*
The highway took a sweep around the Brooklyn army facility and Yindao steered the police station wagon onto an exit ramp, about as fast as the Ghost himself would have taken the turn in his BMW or Porsche, and descended into a pleasant neighborhood of tidy yards and red-brick buildings.
The Ghost glanced into the side mirror casually and noticed that Yusuf was still behind them.
Then he looked at Yindao, the profile of her beautiful face, her shimmery red hair pinned into a bun, the outline of her breasts beneath her black T-shirt.
He was startled by the blare of the woman's phone ringing again.
She answered it.
"Rhyme . . . yeah, we're in the neighborhood. Go ahead." She fell silent. "Excellent!" She turned to the Ghost and Coe. "He's found them. A friend of Chang's got him an apartment and a job near here. It's not that far away." She turned her attention back to the phone. As she listened to what Rhyme was saying, though, the expression on her face grew momentarily dark. It seemed to the Ghost that she had tensed in reaction to whatever the man was now telling her. The Ghost wondered if Rhyme had learned something about him. He grew vigilant.
"Sure, Rhyme," she said finally. "Got it."
Yindao disconnected the call.
"Damn," Coe said. "I never thought he'd really be able to do it."
The Ghost looked at her. "So he got the exact address."
She didn't answer for a moment. Finally she said, "Yeah."
Then she began talking, just chatting like a schoolgirl, about her life in Brooklyn. The Ghost saw at once that this wasn't her nature and he grew even more suspicious. Whatever Rhyme had told her at the end of their conversation, he now understood, had nothing to do with the Changs.
He noticed her hand slip to her leg, which she scratched absently. She left her hand near her hip and he realized that the gesture was merely an excuse to move her hand to her gun.
With his eyes still on the road, the Ghost's hand now slipped casually to his side and then curled behind his back until it was touching the grip of his Glock pistol, which rested in the waistband of his workout slacks under the windbreaker.
Silence in the car as they drove for some minutes through residential streets. It seemed to the Ghost, though, that Yindao was merely driving in circles. He grew even more tense and cautious.
Another turn and, looking at the house numbers, she pulled up to the curb, put the car in park and set the brake. Pointing to a small brownstone apartment building.
"That's it."
The Ghost glanced quickly but kept his attention wholly on Yindao.
"Not the shithole I was expecting," Coe said cynically. "Let's go get this over with."
Yindao said casually, "Wait." And she turned to her right to look at Coe over the seat.
The Ghost could see easily that it was a feint. She moved fast--far faster than the Ghost had expected. Before the snakehead could even close his fingers around his own pistol, Yindao had swept hers from her holster and was swinging the gun toward him.
GHOSTKILL
* * *
Easton, Long Island, Crime Scene * Two immigrants killed on beach; shot in back.
* One immigrant wounded--Dr. John Sung.
* "Bangshou" (assistant) on board; identity unknown.
* Assistant confirmed as drowned body found near site where Dragon sank.
* Ten immigrants escape: seven adults (one elderly, one injured woman), two children, one infant. Steal church van.
* Blood samples sent to lab for typing.
* Injured woman is AB negative. Requesting more information about her blood.
* Vehicle awaiting Ghost on beach left without him. One shot believed fired by Ghost at vehicle. Request for vehicle make and model sent out, based on tread marks and wheelbase.
* Vehicle is a BMW X5.
* Driver--Jerry Tang.
* No vehicles to pick up immigrants located.
* Cell phone, presumably Ghost's, sent for analysis to FBI.
* Untraceable satellite secure phone. Hacked Chinese gov't system to use it.
* Ghost's weapon is 7.62mm pistol. Unusual casing.
* Model 51 Chinese automatic pistol.
* Ghost is reported to have gov't people on payroll.
* Ghost stole red Honda sedan to escape. Vehicle locator request sent out.
* No trace of Honda found.
* Three bodies recovered at sea--two shot, one drowned. Photos and prints to Rhyme and Chinese police.
* Drowned individual identified as Victor Au, the Ghost's bangshou.
* Fingerprints sent to AFIS.
