“We’ve been instructed to tell you that has been delayed until further notice.”
Totally mystified, and now becoming concerned, for her immunity agreement was tied to finding the compound, she got into the back of the cruiser. As they drove, she looked yet again at her phone, hoping she’d missed the ding of a text from Ernie.
Her screen was blank.
* * *
At the formerly peaceful Travis mansion, chaos ruled. Flashing police cruisers blocked both ends of the street. Wearing a bright orange jacket that glowed in the occasional headlight, a police officer waved approaching vehicles to turn around. Yellow tape was strung all around the huge trees fronting the street, as well as the mansion’s heavy wrought-iron fence.
Various forensic personnel, including Abigail Doyle, wore gloves as, under very bright lights set up in the street, they carefully examined every inch of the grass. Their trained eyes knew what to look for, but from their resigned expressions, even they seemed to think seeking the minutest hair strand or clothing lint in the dark was foolish. They’d hoped for a casing, but Zach knew they wouldn’t be that lucky. Whoever took the shots no doubt had picked up his spent shells before he left.
Pissed they’d been caught napping, Zach grilled each and every member of the security detail for the third time. In between, he glanced occasionally at Ms. Doyle. She was very systematic, working in a grid system around the trees, making copious screen shots of every angle with her iPad. That compilation would later help with the ballistics.
Another man dusted with high-tech powder, trying to pick up fingerprint samples from the trees themselves. Yet a third had climbed the big oak, his thin form totally hidden in the thick foliage. Really, it was no wonder they’d not spotted the shooter, but now Zach second-guessed himself. Why the hell hadn’t he insisted the trees be pruned down to the trunk?
The guy in the tree yelled, “Here it is! There’s a homemade rifle rest!”
They all waited while he took measurements and careful pictures. Finally he half shimmied, half jumped down, two pieces of wood nailed together in a rough V in his free gloved hand. After the print forensics analyst dusted for prints, he offered it to Zach. Zach, also gloved, turned the crossed pieces of wood in his hands, noting the slightly darkened ends where the fresh cuts in the wood had been exposed to a recent rain. It appeared as if it had been constructed out of short pieces of two-by-fours and nailed into a V of the tree—directly opposite the study window.
Zach and Abby exchanged a grim look.
She said with concern, “From the weathered look of the wood, this was planned, not opportunistic.”
“Could be they put it there before we even hired our security detail. Which means they must have been scoping us out for days. . . .” Zach’s voice trailed away, but Abby finished his thought.
“Since Ms. Nakatomi first went for the sword.” They exchanged an even grimmer look.
Zach couldn’t voice the suspicion that dried his saliva, but Abby had no such compunction.
She said slowly, “Do you think she’s been lying to us? That she’s really been working with Kai all along? Is it possible we think we’re trying to turn her into an informant, but she’s already one for him?”
Zach shook his head adamantly. “I don’t care what the time frame is, I don’t believe she’d ever endanger her son and her friend by working with that monster, especially after he left her in jail when she was pregnant.”
Abby reminded him, “Yes, but if Mr. Thibodeaux is correct, Kai didn’t know she was pregnant.”
Zach ignored that. He carefully bagged the tree rest. “Besides, just because the rest has been there for several days, it doesn’t mean someone has been hidden there all that time. Why would they risk exposure until they were ready to fire? Not good tactics.”
Abby nodded a bit uncertainly at that logic, but she was obviously still bothered by the matching time frame.
They were still working when a cruiser came up and Hana Nakatomi, the katana strapped to her back, got out of the backseat, shunning the trooper’s helping hand. She stood very still for a moment, watching all the activity. Zach and Abby went to meet her. They both watched her expressions and mannerisms closely, but she displayed neither shock nor satisfaction, only a curious fatalism. She shifted the sword slightly, as if it felt burdensome.
