The Killing Hands

by P. D. Martin

  Dad holds both hands up in the air. “I’m not touching this one.”

  Mum shakes her head. “Your father and I both like him. We enjoyed spending that day and a half with him when we first got here.”

  I resist the urge to give her another Yes, Mum.

  “Bob?”

  Dad hesitates before saying, “He does seem like a real nice guy.”

  I give Dad a look, but he just shrugs.

  I give in…there’s no point pressing the point with Mum any more. Besides, Darren is a nice guy. I change the subject. “So fifteen minutes, then I’m all yours.”

  They both nod.

  Before I set up my Excel template, I scan the list. There are seventy-two names in total, including Agent Dan Young, under his alias of Marcus Miki, and Mee Kim—tae kwon do may be her favorite, but Mee is obviously very skilled in kung fu, too. Even though she’s in the Yakuza safe house, I’m glad she has the skills to protect herself, if necessary. Of course, a roundhouse kick can’t stop a bullet, but it can give you time to run, give you a head start.

  My initial columns include Name, Sex, Age, E-mail address, Phone number, State, Kung fu level, Teacher, School and Point of contact, even though I don’t have these details for every person. To this skeleton I add in my own columns—Criminal record and Prints on file. I’m about to close my laptop when the apartment buzzer rings.

  “I’ll get it,” I say.

  Looking at the video screen, I’m surprised to see Agent Hana Kim standing at the front gates, fidgeting. “Hi. Come up.” I buzz her in.

  A few minutes later she’s navigated her way through the corridors and to my front door.

  “Hi, Hana. What brings you here?”

  She gives me a tight smile, and her eyes flick over to my parents.

  “You remember my folks from the hospital. Bob and Jan Anderson.” Hana paid me a hospital visit on Thursday.

  “Yes, of course.” She comes in and gives them a nod. “Is there somewhere we can talk, Sophie? In private?”

  “Sure.”

  “We’ll go for a walk,” Dad volunteers. “It’s a nice day out anyway.”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to disturb you.” Hana shifts from foot to foot.

  Dad puts his hand on her shoulder. “It’s fine. Just take it easy on my girl, hey?” He smiles.

  “I’m so sorry…How are you feeling, Sophie?” Hana’s obviously embarrassed that she hasn’t asked the question sooner.

  “Better, thanks.”

  She smiles. “Good.”

  My parents leave and Hana’s silent for nearly a full minute. Finally, she says, “Sophie, I don’t quite know how to approach this….”

  “Go on.”

  “This is just between you and me, right?”

  My curiosity is aroused. Hana is being downright cagey. “I guess so, yes. Within reason, though, Hana.” If she’s about to confess she’s the mole, I’m hardly going to keep that to myself. “My duty’s to the FBI. The law.”

  “What? Oh, yes, of course. It’s nothing like that.”

  I feel my shoulders relax a little. “Shoot.” I take a seat on the sofa and she follows suit.

  “I don’t like the way Agent Petrov is running the search for Mee. He doesn’t seem to be doing anything. I feel like we’ve abandoned her. At least when you and Ramos were working the case, you were out there actively looking for her. We almost had her.”

  “The APB still stands, Hana,” I try to reassure her, despite knowing exactly why Petrov isn’t tying himself in knots looking for Mee. We have knowledge that Hana doesn’t.

  “But the APB’s getting us nowhere!” She shakes her head. “It’s been over a week since we visited her English students. And what’s Petrov done since then?”

  “I don’t know, Hana. Maybe he’s been calling the students, touching base with them.”

  She snorts. “No, I checked myself. They haven’t heard from anyone except me since we contacted them the day you and Ramos were shot. Nine days and what have we done…nothing.” Hana stands up and starts pacing. “Who knows what’s happening to her. Where she is…if she’s even still alive.”

  I take a deep breath, stalling. What can I say that will calm Hana down? Probably nothing. “Have you spoken to Petrov? Voiced your concerns?”

