Phantom Pearl

by Monica McCabe

  Riki closed her eyes in dread. “No,” she whispered. It would be a death sentence. For Kai, for Dallas, for her. Cho and his Shimshi warriors could not afford to let them live. “No,” she said louder. “Don’t come.” Dallas had to stay away. This wasn’t his battle.

  “Delivered to where?” Dallas asked.

  He wouldn’t listen. He would come and place himself in danger. That was who he was. Fierce, protective, and heroic to the point of reckless. She loved him. So much that she didn’t want him risking his life to save hers.

  “Keppel Shipyard.” Cho stared down at her with a malicious glint of anticipation. “You have until dawn to find us.”

  He disconnected the call and pulled the battery. Then he dropped the phone to the floor, and followed through with a boot heel to shatter what was left of the device.

  * * * *

  Dallas stared at Riki’s phone in dismay. Keppel Shipyard was on Jurong Island, twelve square miles of industrial piers, oil and gas refineries, fuel storage, and desalination plants. It was a rabbit warren of warehouses, dry docks, and cargo containers. A million places to hide. They could drive around for hours, looking but not finding.

  “Did you get anything?” he asked Adam.

  “Working on it.”

  After parking on Hill Street, they’d taken the stair entrance into Fort Canning Park. It was an oasis of green, a cultural and historical landmark filled with terraced platforms, decorative fencing, and lush, graceful landscaping. They’d stopped at a softly lit courtyard where Layla and Adam focused on a laptop they’d placed on a bistro table beneath the sprawling branches of some ancient tree. The professor worked the keyboard with speed and precision. He knew what he was doing better than anyone, but it wasn’t fast enough for Dallas.

  His fists clenched under a raw, edgy fear that wound him tighter than a jet engine. He needed action. He needed results. Every second ate at him and forged an unyielding determination to force Menita’s hand.

  Dallas paced the small patio terrace, barely noticing the gas lamps that illuminated their snug harbor. He couldn’t appreciate the paver stone walkways, giant ferns and flowering trees, the scattered garden benches. Not when the lighthouse sat roughly fifty yards away, and rendezvous was in less than ten minutes.

  “Time to walk,” Dallas said.

  “You two go. I’ve found something far too interesting to stop now.” The professor didn’t even look up when he said it. “I’ll be along shortly.”

  Dallas didn’t argue. He’d grabbed the Pearl and was already bounding up the next flight of stairs to reach the lighthouse path. Layla kept pace. As the paved trail meandered through the nature preserve, Layla double-checked her handgun, flipped off the safety, and tucked it into a holster strapped to her thigh.

  “What kind of person are we going up against?” she asked.

  “Menita has Yakuza ties,” he explained. “He cares for Riki, but not enough to put her first.”

  “Unlike you.” He started to protest, but she held up her hand. “Stop. It couldn’t be more obvious. Admit it.”

  He stopped short at a crossroad on the path in a heavily shadowed overhang of vine-covered arbor. “I can’t let anything happen to her.”

  “Because you love her.”

  “Because I love her.” There, he’d finally admitted what he’d known for some time. Except it helped nothing. All it accomplished was to add another layer of anxiety. What if he couldn’t get to her? What if Cho handed her over to whoever it was that pulled his strings? The very thought threatened to undermine his ability to think straight.

  Layla pointed. “It’s this way.”

  The path to Maritime Corner was a steady climb. Not steep, but the lighthouse did rest on the highest hill in the park. When they arrived, not a soul stirred. The park felt empty, something he needed to emulate. The dread that gripped him threatened to undermine his ability to think straight. He struggled to bury it and focus on the job at hand.

  They reached the light, a skeletal metal tower that resembled a giant buoy, painted white, and roughly eighty feet tall. Its beam cast a diffused glow over the empty courtyard gardens.

  Where in the hell was Menita?

  He and Layla stepped off the path to wait in the shadow of a hulking, old tree. Tension twisted in his gut, and Dallas checked his watch, then Riki’s phone for a possible text. Menita was three minutes late.

