by Wesley Chu
Planning a graceful escape should have been the first thing she did when she arrived in Tokyo. Prepare for the worst. That was what Instructor Frieda, the woman at the Academy who taught mission survival, continually preached in class. Guess she had been right.
Ella should have treated this like a mission all along and prepared for all contingencies. Io had harped on about it constantly, but Ella just couldn’t be bothered. It was too much hassle, too much busywork. She had more important things to do. She could take care of it some other time. She didn’t realize how soon “some other time” would be.
I told you this a hundred times.
“Yeah, but you like to worry about silly things.”
I am obviously right.
“Lunch happens once a day.”
That does not even make sense. Besides, that is not even true. There have been many days when you were forced to skip lunch.
“Hush, Alien.”
Ella did finally refresh her go bag. She cleared the space in the center of her room and pulled the bed away from the wall. She flattened her stomach, pried the vent free, and pulled out her emergency stash.
As much as she lamented her experience at the Prophus Academy, she had learned quite a bit in her time there. There was an entire class on surviving in enemy territory, and a large segment of their curriculum was dedicated to exit strategies and the art of the escape. Instructor Frieda had always told the class to update their bags once a month. Ella hadn’t touched this thing since she had moved into this place.
She rummaged through the contents, pulling out the four passports stowed away. She picked the two for Victoria Khan and tossed them. She really should have found a good forger and updated everything as soon as she had settled, but she never thought she would have to leave so quickly. The two remaining passports were for Canada or Italy. Both neutral countries, although Canada was a hotbed of Prophus activity. Ella put her passports aside and pulled out the stacks of currencies: euros and dollars, easily changeable. She did a little math in her head on living standards and how much the cash would stretch. It wouldn’t go far.
She replenished the dried rations and water bottles, and made sure the clothes she had stashed still fit; they didn’t. It appeared she had experienced a mini growth spurt in the past half-year.
After that, Ella spent several hours searching online for a new home. She looked at several major cities: Rio de Janeiro, London, Oslo and Paris. She had always wanted to see the City of Lights. She envisioned some magical city with pretty museums and cafes, full of art, culture and charming men who sat around those cafes all day being charming.
You will run into the exact same problem in those cities as you did in Tokyo. Perhaps it is time to consider less metropolitan locations.
Ella reluctantly agreed. She began going through places she had always wanted to vacation. Places with warm weather and parties on beaches and good-looking buff guys. She especially took a liking to Jamaica. Something about the culture and lifestyle in the brochures really spoke to her. She could already imagine herself lounging on a towel while the clear waters lapped the sand and crawled up her legs.
Again, you will run into the exact same problem. I do not think you understand how this works. A vacation destination filled with tourists constantly streaming through is just as bad as a large city. This is what I was thinking.
An image of a green valley punctuated by rocky crags with a backdrop of snowcapped mountains filled her head. A clear blue lake reflected the clouds rushing across the sky. It was awfully pretty, but also looked awfully boring and lonely.
But safe.
Ella sighed. “Fine. Where is this place?”
Argentina. You will love it. We can go someplace where you will not find another soul for a thousand kilometers.
The next day, Ella checked the exchange rates and looked up ticket prices to Buenos Aires. She didn’t even have enough money to buy a ticket. She spent the rest of the afternoon searching for a cheaper route to Argentina. Flying to Chile and then going by bus could work. Perhaps even Columbia. There were really no good options. The fact was Ella just didn’t have enough funds left over to escape Japan let alone start over in a new country.
She was just about to break for dinner at Go-To Udon when she received a phone call. A name flashed across the screen: Fat Leech. She picked up the phone. “What do you want, Asshole?”
“Beektoria, listen. I’ve been thinking it over. I was too harsh with you. The damage at the bar isn’t too bad. Now that I’ve had time to cool off, maybe we can try to fix things.”
She stared at the phone suspiciously. Even on their best days Asao wasn’t this nice to her. “Why?”
Perhaps the money was too good.
“It wasn’t that good, Io.”
“I just realize that I overreacted in the moment,” pleaded Asao. “You and your little friends did come to my bar’s defense.”
“We ended our arrangement. You threatened to call the police on me,” she replied.
“I was angry and hasty,” said Asao. “I am wrong. I am sorry. I want to make things right, like before our misunderstanding.”
“You called me a worthless irritating hangnail that you were going to clip the next time our paths crossed.”
“Don’t hang up, please,” said Asao. “OK, I admit. I also came across a job. One I think only your Burglar Alarms can pull off.”
Ella didn’t believe that for a second. “Only us? Stop lying, Asshole. What’s the truth?”
“OK, OK,” he replied hastily. “Uh, the job is a one-time gig on short notice, and there’s no other crews available. You’re the last one I can call. The score is just too good.”
Greed got the better of her. She did need the money. “How good?”
“Millions of yen. Possibly tens of millions. We need to talk in person. It’s safer.”
