Phantom Pearl

by Monica McCabe

  He raced up the zigzag staircase, the width easily accommodating two side-by-side. His breathing grew labored under the exertion, but the thought of Riki in Ken Cho’s hands infuriated him, spurred him on. Just when he thought his lungs would explode, a glowing red exit sign appeared.

  He burst out the door and into the confines of a construction barrier, the one near where they’d parked the Mercedes. A sliver of fear ignited as he raced through dirt and gravel, passed an office trailer and backhoe, and then out to the suburban street.

  He spun every direction. Nothing but an overwhelming sense of despair and the red taillights of a speeding car rounding a corner two blocks away.

  His heart ripped in two.

  He had failed. The Yakuza had Riki.

  Chapter 30

  Agony throbbed in her skull.

  She tried to open her eyes, but the lights burned. Where was she? She struggled to focus, but her brain felt fuzzy, thick, and her body lethargic. She fought through the pain and struggled to clear her aching head enough to assess the situation. What was the last thing she remembered?

  Cho’s room in the embassy. A sting on her neck.

  She’d been ambushed and drugged. Which explained why her head wanted to explode and her mouth felt drier than Death Valley. She was lying prone, her head propped on a folded towel, but she couldn’t move much. Opening her eyes a mere slit, the first thing she realized was she lay on her side on an old Army cot, her wrists secured together with duct tape, and tied to the aluminum frame at the corner next to her head.

  Not good. She took a couple deep breaths and willed herself to stay calm. Was Dallas here? He’d been on the outside with the Pearl. Had Cho gotten him as well? Despite the pain, she opened her eyes wide enough to gauge her surroundings.

  It was big. The air felt cool, but smelled of dust and old wood, along with an underlying odor of fish. A pier? Maybe an industrial warehouse at the docks?

  “You are awake.”

  She knew that voice. Ken Cho. The day of running a step ahead seemed to have ended. He’d won this round, but the battle wasn’t over. “I need to throw up.”

  “The feeling will soon dissipate.”

  “How reassuring.” She hoped the sarcasm came through. “Where am I?”

  “A place you have foolishly pursued.” He scraped a hard, wooden chair across the floor and parked it in front of her. He sat down, meditation beads in his hand. “Now we will talk.”

  Like hell, they would. “Sorry. I’m not in the mood.”

  He smiled as his fingers worked the Mala beads, as though he silently chanted a mantra. Probably praying for her demise. She was certainly imagining his in vivid detail.

  “Tell me about Kai Menita.”

  That was unexpected, but she shouldn’t be surprised. Cho was Shimshi, the newest Yakuza faction and hungry for power. Kai had ties to Koyo, the old guard faction that had long ago controlled the Consortium. The two acted like enemies, an extreme sort of sibling rivalry. Both were Yakuza, but Shimshi currently enjoyed Imperial favor.

  That much made sense. Where it became confusing was Kai himself. He’d sent her to retrieve artifacts targeted by both factions. If he were Koyo, why would he work against them? Was she caught in some twisted battle for dominance? Maybe, but she didn’t think so. The common denominator was Yamashita’s treasure. Someone, imperial or otherwise, pulled the strings, and finding Phantom Pearl seemed to have set off a five-alarm firestorm.

  Heavens above, her brain hurt. And the nausea… She’d kill for something cool to drink. “I need some water,” she demanded.

  “Right after you tell me about Menita.”

  She inhaled long and slow, coaxing oxygen into her blood. “Not much to tell. Kai is a decent sort.” Technically, that was still under debate, but whatever. “He likes the color blue. Enjoys long walks on the beach.”

  “My patience is strained, and flippancy does not serve you well.” He worked a couple more beads. “For your sake, I suggest you take the question seriously.”

  Oh, she did. Very much. Her stomach rebelled, and her head was slow to clear, but she had managed to determine that neither Dallas nor the Pearl were within sight range. The only upside in all this was if Cho hadn’t captured them, he still needed her.

