Bravo team stepped into view from a doorway under the stairs. “We’re clear downstairs.” Dante put on a Cuban accent. “Three’s waiting at the bottom of the steps, and Seven’s at the back door.”
“Sweep the rest of this floor,” Tanner said. “Two: go with them.”
The three OUTCASTs were back minutes later, along with an Asian man, his hands bound behind his back.
“Security room,” Liam said. “He surrendered quickly. Looks like the place is completely wired for video and sound — including all the bedrooms. Looks like it’s independent of the security system, which means it’s still working. Plenty of video storage space.” He held up a messenger bag. “I pulled all the hard drives. Should be some interesting viewing here.”
“You’re insane!” the madam hollered. “If you take those, not only will the Triad hunt you down, so will a lot of powerful people.”
“Shut up, lady,” Tanner said, ignoring her indignant look and turning to Liam. “Leave by the stairs for now.”
“Rest of the floor is clear,” Liam said.
“Put the guard with the others, then send the women downstairs,” Tanner ordered. “We’ll sweep the other floors. Two, stay here and watch the Madam and her guests.”
The prostitutes were hustled down the stairs. As soon as the last one disappeared through the doorway, Tanner moved to the stairs, followed by Dante and Stephen.
There were two floors above the main floor, one for the clients, and the top floor where the women lived. The sweep through the second floor bedrooms found no one, so they moved up to the third floor. They found three more Chinese women hiding in the cramped rooms, and again utilized the recorded messages to entice them out and lead them downstairs.
Once the new women were headed down to the basement, Tanner stood in the doorway and eyed the Madam. “I want you to give Billy Hong this message: We want Rhee Kyu-chul.”
“Who?”
“He’ll know who I’m talking about.”
The madam glowered at him. “You have no idea what the Black Dao will do you,” she spat.
“Hong will find out what we can do first. Remember, tell Hong that we want Rhee Kyu-chul, or we will take his entire empire down. His choice.”
He turned to the others. “Let’s move.”
The team retreated down the stairs, grabbing the hard drives as they went. Naomi was waiting for them and they retreated through the kitchen, picking up the cell phone jammer on the way to the back door and out the gate. While the rest of them climbed into the back of the truck with the freed slaves, Tanner hopped into the front seat. Choi put the truck into gear and the moved away from the curb. He made a right at the intersection and accelerated, putting distance between the brothel and them.
Tanner pulled off his balaclava. “Prime to all teams. Everyone okay?”
Liam answered for the group. “We’re fine. Some of the prostitutes are going to need medical attention.”
“Casey said there would be medics at the drop-off site. Vess, have you called your friend yet?”
“As soon as the last prostitute was onboard,” the DEA agent replied. “She wasn’t happy to be woken up, but as soon as I told her why I was calling, she was on her way out the door before the conversation was over. I figure she and her news team will be there in fifteen minutes.”
“I’ll make sure she gets the interviews with the prostitutes,” Tanner said. “But it’ll take a few hours to set up, and she’ll have to bring her own translator.”
“Not a problem.”
“Base: Once you get the videos we grabbed, set up an FTP site so Striker’s reporter friend can download the juicy stuff without tracing it back to us.”
“Copy, Prime.”
“Do you have the next target lined up?”
“Sure do. Finalizing the details now. It’ll be tight, but you should be able to hit it and the next one before dawn.”
“Good. I’ll contact you when we’re done delivering these people to safety.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Norman Kwan unlocked the front door and walked into his home. In the hallway, the grandfather clock rang twice, the bell sounding hollow in the empty house. He closed and locked the door behind him, then tossed the keys into the dish on the side table next to the door and walked into the living room.
He was tired. It had been a long day that had started off hard and gotten progressively worse — meetings about the recent incidents, exhaustive discussions about increasing police funding, and making arrangements to personally attend a couple of the slain police officers funerals. It had been the most sober morning he’d ever had as a supervisor.
Then the mayor’s attempted assassination destroyed the last vestiges of normality. The abrupt entry of several SFPD plainclothes detectives into his office while he was talking to the police chaplain was the first sign that the day had gone very, very wrong. His first thought was that he was finally being arrested for spying, but then the senior detective told him what happened to Nicholle Pagliei and that City Hall was on lockdown. He’d been immediately taken to a safe room, along with other city supervisors and senior administrators. They had sat there for hours, trying to piece together what had happened via TV news reports, social media posts and phone calls to anyone who might know what the hell was going on. By the time six o’clock rolled around, they were certain only of the most basic facts.
Kwan had demanded to go to Saint Francis Hospital in order to visit the mayor. The detective in charge had demurred, but Kwan, already drained and stressed out, angrily put his foot down. Seeing no way out, the detective backed down, and they had ridden to Saint Francis in a convoy of half a dozen cars and two dozen armed police officers. The ride had been long enough for Kwan to regain control over his temper, and once they arrived at the hospital, he had apologized to the detective for his earlier outburst over demanding to see the mayor.
The time at the hospital was filled with dread. Kwan had known Mayor Pagliei for fifteen years, and while her personality made it hard to like her, he respected her for her convictions. But seeing her in the bed, surrounded by monitors and IV bags, it was hard to reconcile that with the image of a tart-tongued politician who had been a force in the city for nearly two decades. After three hours, he was told to go home. Home he went to an empty house, with a police presence out front. The morning was going to be a mess — his mess. As President of the Board of Supervisors, he was now the acting mayor.
“Congratulations, Mayor.”
Kwan spun around, at first wondering who would be stupid enough to offer congratulations under such circumstances, but then he realized the words were Korean. Once he framed the speaker in that light, he recognized the voice instantly. Rhee stood there, a thin smile on his face.
“How did you get in here? Police are all over the neighborhood.”
Rhee snorted. “It wasn’t hard. I am trained. They are not.” His smile turned colder. “I didn’t even have to kill anyone.”
“What the hell did you do? The city’s in an uproar. I spent thirty minutes on the phone with the President of the United States trying very hard not to give in to his request and declare a state of emergency. What are you trying to do?”
“It was decided by the Marshal himself that it was time to increase your worth to Pyongyang.”
Kwan felt the fear form in his stomach like a mini-iceberg. The Marshal — Kim Jong-un — was seen by most North Koreans as the closest thing to a living god. But Rhee had come to realize that the current ruler was no different from his father or grandfather — brutal men who ruled with an iron fist and punished entire families if one person stepped out of line. “By trying to kill the mayor? Are you thinking at all?”