FULL
MOON & CHINA WHITE
By AJB
PROLOGUE
“Samantha.”
She
paused in the doorway of the bullpen and turned, absently pushing her hair
behind her ear as she did so. “Yeah?”
“Want
to go out for a drink? Or are you too tired?”
Martin
stood at his desk, folders in hand and looking bit disheveled – his tie was
loose and the top button of his shirt was undone. She couldn’t help but smile
– he looked like she felt. They were the last to leave for the night after
finally finishing overdue paperwork.
A
drink sounded great. “Yeah,” she said with a tilt of her head. “It would
be nice to know there’s real world out there, huh?”
His
grin ignited a little life in his eyes. “And normal people,” he added.
“Hang on a sec.” Martin dropped the files on his desk with a sound plop and
grabbed his jacket all in one movement. “Let’s boogie!”
Samantha
laughed as he threw the jacked over one shoulder and began tugging on his tie.
“‘Let’s boogie’?” she echoed in barely suppressed giggles.
With
his tie sufficiently loosened, Martin took her elbow and guided her out of the
doorway and down the hall. “Well, it’s better than ‘Let’s make like a
tree and leaf this joint.’ “
“Oooh,”
she groaned, wrinkling her nose. “Yeah, that is worse.”
With
the mood considerably lightened the pair threw puns back and forth all the way
to the elevator. Tension from their awful day drained away as they approached
the parking garage. When they stepped from the elevator, Martin indicated his
car with his chin. “Come on, I’ll drive. It’s not that far and you know
parking’s going be non-existent on a Friday night. ”
“Good
point,” Samantha conceded. “Okay then, let’s go.”
He
opened the passenger door for her and she slid inside. “Hello weekend!” she
sighed happily. Martin laughed and jogged to the driver side. After pulling his
door open, he threw his jacket in the back seat and dropped in behind the wheel.
“Where to?” he asked as he started the car. “Wait, there’s one caveat .
. .”
Samantha
raised her eyebrows in question.
“It
has to be a place where I don’t have to wear this,” he said as he pulled off
the offending tie and tossed in over his shoulder. It fluttered unceremoniously
atop the discarded jacket as he unbuttoned his sleeves and rolled up the cuffs.
“Well,
aren’t we wild tonight,” she joked. Samantha felt her weariness fade away
with Martin’s enthusiasm. “How about The Longshot?”
Martin
backed from the parking space and drove from the structure. “Sounds good. I
gotta make one stop first. That all right?”
“No
problem. That means you get the first round.”
Martin’s
amused snort lifted her spirits even more. She hadn’t seen him in this kind of
mood before and she liked it; there was tingle in her heart as she wondered what
it would be like to get together with him; Danny teased her enough about it, so
why not? He certainly was easy on the eyes . . .
They
went a few blocks before Martin made a few quick turns and stopped at a corner
market. She leaned forward and looked in the front windows. “This place is
still open?”
“Yeah,
he’ll close in a few minutes. I’ll be right back. Don’t worry if the
lights go out . . .” he glanced at his watch. “. . . in about 3 minutes.
They’re on a timer. The front door will automatically lock, too, but I’ll be
right back.”
“Okay.
Leave the keys so I can listen to the radio.”
Martin
jumped out of the car and jogged to the glass front doors. He turned and threw
Samantha a grin as he pushed the doors open and stepped inside the empty store.
She saw him pause a moment to look around before heading toward the back of the
store. Taking a deep, relaxing sigh and settling deeper into the soft leather
seat, Samantha hummed along with the radio.
And then he vanished.
CHAPTER
ONE: 2 Hours Missing
Samantha
paced the sidewalk in front of the store, her thumb hitched on the waist of her
pants and her fingers drumming impatiently on her hip. Her other hand gripped
her cell phone.
Martin’s
car still sat where he’d parked it, but now it was flanked by NYPD black and
whites and corralled in the tiny parking lot with yellow police barrier tape.
When she saw Jack’s dark sedan jerk to a stop at the curb, her shoulders
sagged with relief. Now they would get somewhere; she turned to meet her boss.
“Samantha,”
Jack started as he strode toward her. “What happened?”
She
swept her arm at the front door. “He walked in there and now he’s gone. I
couldn’t get inside – the doors were locked . . .”
“Who
locked them?”
“They
were on automatic timers. Martin told me . . .” she dropped her eyes and
pushed her gaze aside, trying to get her thoughts in some sort of order.
“Start
over, Sam,” Jack said calmly as he gripped her shoulders. “What were you
doing here?”
“Martin
and I were going out for drinks. He said we should ride together because parking
would be bad but he had to make a stop first.”
“What
for?”
“He
never said. We parked here,” she pointed at the car, “and he told me the
lights would go out and the doors would lock automatically in 3 minutes – so
it must have been
She
took a breath and turned from Jack’s hands, walking to the glass doors of the
store. “When he didn’t come out in fifteen minutes, I got out and tried to
see inside. It was dark so I walked around to the alley in the back. That door
was locked, too. I noticed that the alley light was broken; there’s glass on
the ground under it. I yelled and pounded on the door, but when no one answered
I called the police, thinking that they would have a key to get in or at least
have an emergency contact for the business.” She could feel her heart start to
race as she recalled her alarm at the time. She bit her lip to get back on
track. “Um . . . after nearly an hour, police dispatch got a hold of the
building owner and when he finally got here I went in with the police. The place
is empty, Jack. No one’s there. There are signs of a struggle in the back . .
.”
“Show
me.”
Samantha
slowly felt her collection return as she led Jack into the store and through the
scene. By the time they reached the back storeroom, her mind was ticking again.
She ignored the little voice telling her that her work mindset was only pushing
aside her fear.
“When
I saw these boxes on the floor I looked closer and saw what looks like blood.
That’s when I got everyone out and secured the scene and called you. I . . . I
think Martin and the store owner were taken out by the back door. I was out
front the whole time.”
“Jack?”
Vivian’s voice carried easily from the front doors.
“Back
here!”
The
cool calm of the experienced agent was like a balm to Samantha; she knew Jack
too well, and as a result, could read the tenseness he was trying not to show.
Samantha could see a shadow of concern in Vivian’s eyes that belied the
matter-of-fact tone to her voice.
“Any
witnesses?”
Jack
stood straighter. “We haven’t canvassed the area yet. Danny should be here .
. .”
“Now.”
Agent
“Yeah,”
Jack replied, “Sam and I will collect the evidence here and question the land
lord. Vivian, go with Danny.”
The
four of them split up, their concern palatable. Before he left, Danny’s hand
rested sympathetically for a moment on Samantha’s shoulder. She gave him a
weak smile as he left.
“Sam.”
Jack’s voice captured he full attention and as she faced him, she tried to
keep the panic from her eyes. “Think. What else did you see? Any other cars?
Pedestrians? Noises?”
Samantha’s
forehead furrowed in thought. “I had the radio on kinda loud. I saw Martin
open the door and stop for a moment just inside. He looked around, and then
started to the back. He pulled something from his back pocket . . .”
“His
wallet?” Jack asked.
“No,”
Samantha said with authority. “No, he carries his wallet in his left back
pocket. He took something from his right pocket . . .” She frowned. “It was
white. A paper?”
Jack
shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe we’ll figure it out. That the land lord?”
He pointed to a rotund man arguing with a uniformed officer just outside the
storeroom. When she nodded, they approached and motioned the uniform away.
Jack
showed his identification. “Who’s on the lease?”
