Project Gemini (Mission 2

by Jill Williamson

  “Weird play, huh?” Grace said. “That kabuki thing?”

  “Yee-ah.” The crickets rang out around us, mocking the fact that I couldn’t think of a thing to say to Grace that was halfway interesting.

  I looked at her flawless, tan skin. No bruises. I thought back to that first day in class when she’d said she’d been in a fight. It had never occurred to me that the fight might have been with a family member or some jerk wad ex-boyfriend like Bushi. I didn’t like all this pretty-girls-getting-beat-up stuff that was going on with Keiko and Grace. Life had been so much easier when I’d assumed everyone lived in descent homes.

  “You’ve been good here, huh?” I said. “Except for bugging me all the time. No fights.”

  Grace tensed beside me. “I bug you?”

  “Puh-lease. I know you do it on purpose, I just don’t know why. So who’s this person you fight with back in Cali?”

  She shrugged but didn’t answer.

  I shouldn’t bother. I mean, what had Grace ever done for me that I should go out on a limb to connect with her? That’s right: nothing. Zippo. Nada. Still, I said, “Is it someone you’re close with? A friend or someone in your family?”

  She sucked in a sharp breath, held it, then burst into laughter.

  My eyebrows furrowed, confused with her response to such a personal question. “What?”

  “You’re so stupid. You think you know me? You think you can figure out my life so you can trick me into hooking up with you? It ain’t gonna happen, Spencer. I’m not the dumb blonde you think I am, okay?”

  I shrank back slightly, looking down on her. Her pupils had dilated and she was blinking like there was something in her eyes. She shoved my stomach with both hands. I barely swayed and just stood there, shocked, waiting to see what she’d do next.

  She continued to glare for a second or two, then turned and stomped after Jun and Kozue.

  All righty then. So much for the whole “love your neighbor” thing. Last time I try reaching out to that girl. But it hadn’t been a total waste. Agent Grace Thomas had totally exhibited the symptoms of being a big fat liar, which meant that someone in her life was messed up.

  I kept my distance from Grace the rest of the walk. We were like a caravan in the desert. Jun and Kozue led the way, stopping every three yards to give mouth-to-mouth to each other. Then came Grace, arms folded, scowling. And finally me, strolling along by myself.

  I was so relieved when I recognized the concrete walls of Kozue’s street. She and Jun turned up the stairs at the Kimura mansion. A few seconds later, I heard the gate clang on the other side of the wall. Grace stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned back, not looking at me, thank goodness, but staring blankly out across the street. I reached her in time to catch her major sigh.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  She rolled her eyes. “Jun and Kozue. They’re up on the porch. And I’m sick of standing there like an idiot while they make out. She never opens the door for me. And I don’t have a key.”

  “Ask her to open the door.”

  “It’s rude to interrupt.”

  “They’re being rude, so you might as well too.”

  “If that’s your philosophy on life, it explains a lot.”

  I didn’t respond. A sudden chill came over me in the muggy heat. I folded my arms and drew into myself for warmth, wondering how long I was going to have to wait for Jun to say goodbye to his girl. Maybe I should have stayed at the kabuki house and tried on a kimono. At the rate we were moving, I was beginning to think that Gabe and Wally would beat me to Jun’s place.

  Grace gasped, staring over my shoulder, her eyes bulging like she’d swallowed a mosquito. I turned around. Three guys dressed in black were walking toward us. And despite the dark night, all three were wearing black sunglasses.

  It was Mary’s vision, come to life.

  REPORT NUMBER: 19

  REPORT TITLE: I Take on Three Karate Experts and Lose

  SUBMITTED BY: Agent-in-Training Spencer Garmond

  LOCATION: The Kimura’s house, 1021-3 Tomishiro-aza, Naha, Okinawa, Japan

  DATE AND TIME: Saturday, July 4, 9:37 p.m.

  MOTHER PUS BUCKET!

  Without looking away from the guys, I flailed my hands at

  Grace, pushing her toward the steps. “Go, go, go.”

  “What are you doing?” She elbowed my side. “Get your hands off me.”

  “I’ve got a bad feeling.” This was it. The vision Mary had warned me about. I could still avoid it, though. I pushed Grace up the first step, my heart pounding. “Go! Now! Hurry!”

