The Spy Across the Table

by Barry Lancet

  Even outnumbered, Inflexible Lex trooped on.

  “Stu, the president has brought me up to date on his end. We all agree you should cooperate with Mr. Brodie.”

  “Yes, of course, Helen. I just thought this is something best handled by our people.”

  Agreement followed by a slick reversal so smooth, you could miss it if you weren’t at the top of your game. But all three people on the other end of the line were, and wouldn’t.

  The president stepped into the breach. “By ‘our people,’ do you mean Homeland?”

  “Yes, I do. They’re the professionals. But now that you’ve conferred with Carl, my services are no longer needed. I will gladly step aside.”

  “Thank you, Stu. I appreciate that. Carl tells me Homeland has not come up with anything on the location of Anna Tanaka. Were you aware of that?”

  The ambassador cleared his throat. “Yes, sir.”

  “Were you also aware they had two agents undercover assigned to protect her?”

  “This is the first I am hearing of it.”

  “Let’s examine that for a moment, shall we? Are you in the loop over there, Stu? Since, as you say, you are on-site?”

  The ambassador hesitated. “Basically.”

  “You should be in or out. Not in the foggy land of ‘basically.’ Has Tom Swelley been in touch? He’s running things over there for this.”

  “Yes. In fact, he’s outside the residence now and—”

  “I’m sure he is. What do you know of Homeland’s progress in your backyard?”

  “Nothing much, sir.”

  “Neither do I, Stu. Neither do I. And I am one unhappy camper. I have told Secretary Jordenson this.”

  “Of course, sir.”

  “Further, I informed him that Brodie has a lead on the daughter’s whereabouts. Do you know what Carl said, Stu?”

  “I imagine he thought it extraordinary, sir.”

  “That is the precise word he used, which is good. Puts us all on the same page. Because of his long association with Japan, Mr. Brodie has his own set of unique sources. Get him what he needs.”

  “I should think—”

  “Are you about to second-guess me, Stu?”

  “No, Mr. President.”

  “Good. You get Brodie over to Seoul, you hear me? Give him everything he requires and don’t let me hear you’ve dragged your feet.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And keep Swelley and his goons off Brodie’s back. In fact, keep them out of the loop until I give the word. Have you got that? Anything further, you are to work through Helen or Carl. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good-bye, Stu.”

  “Good-bye, sir.”

  With a note of relief in his voice, the ambassador dropped off the line without another syllable.

  Perez broke into a wide grin. Swelley stood frozen on the other side of the glass. He had not been privy to the president’s conversation but he could decipher the Marine’s expression. A string of expletives filtered through the glass.

  “You still there, Jim?” Joe Slater asked.

  “Yes. Just enjoying the scenery.”

  “The weather’s changed, has it?”

  “For the moment.”

  Tellingly, the president’s response gave a whole new meaning to the word farsighted. “Rest assured, neither Joan or I are fooled by Swelley’s childish maneuvers.”

  “Good to know.”

  “And there’s more. My esteemed colleagues and I have something for your ears only.”

  CHAPTER 55

  YES, Mr. President, I’m listening,” I said into the phone as I stepped from the safety of the guard booth.

  “I presume that was for your audience,” Joe Slater said.

  “You got it.”

  “Are things moving?”

  Unattended, the tall gate emblazoned with the Great Seal of the United States parted with measured dignity. From inside the estate, a Marine beckoned us to enter.

  “Yes, in all senses of the word.”

  “Excellent. Listen, I’ve talked this over with Carl and we’ve agreed to bring you into the loop, but we need you to stay close-lipped regarding what I’m about to tell you. Can you do that?”

  “That’s a yes for myself and my partner.”

  “Would that be”—a rustle of papers—“Mr. Noda?”

  “Yes.”

  “Excuse us for just a minute.” I was put on hold. A minute later the president returned. “Okay, inclusive of Mr. Noda but no further. He’s got the seal of approval.”

