Albert watched them as they hurried up the stairs before heading into the kitchen. His wife, Connie, stood in front of the stove, using a wooden spoon to stir something inside a large pot. He placed his bag on the countertop of the kitchen island before wrapping his arms around her midriff. He pressed his lips gently on the side of her neck.
“That feels nice,” she said softly.
“And you taste delicious.”
He peered over her shoulder and into the pot. “That sauce smells wonderful.”
“The boys were craving spaghetti and meatballs.”
He slid a hand up, cupped a breast, and squeezed gently.
“The kids,” she protested.
“Don’t worry, they’re upstairs.” He continued to fondle her. “Any chance I can have a little sugar before dinner?”
“You’ll have to wait.” Connie removed his hand from her chest.
“Where’s Hailey?” he asked as he placed his hand back on her breast. Hailey, at age eight, was their youngest.
“She’s in her room.”
Connie turned around and drove a finger in Albert’s chest, backing him up just as the three kids appeared. He spun around, clasping his hands and rubbing them vigorously. “Who’s hungry?”
Over dinner, Albert drilled all three children about their studies and asked about the homework they were given that day. Anything less than straight A’s across the board was unacceptable to him. After they had finished dinner, the children were allowed one hour of playtime, which they could use watching television, playing video games, or whatever else they wanted to do. If they hadn’t finished their homework by dinner, then that would take priority.
By nine o’clock, the last of their children, Colin, had gone to his bedroom. He had the latest bedtime. Hailey went to bed first at eight o’clock, followed by Merrick at eight-thirty.
With the kids asleep, Albert retired to his home office. He was sitting at a desk made from reclaimed wood and tapping away on his laptop when Connie appeared. His eyes dropped to the manila envelope she held in her hand.
She closed the door behind her and sat in the chair on the other side of his desk. She placed the sealed envelope on the desk. Albert leaned back in his black leather chair and let out a breath, staring at it for a moment or so before leaning over the side of his executive leather chair and removing a similar envelope from his briefcase. He placed it next to the other envelope. They looked at each other, neither saying a single word.
Albert nodded. “Might as well get on with it.”
They opened the envelopes simultaneously.
Connie removed a standard sheet of paper from her envelope. Chinese characters written in pencil covered every square inch of it. She set it down on the desk.
Albert removed a thin piece of plastic from his envelope; it was exactly the same size as Connie’s sheet of paper. Holes had been punched through the plastic in no particular order, but they were all of the same size, as if a hole-puncher had been used. He turned the paper around so it faced him and then placed the plastic piece on top of it. The holes revealed only a small number of Chinese characters—an answer key.
He took a moment or so to study them before looking up at his wife, his eyes meeting hers. He watched her chest expand as she drew a breath and held it.
“The time has come,” he said softly. “We’ve been activated.”
Chapter Nine
The following morning, when walking the kids to school, I noticed Ryan remained a few steps ahead of us, and as we neared the school, he increased the distance. He didn’t need an escort, but seeing that Lucy did, it just made sense that the three of us walked together. But I knew what was going on; he didn’t want the other kids to think he needed me to walk him to school. I got it. He was older now. It was uncool to have his mom around him all the time. Still, it sucked a little. They grow up so fast.
By the time I returned to the house, Kang had already arrived. He was sitting at the dining table, eating and talking with Po Po in Chinese.
“What’s got you two so chatty?” I asked as I sat, snagging a piece of bacon off of his plate.
“We were talking about the various types of porcelain fired during the Ming dynasty and how it differs from those fired in the Yuan dynasty,” he said dryly. I glanced over at Po Po, and she nodded.
One of Kang’s unique traits is his vast knowledge of all things Chinese. Ever since he was a kid, he’d been fascinated with Chinese history and its culture. So when he told me he was discussing pottery with Po Po, I had no real reason to doubt that wasn’t the case.
“Really? Sounds fascinating,” I said with the same enthusiasm.
