Shaded oriental lanterns cast a faint glow across Jade’s private bedroom. Even in the dim green light, the polished blade of her katana gleamed in its support stand. The centerpiece of the killer’s inner sanctum was a king sized bed furnished with sheets to match her favorite color scheme. Its four wooden corner posts were carved to resemble dragon scales, not dissimilar in design to those on the hilt of her sword. Other than that, the only furnishings were a computer desk, wardrobe and vanity table. The remaining space was occupied by bar bells and exercise machines.
When her telephone rang, Jade was practicing karate punches on a dummy strung from the ceiling. The plastic cover was ripped in multiple places. Torn newspaper clippings plastered the mannequin’s body, with parts of Toshigi’s face visible on the sweat smeared scraps. The shredded article was a review of one of Jade’s early games. Naturally there had been no mention of her in the text.
A quick glance at the answering machine’s screen revealed the caller’s identity. Jade could have taken the call there and then, but Randall would have to wait until she’d finished. The woman focused on her target, leapt in the air, and knocked the final news clipping away with a spinning kick. Satisfied with her morning workout, Jade sat at her vanity table and activated the speakerphone.
“Suzanne.” Randall referred to Jade by the alias she’d given him. “I wanted to offer you my congratulations on a job well done.”
He masked his anxiety well, but Jade wasn’t so easily fooled. Her co-conspirator’s voice was calm and composed, but she could hear nervous, pacing footsteps in the background. Something was on Randall’s mind.
“I’d prefer it if you called me Jade from now on.” The killer smiled at herself in the mirror, then followed up on a hunch. “Don’t let the police concern you.”
“Police?”
Randall’s shaky response verified Jade’s suspicions. She pictured him sweating on the other end of the line.
“Don’t play dumb. I know everything,” the killer said, brushing her hair. “With all you stand to gain from Toshigi’s death, you’re the obvious prime suspect. But that’s why you accepted my offer. I do the dirty work while you have breakfast in bed with Asuka.” She allowed him a moment to contemplate then continued, “Like I said, I know everything.”
“You got your revenge, didn’t you?”
“And you got your money,” Jade reminded him. “A satisfactory mutual arrangement. I hope I didn’t underestimate you, Randall. You’ve spent your whole life telling lies and getting cold-blooded murderers off the hook. Is it so difficult to give yourself a watertight alibi?”
“The detective who came to see me. She’s smart. Don’t underestimate her.”
Jade paused for a second to powder her face. “A woman? That should make things interesting. Every good game needs a worthy opponent, and men are so easy to manipulate.”
“Are you manipulating me?” Randall phrased the question as bluntly as possible.
Jade lifted her katana from its stand. “Decapitation is a quick and painless way to die,” she said, filing her fingernails on the sword blade. “Far preferable to being roasted alive. The chauffeur was nothing more than an inconvenience, an obstacle in my way. I had no great desire to see him suffer. Toshigi… Now, he screwed me over. Can you imagine how it must feel to suffocate from the stench of your own burning skin? Think about that before you show the recording to the police.”
“Re— Recording? What recording?” stuttered Randall, though it was obvious he knew exactly what Jade was referring to.
“The one you’re making right now. I know everything, remember? Don’t call me again. Unless you have more dirty laundry, in which case I’d be happy to help you with the clean up. It’s one thing I’m very good at.”
Jade terminated the call, and checked her own digital record of their conversation. Like her, Randall had taken out an insurance policy, a bargaining chip to use in the event of capture or betrayal. But that didn’t worry Jade. She knew the attorney well enough to predict his every move. He would remain silent, in hope he could somehow blackmail her later. And if Randall did go to the police, he wouldn’t be able to tell them anything about his partner in crime. Not even her real name.
Chapter Five: Safely Back Home
Pacific Heights could be described as a private country club for San Francisco’s wealthy elite. Sprawling mansion estates dominated the hilly landscape, segregated from the outside world by wrought iron perimeter fences. Backyard swimming pools were the rule rather than the exception, while conservatories, mosaic patios and hedge mazes were not an uncommon sight. These luxury homes were the ultimate status symbol. Price quotes invariably ran into seven figures, and nothing short of a jackpot lottery win, powerful family connections or significant financial success would grant a person entry into this exclusive arena.