  “No.” Another long silence. “To be honest, Sophie, I’m not crazy about Agent Petrov. He seems so cold. Distant. I don’t think he cares about Mee or this case.”

  “It’s just his manner.”

  “Well, I don’t care for it.” She tucks her hair behind her ears, then shakes her head and flops onto the sofa.

  I bite my lip. “What about Agent De Luca? You’re close to him, right?”

  “I thought so, but Joe’s being strange. Every time I try to broach the subject with him, he closes me down. It’s not like him at all. He used to be interested in my opinion, but these days…”

  I wince. What can I say to her? I’ve only got one option—lie. “Leave it with me, Hana. I’ll talk to Petrov, maybe even Brady, and make sure Mee’s not forgotten in this.”

  She’s silent for a moment, and then says, “Thanks, Sophie. I knew you’d understand.”

  “Sure.”

  “And I’m sorry to bother you at home…when you’re still recovering.”

  “I’m fine, honestly. If it wasn’t for the stupid doctors, I’d be at work now. Actually, I think it’s probably my parents holding me back, not the doctors.”

  Hana laughs. “Your mum was funny at the hospital.”

  “Funny? That’s one way to put it.”

  When Hana visited me, Mum gave us five minutes alone then suddenly reappeared in the room and as soon as the conversation turned to the case, Mum told Hana it was time for me to rest.

  “You know she’s right, Sophie. You do need to rest.”

  “If I had a dime for every time she’s said, ‘Mother knows best’ in the last eight days I’d be a rich woman.”

  Hana laughs again. “Well, I hope you don’t get in trouble over my visit today.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  She stands up. “Thanks, Sophie. I really appreciate what you’re doing for Mee.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “Well, it’s a darn sight better than Petrov.”

  I walk Hana to the door. “What are your Christmas plans?”

  “My folks are staying with Jae and me for a couple of days. So it’s Christmas in our tiny apartment.”

  “You doing turkey and the works?”

  “Uh-huh. Plus some traditional Korean food, too.”

  “I bet your parents are proud of you.”

  She smiles. “Yeah. And looks like Jae will be following in my footsteps soon, too.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, she’s putting in her application for the DEA next year. As soon as she finishes college.” She smiles again. “See you next week, huh?”

  “Yup. Monday.” I’ll miss my parents when they’re gone, but I am looking forward to getting back to work, full-time.

  “Merry Christmas,” Hana says.

  “Merry Christmas.”

  I lean on the door once it’s closed. This could get complicated. Despite my sworn solidarity to Hana, I call Petrov straightaway.

  “Listen,” I tell him, “I just got a visit from Agent Kim. She’s concerned that we’re not doing enough to find Mee.”

  “We know where Mee is.”

  “Exactly. We do, but she doesn’t. From her point of view it looks like you’ve dropped the ball.”

  “That what she said?”

  “Not in so many words.”

  “Mmm…I’ve tried to avoid this…at each update I usually include something fictitious on what we’re doing to find Mee Kim. Plus I reassure Williams and Kim that if we can’t find Mee, chances are no one else can, either.”

  “Well, I think you need to step it up.” The apartment security-door phone buzzes. “Hold on, someone’s at the door.” A glance in the security vide
o shows a FedEx courier. I press the intercom and release the outer door. “Come on up.”

  “FedEx,” I say into my BlackBerry.

  “Should be the personnel files.”

  “Yup. I’m not expecting anything else.”

  “So, Hana.” Petrov brings us back to our immediate problem.

  “Problem is, she’s also called up some of Mee’s students to double-check on our efforts. She speaks Korean, and she has ties with the community. Maybe we’re making her look bad.” I open my front door and wait. “They’re relying on her to find Mee.”

  “I see what you mean. But I don’t want to put resources into a fictitious search. We’re short enough as is.”

  “I hear you, Petrov.” The FedEx guy comes around the corner, parcel in hand. “Hold on.”

  “Sophie Anderson?”

  “Yup.”

  He gives me the envelope and holds out a digital signature pad. “Have a nice day.”

