by CJ Petterson
“Remove your second gun.”
“Not carrying.” Sully held his jacket open.
“You do not travel without a second weapon. Where is it?” Itoh motioned one of his men forward to search Sully. “In the plane,” Sully said. The man finished patting Sully down and walked toward Mirabel, smiling.
She glanced at his face then fixed her gaze on Sully. The man pried her legs apart with his foot, yanked her jacket open, and patted her down, running his hands roughly over her shape. He spun her around, shoved her against the cabinet, and kicked at her heel.
“Wide.”
She leaned over the tool cabinet, and while he watched her spread her legs, she covered the phone with her hand. She closed her eyes tight as he ran his hands over her body again. He grunted and nodded at Itoh then walked back behind his boss.
“Your goon’s got about as much finesse as King Kong, Mr. Itoh,” Mirabel yelled.
“You spend much time in Las Vegas at the gaming tables, Sully,” Itoh said. “To use your language, you are busted. It will be my pleasure to watch you die.”
“Watch?” Sully said. “Yes, of course, you use others to do what you cannot … as others use you.”
Itoh’s eyes narrowed, but his face remained stony as he lifted a shoulder.
“You hired SinJen to kill my wife.”
“Ex-wife,” Itoh corrected. “Your make-believe pain is nothing. My pain is real. Agents of North Korea come into our cities, our homes, in the black of night and take away hundreds of our people to become slaves, to die in North Korean gulags.”
“A sad and true story, perhaps, but an old one.”
“Not old. As we speak, they hold Japanese children hostage. One of these is a beloved child of my own family.”
“The child of a very distant relative, not of your own blood.”
“The blood of emperors flows in my veins. All of Japan is my family. It would not be wise to doubt the depth of my feelings.”
“That seems to be a recent development.”
“The North Korean devils expand their evil. These criminals think they can hold the world hostage with their plans to build nuclear weapons.”
“And what you are doing is more to be admired?” Sully asked. “You threaten the world with a bio-weapon hidden in the sky.”
“Hidden.” Itoh smiled thinly. “Ah, yes, it does orbit hidden in the shadow of your own secret satellite.” He waited a beat then recited, “Two tiny liars/Hide among the ancient stars/Behold disorder. A most appropriate haiku, don’t you agree? Nothing to say? No matter. The device will be disarmed if — ”
“You admit it is a weapon.”
“Let me restate. I will retrieve the satellite when your government adds the release of the Japanese hostages to their demand that North Korea abandon its nuclear agenda. Such a humanitarian request is not too much to ask.”
“That is not for me to say.”
“If this most civilized demand is not met, North Korea will not be the only arrogant government to suffer.” Itoh paused. “One small adjustment, and the blame for a world famine shall be heaped upon the head of the United States president.”
Sully’s laugh was harsh. “And you say it is North Korea trying to hold the world hostage. You’re so crazy that you think you can blackmail the world’s most powerful government to extract some ransom?”
“How American of you,” Miiko said, her voice cold. “We do not seek gold, or oil, or worthless American dollars. Our currency is power.”
“Be still.” Her brother held up a quieting hand. “Ransom can be many things.” He spun on his heel to again to face Sully. “With the passing of days, your government continues to splinter and disintegrate under the weight of conflicts and disasters. Your own citizens attack your resolve and resources. The Japanese peoples are unified. My plan will succeed.”
“Your plan will fail.” Sully said.
“Failure is not an option.”
“Then you have not thoroughly considered all the options. Before you gamble at the big money table, you’d better know the game you’re playing. I hold the winning hand in today’s game,” Sully replied. “Your faceless ninja here is about to make her debut into society. As we speak, her name and photo have arrived at Interpol offices, police agencies, and wire services in Paris, Israel, London, and Stockholm. Who she is and what she does will soon be the headlines for newspapers around the world. Her secret life is over.”
“Miiko has never been photographed.”
“That was true before she decided to masquerade as a deputy sheriff.”
