The Shadow's Code

by Miles Goodson

  Kioshi sat in the leather driver’s seat of his rented Mercedes. The dim streetlight seeped in through the windows. His bushy grey and black hair reflected the light. He stared at a picture of Lindon on his tablet computer, running his fingers through his bristly facial hair. His eyes narrowed. He finally had the man he needed in his crosshairs. Now he needed to kill him.

  Kioshi was a patient man. His father had taught him everything he knew. He was an expert in three martial arts and knew how to kill a person in less than ten seconds with his bare hands. He wore simple clothes. Not a single item cost over $20. Kioshi had light wrinkles across his forehead and his thin lips. He had decided to leapfrog to the final man on his list since Warren was under such heavy guard. Kioshi felt as though the Americans may start to suspect him but for now his only concern was killing one man.

  Kioshi had been told everything about the nuclear bomb in the Emperor’s garden. The main focus was for him to get hold of a deactivation code or destroy the codes entirely. Kisohi had followed many different stories and myths about the secret codes of American security. Over time he had learnt that the Americans’ nuclear weapons hadn’t stopped with Japan and an even bigger national secret was being kept behind a project known as Parasite. He didn’t know much about the project and didn’t really care. His focus was the same as it had been for many years. To send the weapon back to where it came from with a bang. Kioshi had an underground team in Japan. They had worked for years trying to get information. They hacked government databases and searched personnel files. In total they had hacked into the CIA personnel databases over thirty times. They had given Kioshi the first lead when they uncovered the name of a professor.

  The professor was the first domino to fall but he hadn’t given up much information before Kioshi killed him. Kioshi had given in to his rush of adrenaline and not been patient enough. He had punished himself by cutting off part of his little finger to serve as a reminder. He was meant to choke the professor but release him before he suffocated. Instead he had wrapped a garrote around his neck and squeezed until the professor’s face was starved of blood and oxygen. When he died, so did Kioshi’s chance of information. Although Kioshi had an even greater asset. An American he had known for many years was able to feed him information from the inside. This kept Kioshi one step ahead and had confirmed for him that Lindon was in London. He was now on the trail of his greatest target. Once Lindon was dead Kioshi knew the American government could do nothing to stop him. His final target was now coming into sight. After this he could do what his father had failed to achieve. Revenge. Even though he knew that he would die exacting the revenge he was excited. He would die for the justice of Japan like a true Kamikaze soldier.

  Chapter 19

  Patricia Svenonsson left the grocery store just after 7pm. She had picked up a few things on her way to visit her youngest son, Tom. He had told her to come over for dinner. In the back of Patricia’s mind she hoped that an announcement would be made and a grandchild would be on the way but she wasn’t holding her breath. But Patricia had other things on her mind. She was beginning to feel that someone was following her.

  A delivery van had been everywhere she went. It looked especially out of place parked in the grocery store’s car park within view of her Mustang. The paranoia had become a bit too much in the past few days. Everywhere she turned the same van with the same license plate appeared. She hoped Tom would calm her nerves. He always had a rational explanation for everything. Her son Ben shot to the front of her mind. If she could see him just for ten minutes she would be much happier.

  Patricia arrived on the street where her son Tom and wife Carla lived at 7.35pm, which was twenty-five minutes earlier than they had agreed. Patricia decided to drive around the block a few times. The local Ford dealer had replaced the suspension top mount under warranty a few days ago and this was an opportune time to make sure it had quelled the undue noise she had reported to them. The drive would also give her a chance to see if a delivery van appeared anywhere. Patricia stepped on the gas and held her foot to the floor. 50mph… 60… 70, she hit the brakes hard and tugged the steering wheel right. No noise and no sign of the delivery van. Patricia was relieved. She looked at herself in the sun visor mirror and plumped her hair up.

