Devlin

by C J Matthew

  That’s when the devil made her do it. Acting on a spur of the moment impulse, she’d plastered herself against Mr. Rudraige and kissed him.

  Without considering the possibility her actions could be viewed that way, she’d out-brazened the tennis player. For the first ten seconds anyway. Until her target for the evening, her paid assignment, had reacted. When Rudraige had taken over the embrace and kissed her, the man had short-circuited her brain. Damn it, she’d almost imploded.

  And no wonder. Up close and personal, Devlin Rudraige was certifiably gorgeous. His mask couldn’t hide the chiseled face, dark eyes and full lips. His hair was slightly longer than in the most recent phots she’d been shown. Also, his alluring, precisely trimmed scruff had grown to a new length. And the hair was soft. She’d read he was into fitness, and now she could confirm he was strong, surprisingly strong.

  Was this the sort of intel Obasan was seeking? Portia released a deep sigh. Yeah, right. More like her trying to justify totally unprofessional and extremely reckless behavior as reconnaissance. No one in their right mind would buy that. Better keep praying no one had recognized her.

  Portia glanced at the time on her phone. With a shiver of guilt, she pressed the contact number for Obasan. The woman signing the paycheck for tonight was in her nineties and wouldn’t appreciate—

  “Hello?” the soft voice answered.

  “It’s Portia. I apologize my call is so late, I—”

  “Nonsense. I’m surprised you are reporting in so early on Oshogatsu. Did everything go well?”

  “Yes. I’ve noted several updated details concerning Mr. Rudraige’s physical appearance. Tonight, he was a guest at Skytree tower and seemed friendly with everyone you asked me to watch for. He attended the function alone, not counting his bodyguard, and—”

  “Did the guard stay with him?”

  “No. As you predicted, the security man waited elsewhere, out of sight, during the party.”

  “Yes. A definite chink in Devlin’s armor. You might even call it a weakness.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “It’s a sure sign of arrogance. In certain circumstances, he refuses or dismisses his protection. Either a man needs a bodyguard, or he doesn’t.”

  “Ah, I see.” She didn’t see, nor did she totally agree. However, she wasn’t about to argue with the old lady. “Would you like my detailed verbal report now or shall I send the written one in the morning?”

  “Tomorrow is soon enough. Unless you have anything of an urgent nature to tell me?”

  “No Obasan.” Portia felt the heat of a fierce blush move up her neck and onto her face. “Can you give me any hints on a possible follow up assignment? Or when you’ll be ready to discusses the next project?”

  “Not yet, Portia. As I told you yesterday, the main goal tonight was for you to see Devlin in person, note the business associates he socializes with, and remember him...”

  Which still didn’t explain how Devlin might be involved in part two. Assuming there would be a part two.

  “So,” Obasan resumed her train of thought, “Can you pick him out in a crowd?”

  “Yes.” Absolutely.

  “At this point, could you calculate two times and locations when Devlin might refuse his bodyguard?”

  What? Like identify the most opportune time and location to kidnap him? Or assassinate him? “Not with any degree of accuracy. I simply have too little data to go on.” Her heart raced, and she had trouble suppressing the nervous tension in her voice.

  Obasan chuckled faintly. “Then we’ll simply have to get busy collecting more data. You are free to do as you wish today, New Years. Then tomorrow, the second, meet me at four p.m. in the usual place.” The old woman disconnected before she could answer.

  “For Pete’s sake,” Portia muttered, consciously discarding several colorful and more powerful exclamations. She shut down the dedicated phone and checked messages on her personal iPhone. Nothing there that pertained to this case and nothing that couldn’t wait.

  Setting aside the empty coffee cup, she poured herself a shot of Tequila. Sipping, she mentally replayed all her business conversations with Obasan. Where the hell was all this headed?

  She’d known going in that the old woman loved to sound mysterious. And to hold back details. Not a problem, up to a point. Portia finished the drink. The Tequila made her lips tingle and reminded her of Devlin’s mouth crushed to hers.