Itoh glared at his sister. “You allowed a picture?”
Miiko closed her eyes and bowed.
A barrage of Japanese exploded from Itoh’s lips as Miiko’s body folded into a deep bow. When his tirade finished, she spoke to her brother in whispered Japanese.
“It will not be difficult for your father to determine who pulls her chain,” Sully said. “The disgrace of a child, especially an eldest son, is a terrible thing for a prominent Japanese family.”
“That is your so-called winning hand? My father is an impotent old man,” Itoh said.
“You misjudge him as a child often misjudges the power of a parent. Your father is a diplomat with a reputation to protect. Here’s your royal flush, Sou-ji. Our scientists have disabled your nanosatellite. Your bio-weapon is dead and drifting. NASA will retrieve its worthless carcass within a few hours. As they say in Vegas, read ’em and weep.” Sully waited to see if Itoh would call his bluff.
Itoh hesitated. “That is to be seen,” he said then barked something in Japanese at his sister who bowed deeply.
“Hai,” Miiko murmured, bowing again. “Hai.”
Itoh grunted then turned to Sully. “You will now die at the hands of a woman.”
“Then it is you, not your father, who is impotent,” Sully sniped. “You have no stomach to do your own killing.”
“It is Miiko’s duty and her wish,” Itoh said. “Allowing a photograph was her mistake. I have offered a choice of how she must apologize: by committing yubitsume or by fighting you to the death.”
Sully stared at Miiko. Her fighting skills would closely match his, but he had almost a hundred pounds on her. “Then she has chosen to lose her life rather than cut off her finger. I too am a practitioner of ninjutsu.”
Miiko took a step toward Mirabel, but Sully moved to block her.
“You and me,” he said.
“First you then the woman,” Miiko said, her voice dropping into a guttural snarl. She pulled the ninja-ken from her back scabbard then dipped into a crouch, holding the sword’s haft in both hands.
Mirabel saw the ninja’s eyes glint from behind the holes in her hood, saw the cloth suck in and out with each breath. Miiko swung her short sword, and Mirabel inhaled a gasp at the swooshing sound the movement made.
Sully didn’t backpedal fast enough, and the path of the sword slashed across his upper chest. A thin red line on his shirt wept blood.
Mirabel touched one-one on the cellphone and saw “connecting” flash on the screen.
Sully picked up a floor broom and used the handle to deflect her strikes. With a two-handed swing, Miiko divided the stick, driving her blade to the floor. Sully charged. He wrestled the sword from her hand, sent it rattling across the concrete. She spun and kicked. He took a glancing blow to the chest. She drew a dagger from a scabbard strapped to the belt at her waist and lunged. He sidestepped and pulled her close, driving his elbow into the side of her skull.
Miiko staggered back. Mirabel groaned when she saw the dagger come away dripping Sully’s blood.
When the ninja turned to face Sully squarely, Mirabel yelled into the phone, “We’re in the hangar.”
Itoh motioned to his men and stepped back into the Mercedes.
His two soldiers pushed open the hangar doors. Engine whining, the car backed out and drove off after picking up the men at the door.
“No, no,” Mirabel whimpered. She dropped the cellphone on the cabinet,and ran for Sully’s gun. She pulled the slide to chamber a cartridge and circled the fighters, but Sully staggered in front of her. She couldn’t get a clear shot. “Help!” she screamed at the phone. “We need help now! Itoh is getting away!”
Sully held a hand against his side, his chest heaving, his face ashen. Blood seeped between his fingers and from the corner of his mouth.
“Your brother deserted you, Miiko,” Mirabel taunted. The ninja glanced her way. “He left you to die,” Mirabel called. “Don’t dishonor yourself. He’s a coward. A true ninja wouldn’t die for a coward.”
Mirabel could hear the rasp of their breathing.
The tactics of their fight changed as they tired. Sully’s moves slowed, became more deliberate while Miiko seemed to begin racing for the kill. Her spinning grew wild, her kicks more reckless.
