Just when I thought I was done, Dr. Maki swabbed my shoulder where Bushi’s katana blade had nicked me. I’d totally forgotten about that. I couldn’t see it very well, but the doctor cleaned it and stuck two butterfly bandages over it. No more stitches. Yay.
“How do you feel?” Mr. Sloan asked me.
“Okay,” I said automatically. What I really wanted was to roll on my side and sleep for a week.
Mr. Sloan grinned wide, and from my low angle I noticed that he had a gold filling on one of his molars. “You look like bangers and mash.”
I had no response to such a comment.
“I’ll check on the others,” Mr. Sloan said. “If they’re done, we’ll come in here to get your statement. So you just relax for now, but don’t fall asleep on me yet, okay?”
“Yeah, okay.” Easier said than done, though.
Maki-san patted my arm and walked to the door with Mr. Sloan.
“Arigato,” I said.
The doc bowed. Then Mr. Sloan opened the door and they left me alone.
Statements. Whee. All night I’d been pushing back the weight of what was happening in order to survive. But now all I could think of was Mr. S sitting here while I explained how I’d put his daughter into danger multiple times because she’d been trying to rescue me when I’d been off being an idiot. Again.
If something had happened to Mary because of my stupidity …
I lifted my head and inspected my stitches. They looked nasty. Black hash marks on my pink skin, tied off individually and pulling the gash on my skin neatly together. It was actually pretty sweet. The doc did nice work.
The door opened then, and three men entered: Mr. S, Mr. Sloan, and the Japanese van driver guy, who was holding a small black case. The driver sat on the doctor’s chair. He set the case on his knees, opened it, and pulled out a digital recorder. Mr. S took the chair beside him, and Mr. Sloan set up a folding chair next to Mr. S. Three men sitting in a row at my bedside: Driver, Mr. S, and Mr. Sloan: one, two, three. Weird.
“We need to officially debrief you,” Mr. S said. “But first I’d like to ask you, off the record, what you told Mary about the Mission League. Did you tell her anything specific?”
I shook my head. “I didn’t tell her anything but to mind her own business. No offense, Mr. S. I know she’s had visions about stuff, and I should have listened to her, but I …” I took a deep breath. “I didn’t want to listen.”
“What did she tell you?” Mr. S asked.
“She said she’d dreamed about three guys in dark sunglasses attacking me, which happened outside Kimura’s place. I think she dreamed that one a few times. That’s why she told me not to come to Japan. Then she must have had another vision, because she warned me not to trust Japanese girls when I was here.”
“You think she meant Keiko and Kozue Kimura?” Mr. Sloan asked.
“I do now.” Stupid Asian princesses, anyway.
Mr. S nodded to the van driver. “Go ahead.”
The driver pushed a button on the recorder and spoke into it. “This is Field Agent Michito Itou of Naha debriefing juvenile agent-in-training Spencer Garmond, a resident of Pilot Point, California, USA.” The guy spoke perfect English and had no accent. “SF Agent 2269 and Service Agent Pat Stopplecamp of Pilot Point, California are also present.” Itou recorded the time and date and then looked at me. “Try to forget about the recorder. We’re just having a nice chat. No one’s in trouble, okay?”
I nodded, but I also knew better. I was in big trouble.
“Agent Garmond, tell us what happened tonight,” Itou
said.
So I told them how Keiko, who was really Kozue, had wanted to show me her dad’s boat. “But it was a trap. Anya and Bushi were there, and Anya wanted me to tell her something about a twin, but I didn’t know what she was talking about. I mean, there are so many twins around me right now, I don’t even understand.” I eyed Mr. Sloan. “And then I saw Mary, and Anya pulled the knife and—”
“Slow down.” Mr. Sloan said. “Stay in order. Just give us the facts, then we’ll go back and talk it out as much as you need, okay?”
I swallowed and started the story at the point when we were at the pier. “We walked to the pier and saw Kimura-san’s boat, the Dragon Star. Kozue showed me around, and when we got downstairs, Anya and Bushi were there. I tried to get away, but Kozue—I think it was her—kicked me in the face, then Bushi knocked me out. When I came to, I was tied up, and Keiko … Well, both girls were there.”
