Drawn in Blood (12 page)

“What’s happened?” Sloane sank down on the edge of the bed, a sick feeling forming in the pit of her stomach.

“That agent from the Art Crime Team, Richard Wil iams, is here.” Her father’s voice dropped to a near whisper. “He knows we’re hiding information on Cai Wen’s murder. He al but accused me of kil ing him.”

Sloane went very stil . “He just showed up on your doorstep and started gril ing you?”

“Pretty much, yeah. And on the one morning you didn’t drop by. He knows I’m cal ing you. But I said some stupid things…I—”

“Dad, listen to me,” Sloane interrupted. “Don’t say another word to him. Just give him a cup of coffee and a seat on the sofa. Then, go into the breakfast nook. You’l be in his sight, but you’l have distance between you. Sit there. Keep your back to him. No eye contact. Read the newspaper. Look out the window. But don’t even glance his way. And don’t engage in
any
conversation whatsoever. Do you understand?”

“Yes. I understand.” A hard swal ow. “Sloane, I’m in trouble. Please hurry.”

“I’m on my way.”

Sloane grabbed her purse. She was worried. She was badly thrown, not by what had happened, but by the timing. And she was livid.

She marched across the hal and poked her head into the room Derek and Leo were chatting in.

“Excuse me, gentlemen.” For Leo’s sake, she kept herself in check. “One of my clients has an emergency. I’m going to have to take off.”

“Wel , of course.” Leo looked startled and a tad disappointed. Abruptly, he brightened. “Derek and I can finish up here, and then we can arrange a fol ow-up for al three of us once I’ve finalized my ideas. I have some wonderful plans for this place. Oh, and I took some photos. I’l show them to Wal ace so he can coordinate the paintings he chooses for you with my design ideas.”

“That would be great, Leo. Thanks for understanding.” Sloane had no idea what he’d said, nor did she care. Her gaze was on Derek. “Can I speak to you for a moment before I take off?”

“Of course.” Derek glanced over at Leo. “I’l be right back.”

“Take your time,” Leo acknowledged with exaggerated cheer. “I’l be jotting down notes.”

Sloane waited until she and Derek were in the front hal way, far out of earshot. Then, she spun around and faced him, eyes blazing.

“You bastard. How could you?”

“With great difficulty.” Derek issued no denial and no apology. “I hated having to divert you. But, as I told you, if it came down to protecting you or protecting your father, there’d be no choice. Not in my book. And if he’s as innocent as you say, no harm was done.” One dark brow rose. “Right?” Without responding to the question, Sloane snatched up her coat and keys. “We’l deal with this later,” she bit out. “In the meantime, I expect Leo to leave ten minutes after I do.

You’re not taking this opportunity to get him alone and subtly assess him and how much he knows—the way you have been for the past two hours. That ends now.” She reached for the door, then paused, staring Derek down. “You used me. I won’t forget that. Or forgive it.” Sloane was more than halfway to her parents’ apartment when her cel phone rang again. She clicked her Bluetooth headset to answer the cal . “Sloane Burbank.”

“It’s me,” her father said tersely, keeping his voice as low as possible.

“Dad? What is it?”

“It’s bad, Sloane.” His voice held that same strained sound it had the night of the robbery when he’d cal ed her from the hospital. But now, it was muted to almost a whisper. He was clearly desperate to keep Rich Wil iams from overhearing him.

“I just got a cal from your mother,” he said. “She’s in the hospital. In the Bronx. The man who picked her up this morning wasn’t her driver. He was some Asian thug. He must have gotten behind the wheel while Fred was getting coffee, and Jake and Tom were changing shifts. The son of a bitch kidnapped her, broke her arm, and was taking her to God knows where—
to kill her
.”

Sloane felt il . “How do you know that?”

“Because he told her. He said he was kil ing her to punish me. That the FBI was about to drop in and I’d talk. How the hel he knew Wil iams was on his way over here, I have no idea. Al I know is that there was a traffic incident, your mother jumped out of the car, and she ran for help. I don’t have specific details. She’s on heavy pain meds and I don’t want to gril her. But I can’t leave the apartment to go to her. Not without giving Agent Wil iams an explanation. What should I do?” Before clamping down on her personal feelings, Sloane asked one question. “Are you sure Mom’s al right?”

“Yes. I spoke to her doctor.”

