The Lost Kingdom (Matt Drake Book 10)

by David Leadbeater

  Chika swapped whisky for water as the night grew deeper. The lights were dimmed, the music amplified, the women grew louder and the men became drunker. Chika tolerated her beau’s hand on her thigh and getting up every fifteen minutes to refresh his drink. The fetching and carrying became a welcome relief as did his frequent trips to the restroom, though she suspected he was doing more than what came natural in there judging by the powder that began to collect around his nostrils. At this rate she wouldn’t even need to use Alicia’s blue pill.

  Still, the night dragged on, the hands of the clock turning far slower than they should. Well aware that there was nothing she could do until the party died down, Chika sought to hasten its windup by drawing her admirer’s attention to the rooms nearby, now with doors standing open. Those around her caught on and some of the men decided to make their parties more private.

  “Little minx.” Her friend sought to whisper, but actually shouted in her ear. “Want to get me alone do you?”

  Chika thought there was nothing she’d like better than to get him alone, and winked. “Ready when you are.”

  “One more drink,” he said. “And . . . and a quick trip.” He headed off, shambling toward the restrooms under the guards’ watchful eyes. Chika readied herself. When he came back she plied him with another quick drink and then half dragged him away from the party. Thinking ahead, she chose one of the open rooms nearest the elevators and stumbled inside, turning to lock the door behind them.

  Oh, oh, first problem. There’s no lock.

  That meant anyone could check on them at any time during the night. But it was also a factor she couldn’t control, so she ignored it. The second thing she did was to scan the room for any obvious cameras, and found nothing. The third was to grab her man in a bear hug and swing him over toward the dresser.

  “Are we dancing now?” he grunted. “You didn’t want to dance back there? On the stage?”

  “Now, I’m in the mood,” she whispered, swinging him around.

  “Oh.”

  Together they hit the dresser, knocking over both the lamp and empty vase that sat there, breaking both. Now, at least if there were any cameras inside, they had innocently moved position. The only other place a camera might be secreted was inside one of the recessed ceiling down lighters, but again she could not affect that so ignored it.

  Now, for the poseur.

  He was standing on the bed, stomach sucked in, in the throes of taking off his shirt. Chika made a pretense of admiring his pecs and then turned to the in-room bar. “Drink?”

  “Later. C’mere.”

  Chika eyed him in the mirror. He was standing with his thumbs hooked into his pants, grinning like an evil clown on Halloween night. Carefully, she ignored his request and bent over to grab a bottle of water and a miniature whisky. As predicted, the man just watched. Chika poured his drink, added a splash of water just how he liked it and then moved to block the tumbler.

  Now all she had to do was add the pill.

  Damn.

  Problem was, the tiny blue capsule was tucked into the waistband of her underwear. There were no toilets in this room, so no way of slipping inside. Chika took a deep breath and turned around; the smile plastered across her face slipping even as she met the man’s eyes. Luckily, he was both drunk and slightly stoned and finding it hard to focus. As he slipped his trousers down, Chika slid her own hands down the front of her skirt.

  Where the hell . . .?

  Feeling more than a little foolish she withdrew her hands, still smiling like a crazy woman, and trying to keep the pill hidden between her fingers. The man jumped down from the bed, trying to affect a dance routine but failing badly. He stumbled, caught himself by grabbing her belt, and then rose quickly, suddenly inches from her.

  “Let’s have a kiss, lovely.”

  Chika froze, her entire body stiffening. If she wanted anything she wanted to smash him on the tip of the nose. “No kissing,” she said. “We’re here to fuck not to fall in love.”

  His eyes went wide, his face slackened. Chika turned away, using the distraction to slip the pill into the waiting whisky. Now, just one minute. One more minute and . . .

  The door opened. A guard popped his head around.

  “All well in here?”

  Chika nodded quickly; her friend barely noticed the intrusion. So maybe there had been a camera on the dresser. The guards knew it had fallen over and were checking. Chika slipped her arms around the man and winked at the guard.

