Girl Takes The Oath (An Emily Kane Adventure Book 5)

by Jacques Antoine

  “And by careful you mean…”

  “Merciless.”

  The tone in her voice froze him, maybe more than she’d intended. She spent the next few minutes cooing into her end of the line, provoking, teasing and assuaging him all at once, and at least part of her pleasure came from the thought of how the rest of his team would poke fun at him if they could listen in. When she finally let him off the hook, it was because of a noise coming from behind her.

  Slowly and with great deliberation, she dismantled the phone, snapped the SIM card in two, and shifted her position on the sofa in Michael’s study. In a swift and sudden move, she reached over the back and thrust her arm into the space between it and the wall, probing, searching, until she found ticklish flesh. Squealing and squirming, Li Li was too big just to hoist up with one hand, now eight years old, and tall and lanky, but still every bit a little kid.

  “Come out here, you. Where’s your partner in crime?”

  “It’s just me, Emmy,” Li Li finally said, once her face was safely buried under one of Emily’s arms.

  “How much did you hear, little one?”

  “Did that man hurt you? When you were sparring?

  “You saw that?” she asked, keenly aware of the fear trembling in Li Li’s voice, and the flutter in her heart. Even though she’d practically adopted Andie and Yuki as her new mothers, Emily knew that she provided the only real feeling of security Li Li would likely ever know. Even her uncle Jiang, huge as he was, could hardly fill the hole left by the death of her parents… and he hadn’t been the one to rescue her from a prison on the Kamchatka Krai.

  “Anthony saw,” she said, with a whimper, pressing her face deeper into Emily’s armpit. “He told us.”

  “That man’s name was Jiao Long.”

  “Swift dragon,” Li Li mumbled.

  “He was very swift, but he didn’t hurt me. In his own way, I think he was trying to protect me. Don’t worry.”

  “Is he really gone now? Gone forever?”

  How to explain what happened, to make her feel safe, and not to lie—these were bedeviling questions. Of course, she had to shield a child from the horror of what really happened, but whatever she said, it had to be consistent with whatever Li Li might learn later.

  “He’s gone… for good,” she said, with an air of finality, and then looked for a way to change the subject before Li Li asked about the knife. “Now tell me what’s really bothering you. Sensei told me you don’t like sparring anymore. Is that true?”

  “Boys are cheaters.”

  “How do they cheat?”

  “They hit harder than they’re supposed to,” Li Li said. “And Sensei doesn’t stop them, even though it’s against the rules.”

  “You know how to stop them all by yourself. You don’t need Sensei’s help.”

  “How?”

  “Just hit them as hard as they hit you,” Emily said, even though it was a piece of advice she probably couldn’t have taken at that age. “Then they’ll be more careful.”

  “But I’d be breaking the rules, too.”

  The logic of Li Li’s dilemma was inescapable; Emily felt it keenly. In the end, there was no way out of it other than to bend the rules and take the matter into her own hands, or to hope someone else would solve the problem for her. Emily had no doubt which path she hoped Li Li would eventually learn to take.

  “Where’s Stone? Is he hiding somewhere, too?”

  “He’s playing with Anthony and Ethan in the woods.”

  “Let’s go find them.”

  Back to top

  Chapter Eighteen

  A Dead Body at the Doorstep

  Michael remembered the conversation as vividly now as on that day in his kitchen three weeks earlier, and it still worried him, even though the catastrophe he’d feared hadn’t come to pass in the meantime.

  “You didn’t do it, right?” he demanded, as directly as he could manage, standing in the kitchen, trying to look Connie in the eye, but finding it difficult to sustain. Andie stood next to her on the other side of the center island, a tea kettle on the stove getting ready to squeal. Ethan held himself at a discreet distance, trying to look only tangentially related to this inquiry.

  “If it had been me, do you think he’d still be alive?” Connie muttered.

  “Tough talk is easy,” Michael said. “But we have to be ready in case the inquiry dumps news crews on our front porch.”

  “This happened right outside the embassy?” Andie asked.