  She also knew the warehouse was huge, with scattered metal poles supporting the two-story high industrial roof. Transom-style windows were far too high for anything other than allowing heat to disperse and provide a light source. Darkness was the only thing coming through right now, and most of the cavernous room lay in shadow, except directly above her cot where harsh fluorescent lighting stabbed her eyes with needles of pain. She squeezed them shut. What the hell did they inject her with? She squirmed, trying to stretch her muscles and get blood flowing again.

  “If you want a rational conversation,” she reasoned, “then untie me.”

  She wanted to sit up, to get deeper bearings and gauge her strength. More than anything, she wished he’d come closer so she could barf on his shoes. Instead, she risked opening her eyes to see if he displayed even an ounce of sympathy she could exploit.

  He stared at her, dead eyes giving away nothing. “You are in no position to be making demands.”

  Nope, no sympathy there. She never did like this guy. Not even a little. “And yet, I’m doing it anyway. Stop acting like a barbarian and allow me to sit up.”

  He ignored her request. “I see why Menita has used you all these years. Obstinate is a desirable quality in a field agent. I am certain you have served him well.”

  That sounded more like an insult than a compliment. He already had her tied up, being rude wasn’t necessary. “Wrong again. I don’t serve anyone. I’m in it for my own reasons.”

  “A delusion that makes you easily manipulated.”

  A new wave of anger flared. At herself this time, because Cho spoke the truth. She’d ignored signs right in front of her because she had wanted to believe in the man who’d been her salvation. Dallas and Craig put an end to that by revealing truths she couldn’t deny. But that didn’t mean she’d hand Kai over to the enemy.

  “Kai’s reasons are his own,” she declared. “And what I do is my choice, not his.”

  Cho shook his head as though he couldn’t comprehend the possibility. “In my world, honor demands I kill the man responsible for my father’s murder. Not work to give the executioner his freedom.”

  The words stung like a slap in the face. How did everyone know about that but her? Not only had she been naïve and gullible, she’d been blind as well. Rage amplified her pounding headache, and the pain spilled over to slash her heart.

  “You do not have the right to judge me.” Her voice sounded weak, a drugged shadow of her normal self. “Or to question my motives.”

  “And yet, I’m doing it anyway,” he mocked, throwing her words back at her.

  She took another long breath as a pinch-faced thirty-something man approached. He stared at her with a hatred that rolled off him in waves, bombarding her senses. When he drew closer, she saw why. A dark purple bruise marred his cheek, directly beneath his left eye. She recognized her handiwork and smiled.

  He shot her a malevolent glare, one that promised retribution, then leaned in to whisper something to his boss. She counted three in this band of thieves. Three of them, one of her. She’d faced worse odds.

  Cho didn’t seem to like what his lackey had to say. His jaw tensed and his fist clenched, but he stood up. “Stay with her,” he told his man and marched off toward a barely discernible doorway on a far wall.

  The guy didn’t take the chair. Instead, he loomed over her as she lay on the cot.

  “Cho say you dangerous, eh? Look kantoi to me now. Tasty chicken, how much you cost? I bang you soon.” He drew his fingers over the silver duct tape holding her wrists immobile, trailed a wiggly line up her arm only to curve ov
er her shoulder and trace her side down to her hip.

  She wasn’t sure of the words, but the mocking tone implied insult. She was past the point of caring. “Keep touching me, and I’ll kick your ass. Again.”

  His fingers dug into her flesh, squeezing with vicious intent. “Bitch you going to pay.”

  She jerked her hips away from his hand, the movement causing him to stumble. That’s when she spotted the old phone attached to his belt.

  “Ooohh.” She drew it out long and breathy. “I’m scared.”

  His pinched face drew even tighter, and red splotches bloomed on his cheeks. “Pukimak,” he snarled and grabbed a handful of her hair.

  It was a fool’s plan. She had precious little strength, but she did have nausea. It took nothing at all to pretend to hurl. She made a choking sound and pulled her legs up in a fetal position.

