Authors: Stephen Knight
“She was here!” Ryker said. He shouted down to the cops, “Where is she?”
They looked at each other dumbly as if he’d spoken a foreign language. Then both men shrugged and spread their hands, the universal expression of incomprehension that told Ryker they didn’t have the slightest idea what he was talking about.
Ryker went down the stairs four at a time, leading with his Glock. Morales caught on and followed him. They reached the next landing down. Ryker peeked around the corner. The corridor was empty. At the far end, net curtains fluttered, pushed by a breeze. Ryker crabbed sideways along the hallway, pressing himself to the wall. Morales took the other side. They reached the curtains, which concealed an open window. Ryker peered out. The fire escape ladder was up, it hadn’t been used. Below the window lay a narrow alleyway with a row of trash bins. He leaned out as far as he could but there was no one down there.
“What happened?” Morales said. Ryker was torn between taking the fire escape down into the alleyway, and going upstairs to check on Raymond. “What the hell happened?”
“Stay here,” he told Morales. “Watch the alleyway. If anything moves, shoot it.”
Morales took up station, clearly bewildered. Ryker hurried back to the landing and called down to the cops, telling them to check the alleyway, even though he knew it was hopeless. They ran outside and Ryker climbed back up to the third floor, where he found Raymond on her feet, leaning against the wall and breathing deeply.
“Sandra. Talk to me.” He examined her for signs of injury, of blood, but couldn’t see either.
“I’m okay,” she said. “I’m okay.”
“Did you see her?”
“No. Yes. I don’t know.” Raymond shook her head, then winced when it apparently hurt. “Give me a second. I don’t know, what the fuck, I was looking at you, next thing I knew....” She rubbed her neck, massaged the area of her collarbone. Ryker opened her jacket. Her white blouse was intact and blood-free.
“It hurts there?”
“Yeah it fucking hurts, don’t touch me. Christ, I thought the bitch must have shot me. The impact, I couldn’t feel my legs, what did she hit me with? It threw me back. My legs stopped working. A fucking sledgehammer or something?” He sensed her panic, a result of confusion and fear. They moved together instinctively and she clung onto him for dear life, trembling with reaction. Her words came out in breathless sobs. “I thought I’d be in a wheelchair. What did she do to me?”
“Sandra, did you see her?” He held her tightly, twisting his hips away from her to avoid any crotch contact. Last thing he needed right now was a hard-on.
“I saw something. It must have been her. She was there. Then she was gone.” Raymond delivered one last gurgling sob into his shoulder, then stepped back, disconnecting from him. “She was dressed in black, from head to foot.”
“She must have had some kind of weapon,” Ryker suggested. “A club, a T-bar, something like that?”
“I don’t, I’m not sure, if she had anything in her hands.” She touched his chest, making a fist, tapping him around his collarbone as if trying to visually recreate what she’d experienced.
“She punched you?”
Raymond frowned and shook her head, uncertain. Ryker’s phone rang, he flipped it open, saw Morales’s name on the display. “Luis, talk to me.”
“Our guys are in the alley,” Morales said. “Nada.”
“She hit Sandra,” Ryker said. “Knocked her right over. I don’t think anything’s broken. We’re going to the hospital to make sure.”
“That’s not necessary,” Raymond said.
“You hit your head. We’re going to the hospital. No argument.” To Morales he said, “Our bird has flown. We need to get someone to check out her apartment. And stick around in case she comes back. Call Furino, Luis. Tell him what’s happened. We missed her. She was here and we missed her.”
CHAPTER 15
An intern shone his flashlight into Raymond’s eyes, asked her a bunch of questions and seemed pleased with her answers, which pleased Ryker too. He decided to wait outside when they unbuttoned her blouse and exposed the livid purple bruise that had spread across her upper chest and over her shoulder. Thankfully a curtain cut off his view of further discolored flesh, and Raymond’s unblinking stare.
He sat in the waiting area, thinking about what had happened, and about his jangling feelings as he’d sped down Battery with Raymond beside him in the passenger seat, clutching her shoulder and grimacing in pain. He’d ignored the evening rush-hour lunacy of California Street and taken Pine instead, the one-way flow leading in timely fashion to Saint Francis Memorial Hospital. Now he tried to remember where he’d left Morales’s Ford. Somewhere close to the emergency room entrance, maybe. He took heart from the fact the public address system wasn’t demanding that the drunk driver who’d abandoned his vehicle move it so ambulances could get in and out. Nor could he hear a wailing siren or see flashing lights through the glass entrance doors, which suggested he must have turned them off before crashing inside with Raymond in his arms, a regular hero, only he was the chump who’d gotten her into this in the first place.
A sympathetic nurse recognized him and suggested he might want to get something to eat in the hospital cafeteria while they wheeled Raymond through to X-Ray, which sounded like a damn fine idea. He went outside first and called Morales, who told him a forensics team was still on its way to “Amy Wong’s” apartment. Morales offered to lie down and play dead to elicit a quicker response, only half-jokingly. Ryker considered calling Spider to exert pressure on the crime scenes unit, but what would that gain? He had a feeling that fingerprints and DNA weren’t going to be enough for this one. Amy Wong, if that was her name, didn’t play in the jealous ex-lovers league, he was sure of it. She was in another class entirely. When Ryker considered what that class might be, he got a sinking sensation in his gut. He offered Morales commiserations and told him to sit tight.
He called Debbie Price at her desk and asked her to obtain James Lin’s telephone number, and to transfer him to Spider’s office.