It
was hot; too hot to breathe. Martin gasped in an effort to fill his lungs and
was rewarded with a calliope of spinning starts and piercing pain in his skull.
Quickly he clamped his mouth shut, grinding his teeth until the agony receded a
little. Next, he opened his eyes a crack and saw only gauzy darkness. He jerked
his hand to reach for his head, but found that his arms were pulled behind his
back and wouldn’t move. Puzzling over that for several confused moments as his
senses cleared, Martin realized that he was partially sitting up and slumped to
one side, making breathing difficult. When he tried to push himself upright with
his shoulder, pain zinged again and took what little breath he had away as a
groan.
Then
he realized that there was something over his head making his breath hot against
his face – a bag? And his hands were tied behind him?
A
rush of panic was quickly squelched as he tried to think logically through the
distracting agony. Martin forced himself to relax and concentrate on his
breathing as he attempted to gather his scattered thoughts. When he tried to use
his feet to scoot back and closer to the wall, he realized his feet were tied,
too.
‘What
the hell?’ he thought muzzily.
“I
have your gun, Agent Fitzgerald, so don’t bother looking.” A man’s voice
with some kind of accent.
Martin
made the mistake of trying to shake his head; was difficult to think. He knew he
must have a concussion. “They’re looking for me, you know,” he said, his
voice sounding thick and slurred to his ears.
The
man laughed lowly. “I know.”
The
agent heard movement and then someone grabbed his forearm in a vice-like grip.
Even though his head felt as if it would explode with every movement, Martin
automatically tried to fight back. When he started to yell, he found his face
pressed painfully to the floor. There were at least two men holding him down and
Martin knew he was going to black out again. His stomach rolled.
His
felt a sting on his flesh; he jerked, and his face and chest were forced harder
to the floor in response. At the same moment he felt the growing warmth from
whatever they had injected him with, Martin realized he was in a moving vehicle.
Then
all his aches and pains faded away in a glorious rush, the previous nausea
vanishing as his body relaxed. Uncaring, Martin continued his ride to the
unknown.
CHAPTER
TWO: 4 hours missing
“The
business owner’s name is Alex Sun. He’s had the market there for ten years,
running it with is wife, who died six months ago.”
Samantha
tried to concentrate on Jack’s words, but her gaze kept straying to the
photograph of Martin stuck on the blank white board. It was the same photo that
was on his ID card.
Vivian’s
voice refocused her attention. “A woman that lives across the alley remembered
seeing a dark van parked behind the business. She only noticed it because no one
usually parks there – it’s a fire lane. She didn’t see it leave.”
“I’ve
check for Martin’s cell, but it must be turned off. The last call from it was
when he was here,” Danny added.
“Did
you find any surveillance cameras in the area?” Jack asked. “ATMs, banks,
parking lots?”
“There
are six ATM machines in a four block radius of the store. I have calls in to get
any video in the time frame.”
“You
okay?” Danny’s voice was soft in her ear. Samantha jerked slightly in
surprise, and felt her cheeks start to burn.
“Sam?”
Jack said.
Samantha
looked up to see the three members of her team looking at her.
“Can
you do this?” Jack asked in a brusque tone.
“Yes,
I’m fine,” Samantha snapped. “What about Sun? What’s his story?”
Jack
handed her a file. “You tell us,” he replied. “There’s what we have so
far.” He turned to the other two. “Get those videos.”
Mentally
chastising herself, Samantha returned to her desk with the file firmly in her
grasp. When she passed the whiteboard, she consciously kept her eyes forward and
her mind focused. Finally settling at her desk, she flipped the folder open and
started entering names into her computer.
She
was well aware that Jack was watching her from his office.
Mee
Liang was disgusted. He hated loose ends, and here was one splayed on the floor
at his feet. ‘Loose ends end up hanging you if one isn’t careful,’ he
thought. He looked again at the FBI flat badge in his hand. Liang didn’t like
it when his minions made their own decisions; it usually lead to a downfall. ‘Then
again, it’s a rich man that takes advantage of a downturn.’ He looked
again at the drugged man on the floor and considered.
“How
much did he see?” Liang asked, his voice deceptively soft.
The
two men returned from securing Sun to a sturdy chair. The lead man ducked his
head before responding to his boss. “We had Sun tied already. Jiu hit the
other as soon as he stepped in the storeroom. I don’t know what he saw, but he
never drew his gun so he was not alerted. I was going to leave him, but then I
found his identification and thought he might be valuable. He also had this.”
The man handed over a white paper.
Both
men kept their eyes averted and waited. Liang flipped the wallet closed and
tapped the leather against his palm as he regarded his underlings. Then he
accepted the paper. “You do not make decisions. I do. If our new guest becomes
a problem, you will pay also. Understand?”
“Yes.”
The worker kept his head bowed as he replied.
Liang
looked at Sun, now secured in the chair. The old man still had a black bag over
his head and was breathing hard, obviously terrified; he was uttering an ancient
prayer. ‘Sun is what I need to get Zhan.” Liang thought. “Maybe
this agent can help me later on.’ He nodded and turned again to the white
man on the floor. His minions had used the man’s own shirt to cover his head.
“How much did you give the agent?”
“Just
enough to keep him quiet. He’s not unconscious, but I do not think he can
communicate at the moment.”
Liang
smiled. “Take off the cloth. It sounds like our guest is enjoying himself too
much to be a problem.”
After
a quick bow, the two men knelt and worked to loosen the shirt around their
prisoner’s head. When it was finally pulled clear, Liang noted the dilated
pupils and unfocused gaze. He clucked his tongue and smiled approvingly. “Ah,
Special Agent Fitzgerald, welcome. I see you are enjoying my hospitality.”
Martin
only blinked unfocused eyes and halfheartedly tried to pull his hands free.
“Put
him in the holding room for now. He will be quiet for a while longer.”
The
two men grabbed the agent and dragged him away as Liang watched thoughtfully and
then unfolded the paper and read it. He smiled. ‘There is opportunity here.
Maybe this loose end could actually be the start of a fine bolt of cloth,’
he thought, his mood lightening. ‘But first, Mr. Sun.’
Tucking
the wallet and paper away, the slender Asian adjusted his jacket and moved to
stand in front of the subdued store owner.
Alex
Sun trembled in his bonds.
CHAPTER
THREE: 7 hours missing.
Samantha
let out an explosive sigh and arched backward in her chair. She took a moment
for the luxury of a stretch and ran her fingers through her hair with her eyes
closed. Tired people made mistakes, she knew.
A
delicious smell touched her nose and her eyes snapped open. Danny small grin did
little to hide his own weariness, but the coffee cup he plunked on her desk was
a step in the right direction. “Here. We both need it.” He sipped from his
own cup and nodded at the one in front of her.
“Thanks,”
she breathed, lifting the cup to her lips. It was a heavenly burn on her tongue.
“What
do you have so far?” Danny asked.
“Well,”
Samantha started. “Alex Sun has a short and clean history. Too short.” She
glanced in Jack’s direction and saw that he was coming toward her, so she
waited until he arrived to continue. By then Vivian had parked herself on the
neighboring desk. “It seems that Mr. Sun has had this name for twelve years.
His passport number, however, shows that he’s been in country longer than that
– over fifteen years. All sorts of things don’t match up. I’m waiting for
the information on his paperwork before that; Visas, green cards, other
passports. For the last twelve years he and his wife have been model
citizens.”
