Russian Hill (Abby Kane FBI Thriller - Chasing Chinatown Trilogy Book 1)

by Ty Hutchinson

  “You bastard!” Kang spat.

  “What? What are you going to do? Nothing. I can fuck her, and all you will do is call me names.” He then yanked the other side of her bra down and fondled both breasts. Her head swayed slightly from side to side. Her eyes were barely open. Moans slipped out from between her lips. He looked back at Kang. “I think she likes it.” Abby let out a louder moan, gaining Quai’s attention once more. He leaned in close, inches from Abby’s face.

  Big mistake.

  Chapter 64

  Quick and unexpected always favors the instigator.

  When Quai turned back to face Abby, the Black Mantis got more than a cheap thrill. Abby’s forehead slammed into the bridge of his nose, pulverizing the fragile bone. It was the thump that could be heard clear across the room. Quai pulled his head back and wailed in agony. Kang saw a glimpse of what was left of his nose after Abby’s forehead had destroyed it. Quai grasped at his face. Blood poured from between his fingers. He stumbled backward until his back hit the wall.

  Kang seized the opportunity and yanked his right hand free from the rope. Still in a seated position, he grabbed an ice pick from the metal cart and drove it into the chest of the guard caught looking at Quai—a man without orders. Kang didn’t wait for a reaction and moved to free himself. He planted both feet on the ground and pushed back, straightening his body. The loud crack of wood splintering pierced the quiet room as the chair collapsed below his weight. Kang grabbed the rope, which was still tied around his waist and part of the chair, and shimmied the debris down his legs as he worked to get it to his feet.

  With his man down, Quai shook off the effects of Abby’s head-butt and moved toward Kang. Quai struck with multiple blows aimed at the tall man’s chest. The first fist hit its mark, but Kang was able to deflect the other blows. Still, Quai continued his flurry of strikes to various parts of Kang’s upper torso and head. Free of the rope, Kang looked for an opportunity to retaliate.

  Quai dropped down for a leg sweep, but Kang timed a jump and delivered a kick straight to Quai’s head, sending him onto his back. Quai flipped back to his feet and assumed a defensive stance. Even with his face painted red and his broken nose forcing him to breathe from his mouth, Quai smiled. “You learn Kung Fu at the academy?”

  He then shifted his body weight to his rear leg, leaving his front leg flexed forward with the toe resting lightly on the floor. He brought both hands up to a guard position, and his fists assumed a hook formation. Kang knew this style of Kung Fu—the Northern Praying Mantis: fast and continuous strikes focused on vital parts of the body.

  Watch out for the elbow, Kang told himself. He raised his arms out in front, moving the full weight of his body to his rear leg and leaving his forward leg gently resting on its heel. Kang’s favorite style was Hei Hu Quan or Black Tiger Fist—perhaps the best match for his opponent.

  Kang tightened both fists. A beat later, he attacked, delivering five tiger palms that penetrated Quai’s defense five times.

  On the sixth, Quai hooked outwards with his left hand, deflecting Kang’s last right-handed punch, and created a turning force that opened up Kang’s entire right side to an easy attack. He struck Kang hard in the temple, nearly missing his target: the right eye.

  Kang’s momentum still had his body turning, so he embraced it and followed through, spinning completely around and delivering a reverse kick to the head of his opponent without much effect.

  Kang moved into a bow stance and delivered more tiger palm strikes to stop Quai from advancing. Kang then circled his arms over his head in a wide arc and delivered a double claw attack to the left side of Quai’s rib cage. Quai backed up, but Kang continued his approach and circled over his head again, delivering a claw attack to Quai’s right rib cage on the right side. Both strikes had the force to crack bones—his intention.

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  I had my father to thank for that move. “Your head can do more damage than your fist, Abby. It’s the unexpected punch,” he would always say. My reminiscing didn’t last long. An epic brawl had erupted in front of me.

