“Drago, I can’t take this shit. This bitch is pissing me off.”
“Who are you calling a bitch?”
“Shut up! Shut up!” Zoric had tried to stay out of it. He’d worked hard to ignore most of their conversation, focusing on the MMA match on the television. He turned his head to his friend. “I like that movie too, but she’s got a point. We need something that is easy and fast.” Zoric flipped through the channels and quickly found a news station broadcasting the Chasing Chinatown investigation. “Look at this. Everybody already knows about the game.”
“So what?” Petrovic sneered.
“So what? How do you expect us to get anywhere near her?” Zoric threw both of his hands into the air. “Right now this woman is surrounded by reporters and FBI agents.” He grabbed his beer off the bedside table. “The more she talks, the harder it is for us.”
They had lost the element of surprise, and it pissed off Zoric. Sure, Kane didn’t know their identities, but that botched attempt by the sniper, the attack on her at her home, and the FBI’s full disclosure of the game were making it damn near impossible to get anywhere near her, even with her out in the open.
Petrovic chugged the rest of his beer before opening another bottle and draining half of it in one gulp. Zoric knew silence was Petrovic’s way of acknowledging that what he had said was right. He then looked over at Adrijana and thought about all the money she had spent. The emptiness in her eyes told him she wished she hadn’t. Zoric turned his attention back to the TV while his mind wrestled to find a solution to their predicament.
Silence fell over the room.
Adrijana avoided looking at the men as she sipped from the bottle of red wine she held captive between her thighs. Even with her limited knowledge of criminal activities, she knew Zoric and Petrovic didn’t have the equipment needed to make a full frontal assault, not with the security detail in place and the constant media coverage surrounding Agent Kane. To win, they would need to break from their comfort zone and do what no other team had attempted.
She swirled the wine in her mouth before breaking the silence. “What if we used her partner, the cop? You know, as bait.”
Chapter 32
The tong had all the comforts needed for us to live there. Whatever it lacked, we brought in. We requisitioned extra cots for Knox and Copeland on the fourth floor and a few other agents on the third. There was a kitchen on the second floor, and the third and fourth each had a bathroom with a shower. The top floor, which I had commandeered, lacked a shower, but I did have a toilet and a basin. It would suffice. In all, a total of six agents, including me, would be staying at the tong while a handful of support staff showed up daily.
Knox reinforced the crappy lock on the front door as well as the locks on all the lower-level windows that opened onto the fire escape. Two security cameras were installed outside the front of the tong. Knox and his team took turns monitoring the video feeds.
Kang convinced his supervisor to add foot patrols in Chinatown during the day and to increase vehicle patrols at night. Also, in an agreement struck by all parties, traffic on Waverly Place had been temporarily halted by the SFPD specifically so the news vans could camp outside—a much-needed pipeline of info to the public and the first welcomed media circus I could ever recall.
Up to that point, every aspect of my plan had been successfully executed—a nice relief considering the difficulty of the investigation. Back in the beginning, when we were chasing Team Carlson, we’d had no idea what capturing a couple of lunatics would unveil.
I stood still, staring at the boards on the wall, when I heard someone clear their throat. I turned around and found Kang standing at the top of the stairs. “You ready for your first night in the tong?” he asked, walking toward me with both hands in his pants pockets.
“Sure. The bed’s a little stiff, but it’ll do. I’m sure we can scrounge up another cot if you’re interested in joining our sleepover.”
He smiled. “I would, but Suzi’s expecting me.”
I sat and motioned for him to take a seat in one of the chairs I had brought up from the rec room on the second floor. “How’s that going?”
His head bobbed from side to side. “We’ve had better days.”
Oh, you must be referring to the time you were with me in Bangkok. I bit my tongue and only looked at him.
He had lowered his head a little, and his eyes drifted down toward the floor. “I thought things would be different since she came back from Florida, you know?” He looked back at me. “But they’re not.”
You know the saying: fool me once… Forget it. I’ll listen because you’re my friend. I remained silent.
“There are times when we’re happy, and then there are times when we’re not. I try to think that these up and down moments are simply part of relationships, but I know Suzi and I just have a lot of differences.”
His eyes had drifted back to the floor, and we both remained quiet for a few moments before he spoke again.
But this time, he sat up and clasped his hands together. “I’m sorry for laying my girlfriend problems on you.” A half smile appeared.
“Hey, that’s what friends are for.” I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t cheering inside at the thought of Kang dumping her prima donna butt, but I didn’t like seeing my usually upbeat partner wallowing in sadness. Kang was a nice guy with a good heart. He deserved someone who could appreciate what he had to offer. Someone like me. Wait, what? Focus, Abby. Stop it with the superhero crush.
As far as I could tell in listening to him talk about Suzi, she sounded like a major attention whore who treated him like an afterthought. I mean, she must be dynamite in the sack, because she comes off as a raging bitch everywhere else. The few times I was forced to see them interact, she would constantly talk over him and correct him over the minutest details. I swear, I must have mentally punched her face a million times while laughing hysterically. Kang could do much better. “Anytime you want to talk, I’m here for you.”
