by Toby Neal
“I’m going to kill you. It’s just a matter of time and place,” Assan said as she reappeared.
Sophie leaned down and spat in his face. “You’re only alive because I’m going to watch you lose everything, and suffer before you die.”
The next several hours were a blur of the controlled chaos that follows death. HPD arrived, Ken, Gundersohn, and Waxman showed up, and lastly Dr. Fukushima, the Honolulu medical examiner.
One of the EMTs bandaged Sophie. The razor had scratched her cheek and taken a bit off the top of her ear. Her wrist was severely bruised. Her throat was the most painful injury, and there was nothing to be done for that but rest.
She gave a statement to the responding officers and detective about coming by the apartment, hoping to ask Chan a few more questions, and the attack that had followed. Waxman stood in the background, arms crossed on his chest. She dreaded talking to him.
“We already had a case open involving Lee Chan,” she told the officers. “I’m taking his computer in. It has information we need for our case.”
After a brief turf battle that the FBI definitively won, Sophie walked out of the apartment carrying the evidence-bagged laptop while Waxman was distracted by Dr. Fukushima, the medical examiner. She didn’t look at the medical personnel working on Assan. No one had commented on her excessive use of restraint on an injured man.
In the apartment’s doorway, she snagged Ken Yamada by his jacket sleeve. “Ken, I need to talk to you. About something other than this.”
“What could be bigger than catching your ex as one of the men behind the craziness at Security Solutions?” But Ken followed her into the hall.
Sophie told him that she now had a general physical description of someone who had access to apartment 9C in the Pendragon Arches, had retrieved a package, possessed a black belt in some sort of martial arts, and was near enough not to have to change when he went to pick up something at the apartment.
“Who do you think it was?” Ken’s even brows were pulled together in a frown.
“I don’t know.”
They both turned to look at Assan Ang being wheeled out on a gurney accompanied by two uniformed officers. He refused to acknowledge either of them, and Sophie shut her eyes until he passed.
Maybe she should have killed him.
“No. You shouldn’t have killed him. It would have looked bad,” Ken said. “He’ll get what’s coming to him.”
She must have spoken aloud. “That’s what I’m counting on.”
“I was just going to call you from the kidnap building when Waxman sent us here to Chan’s apartment. We scooped up some wrong on the fourteenth floor, all right. The room was being used to shoot a porn flick.”
“What?” Sophie was nonplussed.
“Yeah. We all saw more than we wanted to when we broke down the door. Apparently that floor is available for all sorts of shenanigans. We’re going to have to keep an eye on it through your contact at the building.”
“Shenanigans?” A new word.
“Stuff like pornos. Not illegal, necessarily, but not savory either. We interviewed the man who booked the room and he said he found the number to call to reserve it on a forum. So if we can connect that with Ang and Lee, we’ll have a lock on them for the kidnapping too.”
“Assan admitted to me he killed Lee to shut him up, and that he was behind the kidnapping.”
“We’ll need to focus on building a case against Ang with what we can prove—which is that you practically caught him killing Chan, and then he attacked you. That should be enough to put him away for a good long time.”
“We can be sure that what’s on Lee’s laptop is what Assan wants us to find. Probably frames him for everything. But there’s still more going on.” Sophie told Ken about the man who called himself the Ghost, leaving out the personal nature of their correspondence. “Maybe all we have to do to find the Ghost is watch apartment 9C.”
“I think there’s enough in what you’ve told me to get that apartment opened,” Ken said. “We are, after all, still searching for Sheldon Hamilton, who’s a missing person. Now you’ve found a second residence. Personally, I think Sheldon Hamilton’s going to turn up floating in the bay in Hong Kong.”
“I disagree. I think Hamilton disappeared on purpose. At the very least, there’s some sort of operative using apartment 9C as a drop. Because of the timing, the pickup I saw could have been the surveillance transmitter that ended up being traced to my location and leading to the breach into my apartment.” Sophie shifted from foot to foot in agitation, her wrist aching.
“I’m planning to bring all this to Waxman and see what he says.”
