The eighteen year old couldn’t be further from the programmer stereotype. Not only was Nicole female, but six feet tall, athletic and stunningly beautiful. The brown skinned Oriental woman wore her hair long, split across the shoulders of her official looking, royal blue business suit. Like all women Dragonsoft employees, Nicole was discouraged from working in trousers. Her ankle length skirt kept her thighs covered, but with her good looks and soft blue eyes, she was still a temptation to many of her male colleagues. If Nicole wasn’t the company president’s daughter, she’d be the most popular date in the building.
Nicole greeted her receptionist with a cheerful smile. “Morning, Rebecca.”
“Hey, Nicole. Some crazy biker chick left this for you.” Rebecca indicated an envelope on her desk. “Actually, we’re indicated with psycho ladies this morning. See this weird e-mail I just got?”
Nicole stepped behind the reception desk, collecting the envelope en route. She followed the secretary’s gaze to a pop-up window on her computer screen. The typeface was small, and Nicole had to squint to read it. “Better brush up on your hacking skills, Silica,” she dictated. The sender’s name was Jade, and the domain name obviously bogus.
“Enlightening, huh?” Rebecca clicked the e-mail delete icon, and bellowed at her monitor. “Doh! Stupid bitch. You can’t even get my name right. It’s Rebecca, dumb ass.”
“We’re in the geek business,” Nicole said. “Weirdos come with the territory. Are you sure it’s a girl you’re shouting at?”
“Who the hell knows? Or even cares. So, what’s your secret admirer got to say?”
Nicole tore open the envelope and inspected its contents. Photographs showed her father onstage at the convention center. She flicked through the extensive album, keeping the pictures close to her chest so Rebecca couldn’t see. The final images were of Toshigi chained up in a warehouse. A typed note stapled to the last photo stated the kidnapper’s terms: 200,000 Dollars. 3526 Bayside. One hour from now. Come alone. Or he dies.
Nicole’s hands trembled. “When did you get this?” she asked.
“About ten minutes ago.” Concern lined Rebecca’s face. “Why? Everything all right? What does it say?”
“I have to make a delivery,” Nicole said, deliberately evading her secretary’s question. “If anyone asks, I haven’t come in yet. Got it?”
“You’re the boss.”
***
Ten minutes later, Nicole was navigating grid locked city streets. Morning rush hour was in full swing, and other drivers showed no mercy. Nicole’s flashy silver corvette was perfectly capable of exceeding a hundred miles per hour, but she was lucky to top twenty. She chose the shortest, most direct route she could think of: east along Market Street towards the Financial District. Somewhere ahead, the Sun was rising over the horizon, still low in the sky at this early hour. Thankfully, tall skyscrapers blotted out the blinding light. It was difficult enough to make progress without additional hazards to contend with.
Nicole checked her clock radio. Less than three quarters of an hour remained before the deadline. Taking no chances, she veered into the opposite lane, jumped the queue, and cut across a car waiting at an intersection ahead. Fellow motorists sounded their horns and yelled profanities, but Nicole hadn’t finished with her crazy maneuvers. She took advantage of a break in traffic, accelerated through a red light, and made a hard left turn. Her bank was two blocks to the north, in the shadow of the TransAmerica Pyramid.
Nicole parked in a restricted zone, glancing in her rear view mirror. She’d broken numerous laws on the way from the office, but somehow avoided attracting police attention. Nicole breathed a sigh of relief. Dealing with the cops would have been tricky. The toughest leg of her journey was over, but she couldn’t rest easy. There was a strong possibility a traffic camera had photographed her license plate, or some frustrated motorist had made a report. If so, a squad car wouldn’t be far away. Nicole calmed her nerves, got out of her corvette, and walked into the bank.
While Nagoya Savings didn’t have a client list to rival mainstream American institutions, more than ten thousand people held accounts there, including Nicole, her father, and a high percentage of his associates. Many had valuables stashed in safety deposit boxes on the vault floor below. Even in the lobby security was airtight. Closed circuit cameras monitored every cubic inch of the room, and a uniformed guard stood by the entrance, automatic pistol holstered by his hip. Like the majority of the staff, the man was of Japanese descent. He was young, hawk-eyed and in excellent shape, a strong deterrent to potential criminals.
