He arched an eyebrow. "Was there a corpse left behind from whoever undid the muzzle?"
"They are still removing and identifying bodies. It will probably be a week or two before we find out who it was, if we do at all."
He grimaced. "Time we don't have. Very well. I'll leave it to you for now to keep me abreast of the investigation. I'd say we need to identify the traitor, but we're pretty much surrounded by them on all sides. How is the next batch of serum progressing?"
Minako checked her watch. "Another three hours and it should be ready."
"Good. I've made adjustments for the next strain I want to try. Hopefully, it shouldn't produce the side effects observed in the first iteration of the dragon."
"We need to do better than 'hopefully,'" Minako said softly. "Twenty-two people died."
Yagami narrowed his eyes at her. "As the result of someone's betrayal. If the dragon had stayed contained as planned, she wouldn't have had the chance to kill those twenty-two people."
Minako met his eyes. "Respectfully, Yagami-san, I disagree."
He lowered the papers. "Well, spit it out. We've been working together for long enough that I know when you're holding your tongue."
"You rushed the serum's first trial. We should have had more testing before moving to implementing it on Baba Yaga. She is not only unstable--she can't compensate for having the body of a ten-year old reptile and the brain of an infant. It's the equivalent of putting a newborn baby's brain inside the body of a killer whale. You are under the impression that you have complete control because it is an animal and you are an intellectual, but you are just as vulnerable to your own ego and shortcomings as the animal is to misbehaving because it doesn't know better."
"So this is my fault, then?" Yagami spat.
"It is not about fault. You need to understand that we cannot afford another miscalculation of this magnitude. I am here to preserve these animals. I am not here to watch them be exploited, as my family did in the generations before us."
"This is science, Minako-san. It's not neat and clean. Shit happens."
"Yes, it does," she said, her voice gaining an edge. "But I take issue when it is preventable. From here on out, we do not skip straight to implementation. We will test thoroughly. We will make sure that the serum will not harm the animal. I am done cutting corners. You may be able to sleep at night with the weight of twenty-two souls on your shoulders, but I am not that fortunate."
"You are here only at my sister's urging. You don't give me orders."
"Shall I leave then?"
He sneered at her. "Are you trying to imply that I need you?"
She crossed her arms. "Who was it that procured the Baba Yaga sample for you, again?"
Yagami gritted his teeth, but didn't reply. "Very well. Now that we understand each other, we can move forward. Are the cells healthy?"
"Yes. Maturation should finish by the end of the week. What about our other endeavor?”
“It is trickier than we predicted to find a way to create a suit that can withstand those extreme temperatures without being a literal suit of armor, which would prevent accelerated movement. We’ve been looking into nanotechnology.”
Yagami nodded. “Not a bad avenue to pursue. Easier to start from a smaller scale than to try and adapt a substance.”
“Yes. It’s being modeled after Baba Yaga’s own skin, as it absorbs and reflects heat and energy. We should have a schematic for your approval within 48 hours.” Minako glanced at the door and then back at Yagami. “Keiko-san asked you about Okegawa-san, didn’t she?”
Yagami frowned. “Drop it.”
She pressed her lips together in a thin line. “She is not a stupid woman, Yagami-san. Sooner or later, she’ll find out what you’re really up to—”
“And she’ll do nothing about it. It’s of no concern to her whatsoever. She doesn’t even consider him to be her ex-boyfriend.”
“It will be her concern if you outfit a notorious yakuza lieutenant with equipment that will enhance his abilities to a significant extent. I don’t understand, Yagami-san. You told me you wanted nothing to do with him after he murdered Watsuki-san. Why are you trying to help him?”
Yagami scribbled something on his clipboard, appearing to ignore her at first. Then, quietly, he spoke. “Kazu has no family. There is no one to decide if they should pull the plug if he doesn’t show improvement. Either he should be revived or pass on to the next world. He shouldn’t be trapped in that bed for the rest of his days. Not when I can do something about it.”
