Debt Collector - Reborn (Book 3 of a Jack Winchester Action Thriller) (Jack Winchester Vigilante Justice Thriller Series)

by Jon Mills

  John looked solemnly down at his toast. There was nothing he could say. He knew full well that some things could not be negotiated. If they could, wars would never occur.

  Some men could only be stopped with a bullet.

  Chapter 30

  Why the hell were the FBI getting involved?

  Deon stared into his captain’s office at the attractive female agent, and her half-wit sidekick. The guy had already spilled coffee all over the captain’s desk. Captain Mack Riley had a look of frustration on his face on a good day but now he looked as if he was about to go nuclear.

  “Don’t keep him waiting,” Trish said.

  Deon swallowed hard and stepped inside.

  “Close the door, Smith,” he bellowed before turning his attention back to the table where he was soaking up the black liquid with paper.

  “I’m so sorry,” the guy said.

  “It’s okay, just take a seat.”

  Mack’s face was a deep shade of red. He’d get this one vein that would stick out the front of his forehead when shit got real bad. Deon could see it throbbing.

  “Smith, these are agents Baker and Cooper.”

  The woman stood up and shook his hand. Her hand was soft but her grip firm as if she was overcompensating for her small frame. Cooper extended his hand but it was wet. Deon looked down at it. Cooper apologized by wiping it on his own jacket.

  Very professional.

  “What’s this about?”

  “The recent shooting down at Unified Rescue Mission. You brought in someone by the name of Jack Winchester.”

  The very name made him blow out his cheeks. This guy was starting to become a pain in his rear end.

  “That’s right.”

  “Do you know his whereabouts?”

  “I wish I did, I’m trying to find him too.”

  “May I ask why?”

  “Last night we had five guys killed, as well as a female over at the Madison.”

  “And you think he’s connected because?”

  “Two of them were in his room, one outside and two below his fire escape. Besides, I saw him on the roof.”

  “And you didn’t bring him in?” Cooper asked.

  Deon tossed him a look. “For an FBI agent you’re not very bright, are you?”

  “Smith!” Mack bellowed.

  “Sorry. It’s been a long night.”

  “That’s okay, I get it. No one likes the FBI showing up on their doorstep.”

  That wasn’t exactly true. In most cases, seeing the FBI was a welcome relief. There would always be cops who thought they were stepping on their toes but for the most part they were helpful to have around.

  “Do you mind telling us how you came to meet him?”

  “Maybe you can take them out, get them a coffee or something. While you’re at it, bring me some paper towels for god’s sake.” Mack was still struggling to wipe up the mess that covered half his desk.

  Outside, Deon led them into the lunchroom. It was basic. Two vending machines, a table, and a few chairs with a fridge. While the coffee machine dispensed a thick black sludge into a plastic cup he enquired as to their interest in Winchester.

  “Right now, it’s just circumstantial evidence but it’s related to gangland killings in New York.”

  “Yeah, I saw that he had quite a record on him.”

  “And yet you still let him go?”

  “I had no reason to hold him.”

  “For a cop, you’re not every bright, are you?” she said with a smirk. “What about the shooting down at the mission? That seemed like a good enough reason.”

  Deon handed her a cup, then pressed another button. A second cup popped down and began filling up.

  “If I held someone for every single person that kicks off down at the mission, I would have half of Skid Row in a jail. I’ve been working alongside the mission for years now and there were enough witnesses to verify what happened.”

  “Let me guess, the weapons were unregistered,” Agent Baker said while roaming the room like she owned it.

  “That’s right.”

  “But he shot two people.”

  “Self-defense. First day on the job as a security officer.”

  “So you looked over his paperwork?”

  Deon wasn’t going to reply to that. Okay, he’d taken John’s word for it. He’d never given him reason to doubt anything. He was the most stand-up guy he knew.

  “Look, what are you hoping to find?” Deon asked.

  “It’s not as much what we are hoping to find as it is who.”

  “So even if you do locate him. You think he’s going to give up information on something that occurred three months ago in New York?”

  “No, I don’t. But I want to hear it from him. See his face.”

  “That’s right, she’s one hell of a human lie detector,” Cooper said grinning as he picked up his coffee, then nearly dropped it.

  “Well, I hope you like waiting around because if we find him, you are going to have to wait because he is going to have to do some explaining for what occurred last night.”

  Agent Baker took a seat and crossed her legs. She was wearing dark pants, stockings below that, and black shoes. Sensible. Flat. She undid the one button on her suit jacket and he caught sight of her sidearm. She leaned forward to wipe some muck off the front of her shoe and he caught sight of her breast beneath the white blouse.

  “How long you been with the FBI?” he asked.

  “Not long.”

  “Before that?”

  “A detective.”

  “Look, all I can tell you is that he showed up down at the mission. Your best bet is to talk with John Dalton, though it’s not going to do you much good. I’ve already spoken with him and he hasn’t seen Jack since he disappeared with a kid.”

  “A kid?” She paused right before she was about to take a drink.

  “Yeah, they take in all kinds of people off the streets. Occasionally they get Chinese folks who have been illegally smuggled into the country. Zhang Cho was the kid the men were trying to take when Jack shot them.”