“Your brother used you!” Mirabel yelled. “He made you a drug addict so he could control you.” Mirabel kept circling, holding the gun outstretched with both hands, looking for an opening. “You won’t die a warrior’s death if you kill Sully for him. You’ll be buried in shame.” Mirabel had no idea if any of that were true, but she hoped her words would distract Miiko.
Sully warded off Miiko’s kicks, absorbing the force with the side of his arm. He ducked, dodged, then grabbed her blade hand and twisted. Off-balance, she stumbled back. He moved in after her, thrust the heel of his hand up against her chin, wrapped a leg behind hers, and shoved.
As she fell back, Miiko grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him over the top of her head. He slammed onto his back, grunted, and lay unmoving. She scrambled up and crabbed toward him, the dagger still gripped in her hand.
Mirabel blinked away tears and squeezed the trigger. The bullet sprayed concrete chips and gray powder in front of the ninja, and the sound careened off the metal walls. Miiko’s eyes found Mirabel.
“Stop!” Mirabel yelled. She steadied her aim. “I won’t miss again.” And she knew she wouldn’t. She couldn’t, or Sully would die.
Miiko barked a laugh, lunged forward toward Mirabel then hesitated when a roar filled the space. A convoy of black SUVs squealed into the hangar. Marshall was out of the lead vehicle before it stopped.
Sully rolled to his feet and grabbed Miiko by the throat with one hand. He grimaced, dug his fingers into her neck, and squeezed hard to seal off her carotid arteries. She swung her dagger wildly, dragging the blade across his arm. Then she dropped the weapon and clawed at his fingers with both hands.
Sully staggered, collapsed to his knees then folded onto the concrete. But he had blocked the flow of blood to Miiko’s brain long enough. Unconscious before his fingers released their hold, she sprawled on top of him.
The wail of a siren was cut short when the ambulance halted inside the hangar. Mirabel reached Sully as Marshall’s men rolled Miiko off of him. One of them pressed his fingers lightly against Sully’s neck. “I’ve got a pulse. It’s thready, but I got one.” Another checked Miiko’s pulse. “She’s alive.”
Mirabel dropped to her knees beside Sully. He lay partially on his side, blood seeping from cuts on his arms, his hands, his chest. She moaned softly and put her hand against his shoulder. She needed to touch him.
“Move away, Mirabel. Let the EMTs do their job,” Marshall said. He pulled her up, and a medic filled the space beside Sully.
She saw the bloody bubbles on his lips and remembered she’d seen the same thing on Dan. Miiko’s blade had punctured a lung.
The EMTs put Sully on a litter and inserted a saline drip in his arm. They took readings of his vital signs and phoned the information to a trauma team in a hospital emergency room. Then they loaded him into the ambulance and raced out of the hangar.
Mirabel silently watched Marshall’s impassive face until the shriek of the siren faded. “What took you so long?”
“It just seemed like a long time to you.”
“What’s going to happen to Itoh?”
“Not to worry.” Marshall wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Come on. I’ll drive you to the hospital.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
“Good to see you, Mirabel.” Marshall covered her hand with both of his as he looked toward the door of the teleconferencing room. “Where’s Sully?”
“I’m not sure. He said he had some loose ends to tie up.”
“Dan’s funeral is tomorrow, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is,” Sully said as he walked into the room.
Mirabel came close to tears when she saw him. “Are you as sore as you look? Ignore the question. I know you are.” Angry welts and abrasions peppered Sully’s ashen face, and he limped. She looked around the room. “What’s going on?”
“I thought you might like to see the final chapter in the Itoh chronicles,” Marshall said.
Mirabel slid into a chair next to Sully and watched the room on the other side of the TV monitor fill up. She felt a jolt of shock when Soujiro and Miiko Itoh appeared on camera, surrounded by guards. State Department staffers followed.