  She pushed back. “Stop touching me! I told you to—”

  “Just until they pass, Grace, please!” I grabbed her waist

  and carried her up two steps.

  She screamed like I was attacking her, kneed me in the thigh—missing where I know she’d been aiming for. So I dropped her and made to throw her over my shoulder, but she slipped past me and ran back down the stairs.

  She stopped on the bottom step and glared at me like I was some kind of demon dog. “I told you I don’t want to go up there!” She folded her arms and leaned against the inside wall.

  I was trembling with anger at Grace and … honestly, I was terrified. But Jun must have heard Grace scream, right? I looked between the black iron bars of the gate, but the walkway twisted out of sight and I couldn’t see the front door, just sculpted hedges and flowers.

  “Jun?” I yelled.

  No answer. Mr. Sloan had to be out there in his fancy black car, right? Ready to sweep in and save my hide?

  I could do nothing but stare out the opening the stairs cut in the concrete, watching the street, knowing they were coming, hoping Mr. Sloan was watching.

  The men appeared, passed by the opening, their backs to me now. And then they were gone. They’d walked right by. It was going to be fine. Just a coincidence. I released a pent-up breath and relaxed, rubbed my face.

  Grace screamed. I looked up in time to see some guy drag her to the street. I ran down the steps, reached the sidewalk, and someone seized the neck of my shirt, flung me backwards. I stumbled to a stop in the center of the street.

  One of the guys had pinned Grace against the wall and was holding her there. The other two stood side-by-side, facing me. The one on my right was Bushi Kogawa.

  Bushi crouched into a martial arts position. “Tatakawa seru, Gojira.”

  The other two guys laughed at that.

  Oh, Lord, help me. What was I supposed to do now? They were going to kill me. I scanned the narrow road, which was too narrow for cars to park on the street. No black sedan. No Mr. Sloan. Where was that Sasquatch, anyway?

  Stall. I had to stall. I raised my hands. “I don’t want to fight.”

  The guys chittered in Japanese, hysterical over my actions. I held my ground, determined to keep the peace as long as I could—or at least until Jun showed up to help. I shook my head and kept my hands held out, palms away from me. “Heiwa.”

  The guy holding Grace cackled. I scowled in his direction, distracted by his menacing laugh. Did Kimura-san give classes on evil laughs at the dojo?

  Then Bushi attacked. He punched my stomach dead center, delivered a blow to my temple, then one to the other temple, his hands chopping and slicing at Cuisinart speed.

  I cowered, my mind completely blank. What had I been learning all year? Strike points, you moron!

  I tried to get into defense position, but Bushi was all over me, swirling around like a cloud of smoke. I backpedaled, stunned by his speed. Bushi climaxed by kicking me in the chest. The force sent me flying back like I’d been hit by a car. I landed on my butt and skidded back two yards on the asphalt.

  Grace shrieked a desperate cry. The guy who’d pinned her against the wall was getting handsy.

  I popped to my feet and sprinted toward the guy holding Grace. I jabbed two quick punches into his thigh and back-fisted his temple. The guy crumpled, releasing Grace.

  One of
the other guys grabbed my arm and dragged me back. Jun and Kozue must have gone inside or they would have heard Grace’s screams. “Run, Grace. Get Jun!”

  This time Grace ran up the steps. The clang of the gate was a small consolation to my pending demise. At least Grace wouldn’t be hurt. And Jun would come and help me soon. I just had to hold my own until then.

  I could do that.

  But I’d be happier if Mr. Sloan came driving up this road right about now.

  I twisted free from my captor’s grip and had barely crouched into position before Bushi came at me again. I blocked a one, five, a three to my arm, another three, then took a hard five to my gut. I stumbled back, my stomach burning. Someone grabbed my left arm behind my back, and Bushi delivered a series of fives to my face.

  Where was Jun? I couldn’t win this fight alone. And if help wasn’t coming, I needed to get away. I rocked backward and twisted, yanking my right arm up and over the arms of the guy behind me, which forced him to let go. I snapped a back kick to Bushi’s face, hoping to get him far enough away from me that I could run.