“Keiko and Kozue Kimura?” Mr. Sloan said.
“Right. And Mary too.” I glanced at Mr. S. “So Anya wanted to talk about the profile match. She asked me a bunch of questions that I didn’t know, and kept wanting to know something about a twin, but with all the twins around these days, I didn’t know what she was talking about, and I was freaking out because of the knife. I asked her to let Mary go, but she just laughed.”
Mr. Sloan asked me to be very detailed about the questions that Anya wanted to know. I did my best. Then I explained about how Anya’s eyes had gone all black and how Mary had said the Bible verses. It seemed to take forever to tell the whole story, and after what seemed like hours, Itou-san finally clicked off the recorder and packed up the machine.
“So what happened out there?” I asked. “Did you catch Anya and Bushi? What about all those agents and their mission to catch that Shoko woman?
“We stopped the drug shipment,” Itou-san said. “But Shoko Miyake wasn’t there. And Anya got away. We did apprehend Bushi Kogawa and Keiko and Kozue Kimura, but we did not catch their father.”
“Kimura-san’s involved,” I said. “He has to be.”
“I agree,” Itou-san said. “But without proof, there is nothing we can do.”
At least they got Bushi this time. I was glad of that.
“This is not my investigation, but it seems to me you’re missing a piece of this puzzle,” Mr. Sloan said. “The drugs. iVitrax. This is what your investigation is ultimately about. Stopping the shipment was well and good, but without locating the source, finding out where the drugs are made, this problem will start over again and you’ll have a new shipment to stop.”
“I know,” Itou-san said. “But we haven’t been able to figure it out where they’re making it.”
“Might you have any ideas, Spencer?” Mr. Sloan asked me. “Hear anything from Keiko or Kozue that hints at a place where the drug is made?”
“iVitrax, you mean? They make it?”
“Similar to how meth is made,” Mr. S said. “They cook it.”
Goosebumps broke out over my arms. “At the fitness center,” I said. “There’s this place at the fitness center that I haven’t been able to map out. A big room. No doors on the inside, but there’s one on the outside of the building. Locked.”
“Spencer was assigned a facility sketch of Kimura Fitness,” Mr. S explained.
“How big a room?” Mr. Sloan asked.
“Around twenty by thirty.” My heart was thumping now. “And it smells funny in that part of the building too. Like science class.” Like a meth lab. There was one near my friend Paco’s house when we were in fifth grade. We used to pretend to be cops and spy on the drug dealers until his brother Carlos—a.k.a., C-Rok—yelled at us.
“Let’s check it out,” Itou said.
“Now?” Mr. S said.
“We stopped the shipment,” Itou said. “My guess is they’re going to be cleaning up shop for a while so they can lay low. We need to catch them before everything is gone.”
Where is your facility sketch?” Mr. S asked me.
“Uh … at the school. I forgot it there last week.” With my dream journal. So glad the Twinadoes didn’t get their hands on that.
Itou scrounged around the place and found me a new T-shirt. It was heather blue, had a huge picture of Mario on the front, and actually fit me. I still didn’t have any shoes. We all piled into the van again. We drove to the school, which was already in session for Monday m
orning. Talk about a long night! I fetched my sketch and my dream journal, then we drove across town to Kimura Fitness to see if my theory might pan out.
REPORT NUMBER: 28
REPORT TITLE: I Fight a Dangerous Criminal Who Wears Platform Heels
SUBMITTED BY: Agent-in-Training Spencer Garmond
LOCATION: Kimura Fitness Center, 3-18-57 Jinan, Naha, Okinawa, Japan
DATE AND TIME: Monday, July 13, 9:21 a.m.
WHEN WE GOT TO KIMUR A FITNESS, Itou parked beside a fancy gray car. Three guys got out of the car: our decoys from the Jet Ski chase: the blond guy who’d pretended to be Grace, the real Redbeard who’d played the part of me, and Mr. Sloan II.
“Wait in the van,” Mr. S said to me and Grace.
