The Killing Hands (17 page)

“Could we be talking about a different killer?”

“I guess it's possible, but like I said, the other injuries are almost definitely caused by the Ten Killing Hands. It's too coincidental to have both eye sockets and both cheekbones broken. It's characteristic of the Double Back-fist.” I replicate the strike in midair, clenching my fists and bringing my hands in an inward circular motion from the elbow joint, around, up and then downward onto an imaginary opponent. “And the forensic pathologist concluded that all four facial bones were broken using direct and downward force. Not like a punch that swings to one side in its arc.” I shake my head again. “No, we're definitely talking kung fu.”

“Maybe a different killer, but using the same techniques?” Hana suggests.

“That's possible.” I say, thinking. “Unless there's some other explanation as to why he manually strangled the victim.”

“Anything else come to mind, Anderson?” Petrov taps his pen against the palm of his hand.

I think about the different ways our perp could have killed the victim, and why he might not have used those methods. I come up with one hypothesis. “Manual strangulation is more personal than using kung fu. The killer would have both hands around the victim's throat and would have been close, almost intimate.”

“So maybe the killer knew this victim—” Ramos glances at the table in front of him “—knew Li Chow.”

I nod slowly. “I like it. From a behavioral perspective it fits.”

“And it fits if the killer's Chinese.” Petrov scribbles something down in his notebook as he talks. “Presumably he's more likely to know someone in one of the tongs than other racial criminal groups. Most of these groups still have strong ties to their homeland. So maybe Chow had ties with our killer.” Petrov crosses to the whiteboard again, and writes
Li Chow (New York) knew the killer?

Once Petrov's sitting down again, I continue. “The next victim, that same year, was also Chinese and from the Hip Sing Association. But it was in Chicago and it was a regular Killing Hands kill. This is the killer's youngest victim, at nineteen. Shen Chan was killed in a parking garage as he was about to get into his car. The Side Tiger Claw combines a throat grab with an eye gouge, which is why he died of asphyxiation but also had severe damage to his eyes. His left eye had been torn from its socket and was only just attached by the optic nerve. Like many of our other victims, he also had a dislocated elbow, indicating our killer used the Angry Tiger Descends the Mountain technique to soften his opponent before going for the kill strike. Unlike the previous Hip Sing murder in the same year, Okawara was very low in the organization, a mere foot soldier. Chicago police were puzzled initially, but then they discovered Okawara was the godson of someone higher up in the organization so they decided the hit was symbolic, made to anger the older man.”

Again, Petrov makes some notes, perhaps wanting to confirm the why behind the hit.

“And that brings us to our last victim before Saito, one Alexander Ivanovich, San Diego, 2007.”

“My comrade,” Petrov says with a Russian accent.

“Yes. And the only Russian victim.” I state the obvious. “A bit of a departure from MO again here in terms of cause of death, but we've still got definite links to the Killing Hands, with both of Ivanovich's eardrums burst. He was stabbed, once, although it was more of a slice. The forensic pathologist even thought the blade was big enough to be some sort of sword.”

“I know the Japanese use samurai swords, what do you use in kung fu?” Ramos asks.

“Kung fu uses the butterfly swords, which would fit with the one-and-a-half-inch wound to the chest. The killer did severely damage the heart, and the ultimate cause of death was blood loss. The heart was pierced and pumping blood out of the wound.”

“So why the sword?” Ramos asks me.

“I'm not sure.” I stop to consider. “Petrov, any reason why this method of killing could be requested for a Russian victim?”

Petrov runs his right fingertips across his lips. “Nothing racial or cultural that I can think of. But maybe personal?” Petrov strides to the whiteboard and writes it up as
Sword for Russian victim in San Diego?
He stays standing and looks at me. “Anything else?”

“Well, I would like to spend more time on the
dim mak
angle…contact the forensic pathologists in each case and get them to send their full autopsy reports and photos over. Not everything would have been logged in ViCAP.”

