Snake Eye (31 page)

Rossi wrapped an arm around her daughter’s shoulders and remembered the old man in the control booth. Was that how he would have chosen to go? There was no way to know. Missy looked up into her mother’s face. She had to shout in order to be heard. “What are you going to
do now?”

The Bayliner was planing by that time and Rossi put the wheel over to avoid a slow-moving sailboat. “Do you remember the Hartleys? The people who took you water skiing last summer? I thought we’d call Vanessa from there.”

“She’ll make me go to the hospital.”

“Yes, she will. And I’m grateful.”

“But you aren’t coming.”

“No, honey,” Rossi said glancing into her daughter’s eyes. “Can you forgive me? A good mother would take you to the hospital herself, and stay until you were safely in bed. But, I have something important to do.”

“You’re going to finish your job.”

“Something like that. Yes.”

Missy looked up at her mother. Her eyes were big and bright. “It’s okay, Mom. I understand.”

Rossi gave her a quick hug. “Do you really? If so, I’m grateful for that. By the way, it took a lot of courage to jump onto that man’s back, but don’t do anything that foolish again.”

Missy grinned mischievously. “I won’t if you don’t.”

The FBI agent might have replied, but the dock was coming up fast and quick work was required to shift into reverse before scraping the side of pier. Then, having secured the boat to the dock, mother and daughter climbed a flight of gently curving concrete stairs. A well-lit house loomed above, and judging from the subdued
thud, thud, thud
of bass, a New Year’s eve party was well underway. The doors out onto a balcony were open and the sounds of excited conversation could be heard as the distressed party goers discussed what they had witnessed on television only fifteen minutes earlier.

When the bell rang it was Marianne Hartley who went to open the front door. The society matron barely recognized the ragged looking couple who stood on her porch. Rossi’s hair was tangled, one eye was half-swollen shut, and her face was badly bruised. Missy’s face was dirty, one arm had been splinted, and her clothes were filthy. “Christina? Missy? What happened?”

“Sorry to barge in on you like this,” Rossi said apologetically, “but I need to use your phone.”

“It was,” as a prominent businessman told a society reporter the next morning, “a night to remember.”

It was almost two in the morning by the time Rossi drove her ex-husband’s BMW745i across the University bridge and headed downtown. It was what Vanessa had described as “a Christmas present from Ed to Ed,” and there were only 412 miles on the odometer. Although the Hartleys had agreed to transport both Vanessa and Missy to Children’s Hospital in their SUV, Rossi could tell they took issue with her decision to leave her daughter, and would probably remove her name from their Christmas card list.

She wound her way through the mostly empty downtown streets and pulled up in front of Samuel Chow’s apartment building. That put the Beemer in a tow-away zone but the agent didn’t think there were likely to be any SPD meter maids out and about at that hour of the morning.

Then, conscious of the fact that a little bit of preparation was in order, Rossi got out of the car, made her way over to the curb, and laid out her arsenal on the BMW’s flawlessly shiny hood. She had her Glock, plus Dexter’s Heckler & Koch, but what about ammo? Both weapons had been fired so it was important to check.

Meanwhile, directly across the street, there was consternation inside the SNAKE EYE surveillance van. Agents Moller and Hagger had the duty, but Inez had decided to bring her
teammates some coffee on her way home from a party and was just about to check her voicemail when a brand new Beemer stopped in front of Chow’s high-rise and a woman emerged. Hagger shifted his chocolate-covered doughnut to his left hand, which allowed him to zoom in. It was too dark to make out the woman’s features at first, but once she rounded the front end of the car, the glare from a street-light illuminated her badly ravaged face. “My God!” Inez said as she peered at the monitor mounted over Hagger’s head. “It’s Rossi!”

“It can’t be,” Moller said incredulously. “Joe Chow has her.”

“Not anymore,” Inez said grimly, and reached for the side door handle. “She looks like hell—but that’s our girl. Call Hawk. Tell him that Rossi not only managed to escape, but judging from the hardware on the hood of that car, she’s getting ready to visit Samuel Chow.”

When the van door opened Rossi looked up. The FBI agent wasn’t surprised to see an agent get out, but the fact that the agent was Inez brought a smile to her face, and that hurt. “Hi, Olivia. I need some nine-millimeter. Have you got some loose rounds?”

