Page 5 of Wild Fever
The special agent cleared his throat and began again. “Mr. Wei, this is a federal investigation. We have taken control of the crime scene. Rest assured, we will share information with you as it becomes available.”
Mr. Wei wasn’t taking no for an answer. “I demand transparency. Mr. Yan was a respected businessman and loyal citizen. As a matter of International Law, I demand access to the remains, and I must be allowed to take possession of Mr. Yan’s personal property.”
“I’m sorry, but this is an ongoing homicide investigation under the Bureau‘s jurisdiction. You can submit any requests you may have through official channels.”
“This is unacceptable,” Mr. Wei said, growing louder, losing his patience with this nitwit.
Two senior agents stepped to the door to handle things. One had slicked-back brown hair with a slightly receding hairline and the weary face of a man who’d taken all the shit he was going to take. Near 40, his partner was about the same age, but had the build of a football coach. At 6’2”, with a face like a pit bull, he didn’t have to suffer many fools.
The lead agent said, “I’m Special Agent Stratton. This is Special Agent Ward,” he said, pointing a thumb at the pit bull. In a calm, measured voice, he continued, “Rest assured, we’ll be coordinating with your consulate as this situation develops. This is an active crime scene, and it remains under Bureau control. I can assure you that all of Mr. Yan‘s personal items will be returned once our forensic team has had time to evaluate the evidence. We are aware of the delicate nature of this incident and, of course, express our deepest sympathies to your government and the family of Mr. Yan. This matter has our full attention, and we will pursue it to its ultimate conclusion. Justice will be served.”
“I demand a full list of Mr. Yan’s possessions and await their expedient return.”
“The Bureau will provide you with a full inventory. Keep in mind, evidence will be retained until the investigation is completed.”
We all knew it could take years to work through the system.
At least the feds were taking the heat, not us.
“I’m sure you’re aware of the delicate nature of this situation,” Mr. Wei said. “A lack of cooperation and transparency could be seen as a hostile act by my government. I will be voicing my complaints with your state department.”
“Mr. Wei, perhaps I wasn’t clear when I said we will share information as it becomes available. I’m as disheartened about this incident as you.”
“I doubt that. It would be wise to include me and my team in the official investigation.” It was almost a threat.
Another gentleman in a suit had arrived. He’d been watching the interaction and took the opportunity to step in. He was in his mid-30s and wore a dark suit and maroon tie. His slick head gleamed in the Florida sun.
He put a comforting hand on Wei’s arm and spoke in a soft tone. “Mr. Wei, Scott Blalock, State Department. I understand your frustration. This is a terribly upsetting situation.” He guided Mr. Wei down the path, away from the cabana. "We will share everything with you as soon as reasonably possible. I promise you. I'm sure both our governments would like to avoid an international incident. We want to make this investigation as smooth and transparent as possible.”
The conversation trailed away as they walked down the path.
JD and I watched for a moment. Whatever he said to Mr. Wei settled him. After a few moments of conversation, they shook hands and Mr. Wei left, heading down the pathway to the parking lot.
Mr. Blalock returned and had a few words with the FBI special agents. By that time, another guy had emerged from the cabana and joined the feds. He was early 30s with shaggy, sandy-blonde hair, a muscular physique, and a trimmed beard. The tight olive T-shirt showed off his time at the gym. The khaki cargo pants and sneakers made him look like any other tourist on the island.
He had to be a spook. He certainly wasn’t FBI. The guy had the vibe of former spec-ops. He was CIA, no doubt about it.
Paris and her crew soaked up everything.
I pretended to fumble around on my phone for a moment and snapped a photo of the CIA guy. Then JD and I took the opportunity to introduce ourselves to the feds. I smiled and handed them a card. “We’re with the county. Special Crimes. We're here if you need anything. Don't hesitate to get in touch."
"Thank you, we appreciate your cooperation," Special Agent Stratton said.
He slipped the card into his pocket, and we didn't stick around to chit-chat. JD and I left, drove back to the station, and filled out reports.
I called Isabella and asked for another favor. With everything we'd been through, she was eager to lend a hand. As the head of one of the largest off-the-books clandestine agencies, she could find out just about anything about anyone.
5
“I’ve got no other cellular devices in the Pineapple Cabana at the time of death, other than Mr. Yan’s,” Isabella said when she called.
“What can you tell me about the guy?”
“At first glance, Yan is a multi-billionaire real estate developer. Owns massive amounts of land in the U.S.” Her fingers tapped the keys. “According to media reports, he’s in town for another real estate deal. Trying to acquire the Seabreeze Harbor marina. I’m going to dig a little deeper and see what I can find. But I can tell you, there’s something more here than meets the eye. The guy you sent me a picture of… Mr. Casual… he’s definitely CIA. Name’s Jeb Walker.”
"Not unusual, given the circumstances," I said.
"There's no doubt in my mind Mr. Yan is more than just a real estate developer. I think you and I both know what's going on, and this situation could get sticky.”