What most impressed Kyle was how Toshigi had done things the hard way. The videogame legend had amassed the funds to purchase such a beautiful residence through sheer hard work and dedication, building his empire from scratch. Toshigi had named his daughter the primary beneficiary, and while the orphaned child could never consider the house and its grounds compensation for her loss, he’d certainly left Nicole an impressive legacy. The buildings were an eye-pleasing blend of eastern and western cultures. In front of the Victorian style mansion was a modern garage with space for four vehicles, while the rear garden’s main feature was a Japanese dojo supported on wooden stilts.
Kyle felt uneasy parking next to Nicole’s silver corvette. Unmarked police vehicles were built for handling, speed and endurance, but there was no denying his ride looked hopelessly cheap and shabby by comparison. He straightened his shirt collar and stepped onto the gravel driveway. The front porch was bordered with topiary hedges, but instead of animal figures, the leaves were shaped into Japanese alphabet characters. Kyle had no idea what the message said, but he assumed it was some form of welcome greeting. He only hoped Nicole would show him the same hospitality.
At the crime scene, the girl had made it perfectly clear she blamed Kyle for what happened to her father. It was a natural reaction for Nicole to hold the police responsible, and her psychological wounds would probably heal over time. Still, Kyle wasn’t happy about questioning the distraught daughter so soon after Toshigi’s death.
The detective swallowed deep, quelled his apprehensions, and rang the doorbell. A series of high-pitched notes sounded beyond the oak paneled threshold. The bell’s button doubled as an eye of a blackened steel figurehead, a fancy ornament modeled after Dragonsoft’s company logo. A brass knocker ring was supported between its teeth, and the second eye was a peephole lens. Kyle saw blurred flashes of pink and white through the murky glass. Somebody was weighing him up. Whoever the mystery person was, they seemed reluctant to let the detective inside.
“Yes?” It was a woman who’d answered, but Kyle didn’t recognize the voice.
He held his police shield up to the peephole and gave the standard introduction. “Detective Kyle Travis. Homicide.”
That seemed to satisfy her. Keys were turned, chains unhooked, and bolts cranked back. Kyle counted seven locking mechanisms in total before the servant woman finally opened the door. Security was high, but Nicole had every reason to be cautious.
The family maid was a plump faced, rose cheeked brunette who looked eighteen but was probably closer to twenty-five. Her dress was the standard black uniform with matching shoes and stockings. She wore her hair tied in a bun beneath her white cap, and carried an assortment of cleaning utensils in the front pocket of her apron.
“I’m Sarah,” she said. The maid beckoned Kyle inside and closed the door after him. “You must be the man who called earlier.”
“Yes. That’s right,” he confirmed.
Kyle had phoned ahead, concerned a surprise appearance might have offended Nicole to the point she refused to talk. Then he’d have no option but to drag the girl back to the precinct, which would only upset her further. Kyle would ra
ther interview Nicole in the comfort and safety of her own living room. She’d been through enough already.
“I feel so horrible for Miss Tasoto,” said Sarah. “Losing her father like that. Do you have any idea who could have done such a thing?”
“Forgive me,” Kyle apologized. “I’m not at liberty to discuss the case. Actually, that’s why I’m here. If she’s feeling up to it, I’d like to ask Nicole a few questions.”
“Miss Tasoto’s resting in the library,” the maid informed him. “Come on in. She’s been expecting you. You’re welcome to wear your shoes inside, but kindly wipe your feet on the mat.”
Kyle obeyed Sarah’s instructions, and followed her through the entrance hall. It was a vast, forty-foot high chamber decorated with marble columns, samurai statues and oriental themed portraits. In keeping with Japanese tradition, the wooden floor tiles were mostly bare. A spiral staircase wound upwards towards the private suites, while the rooms around the hall were accessible through sliding panel doors.
