by Alex Ko
“Then afterwards we found this,” Jessica said, nodding at Josh.
Josh passed the card around the team. “It was in Shini’s jacket. It must have been planted there while nobody was looking.”
“In fact,” Jessica said, flipping through her notebook, “there was something else as well. Remember when we first met Shini? There was a man in the changing room. Shini said he was a weird fan, but maybe there was more to it than that.”
“That could have been his first warning,” said Sachiko, stroking her wrinkled chin thoughtfully. “Or our villain making some sort of demand.”
“Money, do you think?” Nana asked.
“Straightforward extortion? I think not,” Granny said, taking a sip of tea. “I would have believed it after the restaurant – but someone could truly have been injured at the photo shoot today. I imagine whoever we’re looking for really wanted something bad to happen, and with the sabotage at Shini’s restaurant, I wonder if he’s the person the attackers wanted to get at.”
“But who would want to hurt Shini Hanzo?” Nana frowned.
“Nobody who cares about Japanese football, that’s for certain,” Josh said. “Not with the England game coming up.”
“Then a personal rivalry?” Jessica wondered. “Something...girlfriend-related?” She looked at Josh. He hadn’t thought of that – could it be about Kiki? Either one of them could have a jealous ex, or an insane fan who felt threatened. He shook his head.
“Shini and...and his girlfriend haven’t gone public yet,” he said, just managing to avoid mentioning Kiki. “So it’d have to be someone really close to them, and...” A thought struck him. “Wait, there’s something else. This could be about the big game itself.”
“Shinichiro’s contribution will be invaluable on Saturday, won’t it?” Nana said. “Nobody who wants Japan to stand a chance against England would let him come to harm.”
“But what if someone wants them to lose?” Jessica said, her eyes widening. “What if – no, not someone on the England team, surely?”
Josh shook his head. “They got on so well at the photo shoot. And all of them were on the ground with us, even the managers. And they hadn’t arrived in the country when we saw the man in the changing rooms yesterday.”
“Well if it’s not someone connected with the team, some mad England fan?” Jessica suggested, wincing.
“No...I can’t believe that,” Josh said. He tried to sound certain, but he felt his face flush with shame at the very idea.
“Ah...” said Mr. Yamamoto, quietly. The rest of Team O turned to look at him. He was staring at the frozen game of Go on the pad in front of him. “I think it may come down to money, after all.”
“You have a theory, Yamamoto-san?” Granny asked.
Mr. Yamamoto stood up and walked to the console. After pressing a few buttons, the banks of screens filled up with Japanese websites.
“Betting websites. Let’s see...” He scrolled through them, scanning the columns of figures. “This reminds me of a scam I came across in the forties – but on a larger scale, much larger...yes, indeed,” he said, pointing out some of the kanji. “The odds on the match have changed again, and they are even more strongly in Japan’s favour since we spoke about them yesterday. Everyone has been putting money on them to win the match. But if you put money on England to win, with these odds...and if, say, the star goalkeeper of Japan were to let in a few goals, or be mysteriously injured just before the match...”
“Then if someone bet just one hundred yen on England...” Mimasu said, rising to join Mr. Yamamoto at the console, her eyes flicking over the numbers on the betting websites. Josh guessed she was doing some complicated maths in her head. “They could make...millions.”
Mr. Yamamoto turned to Granny, who nodded.
“I believe we have our motive,” she said. “And a fix on this scale is certainly government business. Team O will take up the investigation.”
Josh let out a long breath. “There’s something else,” he said. “We didn’t see any police cars last night at the restaurant. Shini said he’d phone them, but...”
“I’ll check,” said Nana, turning and tapping her control pad. One of the screens filled with long strings of numbers and she scanned them as they scrolled past. “No,” she said. “I see no call to the police from the restaurant yesterday.”
“Why wouldn’t he call them?” Jessica asked.
“Perhaps the mysterious gambler warned him against it – he could have threatened to hurt Shini, or his parents, if Shini went to the police.”
“We had better tread carefully,” said Mr. Nakamura. “If they find out we’re on the case they might think Shini has called us in and do something even more drastic.”
