There had been a massive, early morning traffic jam on all approaches to the Brooklyn and Manhattan Bridges, forcing Michelle Qwan to abandon her cab near Boro Hall in Brooklyn and run three blocks to the subway, where she caught a D train into Manhattan.
She got off near Washington Square and saw the billowing clouds of black smoke coming from Houston Street a few blocks to the south. She tried calling her Kohai on her cellphone again but got no answer. She ran all the way to Houston Street.
She arrived at the crimescene to find four NYFD trucks already there, along with a a dozen or more RMP cruisers and four paramedic rigs.
The firetrucks were busy hosing down what was left of the Hacker Queen's apartment building. A couple of dozen sleepy, displaced residents were lined up on the opposite side of Houston. Despite the early hour, quite a crowd had shown up to watch the festivities.
Qwan slipped through the crimescene tape which kept the crowds a good half block away. That got her noticed by a uniformed cop.
"Hey, babe!" He waved his nightstick at her. "Other side of the tape!"
She showed him her credentials. "Inspector Qwan, with the ICPO."
"That ain't no New York tin."
"No shit. I said ICPO. That's Interpol. I need to see the primary officer in charge."
"That'd be Capt'n Stacey. Over dere."
Qwan nodded and headed over to where an older, plainclothes cop was directing operations. Captain Stacey, huh? Amanda had mentioned a Captain Ned Stacey of the Major Case Squad, who hadn't been able to control the illegal doings of either the late Lt. Hodges or Sgt. Spinelli.
As she approached, Stacey was talking to a FD battalion chief still wearing smoked up firegear. "... and get all those fuckin' crispy critters bagged and tagged and down to Bellevue ASAFP, got it?"
The fireman nodded and took off.
"Captain Ned Stacey?" Qwan asked.
Stacey looked at her. He was late fifties, with close-cropped white hair and washed-out blue eyes. Those eyes narrowed as he took her in.
"Yeah, who the fuck are you?"
He already knows who I am! Qwan thought. She showed him her shield anyway. "Inspector Qwan, with Interpol."
He shrugged. "I'm kinda busy here, lady. You got something to say, say it."
"I want to know what the hell happened here, Captain," Qwan replied. "Eight hours ago I left my partner and a confidential informant of the FBI up in that apartment building... the one with the big holes and the smoke coming out of it now."
He studied her. "Okay. Awhile ago, two of my men from the Major Case Squad tracked down a crew of independent hitters from Miami. We think they were the ones behind that massacre at the Plaza Hotel the other night where ten cops were killed."
"Really?" Qwan replied. "Do continue."
"This crew was after someone in this apartment building. Whoever was in 4-C. We're checking with the landlord now. Dere was some kinda firefight up there, that much we do know. Some explosions, mebbe grenades. FD says there's a least nine or ten bodies up there. All burned beyond recognition."
"Go on."
"My two men got here just as one of these hitters killed an unarmed woman. They returned fire, but not before he killed one of the cops and wounded the other. These assholes were armed with MAC-10s on full auto." Stacey took a breath. "The wounded cop finally capped the shooter."
"I want to see the body of the dead woman."
"Shure." he led her down the alleyway to a body draped by a rubber tarp. Blood had already leaked out from under it.
Michelle Qwan pulled back the tarp and was ashamed of herself for actually feeling a surge of relief that it was the body of Amanda the Hacker Queen and not that of her Kohai, Yukari.
"Damn." Qwan fought down the sick feeling in her gut and tried to be a cop. She looked at the twenty-plus bulletholes in Amanda's chest and face. 9mil at full auto from the grouping and the plethora of spent brass.
"There was no purse or ID on her," Stacey said. "You got a name for this piece of swiss cheese?"
"Her name was Amanda Frasier," Qwan replied tightly. "She was the CI for an FBI agent named Joe Killian."
"Yeah, I heard that fed bought it last night over'n Brooklyn," Stacey said. "Now what about this missing partner of yours?"
"Her name's Yukari Mei Awai, she's a Japanese national, also on assignment with Interpol," Qwan said. "Female, Asian. Five foot nothing. 100 pounds. Short black hair and brown eyes."
"Nope, ain't seen hide nor hair of her," Stacey said. "'Course she could be one of them crispy critters upstairs..."
Qwan looked at him sharply. "Anybody else see how this woman died?"
"Like I said, that crew o'crazy Cubanos did her." Stacy nodded over at another tarp draped DB off to the left. "He shot her, two of our guys shot at him. He returned fire and killed one cop and wounded the other, finally the cop put him down. Like I said."
"But no other witnesses, right?"
"We don't need any more witnesses, Inspector."
