anything.’
Striker smiled. ‘Look at the Fire Department’s report. See the structural engineer who attended for the City.’
Felicia skimmed down the page, found the name. ‘Pevorski. Polish person.’
‘Stefana Pevorski,’ Striker said. ‘Now run her in PRIME.’
Felicia did. When the name returned, she made a surprised sound. ‘It’s a perfect hit,’ she said, meaning all the details matched.
‘That’s because Pevorski is Stefana’s maiden name. She’s been married twice and she’s never corrected it on the work system. Her current married name is O’Riley.’
Felicia looked up from the report, an excited look covering her face. ‘They’re all there then. We got Kwan-’
‘Vancouver Police.’
‘And Chow-’
‘Structural Engineer for the City.’
‘And O’Riley-’
‘Electrical Engineer for Hydro.’
‘And MacMillan.’
Striker tapped on the Fire Department’s folder. ‘Our HAZMAT guy for grow-ops.’
Felicia looked up from the file folders and smiled. ‘That’s a parent for every kid targeted. All four names. Connected.’
‘Plus it explains why Doris Chow and Margaret MacMillan would never have made the link — they probably never even knew.’ Striker bit his lip. ‘We’ve been looking at this the wrong way ever since this nightmare began. The kids aren’t the problem here, Feleesh, they never were. They’re simply pawns in it all.’
Felicia shook her head absently. ‘But why? For a friggin’ grow-op? That doesn’t make sense. We close down pot palaces all the time, so what was different here? What could these people have done that would warrant such a horrific response from any gang?’
Striker led her into the other room, where a large part of the wall was still intact. He pointed at the grey insulation lining all the walls.
‘This is it here, the key to all this.’
‘The stasis-foam?’
‘You bet. The report says it’s more than just a fire-retardant, it’s impossible to X-ray through. And drug dogs can’t detect smells through it. These pockets in the insulation aren’t areas that the fire burned away — look at the ridges, they’re completely uniform.’
‘Then what are they?
‘They’re prebuilt vaults. For cash. We’re standing in the middle of a huge underworld bank, Feleesh. Even this one room alone could hold millions — and we have no idea how many other vaults were burned away in the other rooms. For all we know, the whole house could’ve been built this way. The money stolen could be in the tens of millions.’
‘But why would a gang use a grow-op for a bank when there’s such a high risk of fire?’
‘That’s the key — there’s not. The stasis foam should have prevented that, but this place wasn’t designed for being doused with white gas.’
Felicia ran her finger down the supple edges of the stasis-foam. ‘So you’re saying that Kwan and Chow and MacMillan and O’Riley are.. ’
‘Thieves. Nothing more.’
Felicia thought it through silently, while Striker went on: ‘They found the grow-op, did their due diligence, and later, after the drug teams left and everything was evacuated, they somehow discovered this.’ He pointed to the series of vaults in the walls. ‘A payday beyond what any of them could fathom. More money than they could ever have dreamed about, even collectively. So they took it — maybe as much as thirty million dollars — and then used accelerants to set the house on fire. They thought the place would burn to the ground and cover up their trail. Then they’d lay low for a few years before taking off somewhere else. They thought the gang and the police would never know better.’
‘But they hadn’t counted on the stasis-foam,’ Felicia said. ‘It slowed down the fire and gave the next Fire crew enough time to put out the blaze.’
‘Exactly. And they hadn’t counted on Shen Sun watching from the shadows. My witness, Phyllis, saw him there. Monitoring what they were doing. He knew something was up. Later, he did a thorough investigation of the house, figured out their plan and reported it to his bosses.’
‘The Shadow Dragons?’
Striker shook his head. ‘First off, don’t confuse the gangs. The Shadow Dragons are nothing but a feeder gang for the real baddies — the Triads. More specifically, the 14K Triads — the strongest faction of the worldwide gang. They’re the one every East Asian criminal wants to be a part of. They have all the power, all the history, all the respect. In Canada, their main liaison officer is Sheung Fa, who acts as kind of a bridge between the Shadow Dragons of Vancouver and his boss in Macau — the guy everyone calls Shan Chu. The Dragon Head.’
Felicia made a lost sound. ‘My head is spinning. When did you work all this out?’
‘When I finished talking to Phyllis and was waiting for you. It came together slowly, when I realised what the stasis-foam was being used for — and when Phyllis told me about the Asian guy watching the police from the bushes. That was Shen Sun Soone. So when Pevorski’s married name came up as O’Riley, all the connections were there. Kwan, Chow, MacMillan and O’Riley were stealing from the Triads, and Shen Sun Soon and his Shadow Dragons were sent to deal with it.’
‘So this was all just one big payback? Nothing more?’
‘Oh, it was payback,’ Striker said grimly, ‘but that and a whole lot more. This is the Triads we’re talking about. The 14K. Follow them back throughout their history and they have one main rule: disrespect the gang in any way and you will lose what is most precious to you.’
‘Your children?’
‘Your firstborn,’ Striker said. ‘It was a message being sent — to those who were guilty, and to the rest of the criminal underworld: steal from us — disrespect us — and this is what it will cost you.’ He let out a sour laugh. ‘Jesus, we thought Kwan was delirious back at the hospital, yammering on and on about the house being on fire, and dragons rising up all around her.’
‘She was telling us exactly what we needed to know.’
‘It also makes sense why some of the parents weren’t too willing to meet us. They were afraid. Of us and the gangs. Some of them still have other children to lose.’
Felicia looked ready to say more, but Striker’s cell went off. He snatched it from his belt and stuck it to his ear. ‘Detective Striker, Homicide.’
‘Shipwreck, it’s me.’
‘Meathead?’
‘Yeah. We’re at Shen Sun’s father’s place, down here on Raymur.’
‘And?’
‘It’s all over,’ he said. ‘We got the fucker. He’s dead.’
Eighty-Seven
Once on scene at Raymur, Striker made his way towards the group of ERT cops standing around the fallen gunman on the front lawn. He was almost there when his cell phone rang. He hoped it was Courtney, calling to see if he was all right, calling to say hi, or even argue — he just wanted to hear her voice again.
‘Detective Striker,’ he said.
The voice that responded was high-pitched and nervous, jittery. ‘Detective Striker, it’s me. It’s Joyce.’
It took Striker a second to place the name and voice. Joyce Belle was the mother of Naomi, one of the girls on Courtney’s last softball team. He hadn’t spoken to the woman in over six months. Not since Courtney and Naomi