“I’ll put out a protection call on the Hanzos,” Nana said. “Other field agents will keep an eye on them until we have discovered the source of the threat.”
“And how do we do that?” Jessica asked. “Plenty of people would be interested in making millions on a bet. It isn’t much to go on.”
“We need to find another lead,” Granny said. She finished her tea, set the cup down in its saucer decisively and turned to Josh and Jessica. “You two will attend the reception this evening as planned – but now you will be there on business, not pleasure. Be on your guard for threats against Shini, and look out for anything that might be a clue. I don’t want you to take unnecessary risks,” she added sternly. Josh thought she might’ve seen the gleam in his eye at the thought of officially working for Team O again. He couldn’t help it. He’d be attending a posh reception to stop a possible international gambling fix!
Granny went on, “We must find out who is responsible for this, and soon – it’s already Wednesday, so we have two full days to make sure that Shini is safe and gets to the match on Saturday. You will have remote backup from the team, in case anything goes wrong.” She nodded at Mimasu, who nodded back and headed towards her workshop.
“I’ll bring out the latest,” Mimasu muttered as she disappeared through the doorway.
Josh exchanged glances with Jessica, who looked just as excited as he was. He could guess what “the latest” meant – secret-agent gadgets. James Bond had nothing on the Murata family!
Even though he was worried for Shini, Josh couldn’t help a bubble of excitement rising in his chest. He and his sister were about to become government agents for the second time in as many weeks. Scary, but on the other hand, he thought...I can’t wait!
“Does it look okay?” Jessica asked. She gave Josh a twirl as the lift swished up towards the fancy bar on the twenty-seventh floor of the Shangri-La Hotel. She was wearing a blue embroidered silk shirt and a black skirt.
Josh shrugged. “There are about a billion mirrors in this lift,” he pointed out. “But yeah, very pretty, I suppose.”
Jessica rolled her eyes at him. “I mean, can you see where I’ve got my radio mic hidden in my collar? You’re lucky, it’s not so difficult to hide kit in a posh suit.”
“That’s certainly true,” said Mr. Yamamoto’s voice in Josh’s ear. “I once smuggled eighteen swords out from under the nose of the Black Fist Gang, under cover of a Venetian ball. And I still had time to dance with the Grand Duke’s wife, and – oh, all right, Mimi. Perhaps that is a story for another time.”
Josh smiled as he imagined the frosty expression on Granny’s face. With Mimasu’s amazing invisible ear-buds it felt as if Team O were standing right beside him. Josh looked himself up and down in the mirror. His suit was a sort of greyish-black, and ridiculously swanky. Last time he checked, he was a wannabe comic book artist from North London, not some kind of ambassador. He wondered if all secret agents felt this weird the first time they wore a tuxedo.
“Good luck, kids.” It was Sachiko’s voice. “Don’t forget to use your secret cameras if you need to get a record of anything.”
“We won’t,” Josh and Jessica replied. Josh lifted his watch to eye-level and pointed the practically sub-atomic camera
in its side at one of the mirrors, catching a good shot of him and Jessica standing side by side in their finery.
“One for the holiday album,” he joked.
The lift opened, and they gave their names to a uniformed doorman, who waved them through into the Welcome Reception.
The players were all there, dressed in suits that were even smarter than Josh’s, with crisp lines and expensive-looking clips on their ties. A few of the Japanese players wore suits that looked like a fusion of Eastern and Western styles, with bright silk prints and thin black neckties. There were a lot more people too, women dressed in elegant cocktail dresses or traditional embroidered kimonos, waiters, and journalists with blue security badges on their lapels.
Josh looked around for Shini, and spotted him standing below a large, beautiful painting of snow-capped mountains breaking through a cloud. He was chatting to the England manager and one of the journalists. He looked quite cheerful, and this place did seem safe – there were several security guards on the doors, and the twins had had to be given a special key to even get the elevator to stop at the right floor. Still, Josh made sure to keep Shini in sight as much as possible as they milled around the party.
