Blood Passage (37 page)

“
No,” Peter said. “I’d like to talk to him myself.”

“
I bet you would. It might be better, though, if you left Tommy Leung to us. Unless you’ve already eliminated him, too. Have you?”

“
Lieutenant!” Henry Lee said sharply.

Peter held up a hand. “It’s all right, Mr. Lee. No, I haven’t eliminated Tommy Leung. May I ask you a question now?”

Hank leaned back. “Sure. Why not? Ask away.”

“
You mentioned my cousin’s little boy, Taylor.” Peter dropped his eyes to his hands for a moment before raising them again. “Can you assure me that the police will stop poking and prodding him like some kind of specimen?”

Hank reached for his tea. “Our interest in him is minimal.” Hank shot Peter a quick look. “You’ve heard the things he’s saying. Hard to believe, aren’t they?”

Peter said nothing.

“
The boy has zero for us in terms of hard evidence,” Hank went on. “Nothing we’d take to court. Detective Stainer explained to the boy’s mother that children generally don’t help us very much on the witness stand in homicide cases. Certainly not unless the child witnessed the murder, and even then their testimony is viewed as a desperate last resort. It’s debatable whether Taylor actually witnessed a murder or not. He’s pointed us in a direction, and that’s pretty much it.”

Peter’s eyes met Hank’s and held them steadily. Then he seemed to relax slightly. “May I ask another question?”

“
Sure.”

“
Do you believe ShonDale Gregg killed Martin four years ago?”

“
Yeah, I’d say so.”

“
What about this Gary Thatcher? Are you saying he was one of Martin’s killers?”

“
It’s possible,” Hank replied.

“
Tommy Leung was there,” Peter said, “and apparently also a fourth man, if Taylor’s telling the truth. Will you continue your investigation until Tommy and this fourth person are brought to justice?”

Hank shrugged. “That’s the general idea.”

“
Do you know who the fourth man is?”

“
Sorry, that’s one question too many.” Hank said.

Peter shot his cuff, looked at his watch, massaged his right forearm with his left palm, folded his hands together and opened them up, thumbs outstretched, to look at his upturned palms.

“
You’re a man of the world, Lieutenant” he said finally. “You deal with hard, concrete facts. Do you believe the things Taylor says? I’m curious. Are you just using him as a tool or do you actually think he’s remembering things only Martin would know?”

“
That’s quite a question.”

Peter stared at him. “You seem to be an honest man who says what’s on his mind. Myself, I’m just not sure. I’m not a very religious person, not really. Up until now I wouldn’t have given a second thought to something like reincarnation. But now I have to say I’m reconsidering what I believe. What about you? What do you think about what he’s saying?”

“
It doesn’t matter what I think,” Hank said. “All I care about is evidence that’s admissible in court.” He stood up, pushed in his chair and held his hand out to Henry Lee. “Counselor, good to see you again.”

“
Likewise, Lieutenant,” Henry Lee replied, getting to his feet to shake hands.

Peter walked him to the door. “Martin was a very nice guy. He was very serious and very smart, but a very friendly guy who just wanted to be liked.”

Hank stopped at the door, waiting for the rest.

“
He looked up to me,” Peter went on. “He had absolutely no interest in business but he was very interested in our culture. Our heritage. I … let him down. His parents never forgave me. I don’t blame them. Their son didn’t deserve to die.”

“
Nobody deserves to die,” Hank said.

Peter shook his head. “I don’t believe that, Lieutenant. That’s not part of my personal philosophy and frankly, I don’t think it’s really part of yours, either. Given what you’ve chosen to do with your life.”

Hank stared at him for a long moment before walking out.

Hank and Karen stood on either side of the scarred and battered door of a basement apartment on King Street in Chinatown a few minutes before nine o’clock that evening, weapons drawn and ready. Their clothes were damp and they had left wet shoeprints on the concrete floor behind them. The rain had put Karen into a foul mood. Hank ran the sleeve of his jacket quickly over his face to remove clinging droplets of water.