  Dropping the shot glass into the container with the coffee cup, Obasan’s voice echoed in her head. “When will Devlin be without his bodyguard?” Maybe she should devote an hour or two of her New Year’s day seeing for herself where he lived. And if he took a bodyguard with him on a holiday.

  Portia’s stomach grumbled.

  She pressed the intercom.

  “Yes, miss?” the driver answered, At the same time the divider lowered until it disappeared.

  “Hey guys,” she said, her voice full of forced cheerfulness. “Good news: in honor of the new year the three of us are going out to dinner and I’m buying. Do either of you know of a cozy place down by the docks? Maybe somewhere near Muirdris offices? Drinks are on me, too.”

  She thought of her bank balance and cringed. Obviously, she needed to hit up Obasan for an expense account.

  “Thank you, miss,” the driver said.

  “Very generous, ma’am,” the security man said. “I know the bartender at a grill across from the Muirdris employee parking lot. Allow me to call my friend so he can save us a table.”

  “Great idea,” she said. “Now gentlemen, for the bad news. The next one who calls me Miss or Ma’am springs for a big bottle of champagne, my choice of vintage.”

  After a moment of silence in the front, both men seemed to think they could handle it. “Agreed, Portia.” the driver said.

  “Yes, it’ll be Portia from now on,” the guard added.

  “Then Happy New Year, good luck, and long life to us all,” she said.

  Especially to someone who might unknowingly already be in the crosshairs. Possibly Devlin?

  Chapter 3

  Devlin

  A few hours before dawn on New Year’s Day, Devlin lay sprawled on his back, staring at his bedroom ceiling. He’d finally gotten his annoyingly single-minded dragon to shut up. The idiot beast kept insisting they needed to set out at first light. To scour all of Tokyo, searching for their mate.

  We don’t know what she looks like. Actually, he admitted to himself, that was a lie. And trying to deceive his dragon was too much like lying to himself.

  We’d recognize her anywhere, the sea dragon insisted.

  I don’t think so.

  He distinctly recalled her height and weight, the feel of every curve of her luscious body pressed to his. Her long, silky hair had been pulled back into a thick ponytail at the nape of her neck and cascaded down her back to her waist. Most of all I remembered her mouth and the taste of her kiss.

  None of what I remember will help us figure out what her name is, where she works or lives. It’s a big city, pal. Impossible.

  A list of names.

  What? Oh, like an invitation list from the party?

  Yes.

  And how exactly, do I ask my hosts for that?

  The dragon continued to argue for almost half an hour. Exasperated and sleepy, Devlin finally resorted to bribery.

  “Look, I swear, first thing tomorrow we’ll get started trying to find her. Remember, we’ve got extra time since we aren’t taking my assistant Noriko out this year. I’ll ask about a list and then after I set up the Ichiban data on the computer, we’ll take a drive. Check out as many places as we can. Meanwhile, you gotta let me get some sleep.”

  Amid grumbling and dire predictions, they’d lose their mate for all eternity, the dragon finally settled down. And left Devlin with his own brain churning.

  The alarm went off at ten and Devlin padded across the living room’s tatami floor to the kitchen for a strong mug of coffee. Sensing the drago
n would start in again soon if he didn’t make some effort to locate the mystery woman, he leaned against the stone countertop and phoned the bodyguard assigned to him for today.

  “Morning Yori, we’re going out in an hour. Until we leave, I have one tedious favor to ask.”

  “Yes, sir.” The young bodyguard sounded chipper and ready for the day. Devlin curved his mouth into a begrudging smile. Youthful humans. Still, his employee’s energy was contagious.

  “I attended the Oshogatsu party at Skytree last night and was introduced to way too many people. I can’t begin to remember all the names. Would you check out this morning’s gossip stories, both on the internet and in the morning papers? Make me a list of attendees along with whatever social and work connections are mentioned?”

  “Certainly, sir. Will you want the limo in an hour?”

  “Let’s drive the Tank.”

  “Yes, sir.” Yori’s new level of excitement was evident in the young man’s voice. Wait for it…

  Keeping his tone casual, Devlin said, “I’m thinking perhaps we could manage without a company driver. Especially if you can handle the tank and protect me at the same time?”

