Drawn in Blood (Burbank and Parker 2)
“Which the police would have no reason to do, since they’re concentrating on the burglaries as a whole.”
“Exactly. But Sloane’s an art dealer’s daughter. She knows prices. So she zeroed in on it right away.”
“Intriguing twist.” Rich’s interest was definitely piqued. “They camouflaged their real targets by ripping off a bunch of high-priced stuff they could fence on the streets. Between the two, they made a mint.” He glanced at Derek’s desk. “Do you have those police reports? I never did see the full list of stolen paintings. You just ran a few of them by me.”
“Yup.” Derek passed them across to Rich. “Take a look.”
Rich scanned the sheets one at a time. “Sloane’s right,” he concluded. “There’s a definite pattern here. A few valuable paintings, a few average-priced ones. The odd part is that not all the valuable paintings are well known. Some are pieces whose value only an art connoisseur would recognize.”
“Sloane said the same thing. Which, to me, says that Xiao Long is working for someone. He’s a power-hungry street thug. His cold-blooded aggression and inborn street smarts are what made him a Dai Lo. The Red Dragons are a hundred percent loyal to him—and a thousand percent terrified. I’ve seen what he does to gang members who screw him over. It isn’t pretty. But refinement? A knowledge of fine art? Xiao wouldn’t know a Renoir from a finger-painting.”
“But whoever’s paying him does.” Rich lowered the reports to Derek’s desk. “I agree. Your Xiao Long case is looking more interesting by the minute. First the tie to the Rothberg, and now a string of robberies that scream art theft.”
Derek nodded. “I wonder if whoever’s paying Xiao to steal these paintings is the same person who hired him to kill Cai Wen and steal the Rothberg.”
“Funny, I was wondering the same thing.”
“It would make sense. He can’t fence well-known paintings on the street. He’s sending them somewhere, and to someone. I’d be willing to bet that someone is in China. Further, I’d be willing to bet he’s a triad leader. It would explain a hell of a lot about how Xiao got his start, and where he’s getting his financing to move up to the big-time.”
“All our leads point back to the Rothberg.”
Derek nodded. “Let me know as soon as you hear who that Dutch collectors’ dirty dealings were with. And if any of them were Chinese.” A pause. “In the meantime, I don’t trust Burbank’s partners. And that doesn’t just apply to the possibility that one of them aided in the break-in at his apartment. Even if it turns out that none of his pals helped the Red Dragons get inside and grab the Rothberg file, my gut tells me that one or more of them is involved in something shady. Whatever that is, I need to know. Sloane’s in enough danger from Xiao Long—and she knows he’s the enemy. The last thing she needs is to be victimized by someone she considers a friend.”
“I understand. And I’ll get you what you need.” Rich got to his feet. “Just find me my gun dealer. Then, give me a couple days to verify names of our Dutch collector’s dirty contacts. After that, I’ll call Fox, Johnson, Martino, and Leary. We’ll have plenty to talk about. I’ll ask each of them to come in—separately—for a follow-up interview.”
“That’ll throw them for a loop.”
“Which is precisely what I want.”
Lee Wong Kee, the skinny Red Dragon kid who’d attacked Sloane, awaited his fate.
For what seemed like forever, he’d hung in complete darkness, the back of his jacket impaled on a meat hook inside a walk-in refrigerator in Wah Chang’s butcher shop. He was paralyzed with fear.
At the outside wall of the refrigerator, Jin Huang reached up, flipped on the light, and opened the heavy door for his boss.
When Lee saw Xiao enter, his insides clenched. He stammered yet another apology, and begged forgiveness from his Dai Lo for his failed mission. Xiao didn’t reply. He just donned a pair of gloves, then reached into his coat pocket and extracted a piano wire with a bamboo block attached to each end.
He nodded to Jin. In response, Jin grabbed Lee’s head, gripping it tightly in his big hands. Lee cried out in pain, then screamed for mercy. Xiao ignored his pleas. Silently, he wrapped the piano wire around a side of beef that was hanging inches from Lee’s face, and pulled.
The powerful motion severed the carcass in two. A huge slab of meat thudded to the floor.
Xiao turned to Lee, reaching out to pat his Adam’s apple. “Next time you fail, I use your neck instead.” He grasped Lee’s collar, and pulled the wire through a fold in the fabric to wipe off the bloody residue.
Pocketing the thin but lethal weapon, the Dai Lo nodded to Jin, turned away, and walked out. Without a word, Jin lifted the kid off the meat hook, took out a switchblade, and cut the ropes binding his hands.
Lee dropped to his knees. Jin stepped over him. As he left, he could hear the sound of the Red Dragon kid retching uncontrollably.
Cindy was in an excellent mood as she headed off to her next appointment. She’d just secured her first six-figure town-house renovation project, thanks to the debut party at Wallace’s. She’d e-mailed him right away, brimming with enthusiasm over the news. He’d responded in kind. Everything was on track.
She would call her A Sook about this new development right away. He’d be so pleased by her escalating accomplishments—all of them.
The package he’d sent had already arrived. Now there was twice as much reason to gift it to Wallace.
Tuesday night’s date promised to be an evening to remember.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
ARTHUR AVENUE