The Snakeheads

by Mary Moylum

  Pumped up for battle on this point, Grace said in a calm, clear voice, “Then I’ll have to subpoena them.”

  “You can’t be serious!” shouted Verster.

  “I am. And I just did.” She smiled smugly to herself. The subpoena had caught them flatfooted. Fuck with me and kill my friend and this is what you get. Yes, she had gotten them by the balls.

  Back in her office, Grace heard the radio newscaster announce in sombre tones the death of one of the country’s philanthropists. She said a prayer as she picked up the phone and called her mother.

  “Mom, I’ve something to tell you.”

  “Grace, it’s all over the news. Your father and I have been trying to reach you all morning.”

  “Mom, I’m at work.”

  “Take leave, Grace, and come home.”

  “I can’t, mom. Not right now.”

  “Grace, answer me. The newscast said that there was a woman with him in the car. Was that you?”

  “Yes, it was.” Grace gave her mother a sanitized version of Wa Sing assisting the police in the illegal campaign contribution inquiry, and how they were booking him into a hotel when the car blew up. And how she had happened to be in the hotel while Wa Sing waited in the car for her to return.

  The sound of her mother sobbing into the phone unleashed a fresh wave of tears. Grace reached for the box of Kleenex on her desk.

  “The newscaster said it could be the work of triads. Is that true, Grace?”

  “There’s a strong possibility of that, mom,” said Grace reluctantly, not wanting to discuss the specifics of the case with her mother.

  “We don’t need Asian trash in this country.”

  Grace said nothing. It was not the time to remind her mother of an earlier conversation where she wanted her to go positive on Sun Sui.

  Her mother’s voice was stronger now. “If Wa Sing was murdered, and you know something, Grace, you’ll have tell the authorities. You can’t do nothing.”

  “Mom, I’m doing everything I can. Trust me on that.”

  In the beginning, BJ had worried about getting caught. But over the years he’d learned to enjoy the cat-and-mouse game. It was like a challenge — he dared the cops to find him.

  He stood with the throng of noisy picketers outside the Immigration and Refugee Commission. This time, he had brought a sign. It read, “Criminals Go Home.” He pulled his Dodgers baseball cap down low over his sunglasses.

  The bald man picketing alongside him asked, “You coming back tomorrow for the rally?”

  “Maybe. What’s it about?”

  “Against immigration policy.”

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “Me too. I drove all the way in from Kingston. We gotta defend the country for our white brothers and sisters.”

  “I’m with you, brother.”

  They gave each other a high five.

  “She has to come out soon,” said the bald man. “Unless she’s going to sleep on her office floor.”

  Someone yelled, “Everybody get into position for the cameras. Hold the placards high so the cameras can read them.”

  The crowd roared, capturing the attention of the TV crew. Someone in the crowd yelled, “We ain’t got enough food to feed our children. But foreigners can come here and steal food from us by sitting on the dole or stealing our jobs and putting us in the soup lines.”

  “Yeah! And if that ain’t bad enough, they do the crime but not the time. I say we save public money and deport the sucker!”

  The placard-carrying crowd cheered. Then they joined hands as if they were in a national unity rally, and started to sing “O Canada!”

  Building security warned Grace to delay her departure from the building by five or ten minutes. Enough time for the police to break up the crowd. When they got there a few minutes later, officers with bullhorns called on the crowd to disperse. “Move on, before we charge all of you with trespassing on public property.”

  After another police unit showed up, the crowd began to thin as people left for the day, but not before grumbling to the reporters.

  BJ hung back and waited for the judge to exit the building. As soon as she did, the press pounced on her. He watched from across the street. Then he decided to trail the media who were trailing her. Piece of cake. The icing came when he spotted the goon who had whacked Harry that night.

  Across town that afternoon, Nick was meeting with Dubois and his colleagues at RCMP headquarters.

  “This whole damn thing sucks,” said Dubois.

  Nick nodded.

