“Interesting,” Kang said.
“No, it’s not. I’ve got some art that will ‘wow’ you.”
Barber led us through the apartment. Paintings and photographs in frames hung on the walls. There were vases and sculptures on their own stands, but he didn’t say anything about these pieces as we passed. I had to wonder what art he was talking about.
We entered a room where the artwork on the wall took a strange turn. Replacing the paintings and photographs were a collection of wood-framed shadowboxes. Inside the glass-encased structures were cut-away scenes of different dwellings, like a diorama. The one nearest to me and Kang depicted life inside a ranch-style home, but instead of miniature human beings, there were bugs cooking, watching television, taking a shower, and so forth. Barber came up behind us.
“Pretty creepy stuff, huh?”
“Yeah, but I’m not seeing the connection to the investigation,” I said, unable to tear my gaze away from the little slice of bug life.
“That’s not the artwork I’m talking about. One of my guys found a false panel in the wall behind this painting.” Barber pulled on the large, gold frame with his latex-covered hand. It opened, revealing a wall safe behind it. “Took us a while to crack the lock. I took a peek inside but left the contents alone once I heard you two were on your way over.” He reached inside, removed a large picture album, and set it down on a nearby tabletop. “Are you ready?”
Barber lifted the leather-bound album, and the first page revealed a stark photograph of a woman, bright lights illuminating her face. She was squinting, and her mouth hung half open. Her chin was tucked back and off to the side, as if she were trying to avoid having her photograph taken. Enough of her chest showed to lead me to believe she wasn’t wearing a top and might have been completely nude.
He turned the page. The next portrait had been taken under the same conditions. The strained expression captured on the subject’s face projected fear, or it could have been pain. I couldn’t quite tell. But there was one thing I was sure of: the man in the picture was Lyle Hammond, the abducted brain surgeon. Two pages later, a photograph of Geoffrey Barnes appeared, followed by Johnny Ellis.
I couldn’t believe it. Devlin prized his abductions and kept them as pieces of artwork. Opposite each page was a dossier of the person in the photo. It included their name, sex, age, height, weight, noted birthmarks, scars, or tattoos on their body, and their profession. It was a biometric résumé of the person. Oliver continued to flip through the album. Kang and I remained quiet, as victim after victim appeared. The very last picture was of Evaristo Damiani, the angel investor.
Kang and I hadn’t even scratched the surface. In all, there were twenty individuals abducted by Devlin and Min. And even then, we couldn’t be sure if there were more. Had Min also keep a photo album showcasing their work?
Barber waited until Kang finished snapping photos of each victim and their information before bagging the album as evidence. I asked if there was more to show us. Luckily, there wasn’t. I didn’t think my brain could take another twisted layer to our investigation.
Helping the CIA to find out what Xiaolian knew had led us to a serial kidnapper operating under the guise of a fertility clinic. And the kicker? I was no closer to figuring out any more about Xiaolian.
Chapter Seventy-Eight
It had been two days since we’d hit the fertility clinic, and CSI was still on site processing the clinic, tunnel, and silo. Sadly, it wasn’t yielding the results we had hoped for. Devlin had been extremely careful and orchestrated a thorough clean up.
We faced the same problem with Min that we had with Devlin. Nothing in his apartment identified him. It made me realize the amount of preparation and planning that had gone into their operation. They had laid the foundation way before the creation of Cerberus Fertility.
We had agents from forensic accounting combing every file in the clinic, looking for any type of money trail, and so far, they were coming up empty. Devlin actually ran the clinic as a business and not a shell company to hide behind. Everything about the place appeared legit. There was nothing fishy about the financial health of the company; they even turned a profit. All required operating licenses and regulations were up to date. The employees were legal and, as far as we could tell, actually did the jobs they were hired for. Cerberus even had a steady stream of customers. They really did help couples get pregnant. Had Devlin created Cerberus to hide the abductions, or had it simply been a convenient place to run his sick operation?
That part of the investigation wasn’t amounting to much, but we had our smoking gun: the photo album we’d found at Devlin’s penthouse.
Now we needed to find Devlin and Min, who had shot to number-one status on the FBI’s most-wanted list. If they hadn’t already exited the country, it would now be extremely hard to do. Their pictures would hang in federal buildings, courthouses, and post offices. They could run, but the Bureau would never stop looking.
SFPD found Nadia Ulrich inside Golden Gate Park a few hours after we had met with Sokolov at the hotel. She was delirious and wearing nothing but a hospital gown. Kang questioned her, but we already knew there wouldn’t be anything new to gain. We had already cracked open the case.
In the meantime, the investigation into the kidnappings would remain open but inactive. Reilly wanted us to focus our attention elsewhere, on other cases. I really think he wanted to put the whole business of Xiaolian behind us.
We were at the office, sitting at our desks. Kang was busy typing up his report, and I was staring at a piece of paper. In the very center, I had written Xiaolian’s name.