  “It looks like the shooter was on a rooftop over half a mile away,” he said. “One shot and gone, no clues on the scene.”

  “Sounds like one helluva shot,” Ethan said.

  “That’s nothing,” Connie said. “I know guys who could kill at three times that distance.” When Michael frowned, she added, “I’m just saying… lots of people could have done that.”

  “And what’s this got to do with Emily, anyway?” Andie asked.

  “Nothing, at least not directly,” Michael said. “But if we think O’Brien’s involved with the Chinese, with Zhang, especially after what happened at Quantico, there’s gonna be questions.”

  “Well, all I know is I didn’t do it,” Connie said. “Has it even occurred to you to ask Theo? He’s good enough for that shot. Where was he yesterday?”

  “On a flight to Qatar, I hope,” Andie said.

  “Whoever did it is less important than what it means for Emily. Any action against the Chinese and NCIS will have to look at her as a suspect.”

  “Why Emily?”

  “Three incidents we know of where Chinese operatives appear to have targeted her,” Connie said. “They can’t ignore that. It gives her a pretty clear motive.”

  “If DSS chimes in, it looks even worse for her,” Michael added. “O’Brien already thinks she’s dangerous. At least that’s what the NCIS report about the incident on the bridge suggests.”

  “Did he show you the report?” Andie asked. “What does it say?”

  Michael hesitated a moment before responding, rubbing the back of his neck. “Twelve dead, and they think as many as ten killed by her, five with no gunshot wounds.”

  “Holy crap,” Ethan said.

  Connie shook her head and muttered in a low voice, “That’s my girl.”

  Thinking about it in hindsight, Connie’s last remark told Michael everything he needed to know. She wouldn’t have hesitated to kill Zhang if she thought it might keep Emily safe, but she was much too canny not to realize what the consequences of such an act would be. Even though he couldn’t quite fathom how it had happened, Emily had bound Connie, a hardened assassin, to her interests more closely than any sister.

