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  A single guard watching the kitchen perched on a stool in one corner. He stared at the two masked men for too long, too slow to react. His pistol had just cleared his holster before a double burst of 9mm rounds sent him flying back into the wall. The gunfire cut through the conversation like a knife, and every man turned to look at the intruders. One moved his hand toward a knife, but when Dante pointed his MP-9 at him, the man yanked his hand back, his glare doing what he wished to do with the blade.

  “Bravo to Able,” Dante said into his radio. “Kitchen secured. One Tango down.”

  “Copy,” Tanner replied. “Charlie Team, move in.”

  “Copy Prime,” Naomi said. “Charlie is moving. ETA twenty seconds.”

  Stephen placed the jammer on a counter, then pulled out a digital recorder, held it up and pushed a button. None of the team spoke Chinese, so there was a need to communicate with those illegals who couldn’t speak English. Vessler had a friend who spoke both fluent Mandarin and Cantonese Chinese, so he had recorded messages in both dialects for the team’s use. While the team couldn’t understand what was being said, they knew what the messages were; an appeal for those Chinese who were working as slaves to leave with the team and escape the Triad’s clutches. As they surveyed the crowd, both Stephen and Dante noticed some of the servers and a couple of the cooks perk up with interest. Many of the other kitchen staff, mostly older men, looked at the masked intruders with fear, but a couple of the others’ expressions were undisguised hate.

  After the messages finished, one of the servers stepped forward, hands up. “You are here to help us?”

  “You can speak English?” Stephen said.

  “Yes, I took English in school in China.”

  “What is your name?”

  “I am Ko Chan.”

  “How many of you are here are being held against your will by the Triad?”

  Chan looked back at the group. “Most of us,” he said. He pointed at some of the staff. “They not held against their will.”

  Stephen motioned to the dead guard near the wall. “Any more guards down here?”

  “He is the only one down here all the time. There are three others upstairs.”

  “All right, tell your friends who want to leave to stand over there.” Stephen flicked his MP-9 to the right.

  Ko turned and began speaking rapidly in Chinese. As he did so, Naomi said over the radio, “Charlie to Bravo. We’re at the gate. Moving to the back door.”

  “Copy.” Dante stepped back so he could see the open back door. In a few seconds Naomi appeared in the doorway, waving. Dante waved back.

  Ko turned around. “They are ready.”

  “One last thing I need you and your friends to do,” Stephen said.

  “What?”

  Stephen took out a pack of riot cuffs and tossed them to Ko. “I want you to restrain those people who don’t want to come along. We’ll make sure they cooperate.” He hefted his gun.

  Ko nodded eagerly, then turned and spoke to the others. In less than two minutes, the remaining kitchen staff were bound by their wrists and ankles, then secured to table legs or other immovable objects with more riot cuffs. A couple of them resisted, but a few blows from Ko’s comrades ended resistance quickly. Ko looked at Stephen. “Are you here for the girls, too?”

  “Yes. We have people upstairs handling that.”

  “What about those in the punishment cells?”

  “What punishment calls?”

  “There are cells down here.” Ko pointed down another hall. “They use them for new girls or to punish girls who defy them. No food, little water.”

  “Are there girls in the cells now?”

  Ko nodded. “Two, maybe three.”

  “Bravo to Able,” Dante subvocalized. “We have a complication. One of the staff speaks English and he’s telling us there are girls being held in cells down here.”

  “Get them all out,” Tanner replied. “Then get you asses up here, ASAP.”

  “Copy.”

  Stephen said to Ko, “Tell your friends to go out the back door. One of my team is there. A truck is waiting at the gate. Get in it and wait.”

  “Yes.” Ko spoke rapidly to the others and in a matter of seconds, the kitchen was a lot less crowded. Ko was the only one of the freed illegals remaining. “I will help you get the girls from the cells.”

  “Okay,” Dante said. “Stay behind us.” Then he subvocalized into his radio. “Three, I need to guard the kitchen and the hall.”

