FBI: Drawn In Blood Part 10

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 beautifully carved, ornately painted wooden box. He presented the box to Johnny Liu as a gift, as proof of the victim's ident.i.ty, 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 midtwen-ties, he and Liu had forged a special bond. Xiao called him A Sook, or "Uncle," and Liu afforded him a special place by his side, together with a level of trust that surpa.s.sed 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 dollars 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 killed 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 Kongbased 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 called 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 prost.i.tution 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, bypa.s.sing uniformed doormen and deactivating burglar alarms by inputting security codes stolen through the use of Hu's hidden video cameras. The breakins occurred at the times Hu suggested, and the kids went straight to the valuable items whose locations Hu had provided. All 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.

Xiao knew that Johnny Liu had a broader plan in mind. He knew Liu meant for him to play an integral part in what came next.

It was the accelerating timetable that concerned him. He had an ominous feeling as to its cause.

A limousine was waiting for him when he arrived at Hong Kong International Airport. From there, he was driven to Johnny Liu's hilltop estate on the affluent Victoria Peak. He was greeted by a ser- vant and escorted into the main garden, which was a veritable paradise filled with exquisite arrays of flowers and cascading fountains. At the garden's center, where Liu was now seated, was a magnificent jade and marble shrine, built in honor of Liu's daughter, Meili, who'd died almost three years ago, tragically at the young age of twenty-three.

Xiao Long knew better than most how her death had eaten away at Johnny Liu.

Slowly and respectfully, Xiao approached the shrine, stopping several yards away and waiting.

The Dragon Head beckoned him forward, gesturing for Xiao to join him. Xiao complied, ascending the steps to stand before his leader. He bowed deeply from the waist. "A Sook," he murmured.

He then took a seat across from the Dragon Head. "Thank you for sending for me." He automatically switched to Liu's native Loong Doo dialect.

"You look well," Liu responded in the same tongue. "Your trip was pleasant and without incident, I trust?"

Xiao Long nodded. Perhaps he looked well, but his Dragon Head didn't. He looked gaunt, sickly.

His complexion was sallow, and his cheeks were sunken. He'd aged a decade since Xiao had last seen him, just months ago.

Liu studied Xiao for a moment, as if reading his thoughts. "You're concerned about me. We'll address that later. I'm proud of you. Your success in New York is exceptional. The time has come to expand your efforts. Providing you with the details is one of the reasons I summoned you here. But first, I want to hear about Johnson. Where do things stand?"

The question came as no surprise. Xiao knew of his leader's obsessive hatred for Wallace Johnson, and his only slightly less intense hatred for Johnson's partners. What he didn't know was when that hatred had begun or what had caused it.

Without pause, he provided the requisite answer. "Johnson continues to suffer-in all ways. As I reported, he was threatened before he spoke to the FBI, and beaten afterward. He still hasn't recovered from the bodily pain. Financially, you have things in hand. Spiritually, he deteriorates daily.

Our actions cause him profound agony. He sits alone in a dungeon of his own creation. His paintings are his only companions. His anguish is acute."

"What about his partners? Is Burbank's wife dead?"

"Unfortunately, no," Xiao replied frankly. "I just received a call from Jin Huang. He followed orders. He murdered Rosalyn Burbank's bodyguard and disposed of his body. Then, he seized Burbank's wife. She would be dead, but an unfortunate traffic incident prevented it. She escaped."

Liu's jaw tightened. "Rectify that. Personally."

"You have my word." Xiao was loath to disappoint his Dragon Head. Still, he couldn't regret Rosalyn Burbank's escape. The thought of personally killing her triggered a rush of antic.i.p.ation.

"Continue," Liu instructed.

"Of course." Xiao got himself back on track. "Our arrangements to ruin Burbank are in place."

"Acceptable. But, as we both know, no subst.i.tute. Burbank needs to suffer great personal loss-soon. Only then can he die. Let's move on. Where do things stand with Martino?"

"The employment agency you had me acquire continues to service Martino's clothing factory and to squeeze him dry. He's approaching bankruptcy. And his guilt and liquor consume him, body and soul. He might take his own life before we get the chance to do it for him. If not, I'll see to that personally, as well."

"Good." The Dragon Head nodded, somewhat appeased. "And the others?"

"Fox is still mourning his personal loss and ultimate rejection. Leary is drowning in debt, thanks to his addiction and his bookie. I can execute each of them whenever you choose, in whatever manner you see fit."

