The Inside Man Page 6

  “So I talked with Ryuki and he arranged for my security guard position. That made it easier to keep watch on Helen, and especially to keep watch over June. It’s why I had the night shift. During the day, I volunteered at June’s preschool. At night, I was keeping things normal for the two of them as much as I could.”

  Levi gave just the slightest hint of a smile. “Does your brother know you and Helen are a thing?”

  Yoshi’s complexion turned white. “How … no… Did Helen say—”

  “No, she didn’t. Your watch did.” Levi flicked his finger at the steel wristband of Yoshi’s watch. “Helen has a matching woman’s version of your watch. I’m thinking she couldn’t afford that kind of bauble on an FBI analyst’s salary.”

  Yoshi leaned forward and put his head in hands. “I’m such an idiot.” Then he sat up straight and looked at Levi with a worried expression. “It’s not like … I mean, one day I was checking in on her, and it just sort of happened. We both knew at the same time, but we also knew we had to keep it a secret.”

  Levi understood—Yoshi was worried what Tanaka would do if and when he found out. Yoshi had gotten involved with, in effect, the widow of the mob boss’s only son.

  He chuckled and patted Yoshi on the shoulder. “You have some balls on you, I’ll give you that. Is there anything else you haven’t told me? Anything about June or the mother? Anything. It may not seem important, but it could be.”

  Yoshi shook his head and spoke with a quavering voice. “No. I love that little girl as if she were my own. I’d give my life for either of them. I’ve told you everything I know.”

  “Good.” Feeling a small sense of relief, Levi leaned his head back against the headrest. He hadn’t been sure about Yoshi, but now, he mentally crossed him off the list of issues he had to resolve.

  Still, his mind raced with the next steps. He needed to juggle two completely separate cases at the same time. The sketch artist’s rendition of the Asian man loomed large in his mind.

  A visit to Chinatown was definitely in order.

  ###

  At midday Levi walked along the streets of Flushing, right around Fortieth Road in Chinatown. It was a mild late-autumn day, and the streets were crowded with people, but the only non-Asians among them were a couple of ConEd folks working on an electrical panel on the side of a building.

  Normally, Levi wore the family uniform, which for a made guy like himself consisted of a tailored suit and Italian loafers. But, today wasn’t a normal day. He was on the prowl, and he needed to blend in, so he’d dressed like a tourist: sneakers, jeans, a button-down shirt, and a Yankees windbreaker.

  For Levi, every part of the city had its own unique signature—a sound, a smell, and even a feel that was unmistakably its own. Here, that signature included the scents of ginger, soy, and star anise, and amid all that, the smell of a hot dog stand hidden behind a panel truck with Chinese characters on its side.

  But today these streets felt … different. Gloomy, even during a bright and sunny day. It was as if some invisible cloud of oppression hung over the area. As if everyone in the neighborhood was having their energy sapped from them.

  As he walked slowly along the narrow street, Levi’s eyes darted back and forth, looking for his target. Plenty of people stared right back at him from the shade of the awnings that hung over the entrances to the local shops. None of these people caught his attention.

  And then he spied the girl—just a wisp of a thing.

  She was probably no more than eight or nine years old. Certainly prepubescent. Yet, she wore gaudy eye makeup, garish lipstick, and a barely-there miniskirt with her right shoulder exposed to the fifty-degree weather.

  Levi gritted his teeth. This was one of the girls he’d heard of in this part of town. A sex slave. Maybe a refugee from Cambodia, Vietnam, or China. This kind of stuff shouldn’t be happening. Not here. Not in his town. His stomach churned with a mixture of disgust, fury, and sadness.

  He pulled out his cell phone and pretended to look something up, but really he was focusing the camera on the girl. He zoomed in.

  He saw the goosebumps on her skin as she stared longingly at the nearby hot dog stand.

  He snapped a picture and put the phone away.

