The Killing Hands Read online

  I roll my eyes under the blindfold. You’d think I’d have some inkling of how this was going to turn out. That something this significant would come through in a vision or dream. But as is often the case, my psychic stuff is more frustrating than useful. Then it hits me…the dream. I was shot. Shit. I assumed I was dreaming it from a victim’s point of view, from a stranger’s point of view, but what if it was my own?

  We have to make a break. I start tapping it out for Ramos, but only get to M-A-K-E A B-R-E-A-K W-H-E-N B-L-I-N-D-F-O-L-D-S before the car’s locking system beeps. Someone grabs the rope that ties my hands together and pulls me out of the car, hard and fast. Too fast. My foot gets caught on the door frame and I fall to the ground, landing on my right hip. The hand digs into my upper arm, bruising me as he pulls me to my feet. I can tell by the feel of the upward pull that the man who holds me now is at least six feet tall and strong—my feet are airborne before he puts me back down onto the ground. This isn’t one of the guys from the deli.

  “Come on.” His voice sounds familiar. I try to think of all the six-plus men I know in L.A., but it’s futile. I work in law enforcement, surrounded by men, and lots of them are tall.

  He drags me behind him and I almost stumble again.

  “Ramos?” The word comes out as a two-syllable grunt, but it’s followed by a single one from Ramos. He’s at least forty yards away by the sounds of it.

  “Shut up, you two.” The familiar voice again, this time right in my ear. I process my senses…we’re in a room, a large room. There was an echo. And I don’t think we went outside or through a door, so we’re somewhere you can drive a car into. Like a warehouse. That ties in with the docks.

  A booming voice cuts through the room, emphasized by the echo. “Teach her a lesson, Miki.”

  I can’t see, I’m blindfolded, but I sense the fist coming my way and duck.

  “What the hell?” The guy sounds pissed. “Jeez, you guys can’t even put a blindfold on properly.”

  His hand comes down behind my head to hold me still, and he delivers the strike directly to my jaw. The punch itself is not that hard, but because he’s holding my head with his other hand I can’t recoil to soften the blow. I taste the slight metallic sensation of blood in my mouth.

  “Now keep quiet or there’s more of that to come.”

  The booming voice cuts through. “Give her partner a taste, too. And don’t be as lenient as Miki.”

  Miki is in trouble for not punching me harder. A man that size could easily knock me out with one blow to the jaw.

  I hear the unmistakable sounds of fists hitting flesh and bone. Ramos is fairly quiet, bar the occasional grunt or groan in response to the force of the blows. It only lasts about a minute, but a minute’s worth of punches is a lot to endure, especially if his attackers are the size of Miki. Once they’re finished, the only sound is Ramos trying desperately to catch his breath, with only his nose to breathe through—he’s winded.

  Miki drags me again, toward the direction of the man with the booming voice. Could it be Tomi Moto? Or his second in charge, Takeshi Suzuki? Whoever it is, he’s probably responsible for whatever Mee and Saito are involved in.

  “Sit her down.”

  Again, I flash back to the dream. I was tied to a chair when I was shot, and now they want me to sit down.

  A large hand pushes me back and down, into a chair. I feel him hunching over me as he reaches down to my ankles. Blindfolded and tied to a chair? When I know a bullet’s coming my way? No way.

  I lean back in the chair and kick with all my might at the man. I aim high, hoping to connect with his head or throat, but it’s impossible to target effectively when I’m blindfolded. I connect with something, but it feels more like his chest. The force of the impact hurtles me backward and the chair topples over. I roll with the fall, keeping my fingers and hands closely pinned to my body to protect them. I eventually come to rest on my back. Pulling my knees up to my chest, I bring my hands from behind my back under my feet and up so they’re now tied in front of me. I push myself to standing, ready.

  I can feel other people around me, but I’m not sure how many. So far, the only voices are the boss man, Miki and our two captors. But now I hear footsteps coming closer and they’re from behind me, at least two others, maybe four.

  “No! Leave her to Miki.”

  “Yes, leave her for me.”