* No matches on any prints but unusual markings on Sam Chang's fingers and thumbs (injury, rope burn?).
* Profile of immigrants: Sam Chang and Wu Qichen and their families, John Sung, baby of woman who drowned, unidentified man and woman (killed on beach).
Stolen Van, Chinatown * Camouflaged by immigrants with "The Home Store" logo.
* Blood spatter suggests injured woman has hand, arm or shoulder injury.
* Blood samples sent to lab for typing.
* Injured woman is AB negative. Requesting more information about her blood.
* Fingerprints sent to AFIS.
* No matches.
Jerry Tang Murder Crime Scene
* Four men kicked door in and tortured him and shot him.
* Two shell casings--match Model 51. Tang shot twice in head.
* Extensive vandalism.
* Some fingerprints.
* No matches except Tang's.
* Three accomplices have smaller shoe size than Ghost, presumably smaller stature.
* Trace suggests Ghost's safehouse is probably downtown, in Battery Park City area.
* Suspected accomplices from Chinese ethnic minority. Presently pursuing whereabouts.
* Uighurs from Turkestan Community and Islamic Center of Queens.
* Cell phone calls lead to 805 Patrick Henry Street, downtown.
Canal Street Shooting Crime Scene * Additional trace suggesting safehouse is in Battery Park City area.
* Stolen Chevrolet Blazer, untraceable.
* No match on prints.
* Safehouse carpet: Arnold company's Lustre-Rite, installed in past six months; calling contractors to get list of installations.
* Locations of installations determined: 32 near Battery Park City.
* Fresh gardening mulch found.
* Body of Ghost's accomplice: ethnic minority from west or northwest China. Negative on prints. Weapon was Walther PPK.
* Details on immigrants:
* The Changs: Sam, Mei-Mei, William and Ronald; Sam's father, Chang Jiechi, and infant, Po-Yee. Sam has job arranged but employer and location unknown. Driving blue van, no make, no tag number. Changs' apartment is in Queens.
* The Wus: Qichen, Yong-Ping, Chin-Mei and Lang.
Safehouse Shooting Crime Scene * Fingerprints and photos of Chang Jiechi's hands reveal father--and son Sam--are calligraphers. Sam Chang might be doing printing or sign painting. Calling stores and companies in Queens.
* Biosolids on deceased's shoes suggest they live in neighborhood near sewage treatment plant.
* Ghost uses feng shui practitioner to arrange his living space.
Fuzhou Dragon Crime Scene * Ghost used new C4 to blow up ship. Checking origin of explosive through chemical markers.
* Large quantity of new U.S. bills found in Ghost's cabin.
* Approx. $20,000 in used Chinese yuan found in cabin.
* List of victims, air charter details and bank deposit information. Checking name of sender in China.
* Captain alive but unconscious.
* Regained consciousness, now in INS detention.
* Beretta 9mm, Uzi. Unable to trace.
Sonny Li Murder Crime Scene
* Killed by new Glock 36, .45-caliber. (Gov't issue?) * Tobacco.
* Flecks of yellow paper.
* Unidentified plant material (herbs, spices, drugs?).
* Magnesium silicate (talc) under fingernails.
Chapter Forty-four
The Ghost involuntarily flinched, half-expecting Yindao to shoot him without warning--which is what he, of course, would have done had the circumstances been reversed.
But the muzzle of the black weapon traveled past him in a blur and came to rest on the man in the backseat.
"Not an inch, Coe. Don't move an inch. Keep your hands where I can see 'em."
"What . . . What is this?" Coe asked, rearing back in shock.
"Don't move," she snapped. "One hand disappears and you're dead."
"I don't--" The agent blinked.
"You understand me?"
"Yes, I fucking understand you," he spat out angrily. "You better tell me what this is all about."
"On the phone a minute ago? Lincoln had a little more to tell me than just directions to the Changs'. He looked over the evidence a second time and made some phone calls. You thought you covered it up pretty well, didn't you?"
"Put that down, Officer! You can't--"
"He knows all about it. How you're the one working for the Ghost."
The agent swallowed. "Are you out of your fucking mind?"
