Over the Top

by Cindy Dees

  “An hour out of DC, you say?” Spencer asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Catch a nap in place if you need it. Meet us at noon at… I’m going to text you an address in Potomac. Drago and I will meet you there. We’ll put together a plan to catch these bastards, or at least to figure out who the hell they are and what they want.”

  “Any chance you could bring an extra field kit?” Gunner asked. “I’m feeling naked as hell with just a handgun and none of my usual gear.”

  Spencer laughed. “I’ll see what we can scrounge up for you.”

  “See you then. And thanks, Spence.”

  “We take care of our own.”

  “Ooh-rah.”

  Chapter Eleven

  SPENCER STRAIGHTENED his tie as they stepped into the lobby of CIA headquarters in Langley, Virginia. He was here mostly to lend moral support to Drago. It was his first visit back here since they’d both been let go.

  Still, they’d moved on to bigger and better things. They’d finished doing the paperwork to incorporate, although they were still debating what to name their new security company. It would be nested behind several other innocuous tax entities, of course.

  Spencer wanted to call the company something that sounded fierce, but he had yet to land on the perfect name.

  He clipped the visitor’s badge Drago passed him to his lapel, and they strolled over to the wall of stars while they waited for their escort to come get them.

  A rather rumpled, scholarly-looking man greeted Drago with a warm handshake. Drago said, “Good to see you again, Charles.”

  “Good to see you both again,” Charles murmured. His lean features lit with a smile that animated his whole face.

  They followed the CIA analyst to a tiny office off to one side of a cluster of people at desks. The group made up a special strategic analysis unit that Charles headed, according to the plaque in the sliding holder on his office door.

  They piled inside, and Charles closed the door behind them. Spencer’s ears popped a little and he reassessed the door sharply. Soundproof.

  “What can I do for you gentlemen?” Charles asked, donning a pair of horn-rimmed glasses that made him look exactly like an absentminded professor.

  “Have you heard about the shooting up in New Hampshire a few days ago?” Drago asked.

  Charles frowned. “I’m an international specialist.”

  “Right. So, there was a shooting in upstate New Hampshire. A few local cops were killed. Several locals were shot as well. But what nobody except us seems to know is that an Asian child was mixed up in the whole thing and was possibly the target of the shooting.”

  “A child?” Charles blinked a few times. “How old?”

  “Under two years of age.”

  “Children that young are never the targets of assassination attempts. Not unless they’re the heirs to some position of power or a very large fortune. And even then, they’re almost always kidnapped and not killed immediately.”

  Spencer responded, “It’s possible kidnapping was the purpose of this attack. We do know that the adult female who had custody of her was murdered while trying to flee with the child.”

  “Any idea what nationality the child is? Asia’s a rather large place.”

  “My guy thinks she may be Japanese,” Spencer answered.

  “Hmm.” Charles typed on his computer for several seconds and then stared at his screen. Unfortunately, Spencer couldn’t see it from where he sat.

  As the silence dragged out, Spencer got the impression that Charles might have forgotten they were sitting in his office. Drago murmured to Spencer, “Charles’s group runs simulations of global crises. He has access to real-time intel from pretty much all over the world. That’s why I came to him today.”

  Charles jumped without warning, almost as if his chair had given him an electric shock. “What the hell are you involved in, Drago?” the analyst demanded.

  “What did you find?” Dray asked quickly.

  “I just got red flagged. My search parameters were apparently forwarded to the Asia desk, and they’re demanding—aggressively—to know why I ran that particular search. They’re sending someone down to talk to me in person now.”

  Spencer traded startled glances with Drago. What was Gunner tangled up in? And who in the hell was that kid?

  A middle-aged man who looked to be of Japanese descent knocked impatiently on Charles’s door and pushed past Charles before stopping to stare at Spencer and Drago. “Who are these people?” the man demanded.

  “They’re the reason I ran the search. Care to tell us what the red flag is all about?” Charles asked with admirable calm.