  “We’ll find her, Dallas.”

  Layla’s words offered no reassurance. Not with Riki’s life at stake. He was about to begin pacing again when two men rounded from a trail behind the light.

  “Showtime,” Layla whispered.

  “Stay here, stay vigilant,” Dallas said as he grabbed the Pearl. He took a deep breath and closed off everything but this single goal, then stepped onto the path to wait.

  The two men slowed their steps, instantly wary. Distant sounds of the city carried on the warm night air, but they were otherwise alone in this section of the park.

  “Kai Menita?” Dallas said calmly.

  The lean, well-dressed older man in the lead froze. His younger, more brutish companion, adopted a fight-ready stance. Dallas itched to accommodate, but instead he stood in the center of the pathway and waited.

  “Who are you?” Menita asked.

  No point hiding the truth. “Dallas Landry.”

  “Ah, the federal agent.” He waved a hand at his guard dog, a temporary gesture of stand down. “Where is Reika?”

  If Menita expected to see Riki, why would he bring a bodyguard? Did he always travel like that, or did he expect trouble?

  “Riki needs your help.”

  Menita stared at him without a flicker of emotion. “Why is this a concern for Homeland Security?”

  “It’s not,” he replied. “It’s a concern to me.”

  “I see.” He gave a pointed look toward the giant tree and back. “And what about your friend? Who does she serve?”

  “Irrelevant. Right now she’s here to help Riki.”

  Menita gave a nod of assent, but his eyes flicked to the custom case that Dallas held. “Is that Phantom Pearl?”

  Dallas struggled to cool the anger that heated his blood. “It is. But shouldn’t your question be what sort of danger is Riki in?”

  “You have seen her in action, Mr. Landry. Reika is highly trained. Capable of taking control in any situation.”

  Did he care so little for her safety? “Is that how you justify sending her on life-threatening assignments?”

  “She has full control and free to decline.”

  “But she won’t, and you know it. You’ve fed her desire for revenge, tailored it to satisfy a debt you owe. You are using her. And you know what? She knows and still holds a misguided loyalty to you. That makes her the better person.”

  Dallas wanted to say more. Wanted to rip Menita to shreds for deceiving Riki, for not caring enough to even inquire about her situation.

  “I’ve given the girl an excellent education, trained her in martial arts, taught her strategy and patience. She has never wanted for a thing.”

  The girl? Was he freaking kidding? What kind of cold-hearted bastard was he? “Only because you betrayed her and her father. You’ve given her all those things out of guilt.”

  Menita stiffened. “Do not presume to judge me. You have done your own damage with your single-minded pursuit of so-called justice.”

  Worst thing about that statement—he was right. And no matter what it took, Dallas intended to make up for it. He already had a plan. But first he had to get her back. “We’re wasting time. Ken Cho has given us until dawn to find them. We’ve got work to do.”

  “Reika will have escaped by then.”

  What was the matter with this guy? Believing in someone was one thing, but that didn’t give him the freedom to blindly disregard her safety.

&nbs
p; “She’s been drugged,” Dallas snapped. “She’s good, I’ll grant you that, but no one can withstand the effects of a knock-out overdose.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “From the girl herself. Even drugged, she managed a phone call. That’s when Cho broke in with a list of demands. He wants the Pearl.”

  Menita’s eyes shifted to the case again. “Do you intend to give it to him?”

  “No.” Dallas gave him a bold stare of dislike. “You will.”

  The older man glanced back at Dallas with a frown. “I do not understand.”

  “Ken Cho insists that you be the one to hand over the Pearl in exchange for Riki’s release.”

  Silence reigned over the garden, and Dallas calmly waited for the man’s response.

  “Cho and I share an animosity that spans many years,” Menita finally stated. “He will not allow that I walk away.”

  Dallas had no sympathy. “That’s what happens when you play with fire. Karma bites you in the ass.” Let that one sink in. “Time to pay the piper. Reika needs you.”