The reception was in full swing. The players had obviously got over the shock of this morning and they were laughing and joking together again, under the appreciative eyes of the various officials, important businessmen and journalists.
“Go on,” Takeshi Higa was saying, as he gave Jamie Elton an encouraging grin. “Do it like I taught you.”
“Ha...hajimey...ma...shayter,” Elton said, bowing low to one of the journalists, who roared with laughter.
“Hajimemashite,” he said, bowing back. The group of people they were standing with all smiled and laughed...except for one man. Kobayashi.
Josh’s eyes narrowed. “Hey Jess, look,” he said, tapping her on the shoulder.
“He doesn’t look any more comfortable, does he?” Jessica said, turning to glance at the Minister.
Kobayashi was bowing and shaking the hand of the England manager, but he still looked really stiff. There was something about him, Josh thought, the way his eyes scanned the room, as if he was looking for someone, but couldn’t see them.
“As if he was looking for someone...” he repeated aloud, under his breath.
“Huh?” Jessica asked.
“It’s just...this morning, I first saw the concrete block because I was watching Kobayashi, and his eyes flicked up. I think he looked up...before it fell,” he whispered.
“Are you sure?” Jessica looked at Kobayashi again, her eyes wide with suspicion.
“Not a hundred per cent. But...maybe ninety-five per cent.”
“That’s quite a lot of per cent,” Jessica murmured.
“Even if he just saw something moving before I did,” Josh went on, the pieces sliding together in his head, “I didn’t hear him call out or try to move anyone. Did you?”
Jessica shook her head. “Not after it fell... But before, remember, he was rearranging the players?”
“Of course!”
Josh wanted to smack his hand to his forehead, and only just stopped himself when he felt the weight of the secret camera around his wrist. Incognito, remember?
“Mr. Yamamoto,” he whispered, pretending to scratch his ear so he could tap the ear-bud to make sure it was working. It buzzed. “Are you there?”
“We’re here, Josh,” Mr. Yamamoto said. “We hear you. Mimasu-san is checking out your Minister Kobayashi’s government records as we speak. Keep an eye on him.”
“Hai,” Josh whispered. “Come on, let’s get closer. I have stuff I can ask the manager as a cover.” They made their way through the crowd, navigating by the distinctive blond hair of one of the footballers, but when they arrived in the place where Kobayashi had been standing, he had already gone.
“Argh,” Jessica said under her breath. “Lost him.”
“Nana-san,” Mr. Yamamoto’s voice rang in Josh’s ear. “Take a look at the CCTV, where has Minister Kobayashi gone to?”
“That’s him,” said Mimasu. “The tall, fragile-looking one.”
“He’s left the room – he’s out in one of the service corridors,” said Nana’s voice. “Through the door beside the bar. There’s a...” The voice cut out.
What? Josh thought, holding his breath. There’s a what?
Jessica raised her hand as if to play with her hair, and tapped her earphone.
“Hello?” she whispered.
“...waiter, he’s...” Nana’s voice came back, and immediately went away again. “...food on a tray. They’re having...not happy at all. Something about the food...”
Josh swallowed. “If you can hear us, Mimasu-san, there’s something wrong with the earpieces,” he whispered. He turned to look for the door beside the bar, and his throat tightened. A waiter had just entered the room through the door, carrying a plate of food. Kobayashi was nowhere to be seen – was he still in the back corridor? Josh watched the waiter walk across the room. The other waiters glided across the carpeted floor like dancers, but this man stomped. He was big, wearing a waistcoat that didn’t do up completely across his chest...and he was making a beeline straight for a small group of players – among them Takeshi...and Shini.
“Come on!” Jessica hissed. They dodged back through the crowd as the waiter approached Shini’s corner of the room.
“Delicious canapés,” Josh heard the waiter say as they drew closer. “You must try one, Hanzo-sama.”
Josh ducked under a player’s arm and around a woman in a black dress, longing to shout a warning – but how could he explain what was going on? He just had to get to Shini, to stop him taking the food...
