Randall sprang off his sofa. He slipped in a pool of blood, tumbling onto Asuka’s headless corpse. “Lenora,” he pleaded. “You have to understand. I never meant to hurt you, or any of the other girls. You were just…”
“Sex objects?” The assassin crushed the glass fragments under her foot, stalking her quarry across the cabin. “Friends for you and Toshigi to play with? Your smooth talking doesn’t impress me. You can be my toy tonight. How does it feel now our roles are reversed? Where are your all powerful associates when you need them?”
Randall ran to the drinks cabinet, grabbed a lamp, and yanked out the power cord. “We had an agreement!” he yelled, wielding his makeshift club.
The killer moved towards him, cutting the air with her katana. “So we did, but I enjoyed watching Toshigi squirm so much that I wanted to relive the experience.”
“To hell with you!” screamed Randall.
He threw the lamp at her face. Jade blocked the missile with the flat of her sword, leapt in the air, and shattered the light frame with a spinning kick. Randall had no room left to maneuver. Jade pointed her katana at his throat, forcing him back against the cabinet.
“Not exactly Leanardo the Fearless, are you?” she said, unzipping her wetsuit top. The killer unfolded a cardboard pirate hat and placed it on Randall’s head. It was soggy, and fell off almost right away. “Like you, the Pirate of Trinidad sailed high seas, stole other people’s money and courted wenches. Unlike you, he didn’t surrender his ship without a fight. And if you’ve played the game, you’ll know…”
Sweat trickled down Randall’s cheeks. He cowered against the wooden counter, terrified of the assassin’s sword. She lifted her weapon high and spun it round above her head. Randall instinctively protected his face, but her attack was aimed somewhere else. The killer’s katana sliced clean through Randall’s lower knee, chopping off his ankle and foot. He grabbed the bloody stump, wailing in agony as blood soaked his fingers.
“He also lost a leg,” the woman said with chilling calmness.
She shoved Randall over, and removed a block of clay-like material from inside her wetsuit. “Look familiar?” she asked, holding it before his eyes.
Randall’s strength was fading fast, but he managed to concentrate long enough to read the identifying mark stamped on the side. It was a block of C-4, the same plastic explosive he’d asked his contact to acquire. The assassin planted her bomb under Randall’s desk and attached a detonator. It seemed she planned on using his own weapon against him.
‘Suzanne’ zipped up her scuba suit, and collected her oxygen tank and flippers. “Fancy going for a late night swim? The water’s nice and cool.”
The killer grabbed Randall in a bear hug, and dragged him onto the main deck. She propped his chest against the yacht’s guardrail, placed him in a chokehold, and directed his eyes towards the Alcatraz Island lighthouse. Its beam illuminated them both. The assassin could afford to expose herself. There wasn’t another ship within three miles.
“Do you know why nobody escaped The Rock?” she asked. “It wasn’t the cell blocks that stopped them. No, it was the icy waters of the bay. None of the prisoners who escaped made it to the shore alive. They all froze to death or drowned. Think you can do better?”
The assassin kicked Randall over the guardrail. He fell backwards into the ocean, landing with a huge splash. Freezing cold water closed across Randall’s face, numbing his senses. The Pacific currents dragged him away from his yacht. He flapped his arms, attempting to stay afloat, but his wounded leg made that an impossible feat. Randall could no longer feel his severed knee. Blood diffused outwards, adding a dark reddish tint to his vision.
The killer swam down to him. Slicing off Randall’s leg and dumping him in the ocean was apparently not enough to satisfy her psychotic cravings. She wanted to watch him drown, to be with him until the very end. The assassin locked her thighs around Randall’s waist. Salt stung his eyes as she pulled him deeper. ‘Suzanne’ breathed through her mouthpiece, insulated from the cold by her wetsuit’s thermal lining. Randall had neither air nor warmth. As water filled his lungs, the killer lifted her mask, and discarded her breathing apparatus.
With all the blood in the sea, Randall couldn’t determine the colour of the killer’s eyes, but he remembered them. He cursed himself for not realizing her identity sooner. She smiled in triumph. Randall had made a terrible mistake and underestimated her ability. So had the police, but he would never have the opportunity to warn them.
