by E Y Mak
Now unencumbered with their weapons, the battle continued. Candice knew that her opponent possessed both a reach and power advantage. The only way she was coming out of this one was unpredictability. She would fight dirty.
Again the aggressor, the Phantom reached in and attempted a right cross across her face. Candice ducked the blow, then reached skyward with an open palm to the nose.
Before she could react, he grabbed her with both arms and held her tightly from behind. She tried to rotate out of his reach, getting only halfway around before he closed his grip on her. She struggled as he worked his arms up to her neck and squeezed. She felt herself weakening, momentarily bursting back to consciousness each time he renewed his squeezing.
With one of the bursts, she reached a sudden clarity of mind. Not today.
With a quick snap, she reached down and located his testicles. She grabbed and then squeezed with all of her might and felt the arms around her neck lessen just enough. She swung her head forward and then snapped it back directly onto his nose. She sensed it breaking as the back of her skull came into contact with the soft flesh in front of his face.
The Phantom screamed and let go of Candice as he fell to his knees. Candice stood up and knocked him to the ground with a swift kick to his face.
The spirit of the battle had led them about twenty yards away from where the fan blade and knife were located. She quickly ran to the knife, picked it up, and turned back towards the Phantom.
He was gone.
Not wasting any time, she continued towards the service road, running as hard as she could, occasionally looking back without any sight of the Phantom. She made it to the main road and managed to immediately flag down an aging light-blue Toyota Corolla driven by a bearded college-aged male. The kid’s eyes widened as he saw the blood streaming from Candice’s nose and abdomen. He opened the passenger door, signaling with his arms for her to get in. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“I need you to take me to the nearest police station. Now. Please.”
“Shit, okay,” he exclaimed before flooring the gas pedal.
Chapter Forty
Five minutes later, Candice was still in a state of distress. She alternated between reclining the passenger’s seat entirely to lie down and sitting straight up to look out the rear of the vehicle. Every passing car made her heart skip a beat.
“You should call someone. Do you have a phone? You can borrow mine,” the driver, who had introduced himself as Isaac, said.
“I’m okay,” she said, “I have one.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a dog-eared business card and the Phantom’s Nokia cell phone.
She powered on the phone. The first thing she looked at was the messaging application. The message history only went back one month. But even that was long for a burner phone. Someone labeled “Warden” was the only contact on the phone.
September 1, 14:12
Warden:5959 Maple, male
September 22, 02:33 am
Response:Done
He did it. There’s no doubt about it now. But why?
There were no phone calls in the call log and no other texts. She turned to the crumpled-up business card. Canadian Packaging Services Ltd.—Edwin Borianta.
She dialed the ten-digit phone number. Somewhere, her phone was now set to self-destruct, and would do so the minute it was turned on.
“We’re here,” Isaac said as he turned into the parking lot of the Hoboken City Police Department.
Chapter Forty-One
Manhattan
Approximately three years earlier
Russell sat in his office and opened up the last unread email.
From: Daniel Peters
To:Russell Woo
Subject:Ricardo
Hey,
Just got out of the department meeting. Looks like Ricardo’s Hong Kong transfer is confirmed. Come chat with me when you have a second, thanks.
Daniel
Russell sat in his office. He wasn’t surprised about the transfer but was shocked by the quickness at which it occurred. After recovering from the injury he had sustained protecting Mark Lawrence, Ricardo had asked for reassignment. He saw it as a personal failure, and Hong Kong was pretty much as far away from New York as Ricardo could get. He was a loner that could drop anything and pick up his life in another city. A gypsy. A rogue. There was always something a little bit off about him. He was a hothead.
A loose cannon.
Russell glanced at the Speedmaster on his left wrist. He had just finished the first draft of a diligence report on a hostile takeover. Now was a good a time as any to go see Daniel.
After a quick stop at the Starbucks on floor sixty-eight, he was sitting down in his usual leather back chair in Daniel’s office. Daniel put his feet up on the table and spoke.
“This is good news for you,” said Daniel.
“It’s bittersweet. I always thought Ricardo was a good agent, if a bit gung-ho,” said Russell, trying to be as diplomatic as possible.
“He may have been a good agent, but he wasn’t a good investigator. Didn’t have the patience or brains for it. We gave him slack because his files generate a lot of money for Phineas, but he was always a collateral-damage risk. I suppose he’s Hong Kong’s problem now.”
Russell took a sip of his dark roast.
“Your name came up a lot today,” Daniel said.
“In glowing terms, I’m sure,” Russell mocked himself.
“Actually, yeah,” Daniel said, opening his eyes widely. “Ricardo was always considered the rising star here. No one had his tactical experience—there just aren’t many former Army Rangers turned SWAT commanders agreeing to make the switch here. Sure, we got a lot of cops, but there’s not always enough action here to satisfy the next level that a guy like Ricardo craves. I mean, he volunteered for the Lawrence protection detail when no one else did.”
