“Doctor Kato?” a voice came from somewhere in the suite.
June peeked her head through the door. A man stood in the living room. Hispanic, dark skinned and dark haired. She couldn’t place his age. He was dressed in a Real Madrid soccer shirt and jeans, red baseball cap, a carrier bag in one hand.
“Who the hell are you?” June said. “Another security guard?”
“What’s the matter, you don’t recognize me?” Something in the voice was familiar.
June’s eyes focused. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Surprise.” Jack Melendez’s trademark grin. “You like the new look?”
“Jack, what the hell?” She flopped down on the bed.
He sat down next to her. “How about we go out for a walk. Get out of this place for a while?”
June looked up at him. “Seriously? We can go out? How many of your thugs are joining us?”
“Solo dos de nosotros,” he said. Just the two of us. Other than on one occasion, several years before when he was addressing the Mexican community in Los Angeles, it was the first she had heard him speak Spanish.
“This isn’t a good look for you,” she said back.
“Medida temporal, Señorita. Viene conmigo?”
“It better be temporary. You look like an idiot.” June sat up on the bed. “But what’s going on? I thought we couldn’t go out unless they had a field trip organized for us?”
“It’s a nice day and I told them we wanted to go out. Jerome agreed it was a reasonable excuse for him to scope out some of the areas near the convention center. I’ve got some clothes for you too.”
June glanced at the bag he had in his hand, afraid of what they may have dreamed up for her. “Which is?”
“A gift from Leopold. I think he really gets your sense of style.”
She opened the bag and pulled out a shirt, holding it up. It was a Hello Kitty T-shirt, but with a twist.
Jack smiled. “Evidently, he found it in some urban wear shop up the street somewhere.”
She sighed. “Yeah, well, ordinarily Hello Kitty isn’t my style, but Hello Kitty with a Mohawk and tats makes a statement somehow. And if it gets us out of this prison for a while, I’d wear almost anything, even Urban Gangsta Kitty.”
She took off her vest and slipped the new shirt over her top. Looking in a hallway mirror, she tried the double shirt arrangement tucked into her pants and untucked for the best look. She had a hard time with it.
“The thing is, you’ll have to keep it on no matter what,” Jack called out.
“Oh?”
“There’s a tiny tracking chip in the tag. I have one too. They gave me a cell phone to use if we need it.” He slipped it out of his pocket and showed her.
“I can bring my own, Jack.”
“No. This has a panic button. Dial one-six-one-eight and they get a panic signal and our location.”
“One-point-six-one-eight,” June said. “Phi, the Golden Ratio again?”
Jack nodded. “Sort of our little theme for this trip, isn’t it? They thought it would be easy for us to remember but almost impossible to accidentally dial.”
“Yeah, theme.” She went to her purse and got the pendant to wear. She gave it to him to put on her.
Jack obliged.
“Speaking of phi,” she said, “look closely at the pearl. See anything?”
“I see a very expensive pearl. Why?”
She turned around to face him. “The setting is shaped like a phi symbol. The pearl is the round part of the symbol, and the setting completes the shape.”
“Very pretty.”
June tucked it under the layers of shirts.
“Which one of your many boyfriends gave it to you?” Jack asked.
She smiled. “My sister, actually. You met her, remember?”
“Oh yeah, the pretty one.”
She socked him in the belly.
“What was it for?”
“Birthday present. Which reminds me, I still need to get something for her.” June grabbed her wallet, took out the cash and a couple cards, and shoved them in a pocket along with the room key card. “Come on, Big Shot, we’re wasting time. And this little excursion is on me.”
Chapter 32
TREVOR WOKE UP. He heard noises below, footsteps. Hushed voices. He stretched his legs, loosened up his neck muscles. Got the blood flowing again. The voices were getting louder, heading for the elevator. A man and woman saying something about going outside. Trevor figured it was Melendez, probably taking his girlfriend out for a late breakfast. Or something else.
Better make the most of it, Jack. In the last two days, Trevor had memorized every last bump of concrete, every crack in the wall, every detail of his tiny muted environment. His food was almost gone, only one last bottle of water. The waste bucket was nearly full of cat litter. But it would all be worth it.
Just a few more hours.
Trevor allowed himself a smile and settled into his final meal. He unwrapped the last protein bar, picking off tiny bits to nibble, washing each morsel down with sips of water. When he had finished, he used the baby wipes to freshen up, tossing the used towelettes into the waste bucket along with the food wrappers. He flicked on his flashlight and set to work cleaning up trace evidence. No sense in making the FBI’s job any easier.
He wiped down the empty water bottles, lining them up along the wall, positioning each carefully so that the label on each faced directly out. He fluffed and folded his small blanket. He sorted through his box of gear, positioning everything in size order to allow for easy packing later. He cleaned down the walls and floor, careful to cover every inch. He knew he couldn’t avoid leaving fibers, but he could at least make sure his DNA wasn’t plastered all over.
Finally, with nothing left to do, Trevor flicked off the flashlight and settled back into position, lying on his back. Listening.
