attention she’d stored up for them all week long, then get on the computer and start doing some research into last year’s Richard Stockton graduating classes—both undergrad and grad—and departing faculty members. She’d coordinate her efforts with Derek’s and those of the Newark field office. There was more than enough work for all of them. Hundreds of the people who’d lived or worked at Stockton last year had since moved on to other endeavors. Any one of them could be a potential witness.
On that thought, Sloane felt the Boeing 737 slow down and ease around to the terminal, where it stopped. A minute later, the “Fasten Your Seat Belts” sign chirped and went off. That was all the permission Sloane needed. She grabbed her suitcase from the overhead bin, and by the time the cabin door opened, she was making her way to the front of the plane.
Before the other passengers had even stretched their legs and collected their things, Sloane was off the plane, down the ramp, and sprinting through Newark Airport.
9:15 P.M.
Derek was hoping for a quiet night.
He was pretty wiped out from the week. He could count the number of hours he’d slept since Monday on two hands. And, since he wasn’t assigned to tonight’s surveillance, he’d spent an entire day gathering information on rival gangs who might want to stir up trouble between the Red Dragons and the Black Tigers. He felt perfectly justified accepting Tony’s offer when his boss had told him to go home and have a weekend.
He’d left about seven o’clock, picked up a couple of groceries, and driven home to his midtown east apartment. The high-rise he lived in was on Second Avenue, close enough to the noise of the Midtown Tunnel to make it affordable. That wasn’t a problem; Derek could sleep through anything—or stay awake through anything, whichever was required. As for the apartment itself, it was tiny—not even five hundred square feet including the bedroom, kitchenette, and bathroom.
On the other hand, it had its perks. The place had just been renovated, there was a doorman around most of the time, and Derek had secured a parking space in the underground garage. And since he drove his Bureau car back and forth to work each day, that meant one less headache. Parking spaces in Manhattan were on the endangered species list. So, all in all, he had a good living arrangement, at least for the time being.
He let himself in, changed his clothes, and cooked his dinner. He was sitting at the kitchen table, enjoying his pepper steak and scanning the local sports section to see when the Yanks’ opening game would be, when the phone rang.
He groped for his cordless phone, and answered. “Hello.”
“Hey,” Jeff greeted him.
Derek made a grunting sound. “Aren’t you sick of me yet? We spend more nights together than a married couple.”
“Actually, yeah, I’m very sick of you. So’s my wife. She’s glaring at me as I speak. But Gleason called right before I left. I wanted you to hear this ASAP .”
“I can hardly wait.”
“The NYPD found another one of Xiao Long’s girls, this time in an abandoned Chinatown tenement just a couple of blocks from the Nom Wo Club. Same MO—she was drugged, raped, throat slit with a combat knife, and one of those python coins left at the scene. Although evidently, this time the sexual assault and the murder were more graphic and more violent. I don’t have all the details. But Gleason’s description wasn’t pretty.”
“How long ago was she killed?”
“That’s the kicker. According to the medical examiner, the time of death was between five and six A.M.—yesterday.”
“Yesterday.”
“Today?”
Derek’s fork struck the table with a thud. He’d assumed the body had been there longer, and had only just been discovered. “We’re talking right after our stakeout.”
“Gleason said she lived near the Nom Wo Club. He figures she was on her way to Xiao Long’s brothel to work around the same
On that thought, Sloane felt the Boeing 737 slow down and ease around to the terminal, where it stopped. A minute later, the “Fasten Your Seat Belts” sign chirped and went off. That was all the permission Sloane needed. She grabbed her suitcase from the overhead bin, and by the time the cabin door opened, she was making her way to the front of the plane.
Before the other passengers had even stretched their legs and collected their things, Sloane was off the plane, down the ramp, and sprinting through Newark Airport.
9:15 P.M.
Derek was hoping for a quiet night.
He was pretty wiped out from the week. He could count the number of hours he’d slept since Monday on two hands. And, since he wasn’t assigned to tonight’s surveillance, he’d spent an entire day gathering information on rival gangs who might want to stir up trouble between the Red Dragons and the Black Tigers. He felt perfectly justified accepting Tony’s offer when his boss had told him to go home and have a weekend.
He’d left about seven o’clock, picked up a couple of groceries, and driven home to his midtown east apartment. The high-rise he lived in was on Second Avenue, close enough to the noise of the Midtown Tunnel to make it affordable. That wasn’t a problem; Derek could sleep through anything—or stay awake through anything, whichever was required. As for the apartment itself, it was tiny—not even five hundred square feet including the bedroom, kitchenette, and bathroom.
On the other hand, it had its perks. The place had just been renovated, there was a doorman around most of the time, and Derek had secured a parking space in the underground garage. And since he drove his Bureau car back and forth to work each day, that meant one less headache. Parking spaces in Manhattan were on the endangered species list. So, all in all, he had a good living arrangement, at least for the time being.
He let himself in, changed his clothes, and cooked his dinner. He was sitting at the kitchen table, enjoying his pepper steak and scanning the local sports section to see when the Yanks’ opening game would be, when the phone rang.
He groped for his cordless phone, and answered. “Hello.”
“Hey,” Jeff greeted him.
Derek made a grunting sound. “Aren’t you sick of me yet? We spend more nights together than a married couple.”
“Actually, yeah, I’m very sick of you. So’s my wife. She’s glaring at me as I speak. But Gleason called right before I left. I wanted you to hear this ASAP .”
“I can hardly wait.”
“The NYPD found another one of Xiao Long’s girls, this time in an abandoned Chinatown tenement just a couple of blocks from the Nom Wo Club. Same MO—she was drugged, raped, throat slit with a combat knife, and one of those python coins left at the scene. Although evidently, this time the sexual assault and the murder were more graphic and more violent. I don’t have all the details. But Gleason’s description wasn’t pretty.”
“How long ago was she killed?”
“That’s the kicker. According to the medical examiner, the time of death was between five and six A.M.—yesterday.”
“Yesterday.”
“Today?”
Derek’s fork struck the table with a thud. He’d assumed the body had been there longer, and had only just been discovered. “We’re talking right after our stakeout.”
“Gleason said she lived near the Nom Wo Club. He figures she was on her way to Xiao Long’s brothel to work around the same
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