by H. J. Lawson
“Are you okay, Parker?” Scarlet asks.
I pause for a moment, and remember this is a dream, even though it feels painfully real. “Yeah. Where are we going now?” I ask.
“Our assignment is to protect her,” Scarlet says, as though trying to work something out in her own head, “so turning her over to the police should do the trick.”
“I suppose,” I say, my hand continuously running over Tora’s back. She buried her face in my shoulder and refused to move once we got into the car.
“Why do you think they laughed back at the house when Kimi said to take her there?”
“I don’t know. That’s what’s been running through my head. But really, if she told us to take her there, it's for a good reason.”
“True, why would they lie? Now what?”
“So we’ll report what happened and turn her over to them. That should send us home.”
“Okay,” I say, but I don’t feel it. Anger burns in my chest as I draw Tora closer to me. It isn’t right, really. They shouldn’t be letting this happen to this poor little girl. She’s defenseless. If we hadn’t shown up… but, again, I suppose that’s the point, isn’t it? We’re here to save her.
“How did they know where to find Tora and her family?”
“Hmm?” It takes Scarlet a minute to focus on me, so lost is she in her own thoughts.
“Vandir’s men?”
“They probably do what I did. They look her up on the Internet or city records or whatever computer files they can access and track her by big events in her life.”
“Like what?”
“Her birth. Her christening. School plays and award programs. Graduations. Things that make the newspapers or generate new city records.”
I glance down at Tora’s dark head and wonder what happened to her these last few days that would have drawn them to her now. Today.
Scarlet brings the car to a halt. “Let me do the talking.”
I smile. “Yeah, I was thinking that, with me not speaking Japanese.”
She rolls her eyes and gets out of the car. She really is fun to be around.
Tora is still clinging to my body. My arms burn from her weight as I carry her, hopefully for the last time, up the police station’s steps. She’s lighter than the groceries my mom makes me carry into the house once a week. And that seems sad. Such a tiny child… she shouldn’t be caught up in this mess.
We walk inside the surprisingly modern building. It looks kind of like I imagine American police stations might look. There are chairs positioned along the walls and a large window at the back of the room that reveals a young woman in a pretty blue blouse, with her shiny black hair resting neatly on her shoulders.
“Here goes nothing.” Scarlet speaks to the woman in quick Japanese. The woman responds in a voice so small and feminine that I can’t imagine it holds much authority. Scarlet bows her head and speaks to her in a soft, reverent voice just the same.
“She’s going to get an inspector,” Scarlet tells me. At my slight frown, she says, “An inspector here is like a detective back in the states.”
“Oh.”
We have barely sat down before a man steps through a door I hadn’t seen earlier. He smiles politely, his eyes taking in everything about us, from the child in my arms to the bag slung over Scarlet’s shoulder.
“You are American?” he asks in surprisingly clear English.
“We are,” Scarlet says.
“Can you tell me what happened?”
Scarlet glances at me, like she’s telling me to let her talk. Then she begins.
“We found this little girl just wandering around downtown. My brother and I tried to find someone who knew her, but there was no one. So we asked her some questions and she gave us this address. There was a shooting when we got there.”
“Was anyone hurt?”
“Just the man who was coming outside to greet us. The girl says he’s her grandfather.”
The inspector nods, his expression thoughtful. He kneels in front of me and touches Tora’s hand. He speaks to her in soft Japanese for a long minute. I can see when she tells him her name because his expression changes, becomes more intent.
Instinctively, I tighten my grip on Tora’s slight body.
When Tora stops speaking, the inspector rolls back on his heels for a long second. Then he stands and takes Scarlet’s hand lightly between both of his.
“You’ve done the right thing,” he says. “We can take it from here.”
There’s relief on Scarlet’s face. “Thank you.”
“Just give me the child and leave your names with the officer at the front desk.”
Scarlet turns to me, a smile on her pretty face. She bends close and whispers in Japanese to Tora. Tora doesn’t like what she says because she tightens her grip on me. But Scarlet says something else and Tora slowly lets me go.
She turns to the officer and shyly takes his proffered hand. But as she walks away, she shoots a look at me and I have this sick feeling that we’ve just made a terrible mistake.
Chapter 18
I follow Scarlet outside a moment later. She gave a name to the officer, but it is clearly not her real name. And the one she used for me? Channing Tatum. How ironic is that?
“Channing Tatum? Really? What if they knew who he was?”
“Parker. I don’t think they would ever get you and him confused. Trust me on that.”
The sun has gone down, hiding behind the city’s skyscrapers, and the air has a little chill to it. It reminds me of those days at the end of summer, when dad and I would play baseball in Central Park. I would beg him to let us stay there for longer, and he would always say, “five more minutes,” which would equal an extra hour. It was always dark by the time we got home. I would give anything to have just five more minutes with him.
Now I can, if what Scarlet said is true. I really want to believe it is.
