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Girl Fights Back (Go No Sen) (Emily Kane Adventures)

Page 3

by Antoine, Jacques


  There had been other scrapes, and George had saved his life a number of times. More than he cared to remember. He owed him everything. But he had also saved George, protected him, concealed him.

  Eventually, Meacham had sent Michael on a different kind of mission. There was a group of scientists in Tokyo working on a project that had become Meacham’s new preoccupation. They were researching drugs to enhance the fighting capabilities of any soldier. Years of research into the effect of psychotropic chemicals had convinced them they could enhance both the response time of the aggressor instincts, and the sensory acuity to actuate those instincts. In effect, they would turn soldiers into super sensitive, hyper-aggressive predators for brief periods. There were drawbacks, of course. The subjects became difficult to control, and initially could not follow mission commands for more than a few minutes. Soldiers like this would require constant battlefield supervision. But at their best, they were capable of great ferocity, and seemed utterly uninhibited by concerns for their own personal safety. Their preservation instincts were almost completely suppressed.

  There were also some severe side effects. Of course, most of the early subjects went insane. Several committed suicide. Other side effects mimicked those of anabolic steroids. Hair loss, megalocephaly, loss of libido, depression.

  As promising as these drugs seemed, there appeared to be no way to resolve all of these drawbacks. But a breakthrough occurred when it was noticed that the worst side effects were greatly diminished in female subjects. Also, in the case of women, the enhancement of the aggressor instincts did not come at the expense of a greatly reduced attention span. Female soldiers seemed likely to be able to carry out complex missions lasting over several hours. The Tokyo group hypothesized it might be possible to manipulate the genetic code of males to mimic the neurological profile of females. These genetically altered males would then be able to benefit from the enhancements these drugs promised, while suffering greatly reduced physical and emotional detriments. It was even thought possible to reverse the genetic alterations at a later date. At least, that was their hope.

  Meacham wanted Michael to insinuate himself into the genetics group, assess the viability of their technique, and persuade them to turn over their research to him. Michael was skeptical from the outset, but Meacham was convinced this was the future of modern warfare. He was equally convinced America’s military and economic future depended on research like this, and his own career did, too. But, whatever his reservations, Michael accepted the mission.

  George accompanied him to Tokyo. Michael hadn’t noticed when it happened, when George had become attached to his career. Was it Meacham’s idea? Or George’s? It certainly wasn’t his idea. This did not seem like a particularly dangerous mission. At most, it might entail a bit of corporate espionage. More likely, it would merely be a matter of hiring someone away from their current employer. Still, George came along.

  And when it came down to it, George turned out to be essential to the endeavor. Michael had no traction in Japan. He was just a big, lumbering American. But somehow George fit right in. The lead scientist, Dr. Kagami, was assisted in the lab by his daughter, Yukiko. She knew the inner workings of every aspect of her father’s research. She was his confidante, his partner and his colleague. Soon she was George’s confidante, too.

  Yuki had long recognized not only that her father’s central genetic hypothesis was false, but also that his project was morally wrong. But he was stubborn. She continued working on it with him, exploring every avenue of his investigation, in the hopes he would eventually see just how barren the project was and give it up. She loved him, and could not bear to see him waste his life in this way. She was also afraid if she left him, he would be preyed upon by unscrupulous elements both within Japan and from abroad.

  Something about George struck a chord with her. She didn’t know why, but she trusted this gaijin (or foreigner) with the empty eyes. He had been lured there because of her father’s work. He represented everything she feared. But she could see he also understood it was misguided, even wrong. And there was a subtle, quiet spirituality about him that reassured her. She could trust him.

  They spent almost two years working with Yuki, cajoling her, deceiving her, learning from her, understanding her, and in the end helping her. Meacham was very patient. The moment of crisis came when the lab was infiltrated by a Chinese operative. Her father was in real danger. If the Chinese made off with Dr. Kagami’s research, or worse yet, with Dr. Kagami himself, Meacham would consider it a failure, even a betrayal. It didn’t matter that the entire research project was utterly fallacious. The Chinese didn’t know that, would never believe it, and neither would Meacham.

  In the end, the Chinese did manage to steal most of the important records of Kagami’s work. But they did not manage to steal him. When the theft was uncovered, he declared that his work was a failure, there was no genetic solution to the side-effects of the so-called Predator drugs. But no one believed him. The Mori Corporation accused him of espionage and sabotage. His reputation was destroyed, and he committed suicide. But all the interested parties still believed his research was valid and all came to the same conclusion: they needed to secure his daughter to complete the project. Yuki was in great danger.

  But George and Michael acted first. They spirited her out of Tokyo, hid out in Hokkaido for a few days, and then south to Kyushu. Eventually they made their way to Okinawa, where George hid out with Yuki for several weeks. From there, through Micronesia and then Samoa, they picked their way to Hawaii. They hid there while Michael tried to patch things up with Meacham. He flew back to Manila and turned over everything he had from Kagami’s records, explained the fallacy at the heart of the entire idea, told him everything Yuki had painstakingly explained to him. He was no scientist. But neither was Meacham. Eventually, he was appeased. His foolish dream was banished, at least for now.