  I was surprised to see that Kang was so well trained in martial arts. He battled the bloody mess I had created with a velocity I could barely keep up with: straight punches, forearm blocks, high kicks, it was if I were watching a late-night Kung Fu movie. I lost track of who connected and who got blocked until the man with no nose made a sweeping leg attack. Kang had anticipated a high kick and dropped down. He took a foot to the windpipe and immediately fell to one knee, making a throaty noise.

  I struggled to free myself, but the bindings that held my hands were too tight. I was helpless as I watched his opponent move in for the kill.

  Kang took a knee to his face that snapped his head back, followed by an arc of red and then his body.

  Our captor stopped his advancement and laughed. “Your Kung Fu does not match your ego.”

  I had to do something. This guy was about to finish off my partner and my only hope of getting out of there alive. So I did the one thing I knew would get that man to focus on me; I opened my mouth.

  “Hey, Shrimp Boy. Why don’t you pick on someone closer to your size?” Like me.

  Chapter 65

  Fresh blood leaked from the man’s nose, but it seemingly had no effect on him. I could see the muscles along his jaw line ripple with rage as his eyes settled on me. Calling him out was about as far as I had thought my plan through. Now what? I was out of ideas and out of time.

  “Kyle,” I yelled, as I struggled in my seated position, “now would be a good time to recover.”

  He moved toward me, forceful breaths spraying red from his mouth. His eyes were bloodshot. His body movement was stiff and ready to explode on me.

  Then, like a rail-thin beacon of hope, Kang rose up behind him, blood smeared across his face. He reached around my attacker’s neck with his left arm. There were strands of rope still knotted around Kang’s wrist. He grabbed the other end of the rope with his right hand and yanked back, lifting the man off the ground. He dangled a good foot or so above the floor as Kang leaned farther back, pulling on the rope and driving it deeper into our attacker’s neck. His legs flailed around, and his hands pulled on the rope as he choked. But I saw that the dying man had one last move—his only move. I yelled out to Kang, “Watch out for his head!”

  Kang moved his head to the side in time to avoid a backward head-butt.

  The man continued to struggle, and the rope cut deeper, allowing no air to enter, no sound to escape. The taut stretching of his pants from his air kicks was all I could hear. And then he stopped moving. Kang held his grip a few seconds longer before letting him drop to the ground with a soft thump.

  Kang then bent at the waist and rested his palms on his knees. He greedily sucked in air like an intake valve before he slowly looked up at me. His mouth hung open, and blood coated the inside of his lips and tongue.

  “This looks familiar,” I said.

  Kang stood up and untied me from the chair. That’s when I noticed the headless man still strapped into his chair. “Don’t tell me that’s Monte.”

  Kang nodded before bending down and searching the man he had choked.

  “Who is that?”

  “His name is Quai Chan. He’s the enforcer for Jing Woo, the man that runs Chinatown.” Kang stood up empty-handed.

  “The last thing I remembered was telling Monte to get back in the van.”

  “I think they hit us with tranquillizer darts.” Kang moved Abby’s hair, revealing the dried blood. “They caught you in the neck.”

  I reached up and felt my neck, now aware of a slight throbbing in the area. Kang lifted his shirt and showed me where the dart had struck him. I fixed my bra and quickly buttoned my blouse back up.

  “I have no idea what they used, but be glad it didn’t end up killing us.” He looked at the metal cart and picked up a long dagger. “Grab something. We’ll need help getting out of here.”

  I chose a hammer. “Where the hel
l are we, anyway?”

  “We’re still in Chinatown. The red brick is the giveaway. We might be underground, in a basement perhaps. I’ve heard rumors of an underground network of tunnels.”

  “Tunnels? Under Chinatown?”

  “Come on,” he motioned. “Let’s move.”

  He put his head against the wooden door and listened. “Sounds quiet.” He cracked the door a few inches and peeked out before opening it all the way. We exited the room and entered a hallway. The walls and floor were cement, and there were bulbs lighting every few feet.

  “Looks like the rumors are true. Which way?” I asked. Both directions looked identical.