Melendez should arrive back at the hotel late afternoon. No doubt he’d grab an early dinner like last night, then retire to his room. Trevor had panicked after the two Secret Service agents had shown up, but his fears had been quickly alleviated. They wouldn’t be dropping by again. Just the two bodyguards to worry about, and only one of them seemed to know what he was doing.
“Nearly over now, Jimmy,” Trevor whispered in the dark, old memories of his dead partner rushing through his mind. “In a few more hours, it’s show time. And that son of a bitch is going to pay.”
Chapter 33
HARPER RUBBED HER eyes. Three days of pulling fifteen-hour shifts and lack of sleep was catching up. The glare of the laptop screen wasn’t helping. She sifted through her never-ending inbox of email, not taking anything in. She shut the lid, blinked a few times. Cleared her head.
Recently given operational command, the President’s visit to Seattle was supposed to be Harper’s chance to prove herself. Since she had arrived on site, every square inch of the convention center and hotel had been painstakingly searched for any hint of danger. Every storage locker had been swept, every member of staff vetted. Harper had waited years for this opportunity, and she was damned if anything was going to happen on her watch. She had sacrificed too much. Too many personal relationships ruined, too many missed opportunities outside work. It had all been worth it.
But something about Blake didn’t sit right with her. Sure, he was arrogant, entitled, possibly even a liability. Didn’t mean he wasn’t right. There was always more to be done, better measures to implement. Tighter security. In the one-hundred-plus years the Secret Service had been responsible for keeping the President safe, there had only been one fatality. Countless attempts, only one successful. And that had been over fifty years ago. The Secret Service’s success rate was as close to 100% as to make no statistical difference, but none of that helped Harper sleep better. None of it mattered today.
She decided to send a team back to the hotel basement. Couldn’t hurt to check the ventilation systems one more time. With the weather as cool as it had been, the confere
nce attendees could always live without air conditioning for an hour or two if necessary. Better than risking the alternative.
Harper massaged her temples. Decided to make sure Blake didn’t find out about the extra search. Didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. She found her radio, called in the order. Froze as she heard her cell phone ring. Private number. Only a handful of people knew how to reach her on that handset, and none of them made a habit of calling unless blood was about to be spilled.
She answered the call. “Harper.”
“This is Hunt.” The Assistant Director sounded edgy. “There’s been a development.” The usual departmental term for someone screwed up.
Harper took a deep breath. “How can I help, sir?” She gripped the phone a little tighter.
“I just got a call from the Chief of Police over at Seattle PD,” Hunt said. “They’ve found something at Seattle Center Park, near the Needle.” He paused. “Joanne, you’ve got one hell of a shit storm headed your way.”
Chapter 34
A SUBTERRANEAN TUNNEL leading out the parking lot provided the perfect route for Jack’s little excursion. Leopold hung back about fifty feet, watching the two of them saunter toward the daylight. Jerome took up the rear, scanning the area with unblinking eyes. The smell of damp concrete and vehicle exhaust lingered in the air. Outside, the sun had finally broken through the cloud cover. It was still a little cool, but getting warmer.
Still hanging back, Leopold stepped out onto the sidewalk. The open air felt good after sixteen hours indoors. Traffic was heavy, the wide roads jammed with cars. Trees lined either side, the last of the night’s rain still clinging to the leaves.
“You think Harper’s going to run another sweep?” Jerome said, sidling up next to Leopold. They walked in step.
“Seems likely. I pissed her off enough. She’ll probably figure it’s not worth the humiliation if I turn out to be right.”
“Seems you have her figured out.”
Leopold nodded. “I know the type. Focused on getting everything perfect, even when they know it’s not possible.” They crossed the street. “She’s not going to risk missing something. Even if it means having to listen to me.”
“She’s not going to enjoy this assignment, is she?”
“Not a chance.” Leopold felt his cell phone vibrate in his pocket. He fished it out and checked his messages. “Mary’s been in touch.”
Jerome smiled. “You two still talking?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. Just that most people would have gotten sick of you by now. No offense.”
“Speaking from experience?”
“You bet.”
Leopold sighed. “We have a mutually beneficial professional relationship. No reason to end it now.”
“Oh, I’m sure that’s the reason,” Jerome said.
They reached the intersection and Leopold stopped at the crosswalk. “I’m sure you have a point, but I can’t for the life of me figure out what the hell it might be.”
“I’ve seen you two together. It’s more than a professional relationship.”
Leopold rolled his eyes. “You couldn’t be more wrong.”
“Sure. Whatever.” Jerome pointed ahead. “Walk.”
They crossed the road, still a little over fifty feet behind June and Jack.
“And I understand you and Officer Johnson hit it off last night,” Jerome continued as they reached the other side.
Leopold looked sideways at him. “You still spying on me?”
“I might have tracked down the bartender. Asked a few questions.” Jerome frowned. “And I told you not to drink any alcohol.”
“A gin and tonic doesn’t count. And Johnson was there to share a few concerns, that’s all. She had some questions of her own.”
