The Killing Hands

by P. D. Martin

  “Jae, we have something to tell you.” I sigh, wanting to spare her feelings but knowing that there’s no way I can. “Something you won’t like.”

  “Yes?”

  “We believe Takeshi Suzuki did seek you out. He’s been running drugs on the side, without his boss’s knowledge, and he was worried we knew…or would discover it. You were his insurance.”

  “No.” She shakes her head. “You’re wrong. We’re in love. If it wasn’t for Hana, I wouldn’t be telling you any of this. But I can’t hurt my sister. Not even for him. Not anymore.”

  I take a deep breath. “Suzuki has another mistress. There’s his wife, you and another woman.”

  She keeps shaking her head. “No. That can’t be right. He’s married, but he never loved his wife. They got married because their families wanted them to.”

  I shrug. “I don’t know about his wife, but I do know he’s seeing another woman.”

  “You’re wrong. And how do you know that? Whenever I accessed Hana’s files, there was never anything about surveillance on Takeshi.”

  “We had an undercover agent in the Yakuza.” Petrov says it quietly, almost gently.

  “No. There was nothing like that. I checked. Takeshi made me check!”

  Petrov leans forward. “Your sister didn’t know, Ms. Kim. Only a handful of us did.” Petrov takes a breath. “And our agent will look you in the face and tell you all about Takeshi’s other mistress and the drug running.”

  Her hands come up to her face and she gently rubs them up and down her bruised cheeks. “This can’t be right. He loves me. And only me.” She falters. “No, I won’t believe you.”

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Kim.” Petrov leaves and returns a few minutes later with Agent Young. Like Jae, he sports many bruises and also wears a plaster cast on his arm, from his wrist to his bicep.

  “Do you recognize her, Dan?”

  Young looks closely at Jae. “No. He kept everyone in the dark about her. Not surprising, given who her sister is. I’d say only his personal chauffeur knows.”

  Jae scrunches her face a little. “Takeshi did have someone in the car with him. Always the same man. And sometimes I would meet the driver at a park if I had information and Takeshi couldn’t get away from his wife.”

  Young gives her a single nod. “Ms. Kim, I’m Special Agent Dan Young and I’ve been undercover in the Yakuza for twelve months. Trying to find you, actually.”

  “I…I don’t understand.”

  “I was brought in from New York to find the Gang Impact Team’s mole.”

  “Takeshi did mention one man from New York. A Miki.”

  Young smiles. “That’s my alias. That’s me.”

  “You’re…you’re DEA?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “You work with my sister?”

  “Not exactly. I haven’t met Special Agent Kim yet.” He smiles, a gentle smile. “But I have been close to Takeshi Suzuki and I can tell you that he loves his wife and he has a mistress in Long Beach.”

  Jae looks intently into Young’s eyes. “You’re telling the truth? This isn’t some trick to get me to make a statement against Takeshi?”

  “I’m telling you the truth. Swear to God.” He looks around at us before continuing. “But we do need you to make an official statement and we’d like you to testify down the track, too. Trust me, I’ve seen what Takeshi Suzuki is capable of—the man needs to be in prison, and with both of our testimonies, and Mee Kim’s, we can ensure maximum charges and penalties. My testimony will only be half the story.”

  It’d be nice to get Suzuki for Jun Saito’s murder. He may not have pulled the trigger, or in this case delivered the fatal blow, but he did contract Park Ling to do just that. And the fact that Jae knows who Jun Saito is, knows about the history between the two…that’s gonna put him away.

  She hesitates. “I don’t know. Are you sure about Takeshi and this other woman?”

  I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this. “We have photos, Jae. Photos of him with her.”

  Her lip quivers. “I need to see them.”

  Petrov gets a file out of his briefcase. “Are you sure?”

  “I have to see for myself.”

  He hands Jae two photos. One shows Takeshi kissing the other woman, and another one shows them holding hands.

  Jae looks away. “I’ll tell you whatever you need to know.”

  “Jae, I think we need to get you a lawyer.” I can’t hold my tongue on the subject any longer. “I assume you realize that you’re an accessory to much of what Takeshi has done. A lawyer will cut you a deal.”

  She shakes her head. “No lawyers. You tell me what you need and what my charges will be.”

  Petrov leans back. “Do you know for sure that Takeshi contracted someone to kill Saito?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you’d testify to that?”

  “Yes.”

  Getting the second-in-charge of the L.A. Yakuza for murder-for-hire is a huge catch. One that I think Petrov, or anyone, would deal for aggressively. And like Young said, his testimony will only tell one side of the story.