Danny
pitched in. “Phone records for the past eight months show numerous calls to
one particular set of numbers belonging to Full Moon Shipping. Before that,
there were none to those numbers. We didn’t find any reference to Full Moon
Shipping in the store records. It looks like the calls started about the time
Sun’s wife became ill and continued up until two weeks ago.”
Vivian’s
eyebrow rose skeptically. “Full Moon Shipping? Alex Sun? Coincidence?”
Jack
snorted. “No such thing. What do we know about Full Moon Shipping?”
“Not
much yet,” Danny stated. “I was just starting to dig in.”
“Keep
it up. Samantha, help him out if you’re done with Mr. Sun. Viv? What about
those ATM videos?”
She
grinned that cat-with-the-canary grin of hers and patted a folder in her hand.
“Well, the ATM’s turned out to be a bust, but I did find something on the
red light camera history.” She opened the folder. “You know that there are
cameras in two intersections nearby that are set up to photograph anyone running
the red lights. There were three detections in that timeframe, and I got the
photos.”
Samantha
craned her neck to see the photos. Two white cars and . . . “a black van.”
“Yup!
At 2110 hours, a black van rolled around a corner on a right turn and got
caught. There’s an excellent shot of the driver’s face and the license
plate. The vehicle is registered to the Crane Corporation.” She pulled out the
photos. “Both driver and passenger are Asian males.”
Samantha
blinked. “That’s interesting.”
“Why?”
“Remember
when I said I saw Martin pull a paper from his pocket? I figured the paper was
something he was going to give Alex Sun, so out of curiosity I checked
Martin’s computer search history.”
“And
. . ?” Vivian urged.
“Well,”
Samantha started. “He’d visited the site for Crane Corporation. The first
time was about two weeks ago. He ran several searches on the names listed,
including passport searches and driver’s records.”
“Sounds
like he was looking for someone,” Vivian concluded.
“You
two find out more about that Corporation and check Martin’s phone records,”
Jack ordered Vivian. “Danny and Sam, look into Full Moon Shipping.”
Invigorated
with the information, Samantha returned to her work. In her periphery, she saw
Jack add the information to the white board. Her jaw tightened in determination.
It
seemed like his world was enveloped in fleece.
Martin
managed to push himself into the corner of the small room and prop himself up,
but that was as far as he cared to go. He was aware of his surroundings and knew
it wasn’t a place he should be; he also knew that his hands were still tied
behind him. He just didn’t really care. In fact, he felt pretty good right
now.
He
could feel his heart beating and his breathing seemed unusually loud – the
combination fascinated him for awhile and he was content to just listen and
experience. Then his wrists started to sting a little, so he decided to make the
effort to bring his hands to the front. It seemed to take a lot longer than it
should, and he kept getting distracted by other sights and noises, but
eventually he was able to work his arms around his legs and maneuver his hands
to the front. The sight of his raw wrists was intriguing. He knew it should hurt
more than it actually did.
And
then he realized that the noises he’d been hearing off and on were of someone
being hit. He also heard heated voices, but the words didn’t make sense.
Martin’s euphoric feelings dipped and he started concentrating on getting his
hands free. After a frustrating few minutes without results, Martin managed to
push himself to his feet using the wall as a brace. His legs wobbled weakly, but
he stayed upright and made his way across the very small and dark room to the
sole door. It was ajar.
Looking
out through the slight opening he saw the profile of Sun tied in a chair. In the
stark light of a single bare bulb that dangled from the ceiling he saw that the
old man was crying. Blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth. His tormenter
stood in front of him, ready to strike again. Another man, neatly dressed in
black and completely out of context with the small, dingy room, spoke rapidly to
the old man in another language. ‘Chinese,’ Martin realized through
his foggy thoughts. ‘That’s why I don’t understand it.’
Just
then, the man in black looked up and met Martin’s eyes across the small space.
Without releasing his stare, the man spoke quickly and Sun’s tormentor turned
to Martin. The agent’s mind screamed to run, but his feet refused to obey and
he only managed to stumble back against the wall. The door squeaked open and two
dark figures grabbed him from either side. The man in black’s eyes glistened
in the yellow light as he stood, unmoving, next to Sun.
Martin
struggled but found his motions uncoordinated. He was easily forced down to his
knees and then and pushed to his stomach on the floor. He felt a cold sting in
his arm again followed by a hot rush and soon he was wrapped in glorious warmth
once again. Martin’s mind told him this wasn’t a good thing, but the rest of
him surrendered to the delightful high and everything became fuzzy. He groaned
as he sank back into the abyss.
“Looks
like our FBI man has acquired a taste for China White.”
Martin
heard the words and the low laughter that followed, but didn’t care at the
moment; he felt sinfully wonderful.
CHAPTER
FOUR: 8 hours missing
Sam
awoke with a start. She felt a line of drool at the corner of her mouth about
the same time she realized her cheek was resting on her desk. Jerking up, she
quickly wiped her mouth and looked around. Danny’s back was to her and she was
embarrassingly relieved. Her chair squeaked as she sat up, giving her away.
Danny turned and gave her a tired smile.
“Sorry,”
she mumbled, smoothing her hair back from her face and blinking away the sleep.
“Don’t
worry about it. You caught me last time.”
Samantha
grinned sheepishly. “What did you find out?”
“I
found out that shipping is a very lucrative business. Full Moon Shipping owns
ten cargo ships registered in Panama and is the number one company for moving
imports from China. And guess who owns a percentage of the company?”
“The
Crane Corporation,” she guessed. Danny nodded. “Do any owners match up?”
she asked. “I mean, between Crane and Full Moon? Is there a common
denominator?”
“I’m
looking now, but it’s a substantial list of mostly Chinese names. I already
have about a dozen matches.” Danny held her gaze for a moment and then added
in a softer tone. “We’ll find him.”
The
kind words caused her eyes to sting with repressed tears so she nodded quickly
and ducked her head. Samantha realized her affection for Martin must be more
obvious than she thought or her lack of sleep just made it harder to keep her
emotions in check.
The
pair was distracted by the sound of Jack’s raised voice. Although they
couldn’t hear the words, they could see that their boss was not happy with
someone on the other end of the phone line before he slammed the receiver down.
Jack leaned back and rubbed his eyes.
“Think
he just spoke to Daddy Director?” Danny quipped.
“Better
him than me,” Samantha replied.
Jack’s
phone rang again and he snatched it from the cradle before the noise ended. The
conversation was short and Jack was on his feet before hanging up again.
Danny
and Samantha looked at each other then turned toward Vivian, who caught the look
and shrugged her shoulder. By the time Jack made it to his office door, a pair
of scruffily dressed men stepped from the elevator followed by a tall, thin man
in a gray suit.
Waving
a hand to indicate the team should stay seated, Jack met the trio at the bullpen
doorway. After a brief, unintelligible exchange of words the man in the suit
followed Jack to his office while the scruffy pair stopped at the briefing
table. One sat on the edge of the table while the other plopped down in a chair,
both looking tiredly indifferent.
Danny
leaned closer to Samantha’s ear. “They have ‘undercover’ written all
over ‘em.”
“Undercover
with whom?” she replied.
“I
have a feeling we’re about to find out.”
His
mouth a hard, angry line, Jack stalked from his office to the bullpen with the
visitor at heel.
Samantha,
Vivian and Danny automatically took chairs at the conference table. The
plainclothes pair just followed Jack with their eyes.
“It
seems that we’ve crossed into a DEA investigation,” Jack started. “This is
agent Morse from DEA.” Jack indicated the man in the suit. “And those two
are agents Scott and Schuller. They will be taking lead on this case.”