Qwan checked the dead Cuban who had been blown to pieces by a double shotgun blast at close range.
"Where's the dead cop?"
"Already gone," Stacey snorted. "We don't let dead heroes lie in the streets."
"Yeah, right." Qwan frowned. "Where's the wounded cop?"
"Up at St. Vincents getting worked on."
"He have a name?"
"Detective Sergeant Salvadore Spinelli of the Major Case Squad," Stacey replied. "His partner Gerald DeAngelo was the one killed."
"Hmmm... wasn't Spinelli the first cop on the scene of the Plaza shootout? And also the cop who's been trying to connect Detective Sue Kaminsky to those murders?" Qwan looked at Stacey.
"Yeah."
"Small world."
"Now look, Inspector..."
"And which cop removed a purse or carryall from Amanda Frasier's dead body?"
"I tole you, she didn't have no purse," Stacey said. He was getting pissed now.
"She did when she died." Qwan pulled back the tarp over Amanda's body once more. "It was matted in the blood just off her left hip. See? Also, when one of your cops pulled it off her, he left a bloodtrail running clear across the alley to where those cop cars are parked."
Stacey said nothing as Qwan gently replaced the tarp over Amanda's body, then started walking down the alley towards Houston.
"Hey! Wait up, Qwan!" Stacey hurried after her. "Where the fuck do you think you're going?"
"For starters I'm going to have a talk with your hero cop, Sergeant Spinelli. Can't wait to hear his version of reality."
"I don't think so, bitch!" Stacey finally reached Qwan and grabbed her by the arm, swinging her around to face him.
An instant later, Stacey was gasping for breath while Qwan's right hand was digging deep into his throat, her thumb over a particularly vital pressure point.
Instantly, four plainclothes cops lounging around their cars started for Qwan, going for their guns.
"You picked the wrong day to fuck with me, asshole," Qwan growled. She palmed the Glock she had taken off of Emma Blackbyrd and ground it into Stacey's ribs. "Now tell your mooks to back off or you're dead."
Stacey looked around and waved off his cops. They stopped and finally backed down, holstering their pieces. He struggled and her grasp tightened on his throat.
"Leeeeeme go!" Stacey croaked. "Or you'll never see your partner again!"
She released him. "What'd you say?"
"You heard me!" He leaned against a brick wall trying to get a breath. "We have your partner! She got outta that apartment alive and we took her! Here's proof!"
Stacey tried reaching for something, but Qwan got to it first. it was an embossed leather case that held Yukari's silver Tokyo Police shield and ID.
Qwan pocketed the case and the Glock and stared at Stacey with a new found malice.
"Yeah," he wheezed. "We got her."
"What's this 'we' shit," Qwan snarled. "You got a mouse in your pocket or are you working for someone?"
"Fuck you."
Qwan punched him in the gut so fast and so ruthlessly that no one saw it. Stacey crumpled to the ground in sudden, incredible pain.
"Keeeeeerist... my ulcer!"
"You may be a police captain, but I have a feeling you're just the goddamn messenger boy around here," Qwan hissed in his ear. "Now who's running this show? Spinelli?"
Stacey nodded weakly. "Yeth..."
"And where is Officer Awai now?"
"He-He had her taken... She's with somebody named Valerie Corder," Stacey gasped. "You fuck with us and you'll never see that lil' Jap cunt again! She'll be dead... or worse."
Dead or worse. Qwan could see those two options when one was a prisoner of Valerie Corder.
"I want to talk to her," Qwan said. "Right now."
Stacey shook his head. "She's still enroute... gimme your cell number and you'll hear from her."
"So what is it you assholes want of me?"
"Stay outta this investigation and keep away from the Feds. Do that and she'll be returned unharmed. Otherwise..."
"Yeah yeah." Qwan dragged Stacey up by his lapels and placed her forearm into his neck hard enough to make his eyeballs bulge. "Now listen up, messenger boy, I have a communique I want you to deliver to both Spinelli and Corder." She pinned him with her dark eyes. "From this moment on, anything that happens to Yukari Mei Awai happens to all three of you. So you'd better keep her healthy. Or else."
Stacey nodded. "Then its a deal?"
Qwan stepped back and handed her business card with her cellphone number to Stacey. As he took it, Qwan kneed him in the balls and walked away, leaving him crying and whining on the pavement. That was the closest she could get to saying yes.
The cops let Qwan elbow past them. She kept walking west on Houston for two blocks, finally getting into a Yellow Cab just as it was disgorging sone yuppies in front of a coffeeshop.
The young Nigerian cabbie who was bopping to a native tune over an AM radio looked at her. "Where to, lady?"