Petrov nods. “And talk to Grove, too. The man knows his stuff. I want us to be absolutely certain that we are looking at the Ten Killing Hands and this
dim mak
. If we throw our resources at that angle and we're wrong…”

“Yes, sir.” I finish off my update by telling the team about Lee's list of people in the US capable of the Ten Killing Hands, and Lee's cousin in China.

“An inside source will be invaluable,” Petrov says.

I nod my agreement.

“Okay. Before we finish this list off and assign some tasks—” Petrov taps the whiteboard “—I'll take you through what we've come up with to date on who may have put the contract out on Saito's life.” He turns the whiteboard around—a blank canvas. “Okay, the first option is the L.A. Yakuza themselves or someone within the Yakuza here.” He writes
L.A. Yakuza
on the board and directly underneath it sticks a photo up on the whiteboard using a magnet. “This is the L.A. boss, Tomi Moto.” From the photo he draws a
vertical line, and then sticks up another photo directly underneath it. “And this is his second-in-charge, Takeshi Suzuki.”

Both photographs are obviously surveillance shots and a little grainy, indicating they were taken from afar and blown up.

“I've put together some key information and will e-mail that through to you all after this meeting. But the basics…Tomi Moto was born here in L.A. sixty years ago. He's been the L.A. boss for ten years now, when his father handed the reins over to him. His second-in-charge, Takeshi Suzuki, immigrated here when he was thirty years old, ten years ago. He doesn't have any criminal convictions, here or in Japan, but as far as we know he started working for the Yakuza almost as soon as he arrived in the States, working his way up the ranks. He climbed the ladder quickly, and was even second-in-charge to Tomi Moto's father for a year and a half before Tomi took over. It's possible that either of these men ordered the hit on Saito.” He puts little asterisks next to each of the photos. “However, our intelligence indicates that when Saito was active in the organization in Tokyo, he actually had strong ties to L.A., to Tomi Moto's father. So unless they had a falling out it's unlikely Moto ordered the hit on Saito. In fact, hitting Saito would be an extremely offensive act to Tomi Moto and an insult to his father's memory.”

“His father's dead?” I ask.

“Yes. Just last year.” Petrov continues, “Another possibility is that a different regional arm of the Yakuza ordered the hit. Maybe the San Francisco boss is responsible and wanted to piss off Tomi Moto here in L.A.” He writes
Another regional arm of Yakuza
on the board, underneath the photos of Moto and Suzuki.

“But why would someone in San Francisco hit Saito? Wouldn't they just hit someone in the L.A. arm?” I ask.

Petrov shrugs. “It's impossible to know for sure, but like I said, Moto would take Saito's death personally.” He waits a beat. “The other possibility for an internal Yakuza hit is that it's one of the Japanese members making a statement
about Koreans in the organization. While Koreans have been part of the Yakuza since the 1920s, some Japanese feel that the Yakuza should be exclusively full-blood Japanese. So it's possible one of these race extremists took Saito out as the symbol of Korean Yakuza. He's not just any Korean in the Yakuza, he's the son of the first Korean to be part of the Japanese Mafia. This hit could be a racial message.”

We all nod, taking in the information.

“Anything from your informants?” Williams asks. “I haven't heard anything back from mine yet.”

Petrov looks at Hana, Ramos and me. “We've been trying to refine our theories a little by getting some cold, hard intelligence.”

Petrov returns his gaze to Williams. “I've been squeezing everybody I know, and hard. So far no one's talking, but eventually they will.”

Williams nods.

“Anything from you, De Luca?”

“No. But I only put the word out yesterday.”

“Okay.” Petrov writes up
Targeting Korean Yakuza—racial statement
on the whiteboard. “The next possibility is the Asian Boyz, given Saito was seen in their Long Beach meth lab. We haven't been able to confirm official Yakuza involvement in the Long Beach residence at this stage. And we still don't know what Saito was doing there, or why.” Petrov writes
Asian Boyz
in a new column. “So perhaps the Yakuza was taking over their territory, and they knew of the symbolic significance of Saito's death.” Petrov writes up
Territorial dispute
underneath the new column.