Russell nodded. Ricardo was recognized as the pinnacle of strength and fitness at Phineas. Many had tried but never were able to best Ricardo in the hand-to-hand sparring sessions. Ricardo’s marksmen score in 2006 also remained unmatched by any one other than himself, having beaten his own records successively in 2008, 2011 and 2013. An excellent soldier and an expert tactician, Ricardo had always been first-in-line for the high-risk, high-reward assignments.
“You, you’re different. They see you as a new generation. A generation focused more on investigations and less on throwing enough bodies at a file. There are no professionals of your abilities and experience willing to give up the safety of the office to go out into the field. You represent unique expertise—an in-depth understanding of corporate affairs, intelligence, and intellectual property. Most importantly, you understand politics. And you may be the one to help out with the New York surveillance contract negotiations in three years.”
Russell was feeling uncomfortable. He knew that Daniel was still glowing from the directors meeting, where more than a few had likely patted him on the back for picking out Russell from the Phineas class of 2011. Daniel craved attention and always savored an opportunity for an ego boost.
“Nonetheless,” said Daniel, “the partners were disappointed in his request, as they continued to see the value in having Ricardo in the New York office—someone to eventually lead Protection.”
“He was definitely results oriented,” said Russell.
“Anyway, the sole reason for telling you this is so you don’t let me down. Stars rise fast, but everyone likes seeing them fall as well.” Daniel emphasized the word fall. “Now get out of my office. I have work to do,” Daniel said jokingly.
“Thanks for the chat.”
Secretly, Russell knew that Ricardo had taken offense to the praise lavished upon Russell for his management of the Lawrence protection after Ricardo had gone down. That was the nexus—the fork that had created this rift between Ricardo and Russell. Ricardo had reacted by leaving behind burned bridges. Leaving New York.
It was on Russell to not do the s
ame.
Chapter Forty-Two
Mong Kok, Hong Kong
October 16, present day
Russell ran slightly ahead of Benita through the winding, twisted alleys and lanes. He leveraged his innate familiarity with this part of town, having spent his teenage summers here. The inner streets of Mong Kok were a labyrinth of streets and alleyways, incense and butcher shops, 7-Elevens and Circle-Ks, McDonald's and Hong Kong–style cafés. One block could have three or more identical jewelry stores, and each street blended into the next.
Russell and Benita quickened their pace as loud police sirens rang in the distance. He looked around him frequently, trying to get a glimpse of the inevitable drone, but didn’t see one. Nevertheless, he stayed close to the buildings, hiding under as many shop canopies and roofs as he could.
After three blocks of zigzagging through the crowds of tai tais, delivery boys, businessmen, and tourists, the pair slowed down to help an old man who had fallen and was lying in a recessed door opening. He thanked them in Cantonese and hobbled down the street towards the market. Russell decided that now was a good time to catch their breath. Although he had not quite yet thought of how to get there, Russell knew his destination.
“We’ve got to get off the street,” he said. “I have an old friend of mine from high school we can meet.”
“Whereabouts is his place?" Benita did not sound convinced.
“He’s in Sai Kung. It’s going to be a bit of a journey to get there. We’ll need to keep low and stay hidden,” Russell said, before looking at Benita and adding, “He has resources that can help us.”
“Okay. I feel a bit conspicuous, though,” she said.
Russell thought about it. Although there were a lot of expats and tourists in the city, Benita stood out. Her tattered leather jacket accentuated her glamorous looks, and their hurried pace caught the eyes of most passersby.
Russell motioned to the lobby of a small apartment building. The door was unlocked and they both snuck in. Next to the main entrance was a small utility closet. He motioned for her to step inside.
“Hide in here for a second. We’re at the Lady’s Market. I’m going to see if I can find you a change of clothes.”
Before leaving, Russell took off his jacket and handed it over to Benita. He too felt conspicuous—a fully-suited man in a full-speed gallop in a Hong Kong back alley was a little too James Bond for Mong Kok. His dress shirt and wrinkled dress pants were only marginally better camouflage than Benita’s tattered clothing. But it would have to do for now.
Russell walked peeked out to the lobby door before reentering the alley. He calmly walked back up to the main road, Fife Street. Even in the evening, the street was populated by masses upon masses of people, most concerned with shopping or texting. Russell walked right past a hawker stand and took in the spicy smell of curried fish balls. The adrenaline had momentarily subsided, and his stomach growled slightly with hunger. He decided against stopping for food and instead ducked into a floor-level retail mall away from the street. He strolled inside, passing by two overnight men’s tailors before he came across a clothing store full of knock-off clothing.
A middle-aged lady shooed him inside with the native retail call of leng jai (handsome man) and immediately pointed him to a line of cheap-looking pleather motorcycle jackets. He shook his head and instead walked towards the women’s section.