Where to, indeed? Qwan thought. "Rockefeller Center at Sixth Avenue." She finally replied. She still had a rendevous with Jeb Stuart at the Canadian Consulate.
She leaned back in the back seat as the taxi rocketed away, trying to get an inkling of what her next move might be.
Letsee... what can I fuck up and who can I manage to get killed next?
Her cellphone chirped and she checked the caller ID. It was Joe Killian. Well that's a good trick, Qwan thought. I wonder if he's calling long distance?
"Hello?"
"Michelle! Don't hang up! This is Joe! Joe Killian!"
"Well I'll be damned." Qwan felt a wave of relief. "You're alive."
"Yeah, I decided to fly under the radar for awhile," Killian answered. "Thought I might get somewhere if the badguys think I'm off the board."
"Not a bad plan," Qwan felt her voice break. "I am... so glad you're alive."
"I'm really sorry, Michelle," Killian said. "You were supposed to stay with Kudlow at the hospital. I wanted you in on this."
"No apologies neccessary, Joe," she replied.
"So have you picked up Hacker Queen and Yukari yet?"
Qwan opened her mouth but couldn't find the words.
"Michelle?"
"Joe... the Hacker Queen is dead. She was killed about an hour ago."
Silence. A buzzing on the signal.
"Joe?"
"How'd it happen?"
"NYPD claims an independent crew of hitters from Miami shot up and then blew up the Hacker Queen's apartment," Qwan said. "Lucky thing a couple of Major Case Squad detectives were on the scene."
"Lemme guess. Spinelli?"
"He was one of them," Qwan said. "Now they're saying this crew were the same perps who shot up the Plaza the other night."
"I bet," Killian said. "Any survivors?"
"Not a one," Qwan said. "Spinelli gets to be the wounded hero cop while his partner supposedly got killed by one of the perps. But the crimescene looks all wrong."
"What about Hacker Queen and Yukari?"
"I know they both made it out of the apartment. My guess is they met up with Spinelli and his partner in the alley by the dumpsters," Qwan said. "That's where Amanda bought it, shot to pieces by one of the perps weapons, a 9mil MAC-10."
"And Yukari?"
"I think she took out Spinelli's partner," Qwan said. "She then shot up Spinelli. He's in St. Vincent's Hospital right now getting worked on."
"So where is she now?"
"Valerie Corder has her now," Qwan said. "Spinelli had some of his boys deliver her. She stays alive as long as I stay clear of the investigation."
"And who told you this?"
"Captain Ned Stacey of the MCS. Seems he's also Spinelli's lapdog. He thinks you're dead too."
"Right, with me dead and you out of the way, that leaves him able to blame the Plaza hit on these maricon Cubans... and for Corder and her new gf Lucrezia Scagnetti to pretty much own this city."
"That's the plan."
"Well those two fuckin' bitches are in for a rude goddamn awakening," Killian growled. "Now listen, I need for you to go right to the US Courthouse at Foley Square and find the offices of an Assistant US Attorney named Chalmers. Kudlow is already there. You can lay low there until we get back your partner."
Now it was Qwan's turn to be silent. She watched the traffic outside her window for a long moment. The taxi was now going north on Broadway, past the old monied buildings of Gramercy Park.
"Michelle?"
"Joe, I can't just... sit somewhere and do nothing," Qwan said gently. "Besides, Yukari is more than my partner..."
"Yeah, I know. That whole... sempai and kohai thing..."
"I'm responsible for her," Qwan said. "I got her into this mess. I Have to get her out of it."
"Yeah. Like I got the Hack... I mean, Amanda into this," Killian said. "Only I got her killed. Michelle, if something happens to you..."
"I gotta do this, Joe." Qwan said. "I'm going under the radar just like you. I've done this before. I'm good at it. If I need you, I'll call."
"Michelle, wait! Don't..."
Michelle Qwan hung up.
***
Listening in on a cell phone conversation is a little like sorcery. You need good tools, but you also need a little luck, a little skill and it doesn't hurt to have a god smile on you.
Morrigan the Huntress didn't know which combination she had achieved, but it had worked out to where she had heard most of Michelle Qwan's conversation with this Killian fellow.
Morrigan sat back in the black leather comfort of her Porsche 911 roadster, while her driver and confidant Ms. Hooks deftly wove the car through uptown traffic as she endeavored to keep up with the taxi cab that was carrying Michelle Qwan.
Morrigan's ability to find the elusive Ms. Qwan had been more than even a sorcerer's luck. Early this morning, it had been Morrigan who had impersonated a certain lovely, young Italian waitress at a certain hole-in-the-wall coffeeshop in Little Italy.
