The Killing Hands (22 page)

“Assaulting or killing law-enforcement officers will bring all sorts of heat onto your organization,” I say.

He laughs. “I'm untouchable, Agent Anderson. This is my town.”

“What if we help you find out who killed Saito?” Ramos pipes up.

“And what would you do, Detective? Arrest him? Charge him?” Laughter again. “I have a different idea about the retribution this man will face. And law enforcement needs to learn to stay out of our turf! Tell that to your bosses.” He pauses. “We'll handle this matter in-house.”

I make out three sets of footsteps, moving away from us.

“Wait until we're gone.” The boss is leaving and taking two others with him, probably his personal bodyguards or right-hand men.

I don't know what they're going to do to us, but he just gave us a message…to pass on to our bosses. So maybe my dream was off base. Looks like Ramos and I are going to make it out of this thing alive.

A car door opens and closes, and then another two car doors follow. I can imagine someone opening the door for the boss, and then getting into the car themselves once the boss is loaded. The engine starts and the car moves away.

“We're gonna send a strong message to law enforcement.” It's a new voice and I can hear pleasure in his tone, the disturbing kind of pleasure.

I tug on my ropes, but it's futile, Miki tied me up real tight. I imagine Ramos is finding he's in the same predicament.

There's silence for what seems like an eternity, before I hear another two sets of footsteps, car doors and then a car engine starts.

Without any warning, three shots are fired. My eyes blink rapidly; I'm unable to comprehend what's just happened. What's happening.

“No!” Miki screams out. “I want to do her!” I can feel his anger boiling over. “I want to get the bitch back for scratching me. Leave!”

“Ramos?” I repeat his name several times, but there's no answer. My breathing is heavy and fast, waiting for the searing pain as the bullet enters me, just like it did in my dream.

Then the silence is broken by the other voice. “Whatever you say, Miki. Have fun.” Again, there's the hint of pleasure in the voice, satisfaction. Another two sets of footsteps move away, and two car doors open and close. But the engine doesn't start. They must be waiting for Miki.

“What have you done?” I scream. “Why have you done this?”

No response.

“You don't have to do this. I haven't seen your face.”

“It doesn't matter.” Miki's voice is soft, almost tender.

Tears start to roll down my cheeks. Ramos is dead. Three shots. And I'm next. I take a deep breath but it's cut short by a burning pain as I fall backward.

I
force my eyes open, groggy and confused. All I can hear is beep…beep…beep. As my eyes open fully I make sense of the noise—heart monitor. I'm in hospital.

“She's awake.”

I move my head to the voice. Petrov.

“Agent Petrov.” My voice is raspy and dry. Weak. I suddenly recall that I was shot. “I was shot.”

“Yes.” He moves closer.

“Sorry about that.”

I freeze. It's the voice. Miki. I instinctively reach under the pillow for my gun, but it's not there. I'm not at home now. I turn my head to the other side of the room and Marcus from my kung fu class stands next to Agent Joe De Luca. And then I realize—Marcus and Miki are one and the same person.

“He's the one who shot me.” I shake my head, wondering when I'll wake up from this nightmare. Or maybe I'm dead.

“Agent Sophie Anderson, meet Special Agent Dan Young from the DEA.”

“Agent? DEA?”

“Hi.” He grins. “Sorry about shooting you. I went for your shoulder. It was the best I could do under the circumstances.”

“DEA?” I repeat, still trying to get around the concept that Marcus from kung fu is really a DEA agent called Dan Young, who is obviously undercover in the Yakuza. Even without whatever pain meds they've got me on that'd take some processing.

He nods. “I've been undercover here for twelve months as Marcus Miki.”

I look to Petrov for confirmation and he gives me a nod.

“But why didn't you say something? Why didn't you tell me?”

Petrov crosses his arms. “We've got a leak in the Gang Impact Team.”

“What?” I can't contain my surprise. “Damn!”

“Tell me about it.” De Luca runs his hand across his skull. “We've been trying to pinpoint who for over a year now. And that's why we got someone external, Dan, to go in. Dan's from New York and was undercover in the Yakuza over there. We needed a complete outsider and Agent Young here fit the bill, so we got him transferred.”

Young takes a few steps forward. “I started doing some deals with L.A., getting to know a few people on the West Coast, and eventually someone vouched for me. I was in.”

“But…” I let the sentence hang, not sure what I was about to protest. The bombshells just keep coming.

