Smoke and Shadow (23 page)

The dull grey
stone of the stairwell had a weak naked bulb providing more shadow
than light. Chu didn
’
t see any movement and he couldn
’
t hear any voices or other noise
from the other side of the door. He was about to give Trent the
signal to breach the door when he noticed the small box near the
upper hinge.

It had the look
of a cheap plastic toy and the wire connecting it to the door
looked flimsy and insignificant, but Chu recognized the door alarm
as a lethal deterrent to their insertion. He
didn
’
t know if the
alarm would be a blaring wail loud enough for the whole
neighborhood to hear or a silent signal to a security room or the
front desk. It probably served as a deterrent to the slaves
escaping through the roof, but it could keep them out just as well
as keeping the girls inside.

Chu gave Trent
the hand signal for alarm and no opposition. Trent crouched down
next to him and made a cutting motion with his fingers, suggesting
they might cut the alarm somehow. Chu shook his head. The position
of the alarm on the other side of the door made it impossible to
access from their side. Chu scanned the roof, wondering how Baker
would react if they gave up on the mission. They all knew no plan
survives contact with reality, but aborting at the first sign of
resistance would only reinforce Chu
’
s opposition to the op. Frustration
began to burn the back of his throat when he noticed the handle of
Trent
’
s knife in
his shoulder harness.

Chu led his
partner away from the door and toward the fire escape on the side
of the building. Scanning the metal walkway for opposition, the
dark figures crept down the stairs until they reached the fourth
floor window. The glass was painted black and covered with dust.
The old inner lock was wedged in tight. But Chu motioned at
Trent
’
s knife and
twisted his wrist in a sliding motion near the top of the
window.

The two men
crouched opposite a faceless brick wall, so Chu only had to scan
the rooftop above and the alley below as Trent worked. After a few
seconds of quiet scraping, Trent stopped and inserted his snake cam
in the space he cut away with the knife. Chu
didn
’
t hear any
movement on the other side of the window and Trent confirmed the
room was empty with the camera. He also confirmed the absence of an
alarm on the window glass.

It took him another minute to force
the ancient lock open with his knife, but before anyone ventured
into the alley or looked over the edge of the roof, Smoke and
Shadow inserted themselves into the Red Crane through the window
they forced open.

Once their eyes adjusted from the
street lamp gloom to the unlit darkness of the storeroom, Chu took
the point and led them through stacked piles of battered furniture
to the door leading out of the abandoned apartment. He slipped the
cam under the door without a sound and scanned the hallway for
signs of life. He flashed signals over his shoulder before drawing
his gun.

Two hostiles, both armed but guns
not drawn, one incoming.

The double squeeze on his shoulder
as he drew his weapon told Chu everything he needed to know about
their next move. The welcome familiar warmth of adrenalin in his
system moved his hand in a smooth graceful motion as the shadow of
footsteps passed by their door.

Chu swung the
door open and slid back behind the door frame. The startled sentry
only had time to flinch in surprise and gasp before Trent reached
out and plunged his knife into his victim
’
s clavicle. The dying body collapsed
into the room as Trent dragged him out of the doorway, allowing Chu
space to step into the hall. In a low crouch, braced against the
door frame, Chu put two rounds down range, hitting his target in
the shoulder and the head. The two men went down in less than three
seconds without any sounds of alarm raised on the
floor.

Chu scanned the hall with his
weapon held up at eye level while he waited for Trent. He knew his
partner searched for cellphones, keys or other personal effects
Baker could use as intel later. When the soft squeeze pressed into
his shoulder, Chu moved to the next door in the corridor,
positioned far enough away to avoid dragging his clothing on the
rough wood panel wall.

The lens on the
snake cam revealed a scene of destitution and despair. Chu saw a
dozen women of various ages huddled on thin dirty cots. The ones
who were asleep tossed and turned in their nightmares. Several of
them rocked back and forth, crying without tears. Two girls held
each other in the corner. The smaller one trying to stop the
bleeding on the other girl
’
s nose and lip. The image brought
back memories of his mother
’
s suffering at the hands of his
father. The urge to rush into the room and sweep the girls out of
the building tightened Chu
’
s jaw, but he looked away from the
cam and forced the image of his mother from his mind. He motioned
for Trent to move on and continued to the next
door.

Chu found two more rooms with
similar scenes and counted about thirty women on the fourth floor.
He guessed the Fuk Ching kept the slaves on the top floor because
the layout matched the intel Baker had from other raids. He made a
mental note to corroborate the previous information in his own
report when a rhythmic slapping sound caught his attention. When he
figured out where the noise came from, he motioned Trent to follow
him around the corner to the last door in the corridor.

The sound had a cadence and a
persistence Chu associated with a machine, but as he got closer he
knew the ruthless violence of the blows could only come from a
human attacker. The door was closed, but a harsh red light spilled
out into the hallway under the frame. Chu moved to his position and
held his body low to insert the camera. The speed of the blows
remained the same, but Chu recognized the distinct sound of leather
on flesh. He slid the camera underneath the door and slid back into
his own nightmare.

