The Chinese Woman: Mystery Assassin: A Spy Mystery Thriller: Li Mei Spy Action Series (The Chinese Woman: Li Mei Spy Action Series Book 3)

by Brian N. Cox

  “No, I’m on Criminal Investigations. I went to the scene when I heard about it, but we weren’t authorized to take over the investigation. I would have been too late anyway. They have a few good officers at Eggletown but they’re in the minority. Most are relatives of the local politicians.”

  “So can you give me a breakdown of what happened?”

  “Well a woman was staying in their best hotel; she was there on business from Portland. Apparently quite an attractive woman…late twenties. The maid found her the next day dead with her wrists tied to the headboard. She was on her back and nude. There apparently had been no vaginal penetration and she had been strangled.”

  “Was the rope nylon and looped around the headboard?”

  “We don’t know for sure. The Eggletown Police removed the rope and now they can’t find it. Our crime scene guys found nothing as the locals had contaminated the crime scene. Apparently half the Eggletown Police were in there tramping around. Detective Dumbshits apparently found a small piece of paper or something on the floor but threw it away assuming it was garbage.”

  “Oh my god, are these guys from the seventeenth century?” exclaimed Rita.

  “What can I say? It sounds like it could be the same M.O. but there will never be a conviction on this in a million years.”

  “You say there was no vaginal penetration. Was there a sexual assault?”

  “There might have been. The locals bundled the girl off to the morgue before our crime scene people got there. The M.E. told them there was no vaginal penetration but didn’t say anything else in his report.”

  “Could you check with him to see if there was anything in the victim’s mouth?”

  “Nothing in the report, but I’ll check back with him,” replied Corporal Young.

  “Thanks Ted, I’ll look forward to hearing from you.”

  After hanging up the phone, Rita conveyed what she had been told to Rick Gonzalez. Both were of the opinion that if there were traces of a mixture of alcohol, mouthwash and bleach in the victim’s mouth, it was probably the same killer.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “The apartment’s in the grey building. It’s on the second floor, corner apartment,” Wen Tai said without actually looking at the building.

  “This is going to be easy. We can rent a room in that hotel across the street and look right into her apartment,” replied Liu Wei.

  “You’ve got a lot to learn Little Brother. We do that and they’ll find us tomorrow with bullets in our head. You don’t know who you’re dealing with here.”

  “How dangerous can she be; she’s only a girl. Do you think she regularly checks the windows of the hotel right across the street?”

  “That’s exactly what I think. I’ll do the thinking little brother. Just do what you’re told or we’ll get someone else to take your place.”

  “I’m sorry Wen Tai. You’re the boss.”

  Liu Wei was only twenty-four years of age, but he already had successfully accomplished nine Mei Hua Triad assignments to have people disappear. Normally, this involved taking the unfortunate victim a few miles offshore in a fishing boat, tying a couple of concrete blocks to their ankles and offering them to the ocean as shark food. On two occasions, however, he was assigned to make examples of the Mei Hua Triad’s enemies. This involved death by “a thousand cuts”, traditionally with swords but now most often with knives or hatchets, and the body, or what was left of it, would be found as a warning to others who would understand exactly what the warning was and who made it. Liu particularly enjoyed this traditional way of killing as he was an extreme psychopath; not an iota of remorse or regret ever entered his mind. The Mei Hua rarely used this method of disposing of enemies as their policy was to maintain a low profile. When a person merely disappeared, it was never attributed to the Mei Hua Triad. In fact most law enforcement agencies in America did not know of their existence.

  “Look, there’s a big hotel a block away. That will be perfect. It looks like it’s got good sight lines to her apartment building. Now let’s get off the street; I’m getting nervous. We’ll rent a room and get set up right away.”

  “I still don’t see why we don’t just kill her. I have killed many people, now I am supposed to sit in a room looking through a telescope?” said Liu.

  “Be careful spouting off your dumb ideas Little Brother. You remember Wu Xing. When young members started spouting off their ideas and suggestions, they were dealt with immediately. “

  “What happened to them?”

  “Nobody knows but they were never seen again. Most of us assumed they became shark food.”

  “I understand. You don’t have to tell me again, but I am not afraid of Li Mei. If she comes after me, she will be in for an unpleasant surprise,” said Liu.

  Wen Tai just smiled to himself. Psychopaths like Liu Wei were useful to the Mei Hua Triad but they had to be kept in check. If they bragged about their membership in the Mei Hua, or talked about their activities, they themselves would disappear.

  Wen Tai was a trusted member of the Mei Hua Triad and often received important assignments that required both intelligence and stealth. He had just celebrated his fortieth birthday a month ago and his reliable service with the Triad had resulted in a very comfortable life for him and his family. Unlike Liu Wei, who had been a migrant worker, Wen Tai had attended university in Shanghai and earned a degree in engineering. He reflected that his income was probably three or four times higher than most of his university classmates, even some of the very successful ones. Of course there were some risks to his employment. The Organized Crime Bureau of the Shanghai Police were not people to be trifled with, and now that the Ministry of State Security had taken an interest in them, that was even more dangerous. Since being sent to Seattle, however, he believed the risks of arrest, imprisonment or death were much less than when living and working in China.