  “Come with me, you two,” the man said.

  “We’ve never met,” Drago said smoothly. “Drago Thorpe. Formerly of the Operational Security group. And you are?”

  The OPSEC moniker seemed to take the man aback. As it should. The operational arm of the agency was small but very, very good at what it did. Anyone who worked there was lethal in the extreme.

  “Joe Riyosuki. And you?” he asked, turning to Spencer.

  “Spencer Newman. US Navy retired.” He omitted the SEAL title, not only because it still rankled that he could no longer call himself that, but also because he would rather have this guy underestimate him until they knew what had him so agitated.

  “I need you both to come with me,” Joe said.

  “Where do you want us to go?” Drago demanded suspiciously.

  “Look. This isn’t a request. I’m trying to be civil about it, but I’ll have you both arrested if I have to. It’s imperative that you come with me right now.”

  Spencer frowned. What in the ever-loving hell had Gunner gotten them into?

  They followed Riyosuki to an elevator, and Spencer was alarmed when the man hit a button that would take them below ground level. He glanced at Drago, whose jaw was uncharacteristically tight.

  They stepped out into a parking garage, and Riyosuki led them to a white SUV whose engine was idling. Spencer balked at that. “Joe, my dude, I haven’t known you long enough to get into a car without knowing where in the hell you’re taking me.”

  The guy huffed. “I have to take you to the Japanese embassy right away.”

  Drago’s eyes widened nearly as much as Spencer’s did.

  “Please. This is a matter of international importance and utmost delicacy. If you insist on driving your own vehicle, you can follow me there.”

  Drago nodded stiffly. “I’m driving a silver pickup truck. I’ll meet you outside the main gate in five minutes and we’ll follow you.”

  Spencer followed Drago back to the elevator, and they hurried through the building to the front desk to turn in their visitor’s badges. As they stepped outside, Spencer muttered, “Do you trust this guy?”

  “Yeah. He’s genuinely panicked. He actually broke protocol by not escorting us back to the front desk to check us out. I say we follow him and see what the Japanese are so worked up about.”

  The drive into northwest DC was a nightmare of morning rush-hour traffic, but they eventually arrived at the embassy, a blond brick Georgian mansion set well back from Massachusetts Ave. The guard at the front gate waved them through, and they parked in the circular drive in front of the imposing structure.

  They were shown with impressive speed into a Western-style office, one with tall windows looking out on a gorgeous garden and a massive crystal chandelier dominating the center of the room. A young man served them tea, and then an older man came into the room.

  Joe from the CIA made introductions all around in English, and then took off speaking with their host in rapid Japanese, and Spencer and Drago exchanged glances. Then the man from the embassy said in perfect British-accented English, “Thank you for coming so quickly.”

  “How can we help you, sir?” Drago asked.

  “This is a matter requiring extreme discretion, gentlemen.”

  Drago commented dryly, “Between Mr. Newman and me, we have he
ld most of the security clearances the United States government issues. We’ve worked with extreme discretion for most of our careers.”

  The Japanese man bowed his head briefly. “A Japanese citizen by the name of Kenji Tanaka reported his young daughter missing several weeks ago.”

  Great. This was going to be easy. Gunner would bring the kid to the Japanese embassy, hand her over, and she would be sent home to join her family.

  “You claim to know of a young Japanese child, a girl, who might be his daughter?”

  “We make no such claim,” Drago said cautiously.

  Spencer’s gaze snapped to Drago. Dray’s instincts must have fired off some sort of warning to him. Otherwise he wouldn’t be so cagey with this guy.

  “Who is Kenji Tanaka?” Drago asked politely. Too politely. What did he know that Spencer didn’t?

  The man from the embassy answered, “He is an architect in Tokyo. He designs and builds high-rise buildings and major architectural projects around the world.”

  “So he’s a wealthy man?” Drago followed up.

  “Yes.”

  “Has ransom been demanded for his daughter?” Drago asked.