  But the latest news was even more worrisome than a failed attempt on the life of the Chinese ambassador. Even if Zhang Jun had been killed, Emily was no sniper, and connecting her to a larger conspiracy would not be easy, he thought, knowing how cautious she was by habit. A second diplomat, however, stabbed to death on the doorstep of the Academy pointed directly at her—her motives, her skills, her neighborhood.

  ~~~~~~~

  “Are you seeing this?” McDonough asked, eyes glued to one of the many TVs suspended from the curved ceiling of King Hall, half-eaten banana in one hand, and a glass of orange juice in the other. The feed crawling across the bottom of the screen said something about disputed islands in the East China Sea.

  “Yeah,” Zaki said. “A couple of patrol boats faced off with a pair of Chinese frigates. I had no idea the JDF commanders had that kind of nerve.”

  “Or that free a hand.”

  “It’s like the wild west out there… or maybe the wild east,” Zaki said.

  “Em, did you meet any of these guys on your surface cruise?” McDonough asked.

  “On which side?”

  “Yeah, right, Em,” Zaki said. “That’s a good one.”

  “They’re young, those guys” she said, “maybe only their second year out of OCS in Etajima. And there aren’t many command s
lots in the frigate class, so they’ve gotta make a name for themselves when they get a chance.”

  “What about the Chinese?” McDonough asked. “What are they like?”

  Emily shrugged and CJ piped up. “Don’t you guys do any homework? The Chinese Navy is as much bureaucracy as it is fleet. I bet those frigate captains don’t act without orders in triplicate.”

  “Are you saying they ran over those fishing boats on orders?”

  “I wouldn’t underestimate the incompetence factor,” Emily said. “It can get pretty foggy out there, and there’s a nasty current around the Senkakus.”

  “If it’s so hairy, what are the fishermen doing there?”

  “It’s on the edge of the drop-off, and that means big catches. Plus, there are a few spots where they can shelter on the leeward side. But the Chinese frigates are too big and draw too much to maneuver.”

  “Are you saying they suckered the Chinese?” Zaki asked.

  “Nah. The JDF runs patrol boats out there all the time. But I bet when they got wind of the Chinese, those commanders were counting on a few frigates out of Sasebo to back them up.”

  “Are they on the verge of a shooting war?” McDonough asked. “Over what… a couple of barren rocks in the middle of nowhere?”

  “The frigates did sink two fishing boats,” Stacie said. “That’s more than just bluster.”

  “Yeah, but the Chinese pulled everyone out of the water,” CJ said. “After the shouting died down, I’m sure they shuttled ’em over to the JDF patrol boats.”

  As Emily’s friends chewed on the meaning of events on the other side of the world, another story flashed across the TVs—A Chinese Embassy official found dead three blocks from Gate One of the Naval Academy. When a face appeared on the screen, Emily recognized him immediately—Dong Zhuo, the ambassador’s protocol officer—and she knew it would only be a matter of time, a few hours, maybe even just a few minutes, before NCIS came for her, just as they had a few weeks earlier when someone took a shot at Zhang Jun.

  To make matters worse, she’d run into Dong Zhuo just the day before, Saturday, in one of the restaurants popular with the boating set down by the city dock. The evening found her at the raw bar in McGinty’s with CJ and Stacie, carefree, enjoying the attentions of well-to-do older men, who were flicked away once they no longer amused. When her friends went to the Ladies’ Room, he sat next to her.

  “You’ve picked the wrong side,” he said, staring daggers at her.

  With Braswell’s words echoing in the back of her mind, she said “I’m beginning to lose track of how many sides there are.” Then, just to needle him, she added, “Why don’t you fill me in?”

  “Don’t play the innocent,” he snarled.

  “Fine, but according to Jiao Long, you guys don’t really want me on your team.” When he didn’t respond, she continued in a darker vein. “You only want what Colonel Park wanted, and that doesn’t interest me.”

  He slid off the barstool, grunted something in a dialect of Chinese she hadn’t been studying, and left the bar before the girls returned.

  Had anyone seen them together? She didn’t remember any security cameras in the restaurant, certainly not at the raw bar. But did she know for certain CJ or Stacie hadn’t seen him? Thinking back on it now, she could only hope they hadn’t.

  She spotted agents Horton and Everett standing by the center entrance to the galley, some fifty yards away, talking to a member of the wait-staff. He pointed in the direction of her table, but the bustle of waiters and food carts kept them from seeing her right away. The mids at a nearby table were in the middle of an argument about a local sports team, which was utterly inconsequential to Emily, but for the fact that it captured the attention of Zaki and McDonough.

  Taking advantage of the screen their bodies created, she turned to CJ and said, “You guys remember what I said last night?”

  “About moving out?” CJ asked in a whisper.

  “No way,” Stacie said. “We’re not leaving you alone.”

  “I don’t have time to argue,” Emily said. “Things are about to get too hot around me, and you need to keep your distance. The girls in the Twelfth have room for you. When I get back, you need to be gone.” Of course, she didn’t know when, or if, she’d be coming back. Then, with a preemptory glower at Stacie, she pushed back from the table and walked over to meet the NCIS agents.

  ~~~~~~~

  The conference room on the third floor of Halligan Hall was more intimidating than the Deputy Commandant’s office, but it was a relief not to have to stonewall in front of Captain Crichton. Emily breathed easier just looking at the wood paneling, the US Flag with a golden eagle decorating the end of the pole, as if it were a Roman standard. They kept her waiting for what seemed like hours, though in reality it probably didn’t exceed thirty or forty minutes. Just an interrogation technique, she kept telling herself. Still, the beveled edge of the oval table, the padded chairs, even a curtain on the window, told her this was not an interrogation room. What sort of questions would they ask? She heard voices in the hall, and then the door swung open and Agent Everett entered, followed closely by Agent Horton

  “Miss Tenno,” Horton began, “I take it you heard about Dong Zhuo.”

  “Yes, sir. I saw on the news that he’s been killed.”

  “You recognized him, then. Have you met him?”