Itou, Mr. Sloan I, and Mr. S piled out of our van. The six men circled up in the parking lot.
“What do you think they’re talking about?” Grace asked.
“Oh, you know, Mr. Sloan is telling them how it’s going to
go down. I’ve seen him work. He’s amazing. I just don’t know why there are two of him.”
“I got the impression Itou was in charge,” Grace said. “This is his country.”
I watched the men talk, their hand motions, their facial expressions. Itou was the one holding my map. “Maybe.”
The men split up then. The decoys went around the side of the building where I knew the mystery door was. Itou and Mr. Sloan I headed for the front doors.
Mr. S came over and opened the driver’s door. “You two stay in the van.”
“Okay,” Grace said.
But Mr. S was looking at me. “Spencer? I want your word that you will not leave this vehicle.”
Like I had the energy to chase down any baddies after the night I’d had. “You got it, Mr. S. Can I take a nap?”
“Fine by me.” Mr. S shut the door and jogged after Mr. Sloan I.
“He’s going with them?” I said. “I didn’t think he was allowed to do that.”
“Why not?” Grace asked.
“Well, Mr. S is a special agent. Not a field agent.” And he wasn’t exactly in top shape, either.
“Maybe they want an extra set of eyes.” Grace moved from her seat in the back to the driver’s seat.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“I just want to look. I love the cars in Japan. Everything fits me.”
I snorted. “That’s because you’re a midget.”
“When we get home, you and I can go to the Ford dealership and try out some big boy trucks, okay?”
That got a smile out of me. Were Grace and I were really going to be friends now? I decided to give it a try and moved up into the passenger’s seat, which wasn’t easy. “I really thought there might be more legroom up here, but there’s not.”
She giggled, holding onto the steering wheel like a kid whose parents had gone into the store. “I’m really sorry for all the mean things I did to you this summer, Spencer. It was wrong. When I saw you in class that first morning and you didn’t recognize me, I thought I’d finally have a chance at payback.”
And she paid it back well too. “I get it, Grace. It’s cool. You don’t have to keep apologizing.”
She looked at me, and her eyes seemed even brighter blue than usual. “You forgive me, then?”
Something twisted in my stomach, but I ignored that cute look on her face. I was done with girls. For now. Friends was the best—and safest—plan. “Yeah, sure. Bygones, and all that.”
We both sat staring at the front doors of the fitness center.
“Do you think you’re right? That there’s a drug lab in there?” Grace asked.
“I don’t know.” I’d feel pretty stupid if they came out and said it was only a conference room.
A door opened on the far end of the building. The door that came out of the end of the gym.
“Check it out,” I said, pointing.
A woman stepped out, dressed like some kind of businesswoman in a fancy red suit with skin-colored platform sandals. She scanned the parking lot, then stepped outside and held the door as it closed, like she was trying to keep it from making a lot of noise. She was holding a huge white purse over one arm.
When she turned and started trotting this way, I got a good look at her face. “It’s her, Shoko Miyake,” I said. “The Japanese bad guy boss. Give me your cell phone.”
Grace gasped. “Anya’s people have it. They took my purse and Mary’s backpack too. That phone was brand new. My mom is going to kill me.”
That statement gave me pause, considering the dreams I’d been having about Grace, but I was pretty sure Grace’s attacker in the visions was male.
“How do you know it’s the bad guy boss, anyway?” Grace asked.
“I saw her picture on the LOC list when I was in Moscow.”
“What’s a LOC list?”
Shoko was headed our way.
“Get down,” I said.
We slouched in our seats, and I saw the keys dangling from the ignition. I opened the glove box. Nothing but papers. I turned and scanned the floor of the van and spotted the box of bungee cords under the middle row.
Those crazy sandals clomp clomped past us. Her shadow ran across the backs of our seats.
“We’ve got to stop her,” I said.
“Are you nuts? Mr. S said we have to stay in the van.”
“Yeah, but she’s a notorious criminal, Grace. We can’t just let her get away. Start the van. Quick!”
“I only have a permit, and it’s in my purse!”
“We’re not going to leave the parking lot.”
“Which doesn’t make it any less illegal.”