  But Bushi dodged my kick and stayed close. My instinct was to clinch against him and take him to the ground, but with three against one, I needed to stay on my feet. Grace’s former captor was trying to stand, so I kicked him in the back of the knees, and he went down again.

  I bolted for the stairs, but Bushi intercepted, arms swinging. I gasped, my arms too slow to keep up my blocks. A fist snuck through and blitzed my eye. The right side of my face seared with blinding fire. Something wet trickled down my cheek.

  They were killing me. Where was Jun?

  I managed a decent five to Bushi’s face, and his sunglasses went flying. He sent a low five to my stomach, then another five to my chest. I sagged as he pounded the air from my body, my ears begging to hear the sound of the gate and Jun coming to my rescue or the sound of a car motor and Mr. Sloan’s funny accent.

  I tried to back out of Bushi’s reach, but my knees had turned to sponges. Bushi sprang forward, grabbed my arm, and threw me. I landed on my side and slid across the street, scraping up my arm.

  I had to move, to get up. But I could hardly draw breath as I lay there, staring at the street lamp above and the moths that fluttered around it. My body throbbed. Bile burned the back of my throat.

  And then my life got worse. All three attacked, kicking and punching at once, egging each other on in Japanese. Shoes dug into my back, my stomach, and my face. I curled into a ball and tried to protect myself, but my hands weren’t shield enough for the onslaught.

  A car skidded to a stop. Mr. Sloan! Thank You, God!

  But instead of a funny European accent, some guy said, “Isoginasai.”

  I was lifted off the ground by the back of my jeans and my arms. The tips of my sneakers dragged across the street as they moved me face down, inches from the ground. I opened my eyes and saw an open car door. They were going to toss me in.

  I groaned, a pathetic protest. A mixture of saliva and blood bubbled from my mouth and stretched down to the concrete, where it pooled underneath me.

  Someone grabbed my ankles, and my body jerked to a stop. For a moment I was suspended, pulled in both directions, a rope in a tug-o-war.

  “Drop him, man!” Jake’s voice.

  Why was Jake here?

  A meld of anxious voices spoke at once. Someone yelled my name. Bushi and his friends released me, and I fell to the street. Car doors slammed and tires peeled away.

  I lay on my face, happy they were gone and that I was still here. I’d stay here. It was nice here. Quiet in the sweet darkness. Safe. The asphalt was cool on my face. The crickets were still singing.

  A hand on my back. “Spencer? You there, man?” Lukas.

  “Get his feet,” Jake said. “On three. One, two, three.”

  My body was lifted off the street. I moaned and managed a “No” through another bloody gurgle, afraid my body was going to fall apart like a house of cards.

  “It’s okay, Spencer. We’ve got you.” Jake. “Tetsu, get the gate.”

  Pain flooded back as Jake and Lukas moved me. My face stung, warm and wet. My whole body throbbed with a deep ache as they jostled me up the stairs, past the gate, and inside Kimura-san’s air conditioned house. They laid me on something soft, all but my shins, which were on something hard. I blinked one eye, fully awake now, and fully aware of the pain. A sofa. In someone’s living room. My legs were too long and were resting on the wooden arm.

  I gasped as the liquid in my throat threatened to choke me.

  “Easy.” Jake lifted my head and tucked a square pillow underneath. “Jun, call Mr. S.”

  “Hai.” Jun vanished.

  Jun. Where had Jun been when I’d needed an extra set of hands? And still no Mr. Sloan? Had they gotten to him?

  I looked down at my shirt. It was covered in blood spatter that had to have come from me. I reached a finger up to feel my face. It felt numb and swollen, but so did my hands. I turned them over and saw that my knuckles were cut up and blistered.

  Jake was standing over me, Lukas beside him. I spied Grace hovering in the corner, staring at me in horror. Did I really look that bad? Maybe she’d start being nice to me now.

  I tried to swallow. A bitter salty taste flooded my throat and I gagged. My chest heaved, overcome with emotion and pain and my effort to try and suck in a clean breath.

  I heard Grace’s voice. “Can I do something to help?”

  “Yeah,” Jake said. “Get a washrag and a bowl of water. Some for him to drink too.” Footsteps over the wooden floor. “Spencer, anything broken?”

