The Muzzle Job

The shadowy figure lurched out from the dark archway of the Ferry Building with arms outstretched. His hand clamped around my wrist and yanked hard, pulling me back into the black hole he had emerged from.

I went along willingly, leading with a right hook that slammed into the side of his face. Bingo! My attacker let go of me and stumbled back before taking off.

“He's running,” I shouted into my throat mic to a team of agents I had covering me. “Heading north along the Embarcadero.”

That night, I was bait.

Over the last six months, a series of rapes had plagued the Embarcadero: ten, to be exact. The victims were all tourists from out of state, so the mayor of San Francisco had been keen on capturing the rapist before the local headlines became national. That was how my team and I got involved.

“FBI! Stop!” I called out.

My suspect wasn't a huge guy, but these cowards never were. I knew I was on my own until backup caught up with me, but this guy had already cut to the rear of the Ferry Building and was running along the embankment facing the Bay. He would hit a dead end sooner or later.

He cut right and headed down a pier jutting out into the Bay. Off to the side were empty slips. A long warehouse ran the length of the dock. Nowhere to go but straight, and the pier ended up ahead. I had him trapped.

I hadn't drawn my service weapon, which was tucked into a shoulder holster under my leather jacket. I had other plans. I might be short, but I’m speedy. I quickly closed the distance between us.

The end of the pier came up quickly, and my suspect slowed. I didn't, and I slammed right into his back with my shoulder, tackling him to the ground. I quickly mounted him as he squirmed and turned around, swinging a fist at me.

I blocked it with a forearm and struck the same side of his face I'd hit earlier with multiple fist strikes. I could hear the pounding of footsteps coming up behind me: my backup.

“Abby!”

I recognized that voice. It was my partner, Kyle Kang.

I rolled off the dazed suspect. Kang flipped him over, drilled his knee into the guy's back, and handcuffed him in seconds.

“You should have waited,” he said as he looked back at me, breathing heavily.

“I didn't want to lose him.” I stood up and brushed my hands off on my pants.

As the Special Agent in Charge of FBI headquarters in San Francisco, it’s not often I’m used as a decoy. But that's me: I love being in the thick of it, taking down bad guys.

Kang is my second in command. It’s not typical for him to be out here, either. But he is a lot like me. We aren’t stay-in-the-office-paper-pushing type of agents. We’re the knock-them-out-and-cuff-them type. Plus, I always feel a leader should be out front, leading.

Kang searched the guy before lifting him to his feet. I moved in so I could get a better look at his face. He was white, mid-twenties, and had a blonde goatee—the exact same way our victims had described him. No weapons. No masks to hide his identity. He raped the women and then let them go. It was only a matter of time before he would get caught. I was eager to get this guy into an interview room and find out what the hell had motivated him. 

Kang turned our suspect over to a couple of other agents.

“You okay?” he asked me.

“Yeah, I'm fine. But what about you? You looked pretty winded there for a moment. Is your age catching up with you?”

“Very funny. I could say the same for you.”

I struck a double bicep pose. “What are you talking about? I'm in tip-top shape. I got nothing to worry about. And anyway, that was the easiest takedown I’ve had in a long time. Even that serial killer I fought in Yuba City put up a much more impressive fight. And he looked even softer than this guy. Makes no sense.”

“With these criminals, it never does. At least we know your foot is back to one hundred percent. No more lame-foot Abby.”

“Hey, I told you before. My foot wasn't lame. It was on hiatus.” I lifted both of my arms and one foot, so I stood on one leg. “Hi-ya!” I kicked my foot up. “You see? Good as new.”

“Relax, Shaolin master.”

“Catching this guy wasn't that hard. I wonder why SFPD struggled with the case. He had the same approach to every rape. After a third or even second attempt, most serial rapists show signs of improvement. They start to perfect the way they commit the crime, so they don't get caught. Doesn't seem like this guy did. His attempt to make me a victim felt opportunistic…like I was his first. SFPD should have caught him sooner.”

Kang shrugged and then glanced at his watch. “It's a little after ten. You want to get something to eat?”

I didn't answer Kang. The question was rhetorical.