The grounds were dark. No high-intensity floods. On the other side of a window, lights burned with a ghostly glow somewhere inside the house. Crewcut was in there with at least three other men. There was no telling what weapons they had. But he was sure of their willingness to use them.
The wildcard was Lieutenant McMasters. How far would he go?
No different than the others.
Jack knew it was foolish to sneak onto the grounds of the estate armed with only a shotgun and five shells. And the more he thought about it, a hundred reasons came to mind why he should walk away now and join his brother and friends in a good night’s sleep. But he kept thinking about bombs attached to fuel tanks and Dana dying and him not being able to save her and being attacked on Robert’s boat and being shot at. And the cruelty Crewcut inflicted on Maiko.
He opened his door, slid out with the shotgun, and eased it shut. And when his vision cleared, he walked the roadway to the estate.
He’d scale the seawall, pick his way through the grounds in the dark, and search the house room by room until he found the man haunting his life. Then he would wake him. And at that moment of realization, when he recognized who had come for him in the dark, he’d give him exactly what he deserved and flee the way he’d come.
No one would be in danger—not Deacon, not Robert, not Kazuko, not Kimo. None of the people he worried about.
Only him and the man he hunted.
It wasn’t much of a plan but it had taken shape in his gut, so clear that it removed all doubt.
This was the only way to balance the scales.
An eye for an eye.
With the rocks the same color as the night, it was difficult to distinguish one from another. Which made the going treacherously slow. Walking by brail. Feeling his way with his free hand. Searching for solid footing. Taking his time.
Finally he was standing on the gravel at the base of the seawall. The man-made stone was rough under his touch. Erosion having taken a toll.
The easy part.
Continue or turn back?
The point of no return.
On the walk down the slope to the water’s edge he had seen no life in the house. Only the dim glow of the light somewhere within.
From the wall, he could see nothing.
He listened.
Only the chirp of night bugs.
The top of the concrete barrier was a foot above his head. He laid the shotgun on the top edge and hoisted himself up. And for a moment balanced himself there, getting his bearings.
Till now, he hadn’t thought about his tanned skin, blue Jimmy Buffet t-shirt, and his Khaki-colored bush shorts standing out in the night. Even without a moon.
He wished he was wearing camouflage clothing and a painted face.
Commando dress.
But this was the best he could manage.
A sense of urgency prodded him forward. Time was running out. This was his only chance.
He picked up the shotgun and scanned the grounds. The estate was bathed in shadow from the trees and mature plantings skirting the property. The residence was straight ahead. Fifty feet to the right of that sat a darkened building. Possibly a garage or workshop. Coarse grass that needed mowing covered the ground between him and his objective.
Move straight toward the house, he thought. Squat by the bushes there. Try not to trip on anything.
He ran in a crouch. And made it halfway.
The toe of his shoe hooked a sprinkler and sent him tumbling.
He managed a roll and came up on his knees with the shotgun held at port arms.
His breath rasped in his ears. His heart pounded harder in his chest.
He was sure it could be heard by anyone awake inside.
For a moment, he looked and listened. Letting himself calm.
Hearing nothing but the night bugs and seeing only shadows, he kept low, and this time made it to a bush next to a large window. The one he’d seen the inside light shine through.
He started to straighten for a peek inside and felt the unmistakable coldness of a gun barrel press against his head. And heard the click of the hammer being thumbed back. There were no heroics here.
Only certain death.
CHAPTER 80
Robert was the first person out of bed. On his way to the kitchen, he noticed Jack wasn’t on the couch. He glanced at the bathroom. The door was open and the light was off.
What have you done?
He hurried to the window and checked outside for the Jeep.
Shit.
Fearing the worst, he rousted Kazuko and Deacon.
“We’ve got a problem.”
The two of them stumbled into the living room and stared at the empty sofa. Disbelief filled their expressions.
“Jack’s gone,” Robert said. “And no telling where to.”
Kazuko asked, “You checked to see if his Jeep is here?”
“Damn right. That’s the first thing I did.”
She padded into the kitchen leaving him and Deacon alone.
He ran his fingers through his hair and stared at the empty couch. He glanced around the room. This was not what he wanted to wake up to.
Dammit, Jack.
Deacon fought a yawn, and said, “Maybe he got up early and drove to the store to get breakfast . . . doughnuts, or something.”
“Not without making coffee first,” Kazuko answered as she stepped back into the living room. “The pot’s cold.”
Robert checked his watch. “We’ll give him thirty minutes to get his ass back here. If he doesn’t show by then, we’ll figure he’s done something stupid.”
Deacon looked Robert in the eye, clearly concerned. “He wouldn’t go after that big sonofabitch by himself, would he?”
That was exactly what Robert feared would happen.
He’d read the determination in Jack’s eyes.
A look he’d seen before.
Shying from the reality of his fears, he said, “I hate to think so, but I wouldn’t put it past him.”
Deacon’s mouth opened, then closed. From the deep furrow in his brow it was obvious he understood that was precisely what had happened.