  Miki mustn’t be very bright, because he’s just given away his position. He’s to my right, and close. I take a side step to close the distance and then go for a front kick, hoping to connect with his groin. I manage to hit him, but judging from the absence of a groan I missed my target. I follow it up with an elbow strike. With my hands tied in front like this, I can still use an elbow strike effectively and will even be able to deliver some modified punches. I throw my first punch, but it hits the hard bone of a forearm. I’ve been blocked—and properly. Even the contact with the forearm hurts, like a punch would. Maybe this man is our killer. Although, I wouldn’t have been able to get any strikes past the man who killed Saito and the others. Before I have time to react, to try to defend myself as best I can without being able to see, a punch is delivered square into my solar plexus. I double over, gasping for breath. While I’m winded, Miki literally picks me up, slams me into the chair.

  “Bitch!”

  As he’s tying me to the chair, I manage a swipe across his face, but it’s not a well-delivered blow.

  A deep chuckle erupts. It’s the boss. “You drew blood, Agent Anderson. Nicely done.”

  Good. That means I’ve got his DNA under my fingernails.

  “She’s feisty, Miki. You didn’t tell me she was this feisty.”

  Miki makes the final adjustments on the ropes around my ankles, and they’re tight.

  “Miki has been following you for the past couple of days.”

  “Bullshit!” I mumble through the tape on my mouth. I would notice a tail…wouldn’t I?

  “Remove the tape, Miki.”

  Miki immediately responds to the boss’s order, jamming short fingernails into my cheek to peel up an edge. Once he’s loosened a small corner of the tape, he rips it off in one fast movement. My lips and mouth burn and I can feel a sticky residue around my mouth.

  “I would’ve noticed a tail,” I say with more conviction than I feel.

  “Our Miki is good. He knows how to be discreet. How to disappear. How to make others disappear.”

  “Mee,” I say.

  “Exactly.” He’s silent.

  I feel Miki’s hands on mine as he undoes the rope that binds my hands together. He quickly pulls my arms behind me and ties them up again. I’m panicking. I’m tied up, immobile. They have all the control. I have none.

  “So you’re going to make me disappear?” I force an evenness into my voice that doesn’t reflect my emotions. “Like Mee?” But I still think that if Mee was dead, I would know it.

  “Maybe. But let’s have a chat before we make any hasty decisions, huh?” There’s a hint of both humor and sarcasm in his voice and it’s chilling.

  I hear movement directly in front of me, and two sets of footsteps. One person trips and I make the logical leap—Ramos. Sure enough, a few seconds later I feel a whoosh of air as Ramos is shoved into a seat next to me. I hear the unmistakable sound of tape being ripped off. We can both talk, but I resist the urge to ask him if he’s okay or to communicate with him in any way. Instead, I ask the boss what he wants to talk about.

  “Jun Saito, Mee Kim and your investigation.”

  “What about it?” Ramos’s voice does reveal some pain, but at least he’s talking and lucid.

  “Everything. Absolutely everything.”

  It’s a puzzling question. I can only think of two reasons why they’d go to all this trouble to see where our investigation is at: (1) we’re a threat somehow, getting too close; or (2) they haven’t been able to track down Saito’s killers themselves and they want to exact revenge. If it’s the first option, then the
re must be something they’re hiding, other than a professional hit man. So what’s the big secret?

  “There’s not much to tell,” Ramos says. “We were investigating a murder in Little Tokyo. And we found out that the victim’s name was Jun Saito.”

  I take over, but instead of bringing in another name, Petrov’s, I claim the discovery for myself. “I recognized the name, knew that he might be related to Hisayuki Saito and the Yakuza.”

  “How did you know the name?” The boss’s voice is stern.

  “In case you haven’t recognized the accent, I’m Australian. We have close ties with Asia and I worked on an Asian organized-crime task force back in Oz a few years ago,” I lie.

  “Let me guess, some federal official gave you a 101 in the Yakuza.”

  I smile. “Exactly. And history was part of that briefing.”

  He grunts. “What about Mee? How’d you get to Mee?”