***
Jade piloted Apollo back to Fisherman’s wharf and weighed anchor. It was amusing how Randall had isolated himself at sea, believing he was safe. The killer had stored her diving equipment at her scuba school in advance, figuring the slimy attorney would retreat to his yacht once the tide turned against him. Instead of cutting his losses and leaving town, Randall chose to remain behind until the last possible minute. Jade wasn’t sure of his motives. Maybe he wanted to assume control of Toshigi’s company, screw Asuka one more time, or hand his useless information to the police. Whatever his reasons, Randall had made himself an easy target.
While people thought it strange to go swimming in the bay at night, Jade’s mask kept her identity secret from suspicious passers by. Her photograph was all over the news, and she wanted her duel with Kyle Travis to remain personal. Randall had sailed two miles offshore, but Jade was a strong and accomplished swimmer. It was no real challenge to reach Apollo, climb the ladder, and sneak onboard. Taking care of Randall was even easier.
Detective Travis was waiting to ambush Jade when she returned to the wharf. His car was parked half a block from the pier, beneath a broken streetlight. Darkness obscured the license plate, but smoke rising from the exhaust told Jade the engine was running. Travis had blown whatever cover he’d hoped to establish. Despite being continually outsmarted, he still didn’t take Jade seriously. The arrogant man was inviting death. Jade removed her flippers. She wanted to be quick and agile when the inevitable confrontation came.
The detective took her by surprise. “Freeze!” he yelled from behind. “Get your hands in the air and turn around.”
Jade smiled and did as Travis commanded. It appeared he’d finally wised up. The parked car was a decoy Travis had used to distract her while he boarded Apollo, and circled around to the ship’s bow. Now he had a gun aimed at Jade’s back, and the cabin’s windshield to protect him.
“Drop the sword!” he shouted. “Drop it right now.”
The killer tossed her katana aside. She had another trick up her sleeve, one she’d play at the appropriate time. “Detective Travis,” she said, acting compliant. “I recognize the voice.”
“Yeah, you ought to.” Travis kept his distance from the window. “Calling me at every God damn opportunity. Well, this time you’re on the other end of a gun, not a cellphone. And don’t ask me to put it down so we can settle this with our fists. I don’t believe in fair play, Lenora. I like having safety glass between us, and I’d love nothing more than to put a bullet between your eyes right now.”
Jade went for Travis’ weak spot. “But if you do that, you’ll never find Nicole. You could always kiss her cold, dead lips at the morgue, but that wouldn’t be the same.”
The cop’s stare intensified. “Where is she?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Jade replied, stepping forward.
“Stay back!” Travis ordered. “Take off your goggles. I want to look into your eyes, bitch.”
Jade pulled her goggles away from her face, stretching the elastic. “Are you sure about that, Detective?” she stopped to ask. “You might not like what you see.”
“Do it!”
Jade dived behind a control panel, and activated a remote control in her wetsuit belt. Travis got off a shot. The bullet shattered the windshield, but flew harmlessly over her head.
A muffled explosion came from below as the C-4 exploded. The yacht pitched to starboard, throwing Kyle off balance. His pistol slid along the slipper
y bow and fell into the Pacific. Having disarmed her opponent, Jade sprinted towards the broken window, leapt over the frame, and kicked Travis in the head. The detective fell back, groaning in pain. He grabbed the guardrail to steady himself.
Travis threw a punch. Jade blocked the blow, thumped him in the chest, and knocked him down with a low spinning kick. She raised her foot, and brought it down heavily on Kyle’s back. In retaliation he grabbed her ankle. Normally such a move would be futile, but Jade lost her footing on the treacherously wet surface. Hoping to regain the advantage, she broke her fall with one hand and chopped Travis’ throat with the other. Jade swung her legs round, grabbed the cop’s neck in a scissor lock, and slammed his head repeatedly against the bow.
The yacht sank as water flooded through the breach in the hull. Jade sat on Kyle’s back and forced his ear against the deck. “Hear that?” she asked. “Running water. Hope sinks with Apollo.”