She looked at Zach’s cold expression. Something vulnerable flickered in her eyes under the bright lights, but then she lifted her chin and stepped up to him until they were toe to toe. “There’s obviously been another attack, but I’ll save us both an interrogation. I was at Ernie’s place all day, practicing in his ring while I waited for your men to arrive for our trip to the compound. I had the security system on and I’m sure they can verify that I didn’t shut it off until thirty minutes ago when the troopers picked me up.”
“Easy enough for someone with your skill set to circumvent,” Zach pointed out.
“Easy enough for you to pull Ernie’s video footage too.” She stared up at him with an unflinching gaze. She proffered the key Ernie had given her. “I’ll wait.” She held up her ankle bracelet by raising her foot. “But then, you always know where I am anyway, don’t you? All you have to do is make one phone call to confirm.”
Zach relaxed slightly, but he accepted the key and gave it to the same senior trooper who’d brought her. The trooper turned back to his cruiser without another word.
“I was told your father wanted to see me?” Hana asked, not even watching him go.
Zach glanced at Abby, but she waved him toward the house. “I can finish here.”
And so, a few minutes later, Hana and John Travis stared at one another across his wide desk. Hana seemed too fidgety to sit, so she paced in front of his desk, totally unaware of the leashed athleticism and sensuality she displayed in her tight clothing as she strode up and down. But Zach was all too aware. With the katana sheathed to her back, her long black hair flowing like luminous, liquid silk around her shoulders, she was the sexy ninja chick of every male fantasy. Zach shifted uncomfortably, crossing his legs, but since that only proved her effect on him, he rested both his feet flat on the floor and hoped neither his father nor Hana looked in his direction.
Luckily, they were far too intent on their battle of wits and wills to pay him any heed. On one of her trips toward the windows, Hana tested the bullet holes in the window with her gloved fingertip. Even more restive, she stalked from one side of the study to the other, answering John’s rapid-fire questions all the while.
“No, I’m not a good shot with a long-range rifle—”
“Yes, I’m dressed this way because I’ve been in Ernie’s ring most of the day practicing.”
And: “No, I had no idea your house was under surveillance the night I broke in. I’ve already told you my source was a maid fired from your service. I assure you Kai and I have not been sharing information.”
She paused long enough to hear Zach’s explanation about the likely weathering of the tree rest they’d found that possibly matched the date of her visit. She said curtly, “Kai knew I was coming for the blade, so it’s possible he sent someone to keep an eye on me. But I used that tree to climb over your wall and there was no one there that night. That I’m sure of.”
“Who in Kai’s organization has the skill to use a sniper rifle like that?” John demanded.
Hana shrugged. “They all train with weapons of every type, including pistols and rifles. Ninja stars, blowing darts, everything. I’ve also seen them use night-vision technology.” She looked at the holes in the heavy leaded glass windows and then back. “I’d suggest you cover your windows with shutters and rearrange your furniture so your desk is away from any possible surveillance with heat-sensing goggles.”
Finally, John’s stiff posture began to relax. He said, “Of course. We’ve thought of that. He won’t get another chance.”
Hana looked at him as if he were crazy. “You really don’t understand what you’re dealing with, do you?
”
John scowled. “A particularly vicious drug dealer. We nail them all the time.”
Hana stopped her pacing directly in front of his desk. She shook her head in an almost pitying manner, her hair flying like a black warning flag. “No. He’s much worse than that. Kai believes he’s the last of the samurai, but his only fealty is to himself. The fact that he wasn’t born to that lineage makes him much more dangerous. He feels all the allure of the power and triumph over enemies, but very little of the counterbalance of honor. This is why he wants our sword so badly. It legitimizes him, not just in his own eyes, but it will frighten his rivals because they will know what he wants to do with it and its long legacy of bloodletting.” She pulled it from its sheath and held it so it caught the dim light.