  “And he’s gone missing, you say?” Cooper asked.

  “Same day Jack did.”

  Agent Baker set her cup down on the side table.

  “These Chinese. Who’s bringing them in?”

  “We can’t prove it right now but it’s believed a man by the name of Sheng Ping is running the operation. He runs a whole bunch of restaurants and massage parlors in Chinatown. A couple of clubs as well.”

  She took one more swig of her drink, tossed the cup into the bin, and the remaining coffee splashed up against the side.

  “Then let’s go have a word with him.”

  “Best of luck there.”

  “You aren’t going to tell me he’s gone missing?”

  Deon nodded. She walked up to Deon and patted him on the chest.

  “That’s a whole lot of missing people, or some real sloppy police work. Get me the address for Sheng Ping’s establishments.”

  “You need a warrant.”

  “Not to order lunch, you don’t.”

  Chapter 31

  “Don’t do this, Jack.”

  John Dalton had been trying to talk him out of it for the past hour but he wasn’t making any headway. It was going to be a bloodbath if he went in there guns blazing. He couldn’t fathom that anyone would be ballsy enough to even contemplate the idea of taking on the Triads.

  “If you cut off the head of the snake it will just keep on doing what it’s always done.”

  “You told me you were trying to change your life.”

  “I am.”

  “By killing more?”

  Jack was in the middle of checking what he had in terms of weapons inside the duffel bag. He had a sawed-off Mossberg 500 pump-action. He pulled it out and started loading it with two-and-three-quarter-inch shells. It took six of them.

  “You’re a religious man, John. Even God had an angel of death.”

  He w
atched him loading the rounds from underneath.

  “That was different. It was justified killing.”

  “Was it?” Jack shot back before placing the gun back into the bag. Inside were two grenades. Jack pulled out a Desert Eagle. The magazine was empty.

  “Gonna need some more ammo. You think you could do a run for me?”

  He said it so natural as if he’d run out of butter or milk.

  This was insane. He’d never seen anything like it. The thought of calling Deon had crossed his mind multiple times. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t. He was conflicted about it all. On one hand he knew violence was never the answer, and yet had Jack not been there the day those men came into the mission, he along with others may have wound up dead.

  “What about INS? If we call them—”

  “—they will get the kids? He’s already paying them.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “Because I’ve worked for men like him. They don’t remain in business long without lining the pockets of those around them. I don’t like this any more than you. I wish there was another way but there isn’t. This man, Sheng Ping. His men have killed and they will kill again. I could turn the other cheek, sure I could. But you can be damn sure they won’t and when other people’s lives are at stake, extreme measures are required.”

  “But the police.”

  Jack looked as if he was growing impatient with his constant bombardment of questions.

  “If the police could have stopped them, don’t you think they would have done it by now?”

  John thought back to what Deon had said about the unsuccessful raid.

  “They can see them coming a mile away. The only way to fight fire is with fire.”

  Karen had interrupted them several times.

  “There are several messages from Deon, John.”

  “I’ll get to them later.”

  “It sounded pretty urgent.”

  “I’ll do it when I’m ready,” he bellowed back, then suddenly felt guilty for shouting. He wasn’t sure what bothered him most about this. Seeing a man who could have turned his life around, justify his reasons for killing or the fact that he was right. These kind of men would never be stopped by the justice system or a quick phone call to the police. How many times had the police or INS tried to shut down their operation? Sure they had put a dent in business, and slowed things down by impounding cargo and detaining illegal immigrants, but they couldn’t stop Sheng. And it was him that needed to be stopped.

  He’d watched an endless cycle of immigrants come through his door wanting help. None of them were turned away but within days they were gone. Taken by Sheng Ping’s men. The law tied even Deon’s hands. The need for warrants meant Sheng had time to sink below the surface without even creating a ripple.

  “I can’t be a part of this.”

  “I understand.”

  “It goes completely against what I believe.”

  He was in the middle of talking when Karen came back into the room.

  “Can I have a minute of your time?”

  Her eyes darted between them.

  “I’m not done, Jack,” John said.

  “I didn’t expect you would be,” he replied.

  John left the room frustrated. Karen led him into a separate room with French doors. She closed them behind her as if to make sure no one could hear.

  “What the hell is going on?”

  “I can explain.”

  “Well, you have less than one minute before I pick up the phone and call Deon. I don’t understand you, John. You bring home a man with guns and wounds. Don’t you care about us?”

  He sighed. He did not need this now. Of course he cared and was concerned about their safety. If he’d had anywhere else he could have brought Jack, he would have taken him there. The mission would have been the first place Sheng’s men would have come looking for him, never mind the cops. He was liable to end up in trouble either way. At least here he could try and talk him out of it. Get him to see reason.

  “He’s leaving today.”

  “You bet your ass he is. I want him gone, John. Now.”

  John heard the sound of the door close. He slid open the French doors.

  “Jack?”

  There was no answer. He ambled into the dining room and saw that both Jack and his bag were gone. Turning fast, he ran to the door and flung it open. Walking off down the driveway was Jack.