  “Saito has been making payments to her for the past year. We traced it through his laptop.”

  “That was sloppy of him. Saito was out of practice.”

  “So he hasn’t been working for you for the past fifteen years?”

  Silence.

  “Saito was out of practice,” the voice repeats. “Going straight, as you’d say.”

  “But someone found him.”

  “Yes.” He sighs, frustrated. “You don’t know who, do you?”

  “No.”

  Silence. He’s disappointed. He was hoping we’d have more information than him, not less. The Yakuza, or at least this boss and his section of the Yakuza, were not responsible for the hit. He’s fishing way too much, hoping we can give him clues. And that means option number two wins—they don’t know who to hit as retaliation. At least they’re not jumping to conclusions and whacking figureheads from different organizations. Our boss man is a thinker, and that’s good for Ramos and me.

  “Can I ask you a question?” I take my chances again.

  “You can ask.”

  “How does Mee fit into all this? Is she Saito’s daughter?”

  “Yes.”

  “Does she know that?”

  “I’ve been polite and answered your question, Agent Anderson. Don’t push it. Now,” he says. “What to do with you two.”

  “Assaulting or killing law-enforcement officers will bring all sorts of heat onto your organization,” I say.

  He laughs. “I’m untouchable, Agent Anderson. This is my town.”

  “What if we help you find out who killed Saito?” Ramos pipes up.

  “And what would you do, Detective? Arrest him? Charge him?” Laughter again. “I have a different idea about the retribution this man will face. And law enforcement needs to learn to stay out of our turf! Tell that to your bosses.” He pauses. “We’ll handle this matter in-house.”

  I make out three sets of footsteps, moving away from us.

  “Wait until we’re gone.” The boss is leaving and taking two others with him, probably his personal bodyguards or right-hand men.

  I don’t know what they’re going to do to us, but he just gave us a message…to pass on to our bosses. So maybe my dream was off base. Looks like Ramos and I are going to make it out of this thing alive.

  A car door opens and closes, and then another two car doors follow. I can imagine someone opening the door for the boss, and then getting into the car themselves once the boss is loaded. The engine starts and the car moves away.

  “We’re gonna send a strong message to law enforcement.” It’s a new voice and I can hear pleasure in his tone, the disturbing kind of pleasure.

  I tug on my ropes, but it’s futile, Miki tied me up real tight. I imagine Ramos is finding he’s in the same predicament.

  There’s silence for what seems like an eternity, before I hear another two sets of footsteps, car doors and then a car engine starts.

  Without any warning, three shots are fired. My eyes blink rapidly; I’m unable to comprehend what’s just happened. What’s happening.

  “No!” Miki screams out. “I want to do her!” I can feel his anger boiling over. “I want to get the bitch back for scratching me. Leave!”

  “Ramos?” I repeat his name several times, but there’s no answer. My breathing is heavy and fast, waiting for the searing pain as the bullet enters me, just like it did in my dream.

  Then the silence is broken by the other voice. “Whatever you say, Miki. Have fun.” Again, there’s the hint of pleasure in the voice, satisfaction. Another two sets of footsteps move away, and two car doors open and close. But the engine doesn’t start. They must be waiting for Miki.

  “What have you done?” I scream. “Why have you done this?”

  No response.

  “You don’t have to do this. I haven’t seen your face.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Miki’s voice is soft, almost tender.

  Tears start to roll down my cheeks. Ramos is dead. Three shots. And I’m next. I take a deep breath but it’s cut short by a burning pain as I fall backward.

  Twenty

  I force my eyes open, groggy and confused. All I can hear is beep…beep…beep. As my eyes open fully I make sense of the noise—heart monitor. I’m in hospital.

  “She’s awake.”

  I move my head to the voice. Petrov.

  “Agent Petrov.” My voice is raspy and dry. Weak. I suddenly recall that I was shot. “I was shot.”

  “Yes.” He moves closer.

  “Sorry about that.”

  I freeze. It’s the voice. Miki. I instinctively reach under the pillow for my gun, but it’s not there. I’m not at home now. I turn my head to the other side of the room and Marcus from my kung fu class stands next to Agent Joe De Luca. And then I realize—Marcus and Miki are one and the same person.