“Is there any other reason why the Asian Boyz would hit the Yakuza?” Williams asks.

Petrov shakes his head. “Not that we know of. But it's possible.” He adds
Unknown vendetta/dispute
to the Asian Boyz column. “Okay, let's move on to other possibilities.” He takes a deep breath. “There's always competition in organized crime. In some ways they operate like many normal businesses, competing for the same work, the same income sources. So, it's possible that the Yakuza has pissed
off another organized crime syndicate in L.A.” Petrov writes up a new column entitled
Organized crime
. “We know there are active members of the Italian mafia here in L.A., in addition to the Russian Mafia and a few of the Chinese triads and tongs.” He writes each group on the board, underneath his new column. “All are possible employers of our hit man.”

I look at the board. “Wow, we have a lot of options. Too many.”

“Yes,” Petrov concedes. “At this stage we need to come up with as many viable theories as possible and then see what fits with the evidence as it comes in.”

“Evidence…that's something we don't have much of.”

Unfortunately, Hana is spot-on.

“Not yet.” Petrov stays positive. “But the lab's still processing the crime scene, Saito's hotel room and Mee Kim's house. Hopefully something will come through.”

Williams runs his hand over his skull. “What we really need is some inside information. Any undercover operatives in the Yakuza or Asian Boyz?”

“No.” Petrov flicks the whiteboard marker up and down between his fingers. “I checked the HIDTA War Room, too. Nothing.”

The War Room is part of the L.A. High Intensity Drug Trafficking Areas program run out of the Office of National Drug Control Policy. It's an intelligence center that provides support and tracks all federal, state and local undercover operatives. The aim is to stop undercover cops from shooting undercover DEA agents, and so on.

“Besides,” Petrov continues, “this hit has been sanctioned pretty high up and it'd take years to get an undercover operative into that level of the Yakuza or the Asian Boyz—if ever.”

“We must be able to get someone in.” Williams is frustrated.

“You know how these things are, Williams.” Petrov sighs. “Most of these guys grew up together, have known each other for years. And breaking into that is almost impossible.”

“We could work on this homicide for twelve months and still be none the wiser.” Williams's voice is softer. “We're talking about a professional hit man here. And he's good. Can we at least start the ball rolling and try to get an undercover operative in?”

“We've got undercover agents set up as distributors and the like,” Hana says.

“Yeah, but that's not going to help us with Saito's murder.”

Hana is silent.

Petrov holds his hands up. “All right. I'll look into the undercover angle. But in the meantime, let's focus on what we've got and the forensics that'll be coming through. Okay?”

Williams nods.

“Great. Let's split up these tasks.”

I
look at the final whiteboard list I copied into my notebook.

Petrov's set it up so Ramos and I are concentrating on elements of the investigation that don't need a comprehensive understanding of organized crime or gangs. And while my name's up there quite a bit, some of the tasks the others have been assigned could turn out to be more onerous.

For the moment, Ramos and I set up a project room, ready to go through the two folders on the desk—one for
Mee Kim and one for her mother, Sun-Mi Kim. But I'll be making my exit to see Lloyd Grove soon.

“I'm going to check in with the lab.” Ramos pulls out his cell phone. “I'll try my charm on the phone first, see how far that gets me. Otherwise I might be making a road trip, too.” He punches in the number. “Hi, Court. It's Detective Ramos…just checking on those prints from Little Tokyo…yup, I've got it here…” Ramos flips to the front of his notebook. “Case file number 543248J.” The number's written in big red print across the notebook's cover. “Okay…will do. I was thinking of dropping in…right…okay. Yup. Can you transfer me to Trace, then?” He looks up. “She assures me today, and that there's no point coming in person.”

