Chapter 69
Returning home and seeing my family had been a mix of emotions. One: I was scared to death to face Lucy and Ryan. I worried that, in a single phone call, I had undone all the trust I had built with them, and we would return to being the strangers that we had been when we first met. Two: I loved them so much it hurt. All I wanted then was to hug them and never let go.
Happily, I had been worried over nothing.
Both children welcomed me back with large smiles. Lucy practically leaped into my arms the minute I opened the front door, almost toppling me. Ryan, who usually stood off to the side waiting until Lucy had received her hugs and kisses, was right behind her and joined in with a bear hug of his own. To my surprise, even Po Po gave me a welcome-back hug. She had also prepared a special five-course dinner of all my favorite dishes. I felt so loved at that moment. I had been so focused on my love for them and whether I had given enough, I didn’t realize they had an equal amount to return to me.
We talked a little about that phone call over dinner but didn’t dwell on it. Clearly, what mattered to my family was that I was home. The past was the past, and we needed to relish the moment and look forward to the future. I had forgotten how resilient kids were.
I spent the rest of the night listening to stories about what I had missed while I was away. They both talked about school and their friends. Lucy had reenrolled in dance classes and had prepared a special performance for me. Ryan showed off his latest judo moves and the new kung fu outfit for the lessons he would soon start.
That night was a smattering of their lives, whatever popped into their minds. It didn’t matter to me. I wanted to hear every detail. Nothing was mundane. It was all worthy as far as I was concerned.
I returned to the office two days later to find that the Thai authorities had come knocking on our door for answers. When the embassy had notified them that we had already jetted out of the country on a diplomatic charter plane, they weren’t too happy. I didn’t blame them; one of their best detectives had been murdered.
In the following days, I was happy to answer questions and fill in the blanks. I had done my best to be completely forthcoming with the events of that night, everything from the interrogations to the girl escaping. I considered Artie a friend, and it still shocked me that he had been killed. I didn’t want to impede their investigation; I wanted to help them. I wanted them to bring his killer to justice.
According to the Royal Thai police, when Artie’s men returned from their search, they had found him unconscious and not breathing. They administered first aid but had failed to revive him. I told them it had to be the girl, Sei. Artie had been alone when I left. She could have easily doubled back and attacked him.
They agreed, and their findings also pointed to the girl. Handcuffs had been found next to Artie’s body, the ones we’d used to restrain her. The medical examiner’s report only reinforced it.
Tip had personally handled the autopsy, and she was nice enough to forward a copy of it directly to me. Her official report stated that Artie had died from ligature strangulation. Pictures of Artie’s neck showed bruising that was in line with the markings of a cuff and part of a chain. I sent her a short email with my condolences and told her that, if she needed any information from me regarding the case, she needn’t hesitate to reach out.
I also went ahead and worked up a profile on the girl in hopes that it might help the Thai police. I could paint an idea of how she thought and what her motivations might be. They had no record of Sei in their files; this was their first encounter with her, so any information was helpful.
I had my doubts that they would find her, not for lack of ability but more because of who they were dealing with. A seasoned assassin would know how to disappear and remain invisible for as long as needed. I’d be surprised if Sei were still in Thailand.
With that all said, I still wasn’t ready to just sit back and see how the case shook out, even when my involvement in the investigation had diminished due to the fact that we didn’t have any players to catch in the US. I had time on my hands, and I did exactly what Reilly had told me: “Abby, if you want to catch the mastermind, you need to catch him with your brain, not with force. That’s your strength. Use your head.”
I took what he had said seriously and spent my time at the office expanding my profile on Sei. I also did my best to dig up any information I could on her. I even reached out to an old friend back in Hong Kong, Leslie Choi, my protégé who had taken over my old position as Inspector in charge of the Organized Crime and Triad Bureau.
“Abby!”
A squeal erupted from my phone loud enough that I had to pull it away from my ear, but I still held my grin. “Hi, Leslie.”
“I thought you had run off to live in the mountains as a hermit. You never answer my emails.”
“I know, I know. Bad habit I have, but I’m calling and that’s a whole lot better.”
“It is, but a visit would be better. Oh, wait. Tell me you’re calling to let me know you’re coming to Hong Kong.”
I chuckled. “I wish I were coming to see you. It’s long overdue.”
“I second that. So what do you need?”
“What makes you think I need something?”
“Abby? Come on…”
“All right, I just didn’t want it to be all business.”
“I’ve already heard your sweet voice. I’m good for another couple years.”
We both laughed, and I gave Leslie a quick overview of the case and the girl, Sei.
“Dammit. You always end up with the interesting cases!”
“It’s all packaging my friend, all packaging. So have you heard of this girl?”
“Name doesn’t ring a bell personally, but that doesn’t mean we don’t have something on her. I’ll poke around and see what I can come up with.”
“Thanks, Leslie. I appreciate it.”
We talked for a bit longer. I told her about life in San Francisco, and how the kids and Po Po were doing, and what being an agent for the FBI was really like. She couldn’t believe that I primarily investigated white-collar crimes, financial stuff. “Believe it. This case is an anomaly. Most of my time is spent chasing greedy bankers.”
