Tell My Dad (16 page)

On his left, two big guys smirked. Victor smiled at Scott and said, “Fucking monk!”

Scott leaned his big frame on the window, crossed his hairy long hands over his chest, and looked at Harrison. “You walked into the bedroom to beg
or
fuck?”

Victor laughed loudly as if he had just heard the joke of the year. His big belly swung up and down as he laughed. He threw a high five to Scott, to appreciate the rhyme. He pointed at the steel belt wrapped around the monk’s waist. “Look at that! The
monk
needs a metal belt to keep his stupid gown from falling down!”

They laughed again.

Marco was not in a mood to appreciate the rhyme or the dry humor. He had been boiling with anger for the last twelve minutes, since he had to face the monsters with the MAC-10 in their hands. Now, he had to deal with a
monk
. He turned to Hector and shouted, “Why the hell did you bring this beggar here? Kick him out.”

Hector shook his head as he moved back to the corner of the massive bedroom, across from the door. He looked around to see if he could grab a sharp object to throw at the man. Nothing.

Victor laughed again after watching the horror in Hector’s face. He pointed his finger at Marco and said, “Man, your brother is a chicken!”

Marco gritted his teeth, rolled to his left, and jumped off the bed. He took quick stride toward the door, curled his right fingers into the palm, and used his knuckles to throw a punch at the monk.

Harrison quickly retracted his right leg from the door and used it to throw a round kick into Marco’s chest.

Intense pressure on the chest and stomach caused Marco to destabilize. He burped as he fell hard on the floor.

Victor dropped his smile and tightened his grip on the MAC-10 while Scott fixed his gaze on the monk.

“What is that? Kung fu?” Scott mocked in a Chinese accent.

“No.
Krav maga
would be the right answer.” Harrison moved forward toward the big guys, as he scanned to his right to make sure Marco and Hector stayed where they were.

Victor sensed the danger and held the gun steady. “Stay where you are. I will blow your head off!”

Harrison stood silent for a second. Then, he gently placed his right hand on his hip and quickly removed the shiny steel belt from his waist and uncoiled it.

In a second, the steel belt rapidly morphed into a long, flexible curling sword composed of six steel blades, each about sixteen feet long. Harrison wielded the sword and spun it as he moved forward toward Victor, who took three seconds to realize what was going on.

Harrison moved fast and whipped the sword across Victor’s right hand. The sharp steel blade cut through Victor’s flesh right below the cobra tattoo on his biceps and made him drop the gun.

In about eight seconds, the blades cut through Victor’s entire body. He screamed with pain.

Harrison kept swinging the sword as he took a few steps backward and scanned his right side. Marco stood up and moved his right leg backward, apparently preparing to attack Harrison on his side. Hector leaned on the wall and watched in horror.

Harrison scanned to his left and kept an eye on the open door as he kept swinging the curly sword.

Victor fell on the hardwood floor on his big belly, which created a sound like a metal rod hitting a wooden drum. Blood gurgled from the side of his neck. His eyes widened in horror when he spotted his amputated right hand lying in the pool of blood.

Scott recovered from the shock, quickly fetched the MAC-10 that lay on the floor, and leaped forward with rage. He started firing at the monk, who rapidly spun to avoid the fire path.

Harrison heard bullets flying dangerously close to his right ear. He immediately sat on the floor on his left palm, extended his right leg for support, and swung the blades rapidly to his right. Multiple blades sliced through Scott’s legs before he fell down on his face.

Harrison quickly stood up and continued to whip the blades to slice through Scott’s shoulder and neck.

He moved to his side as he kept swinging the steel blades vigorously.

Marco moved backward and stopped as he hit the wall. Just then, he noticed Hector sliding down the wall and onto the floor, clutching a bullet-ridden chest. The MAC-10’s stream of bullets had found a home in Hector’s body.

Marco threw a fist into the wall and shouted, “Who are you, man? Just stop it. My brother is shot.”

Harrison stopped spinning the blades, looked at the girl for a second, and faced Marco, who continued to talk, “Listen—take the girl. Take whatever you want. Call an ambulance. My brother is shot. Don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

Harrison twisted his lips as he coiled the long steel sword into a belt. “Don’t do anything stupid?
You
’re telling me?” In a blink, he leaped forward and threw a round kick into Marco’s stomach, which pushed him closer to the wall.