  “Copy.” Naomi appeared a few seconds later. “Go.”

  Dante and Stephen moved down the hall, which was fifteen feet long, dark, and had a cold, damp feeling to it. At the far end were two jail cell doors facing each other, cold gray steel solid doors with a pair of covered slots, one at eye level, the other at waist level. A set of keys hung on a wall hook a few feet from the door on the right. Stephen snatched the keys from the hook as they went by.

  They started with the door on the right. It took Stephen a couple of times to find the right key, one of six on the ring. The lock went thunk and the door opened. Dante went in first while Stephen covered him from the doorway. The cell was small, the size of a walk-in closet. Two women lay on rickety cots, dressed in crude smocks that were little more than thin rags. The smell of sweat, human waste and dampness was strong and unpleasant. Chains bound the girls’ ankles. Both women were cringing, babbling in Chinese, and shielding their faces from the newcomers they thought were their captors.

  “Ko,” Date said. “Get in here.”

  It took three minutes of Ko talking to them to make them realize they were being rescued. In the meantime, Stephen used the keys to unlock the cuffs and help the girls to their feet. Neither was very steady, forcing Ko and Stephen to assist them. While they helped the two girls down the hall, Date unlocked the other jail cell. A third girl lay face down on a cot, chained to the wall and wearing a smock like the others. She didn’t move when Dante entered. He reached down and felt for a pulse. He found a weak, but steady one. When he lifted her arm, it was limp. “Bravo to Charlie. Send Eight in. I have an unconscious woman here.”

  Choi’s reply was immediate. “On my way.”

  By the time the DEA agent appeared at the cell door, Dante had unlocked her shackles and turned her over. He turned on his flashlight and hissed when he saw the victim’s battered face.

  “What?” Choi asked from the doorway.

  “She’s been worked over,” Dante replied angrily. “I need you to carry her out to the truck and stay there. We have to go help Able.”

  Choi lifted the slight woman into his arms. “I saw the other two when I passed them in the hall, and they looked like hell.”

  “She’s worse than they are. Get going.”

  #

  “Bravo to Able. We’re on our way up.”

  On the main floor, Tanner and Liam had separated the illegals from the ones who had been strong-armed into prostitution. The johns, madam, the doorman, and several of the older prostitutes sat against one wall of the main room, their wrists and ankles bound with riot cuffs. The freed slaves stood on the other side of the room, with Tanner and Liam standing in the doorway leading into the main hall. Tanner had forced the male clients to give up their coats and jackets, in order to cover all of the women. Tanner hadn’t heard any movement upstairs since they ordered those on the balcony to come down, but they hadn’t swept the bedrooms yet for any other occupants.

  Bravo team stepped into view from a doorway under the stairs. “We’re clear downstairs.” Dante put on a Cuban accent. “Three’s waiting at the bottom of the steps, and Seven’s at the back door.”

  “Sweep the rest of this floor,” Tanner said. “Two: go with them.”

  The three OUTCASTs were back minutes later, along with an Asian man, his hands bound behind his back.

  “Security room,” Liam said. “He surrendered quickly. Looks like the place is completely wired for video and sound — including all the bedrooms. Looks lik
e it’s independent of the security system, which means it’s still working. Plenty of video storage space.” He held up a messenger bag. “I pulled all the hard drives. Should be some interesting viewing here.”

  “You’re insane!” the madam hollered. “If you take those, not only will the Triad hunt you down, so will a lot of powerful people.”

  “Shut up, lady,” Tanner said, ignoring her indignant look and turning to Liam. “Leave by the stairs for now.”

  “Rest of the floor is clear,” Liam said.

  “Put the guard with the others, then send the women downstairs,” Tanner ordered. “We’ll sweep the other floors. Two, stay here and watch the Madam and her guests.”

  The prostitutes were hustled down the stairs. As soon as the last one disappeared through the doorway, Tanner moved to the stairs, followed by Dante and Stephen.