“Well, I guess it’s best for the new Abby Kane and family,” she laughed. “No, seriously, I’m happy for you. Family is important.”
“Speaking of family, do you have a man? You kind of need one of those to get one started.”
“I’m working on it.”
Oh, I almost forgot: I worked the case with Kyle Kang.”
“The detective?”
“Yup.”
“If I remember correctly, he was a pretty smart guy—good-looking, too. Listen, I hate to cut our call short, but duty calls.”
“I understand. Take care my friend.”
“You, too.”
After I hung up with Choi, I thought about how our friendship had changed after I had moved to the States. Actually, the correct word would be “suffered,” and it saddened me. But I also knew I was happier in life. Nothing could trump being a parent. And yet, somehow, every now and then, my job did just that.
I had known the deal when I signed on to work for Reilly. I would spend most of time investigating white-collar crime and the occasional serial killer/gang-related investigation would be thrown my way. It would disrupt the Kane household for a bit, but I could live with that. Sort of.
Chapter 70
The front doors to the Hop Sing Tong in San Francisco’s Chinatown had been chained shortly after the FBI had finished their investigation. Control of the building had reverted to the Chinese organization that owned it, but from that day forward, not a single person had been seen entering or exiting the building, and its windows remained dark at night.
The residents, particularly those who owned shops and restaurants along Waverly Street, wondered if perhaps the building had been sold. If so, who were the new owners, and why had nobody heard anything about it? A sale of suc
h a property would have to be approved by the other benevolent associations or tongs that helped govern the neighborhood of course. An exchange of hands was highly unlikely, but no one could be sure.
“Abandoned” was the word that populated the daily gossip regarding the building. It was believable, too, except a shopkeeper swore he had seen a small light flicker on in one of the windows, if only for a brief moment. It didn’t matter whether the others believed that to be true, because shortly after he made his claim, the chains that secured the tong’s doors were removed, the sidewalk out front was swept clean, and late at night, a light could be seen emanating from a window on the top floor.
Yet even with these obvious signs of life, there was still no sighting of who had recently come to occupy the tong.
But someone had.
Chapter 71
With three weeks having passed since my return from Thailand, I had regained a sense of normalcy in my life. The workload at the office had returned to manageable levels and hours, allowing me to effectively parent again. I wasted no time in embracing the routine of family life I had so missed while buried in the Chasing Chinatown investigation.
A big part of that routine consisted of Ryan joining me on my trips to the gym when he didn’t have a class at the dojo. Conditioning was our focus, and we would always spar a little, but what he had really taken a liking to was something my father always wished I had taken a larger interest in: grappling.
A while ago, I had shown Ryan a couple of moves I had learned from my father and the FBI academy. I hadn’t realized that he had spent a great deal of time practicing the moves until I got a call from the school a few days ago. Ryan had got in a fight.
My first thought while I drove there to pick him up was, What on Earth are you doing fighting in school? I worried that maybe my being away was the culprit. I worried that my not being around led to him falling into the wrong group of friends. I worried that this might be the beginning of a troubled childhood.
I was wrong. There was a bully, and Ryan had taught him a lesson.
Turns out, this kid had been picking on my son for the last two months, but Ryan had done what I had always told him to do: He took the high road. Long story short, the kid kept on bullying Ryan, and it got out of control. His side of the story was that he had no choice but to defend himself.
“It was after school. He and his friends had circled around me,” Ryan said. “I swear, Abby, I tried to talk my way out of it. But he charged me. I had to protect myself.”
And that’s exactly what Ryan had done. I had taught him a simple submission move: the Guillotine Choke Hold. It’s very easy to execute when your opponent charges with his head down. Basically, it’s a reverse headlock.
“He came at me head down and I wrapped my arm under his neck…”
I’ll be honest, hearing Ryan describe how he successfully executed a submission move—one that I had taught him—on a kid who was taller and heavier than him, well, let’s just say it had me beaming with mommy pride and delivering high fives like there was no tomorrow. This was all on the inside of course. On the outside, I was Abby the Parent. My left eyebrow had arched into a fine point while my mouth muttered something about being grounded for a week.
Ryan had slipped his arm under the charging kid’s chin and yanked up against his throat. He then grabbed that wrist with his free arm and pulled upward, while falling back.
“You should have seen it, Abby. Once we were on the ground, I wrapped both legs around his torso and pushed his hips down, creating the force I needed, but I was careful not to knock him out. I just held him until some other kids could call a teacher.”
That move earned Ryan a two-day suspension, but had he actually choked the kid out, I’d probably be looking for a new school for him to attend, and I would have some very angry parents to deal with.
Dealing with Ryan’s first schoolyard fight reminded me of mine. My tormentor was Mei Lin. She was a year older, sixteen, had big floppy breasts that the boys loved, and never liked me from day one. As usual with kids, these things almost always come to a head.