  “Dunno.”

  “Got all your teeth?”

  I dragged my tongue through my aching mouth. “Yah.”

  “Lucky man,” Jake said.

  Lucky? Really? Grace returned with a bowl and towel. Kozue appeared behind her with a glass of water.

  Jake took the water, held up my head, and put the glass to my lips. “Drink.”

  I sucked the water down. I could breathe again, but that hurt too.

  “I cannot find Mr. S,” Jun said.

  Jake set the glass on the floor and stood. “I’ll be right back. Grace, can you start on his face?” Jake left the room without waiting for her to answer.

  Grace knelt beside the sofa. I had to admit that, despite the horrible pain, it was a pretty nice moment. After all of her hating on me, I’d saved her from those guys.

  Grace wrung out the cloth and water trickled into the bowl. The fabric came at me, brushed my swollen lip, and I winced, my face on fire. “Spencer, I’m sorry,” she said, her voice cracking. “I should have gone past the gate.”

  “Nah yer fall.” I sucked in a deep breath that hurt my chest. “Did I lose?”

  She didn’t laugh. “There were three of them. It wasn’t a fair fight.”

  “But you should have seen what you did to them, Spencer,” Lukas said.

  I tried to laugh, but it sent a stabbing pain through my gut. “Didn’t get a hit in. Did I?”

  “There were stretchers,” Lukas said. “An ambulance hauled those jerks away.”

  I wanted to laugh about it, but I couldn’t. “Bushi.”

  Grace nodded and rinsed her rag out. “I saw him. Jun and Kozue had gone inside the house. It took me a while to find them. I’m sorry I wasn’t faster.”

  Images flashed through my mind. Bushi and his guys had been trying to stuff me in a car. Why? “I need Mr. S.”

  “Jake went to call him.”

  “Someone’s after me.” I closed my eyes and sucked in a ragged breath. I wanted more water.

  “Who?” Grace asked.

  I didn’t know who. If I did, I wouldn’t be nearly as freaked out. “More water?”

  Thankfully at that moment Jake returned with Mr. S and

  Kerri.

  “Oh! Spencer! My heavens!” Kerri ran to me and took the washcloth from Grace. “Grace dear, you go and sit with the others.”

  Grace frowned and
sat by the fireplace in the middle of the floor.

  Mr. S stood behind the couch, looking down at me. “What happened?”

  I opened my mouth but gurgled a slur of nonsense. Something was definitely bleeding in there. Maybe I’d bit my tongue? I licked my lips and pronounced carefully, “Bushi.”

  Mr. S’s eyebrows rose.

  “There were three of them, Mr. S,” Grace said. “Spencer told me to come inside, but I didn’t listen. It was all my fault.” She choked down a sob, then told the story of what happened outside and her search for help inside. She embellished a bit when she told them I’d rescued her—a huge kindness, considering the source. I had saved her hide, but I just wish I could learn to rescue myself.

  “I saw three guys beating the tar out of someone and thought, dang!” Jake said. “Then I saw that orange hair, the car pulled up, and I jumped to it. They were gonna nab him.”

  I accepted a sip of water from Kerri. “We should get him to a hospital,” she said.

  “They could be looking for him there,” Mr. S said.

  They? Who was this “they” that Mr. S seemed to know all about?

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Pat,” Kerri said. “He needs x-rays.”

  But Mr. S was never ridiculous. He knew something. And

  once I got him alone, I was going to make him tell me.

  I lay on the sofa for the next hour while Kerri and Mr. S discussed what to do with me between phone calls Mr. S made on his cell. I drifted in and out of consciousness. At one point, I overheard Mr. S talking to a man with a European accent.

  “Someone needs to contact me if plans are changed,” the man said. “I saw you all enter the theater, but he never came out.”

  Mr. Sloan? I lifted my head to get a good look, but I couldn’t see them.

  “Turns out some of them decided to walk home early,” Mr. S said. “Jun told his parents and Kimura-san, but he didn’t think to tell me.”

  “Nor did Kimura-san think to tell you,” the man I thought was Mr. Sloan whispered, which explained why Sasquatch didn’t save my hide. Kimura-san had made sure of that. Or was I just being paranoid?