  “We’re fine.”

  He withdrew with a shake of the head. Chika reached behind, bringing the drink around and pressing it to his lips.

  “Kiss that whilst I undress, lover boy.” As she twisted away, regaining a little space, she realized she had no idea how long the drug would take to work. And when it did, lover boy really should be on top of the bed. She would find it exceedingly difficult to drag his dead weight up there. Quickly, she climbed onto the bed and watched him drink up.

  “Come here.”

  Apprehension raced through her system. What am I going to do if this doesn’t work pretty damn quick? The man climbed up beside her, eyes rolling, but was it the drink or the drugs? Was it the pill? She tried not to flinch as his hand fell on her exposed leg. She covered it with her own, pressing hard. His other hand came around and gripped her shoulder, pulling her in.

  “One kiss,” he slurred. “Just one . . . little . . . kiss.”

  His head went down, body slumping across her knees. Chika felt a world of relief open up inside of her. Oh thank you, thank you! With some effort she managed to drag his comatose body up the bed so that his head rested on a pillow and then covered him over. Then she rearranged two spare pillows as best she could, making the lump under the covers appear to be two shapes rather than one.

  Next, her handbag. The cellphone. She dialed a number, whispering, “Hello? It’s me.”

  Dai Hibiki sounded relieved. “Hey, it’s good to hear from you. How . . . how did it go?”

  Chika felt a little devilment rise. “Do you want the details?”

  “No!”

  Alicia, hooked into the same line, grunted, “I do.”

  Chika let her boyfriend off the hook. “Pill worked before anything went down.” She shuddered. “Not that I could have gone through with it.” She tried to ignore the impossible choice that might have arisen, the one that included saving her sister’s life.

  “They’re heading for the other building.” Drake’s voice was low and tinny, fed through two sets of comms and finally through Hibiki’s cell. “Where are you?”

  “About to start my check,” she said. “Providing the party’s ended. I’ll be in touch.”

  Without further comment she finished the call, slipped the phone back into her bag and checked the door. Happily, the handle turned freely. Butterflies flickered through her stomach, though if they saw her she still had a way out even now. She cracked the door an inch, saw only empty corridor. Another inch.

  Rooms across the hall were closed, every one. Before, they had all been standing open. That was good. She pulled the door further and poked her head around the frame. The corridor all the way to the party area was clear, though figures moved slowly through the room, most likely cleaners. Chika waited two more minutes. Nothing stirred.

  With the restroom next door, Chika played her last card and headed for the door. Beyond it, as she knew, stood the door to the staircase and the elevators. Still, she was alone. If there were cameras at this point she was lost, but none were in evidence. Maybe they limited their surveillance to the main areas. In her head, reasoning to keep herself brave and sane, it made sense.

  Chika passed beyond the restrooms and entered the stairwell. Silent and chilled at this time of night it was an alien environment, fraught with danger. Uncarpeted, the risers echoed at her first footstep. The far wall was a vertical line of one-way glass, affording her a view into the outside world, more a hateful taunt now than a comfort. She steeled herself and p
added down the first switchback, pausing on the landing to listen.

  No sound. The Yakuza building could be a morgue.

  Slightly lifted, she pressed on, descending the second switchback and arriving at the lowest level. The door that faced her was as bland as they come; nothing screamed Yakuza Prison and Torture Level! but at the inner sanctum of their highly guarded stronghold would they really need bells and whistles? The only people foolish enough to be down here were the careless and the already dead.

  Mai had been careless, she thought. Yes, even her seemingly indestructible sister had failings. What did that say for Chika?

  Ignoring the self-deprecation she opened the door, expecting alarms but hearing nothing. Moving on she listened hard. The space beyond the door was the mirror image of the one above, except that the row of doors that lined the corridor all looked reinforced and possessed a Judas window at about head height. This was where Chika scored a small victory. The Judas window might give the guards the facility to check on their captives at any time but it also gave her the chance to effectively search for Mai.