“There are only a few of us who know about it.” Petrov pushes his hands into his pockets. “Me, Joe and Brady. I went to him when Joe and I first had our suspicions. Brady's in charge of our investigation into the Gang Impact Team.”

No wonder Petrov seemed especially floored by Saito's death. He wasn't only thinking about the possibility of retaliation, he was also thinking about how the news would affect the task force and the leak…or whether the hit was somehow related.

“Ramos? Is he…?”

“He's in intensive care.”

I breathe a sigh of relief. He's alive.

“And for the record, I didn't shoot Ramos, only you.
Moto's orders were shoot, but not to kill. But I knew straightaway that the shot to Ramos was life-threatening.” Agent Young clasps his hands together. “And I didn't want them to mess up with you, too. So I stepped in. I shot you.”

Even with Petrov and De Luca vouching for him, I find it hard to believe Dan/Marcus. The man shot me, for goodness' sake. I don't respond. Instead I say, “So the man in the warehouse. That was Moto?” Thinking of his voice sends a cold shiver down my spine.

“Yes. And Takeshi Suzuki was there, too.”

I nod, small fast movements, but then my thoughts immediately go back to Ramos. “Ramos took three bullets.” I bite my lip. Three's a lot.

“No. One bullet,” Agent Young says. “The other two shots were for Jason Pham of the Asian Boyz and Ichi Noda from the Yakuza. The boss didn't want any leads from you and Ramos back to us. So he ordered them to be taken out, just in case someone saw them bring you to the warehouse. A Yakuza guy called Ken Tanabe shot them, and then turned his gun on Ramos.”

I nod, relieved it was only one bullet for Ramos and feeling only fleetingly sorry for Pham and Noda.

I notice the faint scab forming across Young's cheek from my nails.

He follows my gaze and runs his finger along the one-inch wound. “You did pretty good for someone who was blindfolded.”

I manage a small chuckle. “Thanks.”

“Agent Young sent me a text from the car. The paramedics were there five minutes later.”

I nod, still absorbing everything. “But we checked the War Room for undercover operatives. How come you're not in there?”

I ask the question of Agent Young, but it's De Luca who replies. “We've kept this operation completely off the books, because of the leak.”

Young's taking risks. If I could have, I would have shot him—exactly the reason why the HIDTA War Room exists
in the first place. But I understand they don't have a lot of options. “Ramos,” I say. “Tell me more about Ramos.”

There's silence and a few glances.

“Is he going to be okay?”

“The bullet did a lot of damage. He was in surgery for ten hours.”

“And?”

“They say it's too early to be sure.”

“Oh, God.” I chew on my bottom lip. “His wife? Kids?”

Petrov nods. “They're here.”

Young crosses his arms. “I can't work out if Ken made a mess of the shot or if it was his intention to kill you both. And if it was, was he acting alone or under someone's orders?” Young's clearly confused. “I need to talk to Moto about it…if I can.”

A doctor enters the room. “Glad to see you awake, Agent Anderson.”

“Anderson, this is Dr. Goldman. Your surgeon.”

“Nice to meet you.” I try to sit up a little and hold out my hand.

“Take it easy, Agent Anderson. You've only been out of surgery for sixteen hours.”

“Sixteen hours?” Another realization hits. My parents. How am I going to tell them about this? If they find out they'll be on the first plane out here. But the Bureau probably would have already notified them. Next of kin, and all. “Do my parents know?”

Petrov nods. “They're on their way here now. Their plane lands in two hours and I've organized someone to pick them up at the airport.”

I throw my head back into the pillow and sigh.

“Did I do the wrong thing?”

“My parents aren't keen on me being in law enforcement. Think it's too dangerous.” I grimace.

“I see. So this will be ammunition for them…so to speak.”

“Uh-huh.”

The doctor moves in. “Can I have a minute please, gentlemen?”

De Luca, Young and Petrov all nod and retreat.

“How are you feeling?” Dr. Goldman asks as she shines a torch into my eyes.

For the first time I think about my body…what I'm feeling. I feel groggy and a little numb all over. “Fine. A little spacey, I guess.”

She nods. “It's the pain meds. We've just moved you off morphine and onto codeine, but I'll be reducing your dose over the next few days.”

“Few days?”

She laughs. “You're one of those.” She finishes checking the drip and gives me a friendly but stern look. “You've been shot. You'll be in here for about a week.”

“A week?”

“Yes.” She leans over me. “I need to see the stitches, the wound. I'll just untie your hospital gown.” As she starts undoing the ties, I realize I'm anxious to see the wound myself. It hits me again…I was shot.