  “He’s the one who shot me.” I shake my head, wondering when I’ll wake up from this nightmare. Or maybe I’m dead.

  “Agent Sophie Anderson, meet Special Agent Dan Young from the DEA.”

  “Agent? DEA?”

  “Hi.” He grins. “Sorry about shooting you. I went for your shoulder. It was the best I could do under the circumstances.”

  “DEA?” I repeat, still trying to get around the concept that Marcus from kung fu is really a DEA agent called Dan Young, who is obviously undercover in the Yakuza. Even without whatever pain meds they’ve got me on that’d take some processing.

  He nods. “I’ve been undercover here for twelve months as Marcus Miki.”

  I look to Petrov for confirmation and he gives me a nod.

  “But why didn’t you say something? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Petrov crosses his arms. “We’ve got a leak in the Gang Impact Team.”

  “What?” I can’t contain my surprise. “Damn!”

  “Tell me about it.” De Luca runs his hand across his skull. “We’ve been trying to pinpoint who for over a year now. And that’s why we got someone external, Dan, to go in. Dan’s from New York and was undercover in the Yakuza over there. We needed a complete outsider and Agent Young here fit the bill, so we got him transferred.”

  Young takes a few steps forward. “I started doing some deals with L.A., getting to know a few people on the West Coast, and eventually someone vouched for me. I was in.”

  “But…” I let the sentence hang, not sure what I was about to protest. The bombshells just keep coming.

  “There are only a few of us who know about it.” Petrov pushes his hands into his pockets. “Me, Joe and Brady. I went to him when Joe and I first had our suspicions. Brady’s in charge of our investigation into the Gang Impact Team.”

  No wonder Petrov seemed especially floored by Saito’s death. He wasn’t only thinking about the possibility of retaliation, he was also thinking about how the news would affect the task force and the leak…or whether the hit was somehow related.

  “Ramos? Is he…?”

  “He’s in intensive care.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief. He’s alive.

  “And
for the record, I didn’t shoot Ramos, only you. Moto’s orders were shoot, but not to kill. But I knew straightaway that the shot to Ramos was life-threatening.” Agent Young clasps his hands together. “And I didn’t want them to mess up with you, too. So I stepped in. I shot you.”

  Even with Petrov and De Luca vouching for him, I find it hard to believe Dan/Marcus. The man shot me, for goodness’ sake. I don’t respond. Instead I say, “So the man in the warehouse. That was Moto?” Thinking of his voice sends a cold shiver down my spine.

  “Yes. And Takeshi Suzuki was there, too.”

  I nod, small fast movements, but then my thoughts immediately go back to Ramos. “Ramos took three bullets.” I bite my lip. Three’s a lot.

  “No. One bullet,” Agent Young says. “The other two shots were for Jason Pham of the Asian Boyz and Ichi Noda from the Yakuza. The boss didn’t want any leads from you and Ramos back to us. So he ordered them to be taken out, just in case someone saw them bring you to the warehouse. A Yakuza guy called Ken Tanabe shot them, and then turned his gun on Ramos.”

  I nod, relieved it was only one bullet for Ramos and feeling only fleetingly sorry for Pham and Noda.

  I notice the faint scab forming across Young’s cheek from my nails.

  He follows my gaze and runs his finger along the one-inch wound. “You did pretty good for someone who was blindfolded.”

  I manage a small chuckle. “Thanks.”

  “Agent Young sent me a text from the car. The paramedics were there five minutes later.”

  I nod, still absorbing everything. “But we checked the War Room for undercover operatives. How come you’re not in there?”

  I ask the question of Agent Young, but it’s De Luca who replies. “We’ve kept this operation completely off the books, because of the leak.”

  Young’s taking risks. If I could have, I would have shot him—exactly the reason why the HIDTA War Room exists in the first place. But I understand they don’t have a lot of options. “Ramos,” I say. “Tell me more about Ramos.”

  There’s silence and a few glances.

  “Is he going to be okay?”