by Jordan Dane
“Sounds like we have a plan.” Before Mercer finished his thought, his cell phone rang.
He connected the call with his Bluetooth and heard the sound of Nilah’s voice.
“I’ve got good news, Mercer.”
“We could use a little of that. You’re on speaker. Shoot.”
“I found the IP location for the anonymous poster of the Tanaka video. I only have an online handle of ToxicSupremacy from the chat room forum, but I found the physical address in Butte, Montana where this ‘waste of skin’ lives.”
“Did you find a real name?”
“Normally I would have it, but the ID on the address sounded like a business, Sunrise House. It’s located in a residential neighborhood, but it could be a business run out of a home.”
“You usually need the cooperation of the Internet service provider to get the kind of detail you scored, don’t you?” Mercer knew the answer before she had to admit it.
“You got me. I purloined it. There, I said it. What they don’t know won’t hurt them.”
“Hey, I’m just asking,” Mercer said. “Give me that address.”
After Ciara wrote down the information, Mercer tried ending the call, but Nilah stopped him.
“Mercer?”
“Yeah?”
“If you get your hands on the device ‘ToxicSupremacy’ used for the upload, I can walk you through instructions to allow me onto his computer remotely. I’ll search it for other connections, if there’s a network of these bastards. It’ll save time and maybe provide a lead on what happened to Tanaka. I could get a jump on it.”
Mercer heard it in Nilah’s voice—the worry about whether Tanaka was alive or dead. He hadn’t been impervious to the dread of not knowing, but Mercer also had second thoughts on interfering with prosecution. His years as a CIA agent had left their mark, giving him an appreciation for honest, well-intentioned law enforcement.
“Your online interference would screw up any criminal case if the locals want to prosecute.”
Mercer said the words aloud as a caution to himself. He knew he could jeopardize any criminal proceedings by potentially disqualifying the Tanaka assault video and any link through the chat room. The Alliance only cared about the right people being punished and weren’t interested in courtroom justice, but his past CIA experience made him aware of the legalities.
“Yeah, there’s that,” she said. “But if we’re thinking Tanaka is still alive and in trouble, what’s our priority? I’ll do whatever you say. You’re el jefe.”
Mercer didn’t hesitate.
“Our priority is finding Ichiro Tanaka and shutting down whoever is behind his assault and abduction. You’re absolutely right, Nilah.”
“I’m glad you said that. I’ve already sent you a care package by plane. I think you’ll need it for your search, if there’s an online network of these sorry excuses for human beings.”
Nilah told him about the arrival of a plane in Helena and Mercer smiled. His computer genius had turned into a mind reader.
“Change in plans,” Mercer told Ciara and Kujo. “Next stop, Helena. We have a plane to meet.”
***
Helena Regional Airport
Two hours later
In the spotlights off an airport runway, Ciara Flowers stood beside Mercer on the tarmac after nightfall. She watched a plane rolling toward the private hanger where they were parked. Kujo leaned against the Navigator with his dog, Six, at his heels.
“This delivery must be important. What’s the big deal?” Kujo nudged Ciara on the shoulder for an answer after he overheard Mercer’s call with Nilah. His curiosity had won out.
“We’re expecting a vital member of our team,” she said.
When the plane stopped, attendants rushed from the hangar and rolled up a small jet bridge for passengers to disembark. Ciara watched Mercer crane his neck for a glimpse of the ‘care package’ Nilah had promised him. A grin spread across his face when he saw a familiar silhouette. A massive black and tan head peered over the gangway and Ciara laughed aloud at the sight.
“Watch this.” She elbowed Kujo.
Karl spotted Mercer and broke into a run. Like a kid, Mercer raced for his dog and met him halfway in a collision of man muscle and furry scruff. Karl whined and jumped into Mercer’s arms as if he hadn’t seen him in years, lapping his face and neck with his big pink tongue.
