She dug deeper, going for scorn and derision. “That scar on your face makes you look evil. Must be a bitch finding a girlfriend. Have you ever considered plastic surgery?”
It was a cheap shot, but still considered fair in a street fight. Or if you’d been chained to a busted cot for the better part of ten hours.
“Shut up.”
She forced back a smile. She’d finally found his Achilles Heel.
“Seriously, I can recommend a good doctor. You’ll have to travel to the States, though. You’ve got a passport, right?”
“Shut up.”
Her throat ached at the effort to talk, but she kept it up. “What’s wrong? Hate your job? I bet it sucks working for the Yakuza. Probably pay crap for wages. Do you get health insurance?”
“If it were up to me,” he said, “I’d dump your skinny ass in the harbor.”
“Well, that’s not very nice. Is a rotten attitude a job requirement? Because I’ve yet to see anyone happy working for Ken Cho. Makes me think he’s a tyrant.”
“That’s because I am a tyrant.”
She hadn’t heard him come through the door. Not that it mattered. She’d called him worse.
“Do you have a knife on you, Benji?” Cho asked.
That didn’t sound good. Neither did the snick of a switchblade.
“You want me to teach her how to keep her mouth shut?” Benji looked much too hopeful for Riki’s peace of mind.
“Not yet. She and I must talk. I want you to cut her binding.”
She wasn’t sure she’d heard that correctly. He wanted her freed? Not that she’d argue, but it didn’t make sense. What was he up to?
Benji had the audacity to look disappointed, but he did as told. She lay on her side, her wrists at eye level, which meant she had an up close and personal view of the stainless-steel blade as he worked. It took several unsettling slices before the thick layers of tape gave way, something the creep no doubt enjoyed.
She shot him a glare of annoyance and immediately began to peel away the sticky tape. The adhesive stung and pulled her skin, but freedom was worth the pain. She threw the hateful crap away from her and rolled flat on her back, stretching out her abused shoulders.
“Better?” Cho asked.
“Getting there. But if you want to talk, I need to pee first. Like seriously.”
“Benji will be happy to escort you.”
He looked anything but, which cheered her immensely, but the high didn’t last long. It crashed under the weight of effort it took to climb to her feet. She had to use the hard, wooden chair to accomplish it.
Cho made no offer to assist, just watched her struggle, a gleam of satisfaction on his miserable face. Not that she’d accept help from the slime anyway.
She managed to get upright, but had to grip the chair back for several fortifying breaths and fight to control the tremor in her legs. It took longer than she wanted to feel steady enough to follow Scarface to the bathroom door.
Another guy joined the potty party, the same one whose phone she had stolen and Cho had smashed. Overwhelming animosity oozed from his every pore.
“In there,” Benji pointed.
It wasn’t much more than a squalid, windowless closet. No toilet seat and only four squares of paper left on the roll, but she’d dealt with worse and wouldn’t complain. She was grateful Cho allowed the small concession.
The sink wasn’t much cleaner, but the water ran clear and cool. She splashed her face several times, rinsed the dryness from her mouth, even risked drinking a handful to soothe the burn in her throat. For a few rejuvenating seconds, she stood at the sink and let the cool wetness wash over her raw and reddened wrists. Then briefly wondered how much she’d have to pay for this moment of relief. Nothing with Cho came free.
The interrogation was about to begin. That she knew for certain. The harsh reality of her situation said the odds of survival were shrinking by the minute, and she’d begun to realize that the discipline and control she prided herself on had been an illusion. Today she needed help.
Dallas would come. He always had, even when she didn’t want him to. His persistence had aggravated her, challenged and exhilarated her, and she secretly had looked forward to their clashes. But that was another time and place. She didn’t want him to risk his safety for her, but she couldn’t help latching on to that lifeline. What she wouldn’t give to hear his voice, to feel his arms around her in comfort.
A small, clouded mirror hung on the wall beside an empty towel dispenser, and she chanced a peek at her reflection. Her face was pale, her eyes shadowed, and dirt smudged the side of her face that had lain on the concrete. She looked horrible, but had expected worse. She rubbed at the dirt and used her fingers to sift through the tangled mess of her hair, but quickly gave up. Energy reserves were running on empty, and she needed every last ounce for the coming battle. She took a long, deep breath, centered her focus, then left the room.
Despite looking like a patient in a psych ward, Riki felt a tiny bit more human. Nowhere near enough to take on Benji and the hater, but she managed to walk back to where Cho waited by the chair without feeling like her legs would collapse out from under her. That was solid progress.
Cho gestured for her to sit. She’d rather stand, let her blood flow, and continue to build stability, but sitting was better than taped to a cot, so she obliged.
“Tell me about Menita’s connection to Sakura.”
No small talk. Just right to the heart of it. Suited her. She had some questions of her own. “If you’re counting on me for answers, I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed. I know Kai fenced the pieces, but he kept the name to himself.”
Skepticism oozed from him. “I do not believe you.”
She didn’t blame him. She couldn’t fathom why she’d willingly been so blind either. “I learned the name Sakura a few days ago from Craig Lawson, the man you killed at the plane. He worked with Kai back in the day of the Consortium. Too bad your man shot him. It ruined our one chance to learn anything.”