  He hesitated, the grip on her hair lessening. She took advantage, rolled her body off the low cot, and ended on her knees with her wrists still attached to the corner frame. She gave a theatrical moan and acted as though she were about to spew her guts all over his shoes. It wasn’t far from the truth. He tried to jump away, but one quick head butt against his leg and he tripped over himself, falling right into her hands.

  She made a loud retching sound and he scrambled on all fours to get away from her. She’d laugh if she weren’t about to make this little scene a reality.

  “Enough!” Ken Cho shouted.

  She was on her knees and lowered her head as an angry Cho marched closer. She didn’t bother to look up, just focused on breathing as he berated the vomit-adverse scaredy-cat in Japanese. She used the time to wedge the cell phone between her wrists.

  “Get up,” Cho snapped at her.

  “It’s all his fault,” she claimed as she struggled to get back on the cot. Cho pulled the chair back into place as she dropped onto the canvas, the outlay of effort causing her head to spin.

  “Your friend is a jerk,” she told him between several deep breaths. “He took liberties. Glad I blackened his eye.”

  Cho cracked a rare smile. “He has requested permission to return the favor. I may grant his wish, once you and I are done.”

  “You realize that sadistic attitude is why people don’t like you.” She intentionally wriggled her feet to draw his attention away from her hands. “I’m seriously going to do the world a favor and take you out.”

  His smile faded at her threat, and his eyes went cold and expressionless. In other words, business as usual for Cho. The only sign of agitation were his fingers working over the Mala beads. She had to admit, as intimidation went, that was a bit unnerving.

  “I do not doubt you are capable of it. You accomplish what you put your mind to,” he stated. “Your ingenuity is admirable.”

  She took it back. Him complimenting her was even more unnerving. In fact, it aggravated the headache she’d barely begun to get under control. Damn. How much of that drug was in her system? The idiot probably stabbed her with an overdose.

  “Flattery? I don’t know what to say.” She used a foot to scratch a fake itch on her ankle. “And here I was, remembering all the good times I had beating you to the prize. I’m terribly sorry. That must’ve hurt.”

  “Not as much as my taking Phantom Pearl will hurt Menita,” he said maliciously. “He’s spent much time and expense in his search. Understandable, given the reward, but it’s not a game he will win. The Pearl’s secret belongs to Shimshi.”

  “What secret is that?” There seemed to be a mountain of them lately.

  “Do not play dumb. It is beneath you.”

  Lately, dumb wasn’t hard to do. She’d spent far too much time ignoring what was right in front of her, and now a price had to be paid. “Kai kept a lot of things to himself. Including his reasons for wanting the Pearl.”

  He lifted a thin brow, a gesture that screamed skepticism. “You expect me to believe you’ve chased the Pearl from Australia to Singapore without knowing why?”

  Her head throbbed with a pulse of anger. Apparently, she had. “I don’t care what you believe. You aren’t getting the Pearl. It’s already on its way to America.”

  Cho smiled. “Nice try. It will be in my hands soon.”

  “That arrogance is going to be your downfall one day.” The effort to carry on this conversation was costing her. She inhaled long and slow, desperately trying to clear the cobwebs from her brain.

  “You are either a very foolish young woman,” he declared, “or a consummate liar. Which is it?”

  Based on the ease that she’d been deceived, she’d go with foolish. But the last few days had put an end to that. What kind of secret could the Pearl hold? She searched her memory for any hint Kai may have given, but came up with nothing. No hints had surfaced when she scanned the antiquity that night at the plane either. Its mystical beauty was incomparable, the rare jewels and intricate carvings a masterpiece. But the only odd thing about it had been the strange writing on the silver band of the dragon’s claw.

  Could that be it? A message from the monks? She frowned. Did the artifact have more significance for Yamashita beyond another treasure piece he guarded for Japan’s treasury?

  “Why are you after Phantom Pearl?” she asked him.

  Cho laughed. “That is a question only Yamashita can answer.”

  She hated riddles. And she was in no condition to figure one out right now. “I’d be happy to send you to hell so you can ask him.”

