The memory was the last thing she held before her world crashed down.
Chapter 31
The only way back into the embassy was the way he had come—through the tunnel. Dallas flew down the escape hatch, raced the long subway line, and hit the platform leading up the world’s highest staircase. The climb was brutal. His lungs were on fire, and his muscles raged in protest. He refused to stop until he reached the door to the parking garage.
There, he leaned against the wall, heart pounding and fighting to catch his breath. It wouldn’t do for security cameras to spot a frantic, staggering intruder rushing for the freight elevators.
He would find her. If it was the last thing he did on this earth, he would find her and get her to safety. Then he was going to do something about Cho.
His breathing still came labored, but he couldn’t wait any longer. He walked out the door and into the parking garage with as much calm as he could fake. Without raising an alarm, he made his way to the control van and climbed inside.
“About damn time, Landry,” the professor said as he stood in front of his laptop pounding keys. He stopped long enough to give him a frown of concern. “What happened? Where is she?”
“The Yakuza, Ken Cho, Shimshi, whatever you call them, they have her.” He couldn’t stand to hear the words. The sense of overwhelming panic they inspired threatened to tear him apart.
“How? What’s down there?” Adam snapped but then immediately returned to the keyboard.
“Subway tunnel. There’s an escape shaft a few blocks down on this street.”
Traffic cam views filled the monitor, and the professor began scrolling. “Did you see the vehicle make and model? Get a tag number?”
“No, dammit, it was dark!” He paced in the tiny confines of the van, closed his eyes, and forced the taillight memory forward. “SUV, I think.”
“Did they come this way?”
He shook his head. “No, other direction.”
Thumbnail images rolled across the screen. “Damn them all,” the professor snarled. “There’s not a single traffic cam in this area. Stupid international security concerns.”
“Speaking of concerns…” Layla joined them in the van. “We should leave. Things are getting ugly upstairs. Security is all over Ken Cho’s suite, and his people are demanding something be done about the theft of a priceless artifact.”
Dallas glanced over at Adam. “It’s safely hidden?”
The professor pointed to the floorboards under the shelves. “Secret compartment. You two drive, I’ll be back here, putting an all-points bulletin out on my network.”
Layla wiggled the keys. “I’ll drive. Maybe I can sweet talk our way out of the gate.”
With a quick nod, Dallas turned to the professor and pointed to the earpiece he still wore. “This connection is still open?”
“Yep,” Adam replied. “I’ll let you know if I learn anything.”
They climbed out, and Dallas secured the cargo door. He came around the van and climbed into the passenger seat. “Ram the gate if you have to,” he said as he straightened his fake uniform shirt, donned a ball cap, then sunglasses to hide his features.
Layla eased the van out of the parking garage and up to the exit where the heavy wrought iron gate sealed them in.
A security officer immediately approached. “No one leaves,” he said.
Layla gave him bright smile. “Understandable,” she replied. “But we work for Mathis Howe. With the exhibit opening in a couple short hours, he’s sending us for his best artifacts to help fill the void of Mr. Cho’s stolen contribution.” She shook her head in abject sadness. “Such a shame. No place is safe anymore. Not even a protected embassy.”
“Open the back please,” the officer demanded.
“Of course,” she agreed and opened her door.
She looked back at Dallas with a barely perceptible nod. He got the message and hit the comm in his ear. “Incoming.”
He stayed put while she charmed the guard. When it came to blindsiding a guy with distraction, Layla’s skill was impossible to beat. He’d only interfere.
He kept the comm open so he could hear the exchange. It began pleasant enough, but then the guard demanded to examine the contents of the boxes and crates. Layla’s voice turned beguiling, then cajoling. It only served to make the guard more belligerent. An argument began. Then he heard a thump.
“Layla?” he said quietly.
“A little help, Dallas,” she said through the comm.
He got out of the van and calmly moved to the back. She and the professor were trussing up the unconscious guard with binding rope stolen off the crates.
“Don’t tell me you finally found someone immune to your charms?” he asked her.
“Someone besides you, you mean?” She’d torn a cotton work shirt into long strips and was gagging their new prisoner. “The professor and I have this under control. Be a dear and go open the gate for us. We need to leave.”
The clipboard lay on the floor near the cargo doors. Dallas grabbed it and flipped pages as he walked to the guard shack. He rapped twice on the door.
The second the other guard cracked opened the door, Dallas struck. He rammed the portal, knocking the man back against the wall in the process. One punch to the jaw, and the guard slid down the wall, then slumped over, out cold.
Within seconds, Dallas found the button and activated the gate. It took effort to heft the guard over his shoulder and carry him to the van, but he couldn’t leave him to sound the alarm.
“Tie him with his friend,” Dallas said as he dumped him in the back.
“I’m on it,” the professor said. “Get us out of here.”
They hurried to the front and wasted no time pulling away from the embassy.
“Want to tell me what happened back there?” Layla asked him. “Where is Riki?”