  “Yes, sir, in Quantico about a month ago. The Chinese Ambassador introduced him to me. I think he was a guest of SECNAV.”

  “Is that the last time you saw him?”

  Emily hesitated for a moment before answering. When she saw the news at breakfast, her first thought was that Kano had killed him. When he left the restaurant, she didn’t think he posed any sort of threat to her, but maybe Kano had seen something more sinister. Or perhaps he’d merely over-reacted. In any event, she didn’t want any information she shared to point NCIS in his direction, if she could help it.

  “Well?” Agent Everett pressed.

  “No, it isn’t. He accosted me in McGinty’s yesterday evening.”

  “Are the two of you on familiar terms?” she asked.

  “No, ma’am.”

  “What did you talk about?” Horton asked.

  “I’m not quite sure I know, sir. He seemed to think I’d taken a side, the wrong side.”

  “Is that when you decided to kill him?” Everett asked suddenly.

  The charge washed over Emily like cold water, and she wondered if she should react or not. Her habits had taught her to control such responses, but perhaps that wouldn’t serve her so well now.

  “Are you accusing me?”

  “Don’t assume an alibi provided by your roommates will make a difference,” Everett continued. Emily bristled at the insinuation that she would induce her friends to lie for her.

  “We have a photo of you and your accomplice,” Horton said, pushing a printout at her, a grainy image of a scene she recognized only too well, probably a still from a security camera on one of the government buildings on Calvert Street. Kano’s features could not be discerned from what looked like a low-res screen capture… though who knows what miracles some tech geek might be able to perform on the image? But the silhouette of a midshipman in uniform was clear enough, and the time stamp would allow Braswell and Padgett to identify her. Were they waiting outside to make a theatrical entrance and frighten her into a confession?

  “I did not kill Dong Zhuo, and I doubt very much this man did either,” Emily said, even though she knew he was perfectly capable of it if he thought she was in danger.

  “So you recognize him, then?” Everett said

  “Yes, sir,” Emily said, wondering how much else she could say, how much NCIS would understand, or even should know about him. She knew so little herself, an obscure conspiracy, the safety of Princess Toshi and an urgent plea from the Crown Princess. But she needed to say some true thing about him. “His name is Kano Shinichi. He’s been following me around town for a few months now, I think
, to keep me safe.”

  “Safe from whom?”

  “I’ve never been entirely clear about that.”

  “What would make him want to take on such a task in the first place?” Everett asked.

  “He told me he’d been sent by the Imperial family.”

  “…of Japan?” Horton asked.

  “I met him a few years ago, in Tokyo. He is a samurai retainer of the Crown Princess.”

  “Are you aware that he was dismissed from the Imperial Household in disgrace more than two years ago?” Everett asked.

  “No, ma’am,” she said, now contriving her first falsehood for NCIS, though it was probably safe since only the Crown Princess could give her the lie.

  “We have reason to believe he was behind several violent assaults on members of the Chinese embassy staff, and may be responsible the deaths of at least two men last fall.”

  “You believe he killed Dong Zhuo?”

  “What we believe is that you are up to your eyeballs in a conspiracy with this man to disrupt the Pacific Rim conference,” Everett said.

  “And the attempt on my life at the tournament in Quantico, how does that fit with your theory?”

  “We believe Jiao Long was acting on orders from Dong Zhuo to terminate a threat. We can link Kano to an extremist party in Japan that has been seeking to create an incident in the East China Sea in order to bring down the current government and provide an excuse to reassert Japanese military power in Asia.”

  “Are you accusing me of conspiring with a foreign power? That would be treason.”

  Everett glowered at her without answering. Horton pushed a formal document across the table. “There’s a fine line between treason and working with us to thwart a conspiracy,” he said.

  “I don’t follow you, sir.”

  “If you’re convicted of treason, it’s at least a prison term, maybe worse,” Everett hissed at her.

  “But if you help us track Kano’s network,” Horton added, “you can just work off your commitment to the Navy and go free.”