In a split second, Harrison pushed his right arm hard into Marco’s throat.

Marco choked and closed his eyes as his head banged on the wall behind him. He stammered. “Okay, okay, we made a mistake. Okay? Just call the cops. Don’t kill me.”

“I am
the
cop.” Harrison paused for a second. “I am
the
judge. Get it?” He pushed the arm further.

Marco struggled to speak. “We were asked to kidnap the girls. It’s not our fault.”

Harrison loosened the grip a little. “Who asked you to kidnap her?”

“His name is Bob. That’s all I know. I met him in a bar in Half Moon Bay. I am just a handler. He has many handlers to kidnap girls. I don’t know what he does with these girls. Please trust me on this. I am deep in debt. I needed to pay off those guys.” Marco pointed at the fallen sumo wrestlers.

“How do you plan to hand over this girl to
Bob
? Will he come here today?”

“No. I don’t even know his number. He calls my cell and gives me the location. We go and drop the girl. That’s how it works.”

“What was your last drop-off point?”

Marco thought for a second. “San Mateo Fairgrounds. It changes every time.”

“How many girls have you dropped off so far?”

Marco quickly spoke. “Just one. This will be the second girl.”

“I don’t believe that. Tell me the truth. You were monitoring the girls. I was monitoring you scumbags. The way you took this girl today, it did not appear like an amateur job. Tell me the truth. How many girls have you sold to that bastard?”

“Just one. Seriously man…” Marco begged.

Hector applied pressure to his chest, moved his back against the wall, and stretched his legs as he struggled to speak. “There was another girl—last year.” He closed his eyes and put his head down. Fear of death engulfed him. “Just tell him, Marco.” Tears dripped from his eyes.

“How old was she?” Harrison tightened his grip.

“Five.” Marco’s voice was adenoidal.

Harrison felt the pressure in his sinuses. He closed his eyes for a second, sniffled, and asked, “Where is she?”

“We buried her in the backyard. She tried to escape—” Marco gasped.

Harrison applied pressure aggressively until Marco stopped resisting. Then, he wrapped his right arm around Marco’s neck, snapped it, and pushed the dead body down onto the floor.

He moved quickly, checked the pulse of the girl, and then walked toward Hector, who was already dead.

A
ckerman and Walker
held the guns steady and combed through the living room and kitchen. Ackerman spotted a submachine gun on the couch and signaled Walker to check out the second level. When Walker stormed through the master bedroom door on the right, he saw the guy staring at him with dead eyes and a bleeding chest. He turned to the left. Two big guys lay semi-naked and dead in a pool of blood. His mind reached the possibility of a gang war when he saw the cobra and dragon tattoos on the big arms of both fellows—until he spotted the unconscious girl on the bed. She was wrapped up in a green comforter. On her right, there was graffiti on the wall. Two words were written with smudged big red letters.

“STAY AWAY.”

Red paint, maybe blood, dripped down the wall. He held the gun steady in his right hand and slowly moved closer to the girl. He scanned the room one more time, leaned down, and checked her pulse.

He rubbed his nose and raised his brow after seeing the laceration on the girl’s wrists. He called the dispatcher to confirm the ambulance’s ETA. As he ended the call with the dispatcher, Ackerman’s voice came through his Bluetooth. “Walker, a guy is dead down here in the backyard.”

“Stay there. I see three dead bodies here. The girl is alive, but not conscious. I’ll come down.”

Walker scanned the room one more time. He noticed the window broken behind the bed and leaned forward into the window. He could see Ackerman’s shaved head facing the ground. In front of him, a body was lying on the ground. It was not really a body; there was no head. A headless, handless torso had been thrown fifteen feet down.

He quickly moved out of the room and checked the other rooms on the second level. There was no one. He heard the loud ambulance sirens. He ran downstairs, briefed the ambulance personnel about the girl upstairs, and then walked across the living room to reach the door opening to the backyard.

Ackerman turned around. “It’s quite a scene here. This guy is cut into pieces and scattered around the backyard.” He pointed at the left corner. “Look. There are two hands and…” He paused and pointed to the right corner. “The legs are lying there.”

“Barbaric,” Walker murmured.

