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

  “Detective McDonald said he recognized the killer…he used the term ‘killer’…on the video monitor and they left in a hurry,” said Mildred Thompson, the Haida Towers building manager.

  “I’ll call Homicide and see what’s happened,” said Gonzalez.

  After he got off the phone, he said, “Things are moving fast, McDonald and Elstrom have arrested a guy named Dom Eichmann and are bringing him into Homicide.”

  “We’d better go down there and interview him. It probably won’t take us long to determine if he’s the serial killer or a copycat,” said Swanson.

  At the Homicide office, Swanson and her team met with Captain Al Watson who sent them to the Interview Room No. 4. It was decided that Swanson and Gonzalez would conduct the interrogation. Even though they had never worked together as an interrogation team before, they had to learn to work together in this important area of investigation work.

  As they approached the room, they were confronted by a detective that was identified by Rick as Detective Tommy McDonald.

  “This is my case; I solved it and made the arrest. No one else is talking to this guy.”

  Rick Gonzalez was getting angry and almost ready to attack McDonald, but Diane Swanson said, “Good work detective. It may well be your case, and congratulations on the quick arrest. Since the US Attorney has taken over jurisdiction and created a Joint Task Force, we will have to interview him, just so we can close our case and turn it over to you. We’ll get the US Attorney to turn it over to the District Attorney and it will be your case. Do you have a problem with that detective?”

  “No…no. I understand. That sounds fine,” said Detective McDonald who seemed quite relieved and began to relax. He was expecting a confrontation but everything was working out perfectly. Normally, McDonald would be happy to dump a case off to someone else, but this big arrest of a serial killer could get him newspaper headlines…it could even mean a promotion.

  “The guy’s been Mirandized but he’s not saying anything except that he wants a lawyer,” said McDonald.

  Swanson smiled and nodded to McDonald as she and Gonzalez entered the interview room. “What a moron,” said Rick under his breath.

  Swanson introduced herself and Rick to the suspect, Dom Eichmann, and reminded him that he had been read his rights and need not say anything.

  “I want a lawyer,” said Eichmann immediately. He did not add, however, that he would not answer questions.

  “The Seattle detectives have already called one, and one should be here shortly,” said Swanson.

  “You don’t have to answer any questions, I just want to tell you where you stand so you will understand your options,” said Swanson. “The Seattle Police believe you are responsible for five homicides. Since you apparently haven’t denied this, I presume they are correct in their assumption.”

  “Since this case is under the jurisdiction of the US Attorney, this is a federal crime, which means in all likelihood you will be given the death penalty and will die by legal injection.”

  Eichmann was visibly shaken by this statement and began to tremble.

  “If, on the other hand, this is the only offence you committed, and are not responsible for the other homicides, it is not a federal crime and it is unlikely you will be executed. In fact, if you were under the influence of alcohol or drugs, your lawyer may be able to get a reduced charge because you were unable to form mens rea…criminal intent.”

  It didn’t take Eichmann long to decide which option he wanted to pursue.

  “This is the only one…I promise. I read about the other homicides in the news; I wasn’t even in Seattle when one of them happened. I took some meth and gin to build up my nerve; I didn’t know what I was doing.”

  “What made you decide to do this?” asked Swanson. “You know, tie her wrists to the bed with a rope and pour booze into her mouth?”

  “My wife told me about it. She was at the hair salon last week and heard some lady telling everyone about the case. They said this lady is a cop’s wife…he tells her everything.”

  “How did you decide on this particular woman,” asked Rick.

  “Just saw her walking down the street…well dressed, you know….thought she was better than everyone else, so I followed her home; even got in the front door with her when she used her key. I didn’t think I’d get caught. I thought you guys would blame it on the serial killer.”

  “OK, write all this down on paper, and be sure to include the name of the hair salon and anything else you can think of. Include remorse…you are sorry aren’t you?” said Swanson.

  “Yes…yes…very sorry.”

  “Good. The judge will like that.”

  “There’s no way this is the serial killer,” said Swanson to Captain Watson. “At least not the one we’re looking for. Here’s his statement…please make a copy for us along with a typed copy. He said he copied the MO after hearing all about it from his wife. She heard it at her hair salon from a client who is married to a detective. It seems like you have a leak in your Division. That’s a blabbermouth married to a blabbermouth. We’ll leave it to you to follow up and please send us a copy of your report.”

  “You bet we’ll follow up. I have to say I’m a little embarrassed about this…..and I have to admit I have a few suspects,” said Captain Watson.

  “Thanks Captain. I guess this is now Detective McDonald’s case. He’ll be thrilled to death.”

  “Yah, this is a first. McDonald’s always trying to dump cases; don’t ever remember him trying to keep one.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “Sean, if you’ve got a minute, I want to come up and see you,” said SA Gary Webster.