“Right. She went all the way home, got changed, then came all the way back into town to meet you for a drink. Just so she could talk about work.” He laughed. “You sure do know women.”
“Oh, and you’re an expert?”
“Compared to you.”
“Just drop it.”
Jerome laughed a little louder. Leopold made a mental note to seat him in coach on the flight back.
“Back to Mary,” Leopold said. “She’s been looking into the Chemworks business.” He glanced at his cell phone. “According to this, activity out of the facility seems to have dried up. There’s been no apparent activity in quite some time.”
“I thought those guys were suckers for publicity.”
“Right. They were always eager to get their names in the papers. Anything to drum up a little public support. Strike you as too much of a coincidence that would all stop once the company changed hands?”
“Just a little.”
“The email says Mary might have tracked someone down who might have links to the company from before it was sold off. That might be a start.”
“How did she manage that?”
Leopold smiled. “She told me not to ask.”
“I guess you’re rubbing off on her a little,” Jerome said. “So to speak.”
“She’s going to try and arrange a meet for when I’m back in New York. Hopefully get some answers.”
“Maybe you should let it go.”
Leopold shook his head. “You know the sort of work they were doing. Whoever stole Chemworks out of my control knows Blake Investment’s operating procedures. It’s an insider. No other explanation.”
“We’ll get to the bottom of it,” Jerome said. “But right now, we’ve got other things to worry about.”
He pointed at the sky. Two helicopters were approaching at speed. Somewhere in the distance, there was the sound of sirens. They were getting closer.
Leopold quickened his pace. “We never get the easy jobs, do we?”
Chapter 35
IT WAS GOOD to hit the fresh air. Mid morning by then, the sun was warming up. June and Jack watched as a helicopter flew overhead. Looked like a local network news station. It was followed by another, then by the sound of sirens in the distance. June turned her head and saw Leopold and Jerome behind them. They were looking up into the sky.
“Must be an accident somewhere,” June said. “Got to be first to get it on the news.” She took Jack’s hand.
“God, I hope they get it fixed, whatever it is. Traffic can be bad enough.” He looked at her. “I meant to ask; you said something this morning about, what was it called? Goro-something.”
“Goro-awase,” June said. “Japanese puns and plays on words and numbers. What about it?”
“Just want to hear more about it,” he said.
They headed straight downhill and walked quickly. The Washington State Convention Center was next to downtown, and for some reason had been built directly over the major freeway through the city. The first thing that greeted them while walking was the echoing noise of heavy traffic.
“So, what’s the deal here?” June asked. “You’ve got that soccer shirt on. Are we supposed to speak Spanish to each other? Or am I supposed to fake a Japanese accent?”
“Either one, I guess. Whatever is easier. Can you speak English with a Japanese accent?”
She grimaced. “Spanish then.”
“Might be best when we’re around other people. But maybe try not saying too much. Your Spanish could use a little work.”
She looked at him as they walked briskly down the hill, wondering if he was joking. She had first started speaking Spanish as a little girl, and continued to use it in her office with patients. In the end, she decided it was best to smile and hold his hand.
“What about those puns?” he asked.
“Oh, yeah. Well, there are several ways of using numbers, with different sounds. Often, advertisers will come up with gimmicks for prospective customers to remember using the sounds of a company’s phone number. Maybe by arranging the sounds of a phone number, they can come up with a related word to help the customer remember better, then put it to a jingle. It’s r
eally quite effective. The Japanese have really mastered it.” June listed off several of the jingles she remembered from living in Japan briefly several years before. “They really stick with you.”
Jack laughed. “I bet. What about numbers?”
“Okay. One example: the eighth day of the eight month, August Eighth, is known as Laughter Day in Japan. The date number for eight is ‘ha,’ so August Eighth is pronounced as Ha-Ha no Hi, or Laughter Day. And even better than that is the day before, known as Banana Day.”
“Banana Day?”
“The sound ha for eight can be changed into ba by adding a tiny mark, which is the way the Chinese pronounce the number eight. And the number seven is pronounced na-na. Plus, the word for banana in Japanese is actually banana. So, Ba-nana no Hi, or Banana Day!”
“I guess you learn something new every day.” He grinned and squeezed her hand a little tighter. They reached another busy intersection and waited for the signal to change.
“Yeah, whether you want to or not.” June looked up at him. “Why all the curiosity over numbers?”
“I hate to bring it up…”
“What?”
“That yakuza gang you got tangled up with. What was their name?”
“Oguchi. Why?”
“What’s that mean? Does it have a catchy little number rhyme to go with it?”
“The organization’s name was Oguchi, which generally means ‘big mouth.’ But the boss’s family name was Sandoh.” June’s skin crawled just saying the name out loud. She thought about the numbers, trying to force her brain into working like a computer, sifting through dozens of combinations of sounds and the numbers that might go with them. There wasn’t much that she could think of. She looked at him as they walked.
“Why?” she asked.
Ratio: A Leopold Blake Thriller (A Private Investigator Series of Crime and Suspense Thrillers) Page 14