"Soon," Liu said. "And, again, by your hand, and your hand alone. That applies to all five men. I want them to endure brutal, agonizing deaths. Until then, escalate their suffering. Kill Burbank's wife. Target his daughter. Push Martino over the edge. Bleed Leary dry. Prepare to make Fox's loss an actual fatality. As for Johnson-no amount of torture is enough." The Dragon Head's tone was filled with such uncharacteristic venom that it caught Xiao Long off guard. Liu was a man who exhibited nothing but self-control.

The surprise must have registered on Xiao's face, because his Dragon Head studied him again before he spoke. "It's time you learned the truth about Meili's death. There are rumors that she died by her own hand. I say Johnson killed her. He didn't wield the knife. But he might as well have. Just as Burbank, Martino, Fox, and Leary might as well have twisted the blade in her heart."

"They knew your daughter?"

"Indeed they did. Especially Johnson. He knew her far too well."

This was not what Xiao Long had expected. "I thought that you and Johnson were business a.s.sociates."

"And so we were-and still are, in Johnson's mind. But back then, our a.s.sociation was untarnished.

He made many trips to Hong Kong for his investment firm. We had frequent business dealings.

They were all honorable."

"So he met Meili..."

"Not then," Liu replied curtly. "Not until several years after she left home."

Xiao was already situated in New York when Liu's only child had run off. But he'd made the necessary arrangements to be instantly apprised about anything that affected his mentor. So he knew that Meili had left home. She'd been just seventeen at the time. And Liu had been crushed. So Xiao had respected his privacy and had asked no questions.

The answers were now being provided.

"She was so young and so headstrong," Liu murmured. "A budding artist. I saw signs of great talent. I would have used all my resources to properly educate her and to open the doors to a thriving career. But Meili..." A heavy sigh. "She wanted no part of it. She was naive and free-spirited enough to believe she could make it on her own. So one night while I slept, she disappeared. She took nothing but two paintings. Both Rothbergs, including the one you took such great pains to acquire for me."

"She sold them?"

"One at a time, yes. In order to eat and put a roof over her head. But she was swindled on each sale.

As a result, she could barely sc.r.a.pe by. Her lifestyle...let's say it became unacceptable. I demanded she return home. She refused. I had no choice but to sever ties with her. She'd defied me, stolen from me, and brought shame to our family." A pause. "We didn't see each other again-not until just before she died."

Liu's expression remained unchanged, as did his tone, but Xiao could sense the pain and anger beneath the surface.

"She came to me then, like a trampled flower," the Dragon Head continued. "She'd been defiling herself with an older, married man. An American, who came to her whenever he was in China on business. The affair had been ongoing for over three years-ever since he and his partners tried pressuring her into selling them the second Rothberg for a price too absurd to mention. They saw how desperate she was. And they used that to their advantage."

"They tried buying the painting," Xiao echoed. "She refused?"

"Yes, but only because she got a slightly better offer-one that was still an insult. Worse, she sold both Rothbergs to competing triads."

Xiao knew the severity of such a betrayal. But he wisely didn't say anything about it. "And the American she was involved with?" He refrained from speaking Johnson's name.

"According to Meili, he had become totally enchanted with her. He lavished her with spending money and jewels, and professions of love. That turned out to be a facade. He'd reduced my daughter to nothing but a common wh.o.r.e. One night, in what he considered to be a moment of levity, he revealed to her that his friend and partner, Ben Martino, had come up with the idea of a bet. All his partners-the same ones who'd tried swindling her-had partic.i.p.ated."

"What kind of bet?" Xiao Long was processing this onslaught of information as quickly as he could.

"The men placed wagers on how long it would take Johnson to bed my daughter." A hard swallow.

"Evidently, Meili still had a shred of dignity left. When she heard that her love affair was the result of a bet, she was shamed and angry. She ended the affair at once. That b.a.s.t.a.r.d Johnson didn't even understand why. He would have continued their involvement indefinitely-a married man defiling my daughter, with no plans for a future with her. And all at the instigation of a bet. A bet made by thieves who'd steal from a desperate young woman who was clearly at the end of her rope."

"I don't understand. You say there was respect between you and Johnson. Yet he was dishonoring your daughter while continuing his business relationship with you."

"He didn't know Meili was my daughter. She told him only her given name." Another pause.

"When she came to me, it was shortly after she had tossed Johnson aside. She was carrying his child. She was far too proud to seek him out and turn to him for help. But she was alone and penni-less. She wanted my help. When I heard her story, I was so overcome with shame and rage, I turned her away. It was a mistake. By the time I went after her, it was too late. She'd slit her wrists, and bled to death all alone. It was only afterward, when I read her suicide note, that I found out Johnson was the man who'd dishonored her. From that moment, I vowed that, if it took my entire life, I would avenge Meili's death. Now you know why you're aiding me. But my revenge is not complete. I won't feel peace until Johnson has been tortured to the point where he has no desire to live, at which time I'll oblige him. And the others? The heartless animals who pushed my child into dest.i.tution, and then placed wagers on how long it would take for her to become a rich man's prost.i.tute? They must pay as well. Have nothing. Be nothing. And then die-just as Meili did."