Dallas pointed her to take a right, toward the escape shaft and the Mercedes. “One of Cho’s men escaped out the window with Phantom Pearl, and I went after him.” Something vibrated in his pocket, and he pulled out Riki’s cell phone. “Unfortunately, Riki was still in the room. She was ambushed and drugged while I had my hands full fighting two Yakuza soldiers.”
Reika…where are you?
Menita was in Singapore. Dallas had almost forgotten.
“What is it?” Layla asked.
“Riki’s employer made contact. He’s the reason we’re in this mess.”
It was time to meet the man face to face. Menita had some explaining to do, but more than that, he was the only link Dallas had to the men who kidnapped Riki.
“I need a meeting place. Public but private. Any ideas?”
Layla thought for a second. “Fort Canning Park on River Valley Road. It’s in the business district. Lots of gardens, paved walkways, and a lighthouse south of the pond.”
It would do. Riki had an iPhone. That meant he could reply to an individual text from the notification screen without having to go through passcodes. He wouldn’t be able to access the full message app, or maneuver anywhere other than the single response screen, but it would be enough. Dallas tapped the activation button on Riki’s phone, and the text notification appeared. A long tap on the message and he was typing a reply.
Meet me at Fort Canning Park. Lighthouse on south side. One hour.
Dallas tapped his ear comm. “Five-minute warning. We’re going to trade vehicles,” he said to Adam. Then to Layla, “Turn right in another block. We need to ditch this high-profile van for the Mercedes.”
She pulled over beneath the wide canopy of a madras thorn tree, directly across from the professor’s car. Dallas jumped out and quickly rounded to the back. The professor was ready when he unlatched the cargo bay door. He shoved the Pearl’s case at Dallas, then jumped down.
“How are the passengers?” Layla asked.
Dallas lifted a handgun, checked the safety, then tucked it into his waistband. The two extra clips he slid into his pockets. Then they got busy transferring from van to car. It took less than two minutes. The professor slid into the back seat where he could spread out his equipment, and Layla took the wheel.
Riki’s phone buzzed in his hand. A response from Menita. Will see you there.
An hour. That was all the time he had to come up with a plan, and the only thing he had to go on was a crushing sense of urgency.
“We’re going to need some backup. Professor, you got another friend or two with tactical skills and a willingness to look the other way?”
“That describes every friend I have,” he replied. “I’ll make a few phone calls.”
Dallas had no idea how many they’d be going up against, but he’d amass an entire army if he had to. He’d do whatever it took to find Riki.
“Tell me,” Layla said as she turned onto Nassim Road toward the city center. “We have the Pearl. We work for the FBI, and they are the one’s paying for this mission. We can take it to safety right now. Instead, we’re mounting a rescue operation for someone on the agency’s watch list. What would Jane Lassiter say about that?”
There was no question. The boss lady would demand they secure the target first. But he didn’t care. There wasn’t time for that. Riki was in the hands of Shimshi, and odds of her survival were grim. Nothing was more important than getting her to safety. Certainly not his job, not even the fate of a priceless artifact.
“Lassiter doesn’t know we have the Pearl,” he said. “I haven’t exactly reported in.”
“They’ve noticed. Lassiter has called me twice.”
They’d called him, too. He hadn’t answered. There’d be a price to pay for that later, but he refused to listen to their demands, not with Riki’s life at stake. “What have you told them?”
“Enough to keep them at bay,” she replied. “But they aren’t happy.”
Join the club. He wasn’t either.
Riki’s phone vibrated again. Do you have the Pearl?
Anger washed through him. She was in enemy hands thanks to Menita. He sold out her father, then her, all to save his own worthless ass. When this was over, he had a score to settle with the bastard.
Yes. We need to talk.
Let him stew on that for the next—he glanced at his watch—forty minutes.
The professor was on the phone, rounding up a strike team, and all he could do was wait. He raked a hand through his hair. Thinking of her in Cho’s hands bothered him. Hell, it practically made him sick. He needed action, desperately needed Riki safe. He meant what he told Cho’s lackey that night at the Sovereign. If she’d been harmed in any way, Dallas would deliver a day of reckoning. He’d burn the entire organization to the ground.
“You love her, don’t you?” Layla’s question caught him by surprise. “You’ve loved her for a long time.”
He wasn’t sure how to answer. Yes, he loved her. Loved the way her smile lit up her face. Loved how her laugh transformed the usual seriousness of her expression. He loved the way she walked and carried herself with quiet confidence. Couldn’t get enough of the way she kissed and lost herself in passion.
He even loved her steadfast sense of loyalty. She’d caused him no end of grief at the agency, but she’d been fascinating. She pushed the edge of the law, but had an inherent sense of right and wrong, a guiding compass that held her to treat people fairly.
She was intriguing, captivating, and he wanted more. A lot more.
Confiding that in Layla, a woman whose advances he’d constantly spurred, didn’t exactly fall in the smart category. He opted for safe. “Homeland Security wouldn’t like to hear that kind of admission.”