  She moved into the center of the corridor, ignoring any fears now as she came closer to her goal. There was no turning back, no easy way out. Even the mighty SPEAR team were depending on her. The first tiny window looked onto an empty cell as did its twin across the hall. The third showed her a small, thin man curled up on a bare bunk, knees tucked up to his chest. She recognized him as the youth from earlier, but closed the window quickly when she saw him start to stir. At this point she paused, thinking it prudent to check the shadows at the far end of the corridor. On her level this was a recreational area; down here she didn’t like to speculate, but the inky darkness at least told her that it wasn’t in use.

  The next two windows looked onto barely clothed men in varying forms of health, neither of them good. But it was the sixth window that made her catch her breath and stare with widening eyes.

  Oh help us . . .

  Mai was chained inside, kneeling on the floor and facing the window, arms outstretched to the wall and loops at her back. Her black hair fell over her skull, hanging down so that it almost scraped the floor below. The muscles in her arms were taut, strained. Her knees were red raw. For a dreadful moment Chika saw no movement at all, but then made out a slight rise and fall near her spine.

  Mai was down but she was not out.

  Chika bit her lips hard, drawing blood. Every sinew, every instinct in her body wanted to cry out, wanted to at least make some kind of contact. But the mission was clear—no time to waste. Dai and Drake and the rest needed Mai’s exact position as soon as possible. They could already be on site.

  Chika withdrew fast, fumbled about in her bag and made the call.

  Drake answered. “I’m running ops. Did you find Mai?”

  Chika gave him the location.

  “Bloody good work. Mai would be proud.”

  Chika fought the tears back and the urge to tell Drake how Mai looked, that he had to hurry. They knew the situation and it would only slow things down. Her job done, her situation still precarious, she backed away and made for the stairwell.

  Now, it was out of her hands.

  Back up the stairwell and across to her room she trod lightly and carefully, feeling a deep sense of relief and now hoping that Lover Boy remained in his comatose state. Hopefully the girls would be made to leave before their suitors awoke. A reasonable assumption given some of their identities.

  Inside the room all was quiet. Chika let out a sigh of absolute relief. Maybe she could now begin to breathe properly again.

  Until Asa’s nasty little voice made her heart leap. “Knew you were trouble, bitch. Where you been?”

  The guard she had summoned stepped out from behind the door. “See this big fucking gun?” he said, waving it from left to right. “Answer her. Or it will make a real mess of that pretty little body.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Alicia struggled in the grip of her two captors. They had made the bonds on her wrists tight, but not enough to stop her blood flow. They held her upper arms firmly, bruisingly hard, but she knew she could take it. Dahl fought to make her move forward from the right, Hibiki from the left. When she didn’t move fast enough the Swede threw her up against a brick wall, pressing in close.

  “Quit it. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  Alicia, her face squashed by the brick, mumbled. “Oh, Torsty, what’s the first thing you think about when you have a girl up against a wall?”

  “Stop with that swaying. We’re here.”

  As Dahl pulled her away from the wall they saw the small squat building ahead, barely lit, its lobby shrouded in shadow and its upper floors completely black. No guards were in evidence, no human presence of any sort.

  Dahl propelled Alicia toward it. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Hibiki.”

  “My girlfriend and my friend are inside. So do I.”

  Though Karin had identified the Yakuza-owned building wherein Hibiki speculated the Yakuza preferred to admit their more ‘precious guests’, she had not been able to identify any entry protocols. That problem was left for Hibiki to deal with. Using the only cops he could trust in Kobe and one of their informants, he had been able to put together a good idea of the etiquette and procedure.

  But first he’d had to use the hours since Chika left to pass for a member of the Yakuza.

  Tattoos had been painted around his neck and on the backs of his hands. Behind his ears. Anywhere that the skin was exposed. The ink would resist water but wouldn’t exactly stand up to a good scrub. Despite his reservations, Hibiki was happy with the quality of the tats in the time they’d had available.