  “We’ll only charge you with accessory to kidnapping Mee Kim.”

  She nods. “Okay.”

  A lawyer may well have been able to get her off scot-free, but I keep my mouth shut. Maybe down the track Jae’s deal will get better.

  “So,” Petrov says, “let’s start with Jun Saito. Do you know how Takeshi Suzuki found him? Got him to come to L.A.?”

  “Yes. Takeshi got a phone call from a friend who was on vacation in Singapore. He saw Saito, recognized him, and realized what the information would mean to Takeshi, what it was worth. So he followed Saito and contacted Takeshi. One day, when Saito was out, this guy broke into Saito’s home and found out about Mee.”

  “And Suzuki wanted Saito dead?”

  “Yes. But he wanted to see him for himself first, so he lured him to L.A.”

  “And do you know the name of the hit man?”

  She shakes her head. “No. He told me that Saito was a bad man, a murderer, and that the justice system had failed to make him pay. It’s Saito’s fault that Takeshi’s even in the Yakuza.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “Takeshi knew his sister was seeing someone in the Yakuza, so when she went missing he immediately suspected their involvement. Takeshi offered his services in exchange for information. He got the information—found out his sister was dead, killed by Jun Saito. Then Takeshi had to come to L.A. to pay off his debt to the Yakuza. Like I said, if it wasn’t for Jun Saito, Takeshi would never have gotten mixed up in the Yakuza or anything illegal.”

  Even after finding out Takeshi’s got another mistress, Jae’s still defending him. It’s hard to know how much of what Takeshi Suzuki told Jae is true. While it does gel with the Japanese cop’s belief that Takeshi Suzuki wasn’t involved with the Yakuza in Tokyo, Suzuki always had choices. And then there’s Saito’s girlfriend.

  “Did you know Saito’s girlfriend was killed?” I ask. “Presumably by Suzuki.”

  Jae furrows her brow. “Takeshi never said anything about a girlfriend.” She shakes her head. “He wouldn’t…couldn’t…”

  “Maybe he didn’t want you to know that part of the story,” Petrov says. “Didn’t want you to know that he organized the murder of Saito’s girlfriend, a pregnant woman.”

  Jae winces.

  “So, you knew Suzuki hired someone to kill Saito?” Petrov brings Jae back to the here and now.

  “Yes.” She hangs her head.

  “And you’d definitely be willing to swear to that in court?” Petrov confirms.

  “Yes.” Jae tears up. Her world is crumbling around her. She believed Suzuki, she loved him.

  Our search warrant is exhaustive, covering Suzuki’s entire property and his computers, so hopefully we’ll find some damning evidence. Given my lack of field fitness, I’m not officially part of the raid team, but Petrov has allowed me to “bring up the rear.”
I wear my bulletproof vest just in case.

  The house is quiet and dark, with only a single light on in the kitchen. However, the curtains are drawn and we can’t see inside. We file into the property’s garden and make our way toward the house. Once everyone’s in position, the team leader gives the order. It’s 7:00 p.m., so we’ll probably catch Suzuki and his family by surprise, sitting around the dinner table. Who knows if he’s worried about the hit or is even aware that things didn’t go as planned last night.

  The front door gives and the team files in. There are eight of us taking the front door, six at the back door and another eight are stationed around the building’s perimeter, ready to catch anyone who tries to make a run for it.

  The front foyer is opulent, an ornate staircase leading upstairs, marble everywhere and tall ceilings. The SWAT leader puts his finger to his lips and, sure enough, we hear it.

  A woman crying.

  He mouths “Go” and leads us around the corner, toward the kitchen. I’m the last one into the kitchen, but instead of walking in on dinner, a woman sobs over Takeshi Suzuki’s body.

  “Who did this?” I demand.

  His wife, now widow, looks up and notices the room full of law enforcement for the first time. Her eyes focus on me and she shakes her head.

  “Where are the children, Mrs. Suzuki?”

  “Not here. My husband—” she strokes his head “—he told me to take the kids to my mom’s house for the night. He must have known. But I knew something was wrong so I came back, alone.”

  “And he was already dead?”

  She nods and covers her face with her hands.

  “Who did this?” I repeat my original question, even though I’ve got a feeling I know the answer.

  She looks up at me, tears streaming down her face. “He’s untouchable.”

  Moto. He said he’d keep his affairs in-house, and this is how an organized crime boss cleans up. Maybe he knows about Suzuki’s skimming, maybe not. Either way, in his mind he’s righted a wrong, meted out his version of justice. But where does it end? Jun Saito was no saint, that’s for sure. He was made to pay for taking Ima Yamada’s life with the death of his girlfriend and unborn child. But that wasn’t enough for Takeshi. He needed to kill Saito, too.

