White Ghost (33 page)

C
larence Tung and his men waiting outside Sunny Glory were groggy from the heat and humidity released from their bodies trapped in the closed vans. Uncomfortable though he was, it thrilled him to think about how the heroin's arrival at Sunny Glory and its smooth distribution would move him up in Ah Ming's organization.

He knew it was a test and he was determined to pass it.

From a tinted side window, Clarence watched a parade of express mail couriers and clerks come and go through the front doors of Sunny Glory. Cargo vans arrived empty and left riding low on their shocks. He saw businesspeople arrive for meetings and clerks and warehouse workers leave for lunch and return. All that interrupted the stillness inside his van were the sounds of passing traffic and commercial jets that vibrated the van as they swept down toward the San Francisco International Airport, a few miles south.

As the sound of an airplane engine faded, Clarence heard one of his men yawn. Clarence turned to prod him to keep him quiet.

The doors on the van swung open.

Clarence and his men stared up the barrels of Glock pistols brandished by Asian men who climbed in and disarmed them.

“Who are you?” a flat-nosed invader asked. His voice was low and hard, and his eyes moved from man to man, trying to identify who was in charge.

Clarence straightened up.

“None of your—”

The barrel of a Glock cracked down across the bridge of Clarence's nose. It made a crunch that reverberated to the back of his head. His eyes blurred with tears, blood flowed into his mouth.

“Let me try again.”

“We're just waiting to pick up some goods. That's all.”

Flat Nose raised his gun.

Clarence cringed, covering his head with his hands. He felt his fingers crack, then numbness, then nauseating pain.

“We were hired to watch for a container,” Clarence said.

“And then what?”

“Call in.”

“To who?”

Clarence couldn't think of an answer, knowing his uncle would murder even one of his own relatives for disloyalty.

Flat Iron ratcheted back the slide on his Glock.

Clarence broke. “His name is Ah Ming.”

Clarence felt his whole body slump with relief when Flat Nose tucked his gun into his shoulder holster. Then fear again when Flat Nose issued orders to gag them.

F
LAT
N
OSE LEFT ONE OF HIS CREW
in each van and walked to the driver's side of a Taurus parked close by.

The driver lowered the window.

Flat Nose leaned down. “You're right. They're Ah Ming's security people.”

“Let's go in.”

The driver grabbed his suit jacket and a briefcase from the passenger seat and followed Flat Nose through Sunny Glory's swinging front doors. They walked up to the reception desk where Flat Nose asked to speak with Chau.

“Do you have an appointment?” the receptionist asked, glancing up at the sound of his voice.

One look at his face and she grasped that he was a man who didn't make appointments.

Flat Nose shook his head.

“May I give him your name?”

“No.”

The receptionist buzzed Chau and told him he had visitors.

“Please sit down,” the receptionist told them. “He'll be out in a minute.”

The men were still standing when Chau appeared. He looked back and forth between the two, then swallowed hard and led them to his office. Chau sat behind his desk, and the suited man sat in a chair next to the door. Flat Nose stood facing Chau.

“We want the container,” Flat Nose said.

“Which container?” Chau tried to hold his voice steady even as fear welled inside him. “Containers are arriving here all the time.”

“The one for the guy who runs East Wind.”

“For . . . for . . . who are you?”

Chau flinched as Flat Nose stepped forward.

“That's not important. There's something inside that belongs to us. We'll take what's ours, then leave. No one gets hurt unless you decide to fuck with us.”

Chau's voice rose in panic. “But the container isn't coming here.” He couldn't give what he didn't have. “I signed it over to East Wind yesterday.”

Flat Nose drew his gun. “I told you. Don't fuck with us. If you fuck with us, you're dead.”

“I have a copy of the bill of sale. I signed it myself.”

Chau reached into his out-tray with shaking hands, dragging the whole stack of paper out onto his desk. He tore through them, finally locating the copy and handing it to Flat Nose.

Flat Nose scanned it.

“Shit.” Flat Nose turned to his companion. “Stay here.”

Flat Nose looked back to Chau, then balled up the bill of sale and threw it at him.

“If it isn't at East Wind, I'm coming back here to fuck you up and your whole motherfucking family.”

As the door closed behind Flat Nose, the impassive man in the business suit extracted a handgun from his briefcase.

“Call the receptionist,” the man said. “Tell her you don't want to be disturbed. And speak calmly.”