At first all I can see is a white dressing that's covered in brown-colored splotches. I know it's Betadine, the disinfectant they would have smothered on the wound postsurgery, not dried blood.

She gently works on one side of the dressing and I have my chin to my chest to try to see. Once she's lifted one side of the tape, she pulls the dressing off, slowly. On my left shoulder is about a three-quarters-of-an-inch slit, with two stitches holding it together. The bullet wound would have been circular when I came in, and Dr. Goldman has sewn the skin together to form a slit. Both the wound and the stitching are small and neat. I'm lucky it wasn't a round that's designed to cause maximum damage.

“I tried to make it as neat as possible for you, but if you're concerned about the scar you can get plastic surgery to minimize it.”

I shrug, not quite able to visualize it fully healed. “I don't know. Can I think about it?”

“Sure.”

She moves in closer to the wound and examines it care
fully, gently pressing around the area with a freshly gloved hand. “How does it feel?”

“Tender,” I admit, my body stiffening with pain.

“I'll just take a look at the exit wound.” She bends me forward slightly, and repeats the process on the back of my shoulder.

“Ouch!” I say as she presses the wound, but this time not so gently.

“The bullet shattered part of your shoulder blade on its way out. We got rid of all the debris from the surrounding area, but that's going to be the most painful part for a while.”

“Uh-huh.” My teeth are clenched, ready for another poke or prod, but nothing comes.

She puts a new dressing on both sides of the wound before checking my monitors. “Your heart rate's still elevated, but that'll come down soon, too.”

“Will there be any permanent damage? To my lungs or anything?”

“No. The bullet missed your lungs…and all other vital organs. You're a very lucky young woman.”

I'm silent, knowing that it was more Young's skill than my luck. Mind you, there's not really any good place to be shot. With so many vital organs to miss, plus major arteries that could have caused me to bleed out, maybe luck did play a part.

“I'm a bit of a fitness buff. I'll be able to run again?”

“Yes.” She fingers the stethoscope around her neck. “But not for several weeks.”

I groan, imagining how much fitness I'll lose in a couple of months. “And when can I go back to work?”

“You'll be fine for sedentary work in about two weeks, but I'd wait another six weeks before you started thinking about normal activities. You need to give your bone time to heal.”

Six weeks. Man. What about the case? What about Mee Kim? If Agent Young was responsible for making her “disappear,” then surely she's still alive. That's if he can be trusted. Twelve months is a long time undercover. People
can easily become corrupted in that time. And I don't know how long he was undercover in New York. When you're deep within an organization it can be hard to draw the line between what's absolutely necessary for you to maintain your cover and what's not. And the line can shift. First you witness crime and can't do anything about it, then maybe you have to be more active, show everyone around you what a badass you are. Some undercover operatives get lost in the criminal world they're supposed to be undermining, even though officially an undercover agent is not supposed to engage in any illegal activities.

Once Dr. Goldman's filled out the chart at the end of my bed, she leaves and tells me she'll be back to check up on me tomorrow.

Petrov, Young and De Luca must have been waiting nearby, because within a couple of minutes they reappear.

I'm immediately all business. I still have questions. Questions I want answered. They're barely in the room when I start. “What did you do with Mee?” I ask Young.

“She's under Yakuza protection.”

“Yakuza protection?”

“Yes. Moto was using
disappear
like we might for our Witness Protection Program.”

“But why's he protecting her?”

“We've gradually been piecing this together, Anderson.” Petrov nods at Young, giving him the go-ahead to tell the story.

“As best as we can make out, Jun Saito fled Tokyo and the Yakuza fifteen years ago. I don't know what he has been doing, if anything, since then but according to Moto he hasn't been involved in organized crime. He's been clean and lying low in Singapore. But then three weeks ago someone found him and discovered he had a daughter here in L.A., Mee Kim.”

I look at Petrov and De Luca. “You knew all along that Saito was her father!”

“Kind of,” Petrov says. “We didn't know names at first. Saito was using another name during his contact with the
Yakuza and the daughter's name was never mentioned. Then we discovered your victim was Jun Saito, and Young here ID'd him as Moto's recent visitor. We were still trying to get a name for the mystery daughter when the computer tech found Mee Kim's name on Saito's computer. It was only then that all the pieces fell into place for us.”

I shake my head, remembering the conversations we've had wondering if Mee Kim knew Jun Saito or was even his daughter. They pretended they didn't know anything at all.