Red Ice (13 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY
 

San Francisco, California

10:35pm

William Hong’s home wasn’t located in Chinatown, but in Presidio Heights, one of the city’s more affluent neighborhoods. A brick Tudor sat behind the garage, nestled between two other homes that reflected two completely different schools of architectural design. The house was quiet and dark when Rhee, Muhn, and Lieutenant Kim Won-shik walked up to it.

The long set of stairs led up to a door set back in an alcove. As they climbed the stairs, Rhee could feel he was under observation, a sense that was confirmed when he spotted the security camera under the alcove’s overhang. Now that knew what to look for, he spotted two more cameras, one covering the street, the other on the front of the house.

As soon as Rhee stepped into the alcove, the front door opened. “Inside,” a rough voice commanded.

Rhee crossed the threshold, senses alert for trouble. Kim went left, while Muhn leaned heavily on the door, his hand close to his pistol. As Rhee’s eyes adjusted to the low light level, he saw someone step out of the shadows.

“You’re right on time, Major,” Meng-hau Cheng said. He held his hands up to show they were empty.

“Is Hong here?”

“I will take you to him.” Cheng lead them down the hall, Rhee feeling more than seeing the two 49s that fell into step behind him and his men. At the end of the short hallway was a featureless door. Cheng knocked on it twice, waited, then knocked twice more before opening it. “Three seekers from the north to see the Dragon Lord.”

A voice from inside the room replied with, “Enter, seekers from the north.”

The Koreans stepped inside, followed by Cheng and the 49s. The study was opulent, richly decorated in a Chinese motif. Rhee glanced around quickly, dismissing the opulence as nothing more than a sign of Hong’s decadence. Instead, he focused his attention on the room’s occupants.

Hong sat behind the sizable desk, anger clouding his face. Cho Lee and Kuang Lieh sat in chairs fronting the desk, and both had to turn to see Rhee and Kim. Their expressions matched that of their boss. Rhee couldn’t see Cheng’s face, but he felt the Red Pole’s glare on his back.

Cheng closed the doors and stood before them, his expression less readable than the others. Rhee glanced back at Hong. “You wanted to see me?”

“What in the hell were you thinking?” Hong’s eyes were dark and narrow. “Assassinating the mayor? Are you insane?”

“I needed to show that their success in capturing the warehouse was a fluke.” Rhee shrugged. “I don’t see why you’re complaining since none of your men are involved.”

“That’s not the point!” Lieh snapped. “There have already been calls for a crackdown on the Triads in the city! That President of the Board of Supervisors is already demanding a police task force to combat the ‘crime wave’!”

Rhee kept his expression neutral, but inside he was satisfied. Kwan was following his instructions. “What is the mayor’s condition now?”

“Medically-induced coma,” Lee replied. “Her spine was shattered and one of her lungs collapsed. She’s in ICU at Saint Francis in critical but stable condition.”

“That might be as good as killing her.”

“You can’t assassinate a major public official without consequences!” Lieh shot back. “The police have already picked up a dozen of our men unrelated to the warehouse. What do you think is going to happen now?”

“There is no evidence that the Black Dao is involved the assassination attempt.”

“It doesn’t matter. The police will see all of us guilty! We will never be able to go back to business as usual.”

Rhee put a hand up. “Enough. The police will have enough trouble in the next couple of days. The first batches of Red Ice have been produced by the new lab.”

The three Triad leaders around the desk looked surprised. “That was quick,” Lee said after a few seconds of silence.

“My people are motivated. I also suggested that the first samples be free, to encourage the market.”

Another round of surprised expressions lit up around the desk. Hong was the first to recover. “How long will it take to complete the current batch for distribution?”

“Three or four days. By this time next week, Red Ice will be on the street and nothing will stop it from sweeping across the country.”

He let the words sink in for a few minutes. “In the meantime, I need your help in another matter.” He drew several photos from an inside jacket pocket and walked over to the desk.

“I have managed to identify members of the American mercenary team that interfered with the ambush on the pier.” He dropped the prints onto the table. “There are at least five of them — four men and one woman.” He put a finger on one photo, pinpointing two women and a man. “The white woman is a DEA agent, but the black woman and the man are not. They were the ones who visited the drug dealer’s place. The three men in the other photo were at the pier and chased my people. The third photo is this John Casey and a female aide of some sort.”

Hong scrutinized the photo briefly before asking, “What do you want from us?”