Jade tossed the detective’s radio into the sea. Deprived of backup, Travis foolishly took her on alone. He grabbed Jade’s neck and choked her. She pulled his hands away and twisted his wrists. Her strong grip rendered him powerless. There was no way for Travis to escape her clutches.
“What hope?” groaned Kyle, enduring the pain.
“The information that will help you find Nicole,” said Jade with an evil smile. “It’s down below, in Randall’s safe. I left it unlocked, just for you. It wasn’t very smart of him to use his birthday as the combination. But then, he got all his good ideas from Toshigi, and that bastard stole them from me.”
Travis kicked at Jade’s stomach, but he had little energy left, and his blows were pathetically weak. “Is this another of your sadistic puzzles?” he wheezed.
“Difficult to solve perhaps, but not sadistic. The others simply weren’t up to the challenge. I’m all out of games characters for you to play, Detective. I suppose you’ll have to be the generic hero who rescues his true love. I’d hurry if I were you. Nicole’s a little stretched out.” She followed her obscure reference with a chuckle.
“How do I know you haven’t killed Nicole already?”
Jade kissed Travis on his cheek. “You don’t. That’s all part of the game.”
The killer released Travis, and swan-dived into the ocean. From there, it was only a short swim under the piers to safety. The water was too cold for Travis to follow, and he couldn’t radio for reinforcements. If the police were already here, they’d have intervened when Jade attacked him. That meant Travis was by himself. Faced with a choice between Jade and Nicole, it was obvious which woman the love smitten detective would pursue. Jade could have eliminated him back on Apollo‘s bow, but it was more fun to string his hopes along. Whether Travis found his dream girl or not, he’d be dead within twenty-four hours.
***
Kyle descended the steps to Randall’s cabin. Apollo was heavier on one side than the other, and the staircase at an angle. The water was already waist deep. White rapids swirled around the sofa. Bottles, documents and cushions floated across the room, caught in the currents. There was no sign of the flood abating, and the yacht could sink or capsize at any moment.
Spotting Randall’s safe behind a slashed painting, Kyle waded towards it. As he passed the sofa, his foot got caught under something long and heavy. The detective looked down to see the body of a naked, Oriental woman surrounded by a bloody haze.
“Nicole!” yelled Kyle.
He was scared the killer had decapitated her, until he saw an unknown girl’s head float between his legs. Kyle belched into his hand, pulled his foot free, and continued towards the safe.
Sparks flew from a severed lamp cable on Randall’s desk, crackling as they touched the wood. At first Kyle paid little attention to them. Then he realized the rising water was about to come in contact with the bare wire. Once that happened, the whole cabin would become a deathtrap.
Kyle climbed onto the sofa, reaching safe ground moments before the power cord electrified the seawater. Kyle bent his knees, and used a floating cushion as a steppingstone to reach the desk. He wrapped his jacket sleeve around his hand for insulation, and disconnected the power cable. After checking for other potential hazards, he dived back into the water.
The killer hadn’t lied. She’d left the safe door ajar. There was a sealed, clear plastic folder on the middle shelf. Kyle removed the wallet, opened the clasp, and leafed through the contents. Randall had been meticulous in recording his dealings with Lenora Knight. Everything was here: transcripts of telephone conversations, details of their secret pact to murder Toshigi, information on the arms dealer he’d put her in contact with, and a twelve page summary of the Cyber Maidens and Lenora’s history with Dragonsoft. Randall was nowhere to be found, but Kyle couldn’t afford to waste time looking for a man who was probably already dead.
Kyle resealed the documents in the folder, waded to the exit, and evacuated the sinking yacht. He prayed there was something in the files that would tell him where Lenora was holding Nicole.
Chapter Fifteen: The Dragon’s Lair
Agent Baker’s goon squad rolled into Fisherman’s Wharf in force. He brought a small army of suited operatives, enough to fill five black sedans. The vehicles swerved, forming roadblocks around the pier where Apollo was berthed. Rising air bubbles popped on the ocean surface. The yacht’s upper deck was fully submerged, and only the sails remained above water.