His smile grew. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.” A moment later, he stood. “Well, it’s getting late. I’ll see you first thing in the morning.”
As I watched him walk back down the stairs, I thought about that day in Chinatown when we had first met. “What a dork” was my first impression. Yeah, so I was wrong about the guy.
Later that night, I stood near the open double-casement window in my room, lost in a myriad of thoughts: the case, my family, my partner—more than enough to keep me up much longer than they already had.
I let out a small yawn and reached out to close the window but stopped myself. Even though the night air was chilly and filled with enough drifting fog to obscure the view of the building across the lane, I wondered about the room’s other occupant.
I left the window open and snuggled under the covers of my bed. I fell asleep with one last thought swimming in my head: Would the person I saw in my tree visit me? Again?
I hoped so.
Chapter 33
Adrijana’s idea gained traction immediately. Zoric wrote the detective’s name down, thanks to the media, and Adrijana was able to Google his address successfully.
To figure out what they were up against and if there were something about Detective Kang that they could take advantage of, Zoric wanted to start surveillance right away. What type of residence did he live in? Did he live alone? This was Petrovic’s responsibility. In the meantime, Zoric and Adrijana would hit up a nearby army surplus store for some much-needed equipment.
Forty minutes later, Petrovic exited the cab at the intersection of Hyde and Jackson, about a block north of the detective’s home address. He approached the address from across the street.
Foot traffic at that time of night was minimal. There were a few people visiting the convenience store. A man walking his Chihuahua passed by, but he seemed too involved with his phone conversation to pay any attention to the other people on the street. Petrovic also noticed rail tracks running down the middle of Hyd
e Street but hadn’t seen any passing cable cars.
When he reached the address, he found himself staring at a fairly average-looking Victorian duplex. It looked nothing like the fancy houses he saw farther up the street. According to the information Adrijana had fed him, Detective Kang lived at 1603-A—the door on the left with its lights off. He assumed the detective was still in Chinatown.
To the left of the building was a concrete pad big enough to park a car. Toward the back was a wooden gate about eight feet high. Pressed up against the right side of the building was a carriage house. Either the neighbors weren’t home or they were fast asleep.
Petrovic crossed over to inspect the driveway. He noticed oil stains on the white concrete where the detective parked his car and that the wooden gate was actually made up of two separate gates.
Petrovic slipped around the first gate and passed two trash containers before cornering around the second. It led him to a small, shared backyard behind the building.
Petrovic checked the back door of unit A and found it locked—not a major obstacle. He peered into the window just to the right of the door and saw a small laundry room. The window glass was thin against his knuckles when he rapped. His assessment thus far was that the building was accessible. The only question he hadn’t an answer for was whether the home had an alarm system. Petrovic had noticed a few homes with stickers in the windows touting Brinks Home Security.
Satisfied with what he saw, Petrovic backtracked to the sidewalk out front and walked over to the convenience store, where he bought a pack of cigarettes. He lit one and took a seat at the bus stop near the intersection. From there he could keep an eye on the Victorian and not look out of place.
No sooner had he sat than a car slowed and turned into the driveway next to the Victorian. Petrovic perked up as he watched a lanky Asian man in a dark suit exit the vehicle. Detective Kang. He watched him walk behind the gate with a bag in his hand and, soon after, he reappeared without it before heading toward the front door. A light lit up the front parlor window on the first floor, and Petrovic saw the detective pass by. After that, he didn’t see him again.
Petrovic texted Zoric what he had discovered so far and told him he wanted to watch the home for a bit longer. Zoric replied that he and Adrijana had picked up some useful supplies.
It was a little past midnight when Petrovic decided to call it a night. There was nothing more to see. But just as he stood, a news van for KTVU stopped outside the Victorian. A tall, thin Asian woman exited the vehicle. As she hurried up the stairs toward the door leading into 1603-A, Petrovic heard the driver call out, “I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning at nine.”
The van caught the light at the intersection and came to a stop. The street was deserted. The convenience store stood dark and empty. Petrovic sprang into action.
A white male with a bushy beard sat in the driver’s seat with the window rolled down. On-ear headphones hugged his head as he nodded rhythmically to a beat. The driver didn’t hear Petrovic’s approach. He never even looked his way, but the loud smack of bone against bone sounded like a gunshot to Petrovic in the quiet neighborhood.
Within seconds, Petrovic was in the driver’s seat of the van, and lying across the passenger seat was the unconscious driver. Petrovic drove up the street to an area where the trees lining the sidewalk were dense, blocking out the streetlights. He parked the vehicle and moved the man to the rear of the van, where there was an array of electronic cables scattered. He picked one, wrapped it around the man’s neck, and pulled tight—holding it much longer than he really needed.
It took Petrovic twenty minutes to find a dumpster where he could dispose of the body. On the way back to the hotel, he texted Zoric. “Good news. I have a new plan.”
Chapter 34
“You idiot!” Adrijana’s voice ricocheted off the walls of the underground parking garage.
Zoric grabbed her arm. “Keep your voice down.”
“What the hell kind of plan is this?” she continued with a hushed tone through gritted teeth.
