“Can you be sure?”
Drake shrugged. “Not really, love. She could be anywhere.”
“And you’ll be coming?”
“Right when you tell us to.”
“You’re sure you can get inside?” Chika tried to shut down her fears but hearing Drake reassure her was already helping.
“Yorgi can, Spidey style. And Hibiki’s plan for our entry is sound.”
Chika smoothed out her skirt and stood in front of a floor-length mirror. “Oh wow, I look so . . . different.”
Alicia held out a little blue pill. “If you get chance, slip this into the bastard’s sake. It’ll dissolve fast and put him out like a light. For the entire night.”
Chika reached for it with relief. “Thank you. I think I can make that work.”
Hibiki stared at Alicia. “Have you done that before too?”
“Why Dai, don’t you remember?”
The cop managed a smile. “Not the time, Alicia. So not the time.”
“Hey, nobody ever said I was the insightful type.”
Drake handed her a small handbag. “No tracker. No weapon. They’ll search you pretty thoroughly. Just remember who you’re doing this for and it’ll be a doddle.”
“I’m not likely to forget,” Chika said a little haughtily. “Is it time?”
Hibiki nodded. “I have an arrangement with one of the traffickers who supplies the Yakuza. We busted them a few months ago. I can get you in through him.”
“Arrangement?”
“He gets twenty four hours head start. That’s all.”
“Dai,” Chika breathed. “That’s jail time if you’re caught.”
“Well, even if we get Mai out of there she isn’t exactly out of the woods. We’re all putting it on the line here, Chika. Everyone in this room.”
Chika made a huge effort to hold back the tears, knowing it would ruin her garish makeup. “Thank you.”
Drake touched her arm. “Be safe.”
Hibiki turned toward the door. “Let’s go.”
*
On joining the group of girls bound for the Yakuza stronghold, Chika sensed immediately that her job was going to be much harder than even Dai had imagined. The problem was the girls themselves, of course. Chika should have guessed. It wasn’t that they were abusive or violent in any way; it was the suspicion. These girls ran in relatively small circles—somewhere along the line one always recognized another—but when nobody in the large group of thirty women acknowledged Chika some of the more attentive ones noticed.
Whisperings began.
And she didn’t move like they moved, didn’t speak like they spoke. Conspicuous to say the least, she kept herself in a corner as men directed them to their limos. She spoke to no one. All she had to do was gain access, pair off, and drug her suitor. Her mind ran over the blueprints Alicia had made her memorize. That was all good, except they didn’t map out any lower levels. Time was short. Life might be even shorter. Chika kept her mind on the blueprints and Mai, and kept her silence.
The limos drove smoothly through the heart of Kobe, threading traffic and sticking to the main roads. Four in all, they kept together, obeying stop lights and staying courteous to other drivers. Inside, the girls helped themselves to drinks from the onboard bars—mini and chilled, jiving to the loud music and swapping stories. Chika followed their lead, taking a tumbler and pouring two measures of whisky. The warm liquid helped shore up her dwindling self-confidence.
Fight.
She checked the time—9 p.m. According to the chatter the girls were provided after the ‘businessmen’ had concluded their daily affairs—mostly local guys but also some visiting dealmakers and gang members. The visitors would have their pick and then the locals would choose from the rest. Chika gathered that this was almost regarded as a ‘night off’ for the working girls; it was certainly better than roaming the streets and sleeping in what amounted to nothing more than a filthy hostel.
A woman leaned forward from her place opposite Chika, her PVC skirt squeaking across the limo’s leather padding. “Wrong with you, baby? Looks like this your first time.” She squealed with laughter, almost spilling her drink.
Chika lifted her tumbler to her lips, gaining an extra moment to think. “First time back,” she said. “Been a few weeks.”
“Beat up?” the woman speculated. “Someone gave you otoko no ko?” She reached out to pat Chika’s belly. Chika flinched. The woman’s eyes narrowed until they were slits.
“You not like being touched, eh? Maybe you in wrong car? Wrong place?”