‘No
wonder Jack’s pissed,’ Samantha thought. Then she felt a tingle of fear
in her veins. ‘Martin must have walked into a real mess.’
Jack
continued. “Full Moon Shipping has been the subject of a two year long
investigation by the DEA for bringing in heroin from China. They finally have
someone that will testify against their lead suspect, Mee Liang. He’s tied to
the Chinese Triad, so getting him could bring down a sizeable piece of the
Chinese gang empire here in the states.”
“So
how is Martin involved now?” Danny asked.
Agent
Morse took the cue. “The man we have in protective custody is Tshu-dao Zhan.
He is a bookkeeper for Full Moon Shipping and a member of the Chinese Triad. He
came to this country fifteen years ago with his parents and quickly established
himself at the Company. He’s smart, shrewd and very, very good with numbers.
Zhan is supposed to testify against Liang in three days. It’s a good chance
that Liang now knows he’s missing and will do anything to find Zhan.
“The
key here is Zhan’s parents. Zhan knew fifteen years ago that his job choice
was dangerous for his family. The Triad is known for using family to keep their
gang in line. Zhan managed to make his parents disappear twelve years ago and
walked out of their lives for their safety. He set his parents up in a business
and broke all ties with them. He hasn’t even told us their current names or
locations, even though he demanded we guarantee their safety in exchange for his
testimony. Since Zhan had done such a good job ‘hiding’ them, we thought
that was a safe promise to make. We started noticing FBI hits on Crane
Corporation’s phone records because the phones are tapped – the company is
connected with Liang and Full Moon. It looks like Zhan’s parents – or
father, at least – managed to find Zhan with your agent’s help. And Liang
probably has found Zhan’s father from those same calls.”
Vivian
spoke up. “But we just started checking into Full Moon tonight.”
“Not
exactly,” Sam said. “Martin phone records show that he started calling early
last week, probably as a favor for Sun.”
“Yes,”
Morse confirmed. “And he said a Mr. Sun was trying to find Zhan. With that bit
of information we’ve determined that Alex Sun is actually Soun-dai Zhan, our
man’s father. It seems that after Sun’s wife died he felt the need to
re-connect with his son. What he doesn’t realize is that he has now placed his
own life in danger. Liang obviously has figured out who Sun is; that photo you
have is of two of Liang’s underlings. We believe that Liang has Alex Sun and
plans to use him to get to Zhan, and if we don’t keep our promise to keep his
father safe, our deal is off and Zhan won’t testify. We have to get the old
man back before Zhan finds out he’s been grabbed.
“Our
surveillance tells us that so far, Liang doesn’t know we have Zhan. We made it
look like Zhan fled to Hong Kong, but Liang is a hard man to fool; he’ll check
every lead possible here first. I’m sure he’s discovered some missing books
and now he’ll see if Sun can lead him to Zhan. Once he discovers the old man
doesn’t know a thing, Liang will have him killed or transport him to Hong Kong
as insurance.
“We
have to do everything we can to find Sun before Zhan finds out he’s been taken
and make sure that Liang doesn’t flee before we can press charges on
Monday.”
“At
the expense of my agent?” Jack snapped.
“Yes,
I’m afraid so,” Morse said levelly. “He’s probably the reason they found
Sun in the first place.”
Samantha
felt sick. Martin had unwittingly led Liang right to an innocent old man.
The
effects of whatever they were injecting him with was both wonderful and
frightful. Martin rode the initial rush from the last injection to a peak he’d
never experienced before. The whisper on some inner voice, however, was always
there, telling him that this high was exactly why heroin was so dangerous. It
felt too good.
When
the effect leveled out, he found he could get a little grip on his logical
thoughts and held on to them with desperation – his deep-seated fear of losing
control the sole thing forcing himself to try and think around the addictive
sensation.
‘I
have to get us out of here,’ he realized. The vision of the bloodied Sun
hanging in his mind, Martin tried to make sense of all this. All he did was make
a few inquires for a lonely old man missing his son. Did he bring this down on
the old man, or had he just suffered bad timing on something that was going to
happen anyway? What did Sun have to do with drug dealers?
Something
clicked – maybe it was the missing son that was involved. The small triumph of
a completed, logical thought fortified Martin and inspired him to try and work
around his artificial euphoria. It took some concentration, but he managed to
get to his feet and wobble his way to the door again. This time it was closed,
and he nearly cried in relief when he found it unlocked. Alarmed and taken aback
at how out of control his emotions were, Martin swallowed hard and paused with
his hand on the rusty knob.
‘Come
on, Fitzgerald. Pull yourself together.’ A mental image of his father’s
stern face usually helped him to turn his emotions to ice, but this time a rush
of shame shrouded him. There was no doubt his father would be disappointed in
his son’s current condition – he would see it as weakness, and Fitzgerald
men were not weaklings. Martin blinked rapidly to quell the rising burn of tears
that nearly overwhelmed him. ‘Stop it!’ he chastised himself. ‘That’s
the drug talking. Get a grip!’
With
a deep, bracing sigh, Martin’s survival instincts rose to the surface and he
carefully turned the protesting knob. He felt oddly separate from his body; numb
and disjointed. Panic sparked. ‘Don’t think about it now. Later . . . you
can think about it later.’ He felt a tickle of sweat under his collar as
he slowly pushed the door open.
The
chair that Sun had been in was lying on the dirty floor, empty. Martin looked
around and cautiously ventured out, drawn to the chair. When he got next to it
he saw that the arm was stained with blood and a new battle began within.
‘I’ve
got to find him,’ one voice said. ‘Get the hell out!’ another
urged. His mind was a chaotic mess of thought, both logical and insane. He
thought he was going mad. Martin stumbled to a dark corner and sank to the
floor, head between his hands. It was while he sat there trying to become
functional that a few details about his surroundings sunk in.
It
smelled musty – like the ocean. The two rooms he’d been in were very small,
very bare and very dark. The only light source was the bare bulb hanging down
and the weak sunlight filtering through a dirty, partially painted over window
the only other door. It must go outside, the agent realized. Although all he
really wanted to do was lay down and simply exist, Martin knew if he did that
he’d be dead. He couldn’t give up. ‘A captured agent always seeks
escape,’ he recalled from a long ago lecture.
Then
the deep, resonant sound of a horn caused him to jump and raced his heart.
Working his way to his feet, his stomach rolled and he retched dryly. When his
gut settled, Martin slid along the wall to the dirty window and tried to see
outside through a bare spot where the paint had been scraped off. The outlines
were fuzzy due to the dirt, but he recognized boats. Big ones. ‘Cargo
ships.’
He
was in a shed on a dock or a pier. And two Asian men were walking toward the
shed.
Martin
pushed away from the window in a panic and fell over the chair. His body seemed
ungainly and out of control – he couldn’t get disentangled from the chair.
The door opened and the bright light blinded him. Martin threw his arm over his
eyes.
“Looks
like we got here just in time,” the first man said, pulling a syringe from his
pocket.”
“It
is a waste of a good product, don’t you think?” The second man asked the
first. “He’s going to be dead soon anyway.”
“True,”
the first man agreed as he nodded toward Martin. “Just think of it as field
testing or even quality control.”
The
second man easily snared Martin’s arm and forced him to his stomach. Martin
felt a knee in his back as he gasped for breath. His head throbbed. His other
arm was pulled painfully to the side. He started to struggle, but surrendered at
the first prick of the needle. Instantly, he relaxed and waited for the familiar
rush; he found that he looked forward to it and swore softly.