  Then he walked across the narrow street, handed the man working the hot dog stand two bucks, and said, “I’ll take a dog.”

  The vendor fished the hot dog from the steaming water, put it into a warm bun, wrapped it, and handed it to Levi. “Thank you, sir.”

  The girl was now staring right at him.

  He walked over to her and handed her the hot dog. “Here you go, dear. Have a snack.”

  The girl stared wide-eyed at the gift lying in her hand—but she seemed frozen, uncertain what to do.

  “Go ahead, eat it,” Levi said in his best Mandarin. He had no idea what language the girl spoke.

  A man materialized out of the shadowy recesses between two buildings, and yelled something in a dialect of Chinese that Levi wasn’t familiar with, and stalked menacingly over.

  The girl looked up at the intimidating man, fear enveloping her face.

  The man slapped the food to the ground and growled at Levi with a thick Chinese accent. “Fifty dollars, not hot dogs. You want a fuck, it is fifty dollars. Girl top notch. First class.”

  Levi’s body stiffened as the man walked closer, raising his voice. “Fifty dollars, white boy. You owe fifty dollars. Pay me.”

  Clenching his fist, Levi spat out, “I don’t fucking owe you jack shit.”

  He felt a hand touch his shoulder, and he turned to see an attractive Asian woman standing inches away. Her floral perfume enveloped him. “I was wondering when you’d get here,” she said with a smile. Then she leaned into him, snaked her arm around his neck, and gave him a firm kiss on the lips.

  Before Levi could even react, she grabbed his upper arm and began pulling him across the street. “You shouldn’t be here,” she whispered.

  The man who’d been acting as the little girl’s pimp screamed after them, again in an unfamiliar dialect. The woman yelled back at him over her shoulder as she led Levi away.

  Levi noticed that many of the merchants had fallen back into the recesses of their stores, only to be replaced by a new set of people. A rougher crowd seemed to be gathering. Likely members of a local street gang. Certainly members of the local Chinese tong.

  As the woman, whose grip was surprisingly strong, pulled him toward a storefront, Levi began to smile. Across the street, between a Chinese laundry and a fruit and vegetable stand, stood the man from the artist’s sketch. The sketch had been remarkably accurate, including the angry red scratches on his left cheek.

  Levi lost count of how many gang members the pimp’s ranting had brought out onto the street.

  The woman opened a door—an attached bell rang brightly—and pulled Levi through. “I’ll keep you safe.” She said.

  Levi couldn’t help but feel amused at the thought. He had two guns on him, both with fully-loaded magazines, and several knives, and he was quite capable of trading blows with most anyone he came across. Yet this woman was doing her damnedest to rescue him.

  The woman yelled a few words at an old man who was standing in the back of the store. He pulled aside a rack of clothing, revealing a metal door. Without releasing her grip on his arm, the woman entered a code on a number pad beside the door, and a snick came from the locking mechanism. She opened the door, pull him roughly forward into a spacious living area—far more luxurious than anything he’d have expected to find in this neighborhood—and slammed the door shut behind them.

  Levi stared at his “rescuer” with both amusement and astonishment. “Um, Miss—”

  She gestured toward a leather sofa. “Just sit down. You’ll be okay.” The woman pointed at a plush leather sofa in the twenty by thirty-foot room.

  His gaze followed the statuesque figure of the Asian dragon lady as she left the room. He shook
his head and studied his surroundings.

  The room was much more luxurious than any place he’d have guessed existed in this neighborhood. He sat on the sofa, and appreciated the firm yet giving nature of its cushions. It was very comfortable. The smell of tanned leather coming off the furniture along with the leather’s supple and fine-grained texture confirmed it to be a high-quality item. The decor was a mix of Asian and Western sensibilities. A few silk tapestries hung from the walls, very Chinese, yet the sofa and burnished walnut coffee table were quite Western. In fact, Levi wouldn’t be surprised if the sofa has been made in Italy.