The three of them stood next to the news van that Petrovic had driven back to the hotel. He had already fed them the details of how he’d ended up with it.
“This is a great idea, but you’re too stupid to know any better,” Petrovic sneered.
“Stupid?” Adrijana’s forehead crinkled as she pulled her head back into her neck. “We’re not here for one day, and you’ve killed someone and stolen their van. And not just any van—a news van. How soon before someone knows it’s missing?”
“I told you, we have until nine o’clock tomorrow morning. That’s when he said he would pick up the girl.”
“Adrijana, I know things are moving fast, but this is a good plan,” Zoric said. “Posing as a news team will give us access to the agent.”
She couldn’t deny that. For the most part, she largely stayed out of Zoric and Petrovic’s criminal escapades and therefore didn’t see firsthand what they actually did for a living. “What do we know about being a news team?”
“What’s to know? I’ll be the producer, Branko will be the cameraman, and you, my beautiful one,” Zoric said, cupping the side of her face gently, “you will be the reporter.”
“I don’t know how to interview.”
“You don’t have to. We just need to get access to her, someplace where we can be alone. That’s when we’ll kill her.”
“And we’re supposed to just walk away?” Adrijana’s line of questioning continued.
“Yeah,” Zoric smiled as he turned to Petrovic and slapped him on the back. The two men obviously thought the plan was foolproof. Being that Petrovic had pretty much committed them by killing the driver and stealing his van, she had no other choice but to go along.
As the three of them walked back to the elevator, Zoric slipped an arm around Adrijana. “Tonight you watch the news, write down a few questions, see how a reporter acts. You’ll be fine.”
“You said I wouldn’t have to interview her.”
“It’s just in case.”
They exited the elevator, and a short walk down the hall put them back into their room. Petrovic went for the corner, picking up a beer from the fridge along the way, and plopped down in the chair. Zoric turned on the TV and made himself comfortable on the bed. Adrijana lay next to him against the headboard. “Okay, say we get her alone and kill her. How do we satisfy the game?”
“Ah, I already know the perfect movie: the last Dirty Harry film.” He looked at her. A smile formed. “It’s about celebrity killings. In the movie, Dirty Harry is one of the people on the list. In our version, it’s Dirty Kane.”
Chapter 35
I squinted as I peered at the time on my phone: three a.m.
No one had shaken me awake or called out my name. A loud disturbance outside hadn’t alerted my ears. The cool air that flooded the room hadn’t been the culprit. As far as I could recall, I had simply opened my eyes.
I turned onto my side to place my phone back on the small nightstand only to realize my holstered weapon, the one I had left on the nightstand before turning in, had gone missing.
I drew a sharp breath as a flurry of thoughts exploded in my head. Before I could make sense of any of them, a voice—a familiar one—interrupted my thought process. “Knock, knock. Who’s there?”
My eyes darted to the area from which the voice had emanated. My breathing halted instinctively, and adrenaline-fueled blood tore throughout my body, shaking off any remaining remnants of sleep.
I held my phone up, and the white glow from the screen penetrated the dark. My eyelids flapped open and shut as I sought the person behind the voice. I didn’t have to search for very long before a figure appeared from the depths of the darkness.
Sei!
She looked exactly as I remembered her, except now she wore a black jumpsuit that fit her physique like a glove. It appeared to be the same one that she had worn in the surveillance footage Park had given me. I guess she was responsible for that kill
.
“I expected a much more enthusiastic response,” she said dryly.
“Sorry to disappoint.” The room fell dark again as the light from my phone shut off. I hit the menu button again, reinvigorating it. She had moved a bit closer in that span of time. The light popped against her porcelain skin while her hair blended into the darkness behind her. She wore heavy eyeliner, making her gaze darker. Deadlier. Her plump, pink lips were devoid of the hot-red lipstick she had worn in Bangkok.
“Must you keep that annoying light on?”
“I happen to like it.”
“Suit yourself.” She grabbed one of the chairs and positioned it ten feet from the bed and took a seat. “It’s a crime that I infiltrated your”—she looked around the room—“defenses.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. I purposely left the window open.” I sat up and slid my legs toward the side of the bed so I could better look at Sei—and to better position myself to react. Even though we were seemingly having a cordial conversation, I knew firsthand how dangerous she could be. The worst thing I could do was lower my guard. I tilted the light down for a better look around the nightstand.
“Fear not. Your gun is in a safe place.”
Bathroom? Cabinet? Outside on the fire escape?
“Are you scared? Don’t be. If I had wanted to kill you, I could have easily about a million times by now.”
“Well, then, if you’re not here to kill me, why did you show up?”
Sei stood without answering me and took another look around the room, mainly the area around the nightstand.
“I don’t see my teapot anywhere. I will be needing that back.”
“Fear not. Your teapot is in a safe place,” I said, mimicking her. Kang had taken the pot during his second visit to the tong to see if he could grab prints off it. It had come up empty.
“It would be in your best interest to return it to me.”
Coit Tower (Abby Kane FBI Thriller - Chasing Chinatown Trilogy Book 3) Page 12