I remembered that the first words out of my father’s mouth when he arrived at my school weren’t “Are you okay?” but “Did you win?” I had known there was only one answer he wanted to hear. I hated to admit it, but it was the same answer I wanted to hear from Ryan.
As for the case, I spent most of my time advising law enforcement officials in other countries. Because I still had access to Team Carlson’s account—don’t ask me why, I could track the players via the live updates in the game. Any information I could provide that helped them track their killer was welcomed.
Aside from that, I also advised them to subpoena the tongs and search any computers, smartphones, and tablets they found for the Chasing Chinatown game. They could try to gain access to the game themselves, discover the Attractions for their city, and tie them into any recent murders. That could help prove a connection between the tong and a murder victim. Of course, in the end, I told them there was no one single way to shut the game down and not to discount going after the team in their city.
The Merseyside Police in Liverpool proved just that. Between my help and that of the United Kingdom’s Security Service—MI5—they were actually able to catch Team Loathe. They then gained access to their account via their laptop and did exactly what Kang and I had done—played the game. Within a week, they had arrested the Deputy Mountain Master who ran Liverpool’s Chinatown and effectively shut down the game in their city.
One by one, the Triad organizations in the cities connected to the game were dismantled, and any live updates of a team’s progress in that city stopped immediately. That alone told us we were disrupting the game play. We may not have been making the strides needed to catch the mastermind, but we were at least taking away a reason for a bunch of sickos to run around the world killing people.
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It was a late Tuesday morning, and I was busy monitoring the game while I munched on a lox bagel and sipped tea at my desk. The office was busy with plenty of foot traffic around me, but I had my ear buds in, and I quietly rocked out while I worked. A phone call on my cell stopped the party though.
“Abby, it’s Kyle. What’s the latest?”
“I got word that the Netherlands National Police Service raided the Chinatown in Amsterdam. Since then, I’ve been paying special attention to any activity in that city. None so far.”
“That’s great news. We’re down to ten cities now?”
“Yeah…”
“Aw, come on. You’ve got to be happy about this.”
“I am. It’s bittersweet.”
“I hear you. The icing on the cake would be nabbing the a-hole who created this game.”
“Bingo!”
“I don’t mean to abruptly change the subject, but I am going to. You’ll never guess what showed up at the precinct.”
“Dim sum?”
“Well, yeah, I did order some. But that’s not what I wanted you to guess.”
“Huh?”
“Forget about what I just said. Listen, I just received an invitation to attend the grand reopening of the Hip Song Tong.”
“That’s the tong Reilly busted a couple months ago.”
“Apparently they’ve turned over a new leaf. They’re having a big celebration and inviting people to come to an open house. They’ll have food and entertainment and other stuff. Should be interesting.”
“You want me to tag along?”
“Yeah, and bring the family, too. They’ll have games and rides. Plus, your Po Po can get in a day’s worth of gossip.”
“I am curious about who’s now in charge of that place. Count me in.”
After I hung up with Kang, I gave Reilly the heads up about the tong and asked if he wanted to attend the street fair.
He declined but agreed that it was a good idea for me to go. “Keep your eyes open, Abby. That place has been dormant since our raid. I find it odd that they’re sudde
nly having a family-friendly, fun-filled festival.”
I returned to my desk and again checked for any activity in Amsterdam. There was none. I felt pretty good about notifying the KLPD that they had successfully shut the game down, until a message window appeared within the game and stopped me in my tracks. I’d had no idea the game had messaging capabilities until that day. But what I found even more surprising was the message itself.
Anonymous: Hello, Agent Kane.
What the hell? I stared at the screen for a few moments wondering if this was my doing, but I quickly tossed the thought. Do I respond? Ignore? Who could this be? I picked up my laptop and headed straight for Reilly’s office. He had his nose buried in his smartphone when I closed the door behind me.
“Is something wrong?” He scrunched his eyes as he removed his glasses.
I balanced my laptop on a stack of manila folders piled on his desk. “The game just messaged me.”
“What?” Reilly leaned in for a closer look. “When did this happen?”
“About thirty seconds ago.”
Reilly pointed at the screen. “Respond.”
Team Carlson: This is Agent Kane. Who am I speaking to?
Anonymous: You were warned in Bangkok.
Team Carlson: Warned about what?
Anonymous: You cannot stop the game. No one can.
I looked at Reilly. “What do you think?”
“We have the attention of the mastermind. Clearly, our strategy of shutting down the game by taking out the Chinatowns is working.”
“This is nothing but a smokescreen.”
Reilly nodded his agreement.
Team Carlson: I hate to destroy your fantasy, but we are shutting the game down.
A minute passed without a response. “Is that it?”
Reilly shrugged. “Keep engaging.”
Team Carlson: You’re quiet because you know we speak the truth.
Anonymous: I’m quiet because I’m laughing. Agent Kane, I’ll grant your wish.
Team Carlson: And what’s that?
Anonymous: You are officially a player in the game.
Lumpini Park (Abby Kane FBI Thriller - Chasing Chinatown Trilogy Book 2) Page 20
