The Chinese Woman: The Barbados Conspiracy Read online

  So far, he had only killed East Asians, most of whom were Chinese women. FBI behavioral analysts had been brought in to assist with profiling the killer, but no FBI agents had been assigned as investigators. The Seattle Police detectives were generally both skilled and competent, but they welcomed the addition of Sean and Gary, since little headway had been made. They had even been using ViCLAS for a year, a big improvement over ViCAP in tracking serial killers, but so far no hits, probably because not enough police agencies had adapted ViCLAS. DNA tests of the killer’s sperm had also revealed no suspects. Unfortunately, even though a national DNA database was in existence, still the great majority of DNA samples had not been submitted. If the Chinatown Killer had committed crimes elsewhere, which was quite probable, his DNA test may be sitting in some office in another state unavailable for comparison purposes.

  Sean and Gary agreed to join the JTF, even though they really had no choice. The decision had been made by SAC Jim Bridges two days earlier. Lucas, Sean and Gary spent the rest of the evening going over details of the case prior to a meeting with the JTF scheduled for the following day. Investigations of the Triads would have to be left to Sean’s other team members for the time being.

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  Most of Special Agent McNamara’s co-workers thought of him as the office cynic, which was probably understandable because it was true. He was the senior investigator and had by far the most experience of anyone in the Seattle FBI office except for the Special Agent In Charge, Jim Bridges. No one could ever call Sean naïve. In Sean’s eyes, if you were employed in the field of law enforcement, and weren’t a cynic, then you didn’t know what was going on, and investigating crime was no place for a clueless person.

  Sean had been a member of both the Royal Canadian Mounted Police and the Federal Bureau of Investigation and these two law enforcement organizations, along with Scotland Yard, were probably the most famous law enforcement organizations in the world. However, despite their fame and renown, Sean viewed these reputations as primarily bullshit. Although most of the officers in both the RCMP and the FBI were bright, competent and dedicated, Sean felt that both had an ample share of dummies within their ranks and more than a few ass-kissers. In fact, he had never been stationed anywhere that didn’t have one or more professional ass kissers on staff. If your main motivation was to get ahead, in either organization, ass kissing was a recommended tactic for advancement and it certainly seemed to achieve positive results. Very few of the dedicated ass kissers failed to attain their promotional goals.

  Sean felt that about five to ten percent of the population were criminal scuzzballs, as he called them, and nothing would ever change that. He wasn’t going to make the country safer or the world a better place to live; he had accepted that after about five years on the job. In fact, when his unit was successful in seizing a large quantity of drugs, the crime rate actually went up. Since the seizure limited the supply of drugs on the street, the price of available drugs went up, and since most people pay for their drugs by committing crimes, they had to commit more crimes to meet the higher price. Naturally, the moron politicians seeking votes from the naïve public, and the law enforcement executives who had never worked the streets, could not figure this out. Sean felt they were too dense or self-serving to ever devise a plan that would actually work to reduce America’s dependence upon illicit drugs.

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  Li Mei had no trouble locating Han Xia’s uncle’s restaurant, The Golden Dragon, since it was situated right on the corner of one of the main intersections in Chinatown. In fact, while going for walks to familiarize herself with Chinatown, she had seen the restaurant several times before but didn’t realize it belonged to Han Xia’s uncle.

  She entered the restaurant and a short, overweight, jolly looking Chinese man, who looked to be in his late sixties, met her and asked, with a friendly smile, if she would be joining friends. Li Mei told the man she was here to have lunch with a friend, Han Xia.

  “Ah, you must be Li Mei. I am Han Li, Han Xia’s uncle. She’ll be here in a moment. Let me introduce you to my sister, Han Fang,” he said.

  Han Fang looked to be about seventy-five years old, and although her skin was wrinkled and somewhat leathery, she had very young eyes, which seemed moist and this gave them a twinkle by reflecting the lights in the restaurant. Accompanying her attractive eyes was an engaging and genuine smile. Li Mei decided she liked Han Fang immediately. Li Mei was wary of almost everyone she met and people found it hard to penetrate the psychological barrier she had constructed to protect herself from conmen, players and professional intelligence agents. Li Mei had confidence in her ability to assess people for trustworthiness and honesty, and she decided that Han Fang was probably one of the good people.

  The old woman took Li Mei by the hand and lead her to a private table by the wall at the rear of the restaurant where Li Mei took a seat facing the front entrance with her back to the wall, a necessary habit for anyone in her occupation. She almost felt that she had been lovingly guided to the table by her grandmother.

  Just as she sat down, Han Xia appeared and extended her hand.

  “Good to see you again wode pengyou (my friend)”, said Han Xia. “I’m looking forward to hearing about your new life in America.”

  Han Xia ordered tea and both women exchanged recent experiences and brought each other up to date on their activities.