Laughter filled the confines of the vehicle. Chika turned away from it, watching the passing lights and darkened structures. People on the sidewalk stared at them, some enviously, not knowing that they were the lucky ones.
The woman touched Chika’s knee, tapping hard. “I am called Asa. I watch you. I watch you close.”
Chika embraced an urge to do battle. “So watch, bitch. Maybe you’ll learn something.”
Asa backed off, but turned to the other girls. “Something wrong there, mark me. She ain’t one of us. You know it. I say we turn her in to the boss.”
Chika thought about striking out. Isn’t that what a street girl would do? Defend her honor or something? Care a bit less?
Be stronger.
“Leave her the fuck alone, Asa.” A voice spoke up from the far side of the four-person seat. “She got her own business, that fine. Nothing to do with a troublemaker like you. Keep it to yourself, bitch.”
Chika turned a grateful look upon her savior but received only a cold glare in return. They wanted none of her, and Chika didn’t blame them. The limos pulled up outside a modern high-rise with walls as flush and white as paper, its windows gleaming. Men came forward from a covered entrance to open their doors.
“Move,” they said gruffly. “Out. Now.”
Chika exited and drifted apart from Asa and the others, thinking it best to enter with a different group. With only minutes to practice she watched them walk, listened to them talk, and prepared as best she could. Mai’s life depended on her acquiring a certain competence. Gaining entry would surely be the hardest part of her night.
The doors were held open as the girls walked into a small lobby, divided and bordered by smoked glass screens. Chika kept her gaze straight, her head slightly lowered. She fell in behind a girl who looked just like her. Should it worry her that her boyfriend and Alicia Myles had, at least outwardly, turned her into a street girl in less than forty minutes? They shuffled toward an elevator bank, each girl having to pass through a metal detector and then enter separate rooms. Armed guards surveyed them without emotion. Chika held strong to her mission, clenching her fists. Around her the girls chatted. Through the lobby-height windows the streets outside appeared normal. Chika wondered if Dai and the SPEAR team were out there, planning their entry.
The line moved forward, and she passed through the metal detector. Her visit to the closed-off room would be next.
*
Drake readied himself. If Chika was going to come through it would be within the next few hours and the team wanted to be ultra-prepared. Hibiki’s plan to get them inside the Yakuza HQ was good, but relied on several unknown factors.
The first of which was Karin Blake’s skill.
Back in DC, the young genius was tapping away at a computer, analyzing records and infiltrating security systems. Her own omnisciently designed shadow program was sniffing its way around the digital highway of Kobe, searching every rooftop, underground garage and blind corner. Drake left her to it, gearing up with Dahl, Alicia and Hibiki. Grace watched it all in silence, ignoring even her cellphone and favorite social media sites. Yorgi knelt in a corner, casting a careful eye over the equipment he had brought with him from the States.
Drake drifted over, pistol in hand. “Ey up, pal. What ya got there?”
Yorgi sat back on his haunches. “PDMS sheets. Pretty new invention, not at all associated with buildering and forced entry but
still quite useful and effective.” He showed Drake a palm size sheet of plastic. “Sheet is covered in fibers just like hairs on a Gecko’s feet. The hairs produce what is called . . . intermolecular van der Waals forces, which let them stick to surfaces. Walls. I can attach them to my pads,” he pointed out the handheld device, “And climb any wall, vertically.”
Drake touched one of the sheets. “Had any problems with letting go?”
Yorgi grinned. “Not yet, my friend. This is first time I’m using them.”
Alicia, overhearing, also drifted over. “Yogi, I never even thanked you for helping us out in Paris last week. You pull this off I might even let you . . .” she nodded suggestively.
Yorgi smiled. “And follow in Beauregard’s footsteps? Not likely.”
“Not adequate enough for me?”
“Not crazy enough for you.”
Drake fought a strange urge to question Alicia as to the Frenchman’s intentions by shouting out to Dahl. “Any news?”
The Swede was chatting to Hibiki. “I’d say so. For you at least.”