She was still a mystery to me. Investigating her had allowed us to break up a human-trafficking and prostitution ring, as well as a scheme to abduct people. I could see her leading us to one, but two? How often does that happen? What are the odds?
I tapped the pencil next to her name. What is your role? Victim? Spy? Mastermind? Coincidence?
Above her name, at the twelve o’clock position, I wrote down Oyster Crew, the gang that originally smuggled Xiaolian into the country.
Between the twelve and three o’clock positions, I wrote down Chan brothers.
At the three o’clock position, I wrote down Dr. Jian Lee.
Between the three and six o’clock positions, I wrote down Three-Parenting.
At the six o’clock position, I wrote down Xiaolian’s home/Sports school.
Between the six and nine o’clock positions, I wrote The Shis.
At the nine o’clock position, I wrote down Cerberus Fertility.
I studied the clock diagram, looking at the connections. I knew Oyster was connected to Xiaolian, as they had smuggled her into the country. I drew a double-headed arrow connecting the two.
I knew the Chan brothers were connected to Xiaolian because they had tried to kill her. I drew a double-headed arrow connecting the two. Oyster was connected to the Chan brothers because Darren and his crew had also been on the hit list. I drew another arrow.
Xiaolian and I shared DNA so she was connected to three-parenting technology .
Dr. Lee had taken Xiaolian from my home to protect her. That connected them. According to Xiaolian, he was aware of my DNA connection with her. That connected him to three-parenting. The place where Xiaolian said she was from was also the place Dr. Lee was from. The three were all connected.
The Shis had been after Xiaolian. They were connected to her. I assumed they might know where she was from or were working for the people responsible for her, so I connected the Shis to the school.
I stared at the diagram. Everything appeared to be connected in some way. The only loose end was Cerberus Fertility. Was there a connection, or was it just a coincidence that we had stumbled across what was happening there? Could Cerberus be connected to Xiaolian? Are they connected to any of the others on the diagram? Those were questions in need of an answer. I continued to doodle.
As I stared at the empty space between the nine and twelve o’clock p
ositions, I wondered if there was something else we hadn’t discovered. Was there another piece to the puzzle? Should there be?
“What are you working on?” Kang asked. He leaned forward and peered at the piece of paper.
“Connections,” I said.
Chapter Seventy-Nine
Time is the great equalizer. It can bring people and events together, and it can move them apart. In my case, it created distance.
With each passing day, I wondered a little less about Xiaolian and how she was faring at the facility, whether Archer was being nice to her or not. Had she been deported yet? If not, would she ever be? I know it sounds heartless, but I’m being honest. With family life filling my time at home and other investigations occupying my time at the office, there was little room left in my life for Xiaolian.
I never heard from Archer regarding Connie and her children. In fact, the Shis had disappeared from our lives as quickly as they had entered. Ryan and Lucy didn’t dwell on it. The BBQs with the Shis had become a distant memory.
I also never spoke to Po Po again about the incident upstairs. She never raised it either. We were meant to move on. Easier said than done for someone like me. I liked resolution, but I wasn’t getting answers about Xiaolian, and I needed to accept it.
It was Saturday, almost two weeks after our raid on Cerberus Fertility. Ryan was at the dojo. Lucy was at a friend’s house. Po Po was at a luncheon with her friends. And I was home by myself with a bunch of free time and nothing to do.
There was nothing I wanted to watch on television, and there wasn't much to tidy around the house. I settled for cleaning my service weapon. When I finished, I thought about doing yardwork, but Kang was coming over the next day, and he, for some reason, loved taking care of the lawn. Maybe it was because his place didn’t have one or that he was a guy.
I sat outside on the front porch. As far as I could see, the sky was blue. The bright sun magnified the greenness of my front yard and the surrounding hedges and trees. With each inhale, the smell of summer filled my nostrils.
I couldn’t be sure how long I stared aimlessly at the house across the street from me, but suddenly I noticed a short man standing on the sidewalk in front of my home.
He was wearing slacks, a gray sport coat, and black fedora. His right hand was holding a cane, and he had a leather shoulder bag strapped across his chest. I thought he might be lost, but he started walking along the sidewalk again. Short steps, almost like a shuffle.
Probably had to take a breather.
I leaned back in my chair and kicked my legs out, forgetting him already, but he turned into my driveway and slowly made his way toward me.
I wonder if this is one of Po Po’s friends.
He stopped at the foot of my porch. “Abby Kane?” He had a soft, calm voice.
I sat up. “Yes. How can I help you?”
“May I?” He motioned with his cane that he wanted to come up onto the porch.
I nodded, and he climbed the stairs. He was much older than I had originally thought, and he was Chinese. He wore glasses with black frames and had bushy eyebrows. Sunspots marked both of his droopy cheeks. He removed his hat, revealing thinning black hair with tufts of white behind each temple.
“I hope I’m not bothering you,” he said.
“You’re not. Do I know you?”
