We parked and waited inside the van for a few minutes, surveying the area. The plan was to stage the scene, snap some pictures, and get out of there. We anticipated that the entire operation would take us roughly fifteen minutes.
Kang rolled the bike out of the back of the vehicle down a small, portable ramp. Our target was the center of the square where a lamppost cast a soft light. We spent another ten minutes documenting with pictures and video.
“How long should we wait before uploading our evidence to the app?” Kang asked.
“If the real Carlsons had done this, they would still be reveling in the glow of the kill. I know we’re both eager, but maybe it’s better to wait a day.”
From out of the shadows, Quai Chan emerged, invisible to the naked eye due to his daily wear of a black Kung Fu suit. The eyes and ears of Chinatown had alerted him to the couple’s arrival in the square. He arrived in time to watch the couple roll a moped out of their vehicle and park it under a lamppost. He knew from the descriptions given him by Lee, the owner of the Fortune Cookie Company, that this was the right couple. Maybe he will live, Quai thought.
He waved his hand as if he were motioning someone. He was. Four dark figures emerged from the shadows and spread out around the square. Within a few seconds, Quai and his men had surrounded the couple as they took pictures of the bike.
A second later, a white male exited the van, and approached the couple and started taking pictures. The woman immediately pointed at the van, her arm stiff like an arrow. She used her other arm to turn him around and push him back toward it.
Quai didn’t need to see more. He motioned to his men, and all at once, they rose from their hiding spots, a mere fifteen feet away. They had long wooden tubes pressed tightly against their lips. A few seconds later, the three individuals fell to the pavement, unconscious.
Quai’s men quickly moved the bodies back into the van and drove away as he watched the rear lights fade into the grasp of the gray. Quai stood from his crouched position and clasped his hands together, pushing them out, palm first, to create a rippling of crackles from his knuckles before making his way down to the motorbike.
He noted the restaurant and what was in the container but gave no visible reaction to seeing a bloody head. It was impossible to tell if he was fooled.
59
Kang woke first. He blinked until his eyesight grew clear. Surprisingly, his first observation wasn’t what his eyes saw but what his arms felt—a lack of movement. He looked down and saw rope strapped tightly across his waist, tying him to a wooden chair that was bolted crudely to the cement floor. His arms were pulled behind his back and fastened together at his wrists. Kang noticed a bit of slack in the rope and immediately began to work on it. He also realized his weapon was missing, and so were his keys and wallet. His disguise had been completely removed except for a bit of glue on the tip of his nose that had held the prosthetic down. They know who we are.
Those were the first of a series of dire observations but certainly not the last that Kang would make in the next few minutes.
To his left sat Monte, the SFX guy. He was tied down in a chair with armrests, his hands tightly secured to each one. His head swayed from side to side as he mumbled quietly to himself. Sitting to his right was Abby. She too had been stripped of her disguise and, he assumed, her weapon as well. Her chin rested against her chest, and her hair had fallen forward, covering most of her face. He could barely hear her shallow breaths, which was a relief, because upon sight, she looked dead.
Above him, a lone bulb dangled from a jerry-rigged electrical hookup. Every few minutes or so, the light would flicker. The room had no windows, only a wooden door leading out. Aside from the chairs the three were sitting on, the space was bare. The walls were constructed from small, red bricks, which gave Kang some encouraging information. We’re still in Chinatown. However, the chill in the room told him they were most likely below grade. An old basement, perhaps?
Coughing from Monte grabbed Kang’s attention. “Monte,” he said, “you okay?”
He swung his head toward the direction of Kang’s voice. “Yeah. My head hurts, though. Why am I tied? Where are we?” His words gained speed, and he spoke louder. He started to tug on his arms.
“Monte, I need you to remain calm. Look at me!”
Monte focused back on Kang. Heavy breaths escaped his hanging mouth, and the pits of his T-shirt had darkened.
“Everything will be okay. We’ll get out of this. But in the meantime, I need you to remain calm.” Kang kept his voice steady and his emotions in check. If he showed any sign of worry, he knew he would lose Monte.
“Why are we here? What’s wrong with Agent Kane?” he asked, looking past Kang.
“She’s fine. We were all knocked unconscious.”
Kang then turned his attention to his partner. “Abby,” he called out, but she didn’t respond. He tried once more but louder. “Abby!”
Her head swung toward him.
“Abby, it’s Kyle. Can you hear me?”
She mumbled and could barely open her eyes.
“I think we were drugged, maybe with some sort of anesthetic agent. Looks like she got the worst of it,” Kang said.
“Is help on the way?” Monte asked.
“Help is on the way,” Kang lied. “Now listen closely. At some point, we will face our captors, and when we do, I need you to remain calm. Let me do all the talking and do not, under any circumstances, engage them. Is that understood?”
Monte nodded.
Kang looked at the man from head to toe. He was either one degree away from losing it or on the verge of shock. Neither outcome was ideal.
“Do you know where we are?” Monte’s words barely slipped out over his lips.
“I believe we’re still in Chinatown. That brick,” Kang motioned with his head to the wall, “is common in most of the older buildings, but I think we’re in a basement.”
