White Ghost (32 page)

E
verything set up?” Ah Ming asked his nephew, sitting across the breakfast table in his Hillsborough mansion at daybreak.

Ah Ming viewed Clarence Tung, the oldest son of his sister in Taiwan, as a lesser evil. Time had been short to replace Ah Tien, and trust seemed more important than competence. Until this point, Tung's job had only been to manage East Wind's money, and Ah Ming had paid his nephew's way through the accounting program at San Francisco State to give him the skills he needed to do it. One skill he brought on his own: how not to ask where the enormous amounts of money Ah Ming made were coming from.

A day earlier, Ah Ming told him—and no look of surprise appeared on his nephew's face.

“I checked the Hanjin Global Tracking system,” Tung said. “The container ship docked a few minutes earlier than scheduled. All the containers will be offloaded by this afternoon. Ours should be released between noon and two. We'll start picking up the garlic and heroin from Sunny Glory at about five thirty.”

Ah Ming nodded.

“I'll be doing the surveillance myself, along with four others.”

“I don't want them showing themselves for any reason unless someone makes a move on the container. If that means they have to shit in a pot in the back of the van, then that's what they'll have to do.”

Clarence's face flushed, then he nodded.

“Text me a sixty-six code when the container arrives. Otherwise I don't want any communications with anyone—Sunny Glory, InterOcean, even with the Hanjin Web site—until everything is done.”

After Clarence left, Ah Ming waited ten minutes before heading out to ensure that he arrived at East Wind at the normal time. There would be nothing in his actions this day that would distinguish it from any other. Everything would be ordinary and routine. That was why he was invisible to the white ghosts. It was the reason he'd never been caught. And why he'd never be caught.

A
t 9
A.M.
, Gage drove over to the FBI and ICE raid staging area in a warehouse near the San Francisco Airport, a faded metal building with peeling paint and a refuse-strewn sidewalk concealing a temporary armory. Parked inside he found three Ford Explorers and the van that would carry the ICE search team into East Wind. A communications desk stood in one corner and next to it a GPS monitor to track the device installed on the container. A drug-sniffing beagle lay on the floor with half-closed eyes.

“Hey, old fella,” Gage said to Casey as he walked up, then pointed at the twenty young agents checking their weapons and adjusting their body armor. “I didn't realize these kids were allowed to bring their grandfather along.”

Casey sighed. “And I feel like one.”

“Don't underestimate yourself. I bet you can still bench-press any two of them.”

“Or three of you,” Casey said, surveying Gage's body. “You look even skinnier than last time.”

“That's why I'm glad to be out of this thing.”

“We've got everything covered. You can sit back and enjoy
the show.” Casey pointed at the other agents. “They're like a machine; you'll be amazed at what they can do and how they do it.”

“What are you calling it?”

“Operation Snow White.”

Gage smiled. “I was hoping for the Fall of the Ah Ming Dynasty.”

Casey laughed. “I like that better, but it's too late to change.”

Gage gestured toward the monitor. “What's the latest?”

“ICE said the East Wind container arrived at the port early this morning. The agent told me the load was originally supposed to go to a company called Sunny Glory. It was only transferred to East Wind yesterday, while it was still on the water. The paperwork came in late in the afternoon.”

“If Ah Ming suspected he was under investigation, he'd have let it go to Sunny Glory so there wouldn't be a direct link to him. He must be pretty confident in this load.”

“Big mistake.”

“What time will ICE release the container?”

“Between one and two. We didn't try to expedite it. It'll take its turn just as if no one was watching. We just made sure it wouldn't be selected for a random inspection.”

“I hope they're not going to try to follow it. Ah Ming may have people watching, maybe even try to divert the thing en route to another warehouse.”

“I didn't want them trailing it on the ground.” Casey grinned. “So I let them use what they call a high-flying surveillance platform.”

“What we civilians call a drone?”

“Yeah. Don't you just love these guys? It'll be hovering at about four thousand feet, invisible from the ground. ICE will just be watching, unless something goes wrong. If that happens, we'll”—Casey gestured with air quotes—“interface with them.”

Casey glanced at his watch. “The only hang-up is the duty
judge. He's insisting on a hard copy of the search warrant before he authorizes the search. It's going to cost us some time we can't afford to lose. He got burned on a telephone warrant when the agent misplaced the recording. I've got an agent sitting outside his chambers and as soon as the container starts heading toward East Wind and we're sure the heroin is in it, he'll submit it.”