“Sure is,” Kang said. “There seems to be a disagreement between a few historians on whether some designs in 1368 AD are representative of the Ming dynasty or really holdovers from the Yuan dynasty.”
Po Po again nodded in agreement. Both had had a look of seriousness on their face. I had apparently interrupted a weighty conversation.
A beat later, Kang let out a huge belly laugh. “We got you,” he said pointing at me. “We got her, didn’t we, Po Po?”
I looked over at her, and she had a grin on her face, her shoulders bouncing.
Son of a bitch. “I’ll admit it. You had me. I really thought I’d interrupted your chat about pottery.”
“Whoo-wee.” Kang was still enjoying his laughing fit as tears welled in his eyes.
“All right, Confucius. Calm down. It was funny but not that funny.”
But the two continued to enjoy the fruits of their labor for another five minutes. Even after Kang and I climbed into his SUV, he was still chuckling quietly to himself.
“Sheesh, you make it seem like you killed it on the Tonight Show.”
“It’s funny, that’s all.”
“Only you and my mother-in-law would find something like that hilarious.”
Morning traffic had died by the time we hit the road, so our drive to Camp Parks took us only a little more than an hour. Kang slowed the SUV to a stop at the entrance to the base. An MP dressed in combat fatigues and carrying an M4 carbine rifle exited the small office manning the security gate. He asked for our identification. We handed him our badges, and he went back inside the small booth. A few minutes later he returned with a printed map. He had circled a building on it.
“You’re to report here. Just follow the signs,” he said. He raised the arm of the barrier gate. The iron gate behind it slid to the side.
Ten minutes later, we exited our vehicle and headed into a beige, non-descript building like the many others we’d passed.
Inside, another man dressed in combat fatigues met us and led us to a small seating area, where he told us to wait. Then he disappeared.
“Any thoughts on what the hell is going on here?” I whispered to Kang.
“Not a clue.”
I thought the whole secrecy thing was a bit ridiculous, but I behaved myself. For fifteen minutes, we sat quietly. I stared at the picture of the sitting president hanging on the wall while Kang slouched in his chair and bounced his left leg. The wait felt like a lifetime.
We were both expecting the guard who had escorted us to the seating area to return, but a man neither of us recognized appeared from behind a closed, unmarked door directly across from where we sat. He wasn’t wearing a military uniform. He wore gray slacks and a white dress shirt with a blue-and-yellow-striped tie.
“Agent Kane. Agent Kang. Would you please step inside here?”
Kang and I glanced at each other before standing up and walking through the door.
Inside the room were three more men we didn’t know. They were sitting spread out around a large, oblong conference table. There were various file folders and paperwork on the table, along with a few coffee mugs. No one asked us if we wanted coffee or tea.
Two of the men were dressed casually, one in khakis and a white polo shirt, the other in gray cargo pants and an untucked blue button-down. The third man was dressed similarly
to the one who had called us in. None of them looked military, so I assumed they worked for the Department of Justice in some sort of capacity.
We weren’t asked to sit, so we just stood. One of the men—the other one who wore a shirt and tie and was sitting the farthest away—hadn’t looked up yet, as he was reading from a file. After a few more minutes of silence, he stopped reading and peered over the top of his reading glasses at us.
“Agent Kane,” he said. “You worked your way up to Inspector of Organized Crime and Triad at the Hong Kong Police before moving Stateside and joining the Bureau. In the short time you’ve been in the federal government’s employ, you’ve risen to the rank of Assistant Special Agent in Charge of the San Francisco FBI office.” He paused briefly, clearing his throat. “Agent Kang. You held a decorated career as a homicide detective with SFPD before joining the Bureau a year ago. I’ve been informed you have considerable knowledge of Chinese history and culture.” He shut the file folder and put it down on the table.
No one else said anything. They all just stared at us like we were the main attraction at a carnival freak show. Did he expect a cookie or applause for reading our resume out loud? I kept my mouth shut.