The
two men released him. “Yes, I’d say he likes this a bit too much.”
And
then he was alone again on his own joy ride. Through the growing euphoria, he
heard one of them say, “Let’s go get the old man.”
CHAPTER
FIVE: 11 hours missing
It
was safer to let Jack drive, Samantha admitted. She was so tired she could
hardly see straight. With a sigh, she rubbed her eyes as Jack’s sedan pulled
out to the street. She slipped her hand in her coat pocket and fingered the silk
tie she’d removed from Martin’s car. She’d grabbed it when the vehicle was
released from the scene and she had driven it back to the parking garage; it had
been a purely instinctive reaction at the time. Now, however, she realized that
just knowing it was there helped her focus.
Jack
glanced her way. “Why don’t you try to sleep a few minutes? It’ll take
nearly an hour to get to the docks.”
At
first she wanted to protest, but her eyelids refused to stay open. “Okay,”
she mumbled, not sure she would actually be successful. With her fingers
intertwined in the soft memento, she felt her body relax.
In
what seemed like moments later, she felt a warm hand gently stroke her cheek.
“Martin?” she mumbled, struggling to wake up.
“No,
sorry.”
She
blinked in confusion and Jack’s face came into focus. “Oh!” she said,
momentarily flustered. She’d been dreaming about Martin, she realized
instantly. She felt her cheeks burn and jerked her hand from her coat pocket,
the item hidden there feeling heavy. “Oh, um, I was just dreaming . . .”
“I
see that.” Jack’s smile had a tinge of sadness.
“I
mean, I was . . . are we there?” Covering her embarrassment, she sat up and
pushed her hair back. Outside, she saw a pier flanked by cargo ships. Cranes
were noisily lowering shipping boxes into the hold. She could hear men shouting
in the distance and the sound of machinery.
“Directly
before you is the main pier for Full Moon Shipping. The ship they’re loading
now is the next one scheduled to depart in . . .” he looked at his watch. “.
. . twenty-four hours. If they choose to get Sun away from here, that’s their
best bet. Those plain clothed guys are part of the loading crew so we should
hear pretty quick if something goes down.”
“What
about Martin? Do you think he and Sun are still together?”
“I
hope so,” Jack replied.
“Are
Danny and Viv set up?”
“Probably
not. They’re probably just getting to Crane headquarters.”
Just
then his cell phone rang. Samantha was glad for the distraction.
“Malone.”
He listened for a few seconds. “Okay. Keep an eye on him.” He repocketed the
phone. “Liang just arrived at his office. Morse is setting up on his house.
The guy can’t breathe without us knowing.”
Still,
Samantha was on edge. Liang owned lots of buildings in the city, but to set up
teams on every one was impossible, she knew. “I just hope Morse is right that
Liang is a hands-on kind of guy and will want to be there when he does something
with Sun.”
“I
hope he’s right, too. We’ll have to trust what his team tells us.”
“We’ll
have to trust that no one on his team is dirty and will help Liang escape.”
Jack
let out a short laugh. “I’ve been a bad influence on you. That’s something
I would say.”
For
the first time since Martin’s disappearance, a ghost of a smile haunted
Samantha’s lips.
‘Let’s
go get the old man.’
The
phrase bounced around in his mind until he thought he’d go crazy. Martin found
it hard to motivate himself into action. He focused on that one thought and
eventually got his limbs to function. Something wasn’t right, though, and it
took the miniscule part left of his logical mind a while to realize that his
hands were tied behind him again. This time, however, he didn’t have the
energy or the heart to work them to the front.
‘Let’s
go get the old man.’
Martin
shook his head in an effort to clear it, but it just made him dizzier. The
phrase pushed him into action and he struggled to his feet. Fixing his stare on
the exit, he moved forward and tripped over the chair, falling hard on his knees
and then toppling to the side. With his hands tied, he was unable to stop his
fall and cracked his cheek on the cement floor. Stars spiraled before his eyes. ‘Damn
it,’ he cursed, fighting to keep conscious. A shot of anger brought him
around enough to move on. Now he felt throbbing in his knees as well as his head
and cheek.
Martin
felt detached from his body which made walking a disjointed affair. He used the
wall as support and finally made it to the door and looked blearily outside –
one eye was swelling shut, and it was difficult to see. Two men were talking,
heads bowed together, their voices too soft to distinguish words. Martin
recognized them as the two goons that kept him drugged and he felt a surge of
panic. As he watched and tried to manage the upheaval of emotions, Martin saw
the two men suddenly glance aside. They each pulled a weapon and stepped out of
sight. Martin seized the opportunity and slipped clumsily outside.
The
brightness of the sun blinded him and his eyes instantly began to tear up.
Losing his equilibrium, Martin pressed his back against the shack to regain
balance. Once square on his feet – or so he thought – he ducked his head and
stumbled around the corner of the shack and out of sight.
The
world seemed – fuzzy. Dull and fuzzy. The euphoria from the drug had flattened
out, leaving Martin feeling drained and wanting. His stomach lurched, his head
and knees throbbed and his mind screamed that he needed distance from this
shack. Sorting through all these mixed up sensory inputs and emotions was nearly
impossible, but the mental picture of the bloody old man helped him to focus. He
stumbled onward toward the collection of mammoth sized shipping crates and got
lost among them.
CHAPTER
SIX: 14 hours missing
Samantha
worked every trick in the book to stay alert – jogging in place, coffee,
conversation – it all worked for a short time. Her body begged for sleep, and
she knew Jack had to feel the same. Her boss’ eyes had obvious and huge bags
under them. They had already bantered about his advantage of experiencing babies
and small children in the house; they prepared you for sleepless nights and
sleep deprived days.
Finally,
she’d agreed to a cat nap. Twenty minutes had been more refreshing than she
could imagine, probably because there were no dreams. Jack had agreed to his own
cat nap and was reclined in the driver’s seat of the sedan when she heard his
phone ring. It was an amazing thing to witness – Jack was awake and alert by
the second ring. Samantha wondered if she would ever get to that level.
“Malone,”
he barked, not a touch of sleep to his tone. “Okay, we’re on it.”
“What?”
she asked, grateful for the spark of adrenalin.
“Liang
just left his house and is headed here. Viv and Danny are following.”
Samantha
snatched the binoculars from the seat and focused on the docks. “It looks like
business as usual down there. I wonder if they are expecting him.”
“The
phone calls for the past hour or so have been short – they may know they’re
being monitored.” Jack kicked the door open and got out, leaning on the frame
of the open door as he studied the docks spread out before them. “There are a
lot of places to hide someone in there. We’ll have to rely on the DEA to
narrow it down for us. I just hope their assumption is right that Sun is
here.” His phone rang again. “Malone.”
Samantha
could tell by Jack’s one-sided conversation that it was Martin’s father on
the other end. She breathed a short prayer of thanks that she didn’t have to
deal with Victor Fitzgerald on top of all this; she was having problems enough
of her own with it.
Jack
snapped the phone closed. “I don’t think I’d want to be the DEA agent
whose phone number Director Fitzgerald has right now,” he grumbled. “At
least he has the sense to stay outside the perimeter at the moment.”
“I
think I see some motion,” Samantha said, her grip tightening on the field
glasses. “Around the containers . . . where are Scott and Schuller are? By the
ships?”
“Yeah.”
Jack’s voice carried the edge that Samantha felt. It was pure torture being on
the outside looking in.