“Good.” The professional Sloane Burbank kicked in. “Give me her doctor’s name and number. I want the hospital staff to keep Mom comfortable—and there—until after I’ve had my talk with Wil iams. My goal is to get rid of him without mentioning this—for now. We’ve got enough on our plate without adding Mom’s attack and abduction to the mix. There’l be plenty of time to fil him in later.” A pause. “Unless the cops have already been notified.”

“No. Your mother’s smart. She’s using the fact that she’s in too much pain and too woozy from the meds to provide a coherent story. So no cops are involved yet.”

“God bless Mom. She’s buying us time.” Sloane felt a wave of relief. “Let’s put it to good use. First, hang up the phone. We don’t want to make Wil iams suspicious. I should be there in a half hour. Then we can deal with one crisis at a time.”

Xiao Long had gotten involved with the triads when he was ten. He’d done two-bit jobs and worked his way up to debt col ector and muscle for local brothels and gambling parlors. But he’d spent his entire youth working to get in favor with the Liu Jian Triad and its Dragon Head, Liu Jianyu, or as he was known to the world, Johnny Liu.

The first time Xiao had laid eyes on Liu, Xiao had been eleven, and Liu had been getting out of a huge, expensive car. Flanked by bodyguards, Liu had walked into a business meeting, carrying himself with an air of authority and cold-blooded ruthlessness that resonated inside Xiao. It was as if he
were
Liu, or, at the very least, Liu in the making.

From that moment on, Liu became Xiao’s icon, the inspiration for al he wanted to do and to be. And nothing would stop him from getting there.

The obstacles would be many. Xiao hadn’t been born into the triad leader’s world. He was a poor, street-smart kid from Fujian. The only dialect he spoke was the poorly regarded Fukienese. Liu hailed from Guangdong, as did his other triad members. Cantonese was the dialect spoken there, as it was in most cosmopolitan regions. So by the time Xiao was twelve, he’d made it his business to learn Cantonese.

He hadn’t stopped at that.

Liu was from the vil age of Loong Doo, which was very close to Macao and just a quick hop from Hong Kong. The Loong Doo were a tight, impenetrable clan, whose loyalties extended first and foremost to one another. They were also resourceful, enterprising, and stubborn. Most of al , they were risk-takers who aspired to raise their social status and took the necessary chances to ensure that it happened. Their dialect was unique to them. It gave them pleasure to speak it to one another so that other Cantonese couldn’t understand them.

Conversely, they themselves spoke other dialects of Cantonese and Mandarin so that they could converse with non–Loong Doo Chinese.

Xiao Long’s next order of business had been to learn the Loong Doo dialect. And he’d done so in record time.

How fitting that
Loong Doo
translated into “Dragon Society.” The Dragon Head of the Liu Jian Triad was a great leader who’d established himself in society. Xiao had dug deep for every shred of background information he could find on Johnny Liu. He knew what Liu was, as wel as what he appeared to be. And he knew it took a unique and bril iant mind to walk such a difficult tightrope.

To the Chinese people, Liu was regarded as a wealthy entrepreneur. Also as a philanthropist, who contributed many great works of art—pieces that had deep cultural significance—to China’s museums, as wel as donating large sums of money to hospitals and charities.

Those who suspected Liu of being involved in criminal enterprise were more than happy to turn a blind eye to it. And the law enforcement community had no concrete evidence of wrongdoing, so they were more than relieved to stay away.

Of course, on that score, Liu had had some help over the years. He’d been of great use to the leaders in Beijing during the Communist takeover of Hong Kong from the British in the early nineties. Thanks to the information Liu provided, prodemocracy activists disappeared. As a reward, Liu was afforded power and protection. In addition, he had a strong al y in Sergeant David Keong of the Hong Kong Police Department, also a Loong Doo. Keong was a personal friend of Liu’s—and a wel -rewarded one. He aided Liu in many ways—from keeping the transport of packages from Europe and the States under the radar, to ensuring that visitors like Xiao Long bypassed customs when getting in and out of the country. He served as a good, loyal associate to the triad, as wel as to Johnny Liu.

Xiao was single-mindedly determined to become an indispensable part of Liu’s world.

Perseverance, ambition, and results paid off. Xiao popped onto Liu’s radar. Repeatedly, the Dragon Head heard the name of this smart kid from the Fujian province who’d beaten the odds and busted his ass to make something of himself. So he’d sent for Xiao—one of the most treasured, honored days of Xiao’s life—and offered him a place in the Liu Jian Triad. Xiao would start smal —smuggling twenty units of heroin from the Fujian province—and, based upon his loyalty and success, work his way up, handling bigger and bigger drug deals.