I'm about to comment, when Ramos holds up his pointer finger at me, asking me to hold on. “Yup, I'm here.” Ramos reads the case file number out again. “Okay…uh-huh…yep.” He hangs up. “Trace is done with Saito's clothes, but they didn't find anything. No traces of hair, other fibers or drugs.” He leans back. “Maybe I should drop in on Court.”

I smile. “I wouldn't want you breathing down my neck, either.” But even though I say it, we all know that sometimes our physical presence does get a case bumped up the list. All's fair in love and war—and homicide is war.

After a few seconds, Ramos says, “No, I'll stick with Mee, while you go see Grove.”

I nod. My priority has to be Jun Saito's body. So while Ramos starts going through the files on Mee and Sun-Mi Kim, I head off to the coroner's office. Earlier, I'd quickly flicked through the four books Lee lent me and chosen one for Grove, the one written by the M.D. Grove's medical knowledge will quickly be able to back up or refute pressure points. I also take the chart Lee gave me.

It's 11:00 a.m. by the time I pull into the parking lot, and when I get to Grove's office he's sitting at his desk, Googling
dim mak
.

He looks up and smiles. “Intriguing stuff, Anderson.
Although I haven't been able to find anything concrete on the Web yet, medically speaking that is.”

I pass him the book.

“Death Touch: The Science Behind the Legend of Dim Mak,”
he reads out.

“I need you to tell me how realistic it is. I've only had a quick look so far, but it does make for some interesting reading.”

“Such as?” He flicks to the contents page.

“It actually relates the
dim mak
pressure points to the nervous system. According to this book, most of the points lie on peripheral nerves, and attacking these points can cause changes in the autonomic nervous system.”

Grove nods. “Which controls blood pressure, heart rate, digestion, breathing and so on.”

“So the theory is that direct strikes can fool the nervous system into doing something it wouldn't normally, like speeding up your heart rate or increasing your blood pressure.”

“Sure. I can see that.”

“One of the particular pressure points that my kung fu teacher mentioned was stomach 9, here.” I point to the area on the side of my neck, and also show Grove one of the diagrams.

“Yes, the carotid sinus and vagus nerve. It is an extremely sensitive area. In fact, if someone's suffering from an arrhythmia, we often use what are called vagal maneuvers as a treatment.”

“Vagal?”

“Along the vagus nerve. A simple massage in that area has been shown to decrease the chances of a fatal ventricular fibrillation.”

“But could striking that area cause ventricular fibrillation?” I ask.

Grove's brow furrows. “What does our guy say?” He taps the book.

“It's a yes from him. I've only had a quick flick through it and there is a section on the heart. I'll leave it with you?”

“Definitely. I'll read it with great interest.”

“Now, on to Jun Saito. I'd like to see if
dim mak
was used during the attack on him.”

“You know the throat wound entry points are exactly on this stomach 9 point you showed me.” He points to the anatomy diagram.

I nod. “And the damage to the vagus nerve is consistent, too.” Some of the points are clustered very closely together, but nonetheless Saito's throat injuries are in line with stomach 9 and stomach 10 on either side of Saito's Adam's apple. “So even the way the throat was targeted could be
dim mak
.”

Grove shrugs. “Well, whether your killer was targeting the carotid artery for a bleed-out or the acupoint, death was inevitable.”

“What do you think of his wound, now that we're thinking it was caused by bare hands?”

“It's still some force. And very direct. We're talking fingertips?”

I hold my hand up in a tiger shape. “The webbing between the killer's thumb and forefinger puts pressure on the trachea, and the thumb and fingertip would have struck and dug into the sides of the neck.”

Grove studies my hand shape. “That's in line with the victim's body.”

I change my hand shape to a horizontal open palm with the palm facing upward. “In
dim mak
that particular point, the stomach 9, can also be struck with an upward scoping method for maximum effect.” I strike an imaginary target with the outside edge of my hand and keep the movement going upward. “This is the technique my teacher mentioned that could dislodge plaque and cause a stroke.”