“Damn, girl,” Inez said, as she drew closer. “I’ll get you a rocket launcher if you need one. But not until you come clean. Where the hell have you been? And how did you escape? Every cop in Washington State is out looking for you!”

Meanwhile, as the two agents spoke, the security cameras mounted on the front of the apartment building swiveled around to focus on them. Inez listened in astonishment as Rossi provided a brief synopsis of her capture, imprisonment, and the recent shoot-out. “So Dexter came for you?” the ICE agent demanded incredulously. “How the hell did he know where to look? And why didn’t he call me?”

Rossi shrugged. “It beats me. There were a lot of things I would have liked to ask him but it’s too late now. Once Missy and I were clear, the barge blew up.”

“Yeah,” Inez said in wonderment. “I saw that on TV. They’re still searching for possible survivors. You were damned lucky.”

“Yeah,” Rossi said, remembering the way Dexter had stood there waiting for the snakeheads to make their move. “
Real
lucky. So back to the nine-millimeter…. You carry a Glock—can I borrow a clip?”

“That depends,” Inez answered cautiously. “What are you going to do with it?”

“I’m going to arrest Samuel Chow,” Rossi answered evenly. “He has a lot to answer for.”

“Arrest him for
what
? the ICE agent demanded. “You need probable cause.”

“I have it,” the FBI agent lied. “Joe Chow spilled his guts.”

“But he’s
dead
,” Inez objected. “That won’t work.”

“Why not?” Rossi asked reasonably.

But Inez never got the opportunity to answer the other woman’s question because that was the moment when both of them heard the roar of an aircraft engine and looked up to see that a helicopter was circling Chow’s building. “You see?” Rossi demanded mildly. “My guess is that Mr. Chow is leaving for parts unknown…. Do I get my ammo? Or, do I go upstairs with what I have?”

“You’ll get it,” Inez replied. “Wait here!” The ICE agent ran across the street, entered the van, and was back a few moments later. “Here,” Inez said, as she handed over a box of .9mm rounds. Moller and Hagger arrived a minute later. They wore protective vests and Hagger had armed himself with a Heckler & Koch UMP .40 caliber sub-machine gun. After weeks of sitting around in cramped vehicles he looked happy. “I put in a call to the SPD…The SWAT team is on the way. How do we get in?”

“I have a key,” Rossi said confidently as she inserted a fully recharged clip into the Glock.
“Follow me.”

Both security cameras tilted in and downwards as the sound of the helicopter echoed back and forth between the surrounding buildings and the agents approached the front door. Rossi had a pistol in each hand, and the safety glass shattered into a million pieces as she fired both weapons at once. “All right!” Hagger exclaimed approvingly. “That’s what I call a
key
!”

A security alarm began to bleat as the agents stepped through the empty door frame and entered the lobby. There was a reception desk with a “Closed” sign sitting on top of it, a nicely furnished waiting area, and two banks of opposing elevators. Rossi touched the “Up” button. Stainless steel doors parted and the foursome entered. Inez was armed with a 12-gauge shotgun and it made a distinctive clacking sound as the ICE agent racked the action and pumped a round into the weapon’s chamber. Rossi raised an eyebrow. “What’s with the cannon?”

“Don’t tell anyone,” Inez replied with a wink. “But I forgot my contacts. But it’s hard to miss with a scatter gun—so don’t worry.”

“
Now
she tells us,” Moller said, her Glock at the ready.

Hagger was going to make a comment as well, but Rossi interrupted as double-digit numbers started to appear on the floor indicator and the elevator began to slow. “Get down!” the FBI agent ordered. “All the way down!” and dropped to the floor.

The other agents followed Rossi’s example so that when the car came to a stop all four of them were in the prone position, weapons at the ready. The doors had just started to part company when Hippo pulled the trigger on a fully automatic AK-47. The big man was firing from the hip. The military-style rounds punched their way through the metal facing, whipped over the agents’ heads, and dug divets in the paneling behind them.

Hagger fired two bursts from the Heckler & Koch. The bullets hit Hippo’s lower legs, shattered bone, and brought him crashing down. Bullets from the AK-47 stitched holes up the wall and across the ceiling as the snakehead fell. Seconds later Hagger was kneeling on Hippo’s chest with the SMG pointed at the gang member’s face as Moller patted him down. She removed a 9mm pistol from the big man’s waistband as Hagger used a handheld radio to call for an aid car.