  Kang shrugged. “Hell if I know. The grade in this direction seems to angle up.” He pointed. “Maybe this is the way out.”

  We walked ten or fifteen feet, Kang leading the way, before a doorway on the left side of the hall came into view. He placed his ear against the door and listened but heard nothing. He turned the doorknob slowly. It was unlocked. He quietly pushed it open to reveal another small room, except the floor was covered with mattresses, and there were seven or eight girls sleeping in various states of undress. At least they looked asleep. Kang closed the door. “We’ll have to send help for them later.”

  We continued down the dimly lit hall until we came upon another door on the right. Before opening it, Kang took the same precautions as before. This time, it didn’t work. Inside the room were three goons packaging marijuana into small bags. They sprang from their seats and came at us. Kang tried to shut the door, but the pull from the other direction was too great and his hand slipped off the knob. Within seconds, the three men had attacked us in the hall. Kang plunged his knife into the neck of the first guy out of the room and tossed the gurgling man off to the side, ready to defend against the second.

  The third man slipped by and came right at me with his arm cocked, ready to explode. I ducked, causing him to miss, but his momentum sent his body into me, knocking me to the ground. He tripped, landing a few feet away. I flipped over to my knees and stood up quicker than he did. Not necessarily wanting to kill this guy, I spun the tool around and punched the handle into his chest. Oomph! He doubled over. I followed with an elbow to the back of his head and sent him to the ground unconscious. I turned in time to see Kang slam his guy into the wall face first, twice. He stopped moving and fell to the floor.

  I looked at the guy with the knife sticking out of his neck. I still couldn’t believe that Kang was responsible for that and the dead body in the holding room. Killing a man in hand-to-hand combat is about as up close and personal as it gets.

  “Come on; we need to hurry. Surely the noise will have alerted more men,” Kang said as he pulled the knife out of the dead man’s neck. We hurried as fast as we could. I kept waiting for more men to appear, wondering if I would have to use the other half of the hammer. We made a right and a left.

  “There, up ahead.” Kang pointed at a door and we ran toward it. He yanked on the knob but it was locked. “Damn!”

  “Move,” I said. “This knob looks pretty old.”

  I hammered away at it. After the fourth swing, it broke off. I hacked at the area where the latch held the door in its frame. Two strikes and the old wood split apart. Kang backed up and kicked the door off its hinges, revealing a storage room.

  We made our way past shelves of dry food, large cans of soy sauce, plastic containers of seasonings, jugs of cooking oil, and more. Toward the back, we saw a wooden ladder leading up to a pair of metal doors. Kang grabbed the hammer from my hand and struck the doors repeatedly. I thought for sure more goons would show up any minute.

  But then the metal doors creaked, and a beat later, they opened. Staring down at us were three very confused cooks.

  Chapter 66

  For the second time in one month, I found myself in the hospital, except this time I was forced to spend the night for observation. The toxicity test confirmed traces of xylazine in our systems. My levels were higher than what they found in Kang and in Monte’s remains.

  “They probably injected the same amount in all of you, but with your weight and size, the drug had a much more aggressive affect on your body,” the doctor had told me earlier. “You’re lucky you didn’t die. That stuff is meant to knock out a horse, not humans.”

  Over to my left, lying in another bed, was Kang. He was out cold but in stable condition. Reilly had ordered that we be put in the same room and an officer be stationed outside for our safety and to keep us from leaving. We both had IVs stuck in our arms to replenish our fluids, the hospital’s way of keeping a leash on us—they didn’t want us bolting prematurely either. I don’t blame them. I wanted out of that sterile room with its fluorescent lighting. I kept the lights off and used the small table lamps instead.

  I watched the subtle rise and fall of Kang’s chest and listened to his gentle breaths. He seemed peaceful in his bed. It was hard to imagine that, hours ago, he had been a raging ball of testosterone, battling enemies to see to my safety. Talk about a partner having your back.

