Wi grabbed her head with his other hand. He had a rock-solid grip. He pulled her head forward and down as he brought his knee straight up, crushing into her face and knocking her out completely. Her body collapsed like a lifeless rag doll.
Chapter 116
We heard another scream when we returned to the kitchen. It sounded like it came from under the metal doors.
I started to yell. “Leslie! Leslie! We’re here!”
Kang motioned to the metal storage doors in the floor.
“Over here. Help me get these open.”
We each grabbed a hold of one of the doors and lifted it open. Wooden stairs pointed the way into a dimly lit room below. Kang’s gun led the way.
When I got below I found myself in a space no bigger than six by eight feet. “What is this? Storage? Where is she?” I said.
Kang and I could have sworn we heard the scream come from here, but it was empty. No Leslie.
“There,” Kang pointed, “Behind the shelving.”
He began moving the metal shelves.
“Help me get this out of the way.”
Once we cleared the wall, there in plain view was the outline of a door, minus a doorknob. Kang pushed on the door and it swung open revealing a tiny passage way.
I didn’t have to bend too far over but Kang had to crouch quite a bit to move through it. Score one for the short man.
The commotion we heard earlier disappeared. It was quiet. No signs of a struggle. No screaming.
At the end of the tunnel were two doors opposite each other.
“She’s behind one of these doors,” Kang whispered.
“So now what?”
“We each take one.”
We? “We? You have the gun. I don’t.”
“I know, but right now we have the element of surprise on our side.”
Where’s the Russian when you need him? I didn’t like the idea of busting down a door and facing God knows what, but I wanted to rescue Leslie. I took the left door and Kang took the right.
Kang reached into his coat jacket and pulled out a tiny canister. “Here, take this. It’s pepper spray.”
“Thanks. I feel better now.”
“You should. That spray can drop a three hundred-pound man.”
With my luck, this guy will be three hundred fifty pounds. I positioned myself in front of the door.
“On the count of three, we both kick at the door,” Kang said.
I watched as he motioned. One… Two… Three…
When he entered the room, Kang said he saw nothing at first. But then his eyes caught a hint of movement off to the side. He said he swung around, gun out in front. Whatever it was, it was now heading straight for him, fast. He had no choice. He fired, twice.
The rat was the size of a small cat. There wasn’t much left of the poor creature. Kang struck it both times. He said he then searched the small room––it was empty.
You know what that means?
My door flew open just as easily. But I didn’t have to search the room. Standing right in front of me was Mr. Fu. Except he looked nothing like the Fu I knew. He was breathing hard. Spit sprayed out of his mouth with every breath. His eyes were dark and trained on me. They radiated pure evil. There was no good inside of this man.
Blood covered much of his face, but it was too dark to tell if it was his or Leslie’s. In his right hand he held the cleaver. It was bloody. Was that my answer?
The two of us stood there, staring at each other for ages.
And then like a bolt of lightning he came to life. His mouth was wide open as he ran toward me shouting his battle cry. The cleaver was raised high above his head, intent on sinking right into my skull.
I aimed the spray canister straight at Mr. Fu and pressed down.
Nothing happened.
I pressed again. Still nothing. The button was stuck. It wouldn’t go down. Goddammit. Kang!
Before I knew it. Mr. Fu was on top of me. I twisted my torso and side-stepped as best I could––it was all I could do. It was enough. The cleaver missed my face and shoulder by mere centimeters.
Mr. Fu tripped on my left foot and went to the ground. But like a Ninja warrior master he rolled with it and landed back on his feet in one fluid motion. He came at me once again. I backed up and tripped on something, falling on my back. He was already coming down on me.
I raised both of my hands. My only hope was to catch his arm as he struck. I knew the consequences if I missed.
His right arm came down at an angle, the blade of the cleaver neatly lined up with my neck. I held my hands out and grabbed for his forearm. Before I knew it, I had his forearm tightly in my grasp but there was no pressure, as if his arm went limp, like a noodle in my grip.
And then Mr. Fu fell to his knees. Had I not been holding him up by his arm, he would have gone straight to the ground.
I looked up and saw Kang standing in the doorway, gun out in front. He had shot Mr. Fu twice in the back. I never heard him pull the trigger.
Chapter 117
For the second time in her life, Leslie found herself waking up in a room she didn’t recognize. With her vision blurred, all she could register was a lot of white. Maybe I’m in heaven.
She blinked the sleep out of her eyes and a dark blob off to the side revealed itself to be Detective Kang. He sat motionless on a brown wooden chair. The Chronicle lay folded on his lap. His head tilted downward as he snored ever so lightly. It was comforting to have a fellow officer at her side, even if she wasn’t sure where she was. The last thing she remembered was disfiguring Wi’s face with her fists. She wasn’t about to forget that. That was one for the memory books. It was what came after that got fuzzy.
Pain shot through her entire body when she tried to sit up. It felt like every muscle in her body had run its own triathlon. Her left arm was bandaged. It was tender to the touch. Collateral damage.