Rossi didn’t know how long it would take Chow to board the helicopter but the FBI agent knew time was of the essence as she tried the door that led from the lobby into the penthouse and discovered that it was locked. “Here,” Inez said cheerfully, “allow me.”

The
Boom
! sounded especially loud within the enclosed space. The handle, the lock, and a sizeable chunk of wood simply vanished. Rossi, who was standing next to the door, reached around to give it a push.

There was no gunfire as the door swung open, so Rossi shouted “FBI!” before entering what appeared to be a small antechamber. The walls were covered in red, black, and gold wallpaper, and an empty aquarium rested on a sturdy stand. A couch sat in front of that.

With no opposition present to slow her down, Rossi positioned herself beside the next door, even as Inez and Moller prepared themselves to provide covering fire. But, before the FBI agent could try the handle, the barrier opened inwards and an immaculately clad houseboy appeared. He bowed. “Good morning,” he said politely. “Mr. Chow see you now.”

Though surprised, Rossi was far from amazed, since a man with Samuel Chow’s resources might fare better by facing the legal system rather than running from it. But it pays to be careful, so the agents followed one at a time, each ready to respond should a snakehead open fire. As Rossi followed the manservant into the great room, she couldn’t help but notice the rich decor. Judging from the well-lit sculptures and carefully placed paintings, the apartment had been
professionally decorated
before
all of the wood, metal, and ceramic serpents had been added.

Samuel Chow sat with his back to the room as the agents entered. His chair made a
whirring
noise as he turned. Although Rossi had never met Samuel Chow face-to-face, she had seen countless pictures of him, and was struck by how ill he looked. For some reason his eyes seemed to bulge slightly, his skin looked gray, and a sheen of sweat covered his forehead. “Please,” the man said, “help me!”

Rossi frowned. “Help you? In what way?”

“I’m not Samuel Chow,” the elderly man explained urgently. “I work as his body double. He left me here to delay you.”

“I’d know that face anywhere,” Moller insisted. “He’s lying.”

“No!” the body double replied. “Look at my wrists!” A blanket had been wrapped around the old man’s shoulders. It was folded shawl-style and held in place with a single bejeweled clip. But his hands were visible, as were his wrists, and Rossi saw that the man in front of her had been secured to the chair with plastic ties.

“Watch out!” Inez cautioned. “There’s something under that blanket!”

The old man uttered what could only be described as a pathetic whimper as the blanket rippled and a Black-Headed python stuck its head up next to the body double’s. It sampled the air with its tongue and hissed menacingly.

Rossi fired the P7 twice. The python’s head flew off, which left its long, sinuous body to thrash around under the blanket. The body double started to scream, but the sound was cut off as the coils around his torso spasmed, and the air was expelled from his lungs. Fortunately, what remained of the snake released the old man after that, leaving him to gasp for air as Moller disconnected the chair’s power supply. “There,” she said. “That should hold him.”

Rossi turned to look for the majordomo, only to find that the man had disappeared. “Chow’s up on the roof by now,” she announced. “There must be a freight elevator! Let’s find it.”

The body double was rocking from side-to-side, still trying to extricate himself from the remains of the snake, as the agents went looking for the service elevator. Moller located the shaft back behind the kitchen. But pushing on the “Up” button didn’t produce the desired response—so Rossi tried the door marked “Exit.” It was locked so the FBI motioned for Inez to join her. “Open sesame.”

There was another loud
boom
as the 12-gauge went off and the locking mechanism was destroyed. “Your wish is my command,” the ICE agent said, as she slipped a replacement shell up into the receiver.

“You’re very kind,” Rossi replied politely as she eased the door open, confirmed that the way was clear, and started up the concrete stairs. The roar of the helicopter’s engine could be heard by then, which suggested that while the aircraft was still on top of the building, it wouldn’t be for long. It was a relatively short climb up to the door that opened onto the roof. It had been propped open and that seemed to be a bit
too
convenient, so Rossi belly-crawled up to the raised sill.

Maybe it was all the cigarettes he had smoked in the past, or a general lack of exercise, but whatever the reason, Weed was bushed. He and Kango had been hard pressed to lift Chow
and
his motorized wheelchair up into the helicopter. But now, just as the snakehead was about to board the chopper, he saw movement by the door. He drew his semi-auto, brought it up, and fired.