“Eh? Whaddya mean?”
Hibiki waved a hand. “After dropping off Chika I spent a little time discreetly quizzing the local police. They know you are here, Matt, with a team. And they are watching for you.”
“Bollocks.”
“Only your face was recognized by the spotters. Perhaps they lost you or had very little time. But we can’t risk you coming along on this mission. We can’t risk Mai’s safety, and we need somebody to safeguard Grace and man the comms.” He gestured at Drake.
“Well bollocks again. No way am I sitting on my arse whilst Mai’s in trouble. Besides, you need me.”
Dahl loaded his weapon as he spoke. “We need Alicia. We need Hibiki. They need a strong, skilful, capable bodyguard. So, see, we don’t need you at all, Yorkie.”
“Seriously,” Hibiki broke in before Drake could react. “They will spot you the moment you exit this hotel. Then they will follow us. You’re out of it, Matt. Sidelined.”
Drake took a breath but couldn’t think of anything to say. The wind had been well and truly taken out of his sails. This is Mai, he thought. Surely there’s a way. The problem was, Hibiki’s rationale made total sense.
Karin’s voice spilled from the laptop’s speakers. “Guys. Guys? I think I’ve found it. Hope you’re ready.”
“To take on a few thousand Yakuza in their own headquarters in their own city on their own terms?” Dahl’s grin would have illuminated a sea cave. “Looking forward to it.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Chika exited the secure room feeling relieved. Not knowing what to expect she had imagined all sorts of horrors, but the uninterested man inside had asked questions about her boss—questions that Hibiki had prepped her for—given her a cursory frisking and then emptied out her small handbag. It contained only lipstick, a compact mirror makeup case, condoms and a cellphone, all of which were expected.
“Follow house rules at all times,” the man said as if reciting a script.
“Yes, sir.”
The elevator arrived and Chika got her first clue as to where she might be taken. A man holding a compact machine-pistol urged her group inside and pressed the button for basement level two. She noticed there were three lower levels in total. All around her the girls chatted and the men ignored them. The elevator dinged and the doors whooshed open. Chika found herself facing a narrow corridor with doors to each side and an outsize open-plan room at the far end. She noticed a stairwell access door to her left. It was into the far room that they were herded. Throw cushions, leather suites, loungers and pouffes sat everywhere. To one side stood a number of curtained-off booths; to another a full-size bar with waitress service. More ominously a raised, black-lacquered stage formed the room’s showpiece, complete with dancing pole. A clock on the wall read 9:35.
“Make yourselves at home, ladies,” a voice rang out. “Our guests shall be along shortly.”
Chika headed for the bar. As she ordered a drink several tattooed men appeared dragging a youth between them. The youth, though dressed well, sported several cuts and bruises to his face and the way he favored his right side made Chika guess at a number of broken ribs. The youth was dragged unceremoniously through the large room, his captors not acknowledging the presence of all the girls.
“Take him to lock up,” one of the men said, and then he too headed for the bar. As he ordered, Chika saw that his knuckles were bloody. She looked away.
“Young men,” he breathed knowingly. “All the same. All think they know what is best. If he lives he will learn.”
Chika sipped her whisky, and kept an eye on the youth’s progress. The elevator doors closed after the press of a button and a green indicator light told her that the elevator was heading down.
So the lock up was on level three. A positive starting point at least.
She wondered if the girls were allowed to initiate conversation. Several questions sprang to mind that would help pinpoint Mai. Then she caught Asa staring straight at her.
She walked over. “I still watching you,” she said, waving at a barman. “I see where you are looking.”
“Leave me alone,” Chika hissed. “I’m only here for the guests.”
“Now ladies,” the man with bloody knuckles said, smiling. “Be nice. You are all here to help us unwind, yes?” He studied Chika. “The classy,” his gaze whipped to Asa, “and the crude. Make your guests happy, yes?”