I wish for a jacket, but all the wishing in the world isn’t going to make it appear. I’m ready to go home, to wake in my own bed. And find out if this was just one weird dream or not. Maybe insomnia isn’t so bad if this is what comes with a good night’s sleep.
“What now?” I ask as Scarlet stops at the bottom of the steps, looking around like something is missing.
“We should have gone by now,” she says.
“What do you mean?”
“If protecting Tora was our assignment, and handing her over to the cops accomplished that, we should be back in our present now.”
“But we aren’t.”
“Obviously, Einstein. Something’s wrong.”
Scarlet brushes past me as she runs back up the steps, tearing open the door of the police station so roughly that she nearly pushes over a poor taxi driver who was trying to come out the door from the other side. She mumbles something in Japanese and breezes past him.
I’m left standing there like a fool.
After realizing I really have no choice, I rush to follow, saying “sorry” as I go.
Scarlet is arguing with the pretty young woman she was speaking with earlier. It is clear that things are not going well, despite the soft tones of the officer.
Where’s Tora? Anger bubbles inside me. Where is she? I look around the police station. She’s nowhere to be seen.
“She doesn’t know where he took Tora,” Scarlet says to me.
“She must be here somewhere.”
“Clearly. But where? It’s a big building.”
“If I were trying to kidnap a little girl, I’d get her out of the last known location as soon as possible.”
Scarlet, who has also been checking out our options, glances at me. “That’s kind of brilliant, Parker.”
I shrug, a blush burning my cheeks. But, of course, she doesn’t notice. She’s already rushing out of the building. Once again, I’m left behind, looking like a fool.
I follow, nearly tripping over my own feet as I run down the front steps. I don’t see Scarlet, but it’s pretty obviou
s they aren’t going to take Tora out through the front. I run around the back of the building and reach the back alley just as a police car races out of an underground parking area, nearly running over Scarlet in the process.
And there’s Tora, screaming in the back seat.
Scarlet doesn’t hesitate. She immediately runs into the parking garage. I can hear car tires screeching, can hear people around us, and I know this is a really bad idea. We’re about to steal a car from a police station, for goodness’ sakes! But I follow behind her, watching over my shoulder in case someone should come too close.
Now I hope this is a dream! I would never do anything like this in reality. The chances of getting caught are too great, and a boy like me would not do well in juvenile detention. I can’t even survive the hallways of my high school!
I run around to the passenger’s side. Before I can even get my seatbelt on, she’s started the car and she’s pulling out of the parking spot.
We race to the same exit the car carrying Tora drove through, and pull out into traffic, the super-light back end of the car fishtailing with the quick turn. I don’t see anything at first, just a line of cars that are in our way. But then, finally…
“Up there, to the right!”
“I see them.”
Just as Scarlet guns the car and speeds around a couple of slow-moving taxis, sirens begin to blare behind us. I turn in my seat and watch as two police cars come speeding up behind us.
“We have company.”
“Can’t do anything about it right now,” Scarlet says.
I watch as the police cruisers speed around the cars that separate us. They’re close on our tail in just a matter of seconds. The funny thing is, though, the driver of each police car is dressed in black.
“Those aren’t cops. They’re Vandir’s men,” Scarlet says.
“What’s going on? Why do they want Tora so much?”
“I don’t know. It’s not like we come into these assignments with a whole dossier on what’s going on. We just do what we have to do and go back to our lives,” Scarlet scowls at me.
I turn back around just in time to see the car carrying Tora turn down a narrow side street.
“There!”
“I know, I know.”
Scarlet barely makes the turn, the front of the car clipping another car that’s parked too close to the corner. The impact makes the wheel jerk in Scarlet’s hands and it looks like she might lose control for an instant. But then she gets it back under control and guns the engine again, making up for lost time in mere seconds. The police car is still nearly half a mile ahead of us, but it’s easier to see on this side street where there’s less traffic.
Unfortunately, that makes us more easily spotted by the police cruisers following closely behind. However, the second one clips the same car we did and it careens out of control, slamming into the side of a building with a deafening crunch of metal on metal.
“One down.”
I almost laugh. This is so much like one of my video games that it’s not even funny. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to live inside a video game.
Welcome to your fantasy, Parker!
The car in front of us makes another turn. Scarlet curses quietly under her breath as she struggles to follow. Just as she’s about to make the turn, the car behind us slams into our back bumper.
Scarlet wrenches the wheel and the car goes flying around the corner. I’m pretty sure the back tires lift off the ground, but we make the turn. The back end fishtails a little as we straighten out, but quickly Scarlet has the car flying once again. The car behind us? Not so lucky. The driver misses the turn. I twist in my seat and watch him slam on his brakes, the car skidding so fiercely against the pavement that smoke billows from its tires. By the time the driver manages to get backed up and turned, we’re three or four blocks ahead of him. But I can hear the engine as the driver guns it to catch up.
“Better speed up.”
“We’re going as fast as this car can go.”
I turn around again, relieved to see the car with Tora still just a half mile ahead of us. It looks like they’re slowing down, though.