  Two minutes later she crawled across a rutted and potholed street to get back to her son’s neighborhood. Patricia hit the brakes hard and stopped in the middle of the road. Dust and dirt were flung off the tarmac by her sudden stop. One hundred feet in front of her was the delivery van. It was parked on a corner. The man behind the wheel was wearing a suit, blazer and dark tie. Strange for a deliveryman. Most of them wore shorts and t-shirts until the temperature dropped to freezing. Patricia stepped on the gas and raced to her son’s house. She parked on the drive at 7.55pm. When she got out of the car and looked up and down the street there was no delivery van.

  Patricia was parked behind her son’s 2007 Mazda 6 MPS. It was black and very shiny without a speck of dirt on it. Tom was out on the driveway every Saturday morning, cleaning his pride and joy. He was also a car enthusiast and had been looking for a newer and faster car but after recently getting a mortgage and acquiring the bills of home ownership a new car wouldn’t be on the horizon any time soon. The front door swung open before Patricia knocked. Tom rushed out to grab the bag of groceries from his mother.

  “Mom, I said don’t bring anything.” He tried to sound annoyed.

  “And I told you that it will be a cold day in hell before I visit one of my sons without bringing supplies.” The bag contained razors, hair gel, ear buds and several fresh cut steaks. Carla was waiting by the door with a beaming smile and open arms.

  “You know Carla remembers these things as well,” Tom said. It was a flat out lie. Carla was useless at getting him razors and always bringing home the wrong brand.

  “Patricia, how are you?” Carla said sweetly.

  “Fine, dear, how’s the new job, Tom said they are thinking of giving you a promotion?”

  Carla smiled and replied, “Yes, but nothing’s confirmed yet.”

  The three walked inside and made small talk about work, the house, the mortgage and the new Mustang. Every topic was covered until Carla announced dinner would be served in a few minutes. Patricia and Tom walked to the dining room together and sat at the table. The room was bland and minimalist but the table gave the room character as Carla’s grandmother had given it to them. Patricia took the chance to have a quick one to one talk with Tom.

  “Son, please don’t think I’m crazy but I think someone is following me,” she said.

  “Really, what makes you think that?” he asked.

  “Well… it’s just everywhere I go there is the same van. A delivery van with men that look nothing like regular delivery guys.” Patricia expected Tom to give her a reassuring talk about how business for online shopping is booming and a lot of people do online shopping for everything from electronics to groceries these days, but he didn’t.

  “Y’know mom, I actually wanted to speak to you about this. I think I’m being followed as well. Carla thinks I’m crazy but wherever I go there is a UPS delivery van with the same license plate. The other day it was outside my work for six hours.” Patricia felt relieved and concerned at the same time. She wasn’t going crazy but this meant that someone really was following her.

  “Did you notice the driver?” Patricia whispered while placing both her hands on the table. She was wearing three rings. Her wedding ring, her engagement ring and a sapphire pearl placed atop white gold on her right index finger; they glistened against the LED ceiling lights.

  “I think he was wearing a suit but I never get close enough to get a good look. Do you think it’s something to do with Ben?” Tom was now also whispering.

  “I don’t know, maybe… I heard from him a few weeks ago. He said he’s still overseas but not to worry.”

  “Look, don’t worry about them, mom, remember we had the same thing a couple of years ago when Ben
didn’t file his tax returns. I know the IRS can use all types of tactics. He’s probably missed it again and they want to track him down or something. He must be earning quite a lot for them to be this interested in him, though. Did he say whether he was still working for the military?” Tom asked. Patricia sighed.

  “He doesn’t really tell me anything in detail these days. Just that he’s on a special operation and so he can’t contact us much. I’m scared for him. What about if he never comes home?” Patricia’s face faded and she looked as though she could cry.

  “Mom, don’t worry. It’s Ben. He’s like Superman. He will come home. I know it. But do me a favor and don’t mention all this to Carla. I don’t want her to worry. You know what she’s like”. Patricia nodded as Carla walked through the door holding a hot porcelain tray with steam rising from the top.

  “I hope you’re hungry,” she said with a smile.