Ella didn’t trust Asao. He could be trying to pull a fast one on her. Still, tens of millions sounded nice, and it wasn’t as if she had anything else going on. She needed the money badly. If the job was as good as he claimed, then it could get her to Argentina and set her up comfortably with a fresh start. Also, she could leave a good portion for the rest of the Burglar Alarms. Ever since she had decided to relocate, Ella had been feeling a little guilty about abandoning them; leaving them high and dry. At least she could get them one last score to help secure their future, kind of like severance.
Still, Ella was tempted to refuse Asao. They had left on awful terms. Both had said things that made it difficult to look the other in the eye.
Is this your ego or sensibility talking?
“Both,” she admitted. “Maybe a little more ego. What do you think, Io?”
I do not like it, we do not seem to have a choice. The money he is offering is the difference between starting over in another country and getting captured by our enemies. Take the meeting, but be wary. Make sure it is in a public place. Asao has always been too greedy for his own good. What is the worst that could happen? If the job is bad or too dangerous, just walk away.
“What’s the cut?” she asked Asao.
“Same as always.”
“Twenty-five percent for you.”
“What?” he sputtered. There was some mumbling and cursing away from the phone. “Fine,” he answered finally.
He had capitulated awfully fast. Ella had been prepared to negotiate all the way up to forty percent. He must be desperate. “I’ll stop by tonight. You serving dinner?”
“Great, Beektoria. I’ll have fresh soups waiting for you!”
Free soup was the best soup, and she was starving. Ella hung up the phone and sent texts to the rest of the Burglar Alarms, asking them to meet her at the World-Famous. The way she figured, it should be up to all of them to decide if they wanted to do this last job together. They had earned that.
No they have not.
“Hush, Alien.”
Ella strapped on her blades and
hurried out of her apartment. She paused at the front door of the building and waited a few beats. She had been feeling a little tense every time she left her building the past few days. Io had said it was simply a hint of paranoia from the shock of running into Nabin. It was expected and actually healthy for Ella. Her alien was probably right, but she was having a difficult time shaking the unease crawling up and down her arm.
Just in case, when she thought the coast was clear, Ella hugged one side of the street, doing her best to stay hidden and inconspicuous. She thought she did a pretty good job moving from shadow to shadow, crossing the street behind a young family. She reached the train station feeling confident no one saw her.
The train car was crowded with tourists and partygoers heading downtown to start the weekend. Everyone was polite and the passengers orderly as she stepped through the sliding doors. She easily found a seat between a wrinkled grandma with a shopping cart and a kid with a tall mohawk. Both moved aside politely as she sat down.
Ella continued to shift restlessly as the train pulled out of the station. She couldn’t shake off the feeling that she was being watched. She looked at the grandma. Could Nabin be following her? Maybe it was him hiding under a lot of makeup sitting right there. A thought occurred to Ella. She would be kind of glad if he was.
A scowl bubbled up on her face at this line of thinking.
I agree. Stop letting your emotions get the best of you.
The short trip from the stop to the World-Famous was a similar exercise. The crowds here were thicker, which made it easier for Ella to move undetected. She reached the World-Famous pretty sure that no one was the wiser. Old, mean Instructor Perkins – who incidentally had flunked Ella in the concealed movement class and forced her to retake it – would have been proud.
She saw Asao standing at the entrance to the World-Famous Bar & Udon, staring into the crowd, tapping his foot in that nervous way he did when business was slow. She waved. He noticed her and tensed. He waved for her to come inside, and then headed back into the bar.
“Does he think I’m going to stab him or something?”
You already tried to do that once. That does tend to leave an impression on someone.
Something gnawed at Ella. She passed by a fancy black car and peeked around to get a better angle to look inside. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. It looked like a pretty slow night at the World-Famous. She was about to walk into the bar when she decided at the last second to do just one pass around. She crossed to the other side of the street and glanced inside. The bar was mostly empty save for several businessmen in suits at the counter and a few small groups sitting in the booths.
Asao was behind the bar talking to a few of the suits. He looked decidedly stiff. Their eyes met briefly, and then his face reddened and he nodded.
Ella scanned the sparse clusters of patrons and noticed Lee and Hinata’s heads. Upon closer inspection, she noticed the rest of the Burglar Alarms were already there as well. A large hotpot was steaming in the center of the table. Asao was true to his word.
Ella began to cross the street to head into the bar. Just then, she noticed Kaoru sitting at the end of the booth. The girl’s hands were resting in her lap in a submissive pose, and her head was lowered. She raised her head and looked straight at Ella. It was very slight, but Kaoru shook her head.
Ella stopped in her tracks. The bar was too quiet for the number of patrons in there. There was a weird tension in the room. The businessmen in suits didn’t look like businessmen. She caught a glimpse of the ends of a green tattoo falling out of one of the sleeves. Then she noticed a young man trying to hide in the opposite corner. A white bandage was wrapped across his face.
“Oh no.”
This is a trap. Get out of here.
She should run. She had no choice, but that meant leaving the rest of the Burglar Alarms to their fates. That never ended well. The yakuza wanted her, not them. If she ran, they would pay for her deeds. The old Crate Town Ella would have been gone in a heartbeat. It was the smart decision, one every lone survivor made every single time. Live to fight another day, or something like that.
Do not be foolish. You help no one if they catch you.