  When the sound of a shower running came from somewhere on the far end of the apartment, he felt a sudden sense of amusement. A strange man was sitting in this woman’s living room, under unusual circumstances, and she was off to take a shower? He admired her moxie.

  After a few minutes, the woman returned. To Levi’s surprise, she was completely naked.

  As she padded nonchalantly across the room, Levi had to consciously remind himself to not let his mouth hang open. She had a dancer’s body—well-proportioned, muscular, and slender all at the same time. And accentuating her pale skin was one of the most complex and beautiful tattoos Levi had ever seen. It was an undulating Asian dragon that curved along the slopes and valleys of the woman’s fantastic figure.

  The woman removed a silk robe from an old-style wooden coat stand, wrapped it around herself, and asked, “Would you like some tea?”

  She spoke English very clearly, with what sounded like a slight Russian accent.

  “I suppose … sure, if it’s not too much trouble.” Levi stood.

  The woman immediately snapped her fingers and pointed to the couch. He sat right back down, puzzled yet desperately curious about this woman.

  Before long she was bringing over a tray with a tea kettle and two small Chinese teacups. She poured for the both of them and sat across the coffee table from him.

  He grabbed the hot cup of tea—and had a flashback of a time not that long ago when a beautiful woman had tried to poison him. But when he sniffed at the tea, and couldn’t detect anything odd, he sipped it. It was a very good black tea.

  “I saw what you did.”

  Levi tilted his head at the woman. “What do you mean? You mean argue with that man?”

  “No.” The woman waved dismissively. “You gave the girl some food. Why did you do that?”

  Levi sat back, surprised by the question. “I don’t know. I guess she looked hungry and I felt bad for her.”

  “Why?”

  “Why did I feel bad for her?”

  The woman nodded.

  He paused as he wondered who this woman was. She clearly wasn’t afraid to be alone with him. Far from it. And the way she had initially approached him, with the kiss … maybe she was a hooker? No, probably not. But maybe? Levi needed to be careful how he answered. He had no idea what this woman’s reaction would be to him saying that he simply hated the idea of a girl that young being on the streets.

  “It was cool outside, and she looked like she could use something warm to help her fight the cold.” It wasn’t a lie.

  The woman stared unblinkingly at him for a few long seconds. Then she nodded. “You’re a good man. That’s why I helped you.” She motioned toward the door they’d entered through. “You must wait here another twenty or thirty minutes. By then the boys will have gone on to more interesting things.” She drank the rest of her tea, stood, and without another word walked out of the room.

  Levi pulled out his cell phone to text Paulie to meet him at Denny’s, but found he had no signal in this building.

  It was about twenty-five minutes later when the mysterious woman reappeared. She was now dressed in regular street clothes.

  “The streets are clear,” she said. “Come with me.”

  Levi followed her to a door in the back corner of the room. She threw a few latches, then opened it to reveal a dark alley behind the building just off Fortieth Road.

  “You’ll be fine,” she said. “Just don’t come back.”

  Levi stepped through the doorway and turned to shake hands with the woman, but she backed into her apartment and closed the reinforced door with a finality that matched her words.

  Levi looked at his phone. He had full signal again. As he walked to the nearest subway station, he hit a number on speed-dial.

  “Ya?” The man’s voice responded.

  “Paulie, I’m about to send you a picture.”

  “Another kid?”

  “Yup. Same as before. This time in Flushing, Chinatown, next to a Chinese laundry.”

  “Got it. Hey, the guy I’d trust is out on the don’s business today. It’ll have to wait at least until tomorrow. Is that cool?”

  “Yup, just tell him to be careful. This is a tong lair, and they’ve got muscle on call. Let me know what it costs, I’ll cover it.”

  “Consider it done.”

  Levi hung up and glanced over his shoulder as he took the stairs down to the Main Street Station.

  Tonight he’d be meeting up with Mendoza’s killer.