  Devlin heard the bodyguard’s sharp intake of breath through the line. Followed by, “Yes, sir. I absolutely can, sir.”

  “Great. Make the arrangements. Oh, and right before we go, email me as much of the party roster as you’ve gotten done.”

  “Sir, I’ll remain here in the condo security office to do the research.”

  Devlin bit his lip to keep from chuckling. Yori wasn’t taking any chances. He’d stay close, position himself between the Tank in the parking garage and Devlin in the penthouse.

  “Your choice.” Devlin hung up and tugged open the refrigerator door in search of an easy meal of reheated leftovers. The cold shelves were empty and spotless. Oh yeah, New Year’s, the day we all start fresh. He did find eggs and omelet fixings as well as bacon. He wolfed down his breakfast standing at the kitchen window overlooking the port.

  After a shower, he dressed in jeans and a warm sweater. Retrieving Shinsuke’s USB stick from his bedroom floor safe, he checked for malware and then opened it on his home office computer.

  There were four lists of crew members, one for each ship in the days before and after each of the explosions. All the names had been crossed referenced several times, resulting in multiple vague connections.

  Devlin recalled Ji’s security training class from last year and pulled up a program he’d created to compare not just work dates, locations, and ship assignments but crew members with overlapping shore leave, matching home and mailing addresses, shared cars, and more. Inputting all four lists, he started the first searches.

  And moved on to the folders, one for each ship. Starting with the oldest explosion, he skimmed through the reports and interviews, studied the photos of the damage and drawings of the deck plans.

  His search program chimed with results. Not surprisingly, the first connections to show up were joint vehicles. However, most were short-term car rentals where crew members had pooled their money to secure transportation during shore leave in foreign ports.

  He saved the data and returned to the file of the explosion on the third Ichiban ship. Their container vessel was almost identical to Muirdris’s newest megaship. He studied the safety measures for securing the containers and then looked through the specs for the engine room, the crew quarters and amenities.

  The search program chimed.

  This time he hit the pay dirt. His check of crew cross-contacts pointed to two possible saboteurs: F.D. Hoffman and Frederick Haufmann. And confirmed one or other of the two men had been working on the targeted ship at the time of each explosion.

  Besides the similarity of their names, the two men co-leased a tiny studio apartment not far from this condo building. Devlin shook his head, correcting himself. Not far as the crow flies. The popular complex was on the opposite side of the port. The drive would take he and Yori most of the way around the perimeter of the huge bay.

  Where were the two men now? Devlin held his breath as he checked Shinsuke’s crew schedules for January. Frederick Haufmann appeared to be between assignments. F.D. Hoffman was currently in-bound on an Ichiban container vessel, due in port, the Port of Kaohsiung, Taiwan, in approximately four days. Plenty of time for him to set off another explosion. Or plant a bomb for the last leg of the trip to Yokohama.

  Devlin saved all the new data on Shinsuke’s memory drive and duplicated everything onto a memory stick of his own. He’d better arrange a meeting with Shinsuke for today. Locking his USB drive in the floor safe, Devlin pocketed the original, and called Shinsuke’s private number.

  No answer. Devlin left an urgent message.

  “Shinsuke, I’ve uncovered new data I want to put into your hands today. We only need a brief meeting. Call me with a time and place so I can pass along everything to you and answer any of your questions. You’re looking at a time-limit but I know your people will want to double check my conclusions before you decided how to react.”

  While waiting to hear from Shinsuke, he could check out the complex where the Hoffman/Haufmann’s apartment was located. He grabbed his jacket and took the elevator to the parking garage. Yori had positioned the Tank by the elevator doors and stood at the passenger side.

  “Good morning.” Devlin smiled. “If I sit in the front passenger seat, will the bad guys think I’m you? The bodyguard?”

  “No doubt.” Yori opened the door, and as Devlin slid in, the bodyguard handed over his assignment, a neatly printed list of party-goer names. “I also emailed you a copy.”