  They waited as the other officers filed into the room. When everyone was seated, Nick opened the meeting. “According to Rocco, Li Mann Vu posed as Li Thu and left Pearson International on a direct flight to Seattle the same day that Wa Sing was flying in. From the ticket he purchased in Chinatown, his final destination was Vietnam.” He threw up his hands. “That means we’ve lost him. We can go through the motions and seek extradition, but I’m not holding my breath on that. Vietnam is a whole different ball game. The leadership does whatever they want to do. That means our entire focus is on Sun Sui. He’s all we’ve got.”

  Nick sat down, turning over the meeting to Dubois. It was his show. He stood and paused for effect before beginning, “Not only is this a murder investigation, but it’s also an investigation into a cop killer,” said Dubois. “And an investigation into organized criminal activity.” He picked up a manual, which he waved in the air as he spoke. “The bomb was detonated by remote control. We know Sun Sui ordered the hit even though he didn’t push the remote. Right now, Sun’s got our own officers as an alibi.”

  “I don’t get it. How did he plan it if he was under round-the-clock surveillance and his hotel phone was tapped?” asked one of the junior officers.

  “Nick, feed the videotape into the machine, will ya?”

  As Nick adjusted the channel on the television, Dubois went on, “The guy’s no idiot. It’s us who fucked up. Here he is. First day of his hearing at 10:30 a.m., according to the timer, he’s downstairs in the lobby of the IRC and he’s making a phone call in the pay phone just down from the elevators. Call lasted ten minutes. Unfortunately the phone company ain’t too helpful on getting us a list of numbers dialled on that phone.”

  Dubois ejected the tape and fed another one into the machine. “Same thing here. Our guy making a phone call from another pay phone on day two of his hearing. From the security camera, this call lasts about fifteen minutes. Who the hell is he talking to? Whoever it is, it’s the one that takes the orders and passes it down the line. From the way he’s standing we can’t get a good look at the numbers he’s dialling. That means, we don’t know if it was a local call or long distance. Either way, our guy’s barking the contract kill order into the phone, and our people are alibiing for him.”

  Nick said, “A motorcyclist was seen in the vicinity just before the bomb went off. But he was wearing a helmet and goggles. My hunch is it was Li Mann tying up loose ends. However, we can’t prove it. Nor have the Flying Dragons admitted responsibility for the bombing. But we’re sure they were behind it.”

  One of the officers pessimistically remarked, “So what if it was a Flying Dragons hit? What are the chances of us catching this cop killer? We’ve been up against organized crime long enough to know of cases where these killers fly in on phony passports, do a hit, and get on the next plane out. Maybe he’s already left the country.”

  “Maybe he hasn’t and we’ll get lucky,” snapped Dubois. “We lost one of our own, remember? That means we’re going to work the case to death. Now I suggest we contact police detachments across the country and pull every member of every triad in for questioning. Extensive questioning.”

  “We can do that,” said one of the homicide detectives. “Not only questioning, guys. I also want the lieutenants of the Dragons under watch.”

  “Good idea,” said Dubois. “I want it set up ASAP, before midnight.”

  The meeting ended and the officers went to work
immediately. Nick was pessimistic, but at least, he reflected, with bitter satisfaction, the bodies were piling up around Sun Sui. There was no way Grace could grant him asylum now. Sun’s knowledge of police movements, even when he was under house arrest, was infuriating. He was goading them, mocking them.

  He made it back to Grace’s place at six that evening. He found her leaning against the kitchen counter, talking to the funeral home. She was dressed in a black T-shirt and jeans. Her hair hung loose around her face. There was exhaustion and gentleness in her face, and a certain vulnerability.

  “Let’s go out for dinner,” said Nick.

  “You buying?”

  “I’m open to persuasion.” He pulled her into his arms.

  Hand in hand they walked down her neighbourhood street. Fuck Cadeux! She was going to see whomever she pleased. Her personal life was her own business.