A wireless microphone attached to the bottom of a plate of breakfast biscotte had let her in on the dark plans of both Det. Sgt. Spinelli and Corder's musclegrrl, Linda Hansen.
"Aye, tis working out better than I could've hoped, Ms. Hooks," Morigan said, the little black box and headphones still in her lap.
"Howso?" Ms. Hooks deftly shifted gears and steered with the shiny pair of stainless steel hooks that acted as her hands.
"Now the good Inspector and m'self are no longer working at cross purposes," Morrigan replied. "We have a common enemy... and a common goal."
Ms. Hooks chuckled. "Riiiiight... now all you have to do is convince her not to kill you on sight."
Morrigan frowned. "Ach! Sometimes, lass, you're no help a'tall!"
***
Yukari Mei Awai woke up to a crashing headache as she also realized she was bound up hand and foot, gagged with an awful tasting rag, and in the pitch black trunk of a rapidly moving car that was no doubt taking her to her doom.
She sat there and couldn't help replaying the death of Amanda over and over again in her head. She found herself sobbing uncontrollably and soon she was almost unable to breath with the gag filling her mouth.
She finally blew her nose and snotted all over herself while pulling as hard as she could on the damnable plastic cord ties that had her at wrists, elbows, ankles and knees.
No, dammit. Cryng and mourning Amanda wouldn't get her out of this fix. She had to think! She had to do! Don't react... Act!
What would her Sempai do?
She could tell from the stop-n-go driving that the car she was in was still in the city. Where were they taking her? To sleep with the fishes likes those American gangster movies? Or worse?
Yukari was small and the trunk of the Ford Crown Vic was huge. She rolled onto her tummy and tried bending her legs back so that her sneakers were wavering by her bound hands.
In the dark, her numbed-out fingers found the pants leg of her jeans, then her right sock and finally her right ankle that had a sheathed knife with a three-inch blade strapped around it.
She pulled the knife free. It was 440, benchmade stainless with a double-edged, razor sharp blade that went through the plastic cord binding her ankles like a hot knife through butter. It did equally well with the cord at her knees.
Yukari reversed the blade and sawed at the bindings at her wrists. Slice, snap and pop. Now all that was left was the cord that cinched her elbows together.
And that was the kicker. There was just no way she could reach the fucker. She twisted and turned and bumped her head on the trunk lid - cursing in a mix of Japanese and English - but the last bit of plastic cord that kept her helpless remained elusive. She couldn't even get that fucking wad of cloth out of her mouth!
She froze as she felt the car now going in tight, descending circles. Chiksho! They're going down into an underground carpark! Yukari thought. The final destination on this particular ride was fast approaching.
Grunting in pain and frustration, Yukari felt along the edge of the trunk lid, finding a wad of bundled wires attached to the steel. She reversed the blade and tried jamming the handle into the wires, so it would stay put with the blade facing out.
She backed into the blade and started sawing at the plastic cord at her elbows.
***
Linda Hansen smoked a hand-rolled joint while she waited for Spinelli's cops to arrive with who he had claimed would be Qwan's partner. Personally, she had her doubts.
She was waiting in another deserted, underground parking garage in midtown Manhattan. She was kinda happy that things had gone to shit for Spinelli. Despite his status as co-conspirator in both Valerie Corder's and La Donia Scagnetti's criminal doings, she had never liked nor trusted him.
The blue and white RMP cruiser gave a whooop! of it's siren as it squealed around the corner to Linda's level, also scaring the shit out of her. Goddamn cops, she thought. She couldn't even stand to be around the crooked ones.
The cop car pulled to a halt beside her black BMW 323i. Two uniformed officers got out.
"You Hansen?"
She put out the doobie. "Yeah."
"Got sumpin' for you." The two cops went around to the trunk while Linda kept her distance. One cop was a very fat, balding pig of a man. The other was younger, and looked like a greasy punk. New York's finest, my ass! Linda though.
"The little bitch was bangin' around sumpin' fierce," the fat cop said as he unlocked the trunk. He frowned when the trunk lid wouldn't release. He bent down to yank it open, which is when the lid was kicked open from the inside, catching him hard in the face.
Yukari Mei Awai rose out of the trunk like an avenging angel with her knife in one hand and a tire iron in the other. She arched forward and sliced the fat cop clean across his belly with the knife.
The cop screamed and stumbled back. He was too fat to wear a kevlar vest, and now he was desperately trying to keep his guts from spilling out all over the floor of the garage.
His partner went for his piece. Yukari hopped out of the trunk and swung the tire iron at his gun hand, breaking bones and letting his Glock clatter to the pavement. She then sliced him across the left side of the neck, ventilating the cartroid artery and sending a geyser of blood a good fifteen feet out into the air.