“But . . .” He slowly shook his head back and forth, his gaze fixed on Robert. “Jack promised to call Agent Greene this morning and let them handle those guys.”
“Jack says a lot of things. We should have insisted he call last night.”
“Yeah, but we didn’t.”
Kazuko spoke up. “I don’t think we should wait.”
Robert gave a few seconds thought to the problem.
“Let’s get dressed,” he said. “Then I call a cab. If Jack gets here before our ride does, great. If not, we go looking for him. It should be easy enough to find out if that’s where he’s at.”
Ten minutes later, he clicked off and lowered his phone.
“A cab will be here in five.”
Deacon started toward the door. “Let’s wait out front.”
The taxi was a minivan. Robert sat in the front seat with the spare Jeep key in his pocket and told the driver where to take them. Then he leaned back, fighting dread. He had a sickening feeling he was sure he shared with Kazuko and Deacon who sat opening and closing his fists like a fighter preparing for battle.
“I swear,” Deacon said. “When I get my hands on that brother of mine, I’m going to wring his neck.”
“You aren’t the only one.” Robert looked back at Kazuko. “How are you doing?”
“I’ll be doing better when I know he’s all right.”
“Think positive. We don’t know anything has happened to him.”
“Yet.”
Robert spotted the Jeep at the same time Deacon and Kazuko did. From behind him, they both yelled, “There it is.”
Those same words screamed in his mind.
“Stop here,” he said to the driver.
The cabbie steered the minivan into the open space next to the 4X4 and stopped. Deacon and Kazuko jerked open the sliding rear
door and scrambled out while Robert paid the fare.
“It’s his Jeep all right.” Kazuko pointed. “There’s the beach towel he had wrapped around that stupid gun.”
Robert joined her and Deacon at the side window and peered inside.
“Doors locked,” Deacon said.
Robert turned and scanned the shoreline where Kimo parked his pickup the day before. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Deacon and Kazuko do the same.
Jack was inside.
CHAPTER 81
Chiharu Takahashi stood in the sun streaming through the window and scowled at the copy of the search warrant in her hand. The raid had been unsuccessful. But she should have been warned.
She sighed, her tired eyes opening to the Honolulu skyline.
“You have an explanation?” she asked with her back to the uniformed Japanese-American man on his knees behind her. Respect she demanded.
“I swear I didn’t know the FBI planned to search your condo this morning,” the officer said in perfect English. “I would have warned you if I had.”
“I pay you well for information such as this. Do I not?”
“Most handsomely.”
“Well, then?”
“Sadly, my contacts don’t inform me about everything the feds do. There is much that’s kept secret.”
“Then you need more reliable connections.”
“Of course you’re right.”
She turned from the view and glared at her informant. Even if he was Japanese, she’d always harbored a distaste for the American Navy, and that included the Coast Guard. It was their planes and their ships that brought death to so many of her people during the Second World War.
Her back grew straighter with the memories of the horror that were passed down to her by her father and her aunt, who was a child living in a village on the outskirts of Hiroshima when the first atomic bomb hit on August sixth, nineteen forty-five, at 8:15 AM.
One hundred and forty thousand of her people dead.
The town incinerated.
The commander would not meet her gaze.
Deep down she knew the man was not fully to blame.
Though she would never admit it.
Perhaps he, too, had relatives who had experienced the terror of that day. She looked to that possibility hoping to garner sympathy for his failure.
Something she regretted doing, but it was in her best interest to continue the relationship.
And he had taken a big chance meeting with her.
“Stand,” she said. “The warrant did not turn up anything. I anticipated the FBI’s return and removed everything that could possibly implicate me. Still, it was most alarming to have the agents show up here without the knowledge they were coming.”
The commander stood and smoothed his uniform. “That’s good news. Our association has proven to be profitable beyond anything I imagined.”
For both of us.
She was as tall as he was, but he was a decade and a half younger with the firm muscle of youth, dark hair without the gray she possessed, and an unlined face. And there was the spark of ambition in his eyes.
A man willing to betray his country for money.
She faced the window, no longer wishing to look at him.
Her back straight and her voice firm, she said, “Then you understand this kind of failure cannot happen again?”
“I assure you it won’t.”
Her cell phone vibrated on the desk next to her. She picked it up and looked at the number. Takeo would not call unless it was important. What unhappiness was befalling her now?
“Leave,” she said, waving the commander out. “We’re done for now.”
The commander offered a curt bow and walked out of the room. When the door closed behind him, she clicked on and said, “What is it?”
“Jack Ferrell is here,” Takeo answered. “Our contact on Maui insisted I keep him alive so you can supervise his death, personally.”
How fitting.
This was the first good news she had received since the feds first raided her place. A fortuitous opportunity to see the man who had caused her so much grief, die begging for his life.
She had dreamed of such an opportunity. And drew strength from the unexpected turn of events.
She’d not squander the pleasure.