“I want your contacts in the city to find out where they are operating from. Once you find out, my men will take care of them — for good.” Rhee’s eyes glittered and he smiled. “Five thousand dollars to whoever furnishes the information.”

Hong picked up the photos. “You will pay the reward?”

“Of course. In cash.”

“I will put the word out.”

“I want to leave Lieutenant Kim here to act as my liaison in this matter.”

Lieh scowled. “Liaison or watchdog?”

“I have other matters to attend to, so I will not be available for the next couple of days. Lieutenant Kim has my full confidence, and his orders will not conflict with your operations.”

Hong nodded slowly. “Very well, we will allow him to stay with us as your liaison until this threat you’ve perceived has been eliminated.”

“Good.” He stared at the three. “You see danger. I see opportunity. We are on the verge of a major event here, gentlemen, one that will bring you millions. Do not let fear override your vision. The Americans have no inkling of what’s about to hit them. By the time they do, it will be too late.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
 

San Francisco, California

11:53pm

The brothel was located on the edge of the city’s Cow Hollow district. It was a three-story brick colonial on a corner, listed as the Sons of The Western Gentlemen’s Social Club. Dues were five thousand dollars a month and prospective members were vetted more thoroughly than a CIA job applicant. Danielle’s research indicated there were between fifteen and twenty prostitutes in the building at any given time, mostly Asian and other illegals forced into the life. The number of powerful people who were members stymied any investigation before it could start. It was one of the Triad’s biggest money makers, raking in millions of dollars per month. The establishment sat there, confident no one would dare challenge its right to debase women for profit.

That would change tonight.

The dark sky was cool and cloudy and the neighborhood was quiet, most residents turned in for the night. Street lights were the main source of illumination, but Tanner could see that the club itself was well-lit around the outside. Heavy curtains hid the interior lights. According to Danielle, the club was heavily soundproofed to avoid complaints from neighbors.

“Able Team in position,” Tanner radioed. Both he and Liam were half a block west of the club, dressed in designer suits and overcoats, with balaclavas hidden beneath their hats. Standing on a slope, the pair of operators could see the lights of downtown San Francisco twinkling in the distance.

“Bravo Team in position.” Stephen and Dante were a couple of houses east of the club, halfway up a steep hill. Unlike Able Team, Bravo was dressed in black jumpsuits under heavy overcoats, balaclavas pulled up on their heads to reveal their faces.

“Charlie Team set.” Naomi, Vessler, and Choi occupied a cargo truck parked in a lot next to a chapel down the street from the club. Choi drove while Vessler and Naomi sat up front next to him. All three wore black jumpsuits, balaclavas on their heads.

“Base is set. Snow-out is set to go.” Danielle was back at the hotel, monitoring communications and preparing to execute remote operations.

Liam and Tanner started walking toward the club. On the way, Tanner pulled out a pint of liquor chosen for its strong smell, took a swig, rinsed his mouth, then spat out the liquid before deliberately spilling some on his overcoat. He handed the now half-filled bottle to Liam who did the same, then pocketed the now-empty bottle. They walked with a slight weave in their step as if they were drunk.

When they reached the intersection, the pair swayed as they looked at the building, picking out the security cameras they had spotted on recon drivebys earlier in the evening. Approaching the site without being seen by one of the cameras would have been impossible, which is why the team had chosen this disguised approach.

“Able to Bravo,” Tanner subvocalized, “this is Prime. Execute Snow-out.”

“Executing now.”

Part of the plan involved neutralizing the brothel’s security system and phones, both land lines and cellular. Danielle had hacked into the brothel’s wireless computer network and uploaded a virus that would delete the security programs, any recorded video, and the building’s telephone system.

“Snow-out is running,” Danielle reported. “Total network failure in ten seconds.”

Tanner and Liam started across the street, stumbling. They reached the sidewalk and headed for the front door. At the same moment, Stephen, carrying a briefcase-sized cell phone jammer, and Dante, walking quickly from the opposite direction, reached an iron gate leading into the house’s grounds.

Danielle’s voice issued over the comm channels. “Snow-out is active. All security cameras, building alarms and phone lines are off-line.”

Tanner reached the front door. “Prime to all elements: Execute.”

Dante stuck a thumbnail-sized piece of C4 into the gate lock, stepped back a couple of paces and triggered the charge. With a “pop”, the lock was destroyed and the gate sprung open. While Bravo went through the gate, Tanner hammered on the front door and started swaying as if inebriated. He waited a few seconds, then hammered on the door again, as hard as he could. Next to him, Liam also acted drunk, but one hand was in his overcoat pocket, clutching a stun gun.

