Restless Waters (25 page)

I impatiently nodded, the words flying past me in a blur, as I stepped inside the warehouse. I barely heard the door close, so focused was my attention on the bizarre scene ahead.

A few lights had been left on, giving the place an eerie glow. However, the first thing to hit me was the stench. The interior reeked of fish guts and blood, the odor reaching so deep inside that bile rose in my throat. I held my breath and tried hard not to gag, but the desire to throw up was nearly overwhelming.

Then there was the ammonia itself. My eyes began to itch and burn, following that with a bevy of tears. It was
as if I were a mourner at a dearly departed friend’s funeral. I quickly looked around and spotted a respirator mask. Snatching it off its hook, I slipped the guard over my nose and mouth. Only then did I begin to examine the room.

Electric heaters glowed, their coils burning as bright red as hot coals as they hummed a monotonous tune. Giant fans assisted the process by blowing warm air all about, transforming the interior into a virtual hothouse.

A number of boxes stood stacked in one corner, and I walked over to investigate further. Each was tightly wrapped in clear plastic, and had an airbill attached on top. Their destinations were all the same: Magic Dragon Products in Hong Kong. I knew that nestled inside were dried shark fins with their whispered promise of health, wealth, and happiness.

But something far more disturbing now caught my eye. It was a close-up view of dismembered fins that had been formed into piles. There appeared to be millions of them heaped together like trophies. I was both appalled and drawn to it.

To think such magnificent creatures had been reduced to just this: five little fins that had been hacked off of their bodies. Each triangular piece of flesh was classified according to type and size. There were dorsal, pectoral, pelvic, anal, and caudal fins. Some were so small that clearly, they had been sliced off of juveniles. Their tiny piles could easily have been mistaken for a mound of shriveled Frito-Lay chips.

I stared in growing horror at the mountain of fins and realized it was nothing less than genocide.

Picking up a fin, I instantly sliced my finger—its surface was as rough as sandpaper, its edge as sharp as a knife. The membrane fell from my hand back onto the pile, where it lay like a corpse stained with a drop of my blood.

I sucked my finger dry and then went to work, turning everything I saw into pictures. While neither Fish and Wildlife nor the National Marine Fisheries Service might be interested in the case, I knew of an entity that most definitely would be. This had all the earmarks of a bombshell story to be eaten up by the press.

I was so involved in snapping photographs that I rarely lowered the camera from my eyes, but simply stepped from one pile of evidence to the next. That is until Michael Leung unexpectedly appeared in my lens. He wasn’t alone, but held a knife close to his face, its blade studded with jagged teeth, each of which dripped with blood.

I didn’t stop to think, but instinctively snapped the photograph. That brought a smile to Leung’s lips, as if he were privy to a joke I didn’t know. Then it hit me. Perhaps this had been the last image that Sammy had also viewed through his camera. And I suddenly realized where I’d seen that same weapon before, hovering above me at Stas Yakimov’s house. Kevin had been correct. The murder weapon used had been a shark-tooth knife. It seemed to whisper mesmerizingly,
You’re going to be next. You’re going to be next.

The camera dropped like dead weight to my side, and I began to sway, woozy from the heat, the stench of the fish, and sheer fear. All the while, my eyes remained glued to Leung’s, wondering how he’d managed to sneak inside so quietly—not wanting to speculate on what might have happened to Sharkfin Dave.

My thoughts raced to the gun tucked into the back of my pants when a noise crept across the room. Perhaps that was Sharkfin even now. But it was as if Leung could read my mind, his smile growing ever more sinister.

“I’m afraid Dave won’t be able to help you any more tonight. He’s just become food for the fishes. Too bad. I’ll
miss him. But then again, he never could seem to hold on to a job.”

My hand grabbed my .38 and began to pull it out when a pain, powerful as a train, slammed into the back of my head. A roar swept me off my feet, and bright lights popped in the air all around, like strands of cheap flashbulbs. Then I began to float, carried on a billowy cloud, as everything was swallowed up by a tidal wave of darkness.