“How’s Raymond?” Spider asked, reminding Ryker why he liked him. He’d had previous bosses whose first question would have been, “Haven’t you made an arrest yet?”
“Doc thinks she’s okay but we’re making sure,” Ryker told him. “The suspect put her down with one punch. If me and Morales hadn’t been there, no telling what might have happened.”
“What are you saying, Hal?”
“I think about what she did to Danny Lin, how she got in and out of the hotel, and the way she got past us—Lou, I had her in my sights. She jumped the rail and vanished into thin air. Uniforms didn’t even see her.”
Spider didn’t say anything right away. Ryker just waited. “Damn it, this is starting to sound downright spooky. Spit it out.”
“I think she’s had training. We know she’s Chinese. How about we put the two together?” An ambulance with flashing lights glided past Ryker, on its way to the E.R. entrance. He spotted Morales’s Ford fifty yards away, and was relieved to see it wasn’t causing a major snarl-up. “She isn’t some angry ex-girlfriend of Danny Lin’s. She took on a temporary job at the hotel so she could prepare the kill. When we got to her apartment she was blacked up. Think SWAT, only lightweight. Maybe we caught her in the middle of something -- a training session. Or maybe she wears black under her street clothes. I don’t know. She was a shadow, Lou. I couldn’t tell she was human until she stopped moving for a split-second.”
Spider let out an explosion of breath. “Jesus. Are you suggesting she’s, what, a ninja?”
“Ninja are Japanese. But, yeah, maybe we’re talking the Chinese equivalent. There’s a name for them, I can’t remember what it is. The translation goes something like ‘tigers of the night.’“
“Sounds like something out of a bad Kung Fu movie. C’mon, you’re kidding—hold on a second.” Spider’s voice became muffled, evidently he’d clapped his hand over the mouthpiece to speak to someone else in his office. “Sorry, go on. The Chinese ninja theory.”
“Just how much do we know about James Lin? Who does he run with? You think he might have any rivals who’d like to see him dead?”
“We’ve been here already. This is a murder investigation, and the victim is Danny Lin, not his father.”
“And the chick who cut Danny’s dick off is still running loose in the city,” Ryker said. “I’d have to ask why. Me, I’d be on the first plane out of town, not hiding in Danny Lin’s hotel room, breathing blood and shit all night. Unless there was good reason to stay. Unless the job wasn’t finished.”
“Hold onto that theory if it helps you get through the day.” Spider’s skepticism came across loud and clear. “In the real world, what’s our next move?”
“If I think of one, I’ll let you know,” Ryker said. “Morales’s stuck at the apartment until the forensics team shows up. I’m going to check on Raymond. Anything changes, I’ll let you know. How long are you going to be at your desk?”
“I’ve got a meeting with the captain in an hour. At least I can tell him we know what Danny Lin’s murderer looks like.” Spider sighed again. “Your missing her at her apartment was bad luck. No way you could have known for sure you’d find the killer there. But still....”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You should have called in SWAT. You shouldn’t have gone in alone.”
“I wasn’t alone. I had two detectives and two street cops backing me up. We had enough firepower to bring down an elephant. Let me tell you what I think, Lou. I think SWAT wouldn’t have got us anything except more people in the hospital. Or maybe the morgue.”
“That’s strictly a matter of opinion.”
“Sure, and I’m giving you mine. Just between the two of us? I’m right. I’ll talk to you later.”
“If Jericho doesn’t shoot me first,” Spider said, and hung up.
Ryker called Debbie Price again. “I can’t find a number for James Lin,” she said. “You want me to call someone higher up the tree?”
He thought about it for all of two seconds. Last thing he needed was Jericho crashing into Spider’s office and biting his ear off about hassling James Lin. Or worse, Chief Hallis crashing into Jericho’s office and performing a rectal biopsy. Ryker was glad Debbie had sense enough to ask him first.
“Thanks but no thanks,” he said. “Let’s keep the bloodshed to a minimum. How’s Chee Wei doing?”
“There’s a black-and-white on sentry duty outside, and the older sister is making him dumplings.” Debbie chuckled. “Sounds like a real tough assignment.”
“Yeah, but Fong’s man enough to stick it out to the bitter end. Thanks Debbie, talk to you soon.”
Ryker headed inside, intending to find the hospital cafeteria, but his ringing phone stopped him.
Doesn’t anyone know how to send a fucking text message anymore?
He resisted the urge to throw the damn thing away, and instead thumbed Accept Call as he turned and exited the building yet again. “Ryker.” He spoke through clenched teeth.
“I hope I am not calling at an inconvenient moment, detective sergeant.”
He found a wall and leaned back against it, closing his eyes. Of course, he’d given her his card with his cell phone number. “Not at all, Mrs. Lin. If I sounded a little rude there, I apologize. It’s been an eventful day.”
“I didn’t notice.” She lied beautifully. Her voice was so clear that he expected to see her standing right there in front of him when he opened his eyes again. She wasn’t, much to his disappointment. She said, “You must be wondering why I’m calling you.”
You don’t need an excuse,
he thought. “I should imagine you’re curious as to how the investigation is progressing, Mrs. Lin.”
“Yes. Yes, exactly.”
He sucked in a deep breath. “I hesitate to reveal details over the phone. There’s a possibility our call could be monitored.” Actually that was a certainty rather than a possibility, though he didn’t imagine Homeland Security’s ever-vigilant telephone monitoring and voice analysis software would tag them as potential terrorists.