  I sign and give him a smile. “Thanks, you, too.” I close the door and open the FedEx envelope. “I’m looking at the personnel files now.” I flick open the large folder. On top is a photo of Special Agent Jeremy Acorn from the DEA. I flick through the pages on him, and quickly see that Petrov’s included a photo, summary information, plus detailed information on Acorn, including employment history, finance checks, arrests, associates—the works.

  “Careful with the folder, huh? It’d be a pain in the ass to have to compile that info again.”

  “Sure thing.” I place the folder on the dining table. I know it’d be more than a pain in the ass—I don’t need to be told to guard the folder with my life. Not only does it contain very personal information about each of the task force members, information I shouldn’t have access to, but if someone else discovered the detailed level of the records, they’d deduce we were looking for a mole. And if the mole found the records, they’d know we were on to them.

  “Anyway, you need to do something about Hana. You either trust her and tell her what’s going on, or you have to pretend you’re trying a little harder to find Mee.”

  “Okay. Leave it with me. I’ll try to get creative.” Sounds like Hana won’t be entering the inner circle. Not today at least.

  Twenty-Five

  As I’d suspected, Christmas Day was a write-off in terms of work. However, the full day off seems to have done me good because I’m feeling better. It might be time to renegotiate my two and a half hours a day with Dad. Plus, I’ve only got five days left before I officially start back at the office, and lots to do. I’ve got to work on Lee’s list, chase Rodriguez for the list of Chinese nationals, take a good look through the Gang Impact Team’s personnel files and draft the offender profile over the weekend, so I can brief everyone first thing Monday morning. And that’s not even taking into consideration the fact that I now know Jun Saito didn’t kill his girlfriend fifteen years ago. That he was on the run from someone else—not from the police and a homicide charge. But how am I going to present that possibility to the team?

  “I’m feeling heaps better today,” I say to Mum and Dad over breakfast.

  “That’s great news, honey.” Mum puts her hand on top of mine. “Your color’s finally returning.”

  I nod slowly, and then start playing with my fruit salad. “I was thinking of popping into work. Or maybe just spending a little more time on the case over the next few days.”

  “You’ll be back Monday. That’s soon enough. And it is doctor’s orders.”

  “But, Mum, I’ve got so much to do.”

  “You’ve been working from home, Sophie. Isn’t that enough?” She leans back in her seat and gives me a disapproving look.

  “A couple of hours each day. That’s nothing. And I need to draft the profile. For that, I need a solid block of time.”

  “We leave on Friday…can’t it wait until then?”

  Good question. I guess the profile could wait until the weekend—I’d have it ready for my first day back. But I still need to work on Lee’s list, the info from the US State Department when it comes through and the mole. I want to get things moving faster, and increase our chances of getting Mee out from under the Yakuza’s guard. They may be protecting her, and I know Agent Dan Young is keeping an eye on her, but they’re still a violent organized-crime syndicate—Mee’s a rabbit in a lion’s den.

  “We need to find the missing woman.”

  She sighs but her eyes soften slightly. “I don’t know, honey…”

  I give her my best smile, accompanied by a pleading look.

  Another sigh. “I guess you are looking a little better.”

  “I feel good, Mum. Honest. Why don’t you and Dad get some shopping in? You’ve only got a couple of days left and I know you’d love to buy some new clothes and shoes.”

  Dad stands up. “Don’t encourage her, Soph.”

  Mum gives him a whack on the arm. “You stay here. You can work on Sophie’s kitchen.” Dad’s not allowed anywhere near Mum’s kitchen.

  “It’s a rental, guys. You can’t ‘work on it,’” I point out.

  “I just want to put a new tea-towel rack in and fix that cupboard door. And the bathroom tap,” Dad says.

  “Trust me, honey, it’ll keep him out from under your feet.”

  I laugh. “Okay.”