  “From?”

  “The CIA. This level, that’s how things work.”

  I considered the implications and decided it was a battle for another time.

  “Jim, we okay?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I’m passing you over. Carl?”

  They were on speakerphone in the Oval, so the “passing” was figurative.

  “Hello, Mr. Brodie,” the Homeland secretary said. “What’s your personal opinion of the NSA?”

  Or maybe a battle for now. “Do they have information on me, my daughter, and my friends?”

  Noda and I strolled into the ambassadorial compound and the gate slowly reversed course, shutting us in.

  “I imagine they do.”

  “Despite the restrictions to the Patriot Act?”

  “There are many ways to intercept data.”

  Not the best answer but an honest one.

  “Then I hate it. I want my private life to remain private.”

  “Can you separate your personal opinion from the issue at hand?”

  “In this case, yeah.”

  “Fine, then we’re in business. First up, you’re to be accompanied to Seoul by a Marine recon team of four men.”

  “Don’t want them.”

  “Jim,” the president said, “these boys know the terrain and are some of our best men in the Far East. They are military, not NSA or Homeland. I’m afraid I must insist on this. But they are to follow your orders.”

  “That a guarantee?”

  “Yes.”

  “No Homeland? No embedded spies?”

  “None.”

  “Don’t like the idea but I can work with it.”

  “Good. Thank you. Here’s Carl again.”

  The nose of what I presumed was Tattersill’s official car, an elongated maroon Lincoln Continental with glazed black windows, rolled around the bend in the drive and eased to a silent stop alongside us.

  “Mr. Brodie, I want to assure you—”

  “Sorry to interrupt, but the ambassador’s car just turned up. Do you want him in the loop?”

  “Mr. President?” the secretary asked.

  “I think not. Jim, top priority is to get you to your plane. I have work I can juggle for the next three hours, so get back to us when you are alone and we’ll continue your briefing. Carl will stick around. Is that workable?”

  “Absolutely,” I said.

  A chauffeur hopped out with brisk efficiency and opened a rear door for us. Noda and I slid onto the seat facing Tattersill. The ambassador sat in the far corner of the backseat, pointedly ignoring us. He’d dressed in haste. His clothes and his signature wavy blond locks had the ruffled look of a startled pigeon.

  The chauffeur climbed back behind the wheel, the gate eased open, and the nose of the vehicle crawled forward. The crowd of badges edged aside. From the entrance of the guard booth, Perez saluted. The officers of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police formed a respectful line along the drive, while Swelley’s crew gave way with undisguised defiance.

  “I suppose you want to hold on to that phone for a while longer,” Tattersill said, his tone peevish.

  One wing of his shirt collar flopped over the lapel of his topcoat.

  “Yes, our talk is ongoing. I’ll see that it’s returned.”

  “Didn’t think you could tap into the Oval too,” he said.

  Too. That one word told me everything. Behind Sl
ater’s back, Swelley had also played the presidential card.

  But days earlier.

  Laying out his traps and trip wires.

  From which Noda and I had only just escaped.

  * * *

  In stilted English, the chauffeur informed us we would be heading to an alternate helipad ten minutes away, since the Roppongi site normally used was under construction.

  Noda and I sunk into the padded leather comfort of the Lincoln. I felt my nerves settle. Each passing second whisked us farther away from Swelley’s troops and the police. The Tokyo PD wouldn’t follow, but Swelley’s people would. Not immediately, but soon enough.

  At my side, Noda read my concern. “No time for that now. Get your passport here.” He reached for his own phone.

  I nodded as the Lincoln, with its sleek rounded corners and a wide regal grill, glided through the Tokyo night. My personal phone vibrated with an incoming call from Jenny. I answered and she jumped right in: “Hello, Daddy. I just wanted to say hi before I rush off for soccer—so hi!”

  I laughed. “Hi back. I miss you.”