“You may come to regret that decision.”
“Then that is my fate. Now then, shall we get on with our work?"
"Yes," Minako said, snapping on a pair of gloves. "Where did you leave off in the autopsy?"
Yagami set the paperwork aside. "Chest cavity's clear. I was working on the lower body and took a reprieve to log the organs and finish writing the data to be transcribed."
"Let's continue, then." Yagami nodded and flicked on the built-in camera of his laptop. "Autopsy of the species mons lacerti resuming."
Minako pulled her surgical mask back up over her face and stepped towards the coroner's table. The corpse of the ten-foot Chinese dragon lay on the shiny metal surface, its chest cavity indeed empty with the rest of its innards still tightly packed in the lower abdomen. The dragon had died within its third week of incubation, meaning it had reached over half its adult size. In death, its deep red scales had turned dark brown, as did its yellow whiskers that were so often celebrated during the Chinese New Year festivals. Its likeness had been heavily prominent in Chinese culture, as it was one of the most sought-after dragons during the hunting renaissance. The largest ever recorded had been fifteen feet long and nearly seven feet tall, and it had only been a young adult.
The dragon's organs had been separated, logged, and then placed in jars of formaldehyde in a locked freezer inside the coroner's lab. Once emptied, the dragon's body would be preserved with the eventual goal of being sold to the highest bidder in the museum community. For that reason, Yagami had taken great pains to find a lab that none of the yakuza could track. If they caught wind of it, he knew they'd resume the dirty business of selling off the dragon's body parts to the black market, making millions off of collectors to hoard in their lavish dens. He honestly despised nearly every aspect of the dragon-hunting culture for that reason. Dragons had been a rarity of nature, and yet the people most concerned with them only wanted them as trophies.
"Small intestine," Minako said, reaching into the dragon's midsection and slowly bringing the thick, slippery ropes out onto the metal table. "There doesn't appear to be much damage based on coloration and content."
She took a Q-tip and swabbed the inside of the mucus layer inside the small intestine and set it onto a slide that Yagami set aside for examination. The dragon had been fed an all liquid diet while inside the incubator, which consisted of nutrients as well as a continuous dose of the serum that accounted for the dragon's accelerated growth. The cause of death had been heart failure. Yagami had done a thorough examination of its heart, lungs, and brain before determining that the serum had put too much stress on the animal's heart and it had gone into cardiac arrest before flat-lining. While in the liquid-based incubator, they couldn't resuscitate without risking electrocution and had lost it in the end.
Minako took a flexible tape measure and unfurled the small intestine as much as the exam table would allow. "Sixty-four feet in length and an inch in diameter throughout."
She reached the end of the small intestine where it connected to the large intestine and carefully sliced through it with a scalpel, handing it over to Yagami. He sealed it inside a massive glass bucket and set about filling it with formaldehyde as she moved on from there.
"Any waste produced?" Yagami asked, sealing the jar and lugging it over to the walk-in freezer.
"Some," she said, carefully slicing along the grain in the upper part of the large intestine. "We also found some in the embryo
nic sac as well."
Yagami recoiled as the stench hit him. "Lovely."
Minako almost smiled beneath her mask. "The beauty of nature, Dr. Sugimoto."
He snorted and punched in the code to unlock the freezer, prying the door open with his foot once the steel locks clicked. He shut it and returned to her side, accepting another sample that she placed on a slide for the microscope. "Fifteen feet in length, four inches in diameter. Like the other organs, it grew healthy and proportional."
Yagami coughed. "Good for him. Not so much for my sense of smell."
"Would you hand me another jar?"
He fetched one. She couldn't see his face, but she swore he looked a bit green around the edges as she emptied the contents of the dragon's large intestines into the jar. She'd been around dead animals enough not to be bothered by the stench, but he obviously hadn't gotten used to autopsies of large species just yet.