Sarah took the lead. She led Kyle to the left, slid open one such door, and accompanied him into the library. “Miss Tasoto,” she announced. “There’s a gentleman to see you.”
Nicole swiveled round to face Kyle as he entered. To his relief, she greeted him with a smile. “Detective Travis. Thank you for coming,” she said, then addressed the maid. “It’s okay, Sarah. Brew us some coffee. We’ll come through in a minute.”
Sarah left promptly, but Kyle never saw her leave the room. He had a hard time taking his eyes off Nicole. The beautiful Asian girl had swapped her formal business suit for a loose fitting, ruby red gown tailored from silk of the finest quality. It was a fine compliment to her good looks, a knee length outfit secured at the waist with a gold inlaid sash. Nicole strode barefoot towards Kyle, stopped two paces ahead of him, and folded her arms. Her stance was noble and elegant, almost princely. Kyle looked up into the girl’s eyes. Even without shoes, Nicole was three inches taller.
“I owe you an apology, Detective,” she said. “You did everything you could to help my father. For all you knew, that crazy woman would have killed him anyway. It’s just… I…” She trailed off, fighting back tears.
Kyle swiftly changed the subject. “Quite an impressive collection you have here.”
He was referring to the bookcases that formed the circular interior wall. The shelves were packed with tomes and parchments. At a rough estimate there were over ten thousand documents, enough to rival the majority of the city’s public libraries. Enclosed booths, tables and chairs were positioned throughout the room. This was a study area without the distraction of rude, noisy children running amok, a pure center of learning that put many others to shame.
“These texts belonged to my father,” Nicole said. “When Toshigi first came to this country, he was determined not to abandon his Japanese heritage. As the years passed by, he became more and more immersed in American culture. He kept these books to remind himself of his humble beginnings, a history he preferred to forget. I can’t remember the last time he set foot in this room. It was so long ago.”
While Nicole recounted her tale, Kyle wandered to a vacuumed preservation case. According to its label plaque the manuscript inside was hundreds of years old. Toshigi must have shelled out a handsome sum to add it to his collection.
“I suppose the work piled up,” Kyle said.
“You mean the sales agreements piled up,” Nicole responded venomously. “My father was a self centered, capitalist pig. Sorry if I sound blunt, but I assume you want to hear the cold, hard truth, not the romanticized version.”
This was a side of Nicole that Kyle hadn’t seen before: a tough, independent girl concealed beneath the pleasant exterior. He was about to comment when a serving bell rang next door.
“Should we discuss my father’s failings over coffee?” suggested Nicole. “Sarah’s prepared enough for two. You’re welcome to join me.”
“How can I refuse the hostess?”
Kyle accompanied Nicole to the entrance hall. “You don’t seem too sympathetic towards your father. Were you on good terms?”
“Establishing decent working relationships was not one of his fortes. With my father, business always took priority over family. There were times when he could be a downright miserable bastard.”
Nicole showed Kyle to a guest area at the rear end of the house. He presumed this was where Toshigi would have socialized with his friends after dinner. The stylish, velvet cushioned armchairs were designed with maximum comfort in mind, while chess sets and card tables were provided to keep visitors entertained until the early hours of the morning. As a bonus, the view of the back garden was simply mesmerizing. In warmer or safer times the French windows could be opened to allow ventilation. For now, insulation and security took priority.
Sarah brought in a silver tray, placed it on an end table, and poured coffee into two china cups. Expensive as it was, the cutlery was overshadowed by other items on show. Portraits by world famous artists were framed above the mantelpiece, and priceless relics from feudal Japan exhibited in glass display cases. One antique collection caught Kyle’s eye: a set of samurai armour and weaponry restored to its former glory.
“Your father left all this to you?” he asked, choosing an armchair that faced the garden windows.
Nicole passed one cup to Kyle and took the other for herself. “Why?” she snapped. “Do you think I killed him for the money?” Having dropped that bomb, Nicole sat beside him, stared directly ahead, and stirred her coffee. “Thank you, Sarah. That will be all.”