Furthermore, she warmed to the realization Takeo was not plotting against her. That his loyalty remained.
“I’ll be there this evening.”
CHAPTER 82
Jack blinked his eyes and peered into the gloom. There was no window. Only a gap at the bottom of the door that let a slab of incandescence in. But was it from overhead lights in an adjoining room or the sun?
Was it morning? Or still night?
Or even the same day?
He tugged on the sturdy cord binding his wrists and ankles. And worked at the strips of tape covering his mouth.
The effort got him nowhere.
He sagged and closed his eyes tight to force back the pain from what felt like a laceration and bump on the back of his head and the throbbing inside his skull. A souvenir from the man who saved his life. Though he figured it was only a temporary reprieve.
Still, he was alive.
And for that, he should feel lucky.
But where am I?
He was on a wood floor, his shoulders and back against a wall. He could tell that much. Nothing more.
Not even how he got there.
The fog in his mind began to clear. Fragments of memory fell into place. Slowly at first. A piece at a time. Then the dim recesses of his mind opened up.
He remembered the cold gun barrel being pressed against the back of his head, hearing the unmistakable click of the hammer being cocked back. And a fraction of a second later, thinking he was dead.
But someone intervened, saving him from certain death.
The last of the mist clouding his recollection dissipated, and he recalled hearing a familiar voice say, “Don’t be stupid, Takeo.”
Then darkness.
But who had clubbed him unconscious?
He struggled to place the voice. No Japanese accent. A bit of the South, maybe. Someone who’d been away from that region for a while.
Who?
He was working the question over in his mind when the door opened. The sudden glare made him turn his head and squeeze his eyes shut. He opened them slowly and turned to see who had entered the room.
McMasters.
He struggled to pull free. Fighting his restraints for a try at the man’s throat.
Dig his thumbs in. Choke the life out of him.
McMasters stooped close. “Stop pulling on those ropes and listen to me. We’re on the same side.”
That voice again. A hint of the South.
Jack stilled. Unsure what to think.
He glanced into the room behind the lieutenant, looking for the slightest hint of a setup. Crewcut hovering a few feet away to finish the job. Or maybe just slap him around a little. Use him for a punching bag. Get his jollies.
McMasters raised a finger to his lips.
What in the hell . . . ?
Jack studied the lieutenant’s face. He’d gain nothing by not going along with what the man asked. Nor would he make his situation more desperate than it was.
He nodded understanding.
Something else was in play here.
He tensed, expecting to have the tape ripped away, taking half his whiskers with it. But that didn’t happen. Instead, McMasters carefully peeled the adhesive back.
“We need to make this fast,” he said. “Takeo’s paranoid and too unpredictable to chance setting him off.”
Jack ran his tongue around his dry mouth, and whispered, “What’s going on here? What do you plan to do with me?”
McMasters kept his voice low. “Like I said, we are on the same side.”
Jack felt a flicker of distrust. It was impossible not to.
“That’s no kind of answer.”
&nb
sp; “It’s all I can tell you.”
Can?
Jack didn’t press. He pinched his eyes shut, easing the throbbing, and opened them. “Are you the one who hit me over the head?”
“That was Takeo.” McMasters unscrewed the cap from a bottle of water and held it to Jack’s lips. “But I’m the one who talked him out of shooting you dead right there on the lawn.”
Jack took two hungry gulps, spilling some of the liquid down his chin before the bottle was pulled away.
He worked the moisture into his parched lips. “I’m surprised he could be dissuaded. He likes me just fractionally more than I like him.”
“He wasn’t happy, that’s for sure. And I’m not certain I could talk him out of it again. That’s why I need you to play along.”
“Does that include being trussed up like a pig at market?”
“An unfortunate but necessary precaution.”
“For how long?”
McMasters lifted the bottle, allowing another drink. “Tonight. Stick with me until then and this will be all over.”
Jack sucked down the remainder of the water and saw McMasters fumble for the tape.
“Wait,” he said. “What happens tonight?”
McMasters jerked around at the sound of footsteps.
Jack’s gaze followed.
A second later, McMasters turned back. And again he raised his finger to his lips.
Takeo.
“Just play along.” He smoothed the tape back over Jack’s mouth.
Do I have a choice?
Muffled from further conversation, he watched McMasters step from the room and close the door behind him.
Jack stared into the darkness, holding onto the shred of hope he’d been given.
Hope he still didn’t trust.
He knew how easily it could all be snatched away.
Is McMasters telling the truth?
Or is he a thief and a traitor to the uniform?
Jack slumped to the floor.
If Takeo didn’t kill him first, he’d find out in a few long hours.
CHAPTER 83
Robert shook his head at the voice on his cell phone, unable to believe what Agent Greene was telling him.
Finally, he couldn’t hold back. “What do you mean meet you back at the condo? I’m telling you there’s a serious problem. We’re standing by Jack’s Jeep right now. It’s parked down the road from the house where Chiharu Takahashi’s goons are holed up along with the Coast Guard officer you’re after.”
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