“We’re underground?”
“Monte, what did I just say about remaining calm?”
“Sorry.”
“A lot of the restaurants and stores have underground storage units.” Kang had been in a couple. It was also rumored that a network of tunnels existed under Chinatown, but Kang had never found any evidence of it. Even though he was a full-blooded Chinese man, he wasn’t privy to the secret workings of Chinatown. Only its residents understood fully what went on in its confines.
It also didn’t help that he was a cop. Chinatown had always policed and punished their own. That’s how it was and always had been. It had helped to shelter the first wave of immigrants from the dangers of the city and the corruptions of the government. Cops were not to be trusted. And sadly, Kang was well aware of that.
60
Back on the surface, a slew of law enforcement personnel had descended on Portsmouth Square. Reilly and his team were already fake-inspecting the crime scene when he realized that a half hour had passed since he had arrived. His intent was to do a walk-around and leave, but without the agent in charge of the case on site, that wasn’t possible.
He called to no one in particular, “Anybody seen Agent Kane?”
“She hasn’t shown, sir,” answered a passing agent.
Reilly dialed Abby on his cell phone but got her voicemail. Shit! Where are you? This is supposed to be your operation. He walked over to one of the SFPD uniforms on perimeter duty. “Do you know if Detective Kang has shown up or is on his way?”
“Not that I know of, sir. I can put a call in to dispatch, and they can try to reach him.”
“Thanks.”
Reilly walked back to where the bike was parked. The forensics team was busy dusting the bike and photographing the surrounding area. The fake head was still inside the container, though now, in the light, Reilly could tell that it was a prop. He flipped the lid closed right as he felt a tap on his shoulder.
“Abby, it’s about time…”
“Sorry, wrong agent.” Agent Tracy House stood before him.
>
“Oh, I thought you were… What are you doing here?”
“Abby filled me in on the plan. I came by to see how real the crime scene looked. I’m impressed.”
“Well, I’m not. Abby is MIA. She’s supposed to be here overseeing this charade.”
“If you need help, I can step in.”
“Thanks, Agent. I would appreciate it.”
House motioned with her head to a pack of journalists standing outside the taped off area. “Looks like someone needs to give a fake update to the media.”
Reilly shook his head and clenched his jaw before heading over to feed the pool of reporters.
House walked over to the bike and took a peek inside the container when a uniformed officer tapped her on her shoulder.
“Sorry to disturb you, but that other agent,” he said, pointing to Reilly, “asked me to check on the whereabouts of Detective Kang. I wanted to say that dispatch had no luck in reaching him. I also wanted to mention that the van he requisitioned wasn’t returned. He didn’t ask me to check on that, but I did—”
“Wait, what do you mean it wasn’t returned?”
“It should have been returned early this morning, but it wasn’t. I thought that was worth mentioning.”
“Thanks. It is.” The wheels in her head began to spin while her stomach grew hollow. Something wasn’t right. House pulled out her phone and dialed Abby as she made her way over to Reilly. There wasn’t any answer.
“Special Agent Reilly,” she called out, interrupting his spiel to the journalists, “you’re needed at the crime scene.”
“That’s all for now. We’ll let you know when we have more information.”
As soon as they were out of earshot from the reporters, Reilly whispered from the corner of his mouth, “Thanks for saving me there.”
“Sir, I think we have a problem. An SFPD officer has just informed me that the van Detective Kang requisitioned to bring the bike here was never returned this morning.”
“Shit!” Reilly grabbed another passing agent. “Agent Burns, you familiar with the effects guy we flew up here?”
“Yeah, I helped coordinate his travel plans.”
“Good. I want you to find out if he is in his hotel room, immediately.”
“I don’t understand,” House said. “Why are you checking on the guy who made the head?”
“Because he tagged along with them last night to finish prepping the head.”
Reilly took a deep breath as he looked over the scene. Abby had asked if there should be backup, but they had both come to the conclusion that the operation was simple enough that they didn’t need any. I should have known better.
“Were they supposed to check in after the drop?”
“Only if for some reason they were unable to complete it,” Reilly answered. “I should have sent a team to watch them.”
Agent Burns reappeared as he was getting off his mobile.
“You have an answer for me?”
“The room was empty, and the bed didn’t appear to have been slept in.”
“Agent House, round up every available agent on site and meet me back here.”
A few minutes later, House returned with six other agents. Of the bunch, she looked the most concerned and rightfully so. To her, Abby was more than just a coworker. Reilly reached over and gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Hey, you didn’t put Abby on this case; I did. I don’t want you blaming yourself, okay?”
House nodded as she worked to swallow the lump that had begun to lodge itself in the bottom of her throat.
“Listen up. We have a situation where one of our own, a detective with the SFPD and a civilian have gone missing.” Reilly informed them of the details he had learned only minutes earlier. “I want a search perimeter established, starting right here in this square and branching out. Also, let’s get an APB on the van they used and have SFPD and the Highway Patrol monitor the roads and bridges out of the city. I want—”
Reilly stopped and lifted his right foot. Beneath his shoe, he saw a thin, metal projectile about three inches long with red fletching at the end for stabilization.