"You're his guardian angel. You're protecting him. That's why you fired that shot at the Wus' place on Canal Street: you weren't trying to hit him. You were trying to warn him. And you've been feeding him information--you told him the Wus were in the Murray Hill safehouse."
Coe looked around nervously, glancing outside. "This's bullshit."
The Ghost struggled to control his breathing. His hands shook. He was sweating furiously. He wiped his palms on his slacks.
"Don't worry, John," Yindao said to him. "He's not going to hurt anybody else." She continued speaking to the agent, "And you got the Ghost a nice new gun--a Glock. A new .45. Which happens to be the issue weapon in the INS."
"You're crazy, Officer."
"We've had reports all along that the Ghost was bribing people in the government over here. We just never thought it'd be an INS agent. Why all the trips to China, Coe? According to Peabody, none of the other field agents travel over there as much as you do. Sometimes apparently on your own nickel too. You were meeting your boss's snakeheads."
"Because my informant disappeared over there and I wanted to get the asshole who did it."
"Well, Rhyme's contacting the Fuzhou security bureau right now. He wants to look over the evidence in that case too."
"You're saying I killed my own informant? A woman with children?"
"We'll look at the evidence," she said coolly.
"If anybody said they ever saw us together, the Ghost and me, they're lying."
"That doesn't mean anything. He's not going to meet anybody in person who could testify against him. He's got intermediaries who do that."
"You're dreaming, Officer."
"No, we're just examining evidence," Yindao said. "Rhyme just ran your cell phone call record. A half-dozen calls to a dead-letter answering service in New Jersey in the past two days."
"Oh, bullshit. I use that for my local CIs."
"You never mentioned running informants before."
"Because it didn't have anything to do with this case."
Yindao snapped, "Were you going to call the Ghost when we got to the Changs' apartment? Or were you just going to kill them yourself? . . . And us too?"
Coe swallowed. "I'm not saying another word to you. I want to talk to a lawyer."
"You'll have plenty of time for that. Now, right hand on the door handle. It moves off by one inch, I'll park one in your arm. Understand me?"
"Listen--"
"Understand me?"
The Ghost looked at her flinty eyes and felt a chill himself. He wondered if she hoped the man would reach for his gun so that she could shoot him.
"Yes," Coe muttered, furious.
"Left hand, thumb and index finger only, on your weapon, grip first. Move real slow."
Disgust on his face, Coe carefully removed the weapon and handed it to her.
Yindao pocketed it and then said, "Out of the car." She opened her door and stepped out. Then she opened his, the pistol unerringly targeted on the agent's chest. "Slow."
He followed her out. She gestured him around to the sidewalk.
"Face down."
The Ghost's heart--which had been pounding like a bird trapped in a glass case--calmed slowly.
Afraid, you can be brave . . .
This was the height of irony, he reflected. He did indeed have Americans on the take, even within the INS--a hearing officer included, which is why he'd been released so fast and easily yesterday morning. But he didn't know the names of everyone his agents had bribed here. And, as Yindao had just explained to Coe, he rarely had direct contact with any of them. As for knowing the location of the Wus' safehouse in Murray Hill--Yindao herself had given that information away when she'd asked if he wanted to join them there.
Since Coe was apparently working for him, should he now try to save the man?
No, better to cut him off. The arrest would be a good diversion. And Yindao and the others would be less cautious thinking they'd caught the traitor.
He watched as, on the sidewalk, she expertly cuffed the agent, holstered her weapon, then pulled Coe roughly to his feet. The Ghost rolled down his window and nodded toward the apartment. "Do you want me to talk to the Changs?"
"That's not their place," Yindao said. "It's still a few blocks from here. I lied--I had to keep Coe off guard. I picked it because there's a police precinct house around the corner. They're going to hold him for the FBI to pick up."
The Ghost looked Coe over and added a dismayed tone to his voice as he said, "You were going to tell the Ghost where they were. Those children . . . you were going to let him kill those children. You're despicable."
The agent stared back angrily for a moment--until Yindao roughly led him to the corner, where she was met by three uniformed officers, who took him into custody. The Ghost glanced behind him and saw, at the end of the block, Yusuf's van idling at the curb.