“What did you use as probable cause in your affidavit?”

“You.”

Gage pulled back. “Me? You weren't supposed—”

“As an anonymous informant. I just said someone called into the drug hotline with a tip.”

“That's not entirely true.”

“It is true, it just isn't factual.”

Gage narrowed his eyebrows at Casey. “When did you start talking like that?”

“I was reading one of my wife's books. It's called
The Greater Truth in the Lesser World
by Dr. Heinrich Weisener. According to Heinrich, there are facts that are uncertain, fleeting, and relative, and then there's truth that is absolute. So I figure as long as there's dope in the container, the affidavit is absolutely true.”

“I don't think that's what he meant.”

“Doesn't have to be. The book said we each have our own truth. So I can believe whatever I want to believe and the judge can believe whatever he wants to believe.”

“Just to be on the safe side, give me the drug hotline number. Somebody better make a call.”

“1-800-Badboys. Ask for Skip.”

“Is the same judge going to arraign Ah Ming?”

Casey shook his head. “Probably not. By the time we get him down to the federal building and booked and photographed, it will be too late. We'll either hold him over till tomorrow or see if we can get a magistrate to stay after hours.”

“Let me know when; I'd hate to miss it.”

“Bring some popcorn.”

“I'll even bring Faith. She's ten minutes away, waiting at my office with Linda Sheridan.”

“For now, why don't you go get set up with our surveillance people outside of East Wind. They're expecting you. It's in a fifth-floor office across the street. It used to be the headquarters for California Seismic Consulting. The nameplate is still on the door.”

“Good choice. With any luck we're going to rock Ah Ming's world. Maybe I should have brought Linda along, I would've liked her to watch Ah Ming being led out in handcuffs. Even though his arrest won't be for the death of her son, at least she'll know the guy will never be getting out of prison.”

Casey nodded. “One way or another, he's gonna die in a federal pen.”

“That was the whole point. All this was set up so Ah Ming gets taken alive.”

Even as he said the words, Gage knew he shouldn't have. Since the infusion he'd been worried the drugs and the weakness would lead him to say and do things that in stronger days he wouldn't have—and he just did.

Casey gave Gage a hard look. “What do you mean, set up?”

Gage waved off the implication. “I just mean how things are supposed to work today.” He pushed the conversation back Casey's way. “Just be careful. Ah Ming isn't a guy who'll want to live in a little box for the rest of his life. And I'd hate to see you get hurt.”

“I was thinking the same thing.” Casey reached down and picked up a piece of body armor large enough to cover him from shoulders to knees. “There's nothing he's got that can break through this. But it was nice to hear your concern.”

“It wasn't my idea,” Gage said, now smiling. “Faith made me say it.”

Casey laughed. “Screw you, too.”

A
t a little after 11:30
A.M.
Gage walked through the front door of the International Trade Building northwest of East Wind. He took the elevator to the fifth floor and entered California Seismic Consulting. He knew one of the two FBI agents manning the post. They'd met at a money laundering conference a few years earlier. Felix Melendez had impressed him as a grunt with a good heart and a man with none of the annoying habits that made a small surveillance room seem smaller.

Even though he'd never seen him before, Gage had no trouble recognizing the other agent, for Casey had described Buddy Eng, a former Oakland Police officer, as looking like nothing so much as an unmade double bed.

“Hey, gumshoe,” Buddy said. “Casey said you'd be coming by. What've you got to do with this?”

“Nothing. I signed up for the cop ride-along program and they sent me over here. They said I could watch you guys give out traffic tickets.”

“No can do. I left my ticket book at OPD when I left.”

“Damn. I always seem to arrive too late for the real action.”

“Have a seat,” Felix said. “Don't mind Buddy. He was hoping
to bust a head or two today, but Casey gave him surveillance instead.” He pointed toward Eng's stomach. “I'll send out for an extra large, all meat and triple-cheese pizza. That'll put him in a better mood.”

Gage looked across the street at East Wind. “What did I miss so far?”

“Ah Ming arrived at about nine.” Felix pointed toward the parking lot. “That's his black Mercedes. He hasn't come out since. The GPS shows the container is still in the bonded warehouse at the port. The latest word is that it's not going to be released until about two.”