  There were two floors above the main floor, one for the clients, and the top floor where the women lived. The sweep through the second floor bedrooms found no one, so they moved up to the third floor. They found three more Chinese women hiding in the cramped rooms, and again utilized the recorded messages to entice them out and lead them downstairs.

  Once the new women were headed down to the basement, Tanner stood in the doorway and eyed the Madam. “I want you to give Billy Hong this message: We want Rhee Kyu-chul.”

  “Who?”

  “He’ll know who I’m talking about.”

  The madam glowered at him. “You have no idea what the Black Dao will do you,” she spat.

  “Hong will find out what we can do first. Remember, tell Hong that we want Rhee Kyu-chul, or we will take his entire empire down. His choice.”

  He turned to the others. “Let’s move.”

  #

  The team retreated down the stairs, grabbing the hard drives as they went. Naomi was waiting for them and they retreated through the kitchen, picking up the cell phone jammer on the way to the back door and out the gate. While the rest of them climbed into the back of the truck with the freed slaves, Tanner hopped into the front seat. Choi put the truck into gear and the moved away from the curb. He made a right at the intersection and accelerated, putting distance between the brothel and them.

  Tanner pulled off his balaclava. “Prime to all teams. Everyone okay?”

  Liam answered for the group. “We’re fine. Some of the prostitutes are going to need medical attention.”

  “Casey said there would be medics at the drop-off site. Vess, have you called your friend yet?”

  “As soon as the last prostitute was onboard,” the DEA agent replied. “She wasn’t happy to be woken up, but as soon as I told her why I was calling, she was on her way out the door before the conversation was over. I figure she and her news team will be there in fifteen minutes.”

  “I’ll make sure she gets the interviews with the prostitutes,” Tanner said. “But it’ll take a few hours to set up, and she’ll have to bring her own translator.”

  “Not a problem.”

  “Base: Once you get the videos we grabbed, set up an FTP site so Striker’s reporter friend can download the juicy stuff without tracing it back to us.”

  “Copy, Prime.”

  “Do you have the next target lined up?”

  “Sure do. Finalizing the details now. It’ll be tight, but you should be able to hit it and the next one before dawn.”

  “Good. I’ll contact you when we’re done delivering these people to safety.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  San Francisco

  2:00am

  Norman Kwan unlocked the front door and walked into his home. In the hallway, the grandfather clock rang twice, the bell sounding hollow in the empty house. He closed and locked the door behind him, then tossed the keys into the dish on the side table next to the door and walked into the living room.

  He was tired. It had been a long day that had started off hard and gotten progressively worse — meetings about the recent incidents, exhaustive discussions about increasing police funding, and making arrangements to personally attend a couple of the slain police officers funerals. It had been the most sober morning he’d ever had as a supervisor.

  Then the mayor’s attempted assassination destroyed the last vestiges of normality. The abrupt entry of several SFPD plainclothes detectives into his office while he was talking to the police chaplain was the first sign that the day had gone very, very wrong. His first thought was that he was finally being arrested for spying, but then the senior detective told him what happened to Nicholle Pagliei and that City Hall was on lockdown. He’d been immediately taken to a safe room, along with other city supervisors and senior administrators. They had sat there for hours, trying to piece together what had happened via TV news reports, social media posts and phone calls to anyone who might know what the hell was going on. By the time six o’clock rolled around, they were certain only of the most basic facts.

  Kwan had demanded to go to Saint Francis Hospital in order to visit the mayor. The detective in charge had demurred, but Kwan, already drained and stressed out, angrily put his foot down. Seeing no way out, the detective backed down, and they had ridden to Saint Francis in a convoy of half a dozen cars and two dozen armed police officers. The ride had been long enough for Kwan to regain control over his temper, and once they arrived at the hospital, he had apologized to the detective for his earlier outburst over demanding to see the mayor.