He pointed at the door. Several men filed through; business types, all bearing the hassles of the day on their faces. The bar came to life and the music started. Chika flowed to the center of the room, ignoring Asa’s murderous gaze. Dread for Mai kept her inner strength at an elevated level, her outward demeanor intact. This was not her; the person she played was not even in her arsenal.
Fight on. Remember how you felt when Mai returned. When your parents returned safe. When Mai saved you . . .
“Hai,” A man bowed very slightly before her. “You are mine for tonight. I will take that,” he relieved her of her glass. “And you will fetch me another. Quickly now.”
Chika hid her distaste well, rose and walked toward the bar. It struck her then that, even after the nail-biting ordeal she had already been through, this night was only just beginning.
*
Drake listened attentively as Karin helped turn Dai Hibiki’s outrageous plan into something that might achieve fruition. Though gutted at the outcome of events, his behind-the-scenes role in running the op was imperative and he needed Karin’s knowledge. Grace, on the other hand, had now started to officially ignore him, given that he’d seemed so traumatized at having to stay and guard her.
Too busy to worry, he concentrated on Karin’s words.
“I have to admit, when Hibiki first stated he got this plan from something he heard about the White House I was more than a little sceptic. This is the Yakuza we’re talking about, a Japanese mob network, not the Secret Service. But it may have paid off. When Hibiki told me about all the prisoners that the Yakuza interrogate inside their HQ, all the bodies they create, all the hospital visits that must ensue, all the high-level deals that simply can’t involve someone just walking through the front doors of either the HQ or even the compound, then it makes absolute sense that they have built a small tunnel network underneath Kobe.”
Hibiki coughed. “Not quite a network, but—”
“We don’t know that,” Karin admitted. “But we do know this. I spent an hour trawling through deeds of ownerships. Most were easy, some a little vague, but only one led me through several dummy corporations from places as far apart as Zurich and Australia, Nigeria and New York. Only one presented half a dozen dead ends, fake corporations and even faked personnel, including directors. Finally, I tracked the company’s ownership to a Yakuza-run gambling conglomerate with outlets all over Japan. It owns the three-story building across the road and to the side of theirs. It’s actually the closest of the lot.”
“So they use that building to admit their various guests. People, for one reason or another they don’t want seen even in Kobe, and take them through a man-made tunnel into the true headquarters.” Dahl cleared his throat. “A clever set up.”
“They have been involved in this business for so long,” Hibiki said. “It would surprise me if they didn’t have every detail perfected by now.”
“Let’s hope they don’t,” Dahl said. “For all our sakes.”
Alicia addressed Karin. “Any communications into the place?”
“You mean anything special? Not that I can find.”
“Can you tap their network?” Hibiki asked.
“I can do anything. Why?”
“We’ll stand a better chance of access if they know we’re coming,” he said, then laughed. “Amazingly. Alicia, I realize this is a stupid question, but would you like to be tied up?”
The Englishwoman licked her lips. “Depends. By who?”
Hibiki rose and pointed to himself. “By Yakuza!” And nodded at Dahl. “And by foreign devil enforcer looking for reward. “Don’t worry, we won’t hurt you.”
Alicia raised an eyebrow. “Then you’re no fun at all. Ya gotta take it to the limit, Dai-Dai, or you’ll never know just how much you can take. Or what you might like. Ya get me?”
Drake made a pretense at laughter but his eyes spoke otherwise. Alicia read them in an instant, reminding him how well they knew each other.
“Moving forward,” she reiterated. “Never stopping, never looking back. That’s me, right? The Girl Dynamic.” Somehow Drake knew she meant it as a title. “Look back, pause for a second, and I’m dead, right?”
“It doesn’t have to be that way and you know it.”
“Ah, and when I crash and burn who’s gonna be there to catch me? Who’s gonna manage the fallout? You?”
“If you want me to.”
Alicia stared as if she didn’t believe him. It was Dahl who interrupted their moment.
“C’mon, Girl Dynamic. We have a lot to do.”
*
The Lost Kingdom (Matt Drake Book 10) Page 10