He nods. “Heart attack or stroke. Certainly if we're looking at an older individual, or anyone with narrowing arteries, a hard strike could have that impact.”

I blow out a deep sigh. It might be time to go back to ViCAP, see if I can't track down some more of our hit man's victims. But only violent crimes are inputted, and if the killer only used the pressure-point techniques and not the Ten Killing Hands, chances are the victim could seem un
scathed. Their death would have been ruled natural and certainly wouldn't be recorded as a violent homicide in ViCAP.

The final strike that may have been used by our killer is a knuckle strike, which I demonstrate for Grove.

“Okay. Guess it's time to pay Mr. Jun Saito another visit.” Grove stands up.

“Yup.”

Grove leads the way down to one of the autopsy rooms.

“The other thing my teacher said, Doc, is that for the nerve strikes, you'd be looking to stretch the nerve as much as possible or impact it against bone to compress it. Does that sound right?”

He keeps walking. “Sure. At the very least, that's going to cause extreme pain. And maybe it would have some detrimental effects on the nervous system, too.” He opens the door.

Saito lies on an examination table, with a tray of surgical instruments next to him.

“I got my assistant to get him ready for us.”

I nod.

“So, where am I looking?” Grove snaps on gloves.

I bring out the chart. “According to Lee, we should check a few points on the arm. The heart setups are the most commonly used death strikes. Pericardium 6 is on the inside of the arm, about two inches from the hand.” I show Grove the acupoint on the anatomy chart.

“Which arm?”

“Let's check both.”

Grove cuts around the area on Saito's right arm and peels back the skin. “Nothing here.” He repeats the process on the left arm. “Wow, here it is. Definite trauma on this side.” He points to a red and inflamed area around the pressure point.

“Bingo.”

In total, Lee suggested I check ten of the more lethal
dim mak
points and we gradually make our way through each point on Saito's body. Not all of them show trauma, but four points do—stomach 9, the area around the throat wound; pericardium 6 on the arm; kidney 22 on the middle of the rib cage; and heart 3, near the elbow joint.

“What do you think?” I ask.

“These areas have definitely been struck and by a direct and forceful impact. But why would the killer use pressure points and sever the carotid artery?”

I shrug. “I guess he wanted a contingency plan. If the
dim mak
didn't get Saito, the blood loss from the throat wound would.” I peer over the body. “Any sign of trauma to the heart?”

Grove shakes his head. “The heart was fine. But if these strikes really do work and it all happened fast enough, maybe he bled out before his heart could give out.”

“How long would he have had once the carotid artery was severed and he started bleeding?”

“Only five to ten minutes. On the lower end of that spectrum if his heart was already pumping fast from the attack.”

“That's not long.”

We're both silent over the body.

After a few minutes, Grove says, “Well, I've got my weekend reading lined up…Anything else here, Anderson?”

“Not for Saito, but I do have another question.”

He peels off his gloves. “Uh-huh.”

“You ever heard of heart concussion?”

“Sure.
Commotio cordis
. Not a common cause of death. The reported cases usually involve sporting accidents, like trauma from a hockey puck, a baseball, a hockey stick…that sort of thing. But the timing must be extremely precise.”

Lee had mentioned the timing, too.

“How precise?”

“There's a small window of time, fifteen to thirty milliseconds, when the heart is repolarizing and getting ready for the next beat. That's when it's vulnerable.”

“You think it's possible with kung fu punches?”

“Maybe. Why?”

“It's one other thing my teacher mentioned. Apparently there are a few direct
dim mak
attack points in the chest wall, and that book correlates the points with heart concussion.”

Grove considers it. “Again, plausible. If the force was hard enough.”

“They've tested the force outputted by different martial arts punches and a boxer's punch. They're all very high.”

“True. So I guess the answer's yes—a skilled martial arts practitioner could strike the chest wall hard enough to cause heart concussion.”