Russian Hill (Abby Kane FBI Thriller - Chasing Chinatown Trilogy Book 1) (19 page)

He moved quickly and quietly toward the apartment. What he found wasn’t unexpected but very opportunistic. There, with her back to him, was a tiny woman in a suit.
Perfect.
Looking to perform the same move twice, Jerry quietly advanced.

<><><>

Hearing the noise in the apartment directly above hers, Virginia Ayton immediately knew something was wrong. She hurried over to her phone, preparing to dial 911, when she saw a uniformed officer outside on the sidewalk talking to another man. She hung up the phone and opened her window. “Officer! Officer!”

Kang was talking to Officer Greg Loui when they both heard a woman’s voice shouting. They both looked around, searching for the source.

“Up here.”

Kang looked up to the building and saw an elderly woman waving at them from a window. He immediately headed toward the building entrance. “Is something wrong?” he shouted up to her.

“Yes, something terrible is happening in the apartment above me.”

Virginia buzzed both men into the building, and into the elevator they went as another resident exited. Kang accidently hit the fourth and fifth floor buttons simultaneously.
Shit!
Couple that with the inch-by-inch movement of the old elevator, and Kang uttered a few more choice words that echoed in the metal chamber. They were trapped at least until the next floor, which Kang pressed the button for immediately. Seconds felt like hours as Kang repeatedly slammed an open palm against the elevator cage, rattling it each time. He continued to curse himself for that button mistake but even more so for not taking the stairs.

<><><>

A squeak from the floor alerted me, and I turned in time to see a strange man with a blank look on his face moving toward me. Both of his arms were covered in blood. I rose to my feet fast enough to counter his swinging right with my left forearm. That’s when I noticed the razor in his hand.
There are two of them?

I delivered a punch to his right eye, hoping a knuckle would catch his eyeball. No such luck. I tried to move out of his reach, but a lucky grasp from his flailing left arm clamped down on my jacket and held me within striking distance of his blade. I immediately lifted my right leg, ready to retaliate with a foot strike to his gut. But in that moment, I remembered my father’s advice. “Abby, there’s an artery in the foot. If you can hit that blood vessel at its most vulnerable point, where the top of foot meets the leg, you will cause extreme pain. If you’re lucky enough, you’ll sever it, rendering the foot useless.”

I didn’t know if what my father had said was true, but the heel of my shoe raced toward that area like a blade on a guillotine. I hoped to hell he had been right.

“Arrrggghhh!” The man cried out as his eyes clamped shut.

Bingo!
I batted his hand off me and followed that with a knee to his groin, causing him to double over. I moved back as I reached inside my jacket for my weapon with my right hand. That’s when I felt the sharp pain on my left thigh. I looked down and saw blood beginning to soak through the cloth. My pant leg had been sliced, and his arm was swinging back toward me for another attempt. I hopped back just in time, causing him to miss, but he had momentum on his side, and he closed in on me quicker than I could have imagined.
What happened to rendering the foot useless?

The situation was dangerous. He was taller and outweighed me. I knew I would lose if he took me to the ground. I needed distance and continued to back up. I needed to remain on my feet. But luck wasn’t on my side.

My left foot was kicked out from under me.

Even though she was handcuffed, my suspect had free use of her legs. My mind raced, looking for my next move as I fell to the floor. I still had my hand on the butt of my weapon, but it slipped off when I hit the ground.

A smile grew on the man’s face as he fell on top of me in a straddle position. His right knee prevented me from drawing my weapon, but I at least had a grip on my Glock. Little did I know, things would get worse. My other suspect rolled over and slammed a leg down across my neck, choking me in her attempt to help keep me immobile.

I looked into the eyes of the man on top of me. His pupils were obscenely dilated and saliva dripped from his clenched teeth like a rabid dog. There was no talking my way out of this.

My options were limited. I had to act fast or add my name to the list of victims. I twisted my right hand for a better grip on my weapon’s handle. My index finger was still outside the trigger guard. I thought if I could fire a round, it might confuse the man on top of me, maybe even hit him and give me a splinter of an advantage but I couldn’t be sure of the angle of the barrel. The last thing I needed was to shoot myself in the hip.