Even in the illumination of the single wall sconce, the polished steel edge gleamed as she turned the blade from side to side. “Do you remember all the tales of Excalibur? How the legend said that removing it from the stone gave Arthur the throne? Well, amp that legend up by about ten and you come close to understanding the significance of a Masamune blade to the Japanese. The annals of Japan are much bloodier than the mists of Avalon, with decapitated heads our measurement of valor, and seppuku the ultimate choice between death or dishonor. And while modern Japan is much too civilized to practice such things, Kai was brought up in the Yakuza. When he came here, he decided to create his own near-religion by combining the cultures of the samurai, the ninja, and El Chapo.”
Even John paled a bit at that analogy. He looked at his son. Zach saw his father remembering Abby and Ross’s slide show warning about this very mix and its influence on the illicit drug trade in central Texas.
Zach said quietly, “You sound like you were almost a convert yourself.”
She turned on him. She bit her lip savagely, leaving it red. He suddenly longed to kiss her again, not passionately as he had in the hospital, but gently, sweetly, like the champion she so sorely needed—whether she knew it or not.
She had to swallow hard to master her emotions, but the glitter of tears was hidden when she shuttered her eyes with long, dark lashes. She began haltingly, but her voice grew stronger with every word. “Yes. I was. I was an impressionable sixteen-year-old. My father had just died and he was my anchor. My mother left me to return to Japan when I would not conform to her notions of a marriageable young woman.” She looked back at each man in turn, her face now composed. “I won’t make any excuses for that. I wouldn’t have Takeo otherwise. But yes, I lived firsthand under the power of Kai’s twisted ideals. He is very charismatic. So please heed my warning not to take him lightly. And there’s one more thing.” She braced herself, as if she knew they wouldn’t like her next remark.
“It would not surprise me if he has an informant somewhere in your division.”
John started a protest but Hana interrupted him. “I suggest you quietly start checking on that. The last thing we need is for Kai to know the date and time of our incursion.” Again, she looked between both men. “Just be aware as you plan your raid that Kai will use any tactic of his three religions that will help him win his territory against rival gangs, and—”
She brought the sword straight up before her face in a salute “—against the Texas Rangers. Including implicating me in murders I didn’t commit and acts of violence I’d never countenance.” She cradled the sword over her bent arm, as if for comfort, as she added, “Kai wants my son for his heir. Probably even now he’s indoctrinating Takeo, or trying.” For the first time, she smiled and such love transformed her face that Zach’s breath caught in his throat. She looked over John’s head at the wallpaper, but she was obviously seeing her son.
At that moment, Zach knew he’d been kidding himself ever since the strange night they’d met. Even when he was having her arrested, he was in lust with this woman. And if she proved to be as honest and reformed as Ernie claimed, he knew he’d fall deeply in love with her too. Family approval would then be immaterial to him.
At that moment, he also vowed to see that expression again, except with a very adult, female focus. Of one thing he was certain: Since that passionate kiss, she lusted for him too.
Hana’s next comment brought him back to the present. This time, his thoughts had made his predicament quite hard, literally, and he had to take a magazine from his dad’s desk and hold it on his lap. He pretended to leaf through it to distract himself.
Hana gave him a curious look at his seeming inattention, but finished: “But my son is quite perceptive for a five-year-old. He’s also very intelligent. I believe he’s smart enough to see the vicious inconsistencies in his father’s teachings. So . . . we have a few days to prepare, anyway.” A long pause, then she added, “There’s something else you must know.”
She waited until both men had fixed their worried gazes on her. John had been recording her the entire time, and Zach knew from his expression that his father was deliberately letting her talk. John Travis knew from many interrogations that when persons of interest spoke, it was best to let them ramble, because that’s usually when the most useful information surfaced. Zach gave his father a look. John didn’t even glance his way.