Three minutes later, he had exited with pairs of jeans and fisherman hats for the two of them and a purple sweater for Benita.
As he exited the mall, he turned the corner and immediately froze. Not ten yards away from him was Ricardo and another Phineas agent, wearing the black Phineas uniform required in Hong Kong. They were accompanied by two Hong Kong police officers in their army-green uniforms and were in conversation with the old man running the fish-ball stand.
Ricardo was pointing at two photos he held in his hand, his face almost comically animated trying to communicate with the shopkeeper.
The old man looked straight at Russell as he began speaking.
Chapter Forty-Three
Instead of motioning towards Russell, the old man pointed in the opposite direction. Ricardo scowled and ran down the street with a limp, his junior partner running three steps behind him. The two police officers had a few more words with the old man before hurriedly running in the same direction as the Phineas agents. After they left, the old man turned to Russell and gave an almost imperceptible nod. Russell nodded back at the man he had helped earlier in the alleyway.
Phineas had developed a hated reputation in Hong Kong. The city had been an economic powerhouse in the latter half of the twentieth century, emerging as a British colony. A fear of political and economic reprisals had dominated the city before its return to Chinese rule in 1997, and an entire wave of emigration to Europe and North America was predicated on avoiding Chinese rule. A communist police state where civil rights were second to the whims of the government was a constant source of anxiety to some citizens of Hong Kong.
Phineas HK was tied indirectly to the mistrust of the Hong Kong populace. Although it did not directly control the Observer, Phineas had licensed their surveillance technology to the MSS in the late 1990s. Launching the Guardian in its current form had taken Phineas over twenty years; the Chinese only took eight years to christen the Observer. The distrust of Phineas manifested itself both in widespread protests at the Hong Kong office and, on a more macro level, with a general noncooperative attitude between citizens and Phineas agents.
Luckily the old man didn’t know who I was.
Russell found his way to the back alley and backtracked to the apartment building where he had left Benita. He reentered the lobby and walked quickly to the closet door. He knocked gently on the rotten wood.
No answer.
He knocked a second time. This time, he whispered, “Benita?”
Still no answer.
A third knock, louder this time. No response.
Where would she go?
“Benita, stand back,” he said, this time with more authority.
Russell assessed the door. The hinges were on the inside. Good. He did not want to injure his foot trying to break down a door that swung outwards. The door felt hollow and weak. It would not take much force to knock it down. He took five steps back before sprinting forward, head tucked in his shoulder. The door split cleanly into two, jagged splinters flying everywhere.
Inside, Russell looked around the unoccupied closet. Unless there had been an emergency, Benita wouldn’t have left. There was nothing around that gave any indication of where she would have gone.
Russell turned slowly, taking in a full view of his surroundings. In the corner of his eye, he saw a navy-blue Padres baseball cap strewn midway up the staircase. After picking it up, Russell noticed the crimson streak that had formed under the bill, blood from Benita’s head crashing against the side of the Mercedes.
He stuffed the clothes inside his now bulging briefcase and rushed to the staircase. A mixture of burning incense and cigarette smoke greeted him as he crept up the stairs.
Chapter Forty-Four
Meanwhile in New York
After giving a statement at the Hoboken police station, Candice Pirelli was transferred in custody to the 121st NYPD precinct in Staten Island. There, she was left in a cold, uncomfortable, and sterile meeting room. A single metal table and four chairs centered the room. After letting her in, they shut the door and locked it from the outside. There she sat for the next hour. No one else joined her.
This is weird, she thought. These stalling techniques were used to extract information from a combative witness or to pressure a suspect into a confession. This made no sense. She was the victim here. Why were they treating her like this? She had already given a statement.
She stood up from the metal table and paced. After the first hour, she walked to the door of the room and began pounding. Was someone going to come to talk to her? She continued pounding for thirty seconds and then sto
pped abruptly. She was starving and thirsty.
Two hours after she had entered the room, two men walked in. Both were dressed in business suits. Charcoal color. Or dark. She couldn’t tell—the lighting wasn’t bright. The first was a wiry man with a bushy mustache and looked to be in his early forties. From the sloppy mustard stain hanging off the side of his mustache, she suspected the facial hair was a new addition to his appearance. He introduced himself as Robert Garcia. He was a senior detective with the NYPD. He seemed professional and spoke in a soft, pleasant voice.
The second was a man in his midfifties. He had grey hair and a speckled black-and-white beard, blue eyes, and yellow teeth. He smelled of cigarettes and had an air of authority. He introduced himself gruffly as Bob Regan, a senior investigator with Phineas. Rob and Bob, she thought.
Bob sat back in his chair. He looked away from her as he spoke. “Candice, we sent a team of Phineas agents to scour the abandoned high school with the Hoboken PD. There’s nothing there but old gym equipment and musky smells. We didn’t find a dungeon or a kill room. There’s nothing to suggest that the site was used to hold anyone, let along commit murder.”