Chau reached for the phone and passed on the message, then looked up at the man and asked, “All right?”

The man didn't respond. He just stared ahead.

Although Chau hardly noticed him when Flat Nose was in the room, he found this visitor far more unnerving and frightening than the one who had left.

The man stared and stared.

Chau finally lowered his eyes.

F
LAT
N
OSE LEFT TWO MEN
to guard Clarence's group and took the rest with him toward East Wind. He called his boss in Big Circle in Bangkok as he drove.

“The container isn't on its way to Sunny Glory. It's going straight to East Wind. Chau showed me the bill of sale. Signed yesterday.”

“Do you believe him?” Catfish asked.

“He's too scared to lie. It looks like they were going to have the container stop first at East Wind, then take the white powder to Sunny Glory for distribution. That must be why they had security set up there.”

Silence followed Flat Nose's analysis.

Finally, Catfish said, “It doesn't really change anything except now we can hit Ah Ming at the same time. How soon can you get there?”

“Fifteen minutes. We're on our way.”

“Then do what you need to do. General Kew is here waiting.”

J
ust after 2:50, Gage listened in as Felix radioed to Casey that Ah Ming was in his office and that the GPS monitor now showed the container was about ten minutes away from East Wind.

Casey confirmed with the two other surveillance teams posted around East Wind that they'd heard the update.

Felix handed the radio to Buddy who read to Casey from his log.

14:03   Asian female arrived. Left at 14:11.

14:16   Two white males in suits arrived. Left at 14:27.

14:32   UPS truck arrived and dollied boxes inside.

14:35   Black female entered.

14:36   UPS driver exited.

14:37   Delivery truck pulled away from the loading dock.

14:40   UPS truck returned and dropped off another package.

14:33   UPS driver exited again.

14:46   Asian male in overalls sweeping the sidewalk in front.

F
ROM INSIDE A VAN
parked a few blocks from East Wind, Casey monitored the communications between the undercover driver of the container truck and the communications officer in the staging area.

The driver had noticed no one following him, and video from the drone showed no one.

The radio chatter that had previously been mere background noise now came in clearly, the voices crisp, distinct, and urgent.

Only two voices spoke: the driver and Casey as Control.

“Control, I'm just turning off Bay Shore.”

“Control check.”

“I can see East Wind.”

“Control check.”

F
ROM HIS PERCH,
Gage watched the Golden Mountain truck pull into the East Wind loading area, then back up. A warehouse worker jumped down to the pavement and guided the driver until the rear of the truck bed came to rest against the tire-tread-covered edge of the dock.

For the first time Gage imagined himself standing outside an interrogation room in the federal building looking through a two-way mirror as a handcuffed Ah Ming was interrogated by Joe Casey.

I
NSIDE,
L
UCY PRETENDED
to give Sylvia a tour of the warehouse. They paused and watched the driver lower himself from the cab and climb the outside stairs to the dock level. Lucy left Sylvia and walked up to him, asking for the shipping documents. He passed them to her attached to a battered aluminum clipboard, then she turned and walked back to where Sylvia was waiting.

The driver lowered himself from the dock and began to unhitch the trailer.

Sylvia walked Lucy toward Ah Ming's corner office.

The aluminum clipboard turned leaden in Lucy's hands. For a moment she feared sweat would stain the delivery receipt. And not because she was nervous about the mechanics. She'd done fine at Sunny Glory and at InterOcean. No, the problem was that Ah Ming was the man responsible for her brother's death. Ah Ming was evil, and for the first time she was about to hear the voice of evil himself.

“Easy,” Sylvia said. “Remember who you are. You're a clerk. That's all.” She pointed at a spot along the warehouse wall ten feet from Ah Ming's office door. “I'll be right there.”

“I can do this,” Lucy whispered. “I know I can do this.”

G
AGE,
F
ELIX, AND
B
UDDY WATCHED
two cars pull to a stop outside East Wind. Six men jumped out and strode through the front door. The drivers remained outside.

“Who the devil are they?” Felix asked, grabbing his radio. “Casey, six Asian guys just marched into East Wind. Real businesslike. Can't tell what they're here for, but they have gangster written all over them. Maybe to pick up the dope. Over.”

“Then we're going in. No reason to take any chances and maybe we'll grab more of the gang. Alpha Team?”

“Copy.”

“Bravo.”

“Copy.”