Io was probably right.
Ella retreated two steps, then stopped. She wasn’t the old Crate Town Ella any more. That girl without attachments had grown attached to people, to causes. She had made friends, found a family. People who looked out and cared for her. People who had charged into a trap when she was in trouble. Regardless of it all, walking purposely into a trap was dumb beyond all means, and was probably the wrong thing to do. However, doing wrong and dumb things for the right reasons was more important.
“Hey Beektoria, are you coming in or not?”
It was Asao. She had been so lost in thought she hadn’t noticed him approach. He tried to sound friendly and casual, but his shaking hands betrayed him. His eyes looked terrified, shifting constantly. They were yelling at her to run. This was her last chance to back out and escape.
Ella, do not go in. If there is ever a time to consider my wisdom, now is it.
“Yeah, for sure,” said Ella. “What’s for dinner?”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Survey
To almost universal shock, Ella passed her first year at the Academy. The administrators had considered washing her out of the program several times. No matter what, though, Ella Patel was a survivor, and she did whatever she had to do to see the next sunrise.
I did not think it possible. It meant I had to work harder.
Roen and Nabin lounged on the lawn chairs they had just purchased from the Seico Mart around the corner. Their legs were hanging over the balcony railings, a six-pack of Asahi Extra Dry was chilling in a bucket of ice on a small table between them, and both were holding cups of steaming instant noodles.
Now this was starting to feel like the work vacation he had imagined when he accepted Cameron’s stupid gig.
He held up his cup of noodles. “What do you think?’
Nabin touched cups. “I can’t believe something like this exists.”
“I can’t believe you’ve never tried instant noodles before,” said Roen. “How is that even possible? What kind of hole have you been living in all your life?”
“One obviously derelict of joy and happiness.”
Roen had been outraged when he sent Nabin to bring back dinner their first night in Tokyo, and the guy brought back American fried chicken. Upon closer interrogation, he was appalled to learn that Nabin, who was born and raised in the American South, was a steak, potatoes and American barbecue guy, and rarely explored outside those culinary lanes. The guy liked what he liked and went out of his way to stay in his comfort zone.
“How can you have operated in Asia for five years and only eaten American food?” Roen ranted.
Nabin had shrugged. “What can I say? Asians love fried chicken.”
“You’re going to die of heart disease by thirty,” accused Roen.
Nabin shrugged. “I’m a Prophus agent running missions in Asia. Thirty’s optimistic.”
That much was true. Roen still felt that it was wrong that Nabin was operating in this region without at least trying some authentic Asian food, so he had been plying Nabin with every sort of Asian cuisine he could get his hands on. Most of the stuff Nabin couldn’t stand; the guy had a gag reflex like an infant. He had a visceral reaction to sushi, literally threw up when he tried duck, and somehow even disliked congee. Who the hell hates congee? Roen had called him the worst Asian ever. The Nepalese did not disagree. Fortunately, Nabin did like beef noodle soup, or Roen might have had to kick him out of the Prophus.
Nabin squinted and sat up in the lawn chair. He looked through a pair of mounted binoculars standing between them. “Nope, not our girl.” He sat back down and continued failing at using chopsticks as he slurped his cup of noodles.
Tarfur had followed Ella all the way back to her home the night a
fter the incident at the Rafaeli family summer home. Afterward, the team had decided to move from the sewer safe house to the palatial estate. Pedro had protested profusely. The estate was his mother’s favorite vacation home, and he hadn’t asked for permission to use it. Roen had pulled rank, making up something something eminent domain something. He was loving living above ground, and the only way he would move back underground was if they were burying his decomposing body.
They also rented a tiny place in a mid-rise three blocks away from Ella’s apartment, giving themselves a clear line of sight to her building off the main street in the Nishi Kasai district and the train station. The team was now running around-the-clock surveillance on Ella, tracking her every movement, which honestly was pretty disappointing.
They could have just nabbed her, but then what? They couldn’t just roll her up in a carpet and toss her into a cargo hold. Besides, there would be big problems if they were caught. He had to admit, he was almost willing to suffer the consequences of kidnapping Ella, except it was illegal and risky and he would likely end up somewhere with a long prison sentence.
Japan was technically a neutral country, so they couldn’t depend on the government for help. Even more so, the government probably wouldn’t take too kindly to kidnapping. Roen was pretty sure the new Keeper would let him and his team rot in jail, if anything just to teach them a lesson. They needed to convince her to come willingly. Roen figured as long as the girl was in no danger, they had time to wait and see what she would do next.
Apparently, Ella’s next move was to flee the country. They easily learned about her plans after tracking her to a couple local stores, a currency exchange, and several pawn shops that the girl was planning to flee to South America. The dead giveaway was when she bought a tourism guide from the local bookstore. Hekla was standing right next to her when she made the purchase. They hadn’t pegged exactly which country – she appeared to be exploring several possibilities – but they were fairly confident she was preparing to make her move soon.
That suited Roen fine. Grabbing Ella right when she got off the plane in South America was much easier than trying to nab her here in Tokyo. He initially thought she was going to immediately flee, but for some reason she never pulled the trigger.