Nicole nodded an unspoken greeting to the guard, and approached the teller counters. The bank had only been open for business a few minutes, so she had her pick of assistants. Nicole chose the odd woman out: a pale-faced American in her late twenties. An infrared motion sensor detected Nicole as she stepped up to the armored glass window, and a camera swiveled to point at her face. She smiled at the lens, trying to appear relaxed.
“Can I help you?” asked the woman behind the counter.
Nicole took a deep breath then replied, “Yes. I’d like to make a withdrawal.”
“Name and account number, please.”
The teller held her fingers over a computer keyboard in readiness, but Nicole’s attention was transfixed on an electronic ticker board above the window. Time was running out.
“Miss?” The teller waited until she got Nicole’s attention. “Name and account number?”
“Nicole Tasoto. Four seven nine, three six two.”
As the bank clerk entered the details, Nicole took the opportunity to look around. Besides her, there were five other customers. One in particular caught her eye: an old woman dressed in a tracksuit and dark glasses. The hunchbacked crone smiled at Nicole, and shuffled her Zimmer frame to a leaflet stand.
“Everything okay, Miss Tasoto?” inquired the cashier. “You seem kinda nervous. Is there something I should know about?”
Nicole whispered a hoarse reply over her shoulder. “I’m fine. Could you hurry up, please?” She was more concerned with tracking the old woman’s movements.
“Certainly. How much would you like to withdraw?”
Nicole faced the window, pressed her face close to the glass, and started to speak. Then she stopped. The woman was already suspicious. How would she react to such an unorthodox request? The teller frowned with impatience.
Nicole had stalled long enough. “Two hundred thousand dollars,” she said. “In twenty dollar bills. Will that be a problem?”
The woman hesitated, appearing to sense the anxiety in Nicole’s voice. “I don’t know. This isn’t exactly normal.”
Nicole was in no mind to argue. “The account’s in my name, right? It’s my money. Just get it ready.”
“Since you’re asking to withdraw such a large amount in cash, I’ll have to clear it with the manager first.”
The woman reached for a phone receiver.
“No! Wait!” blurted Nicole.
Her loud outburst got the teller’s attention, and several other peoples’ too. Almost everyone turned to stare in Nicole’s direction, including the old woman with the Zimmer frame. Suspecting there was something amiss, the security guard instinctively went for his gun. To Nicole’s relief, the teller raised her hand to let him know everything was okay, and he stood down. Now the excitement had passed, the other customers went about their normal business.
“Mind telling me what’s going on?” The cashier spoke in the same, polite voice as before, acting like nothing had happened.
“I can’t,” Nicole said. “Don’t you understand? It might put you in danger, too. She could be in the bank, watching us right now.”
The girl shook her head, confused. “She?”
“The crazy woman who sent me the note,” said Nicole, wide eyed with fear.
She knelt down and pretended to tie her shoelace while seeking out the old woman. Once again the hunchback responded with a grin. Nicole broke eye contact with
her, stood up, and pressed her palms against the teller’s window. She was perspiring so heavily her fingers steamed up the glass.
“Just help me,” Nicole pleaded. “Talk to your manager if you have to, but hurry. It’s my father. The woman who sent the message said she’d kill him if I didn’t do as she said.”
“Kidnapping. Shouldn’t we call the police?”
“No! The note said to bring the money alone.”
The teller nodded and grabbed her phone receiver. Nicole had trouble seeing the number the woman dialed since the buttons were slanted away, but she was reasonably certain the call was to an internal extension.
“Put me through to Mister Miyahara,” the teller said. “Well, interrupt his meeting. This is urgent.” The cashier turned away and lowered her voice. Nicole overheard snippets of the subsequent conversation. “…customer out here. She needs two hundred… don’t have time… I realize what I’m asking… Yes, I think this might be…”
After yapping for a whole minute, the teller replaced the receiver and faced Nicole. “The manager’s getting your money ready now.”