  “Not much exciting so far,” said Li Mei. “I’ve purchased my books and am busy setting up my thesis plan and research goals. I rarely leave my desk except for daily workouts at the university gym.” This, of course, was only partially true. Li Mei had spent a few hours on most days walking throughout Chinatown hoping to spot the man with the scar on his face, or any of his associates of whom she had been provided photos. She did not, of course, risk asking questions of anyone about Wu Xing. Being too inquisitive could make her a target, and the Mei Hua Triad was not an adversary to take lightly.

  “I was lucky enough to find employment as a taiji instructor,” said Han Xia.

  “I have been asked to teach at the Chinatown community centre”. Classes are held Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursday evenings and Saturday afternoons. It is a beautiful new building with Tang Dynasty architectural styling. I think it’s been here only one or two years. I do hope you will come and practice at our classes, Li Mei. It would be so enjoyable having you there.”

  “I will join the classes right away, although I won’t be able to attend every class. I must spend most of my time at research,” said Li Mei.

  “No problem. Classes start at seven o’clock. I hope to see you tomorrow,” replied Han Xia.

  “How did you get the job as taiji teacher?” asked Li Mei.

  “My aunt, Han Fang, had made the acquaintance of a man who occasionally came into the restaurant who is an executive at the Chinatown community centre and he told her that they were looking for an experienced taiji teacher, so I went there for an interview. The man who interviewed me asked to see me perform taiji and inspected my certificates. He said he was very impressed and gave me the job.”

  “What was his name?” asked Li Mei. “Was he too an expert in taiji?”

  Han Xia hesitated before answering. Why would Li Mei ask that question? What difference did it make?

  Li Mei noticed Han Xia’s hesitation, and added. “I just want to get to know more people in the Chinese community and who is running things. I was thinking of teaching folk dancing to children if I can find the time. I used to be very good but I haven’t danced for several years.”

  Han Xia decided Li Mei’s question was reasonable. “His name is Martin Fong,” she said with a smile as she touched Li Mei’s hand. “He doesn’t actually work at the center. I am told he is a wealthy businessman who contributes money to support the Chinese community. I don’t really know anything about him. He was just helping out when I came to the center to apply for the job.”

  Li Mei was quite satisfied that she was developing a relationship with Han Xia and attending her taiji classes would give her another excuse to maintain contact. Eventually, thought Li Mei, Han Xia will lead me to Wu Xing. She decided she would check out this Martin Fong. Could Han Xia be lying and Martin Fong could actually be her lover, Wu Xing?

  The women finished eating and exchanged a few more observations about the difference between life in America and life in China. Before leaving the restaurant, Li Mei sought out Han Xia’s uncle and his sister, Han Fang, thanked them both for their hospitality and told them the food at their restaurant was delicious; the best she had tasted since leaving China.

  As Li Mei left the restaurant, Han Xia watched her walk down the street. Who is this Li Mei, she thought? She asks a great many questions. Is she being too curious? Of course Li Mei had not asked anything unreasonable but Han Xia had become extra cautious since meeting Wu Xing.

  CHAPTER 6

  “Police report finding the body of an Asian woman in an undisclosed location in downtown Seattle. The woman’s identity has not yet been released pending notification of next of kin. Police officials have confirmed that they are investigating this death as a homicide but are releasing no further details about the exact cause of death. It is apparently too early to positively say if the woman was raped, but preliminary investigation indicates that the woman likely had been sexually assaulted. Channel Four News will provide updates throughout the day as more information becomes available.”

  The ongoing news of this serial killer caused a great deal of apprehension amongst the female students at the University of Washington, especially amongst the numerous Chinese students and their friends who often visited Chinatown. There was probably no one in the city of S
eattle who hadn’t engaged in discussions about this terrifying situation that had invaded their community. Although most people had confidence in the abilities of the Seattle Police, they were starting to get more edgy and frightened as this rapist-killer seemed to be able to avoid detection and arrest. The body count was now up to nine and people’s confidence in the Seattle Police was slowly starting to erode.

  Li Mei had been following this situation in Seattle’s Chinatown very closely over the past few weeks. There seemed little doubt that this killing was the work of a man the media had labeled the “Chinatown Killer”. Li Mei had not yet obtained a firearm, and due to the fact she would be spending considerable time in the Chinatown area looking for leads to Wu Xing, she decided to be extra cautious. She could not let a failure on her part to take normal precautions jeopardize bringing Wu Xing to justice.

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  Spending so much time in each other’s company, police and law enforcement partners invariably became very close friends. Since they are dependent on each other for survival, the resulting bond is often closer than man and wife. Few men are ever totally candid with their wives. Most male law enforcement officers wouldn’t dream of telling their wife that her new jeans made her ass look fat, but with a partner, they were always totally open and honest.

  Sean and Gary had many discussions about law enforcement and life in general. Although Gary’s civilian friends considered him to be a cynic he had to admit that his idealism was eroding fast. Law enforcement, particularly police work, had a way of grinding you down and dividing the world into “us and them”, them being crooks, thugs and naïve idiots. The best thing a law enforcement officer could do to avoid falling into this pit of cynical despair was to ensure all their friends had no connection to law enforcement. One of the worst things a young agent could do is to be Sean McNamara’s partner, although it certainly had its advantages. Riding with McNamara offered a junior partner a thorough education about life in general and the corruption, political backstabbing and incompetence of government and government agencies.