The door opened and a hard-looking Asian with a weightlifter’s build glared at them. “What?”

“Hey, is Bulldog here?” Tanner asked, slurring his voice.

“No.” The doorman moved to shut the door.

Tanner stuck his foot in the doorway, putting his weight on the foot to keep the door open. “But he said he was going to meet us here! He said … There was a new girl who was so flexible!”

The doorman glared at him. “This is a member’s club, sir. You are not a member.”

“Yes I am!” Tanner yelled.” He began patting his pockets as if to look for something. “I have my member’s card right here!”

With all his attention focused on Tanner, the doorman never saw Liam take the stun gun from his coat pocket. With a quick thrust, Liam jabbed the doorman just under his ribs with the device and triggered it. Two million volts surged through the doorman’s body and he started convulsing. Waiting for a count of three, Tanner then slammed his shoulder into the door, sending the doorman reeling into the hallway. The two men surged through the door. Liam pocketed the stun gun and yanked down his balaclava with one hand. With his other, he reached under his overcoat and extracted a Ruger MP-9 submachine gun that hung under the coat by a shoulder strap. Tanner kicked the still stunned doorman in the groin while pulling out his own MP-9 and pulling his balaclava into place. The pair swept the compact submachine guns through the hallway, alert for immediate threats.

An Asian on the stairs to Tanner’s right shouted something in Chinese and reached for a pistol on his belt. Tanner fired first and the guard shuddered as several 9mm bullets ripped through his torso. He stumbled, then fell down the stairs, landing in a heap at the base of the stairs.

To Tanner’s left the hall opened onto a large room with chairs, couches, a few tables, and half a dozen people. Three were men, well-dressed and clearly customers, while the other three were women, two blondes and a brunette. One of the blondes was middle-aged and once a looker, but life and drink had robbed her of most of it. Wearing a conservative dress, she glared at the intruders. “Who in the hell are you two?”

“We be here to deliver a message,” Tanner said in an Irish brogue.

“You have no idea who you’re fucking with.”

“On the contrary, madam. We be knowing who we’re fucking with. We be fucking with Billy Hong and the Black Dao Triad.”

Tanner saw the madam’s eyes narrow. “You’d better run, you dumb bastards.”

“Not yet. First a little work to show how serious we are.”

Overhead a balcony ran the width of the house. Men and women gathered there, drawn by the sound of gunshots. Most were naked or nearly so, and they all paled at the sight of the masked men.

Tanner called up to them, gun barrel held in the air. “Ladies and gentlemen. Get down here now. If we have to come up and get you, you will not like the results.”

#

At the same time Tanner was banging on the door upstairs, Bravo team was making their entrance into the Sons of The Western Gentlemen’s Social Club.

It took Dante only ten seconds to use a lockpick gun to unlock the lower door. They pulled down their balaclavas and went through the open door, MP-9s up and pointing down the short hall. According to the floor plans Danielle had supplied, the bottom floor was the kitchen and storage, although there were a couple of rooms next to the boiler that weren’t marked and needed to be investigated.

The kitchen was large with a dozen cooks, servers, and food preparers, all male. Shouts and conversation in Chinese echoed throughout the room, backed by the strains of a singer butchering a song in Chinese. The smell of cooked food was thick and rich.

A single guard watching the kitchen perched on a stool in one corner. He stared at the two masked men for too long, too slow to react. His pistol had just cleared his holster before a double burst of 9mm rounds sent him flying back into the wall. The gunfire cut through the conversation like a knife, and every man turned to look at the intruders. One moved his hand toward a knife, but when Dante pointed his MP-9 at him, the man yanked his hand back, his glare doing what he wished to do with the blade.

“Bravo to Able,” Dante said into his radio. “Kitchen secured. One Tango down.”

“Copy,” Tanner replied. “Charlie Team, move in.”

“Copy Prime,” Naomi said. “Charlie is moving. ETA twenty seconds.”

Stephen placed the jammer on a counter, then pulled out a digital recorder, held it up and pushed a button. None of the team spoke Chinese, so there was a need to communicate with those illegals who couldn’t speak English. Vessler had a friend who spoke both fluent Mandarin and Cantonese Chinese, so he had recorded messages in both dialects for the team’s use. While the team couldn’t understand what was being said, they knew what the messages were; an appeal for those Chinese who were working as slaves to leave with the team and escape the Triad’s clutches. As they surveyed the crowd, both Stephen and Dante noticed some of the servers and a couple of the cooks perk up with interest. Many of the other kitchen staff, mostly older men, looked at the masked intruders with fear, but a couple of the others’ expressions were undisguised hate.

