Hikaru’s face came into view, poised above her. “Doctor Nori here is fixing you up so that we can put you on trial.”
“On trial?” Mai repeated, surprised. “I imagined your bosses would prefer something more low key.”
“Not at all.” Hikaru smiled grimly. “Unfortunately for you and for us, anybody who’s anybody and most of the world’s authorities know how to treat Yakuza.” He held up his left little finger, showing her that the tip was missing. “My transgression cost me. But now — now I have truly atoned.”
“Not yet you haven’t.” Mai stared up at the bare bulb.
“You are not in Washington anymore.” Hikaru grinned. “And you’re wounded. In truth, nobody knows where you are. Do not expect a rescue.”
Mai said nothing. Hikaru was right in at least one respect. Until her wound improved she was going nowhere.
“Why a trial? Even for me it seems a little showy.”
Hikaru shrugged. “It was not my decision. I would have cut you up and fed you to the pigeons. But a showcase trial… and death… is required.”
Now Mai understood. “And you had me thinking I may stand a chance.”
“Make your peace, Mai Kitano. Very soon, the world will see what the Yakuza do to their enemies.”
CHAPTER THREE
Matt Drake wanted to break down the door, but hotel policy and the presence of its day manager convinced him otherwise. Still, they lost a precious ten minutes summoning him and allowing him to unlock the door. Drake didn’t have a clue what to expect. Last night, their team celebration had gone off without a hitch but still Mai had left early, taking Grace to a new place. This morning, Drake had woken with a thick head, a body still bruised from recent exploits over in Niagara Falls and a nasty feeling.
Phone ringing; early morning; Grace sounding panicked. None of it helped create much of a rosy feeling. Add to that the fact that caffeine had not yet passed his lips, and the man from Yorkshire was presenting a mood that some might call spiky.
Dahl was with him, the big Swede seemingly possessed of some psychic ability to sense danger. The moment Drake had shoved his nose out of the hotel room door, Dahl had happened to glance out.
“All good?”
“Whoa!” Drake had been caught off guard, still half asleep. “I don’t know.”
“Drink too much?”
“Nope. The pint and a half I sank appears to have left me able to stand.”
“So…”
Drake had motioned the Swede outside and explained that he’d received a panicked call from Grace. Mai wasn’t answering her door or her cell. Some people would have given her several more hours, perhaps allowing Mai to sleep in, but not Grace. Her life currently revolved around panic and stress and nightmares. In truth, Drake was glad she had contacted him so quickly. The way Mai was acting lately it wouldn’t surprise him if she’d left town.
That was — if she had taken Grace with her. He sighed in silence. The reality was he hadn’t expected any of this — even when she moved out to a nearby hotel, taking Grace with her.
It’s not you, she said. And this time he believed her. What the hell was she supposed to do if she couldn’t mentally get past something? Different people reacted in different ways but Mai usually confronted problems head on. Drake guessed that if it hadn’t been for the severity of the Pandora attacks, Mai would be in Tokyo already.
The hotel manager slid an access card into the door’s rectangular slot and pushed the thick, silver handle. Drake pulled him away.
“Best stand back,” he said. “Mai’s liable to take a stranger’s head off.”
He didn’t add, if she’s in there.
Once, inside, the appearance of the room didn’t immediately start any alarm bells ringing. Only one thing was immediately evident — Mai wasn’t in it. Nothing was damaged. The night stand still stood with its dusty alarm clock and much-used TV remote. The work desk looked well ordered, hotel and local brochures lying in a neat little pile. The curtains were closed. Drake borrowed the key card from the manager and inserted it into a little slot, throwing more light on the scene. The bed clothes were rumpled, but that was about it.
He moved further into the room, Dahl at his back. Grace hovered in the doorway.
“What’s happening? I can’t see.”
“She’s not here, love.” Drake walked around the bed, wondering if perhaps she’d done something even more out of character and headed out to a gym or for an early morning swim. But where were her bags?
Then he saw it.
Drake stopped abruptly. Dahl peered over his shoulder.
“Oh dear, is that—”
Drake squatted. The bedroom carpet was soaked with a dark red substance, and where it ended against the side of the bed someone had drawn three characters. Drake took his phone out to snap a picture.
“Japanese characters?” Dahl asked.
“I think so.”
Drake struggled to quell the pounding in his heart. No evidence certainly, but instinct told him that this was Mai’s blood. “Try her cellphone,” he said with a quiet desperation. “Just once more.”
Dahl was about to and then Grace said, “I just did. Nothing. Straight to a stupid answer phone.”
Drake backed away. Dahl re-checked the bathroom. Grace was suddenly at his side.
“Oh, no, please no. Is that—”
Drake fought to keep calm. Grace had been going through a worse time than any of them recently with the slow return of her most hated memories. Under Mai’s guidance she’d stood up to them with an unfaltering positivity, focusing solely on what lay ahead. Dreams had been achieved and plans made, a hundred things to look forward to. Grace fought the past hard, and though Drake never knew how she coped in the dark watches of the night, he saw her during the day and encouraged everything the plucky youngster said and did. Some people would never recover from a past such as hers, but Grace wasn’t one of them.
Especially with the help of someone who had already been through it. With Mai’s help.
“We don’t know,” he said. He heard Dahl in the bathroom, already contacting Hayden. With a great effort he swallowed his own feelings and stared at the picture he’d taken. “Do you know what these characters mean?”
Grace peered over. “No.”
Dahl called through. “Hayden says that Karin will have some kind of character recognition software at the office. Send her the photo.”
Drake nodded. He sent the picture and then checked the rest of the room, finding exactly what he expected — nothing. Every minute that passed made his blood boil hotter, his jaw set harder.
After everything we’ve done we’re still hot targets. It occurred to him then that if they all stayed in this game there was only one way it was going to end. Don’t think that way! But what other outcome could there be?
Dahl stopped him near the door. “You remember Whitehall?”
Drake blinked in confusion for a moment, then remembered their most recent adventure. “The terrorist cells that attacked us on the street? What about them?”
“Some guy called Ramses, some kind of terrorist royalty, sent them, yeah? Still had a bee in his bonnet about how we obliterated that arms bazaar.” The Swede smiled in grim recognition. “If only we’d known to drop a bomb on the whole bunch of evil bastards.”
“You think Ramses took Mai? Unlikely, pal. I mean for starters — wouldn’t they just blow up the building? Hope for the best?”
“They’re not all Neanderthals.”
“I know, I know.” Drake held up his hands, unable to process clearly as Mai’s potential fate swirled about his head. “Let’s just get back to the office and call everyone in. This is as serious as it gets for us. Personal. Roust the entire team. Now.”