“Grace, please?”
She growled at me. “If you get me kicked out of the Mission League, I’m going to be mad at you again.” But she started the van and put it in drive.
The van jerked once, twice, as Grace steered it out of our parking spot and after Shoko. The woman turned to look over her shoulder at us, then started trotting faster.
“Go past her,” I said. “Keep her on my side of the van so I can try and hit her with the door.” I rolled down my window. Maybe I could do this thing without getting out of the van. How very Tarantino of me.
“That’s not going to work,” Grace said.
“Works on TV.” I turned in my seat and unlatched the door, holding it so that it would still look closed. A bell started dinging.
“The van wants you to shut the door,” Grace said.
We were going too slowly for the door to do much damage. “Faster, Grace!”
The van lurched forward. Shoko was headed for a white car. We were almost close enough. I secured my grip on the door. In three … two … I shoved it open.
I wish I could say the woman went flying like people always do in movies. But my door merely struck her elbow, which only made her stumble. Somehow her gigantor purse got stuck on the driver’s side mirror. Then she was chasing us, plodding along on those dumb shoes, yelling in Japanese.
I pulled the purse in through my window and tossed it in the middle seat behind me. “Slow down,” I said. “Let her catch us.”
“Catch us? Why?”
“So I can catch her.” Which sounded good in theory …
Grace slowed and circled the end of the lot. Shoko was standing between us and the fitness center now. And she looked ticked off. I guess she really wanted her purse. I wondered what was in it. Maybe I could use that. Get her close, pull her into the van somehow.
I moved back to the middle row of seats and opened the sliding door. I tossed Shoko’s purse in the back row so she wouldn’t be able to see it. I grabbed a handful of bungee cords from the box and held them up until I found the shortest one. I held a hook in each hand, then shoved the cord part between my legs where it wouldn’t be obvious. “Now pull up beside her so I can talk to her.”
“What if she isn’t Shoko, Spencer?” Grace said. “What if she’s just a woman who was working out? Or what if she has a weapon?”
/>
That would be bad. “She’s not holding anything. If she had one, it’s probably in her purse.”
Grace slowed the van beside Shoko so that the woman was standing by my open sliding door.
“Konnichiwa,” I said. “Can we offer you a ride?”
Shoko clomped up to the open door. Her cheeks were flushed, and strands of her long black hair clung to her cheeks. “You the American boy,” she said, a hint of disgust in her voice.
“The? Is there really only one?” I said.
“Give purse!”
“Sure. Hold on.” I glanced around the floor like I was searching for the purse. Shoko leaned inside, looking for herself. Keeping my hold on the bungee cord, I grabbed her, wrapping the cord around her arms as I did and pulling her into the van, over my lap. “Go, Grace!”
The van rolled forward. Shoko screamed and squirmed on my lap, kicking her legs. I leaned out of the way of those heavy shoes and locked the hooks together behind her back. Then twisted my legs up onto the seat so I could push her onto the floor. It wasn’t easy. I have long legs and they aren’t that flexible. But I got her down there, and as always in a Japanese vehicle, it was a tight squeeze.
Shoko was still screaming, but I didn’t have any way of stopping that. I pushed her feet up and slid the side door shut. Hopefully, Mr. Sloan and the agents would come out here before anyone else came investigating the screaming woman. Shoko bucked and kicked, so I put my feet on her back to hold her down and decided to try and bind her ankles. She got me in the eye with one of her massive shoes before I managed to grab both her feet. I took another cord and twisted it around her ankles until it was tight.
Grace pulled back into the parking space Itou had originally chosen and shut off the van. Nice.
“Help me bind her hands better,” I said, tossing a bungee cord to Grace.
She turned and stood between the two front seats. Once I got a good grip on Shoko’s hands, Grace was able to wrap the cord around her wrists.
“What do we do now?” Grace asked.
Like I knew. “We wait for the agents to come out.” I slid back on the middle bench, putting my back to the wall and stretching out my legs on the seat toward the door. Shoko was still struggling, rocking the van with her attempts to get free from the bungee cords. I’d wrapped them super tight, though.
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