Nicole saw an old Asian man through a partially open door behind the teller’s window. He worked quickly, stocking a leather satchel with banded wads of cash. It seemed the bank staff were responding to her request, but progress was painfully slow. Nicole tapped her fingers impatiently on the counter.
“We’re being as quick as possible,” the teller assured her.
“I don’t have all day, damn it,” Nicole said. “The note specifically stated—”
“Stated what? Miss Tasoto?”
Nicole wasn’t listening. A handsome, clean-shaven man who’d just walked into the bank had caught her eye. The new arrival looked to be in his late twenties. Given he wore a trendy suit, pressed trousers and black polished shoes, Nicole suspected he was something of a ladies’ man. He talked briefly with the security guard and flashed his wallet. There was no subtlety whatsoever in the man’s approach. His shiny detective’s badge was clear for all to see.
The policeman said something to the guard, and headed straight towards Nicole. She could smell his aftershave from twelve feet away, and his wavy, light brown hair glistened with traces of gel.
Nicole shot the teller a hateful glance. “I told you not to call the police.”
The teller backed away, shocked at Nicole’s sudden display of anger. She looked to the detective for assistance.
“Calm down, Miss Tasoto,” the young man intervened. “She wasn’t the one who called us. That was dispatch. Your father’s missing, but it seems you already knew that.”
The man opened his wallet, and presented his police badge to Nicole. She glared at him, not at all impressed.
“Nicole,” he said. “I’m Detective Kyle Travis.”
Chapter Three: Time to Die
When the call from dispatch came in, Detective Kyle Travis was supping his morning Cappuccino at Le Cafe Tolnier. The croissants, pastries and baguettes on sale were pricier than fast food, but Kyle preferred French cuisine to the unhealthy breakfasts served in diners and burger bars. While takeaway joints were popular among other homicide cops, they were a little low market for Kyle’s tastes, and he generally found the bakery’s customers to be more refined and sociable.
Kyle was getting to know a young, blonde waitress when his partner showed up. Detective Lakeysia Symons was a veteran police officer in her late thirties. As her forename suggested, she was African American. Despite two years on the force together, Kyle’s fashion sense hadn’t rubbed off. The slightly obese, round faced woman wore a creased, long sleeved shirt, a cheap jacket, jeans and tattered boots. Her charcoal black hair was a mess, with an old elastic band securing her ponytail.
“See you’re making fine use of taxpayers’ money,” Lakeysia said. “He proposed to you yet, darlin’?”
Kyle had worked with Lakeysia long enough to know not to respond to her cynical jibes. The waitress wasn’t so used to her confrontational style. She watched flabbergasted as the scruffy woman slurped her soda, drinking from a can she’d purchased elsewhere.
“Loitering isn’t permitted,” the waitress told Lakeysia bluntly. “And neither is bringing in beverages from outside. I’m sorry miss, but you’ll have to order something from the menu or leave.”
Lakeysia shrugged and dumped her empty can on the table. “No time for that. Detective Travis and I are on duty.”
“Detective?”
Apparently the waitress wasn’t too thrilled with the idea of flirting with a police officer. Kyle cursed inwardly. He’d hoped to keep his profession secret.
As usual, Lakeysia couldn’t resist poking fun at Kyle’s expense. “Yeah,” she said, flashing her badge and handcuffs. “Take it you didn’t see the car parked out front? Don’t sweat it. Travis prefers beauty over brains. Sure he’ll make room for you on his calendar. He tell you about that? Most have just one busty girl a month, but Travis’ is special. It’s got one for every day of the year.”
“Suppose you think you’re funny,” snorted the waitress. “And that being a cop gives you the right to boss me around.”
The girl was putting up a brave fight, but Lakeysia came right back at her. “You’re welcome to stand in. Can’t say I’m looking forward to studying a blood-spattered corpse or chasing the wacko who sliced him in two. Since you’re so tough and smart, I can give you all the gory details and let you figure out who did it. I’ll stay here, wait tables all day. Fine by me.”