  No visual response showed on Menita’s face. He was cold and detached. What did it take to get a rise out of this guy? The thought of a grieving, young Riki under this stone-faced man’s influence made Dallas ill.

  “Is the Pearl in the case?” Menita finally asked.

  “Really? That’s your answer?”

  “I would like to see the artifact I’m risking my neck to deliver.”

  That wasn’t a refusal, but it wasn’t acceptance either. “We only have until dawn to find them. Keppel Shipyard is twelve square miles, an impossible maze. We’re running out of time.” Dallas hoped like hell the professor had narrowed down the search field.

  Menita folded his hands in front of him and gave Dallas a level stare. “Keppel is a large international company. It consists of many entities. Petrol, chemical, and specialized industrial shipping.”

  It wasn’t a surprise that he knew the basics. Homeland Security wasn’t the only one familiar with the name Keppel. It was well known and well regarded, with ties to major ports all over the world. But Dallas got the impression Menita’s knowledge came from a more personal source.

  “Do you know where they are holding Riki?”

  “Perhaps.” Menita pulled a pocket watch from his slacks and glanced at the lighted face before continuing. “Shimshi is well-funded, but their money must be laundered. They invest heavily in legitimate energy businesses. Keppel Infrastructure, for example. Environmental engineering and technology is an ever-expanding field.” He slid the timepiece back in his pocket. “They operate a busy pier on Jurong Island, do they not?”

  Dallas hit the comm in his ear. “Professor? Did you get that?”

  “On it now.”

  He turned to face the man who had allowed Riki to run in the dark. “You’ve obviously known about Shimshi for a while and yet you’ve never warned Riki. Why? Too afraid to tell her the truth?”

  The dig wasn’t even acknowledged.

  “I’ve given you the possible location,” Menita said. “In the spirit of give and take, it is now my turn. I want to see Phantom Pearl.”

  It went against the grain. Dallas wanted to refuse, but he needed this man’s cooperation. He held back the sharp words he wanted to say and moved over to a concrete bench that sat at the edge of the landscaping. A gas street lamp illuminated the custom travel case he carefully laid on the seat before unlatching all three fasteners. He lifted the lid.

  At first Menita didn’t move, just stared down at the tusk with something like awe. It infuriated Dallas that the first real emotion he’d seen from the man wasn’t for Riki, but for an inanimate object. Granted, it was a rare and stunning artifact with near mystical qualities. There was no denying that. But he’d hand over a thousand of them to save one Riki Maddox.

  Menita pulled a penlight from his pants’ pocket, clicked it on, and went in for a closer inspection of the sculpted silver dragon’s leg, the mother-of-pearl and sparkling inlaid jewels.

  “Hold this,” Menita demanded of Dallas, trying to hand him the flashlight. “Shine it on the Pearl while I take photos.”

  “How about saying please instead of firing off an order,” Dallas replied.

  The light snapped off. “I’ve spent over a decade searching for Phantom Pearl. It is finally in my grasp, and you expect me to hand it over to my enemy. Before that happens, I’m taking photos.” He handed him the flashlight again.

  “Please,” Dallas said.

  Menita heaved a sigh. “Please.”

  “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Dallas accepted the light and clicked it on, shining the beam on the Pearl.

  Using precise care, Menita lifted the mammoth tusk from the case and rested it on the concrete bench seat. He dropped to his knees in front of it and snapped multiple photos, paying close attention to the dragon’s claw and writing on the band. Through it all, the silent bodyguard hovered, looking ready to pounce at the slightest wrong move.

  Dallas gave the older man five minutes to document and study the extraordinary piece uninterrupted, but it was all the patience he had to spare. He was about to issue a sharp “That’s enough” when the professor rushed into the courtyard, the blue glow of his open laptop highlighting a cheesy grin on his face.

  “Think I found it!” he said excitedly.

  Menita looked up from his examination of the Pearl and stood, his shield instantly at his side. Layla shifted out from under the tree and moved closer to better protect the team, her gun a strong warning of caution.