Realizing her catering services were no longer required, Sarah gave her mistress a courteous bow, pulled a feather duster from her apron, and proceeded to clean the room.
“Nobody’s accusing you of anything, Nicole,” Kyle reassured her. “This is all routine.” He leaned forward to place a hand on the girl’s knee, but her sharp-eyed glare made him reconsider.
“But that’s what you were thinking,” she said frostily. “I’m not stupid, Detective. I design games for a living. You can consider me an expert player. In the twelve years since my father came to San Francisco, hundreds of people have worked for him. And, as I’ve already explained, he wasn’t the most appreciative president to serve under. Why don’t you take your witch hunt there?”
Nicole’s arguments were solid and logical. Kyle went with the flow. “Can you think of anyone in particular? A former employee who might have wanted to hurt your father? You said the person that delivered the note was a woman. Does that narrow it down?”
“I’m only telling you what Rebecca told me. She’s my secretary at Dragonsoft. You can get the details from her.”
Kyle sipped his coffee, thinking back to the crime scene. “The killer left a message. Twelve E. Mean anything to you?”
Nicole shrugged her shoulders. “You’re the detective, not me.”
“You say your father lived here twelve years. Probably a coincidence. So you grew up in Japan, then?”
“No. Toshigi adopted me when I was seven years old.”
Nicole finished her coffee and wandered to a French window. On the way she passed Sarah. The maid had finished cleaning display cases, and started on the armchairs.
Nicole continued her story. “Toshigi visited the orphanage in San Jose. I’d been there ever since my parents died. I was three at the time.” She skipped over their deaths. Kyle suspected it was a painful memory, an incident Nicole didn’t want to elaborate on. “The visit was one of my father’s publicity stunts. That was back when he cared enough to donate money to charity. I showed him my work.”
Nicole turned towards a pastel portrait of San Francisco, a collage of monochrome gray skyscrapers with chunky black windows. A red suspension bridge crossed wavy blue lines in the background. The colorful depiction of the Golden Gate was obviously the work of a child, but the attention to detail was impressive.
“And Toshigi saw something in me,” said Nicole. “He thought I had exceptional visual flair.
The rest as they say, Detective, is history.”
A French window pane behind Nicole shattered with a muffled bang, showering her gown with glass fragments. The terrified girl dropped to the floor. She looked to Kyle for an explanation, but he had none to give. That was until he heard a loud crack from behind him. The maid collapsed like a rag doll, fresh blood dripping from a bullet wound on her temple. Her discarded feather duster rolled across the floor.
“Sarah!” screamed Nicole.
Kyle’s experience and training took over. He threw away his coffee cup, dived to the ground, and pulled his gun from its holster. “Nicole!” he yelled. “Stay down! There’s nothing you can do for her.”
Nicole lay still, whimpering. Kyle took a chance and peeked over the armchair cushion. He’d only exposed a small fraction of his head when a second windowpane imploded. Nicole cried in terror as broken glass rained between her shaking legs. Kyle turned to inspect the damage. The unseen shooter’s bullet had shattered a display case, and the antique vase stored inside was literally shot to pieces.
Kyle grabbed his radio. “This is Travis,” he said, scanning the far wall whilst maintaining cover. “At the Tasoto residence, three nine one Pine Avenue. I’m under fire. One confirmed shooter, maybe more. We have a civilian down. I need backup now!”
He signaled Nicole to take cover behind a sofa. She shook her head, too scared to even move. Kyle lay on his side and wriggled towards her, keeping his weapon aimed towards the garden. He couldn’t see anyone outside, but there were plenty of potential sniping positions amongst the foliage. Kyle’s view was severely restricted, and she - if the shooter was a woman - could well be lining up a killer shot.
Kyle extended his hand. After some hesitation, Nicole reached out and grabbed it. Her gaze was fixed on Sarah’s body. Nicole was shaking with fright, and Kyle had trouble holding her still.
“Help me,” she pleaded. “I… I can’t move.”
Kyle tightened his grip. “Nicole, come with me. I’ll cover you.”
Jade Dragon (Action Girl Thrillers) Page 6
