by Rafael
“Sounds to me like Exception #2 is in order.” His enigmatic chuckle rose above the restaurant’s clink and tinkle.
“You are a force of nature, Miranda Logan.” He sat back in the chair. A smile played around his lips. “I am a…facilitator. Hunting tigers has given me a certain notoriety and brought me in contact with a great many people. I connect those who want something to those who can provide it.”
“Sounds illegal.”
“It can be. But legality has never been a factor in my decision to do or not do something.” Miranda returned to the menu. She knew even less about the man she sat with than ten seconds ago. Now what? Did she really want to know more? Instinct told her not to probe deeper. For the moment he’d gone as far as he would. She looked up to find him watching. His eyes gleamed with amusement.
“Okay, I’m ready. If I don’t eat my tummy will begin talking for me. I’ll have the chaat to start and the tandoori shrimp with mustard seeds and coconut milk. You can order. I feel empowered when a man orders for me.” Janesh raised an eyebrow.
“Do you have any objection to an Italian red?”
“Not at all. Why not French?”
“I noticed the wine list includes a favorite of mine: Mocali Brunello di Montalcino. It works nicely even with seafood. And two, the Italians were making red wine when the French were running around in the woods.” Miranda laughed.
“Okay, Mr. McKenzie. Italian it is.” With no apparent signal, the waiter appeared. Janesh ordered in Hindi.
“Forgive me for not speaking English. As your introduction to fine Indian cuisine, I wanted to leave no room for error.” The waitress returned to present Janesh the red. He nodded. She uncorked and served him a glass. Her eyelashes batted with unspoken invitations. With all the seriousness she’d seen in the forest, he lifted the glass and tasted. Miranda thought the girl would swoon when he said, “Perfect.” She gave the waitress her brightest smile when she poured her glass.
Miranda sipped and sat back in the soft seat. Spreading warmth suffused her. She rested her forelimbs on the chair’s armrests, crossed her legs. Janesh looked at her. She squeezed her thighs. “So, Miranda. Tell me about this creature of yours.”
She strained to rise from a languid torpor, reluctant to reengage a distant reality. “Right. The reason we’re here.” From her bag a banded sheaf of papers and photos emerged. She again marveled at Janesh’s tunneled focus that walled off his surroundings. He nodded and sat back as the waiter arrived with their orders, deftly arranged the settings, refilled their glasses and left before his presence intruded.
“Janesh?”
“Forgive me.” He sat up and lifted a glass. “To a marvelous evening and to a woman, who I fear, will cause me many exceptions.” Miranda smiled.
“How many do I have?”
“Not sure. I’m in unchartered waters. Never reached two before.”
For a few minutes only their silverware made noise. Janesh paused. “Your expression defines besotted.”
“Don’t interrupt. I’m communing with the divine. These shrimp are sinful.”
“That DNA report is interesting to say the least.”
“Okay. You talk, I’ll eat.”
“The possibility three machines separated geographically made the same error is not worth considering. The DNA is central to this case.” Janesh stopped and stared. Realization dawned. “That’s why Professor Akiyama sent you. He understood the DNA report is telling us the truth. But it offers no understanding without its source. He wants me to find it.”
Janesh returned to his plate. Both ate with gusto as the sumptuous meal began to disappear beneath stabbing forks and slicing knives. “Would you agree, because of all the unknowns, the CIA agents Cross and Dawkins may not be telling us everything?” Miranda nodded as she dipped a juicy shrimp in coconut milk and dabbed a little chutney. Her eyes rolled at the flavors swirling across her tongue. Amused, Janesh continued.
“Until we know who’s who and what’s what, we might be wise to hold our own counsel.” Miranda spotted a plump chaat that had somehow managed to escape her fork. Its freedom proved short-lived. Janesh kept an even tone. “I’m not interrupting your pursuit of a psychopath am I?”
She drained the wine glass without smacking her lips and extended it toward him for a refill. A bright smile accompanied a sweet, “No.” She noted his frown. Her shoulders slumped. “Janesh. You haven’t said a thing I don’t agree with.” Her smile broadened again. “Besides. Anyone who can feed me like this has my complete confidence.”