  The food was fantastic but Patricia couldn’t take her mind off Ben. She stared at her dessert and told herself to enjoy her time with Tom and Carla or she would regret it when she got home. Ten minutes later Patricia sat and Carla and Tom made a toast and a big announcement. It was early stages but there was going to be an addition to the family. Carla was two months pregnant. Patricia was elated, big hugs and kisses followed. She was sworn to secrecy until the ninetieth day of pregnancy had passed. Patricia insisted on being there for the next scan. Carla said she would be happy to have her there. Patricia swore she would somehow keep her excitement to herself. Tom told her that if it was a boy they had already agreed to name it after Dad. Patricia couldn’t hold back her tears; her husband would have been so happy. Dinner conversation drifted to baby strollers and clothes. Patricia would visit Dad’s grave tomorrow and tell him the good news. It was an emotional moment for all three of them. The evening was a much needed moment of calm and celebration after a week of worry.

  In the morning Patricia received a call from Tom.

  “Mom, I can see the UPS van outside my office window. It hasn’t moved in thirty minutes. A meter maid just walked over and the driver seemed to flash a badge and the meter maid walked away.” Patricia quickly walked to her kitchen window and pulled the blinds up to see if a delivery van was near her house.

  “Do you think they could be the IRS?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. It may be someone else, but it’s definitely government. What shall we do?” Tom asked.

  “Nothing for now, son. I always think better when I’m at Dad’s grave. I’ll call again later,” Patricia said, putting on her shoes.

  “OK mom, but make it before I leave the office. I don’t want Carla finding out about this so call the office line.”

  “OK son.” Tom hung up. He noticed that a few minutes later the van drove away. Patricia didn’t notice a single delivery van during the day; it was the first time in a week she hadn’t seen one. It was as if they had found out they had been spotted.

  Bill walked along a corridor in the White House with James and Roger. Warren was being kept locked in a guest room. James and Bill had shared a room in the East Wing, which was much to James’s annoyance when he found out that Bill snored louder than an elephant. It was nearing the end of the day and they had no new information. James had been on his cell phone for two minutes and had stopped walking and hung up his call.

  “We’ve had to back off following the mom and the brother, the boys listening on the phone lines heard them talking about being followed,” he said to Bill.

  “I wouldn’t worry about it, there’s not much they can tell us now. We know Lindon is either in London or on his way there. If your job goes to plan then we will have Lindon in a few days time anyway,” Roger said. Bill stayed silent.

  “Yeah well…nothing useful has come from their surveillance anyway,” James said as he looked back at his phone screen.

  Bill chirped, “Didn’t think they would find much.” No one replied. All three men walked into Roger’s office where two of his underlings were waiting for them. A brief was on Roger’s desk, which had a marble top and three laptops on it. Roger skimmed over the brief. Bill noticed the sunlight was fading through Roger’s office window, which was so clean it could have been used as a mirror.

  “Hmm, so I wanted to do some digging into the background of Kioshi Kamitoze,” he said. The file was effectively a rewritten version of the brief that James had already supplied. Roger flicked the button on his intercom and ordered himself a coffee.

  Roger’s coffee arrived two minutes later. He had neglected to ask Bill and James if they would like one and so they asked the secretary for one whilst staring at Roger who didn’t raise his head once. All the men sat quietly for a moment, Roger continued to scan the file on Kioshi.

  “Do you think he’s still here?” Roger asked openly as he sipped his steaming hot coffee. Bill was quick to answer.

  “If I were him, I would go after Lindon. Warren may seem to be next in line, but he’s holed up in the most secure building in the world. No one is getting to him in a guest room of the White House.”

  “You think he would know where Lindon is? I mean we don’t even know where he actually is, and we have some of the most sophisticated software, hardware and staff in the world,” Roger asked. James looked at Bill as the secretary walked back in with two coffees. Roger loosened his blue and red tie as if he was making himself at home.