One of the men, the one wearing cargo pants, sipped on a smoothie. After each suck on the straw, he smacked his lips. I wanted to smack that damn cup straight out of his hand.
“Is there a reason why we were asked to drive all the way out here?” I finally asked.
The man sipping on the smoothie smiled. His eyes locked on to mine and never shifted away. He placed the cup on the table, smacking his lips one last time. “Agent Kane, I understand you’ve developed a unique relationship with a little girl being held in our Mountain View facility.”
“You could say that. Her name is Xiaolian, by the way.”
The man continued to eyeball me, as if we were the only two in the room. Not once did I see him look at Kang.
“You have two children, Ryan and Lucy.”
“Yes. I’m sorry—who are you?”
“I’m the man heading up a special task force.”
“Are the other people in this room part of this task force?” I asked.
“Pretend they aren’t here.”
“Excuse me?”
“Think of our conversation like an email, and I’ve bcc’d these other people. They’re clued in, but you aren’t aware of it.”
Just then the door to the conference room opened, and a young man, late twenties, entered. The first thing I noticed about him was that he was chewing gum. Who comes to a meeting chewing gum? He wore a gray hoodie and jeans and kept his hair cropped tight against his head. He removed the black Oakley shades from his eyes and took a seat. No one said anything or addressed him.
“He’s been bcc’d too,” Cargo Pants said. “I’d like for both you and Agent Kang to be a part of my special task force. What do you say? Care to have some fun?” He picked up his smoothie and started sucking and smacking again.
I glanced briefly at Kang. “What exactly do you want us to do?” I asked Cargo Pants.
“I need you to keep talking to the girl. Continue to earn her trust.”
“That’s it?”
He nodded his head as he looked around the table. “Anybody care to add anything?”
No one said a word. Because, you know… bcc’d.
“And what do you want me to do with the information I obtain from Xiaolian?”
“Pass it along. Can you do that for us?”
“Pass it to whom?”
Cargo Pants looked at the gum-chewing guy and flashed his plastic smile before addressing my question. “This is Archer. He’ll be in contact with you.”
I swept my gaze across the room as I let out a breath. “Sure. Anything for the team.”
“I knew we could count on you.”
The person who’d invited us into the room opened the door and said. “Please step outside.”
And just like that, our meeting ended. We didn’t know it at the time, so we sat outside for fifteen minutes like a couple of dummies thinking someone would come and brief us on our next steps or escort us out or something. Nope.
Once back inside our vehicle and out of earshot of anyone but each other, we let loose.
“What the hell just happened?” I blurted out.
“Strangest meeting I’ve ever had. Some secret crap taking place in there, if you ask me,” Kang said. “I don’t think they’re with the DOJ. Most likely the State Department.”
“Why the secrecy though? And the guy wearing a hoodie—what was his deal?”
“I think he was a spook,” Kang said as he started the engine.
“CIA? Really? I thought they weren’t allowed to operate inside the United States.”
“They aren’t. But I’m guessing there’s one good reason why the CIA would be involved.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Oh? What’s that?”
“They probably think Xiaolian is a spy.”
Ryan stood next to the boy and gave him instructions on how to defend a throw-down. He moved slowly through the motions as he spoke. The other boy nodded his head as he listened.
“Okay, let’s try it,” Ryan said.
Ryan grabbed the other boy’s judogi, slipped his left leg in front of the boy, and pulled forward, but the boy countered with the defensive move Ryan had just taught him.
“You got it!” Ryan shouted. “Good job. Just keep practicing so you can do the move instinctively.”
“Thanks for the help, Ryan.”
“Colin, your father is here,” Master Wen called out from the front of the dojo.
Ryan helped Colin gather his gear. “Tomorrow we can work on another favorite move of mine.”
“Cool. I can’t wait.”
“How was your first day?” Colin’s father asked.
“It was awesome. I like this place.”
“Who’s your friend?”
“This is Ryan. He’s teaching me a few defensive moves.”