After the messages finished, one of the servers stepped forward, hands up. “You are here to help us?”

“You can speak English?” Stephen said.

“Yes, I took English in school in China.”

“What is your name?”

“I am Ko Chan.”

“How many of you are here are being held against your will by the Triad?”

Chan looked back at the group. “Most of us,” he said. He pointed at some of the staff. “They not held against their will.”

Stephen motioned to the dead guard near the wall. “Any more guards down here?”

“He is the only one down here all the time. There are three others upstairs.”

“All right, tell your friends who want to leave to stand over there.” Stephen flicked his MP-9 to the right.

Ko turned and began speaking rapidly in Chinese. As he did so, Naomi said over the radio, “Charlie to Bravo. We’re at the gate. Moving to the back door.”

“Copy.” Dante stepped back so he could see the open back door. In a few seconds Naomi appeared in the doorway, waving. Dante waved back.

Ko turned around. “They are ready.”

“One last thing I need you and your friends to do,” Stephen said.

“What?”

Stephen took out a pack of riot cuffs and tossed them to Ko. “I want you to restrain those people who don’t want to come along. We’ll make sure they cooperate.” He hefted his gun.

Ko nodded eagerly, then turned and spoke to the others. In less than two minutes, the remaining kitchen staff were bound by their wrists and ankles, then secured to table legs or other immovable objects with more riot cuffs. A couple of them resisted, but a few blows from Ko’s comrades ended resistance quickly. Ko looked at Stephen. “Are you here for the girls, too?”

“Yes. We have people upstairs handling that.”

“What about those in the punishment cells?”

“What punishment calls?”

“There are cells down here.” Ko pointed down another hall. “They use them for new girls or to punish girls who defy them. No food, little water.”

“Are there girls in the cells now?”

Ko nodded. “Two, maybe three.”

“Bravo to Able,” Dante subvocalized. “We have a complication. One of the staff speaks English and he’s telling us there are girls being held in cells down here.”

“Get them all out,” Tanner replied. “Then get you asses up here, ASAP.”

“Copy.”

Stephen said to Ko, “Tell your friends to go out the back door. One of my team is there. A truck is waiting at the gate. Get in it and wait.”

“Yes.” Ko spoke rapidly to the others and in a matter of seconds, the kitchen was a lot less crowded. Ko was the only one of the freed illegals remaining. “I will help you get the girls from the cells.”

“Okay,” Dante said. “Stay behind us.” Then he subvocalized into his radio. “Three, I need to guard the kitchen and the hall.”

“Copy.” Naomi appeared a few seconds later. “Go.”

Dante and Stephen moved down the hall, which was fifteen feet long, dark, and had a cold, damp feeling to it. At the far end were two jail cell doors facing each other, cold gray steel solid doors with a pair of covered slots, one at eye level, the other at waist level. A set of keys hung on a wall hook a few feet from the door on the right. Stephen snatched the keys from the hook as they went by.

They started with the door on the right. It took Stephen a couple of times to find the right key, one of six on the ring. The lock went
thunk
and the door opened. Dante went in first while Stephen covered him from the doorway. The cell was small, the size of a walk-in closet. Two women lay on rickety cots, dressed in crude smocks that were little more than thin rags. The smell of sweat, human waste and dampness was strong and unpleasant. Chains bound the girls’ ankles. Both women were cringing, babbling in Chinese, and shielding their faces from the newcomers they thought were their captors.

“Ko,” Date said. “Get in here.”

It took three minutes of Ko talking to them to make them realize they were being rescued. In the meantime, Stephen used the keys to unlock the cuffs and help the girls to their feet. Neither was very steady, forcing Ko and Stephen to assist them. While they helped the two girls down the hall, Date unlocked the other jail cell. A third girl lay face down on a cot, chained to the wall and wearing a smock like the others. She didn’t move when Dante entered. He reached down and felt for a pulse. He found a weak, but steady one. When he lifted her arm, it was limp. “Bravo to Charlie. Send Eight in. I have an unconscious woman here.”

Choi’s reply was immediate. “On my way.”

By the time the DEA agent appeared at the cell door, Dante had unlocked her shackles and turned her over. He turned on his flashlight and hissed when he saw the victim’s battered face.