Hana said quietly, “No matter what happens during the raid, once we get Takeo and hopefully Ernie out of danger, I’m expendable. Use me however you will, but don’t let Kai get away with this sword. He’ll believe himself invincible then. If I have to fight him hand-to-hand to protect it, I will, but he’s practiced much more than I have over the last few years—”
Zach surged to his feet, the magazine falling to the floor. “No! You’re just an informant, not a—not a—” He was relieved when Hana’s gaze switched to his face. He also felt his father’s stare at the wrong place, but he’d have to deal with that later.
Hana was obviously too offended to notice or care about his other feelings. For the first time, she showed a tinge of anger. “Samurai? You think females in Japan didn’t act as samurai? You’d be wrong. Many women died in battle, protecting their lands and loved ones. I have that right too.” Without asking, she grabbed a pen off John’s desk and scribbled a name.
John read out loud, “Nakano Takeko?” He stumbled a bit over the pronunciation.
“I suggest you both look up her history. She was one of many valiant samurai women who fought against the emperor’s men in the 1860s. She took to the field of battle, leading women from her household to protect their lands because their men were away. She fought so fiercely that one of the soldiers fighting for the emperor was afraid to engage her hand-to-hand. He resorted to shooting her from a distance. When she lay dying on the battlefield, she begged her sister to cut off her head rather than leave it as a trophy for the enemy. Her sister did so and today her head is interred in a place of honor beneath a Japanese shrine.”
While both men digested this, she stepped back, admiring her family blade again. “There are worse deaths than dying beneath an enemy’s blade.”
Over their silence, after a slight bow, Hana shoved the sword back in its sheath. With the sound of steel brushing against steel ringing in the air, she added softly, “Our goals are aligned, Mr. Travis. We both want to stop Kai. We both want to protect my son and the sword.”
She smiled sadly at Zach. “Did you not consider when you convinced your father to let me borrow the blade that I’m the only one who knows how to use it?”
Chapter 11
Hours later, with dawn finally tingeing the sky orange, Hana signed the affidavit recording her third interrogation. The trooper returned with the video footage showing her practicing in Ernie’s ring for hours, confirmed both by the GPS tracking data emitted by her ankle bracelet and the video time stamp. They told her she was free to go.
She didn’t need to be told twice. They’d rearranged her trip to find the compound for the following night and still hadn’t heard from Ernie. She was making a beeline for the front door when she found her path blocked. The short, rotund woman in an apron had a full, winsome face that looked
as if it had not been constructed for such a severe expression.
Hana almost laughed at the assessing scowl in those dark eyes made for laughing.
She looked Hana up and down and then moved two steps to block the door. “You come with me. The mistress wishes to meet you.” She crossed her arms over her generous bosom. “We have coffee and biscuits on the patio.”
The twinkle in Hana’s eyes went out. She’d been bossed around enough by these people, and now the housekeeper too? “Thank you, but no. I accept the fact that I’m not welcome here, and I don’t feel comfortable. It’s best for all concerned if I just go.”
She moved aside a few steps, but the woman closed the gap by likewise stepping sideways.
“No. Just a moment, please.”
Hana opened her mouth to refuse again, but before their confrontation could escalate, Zach entered the foyer from the study. He caught his housekeeper from behind to give her a bear hug. “Numero dos mamacita, qué pasó?”
With the familiarity of a second mother indeed, she whacked his hands away. “Basta! Tell this impert—impur—”
“Impertinent,” he corrected her gently. Then he looked back at Hana. “She is that. And much more . . .”
The way that blue gaze ran over her, head to heels, heated away the last of her cold desolation along with her willpower. How much more fun it had been to let him lead in Jiji’s hospital room. But such thoughts brought pink to her cheeks, so she pretended to study the art-filled niches lining the foyer.
“Please stay long enough for a cup of coffee,” he asked Hana. Nicely. Like a true Southern gentleman instead of a Texas Ranger who suspected her of gruesome murders.
How could she say no after that? For once he wasn’t being lord of the Travis dynasty. His expression put his dimples on display, and his eyes were such a sunny blue she found herself nodding.
Travis Justice Page 13