  When I told the paramedic that I didn’t need to go to the hospital, Kang insisted. He told me how I continued to flow in and out of my catatonic state. One second, I would be right behind him, following him down the hall; the next second, he would look back and find me standing still and swaying. I didn’t believe him. I thought he was joking, but he insisted it was true. I had no recollection of it.

  On the way to the hospital, I remember telling him about the room with the half-naked women and the other one with the three men who attacked us. “I took one of them out.”

  “Yes, you did,” he answered in a neutral tone. “But what you’re not remembering is the group of men who came up on us in that hallway and attacked you from behind, knocking you to the ground.”

  My brow narrowed.

  “You don’t remember that, do you?”

  It wasn’t until the doctor confirmed what Kang had said that I bought into his story. “It’s a known side effect with addicts who use xylazine. They tend to go in and out of consciousness even though they’re awake. It probably happened to all three of you but your effects simply lasted longer.”

  I had to wonder what else had happened that I couldn’t remember.

  Once we were alone in our hospital room, I interrogated Kang for all the details. He started by filling me in on what took place from the moment he regained full consciousness until we appeared in the kitchen of a Chinese restaurant. According to Kang, there was one other thing I didn’t recall.

  “I threw myself at you?”

  “See, that’s why I didn’t want to tell you. I knew you would get embarrassed.”

  I sucked in a deep breath. “I’m not embarrassed, because I know it didn’t happen.”

  “Do you? You heard what the doc said earlier.”

  “You’re messing with me.”

  “Don’t worry. It didn’t bother me. I have that effect on women, especially when I rescue them.”

  I pressed my lips tightly together as my face turned various shades of red. He had officially embarrassed me.

  Kang looked at me from his bed. “It’s okay. I don’t mind being your hero,” he said before laughing and rolling over to his side.

  I didn’t want to encourage him, but I couldn’t keep myself from laughing. As I lay quietly, I started looking at Kang differently. I knew he was still the same jokey guy I had worked with for the last month, but somehow, seeing him through the lens of an action hero changed things for me. Suddenly, he was a strong, take-charge guy who defended me from evil men and ensured my safety. He had become my knight in shining armor. I mean, what kind of gal wouldn’t want a guy like that coming to her rescue? I couldn’t help but feel like I had developed, how would I say this, a mild crush on the guy. Me and Kang? Nah. I tried to repress the feelings, but they lingered.

  As I lay there trying to understand my newfound feelings, the door to our room squeaked open, and in walked Agent House.

  “
Hey there, Special Agent.”

  I smiled at my friend, happy that she had come to see me. “What are you talking about?”

  “Rumor has it they’re promoting you.”

  I waved off House’s remark. “I’m not interested. More responsibility means more work. I already have plenty to deal with.”

  House removed a Thermos of hot water from her bag and placed it on the table next to me along with a familiar little tin.

  “You didn’t.”

  “I did,” she said as she poured some hot water into a cup. “Swung by your house, and your Po Po gave me some of your tea. Speaking of, she hasn’t told the kids yet about what really happened. They think you’re at work. Do you know what you’re going to say?”

  The kids were always the toughest part about my job. I thought it would be easier as they grew older. It’s not. Maybe when they’re eighteen I can tell them the whole story. “Hmmm, I’m not sure. The truth I guess.”

  House squeezed my hand gently and smiled before looking over at Kang. “How’s he doing?”

  “Fine. He’s sleeping.”

  “You got lucky with him. I hear he’s some sort of Kung Fu master and that he dropped a guy with one finger.”

  “Boy, the rumor mill is in full churn, huh?”

  “Oh, yeah, and everyone is loving it. Wanna hear more?”

  “No, thanks. I’ve had my fill of drama.”

  A devilish smile grew on House’s face as she leaned toward me, a giggle escaping her lips. “I watched you from outside the window before coming in,” she said. “You were staring at him.”

  “Shhh!” I said, my voice barely audible. “He might be listening.”

  “So it is true; you did call him your hero,” she singsonged.