"I understand." This explanation was vital. It clarified much about the Dragon Head's orders over the years.

Liu was slowly killing these men. Through Xiao, he was breaking their bodies and their spirits.

And soon Xiao would be afforded the supreme satisfaction of ending their lives.

"What I've just told you remains between us," Liu stated. It wasn't a request. It was an order. "The circ.u.mstances surrounding Meili's death have been concealed. That's the way I intend it to stay."

"Of course, A Sook." Xiao bowed his head. "You have my solemn pledge."

"And you have my trust."

That was that. In the blink of an eye, Liu was no longer the grieving father. He was the Dragon Head.

"It's time to share the final phase of my plan with you," he p.r.o.nounced. "The Black Eagles will soon be arriving in America. They have been paid enough to ensure we reap millions of American dollars. Thanks to the groundwork you laid with their Albanian-American relatives, everything is in order for their arrival. You will run the entire operation. It is complex, but I know you'll succeed.

My niece and her amah will play key roles in the entire plan, especially in the demise of my enemies. It must unfold quickly, and with ultimate precision. After that, my personal scores will be settled, and the triad will be left wealthy and strong."

"Left?" Xiao refused to ignore the finality of Liu's statement.

Without responding, Liu rose, gripping the chair arms for support. The conversation had clearly worn him out. "I must rest now. Afterward, we'll talk again. By the time you return to New York, you will be ready."

"A Sook," Xiao inserted quickly, also rising to his feet. "I'm honored by your faith in me. Have no doubt that I'll make your plan succeed. I'll bring great wealth to our triad. And I'll take personal pleasure in killing your enemies. But your urgency causes me concern. Why have you so rapidly accelerated your plan?"

Liu faced Xiao without emotion. "You know the answer. My time here grows short."

"I will not accept that." Xiao had never spoken so disrespectfully to his Dragon Head. But this was one time he couldn't contain himself. "You will not leave this earth. I won't permit it. Whatever is ailing you, we'll fight it."

Rather than becoming angry, Liu looked somewhat amused. "Some fights cannot be won, my son.

Not even by you. My cancer is advanced. It's spread throughout my body. I'll be dead in a month, maybe two."

Hearing the news spoken aloud, Xiao felt as if he'd been punched in the gut. His Dragon Head was his inspiration, the man he'd modeled his life after. Others died. Liu lived forever.

"There will be no mourning," Liu instructed Xiao. "Only acceptance and preparation. Live up to your potential. Put my affairs in order. Fulfill my final requests. Then I can die in peace."

There was no room left for argument. Xiao would comply with Liu's final wishes.

"All that you ask will be done," Xiao replied, the icy purpose in his soul returning to his voice, his eyes. "Everything you've requested will become reality. And afterward, I'll honor your memory. I'll make sure you live on."

"I never doubted it. If all goes as planned, the triad members will soon be addressing you as Dragon Head."

CHAPTER TWELVE.

Matthew Burbank was pacing by the front door when Sloane arrived. He was sheet white, and looked ill.

"I'm here, Dad," she said quietly. "I talked to Mom's doctor. Everything is fine. They've set her arm, and she's asleep. She'll be in and out of sleep-mostly in-for a few hours anyway. So let's take care of this first. Then, we'll go pick her up. I also talked to the security agency. They're starting a private search for Fred. When I give them the go-ahead, they'll call the NYPD. But we all know the likelihood of finding Fred alive is zip. Organized crime doesn't leave witnesses."

A taut nod.

"Did you follow my instructions?"

"Yes. I haven't said a word since we spoke. Nor has Special Agent Williams. He's just sitting in the living room, like a lion waiting for his meat."

"Then let's make sure he knows he's not getting any." Sloane squeezed her father's arm. "It will be all right. Just let me do all the talking."

She walked inside and led the way into the living room.

Rich Williams was seated on the sofa with an empty coffee cup perched on the table in front of him.

Quickly, Sloane sized him up. A distinguished, silver-haired man in a business suit, he was self-a.s.sured, comfortable in his own skin, and low-key in a way that suggested he'd already acquired everything he needed to call this a wrap.

An experienced agent. And a perfect demeanor to unnerve someone like her father.

"h.e.l.lo, Agent Williams," Sloane said in a crisp professional voice.