“Did you and Chatur go to the same charm school?” She laughed, took another sip, put down her knife and fork, and dabbed her lips. A languorous pose against the chair followed. “Wow. I can’t remember the last time feeling so full felt so good.” Smoky, half-lidded eyes turned toward her host. A throaty voice rolled out. “Thank you.” Janesh leaned back in his seat.
“We’ll have to do it again.”
“We must.” Their eyes locked. The air crackled. He brushed a curl from his forehead. She squeezed her thighs.
“Miranda Logan. You truly are a force of nature.”
“You have no idea.”
Chatur’s arrival prevented a public spectacle. “My dearest Miranda. Despite the ordeal did you enjoy the food?”
“I can now go to heaven. Thank you, Chatur.” She gave Janesh a side-long glance. “Despite the ordeal.” Chatur looked up and gave a wave. The waitress arrived with a dessert cart.
“I have a piece that until I laid eyes on you, befitted only a queen.” Miranda’s eagerness made her face shine. Janesh rolled his eyes.
“What is it?”
“A Basil Chocolate cake in white chocolate sauce with a scoop of pure vanilla ice cream.” Miranda squirmed in her seat.
“Oh my God. I can taste it already.” Chatur turned to Janesh.
“Do not concern yourself with the expense. I present it as a gift.” He turned back to Miranda. “In fact, to spare you any embarrassment at my friend’s lack of financial depth, accept this meal as a token of my esteem.” Janesh shook his head.
“I will long regret introducing you two.” Chatur, head turned from Janesh, winked at Miranda.
“Be grateful, Janesh. It is a high point that saves you from an otherwise undistinguished life.”
Chatur departed after pouring them fresh Brazilian coffee. Miranda moaned her way through the cake then sat quietly, sipping the hot brew. Janesh laid his cup down. “I booked myself on your return flight. It is the day after tomorrow, right?” Miranda nodded absently. Janesh gave her a curious look and grinned. “What’s the matter? Caffeine bring you down?”
“I’ve had a most wonderful evening. I can’t remember the last time I felt so good, so contented, so at peace. I want it to last.”
“It will.”
Miranda stared at him.
CHAPTER 10 Upper Reaches
Twelve-foot, floor-to-ceiling windows stretched across a wall eighty-one stories above the street. Arms folded, Nicholas Koh gazed across Singapore’s blue harbor. Somewhere on the water filled with the world’s ships a fog horn must have blared but it couldn’t penetrate the soundproof glass. “Let it go, Nicholas. It’s long past time you ended any involvement with that side of the business. You’ve got too much to lose. It’s not worth it.”
Koh twisted his trunk just enough to look over his shoulder and eye the speaker, one of two lawyers sitting in his office. Their perfectly tailored suits, perfectly manicured fingers, perfectly coiffed hair, perfectly reflected the seven-figure salaries “that side” of the business had made possible. They looked like high-powered corporate attorneys but he had no doubt shaving cuts might cause them to faint.
Nicholas returned to the view. Far below, ants scurried throughout maze-like pathways. So had he once. Everyday had been a hard-scrabble struggle to find the exit from a future that promised only the same. His escape had begun with stolen vehicles provided for heists and robberies, trucks to move filched goods, boats
for fast getaways. He’d never asked questions only cash in advance. The work had introduced him to hard men who permitted no mistakes and allowed no weakness. Now he centered a transportation empire that spread web-like across the globe.
Somewhere in it, probably in this building, a spy, a mole, a rat had penetrated his security. That breach had killed Wei Xuan Chan and Feng Tan his most trusted confidantes. He had no idea what had happened and no bodies to return to their families. An insult he would not forgive. Either a competitor or an enemy had intercepted the communiqués of a discovery that would revolutionize transportation. The world’s power centers would beat a path to his door. He’d control the gateway to the stars.
For the moment it remained safe in Tacoma, Washington. The equipment needed to be here but he wouldn’t move it until discovering who else knew of it. When he did, they’d learn he hadn’t forgotten the lessons that gave rise to Nicholas Koh.