Leslie sucked it up and took the pain as she swung her legs off the side of the bed. It hurt like hell. But she was intent on getting some caffeine and skipping out. Her movement woke Detective Kang.
“You’re awake,” he said, wiping his eyes.
“How long have I been here? What happened?” she asked, struggling to stand.
Kang was quickly out of the chair and by her side. “No, no, stay in bed, you’re injured and you need rest.”
Leslie didn’t put up much of a fight and lay back down on the bed.
“Is he dead?”
“Yes.”
“He was the killer.”
“A search of the storage space where he was holding you produced Sulyn’s iPod,” he said, nodding. “How did you know it was him?”
“I didn’t. He came after me. Only after he had me in that death room did I start to put the pieces together.”
Leslie gave Kang the run down on who Mr. Fu really was.
“But, Leslie, the one thing I don’t understand is why after all these years of being a peaceful man running a restaurant would Fu, or this Wi person, suddenly turn into a cold-blooded murderer?”
“He didn’t. Back when he was living in Hong Kong, there was a rash of gruesome killings that took place over the course of five years. Wi was that killer. The police were finally catching up with him. In a desperate attempt to escape, he faked his death and assumed Fu’s identity.”
“But these were gang-related killings right? What happened here was a string of calculated murders by a serial killer.”
“Not all of them were gang related. This is where it gets interesting. Wi started killing innocent people for little or no reason. That’s because deep down inside, Wi is truly a serial killer. He was able to mask his ways with the perfect day job: enforcer for the Wo Shing Wo.”
“So the Wi side of him went dormant when he assumed the personality of Mr. Fu. I guess twenty years of pretending to be someone else can make you forget who you are.”
“You guessed right. Interestingly enough, I still don’t know what prompted the monster to reawak
en. Something or someone must have pushed the right button to kick start the memories, the feelings…the appetite.”
They were silent until Kang remembered the package. “This is for you,” he said. “It was delivered to the precinct the other day.”
Leslie took the FedEx envelope and looked at the address.
“It’s from my superiors. A week ago they told me to wrap this up and get back. There’s a lot fighting between the local Triads. These must be the files to get me up to speed.”
Leslie ripped open the package and started emptying out the contents. There were reports, newspaper clippings and photos. Leslie picked up the photos and started to flip through them. She didn’t get very far thanks to a nurse entering the room and demanding she get back into bed.
“I’m sorry, but you need to rest.” The nurse took the photos from Leslie and shoved them, along with everything else, back into the package.
“I can rest later. I’ve got work to do.”
“It’ll have to wait,” the nurse said firmly.
Leslie didn’t bother fighting her too much. Her head was starting to spin. She gave in and lay back in bed.
One of the photos escaped the nurse and slipped under Leslie’s bed unnoticed. It was a photo of a bunch of men congregating outside of a restaurant. Standing in the center of the group was Darby Stansfield.
Chapter 118
Leslie was sleeping when I returned from my coffee run to the hospital cafeteria. It had been a good six hours from the time we’d found her.
“Where’s Sokolov?” I asked as I handed Kang his coffee.
“He has relatives arriving from Moscow.”
“He’s––how can I say this? He’s very Russian, isn’t he?”
Kang chuckled, “You noticed.”
“It’s hard not to.”
“Sokolov loves his Russian ancestry. He will never forget it.”
“I don’t doubt that…” I tilted my head toward Leslie. “How’s she doing?”
“She woke for a bit.”
“She say anything?”
“She was able to fill in the missing pieces of the story. And you’ll appreciate this: She was eager to get back to work.”
“That’s so her.”
“She needs more rest as you can see. If you don’t mind, I’d like to get back to the office and finish my report now.”
“Thanks for your help, Detective Kang. I appreciate it.”
After Kang left the room, I turned to Leslie. Even with the side of her face bruised, she looked angelic in the bed. A fragile beauty I wished I could have protected better.
The rise and fall of her chest gently lifted the sheet as she slept. Her black hair lay sprayed out against the pillow like a peacock’s tail. It amazed me. Someone as petite and as beautiful as she was had just kicked the crap out of a serial killer––all five feet, three inches of her.
Drinking my hot, bitter coffee, I noticed a photograph under her bed. I picked it up and nearly spit a mouthful onto Leslie. It was a picture of me hanging out with the Fan Gang. It was clear as day. No mistaking the white man this time.
Did she see this picture? Did she know? Did Kang know? He didn’t say anything or act any differently.
I looked back at Leslie, who was still sound asleep. I quietly folded the picture and tucked it into my pocket. That’s when I noticed the FedEx envelope on the table. I snatched it and peeked inside. There were more photos. I started flipping through them waiting for the punch in the gut––none so far.
And suddenly there I was. One after another I appeared in the photos talking to Sing and Chu. There must have been about seven photos with a clear shot of my mug.
“Hey, are you playing Detective now?”
I looked up and found Leslie staring at me.
Chapter 119
“Now I’m going to have to kill you.”
“Huh?”
Leslie laughed and groaned at the same time. “A joke. But seriously, that’s classified information. You’re not supposed to be looking at it.”