  My daughter sounded effusive. She’d made a whole new set of friends playing soccer, and her spirits and her health had benefited.

  “I miss you too. When are you coming home?”

  I winced. “As soon as I can. I’m helping out some friends.”

  “That’s okay, Daddy, just don’t forget me.”

  The barb pierced deeper than anything Habu could have thrown my way. His blade work drew only blood.

  “Not possible, Jen, and you know that.”

  “Did you tell Rie about my judo wins?”

  “I did. She gave me a special message to deliver in person.”

  “Tell me now.”

  “I can’t. I made a promise.”

  “You can tell. I won’t say anything.”

  “Sorry, kid. A promise is a promise.”

  “Fudge. It’s so hard to wait.”

  From the next seat, Noda growled at me.

  “Listen, Jen, I have the message memorized, so I’ll tell you first thing. Got to go. Love you, kid.”

  “Same here, Daddy. Bye-bye. Oh, and don’t forget the Totoro pajamas for Lisa.”

  “I won’t.”

  We disconnected and I called Rie. She picked up on the fifth ring, sounding groggy and unlike her usual self. “Where are you? Are you okay?”

  “Sorry. Had my hands full. I have to go away for a few days, so I won’t be able to make it tonight, but I need a favor.”

  “What’s happened?” Her voice was strained.

  “I found out where they’re taking Anna.”

  “That’s good, but are you okay?”

  Something wasn’t right. “Yes, of course. Is everything okay there?”

  “I’m . . . just worried. Tell me what you need.”

  I explained where I’d stashed my passports, then asked her to hand over both to the Brodie Security op Noda had asked to swing by the house.

  “Two passports?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where are you going?” I told her and she said, “I’ll bring them myself,” hanging up before I could protest.

  “Trouble in paradise?” Tattersill asked with a snarky grin.

  As much as I wanted to ignore him, Inflexible Lex might be right this time. Rie had sounded odd.

  * * *

  We arrived without any further interruption at a midtown office building of white concrete and black windows. It was boilerplate commercial architecture and instantly forgettable, which may have been the point. Private security processed us through the gate at the rear, which guarded a passage to a subbasement parking lot, where a Marine sentry waited.

  “ETA for the bird is five minutes, Mr. Ambassador,” he said as we stepped from the vehicle.

  “Very good.”

  “Will you be accompanying the gentlemen, sir?”

  “No. Five minutes and they will be the military’s headache.”

  Noda and I traded a look. I wanted to punch the disgruntled diplomat. Inflexible Lex led us to a pair of locked double glass doors, where a second Marine pulled out a key ring anchored to his service belt and let us in.

  “Third elevator from the left has been activated, sir,” he said as he swung the door aside.

  “I know the way.”

  “Sorry I can’t light her up for you, sir. New security requirements.”

  Tattersill gave a curt nod and we followed him down a dimly lit hallway, then into the elevator and up to a roof, where a helipad stood lit and waiting. Embedded roof-lights the color of turquoise encircled the landing site. They cast a discreet ring of light bright enough to direct the pilot without attracting attention from tenants in the neighboring buildings.

  Two minutes later a Black Hawk with the signature humpbacked dome and long rotors set down in a flurry of wind and dust. A pilot dropped from the cockpit, scrambled over in the half-bend run they all use, and saluted the ambassador, saying, “Ready for boarding anytime you are, sir.”

  With a cavalier wave, Tattersill said, “They’re all yours. Up, up, and away.”

  “I need an extra minute or two,” I said. “I’m waiting on a delivery.”

  “Two deliveries,” said Noda, who had hung back and informed the driver of our incoming messengers.

  The first delivery arrived six minutes later: five Brodie Security ops in black with clubs, Tasers, and radios on equipment belts at their waists.

  The ambassador turned indignant. “What are you up to, Brodie? You said a ‘delivery.’ ”

  The lead man handed over Noda’s passport and some documents, including a map I’d requested.