  As soon as Yori got behind the wheel, Devlin supplied Hoffman’s apartment address and filled in barebones details: “We’re interested in checking out where two men live, based on their suspicious behavior.”

  The youthful bodyguard all but vibrated with excitement.

  The dragon, only interested in finding his mate, paced and flicked his barbed tail. Check the list.

  Devlin wrinkled his brow. What good will that—

  The dragon roared, raking Devlin with huge claws.

  All right, okay, he silently groaned, and opened Yori’s paper on his thigh.

  A glance at the printed names confirmed what Devlin had feared. The woman’s name, the answer to his alleged mate’s identity, wasn’t going to jump off the page in flashing neon. Before the dragon lost his temper again, he said, “Yori, thanks for this. While you drive, let me comb through these names, process of elimination, see who I remember.”

  At last. The dragon huffed.

  You’re welcome.

  “You’re welcome, sir,” Yori said at the same time.

  Devlin rubbed his forehead. Cross conversations gave him a headache.

  By the time Yori announced, “We’re here,” Devlin had crossed off all married women on the list and more than half the single female names. Progress.

  Yori pointed to the sign at the entrance to the apartment complex. “We could park at an adjacent building and observe for a few minutes.”

  “Surveillance 101?” Devlin teased.

  “Exactly, sir.”

  He darted a look at the clock in the dash. “No time.” Shinsuke could call back at any moment. He put his phone on vibrate and pocketed it. “We’d better move right on to trespass.”

  “Sir?”

  “Park the Tank in front of the main entrance. Keep the engine running. I’m going to walk the hall, locate apartment 3 C, and try to eavesdrop through the door. If anyone challenges me, I’ll scream bloody murder, and you come to the rescue. Okay?”

  “Yes, sir.” Yori appeared half amused, half puzzled.

  “Truth is, I’m more likely to be run-off. In which case, I’ll hot-foot it down here, and take refuge in the Tank. You be ready to drive away, fast.”

  “I will.”

  3 C was on the third floor. For fun, Devlin quietly snuck up the stairs. The hall appeared deserted, so, pressing his back to the wall, he
crab-walked toward the door.

  Before he got there, the door to 3 C creaked and swung partway open. Devlin plastered himself against the doorway marked 3 B. A shapely woman dressed in a dark hoodie stuck her covered head out of the open door and peered up and down the hall. Devlin’s heart stopped. Was it her?

  No. The dragon gave a derisive snort.

  Hey, that hoodie completely covers her hair and most of her face. The curves are—

  She is nothing like our mate.

  That’ll hold up in a court of law.

  It was a miracle the woman didn’t see him. A moment later, she darted out of the apartment and ran down the hall in the opposite direction. After she turned the corner, Devlin started to breathe again. And remembered a question he had for the sea dragon.

  About this mate thing, I’ve met and slept with some truly great women with no comment from you. What was so special about the woman in the mask? What makes you think she's the one?

  She is ours.

  Thanks. That explains everything.

  Listening carefully for any sounds coming from inside the apartment, Devlin crept closer to the door. Seemed all clear.

  “And lucky me,” he observed in a whisper to no one, “She left the door open.”

  He softly tapped the door with his knee. It opened a few more inches. He cautiously peeked around the edge.

  The room was completely trashed. Furniture broken, cushions slashed. Tables and lamps overturned and smashed. Books, papers, and mementos littered the floor.

  Devlin froze on the threshold. In or out? Before he could decide, the iPhone in his pocket vibrated.

  Chapter 4

  Portia

  Portia tugged on the brim of her hat as she eyed the fidgeting driver/bodyguard in the parked sedan. She’d followed Rudraige’s vehicle, once she spotted him in it, from his condo all the way around the port to this complex. Then, in the few moments it’d taken for her to pull into a space with an unobstructed view of the sedan and dig out her camera, Rudraige had disappeared.

  She squinted through the camera lens. With the help of the large telephoto, she could see details in the apartment windows on each floor. No sign of Devlin. Why was he here? And what was she missing by sitting on her ass outside? It didn’t really matter. She couldn’t get inside now, not with his bodyguard planted at the front entrance.