“I think this is the last time we’ll see the two of them,” Sully whispered and pointed to Soujiro and Miiko.
“What’s going to — ” Mirabel began.
“Shh,” Sully whispered as the senior White House official appeared on-screen.
After introductions for the official videotape record and a few moments of hushed conversation with an aide, the senior official turned and motioned. Mirabel heard the sound of a door opening and closing, and a smallish man in a black suit, white shirt, and maroon-and-white-striped tie walked on camera.
“Is that their father?” Mirabel whispered to Sully, who shook his head and shifted stiffly in his seat. It had been only two weeks since the fight in the hangar, and he still wore thick bandages.
“I’m pleased to welcome Mr. Tanaka, who is representing the Japanese consul at this meeting,” the senior White House official said.
The man bent forward slightly at the waist before he sat down. “The ambassador spoke with me only moments ago,” Mr. Tanaka said in a precise, clipped voice. “He is unable to join us today and wishes me to express his deep regret. He is abruptly needed to attend to a most pressing matter at the consulate.”
The senior White House official smiled blandly. “Of course. In the diplomatic world, we are quite aware our time is not our own. You must reassure the ambassador that, even in his absence, citizens of the Japanese government are accorded all the respect due official guests on American soil.”
“My esteemed colleague understands the Japanese embassy is considered to be on Japanese soil,” Mr. Tanaka said.
“Of course, and Japanese citizens in the United States legitimately under the umbrella of the Japanese consulate enjoy the diplomatic immunity generously granted to them by our government.”
Mr. Tanaka nodded.
“There are other Japanese citizens, however, who make the mistake of breaking the law of sovereign nations, then attempt to claim diplomatic immunity to which they are not entitled,” the senior White House official continued. “And that is why you have been invited here today. It has been brought to our attention that certain Japanese nationals have not only broken the laws of the United States but also international laws.”
“If they don’t have immunity,” Mirabel whispered to Sully, “why don’t we just give them a trial, find them guilty, and send them to prison?”
“Three words: ‘Top Secret’ and ‘Classified.’”
“Right.”
“Speculating on unfounded allegations serves no practical purpose,” the Japanese representative responded.
“Unfortunately, t
he egregious actions to which I refer are neither speculation nor unfounded,” the senior White House official said.
Mirabel found the stilted diplomatic language fascinating. The conversation of friendly adversaries.
The senior official opened the manila folder an assistant had placed in front of the two men. “We have documentation that Mr. Soujiro Itoh secretly launched a satellite then attempted to blackmail important governments by threatening to employ the satellite as a bio-weapon. Ms. Miiko Itoh joined him in this criminal behavior. Had they been successful, very probably there would have been war between many powerful world governments, yours and mine among them.”
The senior official paused and smiled. “The United States has been able to neutralize the threat. Because the bio-weapon was developed with familiar technology, NASA was able to disarm it with very little effort.”
“If such a bio-weapon exists, my government naturally requests that you return it to us.”
“And we would, of course, be happy to do so. Unfortunately, however, the satellite was not well constructed and was accidentally destroyed when a team of astronauts tried to retrieve it for you.”
Mr. Tanaka nodded. “Perhaps the actions of NASA were misguided. Mr. Itoh claims he does not have the knowledge nor the technology to develop such a satellite. Further, he has no reason to threaten any governments. Rather, he informed us that it is your government that has a secret nanosatellite in space.”
Mirabel tensed. How is he going to deflect this?
“And you have validated his assertion?” the senior official asked softly.
Mr. Tanaka paused. “Not yet.”
Mirabel seemed to hear an emphasis on “yet.”
The senior official looked toward Soujiro and smiled. “Perhaps it is more likely that young Mr. Itoh has a vivid imagination and enjoys science fiction.” Then his face went blank. “My government can state, unequivocally, that no such satellite exists.”
Mirabel blinked in awe at the sincerity in the senior official’s voice. He’s right. At this moment, the satellite no longer exists. Plausible denial.