“I was curious. I mean, you single-handedly caught San Francisco’s serial killer. I wanted to know more about this kickass detective I was dating.”
Leslie laughed, “Well you won’t find anything about that in there. It’s for a different case I need to get up to speed on.”
“A new case back in Hong Kong?”
“Yes, now put that stuff down. I’m serious, Darby. Put it away and come over here.”
I slipped the photos back into the package. “Is it for the turf war you mentioned before?”
“Yes.”
“What did you find?”
“Is that all you have to say to a poor old me lying here in a hospital bed?
I leaned over and gave her a kiss. I gently picked up her black and blue hand and caressed it. “Sorry,” I said. “Seriously, how do you feel? The doctors said you were knocked around quite a bit but should recover quickly with the exception of that nasty knife wound on your arm.”
Leslie fingered her bandage. “Is that what this is?”
“Yeah. It took seventeen stitches to close it up.”
“Hmmm, I don’t remember getting cut.”
It hit me hard. Someone who I actually cared about and who cared about me came very close to dying today. I never experienced such an emotion. It made me want Leslie even more. It made me think about others around me who could disappear just like that. I leaned in closer and hugged Leslie. I needed to feel that she was alive. I needed to know that she wasn’t going anywhere soon.
“Mmmm, I like this attention. Perhaps I should fight more serial killers.”
“I’m glad you’re okay.”
“I’ll survive. I always do.”
Such a tough girl she was, playing off her battle scars. Always putting up a front. But I knew that deep down inside, she was still human and needed comfort. I held her close for a long time.
“You know, it’s all over the news,” I said after awhile.
“What is?” Leslie mumbled.
“The serial killer being caught. You’re a hero in this city.”
“Well it’s not like I volunteered for the job. I was kidnapped, beaten, and facing death. My choices were limited.”
“I still can’t believe Mr. Fu was a killer. All this time I’ve been eating chop suey cooked by a serial killer.” Is it contagious? My mind played back over the time I spent with him on our trip to Hong Kong. I intentionally invited this psychopath with me. And I paid for it all. He could have easily killed me. Why didn’t he? The police activity I witnessed in Hong Kong––was that a murder investigation? I felt sick in my stomach. I was so mad at myself. How stupid could I be? “This could have easily been me. I could have been his next victim.”
“I don’t think so, Darby.”
“Why?”
“Well for starters you didn’t fit his M.O.”
“Neither did you.”
“True but there’s something you don’t know about my past.”
I was completely dumbfounded when she explained it to me. “This sounds like something only Hollywood could make up,” I told her.
And then I remembered the meeting between Mr. Fu and Li Li. He said it did not go well. Gee, I wonder why, since it wasn’t even the right guy. I had thought I was doing a good thing but instead I did the complete opposite. I desperately felt the need to apologize and explain to Li Li what happened. I hoped she would understand.
I tuned back into Leslie’s story. “But how could he have known you were who you were, or why didn’t you recognize him at first? I mean, after all those years…”
“I did think there was something strange about him, but at the time I wasn’t connecting the dots. I didn’t really give it any more thought. But Wi made the connection right away. He was very open about it when he had me tied up. He made sure I understood who he was and why I was there. He felt like he should have gotten rid of me way back then. I was unfinished business.”
“H
e definitely made a mistake not killing you back then.”
“He also kept tabs on me throughout the years in case I decided to come back and get my revenge.”
“And did you? Does it feel that way?” I studied her face.
“I always thought if I could, I would feel a heavy weight lifted off of my shoulders––that closure would finally put an end to this open chapter in my life.”
“Does it make you feel better?”
Leslie smiled at me. “It does.”
As Leslie lay in my arms, I couldn’t help but think of the package of guilt on the table. What of it did Leslie know? I was beginning to think she wasn’t aware of my involvement. But still, I wondered if could I talk my way out of it if need be. Would she understand? We were close, but surely not close enough for this.
“I feel safe now,” murmured Leslie as she snuggled closer. “I don’t want to leave. I want you to hold me forever.”
“Sure, let me get my detective’s license and then I’ll be able to hold you at all hours of the day.”
“Will you be heading back to Hong Kong anytime soon?”
“Tav and I actually have plans to head back in a few days.”
“Tavish?”
“Yeah he’s coming along to hammer out some financial aspects with the company and it’s a way to put a face to the voice. It’s important our clients feel comfortable with us. We’re close to wrapping things up.”
“I see. You know that day I first met you, down at the docks?”
“Yeah.”
“Why were you down there? I mean, it’s not known as a center for business or tourism. Actually, it’s really a bed of illegal activity.”
“Well, if it’s such a bed of illegal activity, then what were you doing down there, missy?”
“Dead body…Inspector…Investigation,” Leslie said wryly.
“Sorry, I keep forgetting what you actually do when you go to work.”
Why was Leslie mentioning this? Again my Spidey senses were kicking in.
Darby Stansfield Thriller Series (Books 1-3 & Bonus Novella) Page 25