Sophie frowned in frustration, glancing back toward the grisly bathroom, where Waxman was still talking with the Medical Examiner.
“How about the two of us go to the Pendragon Arches apartment with the building manager, and get it unlocked? We need to see what’s inside. I don’t want it to be you and Gundersohn without me. I’ve tracked this beast this far. I want to find his lair.”
“Beast? Lair?” She’d startled a snort of amusement out of Ken. “You talk about him like he’s some sort of mythical creature.”
“I’ve begun to think of him that way. There are so many layers to this. We’re only seeing what he wants us to see. Getting this surveillance video is, I believe, the first real evidence that shows the Ghost.” She could feel Ken wavering. “Please. I’ve never asked for a favor before.”
“All right. But technically, you’re still on leave, and going to be more so after Ang’s shooting, so let me do all the talking. Meet me at the Pendragon Arches in two hours.”
“Thanks,” Sophie said fervently. “Oh, and I finally came up with an address for the shell corporation under Takeda Industries. Guess where it is?”
“Don’t tell me. Apartment 9C.”
“Right. Seems like that apartment is a handy location for all the ‘shenanigans’ of the top management of the Security Solutions.”
Ken smiled at Sophie’s use of his word. Waxman, done talking, spotted Sophie and strode forward to take the evidence-bagged laptop from her arms, frowning. Sophie cradled her wrist, wriggling it tentatively.
“You aren’t back on the schedule until tomorrow, Agent Ang,” he said coldly. “And then we have the investigation of this latest incident to deal with. I’ll take these back to the office and log them in. What possessed you to come by here, anyway?”
“I just had this feeling about Chan. I didn’t put it together with Assan—he wasn’t on my radar at all.”
“Assan is refusing to talk about any of it and has lawyered up. Dr. Fukushima, the ME, says Chan’s body looks exsanguinated, which of course it is. The wounds on his wrists were deep vertical cuts—he bled out within minutes.” Waxman was still frowning. Somehow Sophie knew his anger was because she’d come so close to being killed.
“I surprised Assan. He was staging Lee’s suicide after he’d murdered him. If I’d come a few minutes later, he might have gotten away with it. A few minutes earlier, and I might have saved Lee’s life.” Sophie shook her head, regret tightening her already sore throat. She looked up to meet her boss’s eyes. “Lee was telling the truth when he said he was afraid for his life.”
“So Lee was the saboteur,” Ken said thoughtfully.
“No!” Sophie exclaimed impatiently. “I don’t think he had the—twisted sense of justice, the brilliance to be the saboteur. He was selling out Security Solutions’ intel. But Assan confirmed to me that he killed Lee to shut him up, tie up a loose end. Lee was set up to take the fall for everything.”
“On that note, go get some rest, Agent Ang,” Waxman said. “We can sort the details out later. For now, we’ve got a body and a murderer in custody, and that’s all we need to deal with right now.”
Sophie turned away with one last pleading glance at Ken, who gave her a slight nod. He’d meet her at the Pendragon Arches later. Relieved, Sophie walked down the hall, cradling her wrist.
Chapter Thirty
The rotund building manager of the Pendragon Arches was clearly annoyed to have to leave the comfort of his office, but Ken’s formal, no-nonsense demeanor left no room for argument. In front of the shiny door of 9C, the manager fumbled through a thick ring of keys.
Beside him, Sophie felt her pulse speed up. She’d gone home, taken a couple of Vicodin, napped like the dead and got up again when Ken appeared at her door. She’d draped a filmy scarf around her bruised throat, but there was no disguising the bandage on her ear, the Band-Aid on her cheek, the bruises left over from her fight.
But nothing was going to keep her from finding out who was in Apartment 9C. Her heart pounded. Not with fear. Excitement. She was so close to catching the Ghost.
“Well, before you get all hot and bothered finding the key, let’s see if anyone’s home.” Ken reached out a finger and pushed the bell. It dinged inside, a genteel chime. The manager was still trying to find the right key when the door opened.