“We
need to move in closer. I can’t see anything around those containers,”
Samantha growled. She lowered the glasses. “If Scott and Schuller are by the
ship, then who’s watching the office? Those huge containers are between the
ship and the office; they can’t possibly be watching both.”
Jack
hunched his shoulders. “I was assured that DEA was on it.” It was obvious
that he wasn’t satisfied with that information either, and after a second, he
turned to her. When he did, Samantha was caught by his eyes – they spoke
volumes on their own when he said, “The only way we can justify going in is if
we’re in hot pursuit, understand?” Jack held her stare until she nodded.
“So keep your eyes peeled.” Only then, he turned away
Samantha’s
heart raced. “I have to stretch my legs.” She slipped from the vehicle and
stood.
Jack
opened his door to join her, but his phone rang again. He snatched it from his
pocket and flipped it open. “Malone,” he said, turning to wave Samantha off.
He spoke rapidly into the phone for a few seconds then closed it with a snap.
“The Director wants me to meet him at the DEA command center. I’ll send
Danny down when he gets here. Meanwhile, stay put, okay?”
“Okay,”
Samantha agreed.
They
shipyard was huge and was made up of numerous piers. Each pier was gated for
security. They had been parked in the dockworkers’ parking lot among countless
other cars. When he drove off, Samantha waited until he was out of sight and
then wended her way through the vehicles to the edge of the lot. One hand
fingered the silky tie in her pocket as she walked and studied the lay of the
land.
When
she reached the security fence that separated the docks from the lot area,
Samantha walked along it and found a growing collection of barrels, boxes and
junk as she got farther from the main gate. Finally, she spotted what she’d
hoped to find: a small hole in the chain link, mostly hidden by the junk.
Samantha immediately ducked down and worked the wires until she was able to slip
through. She knew this was more than Jack would allow, but she had to do this
for Martin.
Staying
low and close to fence, she hesitated and tried to pick out a route that offered
the most concealment. She’d just figured a path when her phone rang. The agent
fumbled with the device, saw that it was Jack calling, and bit her lip guiltily.
“Sorry,
Jack,” she whispered as she turned off the phone. “Let’s call it plausible
deniability.” She slipped it into the same pocket that held Martin’s tie,
and then pushed off the fence and headed toward the jungle of ship containers
that surrounded the shipping office.
&
& & & &
Mee
Liang’s driver slowed the dark sedan at the dock’s security gate, and then
was allowed through with a silent nod from the guard. Liang felt his jaws
working in anger. None of his contacts here or overseas had been able to locate
Zhan, and Zhan’s father had proved to be worthless as a source of information.
It was time to believe the worst – he’d been betrayed. That’s the only
thing that made sense with the presence of the FBI agent.
The
last person that had betrayed Liang was at the bottom of the
The
car stopped at Full Moon’s shipping office. The driver jumped out, scanned the
area, and smoothly opened the door for Liang. The office door opened at
Liang’s approach and the manager bowed respectfully and stepped back to allow
his boss to enter. Pulling off his sunglasses, Liang looked around the office.
“Mr.
Wang. Where’s the agent?” Liang asked without preamble.
Manager
Wang’s hands were a study in nervous energy. Liang was instantly on alert and
his eyes bore into the scared man before him.
“He’s
escaped,” Mr. Wang finally admitted. “He couldn’t have gotten far and
we’re looking for him now. It’s only been a few minutes.”
Liang’s
lips pressed into a thin line, and his hand was in motion before he even thought
about it. The slap sent Wang reeling backward where he cowered in response.
“Move Sun to the ship. If that agent isn’t found soon, you will be joining
our guest on the ship, Mr. Wang. Understand?”
& & & & &
A
small, constant voice nagged Martin through all his misery. Although his body
was wracked in pain and begged for rest, he continued to push on, foot by foot,
yard by yard. What his body begged for was to simply curl up in a dark cave and
die, but the voice urged him on. Finally, through his fading vision and puffy
eyes, Martin saw an open space beyond the crates and a perimeter fence.
It
looked like an impossible chasm to cross and his determination faltered.
He
sank to the ground and brought his knees to his chest in an effort to ease the
cramps. Resting his forehead on his knees, Martin chewed his lip to keep from
moaning out loud, eventually tasting blood on his tongue, but the pain there was
barely noticeable. His hands were still secured behind his back – he didn’t
have the energy or inclination to do anything about it.
Martin’s
stomach twisted again and he broke out in a cold sweat. Tipping to the ground
and trying to curl into a ball, nothing else mattered at the moment except
riding the wave until it receded enough to move on.
& & & & &
Samantha
moved along the crates with her gun drawn. She could hear moving feet and
shouted commands, but didn’t understand the words. Staying along the outside
crates was the safest route at the moment. She crept along the back of one
container and stopped at the corner, preparing to dash across the opening to the
cover of the next container. Quickly, she peeked around to see if it was clear
and immediately saw a crumpled form on the ground. Her heart clenched – it was
Martin.
CHAPTER
SEVEN: 15 hours missing
If
one had a practiced eye, one might be able to tell there was something amiss
around the Full Moon offices on Pier 22. The dockworkers continued to load the
ship and slowly reducing the number of crates stored on the pier without a clue
that a search was in progress.
Liang
knew that although many crates would eventually be gone, there were still a
large number left to search. As his men roamed among them looking for the
escaped FBI agent, Liang quickly weighed his options. If Zhan had, in fact
turned – and that looked like a certainty at this point – what was left
here? Always careful to keep his tracks covered, Mee Liang began to formulate
his next possible steps in his mind.
Even
if the agent was found, there would be some losses here today. He couldn’t
allow this scandal to scar him; he wouldn’t allow it. Liang would walk away
from this and live to deal again. With a plan finalized, the Triad chief was a
picture of controlled calm as he waited for the deadline in his mind to arrive.
&
& & & &
Quickly
looking around, Samantha knew she had little time to act. Satisfied the area was
clear for the moment she immediately moved to Martin’s side and kneeled down.
“Martin!” she whispered as she tucked her gun away to free her hands. His
body jerked at the noise and he tried to push away. “It’s Samantha, Martin.
I’m here to help you.” The first thing she did was begin to untie his hands.
As she did so, she looked him over quickly and her stomach lurched at what she
saw.
Martin
was more than dirty and disheveled. His dress shirt was gone, and his white
t-shirt was stained brown by sweat and dirt and possibly blood. One side of his
face was puffy and bruised, the eye purple and swollen shut, and his unshaven
skin was marked with bloody scrapes. His feet were bare, scraped and dirty, his
pants torn at the knees. When she released his arms, he moaned in pain as he
brought them forward to grip his stomach. Samantha saw raw, bloody wrists and
swollen fingers. Dots of dried blood lined the inner part of his left arm –
injection sites, she realized.
Samantha
found her throat had suddenly closed and couldn’t speak as her eyes burned
with growing tears. The urgency of the situation was the only thing that kept
her mind on track; she bent low and took his face in her hands, turning it
toward her so he could see her with his uninjured eye. The misery she saw in the
normally bright blue almost crumbled her resolve. Instead, she set her jaw and
captured his attention and spoke with determination.
“We
have to move, Martin, you hear me? We have to get out of sight. I’m here to
help you.”
“Sam?”
The word was a bare whisper from his cracked lips. “God, it hurts!”
She
helped him to sit. “I know, Marty, I know. Just a little longer, okay? Hang on
for me just a little longer.”
“Don’t
know . . . I’ll try.”