  They walked in silence down to her favourite Indian curry house. The evening was relatively cool, with a fresh breeze coming off the river. Rollerbladers rushed by them and joggers cut across their path, all on their way somewhere.

  Over dinner he told her about the meeting at RCMP headquarters. Grace could not reciprocate with news of her day. Nick understood this. Still, he found her mood vague and distant throughout the meal. When coffee was on the table, he took her hand and said, “We’re going to get the man who killed Wa Sing. I promise, Grace.”

  “I know, Nick. I’m just thinking about this number Wa Sing gave me in the police car before he was killed. He told me to call the number. I did. Twice from a pay phone. Both times, no answer. Not even a recorded message.” Grace shook her head. “There wasn’t enough time for him to tell me who the number belonged to. You were getting back into the cruiser.”

  Nick took the number from her. “It’s a government number.”

  “I know.”

  He jotted the number down on a paper napkin and gave her back the original. I’ll have Rocco look into it.”

  She squeezed his hand affectionately. “Thanks, Nick.”

  “We’ll survive this thing. And we’ll get him. Don’t worry, Grace.”

  Outside the restaurant, she reached up and kissed him. “What about us? Do you think it’s too late for us, Nick?”

  “You know I still love you. I know we’ve hurt each other and there’s some scar tissue. Grace, I’d like us to start all over again and be more careful about us.”

  She nodded. “I love you.”

  Nick kissed her on the lips, softly at first, and then passionately. “Come on, let’s go home.”

  chapter twenty-eight

  Jean Cadeux banged down the phone and ordered her to shut the door. He scowled at her under heavy brows. “You’ve disobeyed my instructions.”

  “What instructions were those?”

  “I told you to get this hearing over with quickly. Instead, I hear that you’ve now subpoenaed the claimant’s phone records. Phone records from the claimant’s household are meaningless.”

  “Sir, I’m surprised that you would monitor the progress of the case on a daily basis.” She groaned to herself. The man was a true micro-manager and control freak. For the first time she wondered if he might be something worse. She’d always assumed he was concerned only with protecting his own skin. Could he be protecting someone else as well?

  “I’ve no choice but to file a grievance to the judicial committee regarding your conduct in the hearing room,” he was saying in a threatening tone.

  “What conduct is that? Doing my job? Looking into his membership in a criminal organization such as the Flying Dragons?”

  He glared at her with steely eyes. “None of this speculation is relevant. We don’t have enough hearing rooms as it is, and some of the lawyers are starting to complain that adjournments are taking too long.”

  “I find that hard to believe,” she countered, trying to figure out what was behind this latest hissy fit. She held her silence as he grabbed a copy of the subpoena off his desk, his hands shaking with anger.

  She began to relax. If he wanted to reprimand her over subpoenaing his pet asylum claimant, fine. The publicity would reflect badly on him. What was her crime? “Too thorough an examination of the evidence and legal issues.” Whose side would the court of public opinion take? She didn’t see any point in defending her actions. His mind was already made up.

  “Will that be all, sir?” She didn’t wait for an answer. She rose and walked toward the door.

  “You can expect a letter next week from the committee regarding your judicial conduct.”

  She didn’t bother responding as she closed the door behind her.

  On the way out, she made a mental note to watch her back more carefully with him. In this town, no one got power without seeking it out, or hung onto it without compromising in some way, big or small, and Cadeux was the personification of the slow and steady accretion of power and privilege at the expense of others. Always seeking the next connection that would pull him into the light. The kind of man who would serve his master with slavish devotion until the day he could stab him in the back and take his place.

  Back in her office, she switched on her computer. Sun’s claim was heading south. She found it more efficient to update the findings of fact electronically, and while the evidence was still fresh in her head. She took care in composing her legal arguments because she wanted them to hold up at the Federal Court of Appeal. It took her over two hours to write the first draft. Since it was a controversial case, she knew the media would file for a copy through an access to information request. Last thing she wanted to do was to embarrass herself with sloppy thinking and writing. Three quarters of the way through the analysis, she took a break and made a cup of Darjeeling tea. Half an hour later, back at her desk, she clicked on the keyboard.