  Alicia had taken a picture on her cellphone. “For later,” she said. “For blackmail.”

  Now, they approached the barely illuminated frontage, a set of glass doors. Hibiki put his hand on the vertical, brushed metal handle and paused, looked up to the top right where a tiny, inconspicuous camera watched.

  He stared, dragging Alicia into view, and waited. After a long time the door clicked and Hibiki pulled it open.

  “Keep your mouths shut,” he whispered. “I’ll do all the talking.”

  Alicia wriggled in their grip. “Now you know that’s gonna be a problem. Never been one to—”

  Dahl pushed her so that she stumbled inside. Hibiki pulled. All three of them surveyed the quiet lobby as they walked across a polished floor toward an unmanned desk. If anyone was present they were certainly doing a good job of concealing themselves. Hibiki stopped at the desk, staring above it at a blank TV screen.

  Alicia knew what he was doing and took another moment to study the place. The area was about as mundane as an accountant’s weekly schedule. The likelihood was that many of the people who worked here didn’t realize what went on in the lower levels. Maybe during the day they even used a different entrance; this place did have a lower parking garage after all. Hanging her head, she switched her attention back to the front, now beginning to feel bored and about to say so.

  The TV screen flickered to life, a hard Asian face staring out at them without an ounce of emotion. “What is it?” he asked in Japanese.

  “Prisoner.” Hibiki clearly knew better than to elaborate by referencing the HQ. Such things were obvious.

  “Where you from?”

  “Tokyo.”

  The barest flicker of uncertainty. “Your boss?”

  “Rei,” he said, using information provided by his informant. Still, his heartbeat all but doubled.

  Alicia listened, understanding nothing but knowing Hibiki was swinging it rather close to the edge. She struggled. Dahl, possessing the same instincts, clubbed her over the head.

  “Be still now. There’s a good girl.”

  The activity distracted the impassive face. “And the Englishman?”

  Hibiki shrugged. “He’s . . . he used to work with her. It’s complicated.”

  “Go down. We’ll see you.”

  Another click an
d a door to their left swung wide open, a door they hadn’t even noticed was there. Set into the wall at the back of an alcove it was seamless and handle-less. Hibiki knew that the Yakuza weren’t at risk even now; this was but one layer of security—the real test would be conducted in private where imposters could more easily be made to disappear.

  Alicia allowed herself to be dragged through the door, down a set of stairs, past more CCTV cameras than she could count and onto a brand new level. Here, directly before them was another unmanned desk and a bank of elevators. The right side was already standing open. Hibiki ignored it and the desk and pressed the button on the left, another protocol successfully passed and now the guards must have gained at least an element of trust. They traveled down for thirty seconds and then the doors opened. Hibiki pushed her out first into a white glare.

  “Stop.”

  Down here it was different, more akin to the environment she preferred. The bright lights came from directly ahead and the shadows of men holding guns stood right before her. One of them stepped forward and lifted her chin.

  “Who is she?”

  “An informant’s girlfriend.” Hibiki chuckled.

  “Your plan is to use her to turn him back to us?”

  “That is for the boss to decide.” Hibiki shrugged. “I’m just a soldier. The informant has betrayed his family, our trust.” He gripped Alicia’s throat and then sighed, letting go. “Either way, she must not be harmed until he determines.”

  “Bad timing,” a man said. “The trial means you won’t be able to leave soon.”

  The Yakuza guard lifted his rifle and waved them past. Alicia blinked the glare from her eyes as the bright light dimmed. The area around her was basic, all plastic desks and hanging bulbs. Open packets of food lay on the tables, some upturned, and a deck of playing cards. Coins stood in piles everywhere. Men sat around, hard-faced and smoking or toying with their handguns. A hundred comments came to mind but she bit her tongue, struggling to keep them down.

  Damn, now there’s a first. Maybe it is time to start making that change.

  But not today. Never today. Her vision finally fully returned, she spied a heavy door behind the men and a keypad set against the wall. They were close. But still the Yakuza weren’t pacified.