  “That is sensitive information, sir.”

  “Not really. She was kidnapped, and the kidnappers either demanded money or they didn’t.”

  Spencer frowned. Who would kidnap a little kid and not demand ransom? He pondered that while the man shifted into Japanese with CIA Joe once more. Even though he didn’t speak Japanese, it sounded like Joe was being treated to a solid dose of diplomatic doublespeak that amounted to a nonanswer.

  Joe shrugged apologetically. “He really can’t answer that question.”

  “Because he doesn’t know or isn’t allowed to say?” Drago demanded.

  Spencer was watching the man from the embassy’s face closely when Drago snapped the words, and he saw all he needed to see. A shadow passed through the man’s eyes. The guy knew the answer and was refusing to tell them.

  The man asked, “Do you know where the child is now?”

  Drago glanced at Spencer, who answered smoothly, “No, we don’t. We merely heard that she might have been seen in the vicinity of a crime a while back, and we were asking a few questions about who she might be.”

  “Can you give us any further information that might help us locate her and return her to her father?” the man asked urgently.

  “I’m sorry,” Drago said. “We cannot share any more with you than you’ve been able to share with us. But we do thank you for your hospitality. If we happen to locate the child and can help return her to her father, we most certainly will.”

  Both of the other men looked troubled but didn’t press him and Drago any further.

  Spencer followed Drago from the embassy and, as they drove away, demanded, “What was that all about?”

  “You’ve never heard of the Tanaka family who builds high-rise buildings all over Japan, have you?” Drago murmured.

  “Enlighten me.”

  “They’re only one of the oldest and most powerful Yakuza clans in all of Asia. For decades, perhaps centuries, they’ve controlled the construction industry in Japan.”

  “You think Gunner has landed in the middle of a Yakuza feud? They’re like the Japanese mob, aren’t they?” Spencer exclaimed.

  “Yes, and I think it’s possible. Probable, even. Your boy’s in serious danger if he’s got one of the Tanaka kids.”

  Great. Just great.

  Chapter Twelve

  CHAS LOOKED around in dismay as they got out of the car. They’d driven down back roads to get to this isolated place on the outskirts of the outskirts of Washington, DC, to see some apparently top-flight security types who were friends of Gunner’s.

  When they’d passed through a tall iron security gate, he hadn’t been surprised. But then they’d followed a long driveway winding through what appeared to be nothing more than a farm, with a pasture, a few cows grazing, a big old barn, and a rambling old farmhouse that somebody was doing some work on.

  “This is it?” he asked skeptically.

  Gunner shrugged. “It’s not the place but the people we’ve come to see.”

  “I hope they’re as good as you say they are.”

  One corner of Gunner’s mouth turned up in amusement, but that was his only response. They jogged up the front steps onto a broad covered porch that was begging for a swing to be hung at one end of it.

  “This could be a pretty place when it’s finished,” Chas commented. “A little landscaping, maybe some antique roses, some old-fashioned flower beds. I’d plant tomatoes at that end of the porch—”

  He broke off as the front door opened. A dark-haired man who looked to be of Mediterranean heritage finished the sentence for him. “Tomatoes along with some peppers, both sweet ones and hot ones. Where the sun is strong. That’s the plan next spring, actually. Hi. I’m Drago Thorpe. You must be Gunner. And Chasten, right?”

  Gunner stuck out his hand. “Gunner Vance. And this is Chasten Reed. And this little cutie is Poppy. At least, that’s what we’re calling her.”

  Drago looked at Poppy like she was an alien creature, and Chas grinned. “Right there. That’s exactly how Gunner looked at her a few days ago too. But now he can give her a bath and feed her and dress her and yes, even change her diaper. If you’d like, we can leave her with you for a few days so you get over your terror of children, Mr. Thorpe.”

  “Call me Drago. Or Dray. And that’s okay. I’ll go ahead and hang on to my terror.”

  Someone laughed behind him, a rich, warm laugh. “Let our guests come inside, why don’t you, Dray?”