  When Michael returned to Hawaii a few months later he was surprised to find a small child had been added to their party. Where had she come from? Had George found her in Hawaii? She was clearly at least part Asian. She couldn’t be Yuki’s daughter. Could she? George told him she was his niece, his brother’s child. Did he even have a brother? His brother had been married to a Korean woman during the war, who later died in childbirth. His brother’s health was failing and he asked him to take care of the girl. Michael did not entirely believe this story. But he was not inclined to challenge George over it. He owed him too much not to be willing to go along with it. In fact, he owed him so much he was about to dedicate all his energies to creating a new life for all of them.

  In the ensuing years, Michael Cardano’s career flourished, without anyone quite knowing very much about him. He moved from one mid level government post to another, occasionally leaving government service for the private sector, later returning to another government post. Without making much of a splash, he amassed a considerable fortune, and a formidable network of shadowy connections. All because he knew Meacham, or someone like him, would eventually reawaken the Predator program. And when that moment came, he would have to be ready. And now that moment had arrived.

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  Chapter 4: Back in the Woods

  By the time Emily got home from school Friday afternoon she had already planned out her weekend. She collected her gear: a change of clothes, a sleeping roll, a bottle, her hunting knife and a few utensils. Also a scope she had borrowed earlier from one of the guard posts. It must have belonged to a rifle at one time. This might come in handy. The weather was getting cooler, so she put on a jacket and headed out the back to the woods. Her father would be back Saturday or Sunday, and she wanted to have plenty of time to get dug in.

  Naturally she headed straight for Promontory Rock. Well, not exactly straight. She took the most direct route she could imagine, while at the same time leaving no clues behind her, and as many false trails as she could think of. If it were possible to trace her steps from above, as a bird might see them, that i
s, if they were visible at all, they might seem to sketch out some sort of rune, or an arabesque. Was the pattern merely ornamental, or did it have some deep meaning? Or was it like a mehndi, festive with some sort of ritual meaning. She reveled in the path she was creating and concealing at the same time, using it to misdirect the gaze of her pursuer even as she set her heart on the promontory. Her father would not expect her to go there now that she knew he knew.

  The rock projected from a cliff at least two hundred feet above the ravine below. A stream meandered among the maples and elms at the bottom. The trees gave way to smaller oaks and mountain mahogany further up until it finally thinned out to grass and a few shrubs around the rock itself. One large clump of shrubs several yards away from the precipice was dense enough to hide a small hollow within. It still held just enough foliage to conceal her without the need for a lean-to or any other sort of covering. She could see out in three directions without much difficulty. The fourth direction was covered by a large rock and some thick brambles. No silent approach from there.

  Of course, she couldn’t build a fire in there, but she had no intention of doing any such thing. She was prepared to shiver at night if she had to. A fire would give everything away. Fortunately, it proved to be a warm night.

  She spent most of Friday just enjoying the view from the precipice. She could see most of the estate from there. The front gate with its guard shack, the main building, the south side of the garage. Rolling hills to the east, some small farm parcels just on the other side. The glow of a small town at the beginning of the evening. By midnight even that had gone dark. The town wasn’t big enough to have street lights. Or a shopping mall. To the east the Shenandoahs. Miles of wilderness, much wilder than the estate, much more beautiful

  Cars and large SUV’s came and went much of the evening. There seemed to be something important happening at the main building. Perhaps it was another of Mr. Cardano’s parties. If that’s what it was, it must be a big one judging from the traffic. Yuki hadn’t said anything about it that afternoon, and the kitchen didn’t seem particularly busy. Maybe it was something less sociable. Emily was not curious. She was intent on spotting the moment her father pulled the family car up to the garage. She was determined not to let him take her by surprise.

  The problem with Promontory Rock is it’s a trap for its occupant. There’s only one safe path up to it. Anything else would require some serious free hand rock climbing. It took at least ten minutes to get down the path to the river bed. From there one could go in any number of directions. The advantage of the rock is you can see for miles. It would be extremely difficult to approach it unnoticed. But that assumes whoever is up there is watching carefully.

  Emily kept her eyes moving—front gate, main building (bustling with activity), garage, and back again. She also watched the paths she had left. If someone was following her tracks she would be able to see them from up there.

  The rifle scope had 12x magnification. That was enough to give pretty good detail over most of the estate. She couldn’t make out much about the people bustling about the main building, but she had a pretty good idea there were a lot of them, and they were moving quickly. It was too far away for her to hear anything from there. Around three in the morning things seemed to die down. Just then she saw what looked like the family car pull around to the back of the garage. That had to be her father, home a little earlier than he said. That was just like him, trying to steal an advantage from her with a little disinformation. She watched closely for any sign of him. She would be able to see him heading across the lawn from the garage towards the woods. But there was nothing.