  “There’s a large survey vessel that runs under a Japanese flag at Keppel Industries port,” Adam explained as he set his laptop on a waist-high moss-covered stone wall near the bench. “She’s there to unload seabed core samples into a laboratory warehouse.”

  He turned the screen to show Dallas a real-time satellite photo of Keppel’s dock.

  “How’d you get control of a sat feed?” Dallas asked him.

  “Don’t ask, and I won’t have to lie.” He tapped a few keys and the image zoomed in on a large red ship with a white navigation bridge spanning the breadth amidships. “Look at the name. See anything familiar?”

  Dallas leaned in and squinted at the screen, then saw it. The dragon, it’s head and shoulders inside the isosceles triangle, the tail curving around the ship’s name.

  He couldn’t believe they’d be that blatant. Who was it that said arrogance was the downfall of men and regimes? Didn’t matter. It was going to be the downfall of Ken Cho.

  Menita joined them at the wall. “The Sea Dragon is here for Phantom Pearl.”

  It was entirely possible. “The ship would be a slow but solid method of transport,” Dallas said. “Barely a worry over customs.”

  The professor tapped the keyboard again, and a new picture filled the screen. The entire dockyard was a congested maze of locks, buildings, cranes, and asphalt streets. He pointed to a string of large, blue metal buildings in the middle of a complex near the water’s edge. He enlarged the photo down to the one structure that stood slightly off from the others. “The warehouse.” He enlarged again. “This guy look familiar to you?”

  A man stood outside the door, holding a cell phone to his ear. It was grainy and distant, but from what Dallas had seen of Ken Cho, it could be him.

  “Professor, you are the best.”

  “You can thank me later,” Adam said as he closed the laptop. “Right now we need to head for the Mercedes. We have backup waiting.”

  Dallas turned to Menita. “You are coming with us. Right now.”

  The older man stiffened, but he appeared resigned.

  Dallas didn’t trust anything about him. Not for a minute. But Menita was going to hand the Pearl over to Cho even if Dallas had to handcuff him and drag him all the way to Jurong Island.

  He returned the P
earl to the case, latched it tight, and lifted it from the bench. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter 33

  Riki hated duct tape. Almost as much as she hated Ken Cho. She’d pulled herself close enough to her wrists to use her teeth against the tape and managed to loosen the edges, but the dirtbags used damn near an entire roll, and nothing short of a chain saw would cut through the mess. In the end, she was still stuck.

  At least the nausea had lightened. Not much else had. She was still attached to a busted cot, her throat still ached, and muscle weakness continued to plague her. It didn’t help that lying on the concrete floor had leeched the warmth from her body. She was freezing at the tropical equator.

  It was also the middle of the night, and though she’d been alone the last few hours, a babysitter arrived to keep watch over her. The graveyard shift goon wasn’t one she’d seen before. He’d probably been there all along, watching her nibble the duct tape like a hamster, and laughing.

  Anger at the absurdity of the situation threatened to ruin what little composure she’d managed to keep. She’d been overdosed, choked unconscious, kicked, and ridiculed. She’d had enough and burned to fight back. The only weapon available was verbal annoyance, so she used it. In spades. Talking hurt, but the bittersweet revenge was worth every twinge of pain.

  “I want some water.”

  “I need to pee.”

  “This floor is hard.”

  “I’m uncomfortable.”

  “What about a blanket? Can I have one of those?”

  The litany of personal requests wasn’t getting her anywhere. She switched tactics.

  “Don’t you hate it when your boss delegates the dirty work while they go grab a few hours of comfy sleep?”

  The guy looked at her with a blank stare that made her think he didn’t understand a word of English. He had a thick red scar that slashed across his cheek, like someone had knifed him from nose to jaw. That had to have hurt.

  “You don’t say much. Cho order you to keep your trap shut?”

  He ignored her and glanced down at his fingernails, unconcerned by her verbal attack. He might as well have laid down a challenge.