  They stepped into a big living room with gracious proportions. The furniture looked as old as the house and just as comfortable. In one corner of the large room, a very good-looking man sat at a desk in front of a computer.

  “Hi. I’m Spencer. Welcome, Chas. Gunner.”

  “Hey, boss,” Gunner said.

  “I’m not your boss anymore. I’m just Spencer.”

  “That’s going to take a little getting used to,” Gunner replied.

  Spencer shrugged. “You could always come to work for Drago and me. Then you could call me boss again.”

  “One crisis at a time,” Gunner muttered. But Chas noted sharply that he didn’t turn down the job offer outright.

  Chas put Poppy down on the faded but thick carpet to play and pulled out several of her favorite toys to occupy her.

  Carrying his laptop, Spencer came over to sit on one of the matching sofas while Chas and Gunner took the other. Drago disappeared into the kitchen and came back with four glasses of iced tea. He set the tray down on the coffee table with a flourish. “See? I can be all civilized and polite when I try!”

  Spencer laughed, and Gunner grinned. Chas wasn’t sure what the joke was, but he liked the easy camaraderie between these special operators. It was the most relaxed he’d seen Gunner around anyone else since he’d shown up in Misty Falls.

  Spencer took a sip of his iced tea and then said, “So, you two appear to have gotten yourselves mixed up in quite a mess. Drago and I went to Langley this morning and were all but bodily dragged to the Japanese embassy for a command appearance.”

  “What?” Gunner squawked. “So she is Japanese after all?”

  They all stared at Poppy, who froze and stared back. Chas picked up her stuffed elephant and made a silly trumpeting sound that made her laugh and grab for the toy.

  “Maybe,” Drago answered. “There is a high-profile girl about her age missing in Japan, but we have no confirmation that your kid is that kid.”

  “Who is she?” Chas asked more reluctantly than he’d expected. He actually kind of hated the idea of giving her back to her real family. He knew they would eventually have to give her up, but he’d fallen a little in love with her over these past several days. The stricken look on Gunner’s face indicated that he was in the same boat.

  “It’s possible she’s the daughter of a man named Kenji Tanaka
,” Drago answered.

  “Who’s he?” Chas and Gunner asked simultaneously.

  Spencer shrugged. “I’ve been researching him while we waited for you guys to get here. He’s an architect and heir to a construction and real estate conglomerate. His family builds high-rise apartments and major office buildings all over the world. The Tanakas are stupidly rich.”

  Gunner’s gaze snapped to Poppy. “She’s an heiress? Was she kidnapped? Is that how she ended up in Misty Falls?”

  “Possibly,” Spencer answered. “We’ll have to DNA test her to be sure she’s the Tanaka baby. As for how she ended up in New Hampshire, that’s a mystery to us. Chas, what can you tell us about the woman who brought her to you?”

  He frowned. “Leah Ledbetter. Single lady, lived alone. Quiet. Her son was in and out of jail, though. Maybe he got mixed up in a kidnapping plot.”

  “The son’s name?” Spencer murmured, already typing.

  “Leo.”

  “Got him. Released from jail about six months ago. Rap sheet consistent with low-level gang crime. There’s a note in his record that he’s tattooed consistent with membership in the Oshiro gang.”

  “Who are they?” Chas blurted.

  Drago typed a bit, and then read off the screen, “Yusi Oshiro founded the Oshiro gang in 1985 in Brooklyn, New York. It spread to other major cities, including Chicago, Denver, Dallas, Los Angeles, and San Francisco. Its largest concentrations are in New York City and San Francisco. Thought to be primarily a drug smuggling enterprise. Gang membership is estimated at between three and five thousand.”

  “Five thousand!” Chas exclaimed. “And they’re after Poppy?”

  Drago responded, “Three to five thousand is small as gangs go. Some of the big ones in the US are ten times that size.”

  Chas frowned. “If they’re drug smugglers, what do they want with Poppy?”