  It was a beautiful afternoon in San Francisco after a brief morning shower. There was a chop in the Bay and the sailboats were heeling to the brisk wind with their gunwales awash. Some racing dinghies were planing downwind and Special Agent Gordon Paquette could imagine the fun the sailors were having. Gordon had owned a sailboat many years ago but switched to a powerboat for the comfort and the convenience of seducing women. As they say, a sailboat in a strong wind is no place for romance.

  Paquette walked up the concrete steps and opened the polished brass trimmed door, entering a rather majestic building housing the law offices of Marino, Thorgrud and Allen.

  “Good afternoon. My name is Paquette and Mr. Marino is expecting me.”

  “Yes Sir. He told me you would be visiting him. I’ll buzz his phone to let him know you are here. He told me to tell you to go right down the hall to his office, last door on the right,” said the pretty, young receptionist with numerous silver rings lining the edge of her earlobes.

  Special Agent Paquette walked down the hall and knocked on the door of his old friend, Vince Marino. When Paquette had been a young law school graduate working here, Vince Marino had been a mid-level partner; now he was the senior partner and major shareholder. Despite the fact the Marino was eight years older than Gordon, they had become good friends. Marino had been Paquette’s mentor and Gordon had been a fast learner, the brightest young Associate in the firm which now employed twenty-seven lawyers and a support staff of over fifty.

  “Gordy…great to see you as the two old friends hugged. What’s it been…about two years since we’ve seen each other?”

  “About that; but we can skip the chit chat…you were never one for small talk unless you were conning a client, a judge or a jury,” laughed Gordon.

  “Still conning them Gordy, and it’s made me a rich man. Now what brings you here?”

  “I’ve got myself into a bit of a jam; a bit unlucky at sports betting.”

  “Too bad you’re not posted here in San Fran, Gordy; I could feed you a good chunk of change for some inside info on FBI cases. We still have our office in Seattle, as
I’m sure you know, but there’s no one there you can deal with on what we will call ‘sensitive’ matters.”

  “If I was still assigned to Criminal Investigations, I’m sure I could help you but I don’t have much to offer a defense lawyer while I’m working Counterintelligence.”

  “I bet I know some people who would give you a good buck for info you would have access to…the Chinese. I’m sure they’d love to know what the FBI Counterintelligence is doing to monitor their spies.”

  “I’m a step ahead of you, Vince. I’m going to their Consulate tomorrow.”

  “Be careful, Gordy. Wouldn’t your local Bureau people have the place under surveillance?

  “Not a problem. My visit has already been cleared by Washington. Of course they don’t know my complete plan,” said Paquette as he started to laugh. Within a few seconds, Vince Marino was also laughing as he and Paquette had always been on the same wave length, often knowing what the other was thinking before being told.

  “So, anything I can do to help?”

  “Not at the moment, Vince. I just want to keep you up to date so should anything go wrong, I can call on you.”

  You can count on me, Gordy, and if any cases come up where I think you can help, I’ll be sure to call on you. I have a large contingency fund for, let’s call it, confidential information. If you come up with anything in which I may be interested in Seattle, let me know. Don’t make any contact with my staff in Seattle, just call direct on my private line.”

  Vince Marino was well known within the legal fraternity in San Francisco and generally despised by the police and District Attorney’s office. He was known to them as the “mob lawyer” and the wise guys he defended almost always got off scot free, which had made Marino a very wealthy man.

  The California Mafia family had been attracted to Marino, firstly because of his unusually successful track record in court with criminal cases, and secondly by his Italian name and family reputation, even though he was a third generation Italian and didn’t speak a word of the language. His grandfather had been an Honoured Society member from Calabria and a good friend of the Sicilians, but Vince never did know what his father did for a living. He and his two sisters were brought up in luxury but where the money came from, Vince could only suspect. While his grandfather had served a couple of terms in jail, his father had never even been arrested.

  Vince had a philosophy about winning court cases…everyone had skeletons in their closet, and that included judges, prosecutors, juries and witnesses. He retained a staff of very efficient investigators, mostly ex-cops who left their jobs in law enforcement under a dark cloud. They had the skills, and the best electronic surveillance equipment money could buy, and integrity was never a consideration for what they were assigned to do. If people couldn’t be intimidated by having embarrassing activities exposed to the public, they usually reacted positively to money, and when that didn’t work, they could be intimidated by Marino’s mob friends. In several of Marino’s mob cases, witnesses had simply disappeared.