“What the hell is that?” Kujo narrowed his eyes at the spectacle. “Is that a…bear?”
The Tibetan Mastiff did resemble a large, lumbering bear. His droopy jowls and mesmerizingly soulful eyes were constant reminders to Ciara of the wise old man she knew resided in the animal’s body.
“That’s his partner, Karl,” she said with pride.
“I understand a man’s need for his dog, but Six is fully capable of—”
Ciara interrupted Kujo’s objection.
“You don’t understand, but you will.” She grinned. “Karl has special skills. You’ll see.”
***
Thirty minutes later
Ichiro cringed when he heard the sound of someone coming toward him. He had his head turned toward a wall, pretending to be asleep when the curtain slid and he heard a woman’s voice.
“Take this one back to his cell while he’s still out. We need the bed and I don’t want another circus when he wakes up and starts yelling again. I could use a quiet shift.”
A second voice came from another woman.
“His cell isn’t sanitary. What about changing the bandages of his bone marrow transplant?”
“Don’t be naïve. If you want to practice proper medical procedure, be my guest, but let’s not pretend any of these kids are going home.” Without waiting for a response, the harsh one said, “Remove his IV and get him ready for transport back to his cell. Here’s an extra set of scrubs for him. Get to it. The guards will be here shortly.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
After the curtain slid closed, cold hands touched his arm to pull the heart monitor off his finger and take the IV out of his hand. It took all his willpower to stay quiet and keep his breathing steady as she lowered the bedrails. Buckles on his wrists and ankles were released to free him.
Still, he did not move.
When the nurse reached under his gurney to locate the scrubs she would dress him in, Ichiro sat bolt upright and swung his legs off the side of the mattress. His sudden motion took the girl by surprise and she gasped when their eyes met.
“What the hell—”
Ichiro thought the young woman had a nice face—until he balled his fist and hit her square in the jaw.
Chapter 9
Ichiro leaped off the gurney and knelt by the unconscious woman on the floor and whispered, “Sorry.”
He hadn’t intended to resort to violence, but when the impulse gripped him, he saw no other choice. Ichiro fought the urge to wake her and apologize, but there would be no time for good manners. Guards were on the way.
He thrust his legs into the spare blue scrubs that had been tossed to the floor and shrugged into the over-sized shirt. After he stepped over the sprawled woman, Ichiro crept toward the curtain that separated him from the next patient.
With great care, he pulled back the drape to peek inside, praying he had not imagined the voice and the blurred face of Gabriela before he lost consciousness. The moment he laid eyes on the pretty brunette asleep in the next gurney, he knew it had to be her.
“Gabriela.”
He whispered her name as if he spoke in a sacred temple or at a shrine. She didn’t move. The poor girl was naked, as he had been. She had a bandage on her belly. Ichiro couldn’t guess what procedure they had performed on her.
“Forgive me.”
He didn’t have time to be a gentleman. Without looking at her body, he got to work.
Ichiro dislodged the heart monitor from her finger and placed it on the unconscious nurse on the floor. When he caught a glimpse of the nurse’s ID badge, he swiped it and hoped she had cle
arance to get through security.
Gabriela’s IV came out next, without a fuss, but he had greater challenges ahead. With his eyes averted, Ichiro fumbled for the buckles that bound her wrists and ankles. He hated they had left her as exposed as he had been, but he did the best he could to leave her with dignity.
With her arms and legs free, he searched under the gurney, hoping he would find spare garments for her. After he grabbed a set of green scrubs, he tossed them onto the mattress next to her and slid the pants on first.
She moaned and nuzzled into his chest.
“Gabriela,” he whispered in her ear.
Her beautiful dark eyes fluttered open, but she looked groggy and unable to focus on his face. Ichiro knew it would be a struggle to take her with him, but he wasn’t leaving without her.
“Wake up. We have to go.”
He pulled on her arms and held her upright, enough for him to slip her head through the garment and pull it down her chest.
“What’s…happening?” she muttered.