The man stuck his hand out and smiled. “Nice to meet you, Ryan. My name is Albert Shi.”
Chapter Ten
That night at dinner, conversation started from the get-go—an unusual thing in our family. We tend to hold our tongues and focus on satisfying our bellies first, at least for a few minutes. But Ryan had a lot to talk about, as he was really enjoying helping Master Wen with the other kids.
“And today we had a new kid sign up, and Master Wen assigned him to me.”
“‘Assigned’?” I asked.
“Yeah. There are four of us who help newbies at the dojo. We show them where things are and how things work. We also mentor them a little until they are comfortable.”
“Well, that sounds like a big responsibility.”
“Yeah, and it’s cool too. I was assigned to Colin Shi. He’s one-year older but not as advanced. I also met his Dad. He’s a dentist.”
“Ewww, I hate dentists,” Lucy whined. “They only exist to cause me pain.”
“Well, if you brushed and flossed your teeth like I keep telling you to, maybe your visits would be much more enjoyable,” I said.
“Impossible. I could have a mouthful of perfection, and the dentist would still find something wrong,” she said before shoving a forkful of noodles into her mouth.
“Speaking of dentists,” I said, “that reminds me: I need to schedule cleanings for both of you.”
“I’ll take a pass this time,” Lucy said. “We can save the money for something else, like another family vacation.”
“Nice try.”
“Speaking of saving money for something else, have you given my proposal any thought?” Lucy lowered her fork. “My birthday is coming up real fast”
“What proposal?” Ryan asked.
“Mommy is considering giving me pierced earrings for my birthday—isn’t that right?”
With all that had happened in recent weeks, I had totally forgotten about that discussion. Her birthday had slipped my mind, but that was
exactly why I had an alarm on my calendar set to go off ten days beforehand. I’m not the only mother who needs to set reminders for her kids’ birthdays, right?
“I’m still considering,” I said.
“Well, don’t be shy to ask me for a consolation,” she said.
“It’s consultation,” I corrected her.
Ryan jumped in with, “Aren’t you a little too young to get your ears pierced?”
“I’m a lot older than you think.”
“Uh, no you’re not. You’re eight. And that’s how old I think you are.”
“Well, it’s not your decision. And anyway, aren’t you a little young to be shooting a gun?”
Yeah, she went there. The one topic I was hoping to keep off the list of approved family discussions.
“Hey, I’ve been trained, and I take it very seriously,” Ryan replied quickly. “And if you haven’t noticed, I—”
“Ryan, that’s enough. We all know what you did. And I’m glad you are trained and serious about it. But let’s leave the past behind us, okay?”
“I was just answering her question,” he said somberly.
“I know. We all know. Look there is no right or wrong age for anything. It’s all about mindset, whether the individual is mentally ready. Lucy, when it comes to the idea of pierced ears, it’s about your level of maturity. It’s about whether I think you’re ready for the responsibility.”
“Oh, Mommy, I promise I’ll be the most responsible person you’ve ever seen.”
“I’m sure you will.”
The conversation never did veer back to the shooting. Still, I sat there at the dinner table realizing how close we had all come to having a really horrible thing happen to our family. I almost lost Lucy. Who knew if that madman would have stopped there? Would I have been next? The rest of my family? If it hadn’t been for Ryan following his training… well, I don’t even want to think about it.
I glanced over at Po Po. As usual, she was a rock. Never allowing her emotions to show. I had talked to her about that day and even suggested she talk to a psychiatrist as well. She declined, of course. “I’m fine,” I recalled her saying. The funny thing? I believed her completely. I had learned a lot about my mother-in-law during our family trip to Hong Kong. Let’s just say she’s experienced, and might even have been personally involved in, situations that were probably, most likely… eh, let’s call it what it is: illegal. I don’t bring it up. She doesn’t either. We pretend. And that’s fine by me.
The Curator: SG Trilogy Book 2 (Abby Kane FBI Thriller 8) Page 4