Cho stared at her without remorse.
“Hard pill to swallow, isn’t it?” she said irrationally. “I hope you choke on it.”
He pulled a second chair over to sit in front of her and gave a thin smile. “That bullet was meant for you.”
If he was trying to intimidate her, it wouldn’t work. That bullet still had her name on it, but she’d gotten over fear about three hours ago. She was currently running on anger with a twist of resignation.
“You and I will have a day of reckoning over that,” she promised him. “Then afterward, I plan on getting an explanation from Kai. He owes me the truth.”
“He is in Singapore,” Cho said. “If this plays out like I expect, you will be able to ask him shortly.”
Dallas had her phone and passcode. There was little doubt that Kai made contact, and Dallas would capitalize on that. But expecting them to combine forces and charge to the rescue might be pushing it.
“Shimshi and Koyo are both Yakuza. Why do they hate each other?”
The first sign of something besides anger, or glares of impending death, came over Cho’s features. She’d surprised him with the boldness of her question.
“Koyo is old and tired. Time for a new leader.”
Right. She figured as much. “The brash young cub is challenging the old lion. I’d be careful if I were you. Experience generally wins over bravado.”
“We are an elite force.” His expression darkened. “Formed for a purpose and highly trained.”
“Forgive me if I’m not impressed. Special forces or not, I’ve won the race against you more than once.”
“Did you ever stop to think that as Menita’s protégé, you were being tested?” he asked menacingly. “The net is closing around you both. Phantom Pearl is the prize.”
The implications of his stateme
nt unnerved her. Why hadn’t Kai warned her of their animosity? Did he think she’d back off if she learned of the danger? The answer came harsh and sudden. The Pearl meant more to him than her. A truth that felt like a knife wound.
“What about Homeland Security?” She tossed a glance around the warehouse, marking the exits and obstacles in between. “You do realize they are involved now, too.”
Scarface and Phone Guy manned strategic positions far enough away to give their boss privacy, but close enough to react should she try anything foolish. Like escape. She wondered how many were in position outside. Dallas would have a gauntlet to run, and she prayed the professor and Layla were still in the game. She wasn’t able to help herself, much less a strike team.
“Your American government does not concern me. They cannot stop Shimshi.” Cho leaned forward, his eyes intense and unforgiving. “For too many years Koyo has proven they are incapable of retrieving Japan’s lost treasures. Their time is over, but they foolishly believe Phantom Pearl will bring redemption.”
“It is a priceless artifact,” she argued. “Maybe it would.”
“Shimshi will be the one to bring Yamashita’s secret home to the Imperial Ministry.”
She hated being in a one-sided conversation. She hated it even more when the party in the know was an arrogant jerk who liked to play at superiority. “Yamashita was nothing but a terrorist. His specialty was brutality and the theft of Southeast Asia’s wealth. He could bully and steal with the best of them, but I doubt he was smart enough to leave a secret.”
Ken Cho smiled at her insult. “You do not have the vision to see possibility. That’s why you work for Koyo.”
Sudden rage flooded strength into her limbs, and she jumped up, fists clenched at her sides. “Yakuza are nothing but a filthy gang of thieves and murderers. Do not ever lump me into a category with your kind.”
Scarface lunged forward, but Cho stopped him with a raised hand. “You say this, and yet for years your acquisitions funnel to Sakura. I cannot believe you were unaware of Menita’s affiliation. No one is that blind.”
Her jaw tightened. She hadn’t known until a few days ago, and fury at Kai finally caught up with her. She’d been such a naïve fool. One for trusting him, and two, for continuing to give him the benefit of doubt even after she’d learned the truth. How could he do this to her? How could someone be so cold as to send a father to his death, take in the daughter, and have the nerve to look her in the eye every single day, knowing he was the cause of her pain? Who did that?
The harsh reality of Kai’s betrayal washed over her with an overwhelming queasiness that buckled her knees, and she dropped back into the chair. “I didn’t know,” she insisted. “I would never willingly work for Sakura. I hate everything he stands for.” She could barely get the words past a suffocating sense of grief.
“What do you want? A sympathy card? That changes nothing,” Cho said. “Shimshi will win this battle.”
A pounding began in her temples and she massaged against the ache. The Consortium, her father’s death, and Yamashita’s treasure. All of it swirled in her mind, a jumble of puzzle pieces that didn’t fit. She understood a hierarchy existed in any organization—legal or criminal. Concentric rings of power shifted as players struggled for dominance. Koyo had held top slot for a great many years. But the power players of her father’s era would be changing. Challengers were sniffing around, looking for a weak spot.
“Who controls Shimshi?” Something told her the answer was important.
“You are trying my patience.”
It was hard to reason with madness, but she had to give it a try. “Have you ever considered why your organization was formed? It appears someone wants something bad enough to pit two factions against each other. You can call yourselves special forces, but the way I see it, you were created to do someone’s dirty work. Who is it?”
For the space of several heartbeats, Cho didn’t move, didn’t blink, just stared at her with a frown creasing his brow. Then he stood. “I don’t know what game you are playing, but look out those windows.” He pointed up. “Dawn is approaching, and your time is running out.”