“Yes,
Martin, you can do it. I have to look for a place to hole up. I’ll be right
back.” When she released him he sank down into a pitiful huddle. Panic made
her heart race, but she forced herself to proceed with caution. She drew her gun
again and looked around with a more critical eye. One of the crates had to be
open.
Darting
back to the outer crates she studied the locking mechanism and gave the locking
bar an experimental tug. It didn’t move. With a silent curse she made her way
back to her partner and squatted down. “Okay,” she said firmly. “Let’s
go.” She wrapped one of his arms around her shoulder and fought to stand. Dead
weight would have been easier as he resisted straightening up. “Come on, move
your feet,” she urged.
With
a low groan, Martin leaned into her and dragged one foot after another; Samantha
could tell that all he wanted to do was double over. She pulled him around the
corner and guided him to the next container. She tried that latch, again without
luck. She swore softly and moved on. He hung heavily on her shoulder, panting
rapidly. Samantha tried to ignore his pasty complexion and cold, clammy skin as
well as the rising fear in her heart. “You’re doing fine . . .” The next
crate’s door was already ajar and Samantha picked up the pace. She heard
distant voices; they would be here soon.
The
metal container door was stiff, the latch rusty in patches where the paint had
peeled. It took some muscle – difficult with Martin hanging on one side –
but she pried the door open enough to squeeze in and dragged the miserable agent
inside. She propped him against the wall to secure the door.
“Stay
on your feet, Martin,” she ordered in a no-nonsense whisper. She put her gun
away and pulled the door shut; it didn’t move easily. When it was finally
shut, they were shrouded in darkness and stale air. Small vents in the roof
allowed a minimal of light, but even if it was dark, Samantha knew they were
visible if the crate door was opened.
A
soft moan from Martin caught her attention and she watched him slide slowly into
a miserable slump. “No,” she whispered, “not here.” She glanced around
and saw the dark shapes of stacked boxes toward the back. Moving to him she
unceremoniously grabbed the front of his shirt with both hands and hauled him
up.
“Okay,
okay,” he mumbled. Then he gasped and every muscle in his body contracted.
Samantha
pulled him to the back and behind the boxes, deep in a corner. She heard the
skitter of varmint feet and dust motes swirled above them in the feeble rays of
light; she fought an urge to sneeze. Martin retched dryly. She let him down as
gently as she could in the darkest spot she could find. Something crunched under
their weight and the wall they were against felt sticky, but neither one cared
at this moment.
“Oh,
God,” Martin gasped as his body curled tightly on itself.
All
Samantha could do was hold him close and watch his back. “Shhh,” she crooned
with her eyes turned toward the front of the container. He quieted with her
comfort, enabling her to again get her weapon in hand.
Samantha
knew that there were frantic thoughts in her mind that she was ignoring. For
now, it was a deadly game of hide and seek and their survival depended entirely
on her. She had to keep her cool.
CHAPTER
EIGHT: 16 Hours missing
The
DEA command center was quiet at the moment. Jack knew that the surveillance had
been set up rather quickly after Martin’s disappearance, and the lead agent
was not happy.
“We’ve
been putting together a case for two years now. Two years!” The agent in
charge was in Victor Fitzgerald’s face on Jack’s arrival. Jack knew
immediately that his meeting with the Deputy Director was already in the toilet.
He stood on the Director’s right hand as the DEA man finished his tirade.
When
the DEA representative stalked off, Fitzgerald grabbed Jack’s elbow and
steered him away from the surveillance team.
“What
have you done to find my son? How did this happen? Can’t you control your team
better than this, Jack?” The man spoke through clenched teeth.
“It
was something Martin did on his own. It was a fluke. He walked into it with no
idea.”
“My
son was using FBI resources. You should have known.”
Jack
got in the Director’s face. “I don’t micromanage my team! There’s no way
any of us would have seen this coming.” Jack took a step back and forced his
voice to a level tone. “My concern right now is finding Martin and getting him
back, which won’t be too easy with DEA taking lead and my getting called to
useless meetings. Now if you’re through, I will get back to finding your
son.”
The
Deputy Director’s jaw worked furiously. Jack turned on his heel and pulled his
cell phone from his jacket pocket. “Come on, Sam, pick up the damn phone,”
he grumbled as he walked to his car. When she didn’t pick up, he slammed the
phone shut. It immediately rang. “Malone.”
“Jack,
it’s Viv. I found a vantage point where I can see the Full Moon office, but I
need a telescope to see any detail. I can see that there’s something going on.
Liang’s heading to the ship.”
“Hold
on.” Jack jogged to where a DEA team was listening to the Full Moon office via
a planted microphone. “What’s going on? Liang’s going to the ship.”
An
agent with headphones motioned for quiet. His partner took Jack aside and spoke
quietly. “Nothing. We’ve heard nothing. Liang is staying outside the
building and we can’t monitor in that area. We have to rely on visual.”
Just
then, the man’s phone rang and he flipped it open. “
Jackson
.” He nodded, and frowned.
“It’s too early. We don’t have anything yet. We have to wait for the next
ship to dock later tonight before we move, Schuller, it’s too early.” After
a few ‘uh-huhs’, the agent hung up.
“Too
early for what?” Jack asked, his eyes demanding an answer.
“To
move. We can’t move until a certain Full Moon ship docks later tonight. We
suspect there’s a shipment of China White heroin on it. It will wrap up this
whole investigation. I’m sorry about your man, but we can’t move too
early.”
Jack
jabbed his finger in agent Jackson’s face. “Agent Fitzgerald is in this
position due to no fault of his own. If I see a chance to get him, I will.”
“You
foul up this investigation, Agent Malone, and I’ll have your head on a
platter.”
“You
just try.” Jack turned on his heel and stormed back to his car. The phone rang
again and he opened it with a little more force than was necessary.
“Malone!” he barked.
“Jack,
it’s Danny. I went to the parking lot but I can’t find Samantha anywhere. I
did find a hole in the fence . . .”
“That’s
just great!” he snapped. “I’ll be right there.” As he started the car,
Jack wondered what the hell else could possibly go wrong today.
&
& & & &
Samantha
held Martin close to her in the darkness. She felt the spasms wrack his body and
felt completely useless. He was wringing wet with cold sweat and making a
valiant effort to keep quiet, but every once in a while his groans made her
heart break.
She
kept her eyes on the door and her gun in her hand for what seemed like an
eternity. She could hear the sound of the search going on outside and prayed
Martin would keep quiet. One time, the container door groaned as someone pulled
it open a crack, but no further; it wouldn’t go any further. After she heard
some muttered discussion and a small flashlight poked in the darkness is a less
than thorough manner, the door was pushed shut again. Then she heard a noise
that made her stomach flip – they latched the crate door.
“Shit,”
she whispered.
Martin
had finally relaxed a little, his latest spasms leaving him completely drained.
Samantha moved out from under him and gently laid him down. Holstering her gun,
she decided to check the door but instead, turned to her partner and friend and
gently stroked his rough cheek.
Leaning
in close, she whispered. “I have to look around, okay? You need to be
quiet.”
Martin’s
panting had become less frantic and his good eye fluttered open. He nodded once,
his lips moving slightly as he breathed, “Okay,” and then he closed his eye
and lay still. She cringed at what he may be laying on.
Samantha
softly brushed his temple with her lips and turned away. She got to the doors
and, noticing it was quiet outside, pulled out her cell phone. In the light the
phone face provided, she saw the words “NO SERVICE” and groaned. Looking
around she realized that with the metal container sealed, she shouldn’t be
surprised. Her eyes found the ceiling vents – it was her only chance.