A shirtless man wearing red flannel pajama bottoms with kangaroos on them stood in the doorway, rubbing wet blond hair. A square-jawed, blue-eyed face looked at them questioningly. Sophie tried not to notice the man’s well-developed physique.
“George! What’s the problem?” He had a light Australian accent.
“Ah, Mr. Remarkian. You’re back,” the manager exclaimed. “These FBI agents insisted on coming in to search this apartment. They say they’re looking for Sheldon Hamilton.”
“Oh, good!” The man’s face cleared and he grinned. “So glad you two came by. I’ve had a communication from Sheldon and I’ve been on the phone to Security Solutions to tell them the crisis is over. Come on in.” He made a welcoming gesture for them to enter, and the manager, emitting obsequious noises, removed himself.
“Special Agent Ken Yamada, Special Agent Sophie Ang.” Ken introduced them as they stepped into the apartment, flipping open his creds wallet.
Sophie hesitated in the doorway, still trying to get over the surprise of finding Todd Remarkian in the apartment. The place was beautifully furnished in a modern minimalist style, with elegant silver carpeting and a luxe seating area in black leather.
Todd reached out to shake Sophie’s limp hand, humor and concern in his bright blue eyes. “You look like you’ve been through the wringer.” That Aussie accent was broader in person. His hand was dry and slightly callused.
“Hazards of the job,” Sophie said. Her voice was still scratchy. “We’ve met—sort of. On the phone.”
“Must have been a hell of a day!”
“It has been. We have news for you. But I’m surprised. I was here earlier and no one was home,” Sophie said.
“Yeah. I got in from Hong Kong late last night and had to go out and pick up some food, run some errands. You must have come when I was out.” Todd spoke over his shoulder as he walked toward the kitchen. “I was just fixing some tea. Care for some?”
“Sure.” Ken surprised Sophie with his reply. The senior agent sat down on the leather couch. “Glad to hear there’s some news of Hamilton.”
“Oh yes. He called me on a visual linkup. Asked me to record our conversation for the board of Security Solutions and for you folks, once I told him he was being investigated as a missing person.” Todd Remarkian’s voice came back hollowly from the kitchen. Sophie heard some clattering noises. She sat tentatively on the loveseat adjacent to Ken and looked around the apartment.
The space had the professionally decorated impersonality of a corporate condominium, right down to a brass urn against the wall matching the ones by the front door. Ken quirked an eyebrow at her as Sophie searched for some personal sign of Todd’s occupancy.
She spotted a discarded towel on the floor of the bathroom, a pile of clothing on the bed visible through the open door. On the coffee table in front of them rested a sleek silver laptop. Regrettably, it was closed. She longed to open it and see what programs he was running.
Todd Remarkian came back from the kitchen. He’d put on a T-shirt and he carried a designer teapot in hammered copper on a bamboo tray set with matching copper-colored mugs, sliced lemon and a ramekin of sugar cubes. He set the tea things down on the table and addressed Sophie. “Lemon? Sugar?”
“Black is fine.”
Remarkian poured the tea and handed her a cup. Ken accepted lemon, and when they were all situated, he sat beside Ken on the larger sofa and opened the laptop.
“As Agent Ang said, we have news for you, too,” Ken said. “Nothing good, I’m afraid.”
“Oh?” Remarkian sipped his tea. His eyes were guileless, candid.
“Lee Chan was murdered today. By a man named Assan Ang.” Sophie said, watching the blond man intently. “The killer’s in custody.”
Remarkian’s eyes widened. His teacup clattered a little against the table as he set it down. “I’m so sorry to hear that,” he said. “Chan killed. My God. Why?”
Ken didn’t answer him. “We’d like to know all you can tell us about Chan. Okay if I record this?” He took out his phone and thumbed it to a voice-recording feature.
Remarkian made a gesture to Sophie, taking in her injuries. “Did he hurt you?”
“Not all of it,” Sophie said. “Have you ever had dealings with Assan Ang? He’s a businessman from Hong Kong.”