A
hard bump woke me. Something solid rammed against my arm, as if I were being jostled about on a New York subway car. My sight was blurry and my head hurt enough to explode. I swallowed some saltwater and began to cough and choke. It was then I became aware of the wet and cold. I was by myself, floating in the middle of the ocean.

My vision cleared, and I caught sight of a shadow of movement passing off to my right. A dark shape was gliding nearby, its pace as leisurely deliberate as an unhurried lover. It looked to be some kind of miniature submarine, perhaps fifteen feet in length and weighing half a ton—until the damn thing circled around and came back toward me. That’s when I realized it was a steel torpedo of muscle; one with thick, broad pectorals, and a dorsal fin that slashed through the water like a knife.

I held my breath, my heart thumping wildly, as it passed by once more only to return closer and faster this time. It was then I felt another bump. I looked down to see that a wisp of blood had begun to ooze from me. I stared in disbelief. A shark had taken a bite from my arm.

Perhaps if I closed my eyes and prayed, it would simply
go away. I shut them for as long as I dared, before finally sneaking a peek. No such luck. The shark was still there, as if purposely taunting me. It clearly took pleasure in my fear, for its giant scythe of a tail now propelled it forward, rapidly approaching for the kill.

I would have screamed; I would have cried. However, I had no choice but to die as the shark’s upper jaw unhinged, its lower jaw dropped open, and a pair of emotionless black eyes rolled back up in their sockets. I gaped helplessly inside a dark cavern filled with razor sharp scalpels, each notched and serrated like those on Michael Leung’s knife.

I was the perfect captive, frozen in fear, as those spiked blades proceeded to slash through flesh and bone. I cried out and jumped, only to collide against something hard.

“Good. You’re finally awake.”

I opened my eyes and escaped my dream. Michael Leung slowly came into focus, his cold black orbs impassively watching me.

Then I remembered. Leung had caught me inside his warehouse. Or, perhaps that had also been part of my nightmare. Maybe I was dreaming even now.

My stomach clenched as the world swayed to the eerie percussion of water slapping against wood. The sound was punctuated by the grinding of an engine, and I realized this was far worse than any nightmare. I was no longer on land but fully awake and lying on the deck of a boat.

I glanced at Leung, who nodded as if in confirmation. And for the first time in a long while, I was truly afraid for my life. I did what I always do in such situations. I brazenly opened my mouth.

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing. But if you have any sense, you’ll turn this craft around right now,” I warned, trying to sound a lot tougher than I felt.

“And why would I do that?” Leung asked archly, studying me as if I were some sort of science project.

I was momentarily stymied, and then came up with the only reason I could.

“You do know I’m a federal agent, don’t you? I’m not someone that’s simply going to disappear. People will be searching for me,” I advised.

“Do you really think so?” Leung lightly mocked. “From what I’ve been told, I’ll be doing more than one agency a favor. I hate to break it to you, but you’re not all that popular among your peers.”

He’d clearly done his homework. Still, it wasn’t something that I wanted to hear.

“Maybe it has to do with the company you choose to keep,” he continued. “Sammy Kalahiki wasn’t very popular with those in his agency, either.”

“You killed him, didn’t you?” I responded, more to stall for time than anything else.

I looked around, but nothing was in sight—except for the sea, which stretched and yawned as if aware that it was nearly break of day.

“It became a necessity. He was snooping into things that didn’t involve him. In fact, part of the reason he died was to send you a warning,” Leung revealed.

It was as if I could feel those razor-sharp teeth tearing into my flesh again. I couldn’t stand the thought of being responsible for yet another death.

“What in the hell are you talking about?” I said.

“Really, Agent Porter. Don’t act so dense. If you’d listened to your superiors, you wouldn’t be sitting on this boat right now. You have your own stubbornness to thank for that.”

I closed my eyes, wishing this would all go away, wanting nothing more than to be seduced by the waves rocking me in a watery cradle.

Ouch!

Something hot nipped my flesh and I opened my eyes to find Michael Leung standing over me, having slashed my arm with his knife. I quickly lashed out, determined to fight him off, but discovered that my wrists were tightly bound in front of me.

“Don’t worry. It’s just a surface wound. That won’t kill you,” he advised, and swiftly moved away.