She sewed up the edge of the large intestine where it met the creature's anus and then offered it to him for storage next, working on the bladder and reproductive organs next until the creature had been completely hollowed out. They had already taken extensive X-rays of its skeletal structure, and had taken scale, tissue, and muscle samples. It just needed to be moved and stored for preservation.
"I'll get one of the lab rats to help us move him," Yagami said. "He's got to weigh a good two-hundred pounds even without all his guts."
"What do you think he would have been like?" Minako asked softly.
Yagami blinked at her. "Excuse me?"
Minako rested a hand on the dragon's snout. "His temperament. Do you think he would have been as volatile as Baba Yaga?"
"Chinese dragons weren't known for it," Yagami said. "They were rather mild-mannered."
He paused, thinking it over. "I remember hearing legends that they used to sing to the mountains. The climbers would hear this eerie song over the wind that lured them to their deaths."
Minako smiled a bit. "Or perhaps the dragons were just lonely."
Yagami regarded her and then nodded. "Perhaps."
He stepped out into the hallway to call for assistance. Minako waited patiently, humming softly under her breath.
10
OUT OF THE FRYING PAN
“Idiot.”
Smack, smack, smack!
“Complete friggin’ idiot.”
Smack, smack, smack!
“How many positive, stable relationships do you have in your life, Faye? Two? And what did you do? Kiss your best friend’s boyfriend and screw it all up!”
Smack! Faye’s right cross sent the reflex punching bag reeling back on its metal pole farther than the last one and she nearly had to dodge it when it swung towards her head. She lowered her arms, sweat glistening on her skin and making tendrils of her blonde hair stick to her forehead. Her breathing wasn’t ragged, but it was elevated as she started hitting the bag harder and harder as her frustration grew.
Most of the time, Faye liked going to the gym. She enjoyed being around other people, using the equipment she’d never be able to fit in their apartment, and it often had the added benefit of being the best place to pick up guys. She’d gotten the reflex bag for those times when she couldn’t leave the apartment due to her workload, so she could stay fit without having to waste time with a commute to and from the gym.
Right now, the commute wasn’t the problem. She was. She didn’t want to look another human being in the eye for the time being.
Faye peeled off one glove and tossed it on her bed, grabbing her water bottle and taking a swig. She replaced the cap and eyed the wobbling leather bag, then checked her watch. She’d been at it for half an hour. She probably needed a break. She winced at the very thought. The bag had been a welcome distraction at first, but the longer she hit it, the more she realized she was just trying to vent. Often, the gym or one of her sex friends were how she tended to work out stress, but the lingering guilt made the latter unappealing. For now, anyway.
Faye sighed and stripped off the other glove. She trudged into the bathroom, took a quick, hot shower, and then fixed up three lemonades in the kitchen. She put two into thermoses and walked out of the apartment. She followed the sidewalk to her right and went up the slight incline until she reached the unmarked car parked at the corner, out of the way of daily commuters. It was not long after ten o'clock in the evening, so the neighborhood was mostly empty anyway.
As she approached, the window rolled down. “Ms. Worthington.”
“Gentlemen,” Faye said. “Figured you’d be getting thirsty by now.”
The detective on the driver’s side smiled and accepted the thermoses. It was a good smile. He was black and in his early forties, and probably the most polite law enforcement officer she’d ever met. “You didn’t have to do that.”
She shrugged. “Eh. I was making some for myself anyway.”
“Any chance there’s Vodka in it?” his partner, a thirty-something blond asked from the passenger’s side, his mouth half-full of sandwich.
Faye beamed at him. “No, but I can slip some in there if you give me a minute.”
The black cop rolled his eyes and handed his partner the lemonade. “In your dreams, Carmichael. Save it for tomorrow when you’re off stake-out duty.”
Carmichael sighed and sipped the lemonade, nodding to Faye in thanks. “Killjoy.”
Faye leaned an arm against the driver’s side window. “All quiet out here?”
“Yeah,” the older cop agreed. “Nothing but coeds.”
She exhaled, feeling a slight tightness in her shoulders relax. “Good.”