  Half an hour later, Mum’s gone and Dad and I are both tapping away—me on my keyboard and Dad on the kitchen cupboard’s hinges. Once I’ve transposed everything from Lee’s handwritten notes into my Excel spreadsheet, I log in to the FBI’s system, jumping through the Bureau’s security hoops. When I’m in, I start looking up each name to fill out my extra two columns: Criminal record and Fingerprints on file.

  By 3:00 p.m. I’m just under a third of the way through the list, and I do have a few interesting names. Of the twenty-two names I’ve run to date, only four people have a criminal record. Two were for auto theft, one for small-time credit-card fraud and one assault charge. We have prints for these four men on file, plus prints on another ten in total—some are teachers and the others are government employees, including one ex-marine, one guy who’s currently a captain in the army, two police officers and two FBI agents. I note these down with a Yes in the Fingerprints on file column. It’s time to touch base with Petrov—and maybe the rest of the team.

  “Hey, Petrov. It’s Anderson. How about a quick update meeting?”

  “Not much going on this end.”

  “I’ve got the names back from Lee. Thought maybe I should keep everyone in the loop.”

  “Remember, Anderson. You’re not back until Monday.”

  “I know. It’s just a list.”

  He sighs. “Okay. I’ve given everyone the day off today, but I’ll organize a teleconference.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Twenty minutes later, we’ve all dialed in, ready to start. When the last beep announces De Luca has joined us, Petrov kicks it off.

  “So, Anderson’s got a quick update for us.”

  I thank Petrov and fill the team in on my progress with the list from Lee.

  “Even though we believe the hit man is from overseas, we don’t want to develop tunnel vision on this thing.” Petrov’s in sync with my thoughts. I always consider that we’re the good guys, on the side of justice. But I know that sometimes law enforcement gets it wrong, imprisons the wrong person. There are lots of reasons this can happen, but tunnel vision from cops or other law-enforcement personnel working the case is one of the big ones. You end up convincing yourself that the evidence fits your suspect, even when it doesn’t. Or the case goes unsolved because you couldn’t open yourself up to other possibilities.

  “It’s a pity we don’t have more on the guys that abducted you,” Williams says. “They may have been able to lead us to the employer or the hit man.”

  “Dead men don’t talk.” Unfortunately.

  “Who wants to help Anderson with the list?”

  Hana volunteers.

  “Okay, you two stay on line on
ce we’re done and work it out.”

  “Anything else? Any luck chasing down a connection between Li Chow and the killer, Williams?”

  “Not so far. Although Li Chow did grow up in China—he immigrated here at age fourteen—so it’s possible he met or knew our hit man in his childhood.”

  “Anderson, do you think that cop in Beijing could help us on this one?” Petrov asks.

  “Sure,” I say. “I’ll see what he’s got on Chow.”

  Petrov clears his throat. “It’s probably easier to work backward…once we have a suspect we can see if they crossed paths here or in China. But let’s see what Beijing can turn up.” He pauses. “The only other item then is Mee. I’m putting two agents with missing-persons expertise on her search. My gut still tells me she’s safe—if we can’t find her no one else can—but it’s also time to step up our search for her.” Another pause, then Petrov asks, “Anything else?”

  We all respond in the negative.

  “Okay, let’s enjoy the rest of the day off. Anderson, we’ll see you Monday and I’ll see the rest of you guys tomorrow.”

  “I’ll stay on the line to find out about your list, Sophie.”

  “Sure, Hana.”

  We wait a couple of minutes until there’s silence.

  “You there?” Hana asks.

  “Yup.”

  “Thanks, Sophie. For Mee.”

  “No worries.”

  “So, the list.”

  If Hana’s the mole and knows who the killer is, I shouldn’t let her anywhere near this list. And if I do let her follow up the names, I can’t be sure the information she passes on to me will be correct. But this is the way we have to play it, at least for the moment.

  “How do you want to work it?” she asks.

  “Split it down the middle, I’ll take the first half and you can take the second.”

  “Awesome.”

  “Don’t get too excited. It’s pretty boring.”

  “I don’t mind. I’d rather be looking for Mee, but it makes sense that Petrov’s assigned people with missing-persons expertise.”