Kyle twirled his pistol and held it by the barrel, indicating his intentions were peaceful. The FBI response team ignored his gesture and treated him as hostile. A dozen agents exited their cars and aimed handguns, using open doors as shields. The others readied the heavy artillery: shotguns, sniper rifles and riot cannons. The men and women under Baker’s command all wore Kevlar vests. He was prepared for a full-scale war, and Kyle regretted not involving him sooner.
He felt better about his decision when Baker laid into him. “Detective Travis,” the FBI man said, stepping forward from the pack. “Dare I ask where the suspect is?”
Kyle holstered his weapon, and showed Baker the plastic document folder. “She got away. The bitch snatched Nicole right outside the precinct. We have to trace this number. Now.”
“We? That’s wishful thinking.” Baker showed no interest in the files Kyle had risked his life to recover. He seemed more concerned with establishing authority, no matter what the cost.
Kyle was fed up of Baker’s childish squabbling. “There’s no time to argue about jurisdiction. Nicole’s life is on the line!”
A crowd of civilians gathered on the pier, snapping photos of the sinking yacht. Tourists pointed Baker out like he was an attraction, but the fed was too busy grilling Kyle to be bothered by negative publicity.
“Nicole, eh?” Baker asked mockingly. “So, things are personal between you and Miss Tasoto. So that’s why you ran off to play cowboy, to rescue the girl from your enemy and bring her back safely home to her ranch. Didn’t work out I presume?”
“Listen, Baker.”
“Agent Baker to you, Travis.” He said Kyle’s name in a condescending tone. “And you listen. So far, three police officers have died, including one in his own office right in front of your eyes. Two more are in hospital, including your partner who, if I understand things right, went in without backup while you snuggled up to a suspect in a murder investigation. Yeah, I saw the pictures.”
“Agent Baker, we’re wasting time here,” said Kyle, hoping to placate him. “Let’s combine our resources. Lenora’s probably on her way to Nicole now, while we’re having a slugging match.”
Baker missed Kyle’s point, assuming he was even listening. “Ah, Lenora Knight, the woman who’s all over the news yet you can’t seem to find. The body count is in double figures. And a girl is responsible for all these deaths. One little girl.”
“Don’t underestimate her.”
Kyle turned to leave, but two agents obstructed his path.
“Like you did?” Baker said. “You had this Knight woman in custody, or at
least that’s what you claim. What happened? Did you trade her freedom for a cuddle and kiss? Or maybe this is all some wild tale to save your sorry ass.”
Kyle thrust the plastic folder in Baker’s chest. “If you want to take over my investigation, that’s fine by me,” he said through clenched teeth. “I suggest you follow up on this lead.”
He fingered a seven-digit number visible through the clear cover. Randall had circled it in thick red ink, highlighting its importance.
“A yacht just sank, as I’m sure you can tell.” Kyle nodded towards the churning seawater. “You’ll need to send for a recovery team. Don’t think they’ll turn up anything of value, but I already got these notes from the guy’s safe.”
“And who might this guy be?” Baker asked, dropping his confrontational tone. He opened the wallet and flicked through the papers.
“Randall Forbes, Toshigi Tasoto’s business partner. Apparently, Randall was involved with the killer, but he was smart enough to keep files on her. Three digits, then a hyphen, followed by four more. Could be a telephone number, you think?”
If Baker was amused, he didn’t smile. Kyle dialed the number on his cellphone. After four rings, a man with a heavy South American accent picked up. “Watts Inn,” he said. “San Francisco International. Can I help you with something?”
“You already have,” Kyle replied.
The receptionist was understandably confused. “Say what? You want to make a reservation?”
“No. I’d rather do things in person.” Kyle hung up before the man could ask any more questions, and related the address to Baker.
“Watts Inn, eh? How thoughtful of Miss Knight to leave incriminating evidence behind. With a forwarding number nicely highlighted.” Baker was having the same doubts as Kyle. “I’m assuming she opened Forbes’ safe for you, being the kind and generous soul she is. Did it occur to you she might be expecting company?”
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