“What the hell…?”
“If I’m not mistaken,” House said as she bent down and picked up the object, “that looks like a tranquilizer dart.”
“Let’s get whatever is on the tip of it analyzed and hope we’re not too late.”
61
Kang was staring ahead, contemplating their options, when a noise from Abby grabbed his attention. “Abby,” he called out. She opened her eyes for a brief second before closing them. He called out once more. This time, her eyes remained open, but her lids were heavy. “Over here. It’s me, Kyle.”
Abby flopped her head toward him again. “Kyle… What’s going on?” she slurred.
He noticed a thin trail of dried blood on her neck, partially covered by her hair. It only confirmed his earlier suspicions about them being drugged. A tranquilizer gun? It had to be. He didn’t recall hearing a noise or seeing anyone. One minute, he had focused on Abby as she tried to get Monte back into the van, and the next thing he knew, he had woken up tied to a chair.
While Kang and Monte appeared to be recovering from the effects of the drug, Abby was having a much harder time. She appeared woozy and spoke sporadically without making much sense.
Kang didn’t like their chances of survival and needed to quickly tilt the odds in their favor. He had been diligently working on loosening the knot that secured the rope around his wrists and had made significant progress. Just get one hand free. That’s it.
Ten minutes had passed before he heard the scuffle of shoes outside the door and a key sliding into the lock. A beat later, the wooden door creaked open, and in walked three Chinese men. One was noticeably smaller than the others, but the intensity of his stare told Kang he was the leader. They were all dressed in black Kung Fu attire. The two tall men each had a sword strapped to their back, and one held a laptop under his arm.
The small man stepped forward to within a few feet of Kang. He had a wry smile. “Detective, how are you feeling?”
“Why are you holding us hostage?”
The man spread his feet apart and cupped his hands in front of him. “Why do you ask a question you already know the answer to?”
Kang’s brow narrowed. “Who are you?”
The grin on the short man grew wider as he looked back briefly at his companions. “He wants to know who I am.” His followers chuckled. “I am the Black Mantis.”
“So you are Quai Chan. I’ve been wanting to meet you for a very long time.”
“Well, Detective Kang, your wish has been granted.” Quai began to pace the room slowly, methodically. “That show you put on in the square—very clever. What was its purpose?”
Kang remained quiet. The more he allowed the man to talk, the more he would learn what they knew and what they wanted.
“Your tongue is tied? I thought it was only your hands.” More laughter. He then snapped a finger, and the man holding the laptop moved forward. He flipped it open and tapped at the keyboard before turning it around.
“I have live footage for you.” Quai pointed at the screen. The video showed a woman reporting on the very crime that he and Abby had staged earlier that morning. Kang took note of two things right away: the time stamp on the video—a little after eight in the morning—and the fact that the laptop had a Wi-Fi connection. The room they were in either wasn’t far from ground level or they were on ground level. Hundreds of tourists could be walking around just outside that door. That gave Kang hope.
“They found a head,” Quai continued, “the head you left this morning. You remember doing that?”
Kang looked at Monte. He had followed his orders and kept his mouth shut. He also did one better and avoided eye contact by keeping his head down.
“What is it you want?” Kang asked.
“Why did you put a head in a delivery container and leave it in our beautiful park—a park that men, women
and children enjoy on a daily basis? Why would you do that? What prompted you? Did you want to scare people? I think you would have scared the children but not the men and women. That head wasn’t very good. Next time, find yourself a better looking head.”
His laughing triggered more chuckles from the other two men. It also triggered a response from Monte.
“What do you mean find a better looking head? That head is extremely lifelike.”
“Monte!” Kang barked.
Quai turned his attention to Monte. “I thought you were sleeping, but now, I realize you were too afraid to look at me.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I do know what I’m talking about. And that head is a piece of shit.”
Monte shook his head and looked away but not before muttering an audible “Fuck you.”
Kang couldn’t believe his ears.
Quai’s eyebrows dipped before he reached behind his back and removed a pair of sais, spinning them around in each hand. The light from the bulb above flashed off the polished metal. Kang hadn’t noticed the weapon on Quai when he had first entered the room, but he quickly saw that the tips were sharpened into deadly points. Before he could utter a word to calm Quai, he brought both arms down, driving the steel shafts into the back of Monte’s hands.
No!
Monte threw his head back and let go a long, screeching cry before peeking back at his now pinned hands. Blood seeped from his wounds and dripped from the arms of the chair. His eyes grew wide. His jaw fell open, allowing a strand of saliva to stretch from his mouth.
He let out another cry. The brick wall multiplied its volume. Kang thought the worst had passed until Quai turned to one of his men, removed the larger sword from its sheath and spun around, all in one fell swoop.
Suddenly, Monte went quiet. His legs shot straight out, remaining rigid. Everything moved so quickly; Kang felt one step behind the action. Quai raised the sword and placed it against the side of Monte’s head.
[Anthology] Abby & Sei Thriller Starter Page 20