  Chapter Five

  It was late in the evening, prime time for the seedier side of the city to come out. Levi unsealed a plastic bag that held the clothes he’d use for this kind of foray into the city. Tonight, Levi wasn’t one of the sophisticated elites of New York, strutting around in a fancy suit. As he removed the thread-bare pants and shirt from the sealed bag, the whiff of stale beer and urine hit him. This was always the tough part: getting used to the stink.

  He slipped the clothes on and looked at himself in the mirror. He hadn’t shaved that morning, but one day’s stubble wasn’t quite good enough to pass for a drunken homeless person. So he added a bit of face grease and a touch of makeup to add dirt in strategic places—like in the creases of his ears, the edges of his nose, and on the backs of his fingers and hands. He knew how to make himself into a passable bum.

  The phone rang and he put it to his ear. “Frankie?”

  “Ya, the place is ready. I’ve got a few boys waiting in there, so you shouldn’t have any trouble once the package arrives.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate the favor.”

  Levi hung up and double-checked himself in the mirror. His hair was now greasy and disheveled, and he looked like he hadn’t showered in months. It wasn’t a perfect disguise, but he was counting on the smell, which had the uncomfortably strong scent of ammonia coming from the urine, to keep most people from looking at him too closely.

  He slipped on the shoes, which were the part of the disguise he felt most proud of. They were so scuffed and torn that they looked like they were about to fly apart at the seams. In fact, the outer layer of the shoe was almost completely sewn together from fragments of a larger shoe. But underneath, Levi wore a sturdy and comfortable pair of walking shoes.

  Soon he would be strolling the streets, heading for the nearest subway entrance.

  ###

  Levi staggered into his position near the Chinese laundry he’d spotted earlier. The outside vents coming from the laundry’s dryers kept him warm, but also blew his stench toward the others in the street, who kept their distance.

  The type of people on the street at night were of a quite different sort than what he’d seen during the day: more hookers—none of whom, thankfully, paid him any attention—more customers for the hookers, and more gang members. Some of the gang members had set up games of checkers; others were drinking shots, and yelling at each other. Still others were brazenly selling drugs. He’d seen much worse in parts of China, but it bothered him to see this was happening in his own back yard.

  He’d done some research during the day, and had figured out that the dialect being spoken around here, both earlier and now, was Cantonese. He still didn’t understand any of it, but it at least gave him an idea of what part of the world some of these people were from. Likely the coast of China, or Hong Kong. Maybe these gangs were of
fshoots of the Triad. He knew what type of people they were, not that this surprised him. Anyone willing to exploit kids was already beneath contempt.

  Levi had spent nearly two hours lying in the alley, obscured by a large piece of cardboard acting as a blanket, before he spied his target.

  The man with the scratched face was laughing about something with a handful of others who’d been selling small packets of what he assumed was heroin or methamphetamine.

  Levi now covered his nose and mouth with a painter’s mask and pulled a ski mask over his head. He was ready for what was coming.

  When his target happened to glance his way, Levi purposefully sneezed, letting the cardboard slip slightly down, showing him lying in the shadows, and more importantly, revealing a wallet lying next to his body.

  Through half-closed eyes, Levi saw the man start walking toward him.

  When the man reached Levi, he looked side to side, smiled, and leaned down to pick up the wallet.

  Levi squeezed a bottle that almost instantly filled the alley with a cloud of mist.

  The man gasped with surprise, breathing in the mist, and lurched upward. Then with a gurgling sound he fell heavily to the ground.

  The mist was a potent anesthetic known as Sevoflurane—a chemical Levi had learned of during his brief interaction with some CIA operatives.

  Holding his breath, Levi grabbed the man by one arm, and lifted him into a fireman’s carry. He took him deeper into the alley, racing through the darkened corridor between buildings, and passed across several poorly lit streets. He was no more than a shadow flitting from one darkened corner of the city to another until he stopped at a doorway, knocked twice, paused, knocked once, and then three times.