  Just as Sean McNamara had become Gary Webster’s mentor, although neither man would dream of using such a term, Sean had also had his own mentor. He often told stories of the “old Corporal” he was partnered with at Vancouver Surrey Detachment in the RCMP. This Corporal, Gord Shepardson, was known at the Detachment as “Shep” or often as not, “Old Shep”, and no one knew more about working the streets than Old Shep. A huge, muscular man of fifty-five, with a noticeable beer belly and a red nose, Shepardson had thirty years on the job. He had three main dislikes, of which he didn’t hesitate to tell anyone who would listen….judges, politicians and senior commissioned officers of the RCMP. Old Shep also detested pedophiles, but he considered them no worse than judges and didn’t cause near as much harm to society when you looked at the big picture. Instead of the pussy sentences, as he described them, handed out by Canadian judges, most criminals just need a good “tuning up” and then imprisoned on a work for food program. After Shep tuned them up, they were too scared to lay a complaint or go crying to their lawyer. If they were that foolish, they knew Shep would come looking for them.

  Riding with Old Shep day after day and night after night shaped young McNamara’s view of life and he was destined to be a true blue cynic himself. “Democracy doesn’t work,” preached Shep. “Eighty percent of people are idiots, and eighty percent of the people they’re voting for are idiots, so how can such a system work? The last politician that wasn’t a self-serving, lying crook, died on the cross,” he used to say whenever anyone started talking politics in his presence.

  FBI agent Sean McNamara visited his old friend, Lucas Schulz, at his office to provide him with his daily update on the JTF investigation and enjoy a morning coffee. Sean and Lucas had enjoyed sailing together, a sport that had become Sean’s greatest interest, but their planned sailing excursion this weekend would have to be rescheduled. Now that he and his partner, Gary Webster, had been temporarily assigned to the Violent Crimes and Major Offenders Section, and were members of the new “Chinatown Killer Joint Task Force” with local and state police and sheriffs, there would be little time for recreation.

  Lucas was intimately familiar with the case, of course, as he would be lead prosecutor as the investigation developed. Sean reported that the woman who was murdered yesterday was Chinese and they were fairly sure it was the work of the serial killer, although the DNA test results hadn’t been received yet. One thing the public hadn’t been told, however, is that there may have been a witness. This information would be released to the media soon because they would probably be asking for the assistance of the public in identifying the suspect.

  “A shopkeeper was closing up his store when he noticed a man talking to an Asian woman across the street from his store,” said Sean providing more details. “The woman had her back against the wall of a building and the man was engaged in animated conversation, as if asking for or giving directions. The shopkeeper didn’t think anything of it since they just seemed to be talking. He was too far away to hear their voices but he didn’t think their body language indicated it was anything but a friendly conversation. The woman was wearing a red skirt and high-heeled shoes, a white blouse and had short dark hair. That’s the exact description of the murdered woman, so we’d like to talk to this guy. If he’s not the killer, he may have been the last person to see her before she was killed.”

  “What did this guy look like Sean?” asked Lucas who knew of the incident but hadn’t yet read the file report.

  “Well the shopkeeper only saw him from the back, but he was wearing a brown or black leather bomber jacket and blue jeans. He was six feet or slightly under and was of stocky build. The shopkeeper noticed his neck was quite thick. This could mean he’s fat or maybe a weightlifter. He had light brown or dirty blond hair cut quite short, maybe a crew cut or military cut. Considering it was just starting to get dark, we’re pretty happy with the description. The witness is quite astute and very sure of what he saw. He’ll make a good witness if it ever comes to that. Of course, since he only saw him from the rear, we don’t know if the potential suspect had facial hair or even if he wore glasses. The witness didn’t think he was wearing glasses, but he wasn’t a hundred percent positive about that.”

  The police would not be quick enough to identify and locate the Chinatown Killer. He would soon strike again.

  The next morning, Sean was called into the office of Rex Benoit, Assistant Special Agent in Charge of the Seattle FBI Field Office. Benoit, with only ten years service in the Bureau, had only been transferred to the Seattle office six months ago, but that was plenty of time for Sean to realize he was a self-serving moron. Benoit’s father was a senior Assistant Director of the FBI and there was no doubt that Benoit, one day in the not too distant future, would also be a member of upper management in the Bureau.

  Rex Benoit had great difficulty passing the physical tests while training as a rookie at the FBI Academy. He had been soft and weak, having lived a pampered life, but he had managed to graduate in the bottom twenty-five percent of his class. The training had toughened him up, but as ten years had passed, he was again soft, weak and bordering on obese. He wore expensive suits that disguised his narrow chest, wide hips and pot belly quite well.

  “Have a seat Sean,” said Benoit after Sean had already sat down. Sean liked to do this because Benoit expected everyone to stand until he gave them permission to sit.