  “There you go,” I said.

  “It doesn’t take five men to deliver a sheaf of papers.”

  “They’ll be riding with us.”

  “Unacceptable.”

  “ ‘Get him what he needs.’ Word for word from the Oval. Have you forgotten already?”

  Tattersill’s eyebrows formed a near perfect V of scorn. “You’re out of control.”

  Again I felt the urge to smack him. If the pilot hadn’t been present, I would have. But I restrained myself because I knew the game Tattersill was playing. He was laying groundwork for a counterattack in case the expedition blew up in our faces. He wanted the flyboy to be able to recall the exchange, anecdotal though it was.

  I turned to the pilot. “How many people will this bird hold?”

  He cast an uncertain look Tattersill’s way. “This site can handle size, so we brought a big bird. Up to eleven combat-equipped troops. Twenty with light loads.”

  “Good to hear,” I said, casting an Anything-else-on-your-mind? look at Inflexible Lex. He fumed and showed me his back.

  The next minute my delivery arrived—with unforeseen extras.

  CHAPTER 56

  I’M downstairs,” Rie said when I answered her call.

  “See you in a minute.”

  I headed to the ground floor, still puzzled by her earlier tone. The elevator doors slid open to reveal Rie alone in the unlit passage. A band of pale-yellow light slanted across her face, the rest of her nothing more than a silhouette. Panic consumed her look.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, a mild anxiety seizing me.

  Moist tracks glistened on the high plains of Rie’s cheeks. She could not have passed the outer checkpoint in this state, nor the inner one. Neither Marine would have permitted a tearful woman to enter without alerting the ambassador. So she’d disguised her distress before entering. Which meant her tears were fresh.

  “I had an awful nightmare before you called. I don’t cry and I don’t have nightmares, but tonight I saw myself crying over you. You were in a dark place, and dying. I don’t know where or why, but wherever you’re going, please don’t. It’s too dangerous.”

  A tear rolled down her cheek and plunged into the darkness between us. I pulled her into my arms. I could feel the fullness of her form. Where her face buried itself into my shirt, a dam
pness spread.

  “I don’t cry, Brodie,” she said again, her head buried in my shirt and her fists coming up and pounding my chest.

  “I know, I know.”

  After a long moment she raised her head and we kissed. It was long and deep and desperate. When she pulled away she said, “Can’t someone else go in your place?”

  “It’s Seoul. I’ve been there a dozen times.”

  “But it’s not going to end there, is it? Where else? The DMZ?”

  Rie knew Seoul was too easy.

  “Yes, but Noda will be with me.”

  “In my dream he wasn’t there.”

  “There’s a Marine recon team accompanying us.”

  “They weren’t there either. This is different.”

  “They’re all different.”

  She shook her head. “Not like this. This is China Rules. You’re dealing with spies and covert ops. It’s their world, not ours. None of those people can be trusted. Let them deal with each other. Give it to Homeland or the CIA or the PSIA. Or even the South Koreans.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Do it for me.”

  “You know I would if I could. But none of those people care about Anna as much as I do. None of them have the history with this case that I have.”

  Once more I saw Mikey’s face at the Kennedy Center. Attentive to every nuance playing out on stage. Eager to meet his idol. Then I saw the blood and the bodies and my chase through the maze of dressing rooms and painted backdrops. I saw the killer’s ticket to freedom—my backstage pass—floating away into the darkness. And then there was Sharon Tanaka’s husband, resurrected in front of me when I told him why I believed his daughter was still alive.

  Fear pooled in Rie’s eyes. “You can’t go, Brodie. Something bad is coming.”

  “I have to.”

  Her head slumped against my chest. She clung tighter. My throat went dry.

  “I brought both passports,” she said into my shirt.

  “Thank you.”

  “One of them in a different name.”

  “I know.”

  “Which one do you need?”

  “The alternate.”