  The moon was bright that night, and the estate buildings were easy to see. Sure, a stealthy figure could probably dart into the woods without her being able to see. But that wasn’t her father’s way. He wasn’t sneaky. He preferred to be direct. He would walk directly to wherever he thought she was. Flush her out, force her to break cover and run. Then she would have to trade a well-meditated hiding place for one chosen in the moment. He would let her see he was coming, at least initially. Later, once he was in the woods, he might choose a path at least as ornamental as hers had been. A direct path would make no sense in there. Then he might pop up unexpectedly, just when you thought he had to be someplace else. So she kept her eyes moving.

  As she watched the estate from on high, she felt very much like a silent sentinel. She could see it all, though she could only hear what was right around her. Everything else was cloaked in silence. It gave her a feeling of calm confidence. Her gaze was powerful. She could see whatever would come, as long as she had the will to look. If she could see it, she could face it, whatever it was. And so she continued looking with all the intensity she could muster.

  She was reminded of the boy. She didn’t particularly want to think about him just now. He didn’t matter. But somehow, his face came to the surface of her consciousness. He knew her from the dojo. He had seen her around school, thought she was cool. At least she seemed cooler than the other girls. He had approached her a few times, making idle, empty conversation. He was on the varsity football team, the starting tailback. He was fast and strong, though not as large as the biggest guys on the team. He was popular, not bad looking. There were lots of girls who would like him, who wanted him. When they saw his interest in her they were angry. Who was she, after all? She was nobody. Just some weird girl with no friends.

  A few of them approached her, tried to intimidate her. They made fun of her clothes, made rude insinuating remarks. One of them put a hand on her shoulder, meant to push her, maybe pull her hair. When she caught a glimpse into Emily’s eyes, she shrank back. They all saw it was no use. They left her alone after that. He joined the dojo the next day.

  He was stronger than most of the boys there, and fast. He could hit hard and his balance was good. It was very difficult to get him down. He picked up shotokan quickly. It appealed to his aggressive instincts. He was pretty good in sparring. He usually beat the other boys. Sensei seemed to think he had potential. His name was Danny Rincon.

  He asked her if she wanted to go to a concert at the local armory on the weekend. She had just finished him off in the ring. What an odd response to defeat. He was lying flat on his back on the mat. Just as she had expected to see that look of perplexity and embarrassment, he asked her out. This one’s at least a little bit different from the others, she thought. But not that different. Sensei snorted. She said “okay” at least partly for the pleasure of surprising Sensei.

  He picked her up that evening in an old pickup truck. The ride over was disconcerting. Neither of them knew what to say. A lot of irrelevant, semi-personal information came out of his mouth in nervous spasms. She was a lot harder to talk to than the other girls. Nothing seemed to impress her. He was afraid of the silence, didn’t want her to discover she didn’t like him. So he filled up the space with conversation. He told her how he loved football (she seemed unimpressed), admired his coach (who?), wanted to go to college on a scholarship, but did not really want to study anything in particular. His parents were separated. He lived with his mom. She was an ER nurse at the local hospital. His dad came to all the games and yelled from the stands. He was afraid to talk about the dojo with her.

  The music was loud and irritating. She liked to be able to listen to herself, and that was impossible here. But everyone was swaying together, moving with the beat. That was interesting. It felt almost as if she was connected to all these people, an experience of a primal synergy. They were all open to the same suggestion. It was almost communal. But, of course, they were all really alone. The music had brought them all together, but in the end it kept them all isolated.

  They danced. It was almost possible to see something different in him; if only it weren’t so loud. In between songs they were jostled by some other kids. They tried to move to the side, to make way, but the crush was persistent. It was getting oppressively hot on the floor. Danny suggested they step outside to cool off. He got a coupl
e of ices from a vendor by the door and they headed out to the patio.

  It was crowded out there, too. They made their way to a bench on the far side where they could be alone. A large guy with a short stubble on his face and a leather jacket asked her if she had any matches. “No,” she said, sizing him up. He seemed too old for this music, but not exactly an adult, at least not her father’s age. He didn’t quite fit in. Maybe he worked at the armory. His hands looked strong. His eyes were bright, but unsympathetic, as if he meant to be intrusive. As they sat down, the same guy called out to Danny to watch himself. Just then, three men jumped him from out of the shadows and began to work him over. As she turned to look, the guy in the jacket grabbed Emily from behind and tried to pull her around the corner to the loading dock. She saw Danny punch one of the men in the cheek and shove another back into the wall. But they were too big for him, and they seemed to know how to handle themselves in a scrap. They had been hit before. Danny was in over his head.

  Emily’s assailant was much larger than her, by at least six inches and seventy pounds. He held her in a bear hug from behind and tried to keep her feet off the ground as he carried her away. She wondered what he had prepared for her around the corner. His hands and arms were strong, much stronger than hers. She was oddly calm. As he took an uncertain step backwards she shifted her shoulders ever so slightly. He tried to adjust his balance, but in the process he let her touch the pavement. Just then, she pushed off the ground hard, and he reacted instinctively to oppose her effort, to keep her down. He shifted his balance and leaned over her. She slid her fingers inside his right hand, grabbed across his palm and thumb, and twisted all the joints of his right arm out and away from his body. He found himself running as fast as he could face first into the side of the building. The pain in his arm was excruciating. Hitting the wall was almost preferable to trying to resist her.

 

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