He returned to his desk. The lawyers knew nothing. His tone held no irony. “You’re right. I have too much to lose. Please continue your efforts to repatriate my fallen comrades.” The two rose in unison and exited. Nicholas retrieved his communicator, began pressing buttons connecting to “that side”.
CHAPTER 11 Bear Witness
Larry Chen drew a slow puff from the cigarette between his middle and ring fingers. A slower exhale formed a cloud around his head. Narrowed eyes stared at the ID. He wondered what the hell the CIA wanted. A hand wave motioned for the agents to sit. “How do I know that ID isn’t fake? I’ve never seen one.” Cross returned it inside his jacket.
“Believe me, Mr. Chen. It’s as real as we are.”
“I’m not stupid and I’m not illegal. You have no domestic jurisdiction and I don’t have to answer your questions. You’re not allowed to operate on American soil. Last I heard Hawaii is America.” Dawkins’ tone took on a hard edge.
“It’s only one question, Mr. Chen. You’ll never hear from us or anyone else again. But if you don’t answer it, we’ll be back in an hour with the FBI. I assure you. They’ll have a lot of questions.
Chen leaned away from his desk. Legitimate business accounted for 40% of L&C Movers’ revenue. It paid the bills. His underworld links made up the other 60%. It made him wealthy. He had to be careful. It could also make him dead. “What’s your question?”
“About five weeks ago, June 11th to be exact, your company arrived at the home of a Dr. Joshua Ang to remove scientific equipment. Where did you take it, Mr. Chen?” Larry made to protest. Cross cut him off.
“Don’t try to deny it, Chen. It took us a while. We had to get court orders for the telephone calls made through the neighboring towers. Then we had to sift through a ton of data. The order came to your office. Another call from your office confirmed the dispatch. Where did you take the equipment, Chen? Give us an address and like my partner said, you’ll never hear from us again.”
Larry drew a slower, deeper puff. Somehow a job no different than a thousand others, had put his balls in a vise. He leaned forward to poke a finger at them. “I remember this job because the people behind it are big, real big. If you’re sniffing around their operations you’re going to find your noses cut off.” He leaned over to tap on a computer screen. Moments later printer rollers whirred. “It’s a warehouse in Tacoma, Washington.” Chen extended a printout across the desk. When Cross reached for it, he didn’t let go.
“By the way. Security cameras captured your arrival. If you try any funny business with me, I’ll send your pictures to them. I guarantee you when your next birthdays roll around, no one will know where you’re buried.” Cross rose and leaned across the desk.
“Wherever it is, it’ll be right next to whatever goons you send after us.” Larry stared at the door when it closed. A minute made up his mind. He couldn’t take the chance. Even in a jail cell he’d be a sitting duck. Chen lifted the hand set and punched in an internal number.
“Yeah, boss.”
“A man and woman just left my office. Put a tail on them they can’t shake. If they get on a flight, I want to know its destination and arrival time. Without waiting for a response, he hung up and pressed “priority call” on his mobile. A smile grew at the thought another twenty grand had just dropped on his lap.
“Hello, Chen. What can I do for you?”
“I just got a visit from two CIA agents. They were asking questions about the Tacoma shipment.”
“CIA? What the hell?”
“Yeah. That was my reaction too. Maybe you need to move that equipment. I can have trucks there within the hour. I’m sending you their pictures and let you know when they board a flight.”
“Do that. Good work, Chen.”
* * *
On a quiet side street behind a warehouse on Tacoma’s Commencement Bay, Cross listened to a guitar’s moans as a blues song wept from the radio. Beside him Dawkins dozed in the rental they’d driven the fifteen miles from Seattle-Tacoma Aerospace Center. Like their police cousins, espionage had its dull, boring, tedious moments. Lots of them. It made breakthroughs possible. Headquarters had them in intelligence-gathering mode, wanting to know who came and went from the building they suspected held Dr. Ang’s equipment.
Cross yawned. Right now no one, he thought. The vehicle’s navigator displayed 2:32am, Sunday morning. Four more hours until the next shift relieved them. Nothing moved and the sprawling port facility lay dormant. A huge freighter moored to the loading dock on the building’s other side, floated rock still despite the harbor’s incoming tide. Dawkins stirred. A brief snore gave way to a deeper snooze. Out on the water, a distant fog horn blared. Another yawn welled. Cross folded his arms and scrunched deeper into the seat. The navigator clicked. 2:33am.