The man had his back turned to the
door. His shirt and pants were off and the pudgy folds of his flesh
glistened with sweat in the light of the lava lamps. His thin boxer
shorts clung to his sagging waist and fleshy legs. The skin on his
flaccid muscles quivered with each swing of his arm.

He held a leather belt high over
his head, swinging down with an anger born of impotence and fueled
by cocaine. Chu saw the bags on the nightstand and the sprinkle of
white powder spilling off the table and dancing in the red light
like snow. He heard the addict cursing at his victims, blaming them
for his sexual frustrations.

He had three
women squatting beneath him. Naked and exposed, each one bore welts
and bruises along their backs asses and thighs. One woman still had
the strength to cry. Another had sores dripping blood onto the
putrid stained rug. The last one didn
’
t move or cry at all. Chu wondered
if she might be dead.

Chu thought about
how long these women suffered under the cruelty of this man and how
many nights they
’
d
been beaten to provide pleasure to a stranger. His thoughts went
back to his own mother and her decade of torture. Images of
Baker
’
s ancestors
invaded his mind and each blow of the belt forced more violence
into his blood. He saw himself bursting into the room, wrapping the
belt around the fat man
’
s neck and strangling him until his eyes popped out of his
head and his tongue swelled out of his mouth. Chu wanted to ram the
cocaine down his throat and let the women rise up and tear the skin
from his body with their nails. He wanted to pummel this man with
the same heartless rhythm he used to see how he took
it
…

And Chu felt a
persistent squeeze on his shoulder. Trent
’
s signal snapped him out of his
vengeful fantasy and back to the operational reality. He kept them
in one spot too long. They had to move or risk exposure. In spite
of everything he felt and anything this man might deserve, he
wasn
’
t a target.
He was a john, and for tonight at least, he wasn
’
t on the hit list.

Chu pulled the
camera back from under the door and moved to the stairwell. The
persistent beat of the belt on flesh pounded into
Chu
’
s ear and it
didn
’
t go away
when they moved to the next floor.

The third floor of the Red Crane
held no horror or opportunity. The rooms held furniture and
apparatus for various perversions, but no one suffered in them when
Chu slid his camera under the door. He tried to focus on the op,
instead of imagining wailing women or masochistic men.

No sentries
roamed the halls and no cameras watched them drift through the
hallway like a pair of silent sharks. Chu led the way down to the
second floor with the beating of the belt still fresh in his mind,
along with a hunger to punish someone for man
’
s inhumanity to
women.

He found his
targets in the first apartment on the second floor. The tiny lens
of his snake cam showed a break room or security station for the
slave house. Two Fuk Ching gangsters sat on the right, drinking
beer and staring at their phones. Another one lay curled into a
fetal position on a small bed on the opposite side of the room. Chu
didn
’
t see their
weapons, but he could see the laptop screens near the two drinking
men. Images from cameras in each of the holding rooms and playrooms
could be seen in various windows. Chu could even make out the
flailing belt finally ending its assault on bruised innocent
skin.

The image fueled
his movements as he sent signals back to Trent. The squeeze of
understanding on his shoulder couldn
’
t come fast enough. Chu was tempted
to burst into the room alone. But he took several deep breaths and
reached back to squeeze Trent
’
s ankle before he let his fury flow
into the room.

The door opened
with a rush of air and a slight thud. The sound and motion got the
gangster
’
s
attention. Trent moved to the right. Chu heard three sharp snaps as
the suppressed weapon unloaded into the sleeping man. Chu could see
his victims watching Trent
’
s work, unable to turn away from the
sudden display of violence and death.

Their hands
didn
’
t even start
moving for their waists before Chu raised his weapon and fired
point blank in their direction. The head of the slaver closest to
him burst into a spray of bone and blood as the first two rounds
caught him beneath the eyes. The second man had a chance to open
his mouth when his companion
’
s brains hit his face, but he
didn
’
t do anything
else. Chu put one bullet in his mouth and three in his chest before
the warm corpse crumbled out of the chair and onto the
floor.

Chu thought about
pulling down his bandana and spitting on the worthless slaver, but
Trent
’
s movements
helped him maintain his professional demeanor. His partner had
already grabbed the cellphone from his victim and moved to take the
others as Chu composed himself. Taking off the bandana would reveal
his face to any cameras in the room they didn
’
t see. Leaving saliva at the scene
of a crime, even a bloody massacre like this one, gave a forensic
specialist the chance to tie him to the crime. Instead of acting
like a stupid amateur, Chu moved to cover the door, reaching for a
spare clip for a tactical reload as he crouched in the
doorway.

He reached his position just in
time to see someone coming towards the security station. Chu saw an
ugly slug of a man. His shirt and pants were off and the pudgy
folds of his flesh glistened with sweat in the light of the
hallway. His thin boxer shorts clung to his sagging waist and the
skin on his flaccid muscles quivered with each step he took. His
thin hair was greasy and matted on his head and a white residue
painted his nose and upper lip.

He
wasn
’
t holding a
belt this time, but he had something in each hand. Chu
couldn
’
t identify
the shining gold object in his left hand. The barrel of the gun was
unmistakable in his right.