“Look over there,” Buddy said. “Ah Ming's on his way to his car.”

“I'll call Casey,” Felix said. “This may screw up the timing. We want Ah Ming there when we go in.”

“You guys have a bathroom around here?” Gage asked, needing a place where he could call Lucy.

Felix made a curving motion with his arm and handed Gage a key. “Down the hall to the left.”

Gage walked into the hallway and pulled out his cell phone. He felt a weary shudder pass through him and his legs weaken. He found that he couldn't target his thumb to search his directory. He leaned back against the wall to steady himself and skimmed down recent calls until he found Lucy's number.

“I just saw Ah Ming leave,” Gage said. “Where's he going?”

“I think just for lunch. He told the receptionist he'd be back for some appointments this afternoon.”

“If anything changes call me. The container's now supposed to arrive at about three, so Sylvia will get there at two thirty.”

Gage thought for a moment; there was something else he was supposed to ask her.

Lucy's voice broke the silence. “Is there anything . . .”

Then it came to him.

“Did you get your personnel file?”

“It was easy. There's this law that companies have to show it to you.” She giggled. “I can't believe they obey a little law like that and break the big ones.”

“That's the key to their success. And the arrival notice from InterOcean?”

“I got it.” She giggled again. “I hope I didn't look too much like I was guarding the fax machine.”

Gage returned to the surveillance office in time to hear Felix ordering the pizza he'd promised Eng.

“You want something?”

“No thanks, just ate.”

Two days ago.

C
hau sat at his desk at Sunny Glory, rubbing his thumbs against his fingers, his legs bouncing under his desk. On the one hand, he was relieved he didn't have to handle the container. He'd heard rumors over the years that the big boss at East Wind was connected with United Bamboo in Taiwan and Thailand. But drugs? No one actually said drugs. All that would happen was that a container would arrive at Sunny Glory and East Wind trucks would come pick up specially marked boxes a few at time. They were always gone in a few hours. It could have been anything hidden inside. And the money was good. In cash and tax free.

On the other hand, what did it mean that East Wind was taking the container directly? Were they cutting him out altogether? If so, he knew he'd have to live a more modest life. He glanced at the Rolex on his wrist and the Mont Blanc pen set on his desk. They reminded him it had been East Wind money that had raised him above the other Asian food importers and wholesalers on the West Coast. Without it . . .

Chau stared at his phone, wondering whether he should call
the president of East Wind. Feel him out about what was going on. No, better wait for Lew to come back. He and Ah Tien had warned him never to contact the boss. If he hadn't yet been cut out of the operation, contacting him now would do that, or worse.

F
elix Melendez pointed at the monitor showing views from the cameras Casey had installed both inside and outside the Golden Mountain Transportation truck.

“The undercover agent just hooked up the container.”

They watched the truck pull out of the Hanjin terminal and work its way toward the freeway. The driver pulled over just before the on-ramp and hopped down.

Side cameras showed him checking the tires, working his way clockwise around the truck and trailer, beating each one with a tire iron and listening to its sound, gauging the tire pressure.

A young man and woman walked by with a leashed beagle that leaped toward the container as it passed. The couple restrained the dog, apologized for its misbehavior, and walked on.

They didn't turn back until the truck drove out of sight.

T
HE WOMAN CALLED
C
ASEY WITH THE RESULTS
.

“Chief, we got it. The dog went nuts, almost snapped the leash.”

“Give it to me.”

“At 2:06
P.M.
at the intersection of Maritime and Alaska
Streets in Oakland, California, Drug Detector Dog Freddie D alerted on Hanjin container EISU5605394/455440 being hauled by Golden Mountain Transportation Services, California commercial license plate number 5J4687.”

Casey radioed the agent standing by the duty judge's chambers and had him fill in the blanks in the search warrant affidavit. Four minutes later, the judge signed the search warrant and thirty seconds after that Casey's radio crackled.

“You're good to go.”

Casey alerted the search team, then called Gage on his mobile.

“It's here, man. It's really here. The dog went berserk.”

Gage stifled a sigh as relief merged with fatigue. No reason for Casey to catch on that the certainty Gage expressed hadn't been the uncertainty he felt, for it was a long, long way from the east coast of China, to the west coast of California, and lots of people were ready to go to any deadly length for heroin worth a billion dollars on the street.

“Then it's all in your hands.”