She
pocketed the phone and fell on the boxes. The wooden crates were empty, the lids
loose, but still in good shape. She started moving them around after she was
sure no one was outside and stacked them under a vent. Climbing to the top she
discovered that the vents were mostly rusted, some almost eaten through
completely. She pulled her gun out and removed the magazine and chambered
bullet, then frowned apologetically at the weapon. ‘Not the best way to
treat you, I know, but you’re all I got,’ she thought as she grabbed the
barrel and began tapping at the vents with the butt of the gun.
It
didn’t take long to break out enough vents to make a hole big enough for her
slim body. She only hoped no one heard her; reloading the gun, she dragged up
another box and stood on it. Her head and shoulders poked up into the sun.
All
she saw was an expanse of container roofs and the office on the far side. ‘A
direct path,’ she smiled as she pulled herself out onto the roof. She only
heard the distant noises of ship loading and wondered where the searchers went.
Hesitant at first, she moved slowly along the roof and jumped to the next one. ‘Where
is everybody?’ she wondered. Carefully she stood up straighter and looked
toward the office. There, she saw the dark form of Liang walking toward his
sedan. His driver opened the door for him, and Liang got in. The sedan was soon
in motion. It drove to the ship and stopped next to a loading ramp.
Activity
at the office caught her attention again and she silently moved closer. Two men
dragged a large wooden crate to a waiting fork lift. The box was loaded up and
followed the path of the sedan. It veered off at the ship, however, and
continued up the loading ramp and disappeared inside the ship. Soon, a golf cart
with two men pulled up next to the sedan and paused. Then, it followed the
forklift’s path up the ramp.
The
sedan drove away, heading to the pier exit. Samantha got as close to the office
as she dared and jumped down. It was a long drop and it took a moment for her
feet to stop stinging from the landing – she was glad she wore flat pumps. She
pulled her gun and made it to the back of the office building, peeking in a
small window into what looked like a break room. There was a table and a
refrigerator, coffee maker and . . .
‘Sugar.’
Samantha recalled that jails and prisons used sugar and vitamins to ease the
symptoms of heroin withdrawals for inmates. They called them ‘kick packs.’
She slipped around the corner and found an unlocked back door. When she reached
the break room, Samantha loaded up her pocket with sugar and took two water
bottles from the refrigerator before she heard voices from the front office. She
darted into a small storage room and closed the door.
The
voices she heard in the break room were speaking Chinese so she gave up trying
to listen and looked around the closet. The door had a vented panel on the
bottom portion that threw lines of light on the floor. Samantha noticed dark
stains on the floor and wall. Using a tiny pocket flashlight, she looked at the
stains – dried blood. She looked around the room with a more critical eye and
saw that a bucket and most of the bottles were knocked over. Some of the bottles
were on the floor. Someone had struggled in here. Martin? Sun? Holding the
flashlight in her mouth, the agent pulled out a latex glove from her coat pocket
and scraped some of the dried blood into it using her fingernail. Then she tied
the glove shut and cringed. ‘Not the best method, but it will have to
do,’ she thought.
It
seemed like an eternity before the break room was quiet again so she could slip
out. The office area was practically deserted, she realized. Part of her was
relieved that they had stopped searching, but another part of her wondered why;
that made her more nervous. Did they go to the ship?
She
darted back among the boxes and worked her way to the back row. She was about to
approach the container where Martin was, but at the last moment she noticed a
golf cart driven by a pair of men checking the inside of the fence. ‘Damn,’
she thought as she watched them find the hole she had used. By their
actions, however, it looked like they assumed Martin had used it to get out
because they were studying the junk pile and parking lot beyond the fence.
Samantha
knew it was time to make a call, because she wasn’t going to be able to get
out now. The agent backed into a dark spot and pulled out her phone. Jack
answered in two rings.
“Where
the hell are you?” Jack demanded. His tone told Samantha that things outside
the fence were not going well, either.
She
spoke with a low voice. “I found Martin. We’re in a blue metal shipping
container east of the Full Moon office.”
Jack’s
voice softened. “How is he?”
“Not
good. Look, I don’t think I can get him out right now. The fence line is being
patrolled from the inside. Do either Scott or Schuller have any idea where Sun
might be? I looked around in the office a little and found some blood.”
“No.
They said less that an hour ago that it appears to be business as usual. Liang
may suspect he’s been infiltrated. He’s being careful – not saying much,
keeping off the phones. He just left the grounds.”
“I
know, I saw,” Samantha said. “They took a crate from the office and loaded
it on the ship.”
Jack
hesitated. “What did the crate look like? How big?”
“Wood.
I’d say about four-by-four . . .”
“Shit
– big enough for a man. I think you may have found Sun.” Jack’s voice took
on an urgent tone. “Sam, you get in that container and sit tight. Don’t
move, you hear me?”
“Sure,
but I can’t use the phone when I’m in there . . .”
“Then
check in every half hour or when you hear the shit hit the fan.” The
connection cut off and Samantha pocketed the phone. Her heart pumped stronger in
anticipation – something was going down very soon.
She
kept a sharp eye on the patrol and as soon as they were out of sight she moved
to the container door. Her heart sank; a shiny, new lock hung from the latch.
CHAPTER
EIGHT : 18 hours missing
From
the cover of the parking lot Jack called Vivian and told her to head for the
command post. Danny raised his eyebrows questioningly in reaction to Jack’s
latest phone conversations.
“You
know where Martin and Sun are?”
“I
know where Martin and Sam are,” Jack said sharply with a nod toward the lines
of containers on the dock. “In a blue container.”
Danny
looked through the fence. “I hate to tell you, but there are a lot of blue
containers in there.”
“Yeah,
I know. This one is on the outer edge and that’s all I know. Samantha is near
it and Martin is in it. As far as Sun goes, I think he just got loaded on the
boat.” Jack pulled out his phone and punched the buttons. “Now I’ve just
got to convince DEA that their stakeout may be costing lives.”
Jack
asked for Jackson, the DEA lead agent. When he was on the line Jack told him
what Samantha had seen and his suspicion that Sun was in the crate. He listened
for a moment and then said, “What? He just left?” Another pause. “I’m
warning you, something’s going down and I will get my agents out of
there, you hear me?”
Snapping
the phone shut with a little more force than necessary, Jack dropped the device
in his coat pocket and ran his hands through his hair, letting out an explosive
breath.
“What’s
up?” Danny ventured.
“Liang
just left in his limo. I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all . . .”
Danny
cocked his head, thinking. After a moment he straightened. “You think
Liang’s fleeing? Then that means Sun is probably dead.”
“Or
will be soon.” Jack slipped into the car and Danny followed suit. They both
watched the dock for a several minutes.
“Should
we follow Liang?”
“He’s
DEA’s problem. My interest is right here.” Jack stared at the containers
again, trying to figure Liang’s next move. “We’re going back to the
command post,” he finally said, starting the car.
“What
if Samantha comes back here?” Danny asked.
“She’s
pinned down for now. I think the next move involves the ship.” Dropping the
sedan into gear, Jack sped from the parking lot.
& & & & &
Samantha
circled the container and kept out of the patrolling guards’ sight. All the
containers were uniform in size, and all at least ten feet high and smooth
sided; there was no way she was getting to the roof without some kind of ladder.
As she slipped between the containers looking for something to stack and climb, she was also aware of the sun breaking out of the cloud cover. With the doors shut the container Mart