Ichiro touched her lips with a finger and lowered his eyes to hers.
“It’s me, Ichiro Tanaka. We have to go now.”
Gabriela smiled, but it didn’t last long. She winced in pain when he tried to move her.
“It hurts. I can’t—”
“You have to. The guards are coming.”
It hurt him more than if he’d stabbed himself with a knife. When he flung her arm over his shoulder and picked Gabriela off the bed, he knew he would cause her pain.
“Shh. I have you. Lean on me.”
Ichiro peeked through the curtain and down the narrow aisle of the medical ward. He regretted not having enough time to free the other captives, but if he and Gabriela escaped, they could send help. That justification helped him take his first step, and another, until he got Gabriela to the first secured door.
He took a deep breath before he swiped the stolen ID badge, hoping the passkey would work and not set off alarms. When no sirens blared and the door clicked open, he let out the breath he’d been holding and peeked into the corridor. After he made sure no one would stop them, he carried Gabriela with him.
After he stepped across the threshold, he had no idea where to go and panic wedged a lump in his throat. He held a young woman’s life in his hands. She didn’t even know what he had done. Ichiro only knew he couldn’t leave without her and he prayed for mercy and good fortune.
Please don’t punish her…because of me.
He dared to shut his eyes tight to listen for anything that told him where to go, but the smell of dank humidity and the pungent stench of medicinal soap brought back the terror of the shower room. Memories flashed through his mind until one stuck.
When he heard heavy footsteps echoing down the hall outside the medical ward, Ichiro had run out of time. He made a life or death decision and hoisted Gabriela into his arms. Pain shot through his injured hip, but he couldn’t stop. Not now.
He had one shot and he prayed he would make the right choice.
Ichiro carried Gabriela and limped down the hallway until a door opened behind him. He ducked around a corner with no time to spare. Panting with a dry throat, he pressed his back to a wall to hide, careful not to expose Gabriela. Boots paced down the hall and faded. He only had seconds to make a run for his big gamble.
Don’t screw this up.
The smell of strong soap and the erratic dripping of water lured him farther into the facility, back the way he’d come. Every instinct told him he headed the wrong way, toward the cells he came from, but he had a hunch he hoped would work.
He lowered Gabriela to her feet and held her frail body against a wall while he peered through a door into the shower room.
“Come on. This is it.”
“I can’t.” She grimaced in pain and pressed a hand to her incision.
“Don’t touch it. You’re hurt.” He held her hand and fixed his eyes on hers. “This is our only chance. Let’s go.”
He shoved through the door, carrying her in his arms again. Once he stepped inside the massive shower, he set her down and knelt by her.
“I want to take you with me, to get you help. I don’t know what they did to you, but you need a doctor.”
Gabriela blinked with wide eyes and reached a hand toward his face. He held her tiny fingers in his hand and kissed her palm, knowing he had no right. Although he didn’t understand why, the affection felt natural between them.
“Stay here. Don’t fall asleep. Okay?”
After she nodded, Ichiro stroked her cheek and hobbled toward the center of the room—to the massive drain he had stood over when the men stole his dignity. He laced his fingers through the metal and yanked with all his strength. The heavy drain grate took all his effort to move it aside. He stared down into a cavernous darkness. A light glimmered on water, but he had no idea how far down or how deep the water would be.
He didn’t have time to test the drop and there would be no returning once he jumped into the manhole. He had no choice but to lower her into the water first. In Gabriela’s condition, he didn’t know if he should attempt escaping with her, but if they stayed, he knew it would cost them their lives. Ichiro scrambled back to Gabriela and raised her chin until she stared into his eyes.
“You trust me?” he asked.
Ichiro didn’t honestly know what he would do if she said ‘no.’ He waited for her answer anyway. With sleepy, beautiful eyes, she gazed at him and nodded. In that moment he wanted to kiss her, but he reached for her hand instead.