  “Well this guy’s been one step ahead of us for a while. Who knows? He could be in London right now. I mean, all he would need to do is get into the files of the company that has hired Lindon for his mystery job in London and he would have everything. Address, times, everything. To be honest I don’t know why we didn’t do that. Strike when he least expects it,” Roger said with an air of arrogance as if he had a better plan but was going along with James’s idea, waiting for it to fail.

  “We didn’t do that because: A. It would mean going to a foreign country with no cover to hide behind so if we got found out the CIA would have to answer to Congress as to why we walked around London without authorization. B. It would create a political shit storm and C. If we try and surprise Lindon in an uncontrolled environment we risk him getting away or worse being killed,” James answered, feeling like a chess master checkmating every move Roger played.

  “OK, I’m seeing the president in fifteen minutes. Can you gentlemen fetch Warren and come back so we can all sit in the meeting? The president will want Warren to be there.”

  Roger was keen to get fifteen minutes alone. James thought about Roger’s plan on the walk to Warren’s room. It was so well thought out. He wondered if Roger was smarter than he looked.

  Chapter 20

  Jim walked into Carl’s bar to settle his tab; the bartender raised his eyebrows and laughed for a second when he looked at the bill. Jim stared at him with little emotion. This bill was for $1894.80. The highest bar tab Jim had ever had. Jim continued to stare forward through his glazed eyes, which were housed behind puffy skin. He handed over his credit card and ordered two shots of whiskey. Jim was the hero of Dino Logging. Gold 714 had just paid the first half of their fee that morning. A double Christmas bonus had been announced just after lunch. Kirt had taken the afternoon off and went straight to the BMW dealer. Grinning all the way.

  Jim couldn’t stand the excitement of the office. His conscience weighed on him as if he was carrying a dead body across his shoulders. If Dino didn’t take the job then someone else would. To Jim they were just middlemen but turning your back on one of your own was an entirely different concept to him. It was a slippery slope of mistrust. The first time the organization had decided that the safety and security of their own men was not as important as the paycheck. The justification came from every voice in the office, although Kirt’s was the loudest. All Jim had heard for the past day was, “He’s not one of our own, he’s a freelance.” Jim thought that was a pathetic excuse. To him it didn’t matter whether they were freelance or directly employed by Dino. They were his men and he was accountabl
e for them.

  Jim held a glass of whiskey in his hand and tilted it from one side to the other. The smooth bronze liquid slushed then settled. He had called all the men from the previous mission, except Lindon, to confirm times and locations for the mission ahead. He still wasn’t sure why the client had been so insistent on using the same men; frankly he didn’t really care. Seth had told him this would be his last job for a while. He would be taking a break after the job and considering leaving the trade altogether to start his own small business selling hiking equipment. Liam had been much more direct, he had enough saved to now open his own powerlifting gym and never wanted to hear form Dino again once this job was done. Liam felt that if they were willing to turn on a freelance they would be willing turn on their own soon enough. Jim said that would never happen, but even he was questioning Dino’s ethics these days. Liam didn’t care what Jim had to say. As far as he was concerned Dino Logging Brothers Co were part of his past, not his future. Anthony was the only one who was not fazed by the job. He was also the oldest and most experienced. To him this was just another mission. There was a target. There was a mission brief and at the end of it there was a paycheck. He didn’t want to think about it any more than that.

  By 2.30pm, Jim didn’t plan on returning to the office that. He just wanted to sit at the bar, rack up drinks on his fresh bar tab, and leave when he could barely remember his name. Thirty minutes and two glasses of rum later Carl sat next to him. He ordered a beer from his bartender and made small talk. The bartender slipped a coaster under a beer for Carl and went back to cleaning glasses at the other end of the bar. The conversation drifted to more personal and sensitive matters after a few sips. Carl suggested they sit over in one of the private booths in the corner. Jim agreed and both men walked across the freshly buffed black floor, which reflected like a mirror. Jim carried a bottle of rum over with him and placed it in the center of the table. Carl took a long swig of his beer then rubbed his lips with his fingers.