The uniformed officers they had brought with them eased into position. Jim Polenti, short and wiry, 38 years old, a 16-year veteran of the department, stood behind Karen. His job was to remain outside and cover the corridor. Polenti had two teenaged boys, ages 16 and 15, and a nine-year-old girl. The girl was already a stand-out in gymnastics and her picture had been in the newspapers twice. Polenti’s wife, Janice, was a dental hygienist and the family lived in a four-bedroom house in Bering Heights. The other officer was Susan Cameron, a 25-year-old African-American who stood behind Hank, ready to follow him into the apartment. Susan had two little girls, ages four and two, and her husband Steve owned a coffee shop uptown. She was tall and athletic, like a professional tennis player. The family lived in a small apartment above the coffee shop. All their money had been poured into the business downstairs.

Their backup, Officers Breyer and Lewis, were outside in the rain, watching the front and rear entrances of the building in case Billy made a break for it.

There were only two apartments in the basement, the one in which Billy Fung lived, according to the text message Karen had received an hour ago, and the other directly across the hall which was said to be vacant.

When everyone was ready, Hank nodded and pounded on the door with his fist. “William Fung! This is the police! We have a warrant for your arrest! Open the door now!”

Silence.

“
This is the police!” Hank pounded again. “Open the door!”

Someone stirred inside the apartment. The chain lock was removed. Hank and Karen both took a step back and leveled their guns at the door.

It opened and a young Asian female peeked out. “Nobody home,” she said in a heavily accented voice.

“
Step back and raise your hands where we can see them,” Hank commanded, putting his hip into the door and forcing it open. He stepped inside and moved to the left. Karen followed and moved to the right.

“
No one here but me,” the girl repeated, frightened, as Cameron and Karen began a room by room search of the apartment. In a few moments they were back, shaking their heads. There was no one else in the apartment.

“
Where’s Billy Fung?” Hank demanded.

“
Not here,” the girl said. She clasped a thin silk robe to herself nervously. She was very small and looked no older than eighteen or nineteen.

“
Yeah, but where?”

The girl’s eyes involuntarily flicked to the apartment door across the hall before dropping again. “Don’t know.”

Karen moved first, striding out into the hallway, her eyes on the door of the other apartment. She motioned to Polenti to take up a position on the right side of the door while she approached it from the left.

“
Watch the girl,” Hank said to Cameron.

At that moment the door of the apartment across the hall exploded into splinters as a shotgun was discharged through it.

Reacting to some kind of sixth sense, Karen managed to dodge back and avoid the blast. Polenti was not quite as agile, and his feet tangled as he recoiled from the explosion. He fell heavily backwards and his head smacked the floor, his gun skittering away from him. He grunted and rolled over, eyes fluttering.

“
Police, fucker!” Karen shouted, adrenaline surging. She delivered a punishing kick to what was left of the door, bursting it open, and dodged back as the shotgun discharged again out into the hallway.

Hank was still crouching inside the door of Billy’s apartment. He glanced over his shoulder and saw that Cameron had dragged the girl out of the line of fire and was handcuffing her to a pipe that ran from the floor to the ceiling in the corner of the living room. He threw himself into the hallway and crashed into the far wall on the right side of the ruined door next to Polenti, who had gotten himself onto his hands and knees. Karen bounced to her feet.

“
Okay?” he called out to her.

“
Son of a bitch!” she answered. She swiveled around the door jamb, weapon fully extended, both elbows locked, and saw a man in a leather jacket and cowboy boots standing in the middle of the floor fumbling with the shotgun, trying to thumb more shells into the breech. “Freeze, asshole!”

Tang Lei lifted the shotgun and Karen shot him twice between the eyes.

Hank threw himself into the room, crouching low, and saw Billy Fung standing toward the back of the empty room, weapon held loosely in his hand, not pointing at anyone. “Drop it, Billy! It’s not worth it!”