Realizing she was out of her depth, the waitress left the two detectives alone. Kyle finished his coffee,watching her serve another man across the room. Accepting their brief relationship was over, he left the girl a generous tip.
“Who’s the victim?” Kyle asked, getting to his feet.
Lakeysia filled him in on the way out. “Asian, mid fifties. Far as forensics can tell, he was a limousine driver or valet. Matthews is waiting for us at Fifth Street garage.”
“No positive ID?”
“Not yet,” Lakeysia replied grimly. “They’re still looking for the guy’s head.”
***
Kyle rode alongside his partner in silence. It wasn’t the cafeteria incident that bothered him. Lakeysia’s rude interruptions of his social life were a frequent occurrence, and when it came to girls there were plenty of other fish in the sea. No, it was the job that was wearing him down.
Having spent five years patrolling the streets before making detective in September, Kyle was no stranger to the darker side of human nature. But now he worked for Homicide Division, the eyes of a fresh corpse would stare vacantly back at him every other day. More often than not, those eyes belonged to a pretty young female. Whenever Kyle got called to a crime scene, he dreaded recognizing the victim’s face. Thankfully he didn’t know too many Asian men, so the chances of that happening this time were remote. Still, Kyle regretted having a full stomach given what Lakeysia had told him. Even she was more subdued than usual. Neither of them relished searching a decapitated torso for clues.
The flashing light Kyle had placed on the unmarked car’s dashboard made most commuters move out of their way, but there was limited space for Lakeysia to maneuver, and the city streets were heavily congested.
Shortly after they passed the halfway point, the police radio crackled into life. “Fourteen eleven, please respond.” The female dispatcher’s voice was interlaced with static.
Kyle snatched the radio before Lakeysia could beat him to it. If nothing else, it helped break up the tedium. “This is fourteen eleven,” he acknowledged. “Over.”
“Report to a potential ransom situation at Nagoya Savings Bank, located at the corner of Montgomery and Sacramento.”
“What’s this shit?” Kyle said. “We’re homicide, not kidnap specialists.” He was tired, frustrated, and not in the mood for some fool’s errand.
“Lieutenant’s orders. The Fifth Street garage victim has been identified as Kenji Fajitsu.”
Kyle mouthed a hushed repl
y. “Big deal,” he muttered before continuing aloud. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Fajitsu was employed by Toshigi Tasoto,” the dispatcher informed them, “the president of Dragonsoft. That’s the videogame company. According to the family maid, Tasoto never returned home last night. Indications are he’s been abducted.”
Lakeysia covered the radio. “And they figured that out all by themselves. Don’t you just love the lady’s brevity?”
“His bank manager reported a suspicious transaction,” said the dispatcher. “By Tasoto’s daughter Nicole.”
Kyle sat up straight, taking a sudden interest. Lakeysia leaned closer. “Try and say no now,” she whispered.
“Tell the manager to stall for time,” Kyle instructed dispatch. “We’re en route to the bank.”
He and Lakeysia were in luck. Nagoya Savings was less than three blocks away, sparing them the potential nightmare of traversing half the city. His partner made good time, thanks to a lull in traffic along the final stretch.
Kyle studied the building while Lakeysia parked across the street. “You stay out front,” he said, unbuckling his seat belt. “It’s probably best if I talked to the girl.”
Lakeysia grabbed Kyle’s shoulder. “Watch your back,” she cautioned. “If this is a kidnapping, who’s to say the daughter’s not involved somehow?”
Kyle shrugged her off. “And who’s to say she is?”
“She might be pretty, but that doesn’t make her an angel. Until we know for sure, treat her as a suspect.”
For once Lakeysia was serious, but her words of wisdom were quickly forgotten once Kyle entered the bank and laid eyes on Nicole. The president’s daughter needed no introduction. She stood by a cashier’s window, literally shaking with fear. The manager had followed police instructions, and was in no hurry to count her money.
Jade Dragon (Action Girl Thrillers) Page 3
