldn’t give a description? No specifics?”
Kang shook his head. “I think the guy has cataracts. We’re lucky he even witnessed it. Still, since we have everyone else on the board, might as well add him.”
“Cataracts? Sheesh, two steps forward, three back,” Knox commented before heading for the stairs. “I think that pot of coffee should be done brewing.”
We all followed him down to the second floor. Kang picked up the TV remote and turned on the large flat-screen TV. Chasing Chinatown dominated every news station. “The first part of our plan is hitting on all cylinders.”
We watched for a few minutes before Copeland broke the silence. “Man, we need to convert this attention into action. It’s rare that a case gets so much attention. I mean, CNN is covering this story nonstop.”
“I agree,” Kang chimed in.
“Let’s give it time, see what information comes back. In the meantime, I’ll continue giving interviews to feed the frenzy.”
Knox reappeared from the kitchen with a pot of coffee in one hand and a bunch of paper cups in the other. He set the brew down on the table. “Abby, I’ve got a kettle of hot water on the stove for you.”
“Thanks.” I headed into the kitchen, where I had left my tin of loose-leaf tea. I drink only Tieguanyin. I pried the cover off, grabbed a pinch, and dropped the leaves into an empty mug. I poured water from the kettle, and within seconds, the water began to take on that familiar green hue. I took a tiny sip. Another minute and it’ll be perfect. I placed a napkin over the cup and headed toward the stairs. “I’ll be up on the fifth if anybody needs me.”
Chapter 31
Zoric, Petrovic, and Adrijana settled in at the Holiday Inn on Van Ness Avenue shortly after seven p.m. Empty takeout boxes from the diner next door littered the top of a small table near the sliding door leading out to a narrow balcony. A twelve-pack of Budweiser sat on the elongated desktop that ran the length of one side of the room under a window of the same dimensions. The air conditioning unit was a floor model, and its hum was nothing less than industrial.
“This is bullshit, man,” Petrovic blurted after taking a swig from his beer bottle. He sat slouched in a chai
r, which was tucked away in the corner of the room, with one booted foot on the carpeted floor and the other resting on an ottoman. They couldn’t afford two rooms, and all the rooms with two twin beds were occupied. They had settled for one with a king-sized bed and had requested a rollaway bed. Guess who got the rollaway. “Why don’t we just go to a cheaper hotel so we can get two rooms?”
“This is a cheap hotel,” Adrijana countered, her tone laced with disgust, as usual. She and Zoric were sitting on the bed, resting back against the pillows that lined the headboard.
“I’m sure there are cheaper hotels,” Petrovic continued.
Adrijana looked at Zoric. “I’m not staying in some rat-infested, piece-of-shit place.”
“Oh, look who’s too good.” Petrovic chugged more of his beer.
Zoric hated being around both of them at the same time. The two bickered nonstop, with him always forced to side with one or the other. He worried that bringing Adrijana with them would hamper their ability to complete the Attraction. But in addition to bankrolling the trip, Adrijana had also secured counterfeit passports for each of them. Zoric and Petrovic had had no choice but to bring her along.
“The sooner we get rid of this FBI agent, the sooner we can collect our money,” Zoric said. “We must act fast.” They had no idea how many other teams had come to finish the game. Updates were no longer being supported on the application.
“We have no weapons. How are we supposed to grab her?” Petrovic asked. “I can choke that bitch, but it’s not like she’s waiting outside for me.”
“We need a plan,” Adrijana noted. “Plus, we can’t submit just any picture of her dead. It has to tie into the theme.”
“I told you guys, The Rock. If we use that movie, we will win.”
“And what is the plan?” Adrijana rolled her eyes. “You going to blow her up in a building with all the C-4 explosive you have in your back pocket? No, wait. You want to lock her up in a cell inside Alcatraz?”
Coit Tower (Abby Kane FBI Thriller - Chasing Chinatown Trilogy Book 3) Page 11