“Charlie.”

“Copy.”

“Let's roll.”

L
UCY KNOCKED ON
A
H
M
ING'S DOOR
. In the weeks she'd worked at East Wind, she'd never even seen the inside of his office, never had been closer than fifty feet of him.

“Yes,” Ah Ming said.

She walked inside. Like his dark suit, dark tie, and white shirt, the office was stark, nearly bare. A desk and two chairs. A phone. A fax. She saw his face in profile. He was leaning back in his seat, staring at a blank wall. He waved her to come forward without looking at her.

“Mr. Kung told me to give the shipping documents to you. A container just arrived.”

“Just leave them on my desk.”

Lucy laid them down but held the clipboard in her hands.

“The driver needs a signature on the receipt.”

Lucy reached out with the clipboard. He sat up, turned his chair toward the desk, and took it from her hand.

She felt herself flush.

Ah Ming signed the receipt, tore off a copy, then held out the clipboard.

Lucy took it back. It felt weightless in her hands as she turned away.

Gotcha
, she said to herself.

She walked back into the warehouse.

Gotcha, gotcha, gotcha.

A
S
S
YLVIA STEPPED FORWARD
to intercept Lucy on her way to return the receipt to the undercover driver, she noticed six Asian men striding toward Ah Ming's office. She'd spent enough time on the street to recognize the walk. She grabbed Lucy's arm and pulled her close, taking her under control, forcing her to march toward the exit.

“Let's go.”

“What about the receipt? I have to take it to the driver.”

“Let me have it. Let's go. Don't look back.”

“Where's my personnel file?”

“I've got it. Go, go, go. We've gotta get out of here.”

But Sylvia wasn't sure they were going to make it.

A
S
A
H
M
ING LIFTED HIS DESK PHONE TO MAKE A CALL
, he noticed the shipping papers Lucy had left on his desk. He reached to slip them into the tray at the corner. The words “InterOcean” and “Sunny Glory” glared out at him from the bill of lading. He dropped the phone back into its cradle. His heart raced. His throat closed.

The container was from InterOcean, from Sunny Glory.

Who did this?

Someone is forcing it into my hands.

Chau? Did Chau get caught and turn snitch?

Ah Ming's thoughts jumped from face to face and place to place.

Who is it? Lew? Clarence?

It made no difference.

Whoever did this knows everything.

Everything.

Ah Ming reached into his middle desk drawer, pulled out a 9mm pistol, and rose to his feet.

His doorjamb exploded as one of Flat Nose's men kicked it open.

Ah Ming fired once. A shot to the chest. The man dropped in the doorway.

Running footsteps told Ah Ming there were others.

“C
ONTROL.
S
HOTS FIRED.
S
HOTS FIRED
.”

“Control check.”

Gage forced himself to remain where he stood. He needed to hear what Casey was going to do and how he would do it, and then decide what he could do. The fear behind that thought was that with his slowed reflexes and fatigue he was more likely to endanger Sylvia and Lucy than protect them.

Buddy pushed himself to his feet to get a better view. “Somebody's trying to grab the load.”

Felix put his radio to his lips.

“Casey.”

“Check.”

“It's a rip-off. It's gotta be those guys.”

“Give me descriptions.”

“We couldn't see them that well. Leather jackets. Dark pants. Generic gangster wear. That's all. Sorry.”

A
H
M
ING EDGED HIS WAY
along the wall toward his office door, then yanked the wounded gangster to his feet. Using the gasping, staggering man as a shield, Ah Ming pushed him out into the warehouse, then he backed through a heavy metal door leading to the employee parking lot. When the door swung shut, Ah Ming dropped the man in front of it.

A human doorstop.

F
ROM THE OFFICE WINDOW
, Gage spotted Casey's teams racing toward the entrance and the loading area.

The two cars parked in front that had been waiting for the gangsters' return fled in opposite directions and the two other FBI SUVs broke off to chase them.

His cell phone rang. It was Sylvia.

“I've got Lucy. It's chaos in here.”

“Casey's on his way in. No more than ten seconds. Just stay down until it's over.”

Gage saw Ah Ming running down the steps into the parking lot and realized that Casey had no one left to cover the rear. Chasing Ah Ming would be a job for another day. For now, Casey's job was to save lives, capture the gangsters, and seize the heroin.

But Gage knew he had a promise to keep.

He started for the hallway.