I struggled to my feet, only to be struck by a stench so vile that I promptly grew ill. Turning around, I wretched off the side of the boat. The remains of my Chinese dinner joined a stinking line of chum comprising flesh, fish guts, and a dark slick of blood.

Sharks generally lurk in our nightmares, but mine now sprang to life, as a gang of dorsal fins crisscrossed the water like a nautical rally of SUVs. I didn’t even want to think about what Michael Leung had planned for me.

“And what about Yakimov? It was you that attacked me at his house the other day,” I stated, partially to distract myself from the feeding frenzy below.

“Guilty as accused,” Leung responded, with a self-satisfied smile.

“So then, Stas was also involved in the shark-fin trade.” I naturally assumed he was.

“No, not at all. I thought you knew,” Leung said, appearing to be slightly puzzled. “Yakimov was my supplier for black-market Viagra.”

“Then why did you kill him?” I asked, feeling somewhat confused.

“Because the man had more muscles than he did brains. Stas became greedy. He knew about my shark-finning operation and heard that Kalahiki was poking around. He decided to contact each of us and see who would pay him the best price. Yakimov got hold of your friend and offered him information about my business.
Meanwhile, he threatened to use Kalahiki against me unless I met his demands. Believe me, Yakimov got exactly what he deserved.”

I wondered if Leung knew about the photographs that I’d found at Yakimov’s place. This seemed as good a time as any to find out.

“Whose idea was it to kill him, then? Yours or the senator’s?” I asked, anxious to gauge Leung’s reaction.

My mini-bombshell hit its mark as Leung stared at me in surprise.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he softly replied.

“Of course you do. I’m referring to Senator Shirley Chang. Or maybe you know her better as Shirley Marie Ting. She’s an officer of Magic Dragon Restaurants Incorporated, along with your father. In fact, her brother works for one of your family’s companies in Hong Kong. Wasn’t that part of the deal? He gets a job and she gets a cut of the business so that you can operate freely on Oahu?” I probed, figuring I had nothing to lose.

Leung must have thought so too, because he responded with an amused chuckle.

“Very good, Agent Porter. You know more than I had realized. However, you should also understand that it’s a grave mistake to toy with a woman of Senator Chang’s stature and power,” he replied.

“I take that to mean she’s on the payroll and keeps things running smoothly for you here in Hawaii,” I sarcastically retorted.

“Yes, she does. But not for the reasons you think.” Leung paused, his eyes twinkling in amusement. “Senator Chang is my aunt. We like to keep our business all in the family.”

It was my turn to be astounded. No wonder he had a lock on the illegal shark-fin trade in Hawaii.

“I suggest you take what little time is left and enjoy it as
best you can. Breathe in deeply. Look up at the sky, gaze down at the ocean and watch the sharks at play,” he said with a snigger, and grabbed a fishing gaffe from the deck.

Leung leaned forward and jabbed at the sharks, driving them into even more of a frenzy. My nerves shrieked as their teeth furiously gnashed at the pole like a flurry of bullets raining against metal.

“What about Sharkfin Dave? Is he involved in this too?” I asked, wondering if I’d been caught in a well-constructed web.

“Dave made a fatal mistake when he helped you tonight,” Leung placidly responded.

“Why is that?” I asked, almost afraid to know.

Leung nodded at the shreds of flesh that the sharks were still fighting over. “See down there? You’re looking at what’s left of him. But don’t worry. He’s just a little treat to stir up their appetite. You’re going to be the main course.”

I tried not to think about Dave, but tore my gaze away, damned if I’d play the helpless victim as I had in my dream. If I was going to be shark bait, I fully intended to take Leung with me.

I watched as he continued to poke at the sharks, all the while waiting for just the right moment. It came as he dropped the gaffe and turned to throw more chum into the water. Lowering my head, I began to race toward him. But my scheme backfired, as Leung heard me approach and swiftly whirled around. Picking the gaffe back up, he used it to ram me hard in the stomach.

My muscles screamed, and my breath took flight, as my feet slid out from under me. Stumbling backward, I tripped and nearly fell overboard.