  The time at the hospital was filled with dread. Kwan had known Mayor Pagliei for fifteen years, and while her personality made it hard to like her, he respected her for her convictions. But seeing her in the bed, surrounded by monitors and IV bags, it was hard to reconcile that with the image of a tart-tongued politician who had been a force in the city for nearly two decades. After three hours, he was told to go home. Home he went to an empty house, with a police presence out front. The morning was going to be a mess – his mess. As President of the Board of Supervisors, he was now the acting mayor.

  “Congratulations, Mayor.”

  Kwan spun around, at first wondering who would be stupid enough to offer congratulations under such circumstances, but then he realized the words were Korean. Once he framed the speaker in that light, he recognized the voice instantly. Rhee stood there, a thin smile on his face.

  “How did you get in here? Police are all over the neighborhood.”

  Rhee snorted. “It wasn’t hard. I am trained. They are not.” His smile turned colder. “I didn’t even have to kill anyone.”

  “What the hell did you do? The city’s in an uproar. I spent thirty minutes on the phone with the President of the United States trying very hard not to give in to his request and declare a state of emergency. What are you trying to do?”

  “It was decided by the Marshal himself that it was time to increase your worth to Pyongyang.”

  Kwan felt the fear form in his stomach like a mini-iceberg. The Marshal — Kim Jong-un — was seen by most North Koreans as the closest thing to a living god. But Rhee had come to realize that the current ruler was no different from his father or grandfather — brutal men who ruled with an iron fist and punished entire families if one person stepped out of line. “By trying to kill the mayor? Are you thinking at all?”

  Rhee’s smile disappeared. “Are you questioning direct orders from the Marshal?”

  “I am asking for an explanation. The federal government wants me to declare a state of emergency so they can come down on you and the triads!”

  “The Triads are my concern, not yours. The mayor’s removal was for your benefit. It was decided that some time as mayor would look good when you run for the Senate.”

  Kwan felt his knees go weak. He took a couple of steps back before he found a chair and sat in it. “That is the height of insanity! The feds will investigate everything! If they uncover any link between me and the Triads—”

  Rhee smiled again. “Which doesn’t exist. There is no one who can place you or any Triad leader in the same place at the same time. You
can honestly say you have never met any of them. You are safe.”

  Kwan realized he was right, but he crushed the relief he felt. “What about the feds? If they do catch you, they’ll find out about me.”

  “They will not catch me.”

  “Why are you even here? To congratulate me in person?”

  “I had hoped the mayor would die in the assassination attempt, but she is still alive.”

  Kwan made a spitting sound. “If you can call being in a coma alive. Her spine’s shattered in three places. Her liver, stomach and large intestine are damaged and one lung has collapsed. It will be a minor miracle if she lives out the week, and she’ll never recover enough to hold political office again.”

  Rhee held Kwan’s gaze. “Nevertheless, she needs to die.”

  “Why are you—” Kwan stopped in mid-sentence as the realization dawned on him. “You want me to do it.”

  Rhee smiled again. “Call it a loyalty test. You have been too long outside the borders of the fatherland, comrade. You might have forgotten who the real enemy is. It’s time to remind you.”

  Kwan’s hands became fists, though he kept them by his side. “How am I supposed to kill her? She’s heavily guarded! How will I ever run for Senate if I’m in prison?”

  “I doubt you’d be the first. But seriously…” Rhee chuckled at his own joke while he reached into a coat pocket and withdrew a small case. “With this. It contains a syringe with a fast-acting poison that the best scientists in the Democratic People’s Republic assure me will look like simple heart failure. Eject the contents into one of the IV bags. It’s colorless, tasteless and impossible to detect.”

  He held it out. “Consider this as an opportunity to increase your standing in the world.”

  Thoughts and emotions clashed in Kwan’s mind. The thought of taking the case and flushing the contents down the toilet in front of Rhee was on the heels of the overwhelming urge to either shout for help or punch the smug bastard. But the cold harsh reality was that Rhee had him over a barrel and they both knew it.