From down the road two armed security guards turned onto East D Street. They checked fence locks and shone flashlights into windows. Their shift must have started, Cross thought. Neither matched an earlier patrol that happened by. As they neared, the two stared through the windshield and separated to approach the car on either side. He powered his window open. A guard leaned down. Cross’ brow furrowed. Air filters plugged the man’s nostrils, gave his voice a nasal tone. “ID, please. Everything alright?” Dawkins’ eyes opened. A small pellet sailed into the car, exploded before landing. Gas filled the enclosed space. Both agents blacked out.
* * *
Annoyance crept over Cross as he wakened before the alarm sounded. A thick tongue tried to wash the bitter, acidic taste rotting his mouth. Sluggish synapses refused to fire. He tried to roll over and return to the deep slumber he’d emerged from. His arms and legs wouldn’t move. A heavy thud carried to his ears followed by a groan from a familiar voice. His eyes fluttered open. A bright, overhead light made them blink and tear. His head twisted left and right. He lay naked, spread-eagled on a concrete floor. Ropes lashed his limbs to embedded eye-bolts. His eyes focused on a nude Dawkins just as a huge Asian landed a blow to her stomach. Cuts and bruises marked her upper body. He barely recognized the bloodied face with cracked lips and one eye swollen shut. She sank to her knees and heaved clear bile and thick blood.
The giant pulled her up by the hair, slammed her over a horizontal drum barrel, then dropped his pants to penetrate her. Only his brutal, vicious thrusts made her move. Barely conscious, she didn’t struggle. Three other sumo-size men watched. Cross twisted his head upward. Behind him two smaller thugs leered in anticipation. He yanked and strained to free himself, found his voice and screamed. “Don’t touch her you animal.”
One goon stepped from behind to face him. “Good morning, Agent Cross.” He reared back and slapped him so hard the air vibrated. Blows rained down from every direction. The floor had no give as his head smashed against it again and again. His ribs made audible cracks under the relentless punishment. Pain, without end or beginning, suffused his body and made him gasp. His tormentor leaned down. “Why are you here?”
Cross glanced toward Dawkins. Another sumo took his turn, her broken, inert body unable to resist. Real
ization grew. The end had come. He wondered if his family would have anything to grieve over. All he had left was to give them nothing. Cross turned back with a blood-stained smile gapped by missing teeth. He managed only a wheeze. The thug leaned closer. “What?” Iron-will sprayed the face with spittle, blood, and dentine. He wiped his face. A murderous rage fired his eyes. Cross’ expression stopped him cold. He turned his head to see why.
A shimmering circle dissolved the warehouse wall. A huge, feathered creature emerged from its center. Black, dead eyes stared from a rounded head. Folded wings with black-skinned, fisted hands enveloped its torso. A long, sharp, black beak opened and hissed. For a moment, stunned silence quieted the building.
Six automatics unleashed a fusillade that ended with clicks echoing across the cavernous warehouse. Shock grew at the realization every shot had passed through the monstrosity. It opened its beak and hissed again. Without warning an identical creature popped out of thin air alongside the four sumos. A clear liquid streamed from its mouth then another. Two sumos fell, their heads covered with a goo that quickly solidified like facial masks. Cross watched as they flopped and writhed in the throes of suffocation. They tried to rip the substance off and their hands stuck. The second creature disappeared.
Without moving its legs, the first creature shifted closer to the two remaining sumos. Like linebackers closing on a runner, they charged. Both passed through the bird and smashed into the wall. The second monster reappeared, wings flapping above the dazed sumos. Its clawed feet ripped one open then latched onto the other’s shoulders. Ungodly screams echoed and re-echoed as it lifted him ten, fifteen, twenty feet. Bones crunched and the man fell, his arms still dangling from the thing’s feet. His torn shoulders left twin blood streams in their wake. Body and arms thudded to the ground. The fiend disappeared.