Karen entered the room on Hank’s left and crouched, weapon leveled at Billy. “C’mon, asshole!”

Cameron moved into position at the edge of the door, her gun also pointed at Billy.

“
It’s over,” Hank said. “Put the gun down slowly on the floor and kneel down with your hands behind your head. Now!”

Billy hesitated, his eyes flicking to the still form of Tang on the floor in front of him. Then he slowly raised his hands, showing his palms, and bent down to place the gun on the floor. He knelt and put his hands behind his head.

Karen rushed forward, swept Billy’s gun away with her foot and swiftly handcuffed him.

“
You’re under arrest for the murder of Gary Thatcher,” she told him, then gave him his Miranda warning and shoved him toward the door.

Hank kicked the shotgun to one side and cautiously knelt beside the body of Tang, feeling the neck for a pulse. Nothing. He looked briefly into the lifeless eyes that stared back at him. Then he stood up and began to search the rest of the apartment. Polenti, now back on his feet and moving a little uncertainly, secured the shotgun.

Hank looked in the bathroom and saw a few toiletry items but nothing else. He looked in the bedroom and saw a small cot with tangled bedclothes, a wooden chair, discarded fast food wrappers, empty beer cans, an open suitcase with a few items of clothing and an array of firepower in the corner, including an assortment of assault rifles, several handguns and boxes of ammunition. Apparently Tang had been flopping here, despite the information they’d received that the apartment was empty.

He followed Karen and Billy out into the hallway as Breyer and Lewis came in, rain spraying from their uniform and boots as they hurried forward.

“
Fun’s over,” Cameron told them, emerging from Billy’s apartment with the handcuffed girl.

“
This pinhead would like a ride downtown,” Karen said, passing Billy over to Lewis. Breyer took the girl and the two officers walked their prisoners out to their cruiser.

“
I want my lawyer!” Billy called out over his shoulder.

Karen looked at Hank. “Asshole.”

The call came as Peter was in the middle of Sunday brunch. He was listening to a local newscast on his iPhone in which the arrest of Billy Fung for the murder of local businessman Gary Thatcher was being given headline treatment. He muted the news audio and answered the incoming call.

“
Wei
?”

“
I apologize profusely for interrupting the
Hung Kwan
during his meal time,” Henry Lee said in Cantonese, “but the
Shan Chu
required the
Hung Kwan’s
presence immediately.”

“
No problem, Henry,” Peter said, hiding his concern. “Where’ll I go?”

Henry explained that Lam was where he usually preferred to spend his Saturday afternoons. Peter called for Benny Hu and took a last few bites, but the food tasted like sawdust and he gave it up as a lost cause.

Hu drove him in the Lexus. As he stared out the window, Peter made a call that would set in motion the final silencing of Billy Fung, who would shortly be found hanged to death in his jail cell. When Peter put his iPhone away he felt depressed. It should never have come to this. He should have taken care of Billy before now, but he’d allowed his preoccupation with Martin’s revived case to have a negative effect on his focus. It was time to snap out of it.

Hu pulled up in front of a busy Chinese grocery store. The parking space immediately in front of the store was always vacant, despite the heavy traffic on the street and the popularity of the store. The neighborhood knew that important people used this parking space at unpredictable times and it was always left free. Anyone not from the area who made the mistake of parking in this spot was quickly told to move their vehicle. Arguments about whether or not to comply were never very long.

Peter walked through the grocery store, opened a door at the rear and stepped out into a small courtyard. An old woman looked up at him as she sorted fruit into two crates, one for good fruit and one for spoiled. Peter did not acknowledge her presence. He walked quickly through the courtyard. Finches chirped in a bamboo cage suspended from a tree branch nearby. He opened a gate that led into another courtyard and entered a garden containing a wide range of perennials and herbs, potted bulbs and ceramic ornaments spouting water. A little white dog skipped forward to meet him.