Authors: Stephen Knight
But still, his death was meant to send a clear message to Lin Yubo.
There is no security.
Manning rolled the corpse over but found nothing remarkable other than some curious scarring on Baluyevsky’s right buttock. He rolled the corpse onto its back and rose to his feet, stripping off the gloves as he did so.
“What did you find, Manning?” Lin stood several feet away, behind Manning and Nyby. He looked down at the corpse with a muted expression of disgust, even though he must have seen more than his share of dead bodies. Manning chuckled inwardly. Lin was still Chinese enough to believe that a dead body on the premises would invite ghosts and perpetual bad luck.
“Baluyevsky wasn’t the target. You were.”
“I know that already.”
“He was killed to send you a message, Lin Yubo. Your most senior bodyguard, a man who had killed who knows how many people—himself killed in an engagement that lasted less than five seconds.” Manning tossed the gloves onto the corpse and turned to Lin. “Your would-be assassin is taking some time to show off. Frightening you is part of her plan. She wants to torture you mentally as well as physically.”
Lin said nothing.
“I’ve called in all the guards,” Nyby said. “And we can hire some additional contractors to take up some of the slack. I know some really first-rate people—”
“A little late for that.” Manning nodded toward the body lying on the cement floor. “The estate’s security has been substantially compromised. Remaining here is no longer an option.”
“So where?” Nyby asked.
Manning ignored the question. “Lin Yubo, how long ago exactly was Lin Jong killed?”
Lin did not answer. He stared at Baluyevsky’s body before them. Manning detected something akin to a shudder pass through the small man’s body, a sensation that he was certain was foreign to Lin, both physically and spiritually. Despite having lived a lifetime full of violence, much of which he had perpetrated himself, his aspiring assassin had most definitely accomplished one part of her mission.
Lin was terrified.
“Lin Yubo,” Manning said.
“Over one month ago. Thirty-nine days.” Lin did not look up from Baluyevsky’s body. “Why is it important?”
“We can’t stay here any longer.”
“Where will we go?”
“Upstairs. Get some clothes. Toiletries. Pretend you’re going on a weekend trip.”
“I never go on weekend trips.”
“Lin! Snap out of it!” Manning said, his voice loud and sharp, strong enough to penetrate the cloak of fear that had draped around Lin. The old man looked up at him then, his eyes sharp, angry. Manning nodded to himself. Even when the chips were down, Lin Yubo was still a greedy, selfish, self-centered bastard who demanded all defer to him, no matter what the circumstances.
“Do not speak to me that way ever again,” he said. His voice had a lethal quality to it, like the slithering sound of serpents moving into striking range.
“Then pull your shit together and follow directions,” Manning said, monumentally unimpressed that an 80-something was finally showing some backbone. “Get whatever you need, and let’s leave. You’ve been compromised here.”
Lin nodded slowly and finally turned away from the body. He headed toward the stairs, and Manning followed him.
“How many men do you want to take with you?” Nyby asked. He hurried after Manning.
“None.”
“What? Are you kidding? You saw what happened to Baluyevsky—”
Manning turned and faced Nyby directly. The security man drew up short, as if he had suddenly decided he didn’t want to get close to Manning when Manning was wearing his war face.
“I’m a whole lot better than Baluyevsky ever was,” Manning said. “Do something you might be good at, like dumping Baluyevsky’s body.” With that, he turned and trudged up the steps after Lin.
“But where will you go?” Nyby asked. He ran to the foot of the stairs and looked up.
Manning turned at the head of stairs. “Somewhere about fifty-two stories up.”
CHAPTER 23
“Where are you taking me?” Lin asked. He sat in the back of the GTO as Manning drove toward Interstate 101.
“To your office building,” Manning said.
“Why there?”
“Because it’s a logical place for you to retreat to. If you stayed at your estate, that would look suspicious, and might not draw the killer in. She wants you out of there. She wants to kill you in a place you feel supremely secure.”
“Then I must wonder why you are taking me to a place where you know I will be killed.”
“Because I want to make sure she can find you.”
“Manning, your logic escapes me right now.”
Manning glanced in the rearview mirror and met Lin’s eyes quickly before looking back at the upcoming highway interchange. “I want her to know where you are. If she knows where you are, then I know where she has to go. And that makes it an even match.”
Lin was silent for several moments. “So you intend to face the killer alone.”
“Yes.” Manning merged onto the freeway, heading south. “Lin Yubo, when did Ren Yun come to California?”
“Three days ago. Why?”
“The killer is part of his entourage. It’s the only answer.”
“Impossible. Ren Yun has vetted his staff thoroughly. In fact, he uses people who live mostly outside of the mainland, just to ensure no one with…hostile intent can appear in our midst.”
“Then you’ve all been played. This was something that’s been planned for years, Lin Yubo. This isn’t some spur of the moment kind of thing. This is cold-hearted revenge. For whatever you did to this person during your time with the CCP.” Manning glanced in the rearview mirror again. “Did you ever think you would have to pay for that?”