  Supervisory Special Agent Gordon Paquette and lawyer Vince Marino had a special bond going back to the days when they worked and partied together in the law firm that now had Marino’s name on the masthead. In fact, Paquette had been a boarder in Marino’s home when they worked together. Years later, they remained close confidents, communicating about things neither would talk to anyone else about, but they never talked about the incident that had resulted in this close bond. That was a secret neither wanted to discuss.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “Gonzalez, Tessier, come into my office and close the door,” said Captain Alvin Watson, officer commanding the Seattle Police Homicide Unit.

  Captain Watson, a large man with thinning red hair, had thirty-two years on the job, all but seven in the Detective Division. He was well respected both as an investigator and a manager. He was very popular with the detectives under his command and always gave them a lot of rope to do their jobs. As he always said, ‘In our business, all we care about are results; that means arresting the right person, and getting them convicted’. The police didn’t have the direct responsibility to have an accused person convicted, but it was their responsibility to present the evidence to the District Attorney that would result in a successful prosecution.

  Captain Watson nodded to the chairs opposite his desk and continued reading a report in his hands while the two detectives sat down.

  “I’ve read your report, and I’ve got good news for you. We can dump this “blowjob killer” case off on the Feds. There’s no doubt this killer crossed State lines to continue committing his crimes. The Feds won’t be able to refuse it considering the killing in Oregon and the evidence left at the scenes of our three crimes indicating the Oregon connection.”

  “Normally I’d be happy as hell to dump a case on someone else, Cap,” said Gonzalez, “but Tess and I talked it over and would like to keep on it. It’s a real challenge and we sort of feel we’d be giving up,” he continued, as Rita Tessier nodded her head in agreement.

  “Well, I don’t often hear any of my detectives not jumping at the chance to dump a case on to someone else; it’s not as if the people around here have nothing to do.”

  “This guy is so goddam smart, or thinks he is, that we sort of take it personal,” said Rita. “With this Eggletown lead, we feel we are starting to make progress. Who knows, there may be other killings by the same perp.”

  “I must say, guys, I’m impressed. However, the law says if an offender commits felonies in more than one State crossing State lines to do so, it becomes FBI jurisdiction.”

  “I understand that, Cap,” said Gonzalez. “Do you think the FBI would let us assist?”

  “Some FBI Field Offices don’t want locals involved in their cases, but I know the Agent in charge of Criminal Investigations here. His name is Sean McNamara and he’s an A-1 guy, in fact he’s the new ASAC. We’re damned lucky he’s posted here in Seattle. When I turn over the case to him, I’ll run that idea by him.”

  “McNamara…I’ve heard of him. Wasn’t he a Mountie in Canada before joining the FBI?”

  “That’s the guy; some call him the “Horseman”. Hopefully I can get back to you later today.”

  “This room is perfect. With the tripod scope I can see right in the window. She probably keeps her curtains closed but we got perfect sight lines on the front door and the parking garage exit. She drives a silver Ford Focus but seldom uses it,” said Wen Tai.

  “I’ve got the phone tap hooked up to the recorder,” said Liu Wei. “I don’t imagine she’ll say much over the phone.”

  “No, I don’t think so but all we need is an indication of when she will leave her apartment.”

  “Are the guys in place to follow her?”

  “They are, but there’s no way they can follow her if she doesn’t want to be followed, but once they get the tracker on her car they’ll be OK. For now, all they’ve got to do is warn us if and when she returns to her apartment.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Gordon Paquette wore a worn denim jacket, black cargo pants, a Forty-Niner ball cap and sunglasses as he approached the Chinese Consulate in San Francisco. He was generally an over-confident man who perceived his intellectual abilities to be matched by very few, but on this occasion he felt a bit nervous, something that he seldom felt. He assumed the Consulate was under surveillance because he knew Chinese State Security had agents in the Consulate although he didn’t see any sign of the surveillance, not even a suspicion, which didn’t surprise him. The FBI was efficient in many areas of law enforcement and no organization in the country exceeded their expertise in the art of surveillance.

  He walked through the entrance scanner and past two friendly looking security guards, smartly dressed in blue blazers and grey flannel pants, and then approached the reception desk.

  “I would like to talk to a member of your State Security please,” Gordon said quietly and discreetly so no one but the attractive young woman at the r
eception desk could hear.

  “I’m sorry Sir,” she replied in perfect English. “There are no State Security representatives here. The Consulate is only involved in business and trade.”

  “My name is Gordon Paquette and it is important that I talk to someone,” Gordon continued as he discreetly showed the receptionist his FBI badge and identification.

  “If you will just take a seat over there,” she replied “and I’ll call someone to talk to you. We have no State Security people here, but I’m sure someone will be happy to help you.”

  Special Agent Paquette sat in a chair in a waiting area for about ten minutes. He knew he was being scrutinized as the lobby had numerous CCTV cameras. Presently, a pleasant looking, slim middle-age woman with long wavy hair stepped off the elevator and approached Paquette.

  “Good morning Sir; I am so happy to meet you. My name is Rhona. Would you please come with me,” more as a statement than a question.