I sigh and say, "That's just what we're hoping he didn'tdo. Do you think Ming keeps anything at the nightclub I might be interested in?"
"I don't know," Hendricks says. "It's doubtful. I imagine all Triad-related business is conducted at one of their Lodges, and I'm afraid I can't help you with that. Your best bet is to get a good look at Ming and follow him. Maybe he'll lead you to the goods."
"What I'd really like to do is establish a connection between this Triad and the Shop. You think there might be one?"
Hendricks nods. "They get their arms from somewhere. I've heard rumblings that the Shop is operating again in the Far East. I'll make some inquiries this evening and see what I can find out."
We go back inside the house and Hendricks takes me to the bedroom where my equipment lies on the bed. It's the usual stuff--my uniform, headset and goggles, the Five-seveN and several twenty-round magazines of 5.7x28mm ss190 ammunition, and my pride and joy, the SC-20K modular assault weapon system. This rifle uses thirty rounds of 5.56x45mm ss109 ammunition in semi and full automatic modes. There's a flash/sound suppressor combined with a multipurpose launcher that shoots airfoil projectiles, sticky cameras, shockers, and smoke grenades. Other tools of the trade include an optic cable for looking into tight holes, a camera jammer, a couple of wall mines, frag grenades, flares, and a medical kit.
"I'm impressed, Mason," I say. "You managed to get all of it in one shipment."
"I've had a lotof experience, Sam."
"So where is this Triad's headquarters? Their 'Lodge,' as you say?"
Hendricks picks up the SC-20K and tests its weight. "Nice weapon." He looks through the sights and says,
"The Lucky Dragons don't have a central Lodge. I imagine they have several scattered throughout the territory. Your best bet is the Purple Queen nightclub. I can assure you there will be some Lucky Dragons in the place. You might even see Jon Ming. He's known to stop in every other night or so."
"All right."
"Remember you're a gweilohere. I don't have to tell you that these guys are pretty dangerous, do I?" A gweilois a derogatory term meaning "foreign devil."
"I'm quite familiar with Triads," I say. "They'll kill any Westerner they suspect of spying on them. They'll also die to protect their traditions."
Hendricks lowers the SC-20K, looks at me eye to eye, and says, "And don't you forget it."
13
" SIR, the FBI agent is here to see you."
Colonel Lambert told his secretary to send him in and then grumbled to himself. Lambert hated the idea of the FBI poking its nose into Third Echelon's affairs. He ran a tight ship and he didn't like interference. Carly St. John was part of the family and Lambert felt it was his duty to solve her murder and bring the perpetrator to justice.
But he had neither the means nor the expertise to carry out such a mission. Third Echelon was not a law enforcement agency. Colonel Lambert didn't have the authority to arrest or prosecute anyone. The matter had to be handed over to an outside party and the only one that made sense was the Bureau.
Special Agent Jeff Kehoe had been assigned to the case. Lambert had met him for the first time the previous day. He was a Texan in his early forties and was a sixteen-year FBI veteran. His specialties were homicide and arson. The initial meeting had gone well and Lambert could honestly say he liked the guy. It just rankled him that Third Echelon's hands were tied in the matter.
Preliminary investigation into the murder was swift and decisive. Kehoe quickly established that Mike Chan was their man. Everyone had to swipe a key card to enter Third Echelon. Other than Carly, Chan was the only employee logged into the building that night. The firm's security cameras showed Chan moving from his office to Carly's office and back. The fact that his computer's hard drive had been erased was another dead giveaway. Lambert now looked forward to further revelations.
Lambert called, "Come in," when he heard the knock. Kehoe entered the office and nodded at the colonel.
"Good morning, sir."
"Agent Kehoe. Would you like some coffee?"
"No, thank you."
"Then have a seat." Lambert gestured to the chair in front of his desk. Kehoe sat and removed some notes from his briefcase. "What have you got for me today?"
"Quite a bit," Kehoe replied. "First of all, what kind of background check did you perform on Mike Chan before he was hired?"
Lambert shrugged. "The usual. Complete rundown of the guy's credit history, his family, schooling . . . why?"
"Mike Chan's apartment was thoroughly searched last night. An X-ray machine revealed a hidden compartment in the floorboards of his bathroom. There were some papers there that pointed us in a new direction, mainly letters written in Chinese. They were from Chan's brother. We learned some interesting things, the most important being that his name isn't really Mike Chan."
"What?"
"It's Mike Wu. He had supplied you with a completely false identity and background."
"That's impossible. We use the same background checkers as your people do. And the CIA."
"That's the problem," Kehoe said. "Chan's background was manufactured from beginning to end and it was manipulated from the inside. In other words, he had help from someone in a government agency. Every bit of so-called factual information on 'Mike Chan' was created and put into place before the background check. It takes considerable resources to do something like that. Mike Chan, or rather, Mike Wu, is not working alone. He's part of a much larger threat. Do you have any ideas what this could be?"
Lambert exhaled loudly. He rubbed the top of his head and said, "Gee, the only thing I can think of is the Shop. If it's not them then it's a major foreign power trying to get the goods on us. As I told you, Carly was working on a security breach we experienced last year. She was close to figuring it out and maybe Mike found out she was about to finger him. Hell, now I wouldn't be surprised if it was Mike that gave the Shop all of our agents' names. The Shop. It has to be them."
"But the Shop is an arms broker, right? They are a profit-motivated organization, not political, correct?"
"Yeah."
"Then what are they doing planting a mole in your organization? Other than supplying the names of your agents, what other purpose could it serve?"
Lambert thought a moment and suggested, "They're selling information." He slammed his fist on the table. "Whatever Mike was giving to them, they're selling it to someone else. That has to be it."
Kehoe nodded. "Makes sense. If it's really the Shop he's working for."
Lambert squinted at the agent. "What do you know?"
"As we uncovered more and more about Mike Wu, we learned that he's originally from Los Angeles. We confirmed the brother's identity, the one writing him letters. He's a guy named Eddie Wu, a known Chinatown gangster. He's suspected of being a major figure in one of the Triads that operates in southern California."
"Triads!"
"Yes, sir. A Chinese gang that operates like the Mafia."
"I know what a Triad is. Wait, you think Mike Chan, er, Mike Wu, is working for his brother? And not the Shop?"
"I don't know. According to the letters, Eddie Wu knew all about his brother's false identity. I'm just suggesting that perhaps it's not the Shop. It could be; I haven't ruled it out. But there's this other angle. The Triad Eddie Wu is hooked up with is known as the Lucky Dragons. It's a global Triad operated from Hong Kong. The Dragons have branches in Los Angeles, San Francisco, and New York. Maybe Houston, too, but we haven't established that for certain. Anyway, the Lucky Dragons are a formidable bunch of hoodlums. Eddie Wu has been in and out of jail a few times and he's on a watch list out in California. But for the last several years he's kept his nose clean."