Five minutes later Yindao returned, climbed in the car, fired up the engine. They resumed their drive. She looked at the Ghost and shook her head with a grim laugh. "I'm sorry. Are you all right?" Although the incident had shaken her some, she now seemed more like herself. Relaxed and confident.
"Yes." The Ghost laughed too. "You handled that perfectly. You're quite an artist at your profession." His smile faded. "A traitor within the INS?"
"All that crap about the Ghost killing his informant. He suckered us." She picked up her cell phone and made a call. "Okay, Rhyme, Coe's in custody at the precinct . . . . No, no problems. John and I are going on to the Changs' now . . . .Where're the teams? . . . Okay, I'll be there in three minutes. We're not going to wait for ESU. The Ghost could be on his way there right now."
He could indeed, the snakehead reflected.
Yindao hung up.
So they would be there before everyone else. His liaison with Yindao would not have to wait after all. He'd kill the Changs, get Yindao into the Turks' van and escape. The Ghost's hand went to her shoulder and squeezed it. He felt his erection grow even more powerful.
"Thanks for coming along, John." She smiled at him. "What do I say for 'friend,' 'Yindao'?"
He shook his head. "That's what a man would say to a woman. You would say, 'Yinjing.' "
This was the word for male genitals.
"Yinjing," she said.
"I'm honored," he said, bowing his head slightly. He looked over her red hair, her pale skin, her long legs . . . "Your friend Rhyme is quite a detective. I would like to visit him after all this is over."
"I'll give you a card. I have one in my purse."
"Good."
Rhyme would have to die too. Because the Ghost knew that he also was a man who would never stop until he'd defeated his enemies. Po fu chen zhou. . . . Break the cauldrons and sink the boats. Too dangerous to stay alive. She'd told hi
m that he was paralyzed. How could one torture him, the Ghost wondered. His face, eyes, tongue . . . There would be ways, depending on how much time he had. Fire was always good.
Yindao turned abruptly down a one-way street and stopped. She examined the address numbers and then continued halfway down the block. She double-parked and left a police ID on the dashboard.
"That's the house there." She pointed to a three-story, redbrick house several doors away, the lights on in the ground-floor apartment. Modest but, the Ghost reflected, far more luxurious than the yellow-and-beige clapboard or cinder-block houses for which so many Chinese have Mao to thank.
They climbed out of the car and walked to the sidewalk, paused. "Stay out of sight," she whispered and led him close to a line of boxwood hedges. The Ghost glanced back. Yusuf had parked and, through the faint dusk light, the Ghost could just see him and the other Turk.
He leaned close and smelled scented soap on her skin and sweat. He found his arousal unabated and he pressed against her arm and hip as she examined the house. She nodded at the bay window in front. "We'll go through the back door--if it's unlocked. They'd be able to see us from the front and might run."
She gestured him to follow her around the back of the house nearest them, then together they cut through the backyards to the Changs'. They moved slowly, so they wouldn't knock into anything in the near-dark and announce their presence.
At the back door of the piglets' apartment they paused and Yindao looked into the window--at a small kitchen. No one was inside. "Always look through the back window first," she whispered. "My new police tactical rule." She smiled wistfully at this--though she didn't explain why.
"Come on," she said. "Move slow. Don't startle them. Tell them right away we're here to help. We want to protect them from the Ghost. And tell them there's a good chance for asylum."
The Ghost nodded and tried to imagine what their reaction would be when Sam Chang and his wife saw who the police translator was.
Yindao tried the door. It was unlocked. She pushed it open quickly--so it wouldn't squeak, he supposed.
How should he handle this? he wondered. He realized that he should probably debilitate Yindao immediately. She was too much of a risk merely to threaten. The best thing to do, he decided, was to shoot her in the leg--the back of her knee would be ironic, he decided, considering her arthritis. He and the Turks would kill the Changs. Then back to the Windstar. They would speed to a safehouse or a deserted warehouse somewhere, for his hours with Yindao.
They walked silently through the small, stifling kitchen.