  “Jack. Hold up.”

  He stopped.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I can’t do this to your family. Your wife is right. It’s not safe with me around.”

  “Don’t worry about Karen, she tends to get a little hotheaded over anything.”

  “No. She’s right, John. Listen to her.”

  He turned to walk away then stopped just for a second. “Thank you, John Dalton.”

  “Do you even know where to start?”

  “Yeah,” he said pulling out the card that Zhang had given him.

  John saw the white lettering against the black.

  “The China Doll.”

  Chapter 32

  Isabel arrived at the China Doll later that evening. Lunch at the Red Dragon had yielded very little. No one seemed to know where Sheng Ping was. With so many establishments owned by him, he could be anywhere. A waitress had given the name of one of his nightclubs. Deon confirmed it was one that catered to several hundred on any given night. A strip joint, dance club, and restaurant. It was known to provide lap dances and all manner of sexual activity if you had the right amount of money.

  “Where are you going with this?” Cooper asked.

  “It’s good ole police work, Cooper. Watch and pay attention, maybe you will learn a thing or two.”

  “You do know I have four years on you.”

  “Sure. But years mean nothing if you haven’t managed to catch anyone.”

  “I’ve caught my fair share.”

  “No, the New York FBI office has. Yeah, I looked up your details.”

  “Why?”

  “Do you think I would have agreed to work alongside you if I didn’t?”

  A pink glow came from the neon sign above the door. A line of patrons huddled together waiting to be let in by two hulking doormen. Both looked like they had spent their entire life eating through all the buffets in Chinatown.

  Strains of music came from beyond the doors. The windows were blacked out.

  “Get back behind the rope,” one of them yelled at a group who had obviously drunk too much and were becoming unruly.

  “Fuck you,” a white guy said acting all cocky. In a matter of a few seconds he would regret saying that. He was knocked to the ground, the Chinese man looming over him.

  “Alright, we’re going. Fucking place is shit anyway.”

  He and three others walked off cursing. It was the typical shit that was to be seen around clubs in any city. People tanked up with liquid courage. All mouth and nothing to back it up.

  When both of them reached the front of the line the doorman looked them up and down. She gave him their names and he flipped through the list in his hand. He eyed them again suspiciously and motioned for them to enter.

  The doors cracked open and dry ice smoke seeped out. The beat of music made her body vibrate. As they passed by numerous people in all states of intoxication, some looked on while others were too high to notice them.

  Cooper leaned over to Isabel. “Did you ever come to places like this before you became a cop?”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “You want to say that a little louder so everyone can hear?”

  “Oh please, no one can hear a damn thing in this place.”

  He was probably right. The music was playing at earsplitting volume. Why on earth they felt the need to have it so damn loud was beyond her. They threaded their way through the mass of bodies pressing up against each other. All types came here. It wasn’t strictly Chinese. Young guys draped over women, hoping to score a home run. Women sat huddled togeth
er laughing and pointing at their friends on the dance floor. All ages gyrated against each other like bees trying to pick up pollen. Behind the bar three bartenders worked their magic tossing bottles in the air and filling shot glasses. The club was tiered with a dance floor on the bottom level. Several large glittering balls reflected green, yellow, blue, and red light all around the place.

  Cooper ordered two cocktails while Isabel scanned the room. Deon had given them a photo of Sheng Ping. The chances of locating him were slim. If he was around, he was likely in a VIP section out of sight.

  A sleazy-looking guy in a suit came up to her and tried to work her like she was desperate.

  “You look thirsty, here have a taste.”

  “Fuck off.”

  “What?” He leaned in cupping a hand to his ear. She grabbed his balls hard and twisted them. His eyes widened and his mouth went into a guppy O-shape.

  “Turn around and go crawl back under the rock you came out from,” she replied.

  He winced and nodded fast. She released her grip and he walked off muttering to himself, no doubt calling her a bitch. It was a common tactic for guys to buy drinks and spike them. In a place like this no one would be alarmed to see someone leave in a drunken state. It was just business as usual.

  Cooper returned with two drinks. “I see you are making friends with the locals. Now I can see why you are single.”

  “I’m single because I’m too busy for bullshit.”

  “Bullshit. With an attitude like that you will never meet someone.” He sipped his exotic drink with a pink umbrella in it, looking like a yuppie from Wall Street. Isabel nursed hers while she continued scanning the faces.

  “You know you can let your hair down once in a while. You don’t have to be so uptight all the time. Hell, we get paid to do this, you might as well enjoy yourself.”

  She glared at him. He raised a hand as if he understood that he was stepping over an invisible line, one that was liable to get his nuts twisted.

  “I’m just saying. When was the last time you actually enjoyed yourself outside of work?”

  “I’d need a life outside of work,” she replied without looking.

  “My point exactly. It’s not good for a woman like you to be so career driven. I mean, don’t take that the wrong way. It’s good and all to pursue advancement but it just means taking on more shit. Believe me, I could have moved up the ladder a few years ago but screw that. The pay increase would have been shit, and I would have taken more crap and well… I wouldn’t be here doing this.”