“Move your leg,” he growled at the woman.

“Just kill her already,” she yelled back as she complied.

“What the fuck happened to you?” he asked.

“What does it look like, you stupid fuck? She broke my nose.”

At that point, I watched the man lean toward the woman, stick the blade into her neck and pull down, opening her throat. She gasped, and her body shook. She twisted and turned in a panic as she drained before her own eyes.

Without missing a beat, he focused back on me as if he hadn’t done what he had just done. I could still hear the woman’s gurgling panic off to the side as it began to calm. She was dying. He then placed the blade against the side of my neck. It felt warm.
Her blood?

In life, there are no do-overs. Over the years, I’ve learned that people have a better shot at success if they trust their instincts. It’s the wavering that causes the problems. Earlier, my instinct had presented an option to me. The question was, would I follow my own advice, or would I waver?

<><><>

The elevator slowed even more, if that were possible, as it neared the second floor. The cage bounced twice after stopping, and before Kang could react, the officer hit the fifth floor button again.

Kang knocked the officer’s hand away, and quickly gripped the handle of the heavy metal door and yanked back, stopping the elevator from moving again. “Are you kidding me?” he asked, looking the officer in the eye. “Did you not notice how slow we were moving?”

Unaware of his stupidity, the patrol officer shrugged. “Sorry. I thought—I mean, what are we racing toward anyhow?”

Kang felt like punching the guy, fellow officer or not. “I don’t have time to explain this shit to you if you can’t grasp the situation.” Kang shoved pass the officer, knocking him back with his shoulder as he slipped through the narrow opening of the elevator.

Kang used his long legs to his advantage and bounded up the steps two at a time until he reached the top floor. He didn’t bother waiting for the officer, who was still hurrying one step at a time.

At the top of the stairs, Kang saw Tucker. He was a mess and looked gone.
What the hell is going on?
Officer Loui caught up to him just then. “Call backup and get an ambulance over here. Now!”

Kang stood up and removed his weapon. His long gait propelled him down the hall to the apartment with the open door. He could hear a commotion. He raised his weapon, ready for anything. With his gun out in front, he leaned cautiously into the opening.

Bam!

Chapter 45

The bullet had ripped though Jerry’s upper, left thigh, causing him to rear back in pain and give me my slim advantage. I yanked my gun out of its holster, aimed up, and fired again. His bottom jaw exploded from the impact of the bullet. I fired again, catching him in the neck. He fell forward, his full weight resting on me. I started whacking him as hard as I could as I tried to wiggle out from underneath him. That’s when I saw Kang standing in the doorway.

“Don’t just stand there. Get this guy off me!”

Kang looked as if he had seen a ghost. I couldn’t understand his reaction. Clearly, I wasn’t dead. He stumbled forward, holstered his weapon and pulled the man off me. He held his hand out, and I grabbed it, allowing him to pull me to my feet.

“Are you okay?” he asked with that weird grimace still displayed on his face.

“I am now. What’s wrong with you? Why are you looking at me all funny?”

He grabbed me by my arms and turned me around so I faced the hanging mirror on the wall. Staring back at me was an Asian Carrie. I’m not talking about a few splatters on the face; it literally looked like someone had dunked my entire head into bucket filled with blood and sprinkled bits of flesh about my cheeks and forehead.

I knew I had crap on my face—I could feel it—but I wasn’t expecting to see that. I nearly vomited in my mouth before rushing into the bathroom to wash. I stuck my head under the shower faucet and used shampoo and soap liberally. It completely and utterly grossed me out.

While in there, I tied a shirt I had found around my thigh to curb the bleeding. With my adrenaline rush depleting, I began to feel a throbbing in my leg. The cut was deep enough that I knew I would need stitches and walking for the next few days would be uncomfortable.

My jacket hadn’t survived. It was badly soiled. I slipped it off knowing the forensic team would want it, but I wasn’t about to hang out with my face painted with human matter.

The two other officers who were searching the other street arrived then as well.