Xiao had fol owed the rules and exceeded expectations. But he was looking for a more impressive opening—one that would propel him into Liu’s inner circle.

He’d found it.

Xiao’s golden opportunity had presented itself in the most ironic of ways. His older brother, a smal -time drug dealer, had been stupid enough to try spreading his wings by interfering with Liu’s alien smuggling operation. He’d stolen one of his boats, with a cargo of over two hundred women, paid off the captain, and kil ed two of the crew members. Worse, one of those crew members turned out to be a cousin of Johnny Liu’s.

Xiao had acted instantly, sans guilt or remorse. Kil ing came easy to him. It always had. Nothing gave him a greater sense of power than that of ending a life. And blood ties?

They meant nothing. His family was the Liu Jian Triad.

With a surge of adrenaline fueled by that sense of power, Xiao butchered his brother and took photographs of the results. He then sliced off one of his brother’s fingers—the one bearing the jade ring with their family insignia on it—and placed the cleanly severed finger and a photo of his brother’s mutilated remains in a beautiful y carved, ornately painted wooden box. He presented the box to Johnny Liu as a gift, as proof of the victim’s identity, and as a token of his own loyalty.

Liu had been impressed. The gesture was unprecedented. Xiao had chosen his new family over his flesh and blood. His actions spoke volumes about who and what he was.

Armed with guts, smarts, and unshakable drive, and unhindered by human emotion, he had his eye on a powerful future with the triad.

His reward from Liu had been fitting. The Dragon Head had significantly elevated his position and status. And the seeds of personal trust were planted.

Their relationship grew over the next four or five years, and by the time Xiao was in his midtwenties, he and Liu had forged a special bond. Xiao cal ed him
A Sook,
or “Uncle,” and Liu afforded him a special place by his side, together with a level of trust that surpassed anything he offered to any other triad member.

The clincher came when Xiao Long presented him with the beautiful painting that Liu coveted—Rothberg’s
Dead or Alive
—along with the $375,000 American dol ars that Liu had funded that crooked art dealer, Cai Wen, to pay for it, plus the $25,000 Xiao had brought with him, courtesy of Liu, as Cai Wen’s commission for completing the transaction. The stupid dealer had tried to swindle the wrong man when he told Xiao that he was upping his commission on the valuable painting to $100,000. Xiao Long had kil ed him on the spot, taken back the entire $400,000 and the painting, and left without a backward glance.

He’d gone straight to the Dragon Head and gifted him with both the painting and the money. It was a meaningful gesture—the painting Johnny Liu had desired, and a large sum of cash that could have elevated Xiao Long’s lifestyle tremendously had he kept it. But he hadn’t.

Years of sacrifice, culminating with this latest demonstration of consummate loyalty, was more than enough. Xiao Long’s future was sealed.

A month later, the opportunity had arisen for the Hong Kong–based triad to gain a foothold in the United States. Johnny Liu offered Xiao the chance of a lifetime: to go to New York, spearhead the operation, and begin expanding the triad’s wealth in America.

It was the beginning of Xiao’s rise to power. He’d bowed at the Dragon Head’s feet, accepting instantly and vowing to make Liu proud.

With the triad’s backing, Xiao had easily started his gang in New York City’s Chinatown. The Red Dragons, he’d cal ed it, in honor of his Dragon Head. Becoming its respected Dai Lo, or “Elder Brother,” was just as easy. There were street kids everywhere who were hungry for cash and even hungrier for the “family” a gang afforded. Xiao Long had capitalized on that, and the Red Dragons had flourished, surviving gang wars, police raids, and the occasional defector or informant. Over the past thirteen years, Xiao’s gambling, drug, and prostitution businesses had produced a cash flow that more than met the Dragon Head’s expectations.

This year they’d expanded into home burglaries, scoping out affluent Manhattan apartments through data provided by Xiao’s nephew, Eric Hu, and his computer services company. From that point, the Red Dragon kids took over, bypassing uniformed doormen and deactivating burglar alarms by inputting security codes stolen through the use of Hu’s hidden video cameras. The break-ins occurred at the times Hu suggested, and the kids went straight to the valuable items whose locations Hu had provided. Al the stolen items were fenced, except for the valuable paintings and art pieces that Xiao shipped off to Hong Kong via the Philippine province of Cebu.