She wanted to rattle this guy’s cage. “Koyo and the Imperial Guard have been bedmates for decades. You think because you find one rare artifact, they will kick Koyo to the curb and replace them with a brazen upstart?”
If looks could kill, she’d be stone-cold dead right now.
“I’m going to enjoy finishing what I started back in Australia. The second your usefulness is over”—he mimicked shooting a gun—“you’ll breathe your last.”
He shoved his chair away with his foot and headed for the door.
“Zip-tie her to the chair, Benji.” He glanced back at her. “And make it tight.”
Chapter 34
Dallas adjusted a pair of binoculars and peered at the building. He and Menita were in the front seat of the Mercedes, parked across the street and kitty-corner from the laboratory warehouse they saw from the sat feed. He scanned the grounds, the rooftop, every square inch within range of vision. Windows were high and inaccessible, with the exception of one that looked into an office. There were three visible pedestrian doors, and according to the professor, two oversize delivery bays in the back. Something was definitely going on inside. Lights were concentrated at the far left, and at least three men came and went through a corner door.
“I’ve got two in the backyard,” the professor said through the comm. “Hahn?”
Adam had gathered two Singaporean Ministry of Defense scientist friends, semi-retired operatives who were itching for a chance to work a real assignment again. Didn’t matter that it was off the record and unsanctioned. It was an honest to God, real live fight against known Yakuza operatives. Throw in a damsel in distress, and they were in.
“Had one lurking on a nearby rooftop.” Hahn’s voice crackled slightly due to electronic interference. “He’s not a problem anymore.”
Dallas hoped to hell that meant the unfortunate sap was incapacitated and not dead. But he wasn’t going to ask.
“Report in Taji,” the professor said.
“Looks like an armed surveillance crew between warehouse and ship,” Taji said. “At least three. Whoever or whatever is coming this way will be watched like a hawk.”
Phantom Pearl was rare and priceless, but no one knew it would be here except his team and Ken Cho’s. Riki could be a threat even when drugged, but this level of security was like a presidential visit in the works.
“Heavy activity on deck of the Sea Dragon,” Layla added.
Dallas lowered the lens and turned to Menita. “Security is solid overkill for a transfer. Any idea why?”
The Pearl’s case sat on Menita’s lap, lid open, as the older man studied the carved tusk. “I believe we are about to meet the leader of Shimshi.” He clicked off his penlight and stared out the windshield. “Before that happens, there is something you should know.”
That didn’t sound good. “What do you mean?”
“Phantom Pearl was originally created in the fifteenth century, but she was modified by General Yamashita in the late nineteen-forties. A travesty in terms of historical preservation, but a desperate act for a military general accused of war crimes.”
An unsettling feeling came over Dallas. Whatever the man was about say, it wasn’t going to be in their favor.
“After the general’s raid of Southeast Asia,” Menita continued, “he ordered the best of their plunder separated out and concealed beneath layers of secrecy. Then he eliminated those who carried out the act and shared the location with no one else. As fate would have it, the brutal general went on trial for war crimes and was sentenced to execution. Before his death, he was allowed to confess to a priest of his choosing to atone for his sins. What he told that man has led to decades of deception, machinations, and death.” Menita traced a finger over the writi
ng on the dragon’s claw band. “This inscription is a vital clue.”
Dallas stared at Menita in shock. “Are you telling me the Pearl leads to a mother lode of Yamashita’s treasure?”
The older man gently closed the lid on the Pearl. “There’s a map carved into a stone wall at an old church in Luzon. The writing is a key to help read it.”
It took all of two seconds for Dallas to put the pieces together. “That’s why Riki’s father died, isn’t it?”
Menita remained silent, but Dallas already knew the answer. “Who else knows of the Pearl’s secret?”
“Sakura. And I assume whoever has arrived on that ship.”
Son of a bitch! “Riki is in there, at the mercy of men who won’t hesitate to kill her to get what they want. You put her there. What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Reika is no innocent. She has reasons of her own to be involved.” His voice sounded unjustifiably defensive.
“Reasons you caused,” Dallas snapped. “She lost her father because of you. She risks her life because of you. And she’s here today because her sense of honor is far superior to yours.”
Menita didn’t argue. He looked down at the case in his lap and shook his head. “On that terrible night, I was to die as well. Instead, I made a devil’s pact with Sakura. He allowed me to live as long as I found and delivered pieces of the stolen treasure.”
Dallas made a choking sound, fury burning his throat.
“Condemn me if you must, but I wanted to live long enough to exact revenge. I hated Sakura for what he forced me to do. Hated myself for not having the courage to die that day.” Menita leaned his head back against the leather seat rest. “Guilt pushed me to Reika. She was a brilliant child, and it didn’t take long to discover her aptitude for art and history. When it became clear where her path would lead, I gave her tools to defend herself.”
“And Phantom Pearl?” Dallas asked through clenched teeth.
“My exit strategy. The one piece Sakura wanted badly enough to grant my freedom should I procure it. But that agreement has expired. He grows tired of waiting.”
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