“Not so fast,” Leung said, grabbing hold of me. “All in good time. You’re to be the entertainment for my new business associate. I want to show him how we take care of our problems here in Hawaii.”

He didn’t keep me in suspense as to who that might be. A familiar figure emerged from the cabin, and my eyes locked with those of Vinnie Bertucci. There wasn’t an ounce of sympathy in his gaze. Rather, his eyes were as deadly blank as those of any shark. I stared in horror, finally realizing that Santou and Kevin had been right all along. It was dangerous to get caught on the wrong side of Vinnie Bertucci—except that I’d learned my lesson too late.

“Nothing personal, New Yawk, but my boss will kill me if I go back without his money. Besides, it’s business. You understand,” he stated in a low monotone.

“Then you’ve been involved in shark finning this entire time?” I asked, cursing myself for having ever been so naive.

“No, just Viagra. But you know me. I’m always looking to hook up with a profitable new scheme,” Vinnie said and turned to Leung. “She’s an acquaintance. Do me a favor and make it quick, will ya?” he requested, and started to head back down into the hold.

“Wait a minute. I planned a special show. Don’t tell me that you’re not going to stay and watch,” Leung responded, with a snort of disbelief. “And here I thought all you New York wiseguys were so tough. This will make a good story for my friends back in Hong Kong.”

Vinnie stopped and glowered at him. “Shut the fuck up and just do as you’re told.”

“No one orders me around. Remember that,” Leung coldly responded.

“Does that include Daddy, too?” Vinnie taunted. “I’m sick of the smell on this shit bucket. Just clean up your mess, and let’s get the hell out of here already.”

What a guy, what a guy.

“Coward!” I yelled at Vinnie’s retreating back, as Leung now began to approach.

I wanted to fight him off, but it would be nearly impossible without the use of my hands. That being the case, I relied on what weapons I could. I bit down hard on Leung’s ear as he attempted to grab hold of me.

“You bitch!” he cried out in pain, and smacked me across the face.

That only angered me all the more, and I went to knee him in the groin. But Leung was ready for such a move and countered with a punch to my chest.

The force of the blow sent me reeling to the back of the boat, where my feet became entangled in a length of coiled rope. I lost my balance and fell against the railing. The ledge cut into my stomach, as I stared down at the bloody remains of Sharkfin Dave floating in the water.

I must have become paralyzed with fright, because I suddenly couldn’t move. The sharks seemed to sense it, too. Either that or they smelled fresh blood, for they now gathered below me.

One took the lead and partially breached the water, as though unwilling to wait for his meal any longer. I stared in dread at the open jaws, abruptly aware which of us was prey and which was the hunter. I was no longer anything other than a quivering tower of red meat.

The shark drew so close that I could smell the stench of death on his breath, and I pulled back with a terrified shriek. My bloodcurdling scream must have jarred the last bit of humanity still left inside Vinnie.

“All right, screw it. That’s enough. Leave her alone, Leung. We’ll find some other way to deal with the problem,” he ordered.

But it was as though Leung had gone stone deaf. He continued to approach. My legs buckled beneath me, and I slid on the deck futilely searching for anything with which to defend myself.

“I said that’s enough,” Vinnie repeated, and roughly grabbed hold of Leung.

Leung’s hand slid into his pocket and pulled out the shark-tooth knife.

“Watch out!” I cried.

Only my warning came too late, as Leung whirled around and slashed Vinnie’s arm.

“You son of a bitch,” Vinnie snarled, and started to go for his gun.

But the blade showed no mercy, slitting Vinnie’s wrist so that the gun fell from his grip. That’s when I spotted the gaffe near Michael Leung’s feet and lunged for it. I clutched the pole between my bound hands, and whacked him across the legs with all of my might. Leung let out an enraged howl as metal hit bone, making contact.

What I didn’t expect was to have the pole ripped from my grasp. But that’s exactly what Leung did, tearing it from my fingers, and flinging it across the deck. Then he stumbled toward me once more. Only this time, the shark-tooth knife was held high in his hands.

I pressed myself into the corner, trying to become as small a target as possible. But once the blade found me, nothing would help. All I could do was to cover my head with my hands and prepare for the worst.