  Shit!

  Her file was gone. Not again. She hated to call Systems. The last time she called them, the young man on the help desk had told her disrespectfully that she had saved it in the wrong subdirectory or something like that. Something he considered childishly dimwitted. After several frustrating minutes she gave up and impatiently punched the number for assistance.

  “Look, I can’t find a file. Help me.” She was angry with her techno-stupidity.

  He took her through the paces.

  “I should clean out my directory. Look, I know I saved it on the hard drive and I’ve checked every subdirectory. Now I can’t seem to get back into my menu to pull up the file. I think my machine is frozen. Damn! Just look for the Sun Sui file for me, will you? What?” Graced tugged at her hair. “Shit! It’s going to take time? Time I don’t have. I’ll call you back in an hour.” After hanging up the phone she stood in front of the window and screamed at her reflection. “You’re losing it!”

  She thought she knew the procedure to get into the new legal software. Grace sighed, if only that was all she had to contend with. But no, Wa Sing was dead. The claimant was a criminal, lying through his teeth under oath. Her lover had found her out to be a cowardly liar. Cadeux wanted her to be a sycophant, not a judge, the pompous little turd. If he fired her, what next? She didn’t know, but she knew that she couldn’t put up with him as her boss for another two years.

  She stared out the window, clutching an elbow, cheek propped up in her hand. According to the newspapers, Li Mann had fled the country. She prayed that the RCMP was right about that. What about Harry Kitchin’s accomplice? She hadn’t had another incident since the night of the fatal shooting from either of them. Those thoughts led to the next two questions: Could she be sure that that was the end of being stalked? And what beef did Kitchin’s accomplice have with her anyway?

  She tied her unruly hair in a ponytail, and sat in her chair, eyes closed. She carefully considered the situation and decided that Kitchin’s accomplice was not a threat. Li Mann, on the other hand, could be a problem if he was still in the country. Obviously, an international arrest warrant wasn’t much of a deterrent in his case. After several minutes of deep breathing
exercises, she opened her eyes again. Reaching into her jacket pocket, she stared at the telephone number again. She was tempted to dial the number but did not want to reveal her identity. With caller ID, that was impossible from her work phone. She would try again from another pay phone on the way home .

  While she waited for the systems people to run diagnostics on her machine, she reread her handwritten notes. She wondered if it really was plausible that the authorities could be both Sun’s agent of persecution and his business partners. Who knew? Maybe it was possible. Maybe he fucked his partners over, and that’s why he feared returning home to Hong Kong or China. But with Wa Sing dead, she didn’t want to give Sun the benefit of the doubt. All she wanted now was to turn him down and deport him out of the country. Hopefully, those phone records would be the noose she was looking for. Yes, she had made the right decision to subpoena them.

  An hour and a half later, she was still waiting for her computer to be up and running. It sure would be nice to go for a walk in the park. But she couldn’t even do that because the press was waiting to ambush her downstairs.

  In short, she was a prisoner in her own office. And in her home. Grabbing a legal size notepad, she decided to work at her desk the old fashioned way; she wasn’t up to facing the newshounds downstairs.

  The Red Prince tore off the chauffeur’s jacket. He was already late for his meeting, and he grumbled as he got caught at the lights. Everything was unravelling too fast. His charmed life was disintegrating before his eyes. He sighed heavily as he sat in traffic. Finally, the green light winked. He stamped on the gas and took off. A few minutes later he pulled into the far end of the parking lot at the golf course. His contact was already there, waiting for him.

  Cadeux climbed into the Mercedes. He looked disgruntled. He loved money, but apparently murder unnerved him.

  Sun turned an ironic smile on Cadeux. “A perfectly planned operation, wouldn’t you say? Of course, I should have killed her too. Sometimes life can be measured in minutes. If she and the immigration officer had remained in the car for a few more minutes, all three would’ve died.”