And then we jerk forward as the car behind us slams into us again. Scarlet curses under her breath, twisting the wheel so that we don’t careen into the side of a building. But the car behind us slams into our bumper yet again.
“Hold on,” she says, her jaws so tight that she grits the words out between clenched teeth.
She speeds around a building, nearly driving right into a man on a bicycle. She slams her hand on the horn, cursing as she speeds up even as the alley gets more and more narrow.
“We’re going to get stuck!”
She ignores me.
I turn to see what’s happening behind us. The bigger car is catching up to us quite quickly. I want to scream. I know they’re going to slam into the back of the car again and Scarlet will lose control. But just as it gets close, like some sort of mechanical monster set on eating us, it suddenly stops. It stops so hard that the driver bounces up and kisses the windshield.
They’re wedged between two buildings. The alley is too narrow for them.
We, on the other hand, burst out onto a busy street, clipping another parked car. And then we’re back on the street, racing back to where we last saw the police car with Tora inside.
We see them just ahead. Scarlet slows down, her jaw tight with tension. She’s seen something. Or she knows something.
And she doesn’t like it.
A sense of dread settles over me.
It’s just a dream. Nothing bad can happen.
But somehow, I find it increasingly difficult to believe it.
Chapter 19
After a few more miles, the car with Tora pulls into another underground parking garage, this one beneath a high-rise hotel. Scarlet pulls the car over to the curb a block away and we watch as the driver of the police car uses some sort of card to gain access to the garage.
“What is this place?”
Scarlet looks up at the side of the building, which has the word “Hilton” on it. It’s all chrome and glass, like something you might see in New York City. Under different circumstances, I might be kind of impressed by it. I’ve always imagined how cool it would be to win the lottery and buy my mom the penthouse suite of a posh hotel like this, a place where she can relax and not worry about anything, where maids do all the housework, we can call out for the laundry, and she can have a masseuse come up to work on that stiff neck she seems to have more and more often these days. This is one of those vacation places for people with a huge number on their bank account balance. Heck, I’m sure some even live in places like this. I could be Bruce Wayne in the time-traveling world. I nod to myself. Good idea, Parker.
“Come on,” Scarlet says, snapping me out of my daydream. She grabs her bag and jumps out of the car.
I follow closely beside her, imitating her casual walk. We move around the side of the building, then quickly cross the street. Scarlet has spotted a small door set into the side of the building. She tries it, but it’s locked. That hasn’t stopped her so far, and this door is the same. She pulls something out of her pocket and she has the door open before I even realize what she’s doing.
We slide inside and find ourselves in a small maintenance area. There are a couple guys detailing some really beautiful cars—a Mercedes Benz Maybach S600 and a Jaguar F-Type—but they don’t even look up when we walk past. Scarlet grabs my hand and runs, pulling me along the side of the dark structure, following the sounds of the police car’s engine.
We find it on the second level, pulling into a parking spot near the elevators. Scarlet drops down into a crouch and pulls me down next to her. As we watch, the inspector, to whom we so freely handed Tora, drags her kicking and screaming out of the car.
The inspector yells at her in Japanese. In response, Tora bites him on the web between his thumb and forefinger. I want to cheer, until the man screams and smacks Tora with
a backhanded slap across the side of her face. Then I want to rush over there and teach that asshole a few things.
Scarlet glances at me, with something like surprise in her eyes. It’s not until then that I realize I’m holding her hand with a death grip. I relax my hold a little, but that does nothing to change the expression on Scarlet’s face. She just stares at me for so long that I begin to feel like a bug under a microscope.
“We should go,” I whisper, gesturing to where the inspector has just dragged Tora onto a closing elevator.
Scarlet kind of shakes herself. “First we need some sort of disguise.”
Before we can move, though, another car comes into the garage. It’s a dark car like those we saw outside Tora’s house a while ago. When it slams to a stop, four or five of the men dressed all in black pile out.
Vandir’s men.
This time Scarlet squeezes my hand.
We wait for them to get onto the elevator before we stand and turn in the opposite direction, heading for the stairs. Scarlet leads the way—as usual—pausing at each landing to make sure we’re still alone. When we reach the right floor, she carefully opens the door, checking both directions before stepping out into the hallway. Lucky for us, there’s an open housekeeping closet right across from us. Scarlet grabs a couple uniforms sitting on a shelf and throws one to me. She pulls the roomy dress over her head and kneels down, rummaging through that bag again.
I pull on the shirt she gave me, wondering how much of a disguise a shirt that’s too big for me will be. Scarlet looks more like a housekeeper than I ever will, not that I would say that out loud to her. But she does. She has this I’ve-seen-just-about-everything look about her that belies her youth. That’s a look I will probably never have.
Another of the curses of being a dweeb, inside and out.
“Here,” Scarlet hisses as I stand guard in the doorway. I turn and she’s holding out a gun to me.
“What do you want me to do with that?”