  “Come on up Gary.”

  Within three minutes, Gary was sitting in Sean’s office with the door closed.

  “Do you know Gordon Paquette, Sean?” asked Gary.

  “Not well. Met him a few times….he’s the SSA in charge of Counterintelligence. In fact, Li Mei and I ran into him at McDonalds on a Sunday morning…I think it was last week.”

  “Well, he came into my office and tried to engage in chit chat, as if he had just been walking by. Then he asked me how the investigation on the Portland Killer was going, you know, any suspects, etcetera.”

  “What did you tell him?” asked Sean.

  “I told him I wasn’t involved in the investigation but to my knowledge, the investigation was going nowhere real slow….no suspects.”

  “Interesting. Why would he stop to see you?”

  “We were stationed together on CID in Atlanta years back. He started off the old ‘great to see you again’ routine. We were never close; I always thought he was an asshole.”

  “Thanks Gary. If he follows up with more questions, let me know. A casual conversation like this doesn’t make him a suspect, but I’ve made a mental note for future reference,” said Sean.

  “It’s funny Sean. He’s been stationed here in Seattle for six months and this is the first time he’s ever been on my floor, at least to my knowledge.

  “Sean, is this a secure line?” asked Li Mei as Sean recognized her voice on the phone.

  “Yes. Are you back in town now?” said Sean.

  “Is the FBI looking for me?”

  “No, at least not yet. We’ve got to talk.”

  “Yes, that’s why I called you. You know that pizza restaurant we used to eat at near the waterfront…can you meet me at two pm?”

  “I can. See you then.”

  Sean and Li Mei sat at a table at the back of their favourite Italian restaurant. It was small and didn’t seem to do much business, despite the excellent quality of the food. Even though both Sean and Li Mei called it their pizza restaurant, they seldom ate pizza here; there were too many other excellent dishes, unavailable in most other Italian restaurants, at least not dishes that tasted so good. They both attributed the lack of customers to the poor location.

  “I am sure you saw the television news about the shooting in Minneapolis, Sean. Even I tho
ught the shooter looked like me, but it wasn’t me. I had been in Minneapolis the day before but I wasn’t there when the politician was shot.”

  “We saw you get on to the train for Portland in those exact same clothes, but in different clothes when you flew from Portland to Denver.”

  “So I am being investigated,” said Li Mei, more as a statement than a question.

  “The FBI in Minneapolis are running the investigation. Only Gary and I have seen you on CCTV here.”

  “Do you think I did it Sean?” asked Li Mei.

  “Gary and I don’t think you did it for two reasons…you’re too smart to shoot someone in the same clothes you would be seen on camera elsewhere. Also, you are right-handed but the shooter used her left hand.”

  “You know I can shoot with both hands though,” replied Li Mei. “We have been to the range together and I would be on their video shooting with my left hand.”

  “Being able to shoot with your left hand doesn’t mean you would use that hand if you are right-handed.”

  “Yes, but both these points you raise are not a defense that would be of much benefit in court; am I right?”

  “Yes, you’re right, but Gary and I are both on your side. As far as we are concerned, you are not the shooter. Who do you think did this, Li Mei? It seems like you are being framed, and whoever is doing it, is doing a good job. They’re definitely not amateurs.”

  “I am sure it is the Mei Hua Triad. Not only as revenge for my abducting Wu Xing and taking him back to China to stand trial, but also because they may know I have been sent to the US to gather intelligence on their operation, in other words, to engineer their destruction. Getting rid of me would be very beneficial to them and their future operations.”

  “What can we do about it Li Mei? How can I help?”

  “There is nothing you or Gary can do Sean. Leave the Mei Hua to me; I have some ideas.”

  “Care to share those ideas?” asked Sean.

  “Maybe later, but I have something else to share with you.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I saw on the news of a fourth and fifth rape and murder by a serial killer here in Seattle,” said Li Mei.

  “Yes. That’s one of our biggest cases in CID right now. Do you know something about this?” asked Sean.

  “Do you remember an FBI agent whom we shared breakfast with at McDonalds that Sunday morning; he was with his family.”

  “Yes; of course I remember…Gord Paquette,” said Sean looking very interested.

  “Look at these photos. Do you know who that is and where these were taken?”

  “Is that Paquette? I can’t say for sure, but it could be him. The building looks familiar; I have seen it before,” said Sean.

  “It is Paquette. You can be one-hundred percent sure. The building is the back of the Newbury Apartments. He is opening the door with a lock pick on the night of the fourth rape and murder. Look at this close-up photo, and you can see the pick and tension bar in his hands.”