Lin made a dismissive sound and looked out the window. His eyes were unreadable behind his dark sunglasses. Manning concentrated on the freeway ahead as the Golden Gate Bridge loomed in the near distance.
###
Keeping several car lengths back, Meihua Shi followed the black GTO as it hurtled down the freeway. There was no chance her battered brown Toyota Corolla could keep up with the big muscle car if Manning became alerted and tried to lose her, so she made certain to hang very far back. Sometimes she lost sight of the GTO, but that didn’t unnerve her. Thanks to the listening devices she had put in the vehicle while he slept, she knew everything. And in case she missed something, she had left a small wireless recorder in the trunk, stuffed inside the insulation. She intended to retrieve that later and review the conversation between Manning and Lin, just on the off-chance something was discussed that she couldn’t catch over the wireless earpiece in her left ear. Her heart hammered in her chest. The anticipation was so very strong now. She knew she could pull abreast of Manning’s car and kill Lin with a single gunshot—she did have a small caliber pistol, just in case—but that was not her plan. She wanted him to suffer. First, the grief of losing his sons. And then, the fear that would envelop his heart when he realized her revenge was as unstoppable as a hurricane. She wanted him crushed and demoralized before she released him from the bonds that tied him to this earth.
Soon. It will all be over soon.
And when it was complete, she would be free to join her parents and brother in the afterlife. The crushing weight of years of planning and training for her vengeance would be lifted from her shoulders, and she would be forever free of terrestrial troubles.
For the first time in decades, she felt something else besides the pulse of anticipation that swelled in her breast.
She felt relief.
Content that her time would soon be up, she drove on, keeping the GTO in view whenever possible.
###
The homicide department at the stationhouse was vacant, so Ryker didn’t have much trouble getting Chee Wei to translate all the relevant facts pertaining to James Lin. Lin’s history with the Chinese Communist Party was interesting; while he had always known Lin was as corrupt as they could possibly come, he hadn’t ever thought he might have been a personal friend of Mao’s. And to find out that he was responsible for some very serious purges in China was something else. Ryker knew Lin was dirty, very dirty, but he hadn’t figured him to be a mass murderer. But hey, you learned something every day.
More compelling was the death of his eldest son, Lin Jong. Ryker questioned if Jong was even Lin’s real son, since China had a one-child policy. Chee Wei corrected him in that only eastern China had a one-child policy; Lin Jong was born in Chongqing, a huge city in southwestern China, and one where the policy was not in place. There was no data on Jong’s mother, but she was most assuredly a different woman than Lin Dan’s. A ‘second wife’, Chee Wei explained, something that was still acceptable in China even today.
“I might get myself one of those too,” Chee Wei said, with a toothy grin.
“You might want to get yourself a first wife before you start planning the second. And make sure you hide all the knives and frying pans, because the first will definitely find out about the second.”
Lin Jong had been killed pretty much the same way as his younger brother—he’d been sexually mutilated, and then stabbed. Unlike Lin Dan, there was no other woman involved as with Xiaohui. Lin Jong had been alone, in an expensive condominium he owned in Shanghai’s fashionable Bund district. The security cameras apparently captured an image of a female leaving Jong’s condo. A middle aged female.
“And of course, there’s no photo,” Ryker said.
“Nope. But she sounds a lot like our Amy Wong.”
“Who we already suspected wasn’t some middle aged matron to begin with. Okay, what next?”
“Not a hell of a lot. Like my cousin said, Shanghai police have the case pretty much closed up—nothing new was released to the rest of the law enforcement community after this, which is why he figures the Public Security directorate is calling the shots. Guess they’re just like the FBI, they don’t want to get involved with the rest of us.”
Ryker leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head. He looked over at Wallace’s vacant desk, then across the room at Spider’s darkened office. Footsteps sounded in the hallway, followed by the squeak of the hinges on the men’s room door.
“We’re missing something,” he said.
Chee Wei rolled his eyes. “Duh. You think?”
“Thought you were going to work on not being such a smart ass all the time.”
“I am. I’m trying real hard to be a dumb ass.”
“Keep up the good work.” Ryker found his thoughts drifting to images of Valerie Lin, lying spread-eagled beneath him as he slammed into her again and again, her mouth forming a perfect O as she came, the muscles of her sex gripping him like a hot, wet glove. He squirmed slightly in his chair, then slowly leaned forward and rested his elbows on his desk. He was glad Chee Wei didn’t have x-ray vision, or he’d be able to see Ryker was still able to pop a boner almost on command.
But the younger detective still noticed something was wrong. “Dude, you all right? You look like you’re about to pass out.” Chee Wei favored him with a concerned look. “Or puke, maybe. You’re not going to puke, are you? That would really gross me out.”
“A couple of nights ago you saw a guy with his dick cut off, and that didn’t gross you out?”
“That’s different. I didn’t know that guy, and besides, he was a creep. But if you start puking, I might puke too. It always happens that way. When I was a kid, I puked all over my older sister when the girl in
The Exorcist
blew chunks on the priest. Jesus, I’m starting to feel queasy already. And that damned drink at Starbucks set me back almost six bucks, too!”