  Takeshi got his revenge, but what about Mee? She may not have known her father, but I was hoping she’d see Suzuki behind bars.

  Where’s Mee’s justice?

  Thirty-Seven

  Darren’s breathing evens off. “I guess we can give tender a go next time.”

  I laugh. “Guess so.” I look around my apartment at the clothes scattered through the room and Darren’s overnight bag still at the door. At least we closed the front door. “It has been two weeks.”

  “Two weeks and one day.”

  “It was that one day that tipped us over.”

  He smiles and brings me in for a kiss. “So, you’re better?”

  “Almost one hundred percent. Still not jogging, but I have started brisk walks and pilates. Jogging’s next week.”

  He strokes the scar on my left shoulder. “It’s pretty small.”

  “The doctor was a whiz.” My fingers go to the small bubble of tissue. “She said I could have plastic surgery to make it virtually invisible.”

  “You going to?”

  “Nah. It adds character…doesn’t it?”

  Darren manages a small snort. “Well, it’s a war wound. You’ve had your fair share of trouble.”

  I shrug. “Maybe. But that’s all in the past.”

  Darren turns away suddenly and sits up.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “AmericanPsycho’s not in the past.” He turns back to me.

  “No. But next time I come up against that beast, I’m taking him down.”

  Darren’s mouth only upturns slightly. “I hate the fact that he’s out there. Doing goodness knows what. Maybe watching you.”

  “His prints and name have been flagged. No way he’s getting into the US again.”

  “It’s not impossible.”

  I don’t say anything, knowing that Park Ling managed to fool the biometric tests, and I know AmericanPsycho has an almost unlimited supply of money to throw at new identities—documents, plastic surgery, the works.

  Darren looks at me. “What?”

  “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but the hit man from my last case got into the States again. It was only facial recognition software that picked him up in the end.”

  “This is what I’m talking about.” Darren stands up and paces, but it doesn’t have the usual conviction because he’s naked.

  I can’t hide my amusement.

  “What?”

  “Sorry, it’s just that pacing doesn’t have the same sense of purpose with your clothes off.”

  He looks down. “True.” He sits next to me. “So you got your man, the hit man?”

  “Uh-huh. No confession, of course. But he had money on him with Takeshi Suzuki’s prints, plus we’ve got him on attempted murder of our undercover agent and assault on me. I don’t know if we’ll be able to bring him to trial for all the other murders—the prosecutors are still sorting through what we’ve got and working out the best way to maximize the charges. But given the circumstances, I’m sure he’ll get the maximum sentence for the attempt on Special Agent Dan Young’s life and that’s life imprisonment. I can deal with that.”

  “And what about the person who put the contract out?”

  “He’s dead.”

  “Dead?”

  “Murdered by his boss, the L.A. head of the Yakuza, Tomi Moto.”

  “Wow, so you’ve got the head of the Yakuza for murder. That’s amazing.”

  “Got?” I sigh. “Not exactly. We know he did it, and he now knows that his organization was infiltrated by a DEA agent. But we haven’t got him by any stretch of the imagination. First off, one of his foot soldiers would have actually pulled the trigger. No way he’d get directly involved. And secondly, it’s a clean, professional crime scene. No fingerprints, no DNA, no match on the bullet, no witnesses. For the moment, and maybe forever, no one will be brought to justice for Takeshi Suzuki’s murder.”

  “And how is the victim’s daughter doing?”

  “She’s okay…given what she’s been through. I think this whole thing’s changed Mee Kim. A month ago she would have been outraged at Suzuki’s murder, outraged that Moto had him killed. Now…well, you should have seen her face. I think she was actually happy that the man who ordered her father’s murder is dead, too.” I lay my head in Darren’s lap. “Vengeance was served this time, but I don’t know about justice.”

  Darren strokes my head. “At least no one walked free.”

  “Except Moto.” I look up at the ceiling.

  “Except Moto.”

  We lie on the floor, silent for some time, until Darren says, “Time for another shot at tender?”

  I smile and lean into him. “We should at least try.”

  ISBN: 978-1-4603-0800-4

  THE KILLING HANDS

  Copyright © 2009 by Phillipa Martin.

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, MIRA Books, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  MIRA and the Star Colophon are trademarks used under license and registered in Australia, New Zealand, Philippines, United States Patent and Trademark Office and in other countries.

  www.MIRABooks.com

 

 

  P.D. Martin, The Killing Hands