“I’m aware of that name from our work in Hong Kong. Import-export, right? But I’ve never met the man.” Remarkian knew something; Sophie could see it in the tight corners of his mouth.
“Someone is the saboteur, and someone is selling information within your company. We know that much. It seems Lee Chan was the leak,” Ken said. “We got into his laptop today and found evidence he was siphoning off your clients’ information and selling it to Assan Ang, and possibly others.”
“I told you to look hard at him,” Remarkian said directly to Sophie.
“How did you know about his financials?” Sophie asked.
“I suspected. I had bookkeeping put a bug on his account, if you must know. I froze him out of our client information days ago.” Remarkian shook his head. “I thought he was the saboteur, too. Getting his jollies manipulating our less than legal clients into hurting themselves and making a profit off them at the same time.”
“There’s nothing in his computer indicating that,” Ken said. “Though it might be safe to assume.”
“Why don’t you tell us your news about Sheldon Hamilton?” Sophie asked. “It could be germane to the case.”
“I already called Frank Honing—of course, I had no idea about what you just told me. I left a voice message on his phone, and I called the rest of the board. We’re having an emergency board of directors meeting later today to review and implement what Sheldon directed, but to start, I’ll play this recording of our conversation this morning.”
Sophie sipped her tea, and was startled to find that it was the strong flavor she bought at a specialty shop. “You drink Thai tea.”
Todd, still fiddling with his laptop, glanced up and grinned, an attractive smile.
“Got a taste for it in all my time overseas. I have it shipped here to keep a supply on hand.”
“It’s different.” Ken apparently didn’t care for the smoky, dark flavor as he added sugar to his, stirring with a tinkling sound.
“Man. I’m still reeling about Ang and Chan. Shit. Do you know why Ang killed him?” Remarkian asked.
“Not for sure. We’re interested in anything that you could tell us about that,” Ken said smoothly.
“I have no damn idea, like I said. I had my hands full dealing with the Hong Kong expansion.” Remarkian stood, pushed his hands through his hair in agitation. “Frank Honing is giving me a run for my money at the management level. He’s a company man all the way, buttoned up tight, a real control freak. In fact, I anticipate the most problems from him with the changes this video calls for.” He sat back down. “Let me just play this for you.”
Sophie had to move over to join the two men on the sofa and get a
look at the screen. She realized, as her shoulder brushed Remarkian’s, that she was nervous to see the man she’d guessed was the Ghost.
“Hey Todd. Are you recording?” Sheldon Hamilton looked much as he had in the corporate photo Sophie had seen on the company website: dapper in a well-cut suit, short dark hair styled. He wore fashionable black-rimmed glasses and had grown a goatee.
Sophie narrowed her eyes, trying to glean all she could from the video.
He was sitting on a cream-colored couch. She could see that it was night through the window behind him. A constant flashing of neon signs in Chinese gave the location away: she recognized the familiar Hong Kong skyline at night, from a high-rise building.
“I’m recording,” Todd’s Aussie accent came through the audio.
“Well, it’s past time I cleared things up. I’m making this recording so it can be circulated for authentication, as I imagine what I have to say is not going to be well-received.”
Sophie felt a sense of familiarity looking at Sheldon Hamilton, though she was sure she’d never seen him before. Sophie kept her own facial mask in place as the video continued.
“I apologize for any inconvenience I’ve caused by my temporary disappearance. This recording serves as my legal affidavit transferring control of my shares of Security Solutions to Todd Remarkian. He is co-owner of our proprietary software, and will be taking over my role as president and CEO of Security Solutions.” Hamilton held up a printed document. “Todd, can you zoom in on this? I’ll fax it to you afterward.”
The camera focused in on an official-looking document. Hamilton pointed to the signatures at the bottom. “Signed, witnessed, and notarized. This document transfers ownership of my shares in Security Solutions to Todd Remarkian. Todd, you’ve been a good friend through all of this. I trust you to carry things forward. And now, I bid you all good-bye. I will be living abroad for the foreseeable future.”