Faye sent him an oblique look. “Don’t suppose you’re allowed to give me an update on the search for the shooter?”
The cop’s brown eyes twinkled. “Are you attempting to bribe an officer of the law with freshly-squeezed lemonade?”
She touched a hand to her chest. “Why, Monsieur Houston, I am deeply offended by that implication.”
He chuckled. “Sure, you are.”
Detective Houston sipped the lemonade. He dropped his voice a bit. “They found the SUV. Someone dumped it in the Charles River. The driver was still in it with a hole in the back of his head. CSU’s combing the vehicle and trying to match the slug they found in the guy’s skull to a murder weapon. No ID on the body yet, but my gut says they probably won’t get one. From the description you and Dr. Jackson provided, I’d say they were out-of-town shooters. But since the brass upstairs is on the case, they might pick up a trail for someone with this kind of M.O.”
Faye nodded. “So does your gut think the shooter considers me a threat?”
Houston glanced at Carmichael. Faye scowled. “Don’t sugarcoat it, fellas. I’m a big girl.”
Detective Carmichael sighed. “Yeah, but it’s not good to have this sort of stuff hovering in the back of your mind, Ms. Worthington. It makes you paranoid. And it’s easy to get yourself hurt when you’re paranoid.”
“A little late for that,” she said dryly. “Spit it out.”
“There’s no real way of knowing,” Houston said finally. “Dr. Jackson and Dr. Anjali are already heading overseas trying to find the dragon, so technically, his attempt was a failure. Odds are if he’s just a gun-for-hire he’d have just accepted the loss and skipped town. If he’s actually involved with this whole messy operation, then…”
He let the sentence trail off so her mind could fill in the blank. Faye suppressed a shiver. “Thanks. I’m a ‘what if’ kind of person. It’s better to know than not.”
“I dunno,” Carmichael said. “You ask me, ignorance is bliss.”
Faye shrugged. “It’s all a matter of perspective.”
She rapped her knuckles on the top of the car. “Thanks, gentlemen.”
“Thanks for the lemonade.”
She smiled. “I’ll be back later with some Jack and Coke.”
Carmichael’s grin sharpened. “Marry me?”
Faye laughed and headed back inside. She checked her phone re
flexively. She had a text message from someone marked Unknown.
Frowning, Faye opened it to find two images.
The bottom of her stomach dropped out as the images loaded.
One was of her, leaning in to chat with Houston and Carmichael, time-stamped with only a couple minutes ago. The photo was taken at an angle, as she saw her profile as well as Houston’s.
The second photo showed Houston’s face in the center of unmistakable rifle crosshairs.
Her phone buzzed. Words appeared below the photo.
Do not attempt to contact them or I will shoot. Reply ‘yes’ if you understand me.
Faye’s shaking fingers botched the reply several times, but she finally got it.
Good girl. Order a pizza from Papa John’s on Washington Street. If you attempt to show this message to anyone or alert anyone that you have spoken to me, I’ll kill the detectives and then you. Reply ‘yes’ if you understand me.
“Fuck,” Faye whispered, her breathing fast and wheezy, her blue eyes wide and filled with tears. “Fuck! Oh God, what do I do?”
The phone buzzed ominously again. You have ten seconds to reply before I kill them.
“Shit!” she fumbled and responded.
See you in thirty minutes, blondie.
Faye paced back and forth, gulping in shaky breaths. She knew it. She’d felt it in her gut that something was wrong, that it had been too easy for her and Jack to escape unscathed. If he’d gotten her number, there was a good chance someone was watching her right now. She couldn’t send a screenshot of the message to the police without him finding out. But she also couldn’t let a murderer into her apartment, not with her alone. It would be several minutes before Houston and Carmichael would catch on if she let them guy inside.
Maybe she could alert the Papa John’s employee. She started to look up the number, but realized he’d told her that on purpose. Somehow, he’d be the one to receive the order, not the actual store. Someone had tampered with her phone. But how? She hadn’t left it—
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