  “Holy shit! How do you know it is him? How did you get these photos? Did you take these photos yourself?”

  “You have a lot of questions? What are you…a cop?” laughed Li Mei.

  “There are two problems,” continued Li Mei becoming more serious. “The person who took these photos cannot and will not testify in court. Besides, who would believe a Chinese spy accusing a heroic FBI agent?”

  “What is the other problem, Li Mei?”

  “Paquette was not at the Haida Towers during the time of fifth murder, in fact, he hasn’t been there at all, at least not for the past two weeks.”

  “OK, I get it. Your people obviously have Paquette under continuous surveillance. Is this because he is in charge of Counterintelligence?”

  “No, it would not be time or money well spent to follow all the FBI Counterintelligence agents. I cannot tell you now…maybe in the future.”

  “The Haida Towers killing was a copycat killer…not the serial killer,” said Sean. “Was Paquette under surveillance during the time any of the other murders took place?”

  “No, we’ve only been on him for about two weeks, maybe a little less,” replied Li Mei.

  “If he was anything but a senior FBI agent, I’d place him under surveillance based on this, but this is a dicey situation. Getting the authorization would not only be difficult without more evidence, but worse still, there could be a leak. The authorization involves too many people, and then you have the watchers or agents on the surveillance teams. Some would undoubtedly object to following an agent with an exemplary record.”

  “Don’t worry about that. We will keep him under surveillance. Although we can’t testify, I can notify you immediately should she show up at the back door of any more apartment buildings.”

  “Good. By the way, does he ever go to Starbucks restaurant?

  “Yes; quite often; particularly that one north of the highway in the west side of town. That one is fairly close to my apartment.”

  “Li Mei, you have been a big help. You know you can count on Gary and me for anything. We may be drawn into that investigation on the Minneapolis shooting, and things could happen whereby it is beyond my control, but we’ll always be in your corner.”

  “What means, ‘in my corner’ Sean?”

  “It’s an old boxing term; it means you can always count on us for help.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Li Mei sat in Starbucks reading an ebook on her kindle while nursing a black coffee. It was a few minutes after ten in the evening and quite dark outside due to the cloud cover. She was an avid reader and regretted that her employment didn’t allow her much leisure time for reading. Ebook readers were a great invention, in her opinion, because now she didn’t have to ship boxes of books to her various postings; now she could carry a thousand books in her shoulder bag or cargo pants pocket.

  She felt the vibration of her secure cellphone, designed specifically for State Security agents by the Fourth Bureau.

  “Yes,” she said into the phone.

  “Did you know the target is in the restaurant with you?” said State Security agent Zhan Fong, a member of the team assigned to keep Supervisory Special Agent Paquette under surveillance.

  “Yes. I spotted him when I came in. He is pretending not to have seen me, and I am doing the same thing with him.”

  After about twenty-five minutes, Li Mei finished her coffee and put her kindle into her hand bag which she carried on a shoulder strap so she would always be hands free. She was careful not to look in Paquette’s direction and left the restaurant to walk home.

  Li Mei was always in the habit of walking a different route home wherever she was coming from so as not to establish a routine and improve the chance of detecting surveillance. Instead of proceeding straight down the street, she turned left and walked down an alley which had no lighting except for a dim bulb over a door halfway down the alley on the right side.

  Her cellphone vibrated again.

  “Yes,” she said softly.

  “Target is following you.”

  “Yes; I realize that. Stay back and don’t worry about it.”

  Within fifteen minutes, Li Mei arrived at her apartment. She had seen someone following her using her peripheral vision but never turned to look. She wouldn’t have known the identity of who was following her if Zhan Fong hadn’t told her but she suspected it was Paquette.

  Within two or three minutes of her arrival home, there was a soft knock on the apartment door. Li Mei had her S&W semi-automatic handgun in her hand held down her side behind her leg. She opened the door with the chain on as she asked who it was.

  “Li Mei. It is Special Agent Paquette, FBI. I’m sure you remember me when we had breakfast with Sean a week or two ago. I saw someone follow you home down that back alley. There have been some rape-murders in this area; I wanted to ensure you are safe. Let me in and I will inspect your door and window locks. This neighbourhood is not safe.”

  Li Mei removed the cha
in and allowed Paquette to enter her apartment. As she moved back, she saw his hand go inside his jacket as if reaching for a gun in a shoulder holster. She immediately pivoted towards him, trapping the arm reaching inside his jacket and smashed him in the face with her gun.

  Paquette cried out and bent over holding his face with both hands. Blood began to ooze from a cut above his right eye and his cheek below the eye. When he looked up, he saw Li Mei pointing a gun at this head.

  Paquette had been carrying a briefcase when he entered the apartment, which he had set on the floor beside him before reaching for his gun.