“Shit,” one of them blurted as they entered the apartment. I couldn’t blame them. The living room was a minefield of bodies with fresh blood everywhere. It wasn’t a pretty sight.

Kang had already removed the blanket to reveal a body with a large hole in its chest. “The owner of the heart.”

“He looks so young,” I said. The body was stiff, still in its rigor state. The cool air of the Bay area had helped to slow decomposition. It would have been a few more days before the smell would have signaled the neighbors on the floor.

Kang walked around to where I stood and gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You okay?”

I nodded. “A little bruised, and some stitches to my thigh are in order, but I’ll be fine. Probably need a new suit though,” I joked weakly.

Kang gave me a small courtesy smile. “There were two of them?” he said, still serious.

“It makes much more sense. The whole heart removal bugged me. That action was more in line with a male killer.”

Kang nodded in agreement and pocketed his hands.

“You check for ID yet?” I asked.

“Yeah. They had nothing on them. But the wig probably explains why no one could place her after that day on Mount Tamalpais. She probably only used it on kills or I guess for returning to crime scenes. We got lucky here.”

I walked over to where she lay and glanced at her from the same angle in the picture. The resemblance was unmistakable to me, even with her short, black hair. I let out a long, lingering breath before punching Kang in the arm. “We got ’em.”

“
You
got ’em.”

A lot of elements in the case had been stacked against us, but there we were, staring at our two dead sickos. I never thought it would play out this way, violent like this. I always hope to walk the bad guys into the jail cell, because death is easier than a life behind bars.

I looked around and realized Tucker wasn’t there. “Have you seen Agent Tucker?”

“Abby,” Kang said, his hand gently squeezing my arm.

“What? Where is he?” I asked, though the look in Kang’s eyes had me answering my own question.

He shook his head. “He’s gone. His body is outside, at the end of the hall.”

My knees buckled a bit, but with Kang’s help, I was able to catch myself before I fell.

“Take a seat, Abby.” Kang ushered me to a chair.

“No.” I shook my arm free from his grasp. “I need to see him.”

“Abby, it’s not pretty.”

He stepped in front of me and tried to stop me, but I pushed him out of my way and exited the apartment. From there, I saw Tucker’s body at the far end of the hall. He lay face down, his body crumpled as if he were cold. I fell back against the wall. My legs lost their urge to stand, and my body inched its way down the wall into a sitting position.

Why?
It was the only question I had.

My eyes never left Tucker, not for a second. I couldn’t have looked away even if I had wanted to. I didn’t. I felt Kang’s presence next to me and his hand on my shoulder. A beat later my vision blurred.

Chapter 46

The trip to the hospital cost me two hours from my day and earned me a week off, mandated by Reilly. I argued with him over the phone, but he wouldn’t have any of it.

“Abby, the FBI isn’t going anywhere. We’ll still be here after a week.”

“But the case! There are still a bunch of loose ends, and Agent Tucker—”

“Let me deal with him. I don’t want you anywhere near the office. Have you thought about counseling? Do you want to talk to someone?”

“No, I’m okay,” I said in a lowered voice.

“No one faults you for what happened. I don’t fault you. Do you understand that?”

I heard Reilly, but I wasn’t listening. He continued on about how he was behind me one hundred percent and that procedure was followed and what occurred was an unfortunate accident.

“Remember, Abby; you almost lost your life, too, so don’t beat yourself up about it. I’m glad you made it. Go home and be with your family.” Reilly hung up, and that was the last we spoke of Tucker.

Later, the hospital discharged me with a pair of crutches. The doctor told me to avoid vigorous activities, or I would risk tearing my wound open. Not a problem. I had already accepted my mandatory time off and looked forward to a little R&R with the family.

I never told them what exactly had happened. I never do. I gave them the downplayed version of events, the one that favored me. No need to make them any more upset than they would be once they saw I was injured—though I think Ryan was beginning to catch on to my tall tales. I was in my home office, a challenge getting there with crutches, when he stopped by to talk about my injury.

“I already told you,” I said, careful to keep the tone of my voice even.