Ackerman rubbed his temple. “It’s not just that. This guy was pushed from that window.” He pointed at the bedroom window upstairs. “Look here, all glass pieces.” Now, he pointed at the bloody path on the ground. “The guy was pushed down from there, dragged down this way, and cut into pieces.”

He looked over the fence surrounding the backyard. “We need to talk to the neighbors. I would be surprised if no one saw this butcher cutting people into pieces.”

Walker nodded. “Hmm, not sure what happened.” He pointed to the body pieces lying on the ground. “We need to connect these pieces and find out what the hell happened in this place. Three dead guys upstairs. One guy down here in pieces. A girl up there…none of this makes sense.”

“Lieutenant, the FBI is here.” A voice came from behind.

Ackerman turned around and saw Detective Aguinaldo standing near the door.

“Really? That was quick.” He pointed at the bloody path on the ground. “Get forensics here.”

Detective Aguinaldo nodded and leaned against the wall to make way for Ackerman to move inside. Ackerman quickly jumped into the living room and noticed emergency personnel carrying the girl on the stretcher. The oxygen mask had hidden most of her bruised face.

He climbed upstairs and entered the large bedroom swamped with cops and FBI agents. A man in his mid forties kept taking photographs. Two men and a young woman stood near the broken window and faced the door. One of them smiled at Ackerman, moved closer, and extended his arm.

“Good to see you, Lieutenant.” Agent Theaker shook Ackerman’s hands and pointed to the other man. “This is Agent Jones.” Then, he pointed to the woman. “This is Samantha Cruz. She’s an intern. Berkeley student. Smart kid.”

Ackerman smiled slightly and shook hands with both of them. “I am Lieutenant Ackerman.” He added, “I worked with Agent Theaker on a couple of cases.” Then, he turned to Theaker and said, “This is going to be a memorable one.”

“Why is that?”

“There are body pieces in the backyard. The killer used the dead guy’s phone and called 911. He left a message in a robotic voice and said that the high school girl kidnapped from Belmont could be found here. We got here in seven minutes.” He paused. “I am super glad that the girl is alive.”

Theaker nodded. “Did you say body
pieces
?”

“Yes, sir! The killer is some kind of a butcher.” His gaze fixed on the graffiti on the wall. “
Stay Away
? Is this the same guy?”

Theaker nodded. “Yes, apparently. This could be a copycat. There are a couple of differences between this and the previous murders. In the previous instances, the killer used permanent marker and wrote it on the foreheads of the victims. This one—” He pointed to the graffiti and continued, “It could be blood or paint. We don’t know. We need to wait for the lab results. One more thing—a different kind of weapon was used here.” He dropped to his knees and pointed to the big guys lying dead on the floor.

“Look at all these cuts. Whatever that weapon is, it sliced through the skin, like a knife on a banana.” Jones and Ackerman joined Theaker, looked at the multiple slices on Scott’s torso, and shook their heads.

Samantha broke the silence. “I think I know what the weapon is.”

Theaker looked up.

Samantha sat on her knees to level up with her new boss. “I think it’s a
urumi
.”

“Urumi? What kind of name is that?” Ackerman asked.

“It is a weapon used by warriors in the southern part of India in the olden times, a few hundred years ago. I have seen people using this weapon. It’s effective to handle multiple opponents.”

“Where did you see this weapon?” Jones asked.

“In a place called Kerala, in South India. I went there when I was junior in high school. I volunteered for a nonprofit to teach schoolchildren in rural areas. We were there for the entire summer. Local people taught us their martial arts,
Kalaripayattu
. It was like a much older version of kung fu. Anyways, the urumi is a weapon with multiple steel blades. It’s a long sword made of flexible steel, sharp enough to cut into flesh, but flexible enough to be rolled into a tight coil.” She pointed to the slicing in Scott’s stomach. “The skin is sliced simultaneously. Probably six blades together. Look at how deep the wounds are. I am pretty sure it’s a urumi or a weapon like that.”

“You think the killer came from India or got trained in India?” Ackerman looked bewildered.

Theaker answered before Samantha could say a word. “Let’s not speculate anything. Let’s see what the forensics say about the weapon.” He looked at Ackerman and said, “Okay, let’s go and look at the body
pieces
you talked about.”