“I hope you don’t remember any of this.”
He stood and hoisted Gabriela to her feet, navigating her toward the open drain. Before she knew what he intended to do, he said, “Look into my eyes and don’t turn away. Promise me you won’t make a sound.”
“I promise.”
He grabbed both her wrists and shoved her feet through the opening in the tile floor. Ichiro eased her dangling body through the dark funnel of the drain and held her weight for as long as he could.
When he let go and she fell, Gabriela broke her promise—she screamed. The sound of her cry muffled after she hit the water with a loud splash and he winced.
“Oh, no. Why didn’t I ask her if she could swim?”
Ichiro didn’t hesitate. He scrambled into the hole and pulled the drain cover back in place. After he let loose of his grip, he hit the water and tumbled through a buoyant darkness, reaching out for Gabriela.
When his head broke the water’s surface, he gasped for air and peered through the murky shadows, calling her name.
“Gabriela. Where are you?”
The dark water glimmered from a pale light in the distance where the drainpipe bent. He thrashed in the water and craned his neck to search for her, up one pipe and down the other. When he didn’t see her, he dove under the murky water.
Without the pale light from the surface, he was blind. He flailed his arms to reach for her—unsure where to turn—and searched until his lungs burned. He came up for air, gasping and coughing. Where are you?
Gabriela was gone.
Chapter 10
South of Helena
9:00 pm
As Stetson drove, Keiko sat in the passenger seat of the Navigator and shifted her eyes between the laptop propped on her thighs and the dark road ahead. Outside Helena, the two-way road weaved through ranch country with scarce lighting. Away from the glow of the city, a brilliant crown of stars and the bluish haze of moonlight accentuated the pitch-black darkness in the mountains.
“Slow down. It looks like there’s a turn off ahead,” she said. “Isn’t this Mayor Welch’s ranch?”
“This section of road does look familiar, but ranches this size don’t always brag about it with a sign.” Stetson pointed to the right. “Is that it?”
Keiko gazed down at the screen’s GPS tracker and said, “Yeah, take it. And kill the headlights. Once we go off asphalt, we don’t need to advertise.”
He turned off his headlights as
he made his turn onto a dirt road. The vehicle jostled over deep ruts, making it hard for Stetson to hang on to the steering wheel. It took both hands to stay in control.
“Holy shit. This is going to be rough in the dark. Hang on, darlin.’”
“This has got to be it. There’s no other road to get us close. Keep going.”
With the narrow trail being the only choice to locate Scott Welch’s F150 truck, Keiko put her hand on the dashboard to steady the ride and shifted her focus to the treacherous ruts. She peered through the dark and searched for the lights of the truck Stetson had tagged with GPS.
A slither of doubt crawled down her spine when she imagined Welch to be smarter than he looked. What if he found the tracker Stetson had planted? He could’ve staged this isolation as a trap. Without saying anything to her partner, Keiko slipped her hand under her jacket and pulled out her Beretta 92FS.
When she glanced at Stetson, she smiled. He must’ve had the same suspicion. He held his Desert Eagle .50 caliber handgun in his lap.
“Doesn’t hurt to be judicious,” he said without taking his eyes off the rough terrain. “Give Mercer a call to update him on our play and give him our coordinates.”
Keiko reached Mercer and kept her voice low as she updated him, but when she spotted lights ahead, she ended the call.
“I see something. Pull over. We walk from here.”
Stetson pulled into a copse of trees to hide the black Navigator as much as he could. Keiko turned off the interior lights before they opened the doors and geared up from the cargo hold. Armed with more weapons, ammunition, and night vision gear, Keiko and Stetson didn’t speak to each other. They were connected by experience and knew what the other would do in a fight.
Keiko hoisted a rucksack onto her back and followed Stetson in the dark. She had no idea if she would find Ichiro Tanaka in the mountains outside of Helena, but with the thrill of the chase coursing through her blood, she couldn’t wait to find out.
***