He glanced back toward the street for a moment, and then checked the time on a pocket watch he carried inside his jacket. “Do you mind if we talk inside?”
My curiosity got the better of me. “Sure. Would you like a cup of tea?” I asked as I stood.
We sat in the sitting room, a low table between us and tea in hand. I took a sip of mine. He took a sip of his.
“I’ve been wanting to meet you for a very long time.” He placed his mug down on the table. “My name is Dr. Fan Wei, but please, call me Fan. I’m sure you already have many questions about who I am and why I know you. The answers will come in due time.”
Fan leaned back into his chair and crossed a leg over the other. He scratched at his chin for a moment or two. “I have thought a lot about this moment, but I’ve never thought how I would start the conversation.” He chuckled.
“Why don’t you start with what brought you here today?”
He nodded. “Xiaolian brought me here. I’m the one who sent her to you.”
It felt as if his words had slammed into my chest. Just when I thought I had put her behind me and had hushed the nagging voice inside me, the answer to every question I might have ever had about her was sitting across from me.
“Why?” I could barely uttered the word.
“I needed your help. I thought I had the best chance if you knew Xiaolian existed.”
“I don’t understand what you’re saying. I mean, I know she shares DNA with me, and that’s why we look the same. It’s a technique called three-parenting.”
“It’s a remarkable technology. I first started experimenting with it in the fifties. Back then, it was only a fantasy I had. But as I continued to tinker, I made progress. I began to see the potential of what my work could lead to.”
“You mean cloning people?”
“It’s much more than that. A clone is an oddity… a spectacle to gaze at. A circus sideshow. What I wanted to do was take the good within one person and pass it along to another.”
I crinkled my brow. “So someone thought giving Xiaolian my looks was a good thing? Did you steal my DNA?”
He shook his head. “I stopped my work long before that, but my partner… he continued with it, against my wishes. I had destroyed my files and forbade him from using any of my findings. But he must have made copies of everything.”
“So someone who worked with you stole your research?”
“I’m afraid so. For that, I apologize. After discovering that he was continuing with my work and my ideas, I kept tabs on him, through people loyal to me who were working with him.”
“I see. Let’s backtrack just a bit to what you said earlier, about taking the good from one person and giving it to another. What did you mean by that?”
“I will try to explain this in a way that is very easy to understand. Michael Jordan is an excellent basketball player. If I were to create a clone of him, and that clone could play basketball just as well as the original Michael, and I put him on my team, do you think people would accept him or reject him?”
“They would reject him.”
“You’re right, because while everything about him is the same, he’s not the original. I wouldn’t have an all-star team, nor would I win the NBA championship. I would instead be called a fraud, and laughed out of every basketball arena. But if I could replicate certain traits in Michael Jordan, like his athletic ability, his drive and determination, and put that into another person, I might be able to create a person who plays exactly like Michael but isn’t Michael.”
“You would have a Michael Jordan without anyone knowing you have one,” I said.
Fan nodded.
“So this is the work you were developing but stopped?”
“It is, and the reason I stopped is because I started to see what people really wanted to use my work for.”
“They wanted to create an all-star team of all the best players in the NBA and become filthy rich?” I arched an eyebrow.
“Not quite, but you’re close. Taking the most talented people you can find and recruiting them to play on your team or work for your company or government is something we do on a daily basis. But my work had the potential to eliminate the wooing. There would be no need to coax or chase; we could simply create.”
“I understand what you’re saying, but I’m still unsure of where I came into play. I’m no Michael Jordan.”
“No, but you are one of the best in your field of work. There are certain traits you have that predispose you to being an excellent detective. Your ability to solve problems is well above average. You’re a quick learner, and you have gut feelings that I’m guessing are almost never wr
ong. You would be an asset to any law-enforcement organization.”
“Okay, I’ll play along. Say I’m all that. I see your point—more of me means solving more crimes, possibly faster, maybe even preventing them.”
“Abby, imagine if someone knew what you were capable of, what you would come to accomplish, and from the age of two, trained you to improve upon those very skills. Do you know how advanced a crime fighter you would be at the age you are now?”
I took that in and then said, “This is the father who trains his son to grow up to be an amazing golfer by putting a club in his hands before he can even speak. Taking him to the course before he can ride a bike, and entering him in competitions instead of taking him camping.”
“That’s right, except in your example, there is no guarantee the child has a disposition to be a great golfer. We know from what you’ve become that you did.”
“So I was a good bet.”
“A guarantee.”
Geoffrey Barnes, Johnny Ellis, Evaristo Damiani, Lyle Hammond, and Nadia Ulrich were all proven talents in what they did, some of the best. I could see why someone would want a version of them who wasn’t exactly them.
“Excuse me. I’ll be right back.” I hurried up the stairs to my office and retrieved the piece of paper where I had listed Xiaolian’s many connections.
The Curator: SG Trilogy Book 2 (Abby Kane FBI Thriller 8) Page 28