F
LAT
N
OSE RAN AT THE CLOSED REAR WAREHOUSE DOOR
, then bounced off, swearing. He put his shoulder into it, slowly pushing the dying man aside, off the landing, and down onto the pavement eight feet below.

A
H
M
ING GLANCED BACK
and saw Flat Nose emerging from the warehouse, eyes darting. He realized Flat Nose would have a clear shot if he got into his car, so he decided to run for it. He fired once at Flat Nose, who jumped off the landing and squeezed in next to the steps and fired back.

Ah Ming slid behind his Mercedes, fired, ducked behind another car, and fired again, finally running south through the back gate of the parking lot into the alley.

G
AGE RAN TOWARD THE STAIRWELL
. Dizziness overcame adrenaline as he reached the top step. He grabbed the handrail to steady himself, clenching his teeth to fight off a wave of nausea, then breathing deep to force oxygen into his bloodstream and clear his head. He started down, hand over hand on the railing, uncertain whether the dizziness would return, and uncertain whether his misfiring nerves would send him tumbling.

And they did. He missed the last step. Stumbling, then falling, his shoulder taking the hit, snapping the side of his head into concrete. He dropped to his knees, then forward onto his hands, his chest thudding and his mind whirling. He closed his eyes and slowed his breathing. It felt as though his heart was battling his lungs.

Gage reached for the banister. Up on one foot, then the other. Straightening up. Dizzy for a moment. The thought of Ah Ming fleeing turned him toward the door. He pushed through it and out onto the sidewalk.

An image of the grid of streets and alleys came to Gage and
with it the knowledge Ah Ming couldn't run down the long east-west routes without risking he'd get shot in the back. He had no choice but to cut through buildings and work his way through the blocks.

South was Ah Ming's only way out. Gage's only move was to head west to the first corner and then parallel Ah Ming's flight.

Gage turned too fast and stumbled. He caught his balance on a light pole, then started again, feeling as though he was dragging his legs behind him. He swung his arms trying to pull himself along and find a rhythm.

Two gunshots echoed, confirming to Gage he was heading in the right direction.

Gage crossed the street, then moved along the side of a two-story warehouse filling the block. He stopped at the next corner and peeked around, hoping to catch sight of Ah Ming crossing the alley. He saw workers crouched down behind cars and trucks, but couldn't spot Ah Ming.

He fumbled trying to pull his gun out of its holster; his hands were weak and his fingers stiff. The two-pound semiautomatic felt like a twelve-pound chunk of metal.

Gage spotted a heavy Asian with a wide flat face emerge from a back door, his gun hand tracking, his eyes scanning. Several workers saw him and pressed themselves hard onto the pavement as Gage stepped around the corner and dropped down behind a car. One of the workers waved at him, assuming he was a cop, and pointed toward a low office building across the alley.

Gage had guessed right. Ah Ming was cutting through the blocks. The problem was how to keep up.

The gunman scoured the street for Ah Ming. When he turned away to the east, Gage ran across the intersection, hoping to reach the next alley before Ah Ming did. He ran to the next corner, then edged his way around and spotted Ah Ming run
ning from the back of a building halfway down the block. The gunman wasn't yet in sight.

Gage lifted the gun in his right hand, trying to hold it high next to his shoulder, but his arm was weak and his hand shook. He swung his left hand up and wrapped it around his right, then slipped around the corner, sliding along a wall until he was able to take cover behind a panel van.

Ah Ming started walking west toward Gage, glancing back every few steps, stopping to turn door handles, trying to find an unlocked one to get him through to the next block. In less than thirty seconds he was only twenty yards east of Gage.

Gage waited until Ah Ming turned back to look for the gunman, then took a half step outside of the protection of the van and aimed his barrel at Ah Ming's back.

“Drop the gun.”

Ah Ming spun and fired as he ducked behind a car. The bullet grazed the side of the van and cut a path through the windshield of a parked car.

Gage ducked back.

“Give it up, Ah Ming. The FBI has your container. It's over.”

Gage glanced around the edge of the van and down the alley. He saw the gunman peek from behind a pickup truck about twenty-five yards beyond Ah Ming and then begin to inch forward.

“Somebody's coming up behind you. Make a choice. Me or him.”

“Who the fuck are you?”

“That's not important. What's important is that I'm not here to kill you. But that guy behind you sure is. I just came for you and the heroin, and I already have the heroin.”