“Team O, come in!” Jessica whispered frantically behind him. “Can you hear us, Granny? We need you!” Panic made her voice tremble, but Josh hadn’t time to panic, he just had to get to Shini...
“Ooh,” Takeshi grinned. “Looks good!” He snatched the little circle of bread and paté that Shini was reaching for, and tossed it into his mouth. He started to chew, crumbs falling from his lips. He swallowed hard and reached for another appetizer. Soon he’d eaten three or four, his cheeks red. His cheeks were too red... Then a crease appeared in his brow. His smile froze on his face and he bent over in a violent coughing fit. Josh pushed past a couple of journalists to run to Takeshi’s side. He was clutching at his throat, his eyes wide with fear.
“Takeshi? What’s wrong?” Shini was saying. He grabbed hold of Takeshi, who was coughing hard, his knees buckling. Josh looked around for the waiter. He was already making a run for it, dropping the canapé tray to the floor and pushing through the bemused crowd before they realized what was happening.
“Takeshi’s been...something’s happened,” Jessica said. Josh saw her remember their cover and clench her teeth over the word “poisoned” halfway through the sentence. “He needs an ambulance!”
“Kkkkkkssssssshhhh...” Josh winced as a static crackling hissed into his ear. “Nakamura-san will...don’t let the waiter get...”
Shini stared at Jessica, then plunged his hands into his pockets and pulled out a mobile phone. “Is there a doctor here?” he called out to the assembled, shocked guests. He tapped a number into his phone, but the signal was weak.
“We’ll, um, go and ask at reception,” Jessica improvised. “Come on!” She grabbed Josh’s arm and they dodged out of the crowd that was forming around Shini and Takeshi. As they passed a waitress, she paused and Josh nearly ran into Jessica’s back. “Can someone call an ambulance? One of the players is really ill.”
The waitress’s eyes widened as she saw Takeshi doubled up. She nodded and ran towards the main doors.
“Come on. We can’t let that waiter get away,” Jessica hissed to Josh, as they started pushing through the crowds again.
They were just in time to see the man yank open the door behind the bar. Josh swallowed hard, and put on a burst of speed. If anything serious happened to Takeshi...
/> The twins pushed past the stunned bar manager, and slammed open the door that the waiter had gone through. The short corridor beyond was obviously not a visitor area, with its bare plaster walls and faint smell of dishwashers. It was empty, but they could hear echoing footsteps, getting fainter.
“We’re following the waiter,” Josh said, hoping Team O could hear him. He and Jessica sprinted to the other end of the corridor. The only door was marked Fire Exit, and Josh pushed it open to find himself in a cold, brightly lit stairwell. Tiled stairs led both up and down, with a black metal banister between them and a long drop down to the ground floor. Josh stopped and held his breath, listening. The footsteps were still sounding, somewhere below them.
“He’s heading down the fire exit,” Josh whispered.
“Oh, good, stairs again,” Jessica sighed, leaning on the black metal banister and looking down. Josh took a deep breath. The last time they’d chased a crook down a flight of stairs, they’d had to be rescued by Granny. This time, she probably had no idea where they were.
“I don’t think he’s heard us,” Josh whispered. He motioned Jessica to follow him as quickly and quietly as she could. Josh moved forward down the stairs, still listening out for the footsteps of the waiter. It sounded like he wasn’t running – his footsteps were slow and even.
The sign for floor eighteen passed by, then floor seventeen. As they passed the door to floor sixteen Jessica stopped dead. Josh turned to look at her, his eyebrows raised. What? Jessica tugged her ear. Josh listened, and heard...nothing. The footsteps had stopped. No! The waiter was getting away. Josh launched into a run, two steps at a time, kicking off the wall at the turn of the stairs.
“Josh!” Jessica cried, and Josh looked up just in time to see a huge figure looming into his field of vision, fist first.
The waiter had been hiding just around the corner. Josh threw up his arms as the punch hit him, and fell back hard onto his elbows, trying to swallow a cry of pain as his bones smacked into the stairs.
The waiter vaulted over Josh, his big boots smacking down on the landing above.