Fat cop was sitting on the concrete, his guts spilled out over his lap. Greasy punk cop got about ten more steps before he dropped dead.
Yukari was reaching for the dropped Glock when a silencered bullet howled off the pavement, inches from her fingers.
"Not so fast, babe." Linda Hansen stood a good twenty feet distant, safely out of range of Yukari's improvised melee weapons. "Back off from the piece and drop your toys!"
Yukari studied the tall, black leathered woman before her that held a silencered Hk-23 SOCOM pistol pointed right at her.
Yukari took a deep breath and complied.
"Gooooood girl," Linda said. "Now take five steps to your right."
Yukari did so.
"Y'know, up until about a minute ago, I had real doubts that you were Qwan's partner." She looked at the two cops lying on the bloody garage floor and grinned. "Not anymore though!"
Yukari stared at her, saying nothing.
"Okay, babe," Linda continued. "The truth is that I need you alive. So just do as I tell you... or I'll kneecap you in both legs." She kept the pistol trained on her. "First thing, get naked. I don't want any more surprises out of you."
Yukari seemed to hesitate, but then pulled off her own bloodied top, exposing her bra and her bruised chest and forearms. She kicked off her shoes and socks, wiggled out of her tight jeans and her panties. She finally unhooked her bra and dropped it in front of her.
"Very nice." Linda licked her lips and looked over Yukari's pale, slender body. Bloody but unbowed... Valerie Corder is gonna like you just fine!
"Okay... now get bellydown on the deck and spread your arms and legs."
Yukari complied, the cold concrete numbing the pain of her bruises. Linda walked to her and placed her knee to the back of Yukari's neck. She holstered her pistol and yanked back Yukari's arms and used a set of hinged, blue-steel cuffs to connect her elbows, then another set of cuffs on her wrists.
A third set of cuffs was clicked around her slender ankles. Linda then took an oblong bicycle lock and bent back Yukari's body until she was grunting in new pain and her cuffed ankles were next to her cuffed elbows. Linda worked the bike lock through the cuffs and snapped it shut.
Yukari was now in a cuffed hogtie so tight she couldn't twitch.
"See, assholes?" Linda said to the two cops. "That's how you prep a girl for transport!"
"Chrrrrrist..." The cop with his guts all over the floor was still alive. "Call the fuckin' paramedics willya..."
"Sorry," Linda said. "No can do."
"Goddammit... Y'can't just leave me like this!"
"You're right about that." Linda picked up his partner's Glock in her leather gloved hand and shot him twice in the head, the reports echoing in the garage. She dropped the Glock and picked up Yukari by the elbows like the compact little package of girlflesh that she was.
Linda opened the trunk of her beemer and dropped Yukari inside. She then paused and took out her cellphone, punching in a number that Stacey had given her just a few minutes ago.
"Yes?" Linda recognized the voice and smiled.
"Good morning, Qwan," she said. "Do you know who this is?"
"Sure do."
"Things have changed since you bounced me around that interrogation room last night, haven't they?"
"Yes they have. Perhaps they'll change again before we're done."
"I hope so, Qwan," Linda could barely keep the malice out of her voice. "Because before this dance is over, we are gonna meet again.... and only one of us is gonna walk away."
"Suits me."
"Here, somebody wants to say hi."
Linda put the cellphone to Yukari's ear.
"Seeeeeempai..." Yukari gasped.
"Kohai, how badly injured are you?"
"Not bad..."
"Listen, I will get you out of this..."
"Only if you're a good little girl and do exactly as I say," Linda had brought the phone back to her own ear. "Stay clear of the cops and the feds. We'll contact you when we're ready to return your sweet lil kohai. Got it?"
"I understand."
"Good. Fuck up just once and I'll send this bitch back to you in chunks." Linda clicked off and sighed. The rage and anger she felt for Michelle Qwan was like a barely contained beast. She had a feeling it wouldn't be too long before it would be freed.
"Got some headgear for you, Yukari-chan," Linda said pleasantly, revealing to her the very same heavy leather head harness and ballgag contraption that she had been forced to wear only a few hours ago.
She had to reset the buckles to get it tight on Yukari's much smaller head, and the rubber ball was much to big for her mouth, but she finally wedged it in anyway.
Linda Hansen used some velcro straps to secure Yukari to the side of the trunk and then slammed the trunk lid down.
Five minutes later she was cruising uptown on Broadway, listening to Howard Stern on K-Rock, yukking it up with some bimbos.
It was only 7:41 am, but Linda Hansen had a feeling it was going to be a very interesting day.