“Contrary to what you might think, I believe in love, Dallas Landry.”
This was a side of Layla he hadn’t seen before. He’d only known the aggravating, skilled, and talented coworker. He wasn’t sure how to respond to this new version.
“I’m going to find Riki,” he finally said. “I’m not leaving her to handle this on her own.”
“She loves you,” Layla said quietly.
“She tell you that?”
“Not specifically, but she didn’t have to. It’s there for anyone to see.”
“I can see it,” Adam said from the backseat. “And I only just met her.”
“We’re going to win this thing, Dallas,” Layla said. “We’ll get her back. Even if we have to give up that treasure in the back seat.”
“I hope you aren’t talking about me,” Adam joked.
“Not one member of this team is expendable,” Dallas replied. He meant it. He wasn’t suffering another loss.
The entrance to Fort Canning Park stood out under the glow of streetlights. They’d arrived.
Time to face Menita.
Chapter 32
For the second time that day, Riki woke from unconsciousness. Her throat ached, and she tried to swallow past the pain. It didn’t work. Every muscle protested against hours spent lying on the concrete floor. She wanted to stretch, or rollover, anything to get some relief. But she didn’t move. Didn’t want an alarm going up that she’d returned to the land of the living.
Instead, she listened. It was deathly quiet, nothing stirred, no voices or telltale shuffling of clothing. She expanded her senses farther and heard a distant horn signaling the arrival of an oceangoing vessel. Then a faint metallic clang of dockside equipment. She was near an industrial pier.
That was the good news. The bad news was Singapore was the second busiest port in the world. Thousands of ships dropped anchor here, and there were dozens of industrial cargo handling facilities, in all shapes and sizes. Without knowing how long she’d been out the first time, she could be anywhere along Singapore Island’s vast coastline.
She opened her eyes. Nothing had changed. She lay on the concrete floor, hands still taped to the cot above her head. She tried to move, but her muscles protested, and her bare arms had grown cold.
“Hello,” she managed to croak.
No answer. She tried again to move and managed to pull her knees up and roll over. The new position gave her a little maneuverability, but she had yet to sit up and was already breathing heavy with exertion. Heavens, even the slightest effort cost her. She needed to get it together.
She tugged on the tape restraints and suddenly realized the phone remained trapped between her wrists. Adrenaline surged, giving her the strength to rest on her knees and pull the cot closer.
“Hello,” she called out again. Her throat was sore and talking hurt, but she didn’t care. No one answered.
Between wriggling her palms, pushing with her nose, and using her teeth to bite at the corner of the phone, she managed to work it into her hands, all while praying the older smart phone wasn’t passcode protected. She used the side of her thumb to activate it and nearly wept with relief when the screen popped to life. A number, she needed a number! Would this thing even allow an international call?
She could call Kai, but would he come? He wanted the Pearl. She didn’t have it. She was only going to get one chance to make a call and she wanted Dallas. She took a deep breath and tried to recall his number. Her brain still felt fuzzy, and she couldn’t remember the sequence. Area code, yes, last four, yes, but the middle? What was the middle? She wanted to scream in frustration.
Her number. She had dropped her phone in the struggle. Had Dallas found it? Please, please, let him have found it. She dialed her own number.
“Landry.”
Thank God! �
��Dallas,” she croaked.
“Riki?” His voice sounded like pure heaven. “Riki, where are you?”
“Not sure. An industrial pier. I hear ships.” She had to force the words past the pain in her throat. “A giant warehouse.”
“What’s wrong with your voice? Are you hurt?”
“No…yes. Drug overdose. It’s Cho. He wants the Pearl. And Kai.”
“He can have them both. I’m thirty seconds from meeting Menita right now.”
“No—I—”
“What’s your phone passcode?” he demanded.
She gave it to him, then heard the electronic tones as he punched it in. A second later he shouted out a number. “Ping the towers,” Dallas yelled. “Find that phone!”
“Professor?” she asked.
“Yes. I’ll have your location soon, Riki. Just hold on.”
“Dallas, I—”
The phone was snatched out of her hands and a foot kicked her sideways. She hit the ground as Cho stood beside her, glancing at the phone before he tapped the screen.
He’d put it on speaker and held it out in front of him. “I warned you, federal agent.”
“You’re a dead man, Cho.”
Riki crawled off the cold concrete and collapsed onto the busted cot, not even caring that she lay on top of a mangled aluminum frame. When her strength returned, she intended to give this bastard a taste of his own medicine.
“I have something you want,” Cho said. “You have something I want. We need to transact a little business.”
“You can have Phantom Pearl. It’s yours. But if she’s hurt, I promise to turn your life into absolute hell. You understand that?” An edge of steel marked his words.
“Let’s not fall into a threat match. I’ll win. Now, I do require the treasure, but there’s more.”
“Isn’t a priceless antiquity enough?” Dallas snapped.
“Revenge is far sweeter when paired with the humiliation of your enemy. I want it delivered by Kai Menita.”
Phantom Pearl Page 26