  His smile faded. “Your threats are useless, and time is running out. In the end, it will be you who brings me the treasure.”

  She shivered. Not from cold, no one in Singapore knew the meaning of that word. Not from fear, she was far too mad for that. It had to be the excess drug in her bloodstream. “Don’t know why you’d think that. I don’t even like you.”

  “Regrettable, but not important,” he replied calmly. “Dallas Landry likes you. A fact I plan to use to good advantage.”

  That worried her. She hoped the duct tape hid most of the phone. Did they have 911 in this country? Probably not. “You suffer from delusions. Landry is first and foremost a federal agent. Everything and everyone else is secondary.”

  Something she completely believed until recently, until her life had turned upside down.

  “I’ve talked to the man,” Cho scoffed. “His priority is you, nothing else.”

  “Maybe that should cause you some concern,” she said, ignoring the tiny flare of comfort his statement brought. “Pulling Dallas in deeper will only bring your criminal activity under the microscope of American authorities. I doubt the Yakuza will appreciate that.”

  “It does not concern us.” A few more beads slid through his fingers. “But you do. History shows if given the slightest opportunity, you will fight.”

  That was the thing about reputations. Sometimes they helped, sometimes they got in the way. “Don’t believe everything you hear. If you look at each circumstance, it’s been mostly luck. Reality is far different.”

  He gave her an obnoxious smile. “It seems your good luck has run out. This time the victory is ours.”

  It might look that way for now, but she’d find a way to turn it around. And when she did, this blowhard would be first on the list for some karmic justice. “I wouldn’t be celebrating yet. You don’t have the prize in your hands.”

  “Where is Menita?” Cho asked with a hard edge that indicated his patience had run out.

  This was more than Shimshi and Koyo competing for domination. If Kai’s obsession with Phantom Pearl was based on freedom, what would Cho gain to deny him? And freedom from what? Yakuza control?

  “I’m not Kai Menita’s keeper.” She shifted on the cot, stretching out her arms so she could twist enough to plant her feet flat on the canvas. “I’ve no idea where he’s at.”

  “You are lying. Answer my question.”

>   “Don’t be a cheater,” she declared. “Man up and go find him yourself.”

  Cho whipped to his feet, his face contorted in fury. She didn’t have a chance to prepare before he kicked out, landing a blow that sent her and the cot tumbling to the cold concrete floor.

  He did her a favor. The jarring chill helped clear the fog from her brain. When he stepped closer to her, she saw an opportunity and didn’t waste it. Her arms were out of commission, but her legs were free. One swift move was all it took to slam the heel of her foot into Cho’s knee. Every ounce of strength she had went into the punch, but it wasn’t near enough. Not fighting a debilitating dose of knock-out drug. But Cho’s knee joint did hyperextend, and he dropped to the floor with a grunt of pain.

  She kicked at his head and succeeded in a minor blow against his chin, then went for his chest. The maneuver didn’t work well and he easily countered her attack. In an embarrassingly few short moves, he had shoved the cot above her head, taking her arms with it, then slowly straddled her waist with a gleam of satisfaction. He leaned close to her face, his hand at her throat and pinning her to the floor.

  “Where is Menita?” he demanded.

  She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  His fingers tightened, and the pressure on her neck intensified her headache. Every pulse felt like a razor slice.

  “Is Sakura here, too?” he asked, slowly choking off her air.

  Her shoulders began to burn at the awkward pull of his weight. Her head pounded, and she wanted to throw up. None of it mattered. She refused to give him a damn thing. “Don’t…know,” she rasped.

  “Sakura’s pursuit of Phantom Pearl is relentless. He will come, and when he does, I will put an end to his reign and steal his prize.”

  Spots filled her vision. Her arms ached, and she struggled to yank them down, but the duct tape held them fast to the mangled cot above her head. Cho’s fingers squeezed and she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t focus. She thought of Dallas, the way his eyes sparkled when he laughed, the way his lips felt when he kissed her.