And look at that.
He grinned outwardly. She lay sleeping, face turned away, monitors beeping nicely. The room was cozy, perfect for the recovering plague victim. Webb knew this woman was an expensive escort, but had no clear idea how she fitted in with the SPEAR team’s international efforts. No doubt she was a procurer of information, but he didn’t like to hang presumptuous hats on a person until he’d properly stalked them and learned their every inner secret — dirty, precious, miserable, heart-rending, the more priceless the better.
He opened her personal drawer, rummaging through the items of clothing there. The top drawer was locked but there was the key — right next to her water glass. How quaint. He sipped from the glass, flicking his tongue around the entire rim. He pawed through her locked drawer, finding a purse and a cellphone, which he quickly cloned. Many people kept information on their cellphones that couldn’t be accessed elsewhere, even by him — house alarm codes, obscure passwords, pin codes, highly personal details… for instance, the way to contact her escort service. All the time Lauren Fox lay sleeping at his side, breathing softly.
He slipped in beside her, ever so careful, ever so quiet. The syringe was now exposed, but he really didn’t want to use it. It was so much better when they were fully conscious. The sheets covered them both. A little snore escaped her luscious lips. Her hair smelled of almonds. He savored it for one more moment before climbing out, ecstatic.
Even in his rapturous state Webb didn’t want to tempt fate too much. It was time to leave a memento and get back to the real world. Why do these moments have to end so quickly? For that was all they were — moments. Yes, he could enter their lives, their homes, prowl around whilst they were out, but the truly perfect encounter was right here and now. In his mind it had a name — the Live Prowl. It was real time, full risk, and gave him the most intense thrill.
Webb drew a stylized ‘P’ on Lauren’s wall, right beside her peacefully sleeping face. This was the first of many, and would be necessarily large, obvious and crass. The ones to follow in the days and months to come would be far more intimate and thus more shocking.
Job done, Webb exited the room, but before he did so he placed his lips so close to Lauren’s own he could almost taste them; her breath mingled with his own. It was enough.
For now.
More was to come and soon. Excited, he decided he wasn’t yet done for the night.
Tyler Webb left the hospital and told his driver to head for home.
“Theirs,” he said. “Not mine.”
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
Alicia waited impatiently for Hibiki to move aside. Since Dahl and the Japanese cop dragged her into an elevator last night their situation had been getting more and more complicated. It wasn’t bloody easy being a prisoner. To escape the Yakuza crowd they had quickly moved away, melting into the din and chaos of it all. Hibiki had pressed the button to ascend and their fate was set. The higher floors were work areas, deserted, with plenty of places to hide and wait. Hibiki soon remembered the information he’d gleaned regarding Mai’s showcase trial and how they were even going to beam it over the TV. He decided the reality was they would broadcast it over an internal secure network for those unable to attend. By early morning he had identified that network and by the time Mai’s trial began he was watching the live feed.
Alicia placed two fingers against his temple and pushed. “Shift over.”
Dahl guarded the entrance to their obscure little office on the fourth floor. It was still early morning but the trio were gambling that the entire building’s workforce had been given the day off — the Yakuza wouldn’t want anything interfering with the legendary Mai Kitano’s final day of judgement.
Alicia studied the video feed. The quality was low, the camera angle limited, but she could easily see there was no chance of a frontal assault.
“Has to be a diversion,” she said. “But what and when? Best if we knew what Drake was planning.” She licked her lips. “What would Captain Jack do?”
Hibiki, acquainted with her love of all things Depp, turned around. “Captain Jack Sparrow? Well, he wouldn’t go full frontal that’s for sure.”
Alicia started. “Shit, now there’s an image.”
“Diversion,” Dahl rumbled form the doorway. “Any idea how long Mai has?”
“All day.” Hibiki sat back, thinking. “But after that? The hope is that they make this last for two days and we can figure something for tonight.”
“Didn’t work too well for Chika,” Alicia pointed out. Mai’s sister lay crumpled on the stage, barely able to support her weight. Hibiki closed his eyes at Alicia’s words.
“Hey, man,” she saw his anguish, “don’t worry. We’ll get ‘em out of there.”
“Be quiet,” Dahl hissed, ducking low. The covert sound of a door opening reached Alicia’s ears and the soft padding of footfalls. Dahl sank even further and then slithered into the outer room, sliding among desks. Alicia left him to it. The Swede was one of those men she trusted to take care of business in the right and proper way.
On screen Hikaru was ranting. Mai stood before the gathering, covered on all sides by men with weapons, but still managing to appear menacing. Alicia saw the bandage strapped to her stomach — such a wound would diminish the Sprite’s abilities for several weeks to come. A scuffle brought her attention around and she turned just in time to see Dahl hauling a small figure through the door.
“Yogi.” She laughed. “Where the hell have you been? Delivering pizza?”
The Russian thief shrugged away from Dahl’s grip. “It’s Yorgi. I googled Yogi few days ago and it is not flattering. Please… it is Yorgi.”
“All right, Yogi. So what’s your story?”
Dahl put himself back on watch. Hibiki stared at the screen, eyes unreadable. Yorgi sighed, a sound of grudging tolerance, and took a seat by her side.
“Building was tough, walls ungiving. Took me longer than I thought to break in, da? Then I heard the anarchy. I hid, thinking to let it pass. Searched every floor…” he shrugged. “Here I am.”
“No cameras up there?”
“Not in office space or staircase, no.”
Alicia waved his attention toward the screen. “So, we’re fucked. Any ideas?”
Yorgi looked pleased to be included. He needn’t have been. Alicia regarded him as part of the team now, especially after his exploits in Paris. The thief was a thinker, a planner, and settled in to watch. He wouldn’t suggest anything until he was sure it would work.
The hours passed. The foursome drank the last of their water, ate the last of their supplies. Nobody had thought to plan for an extended stay. Lunchtime came and went. A perfunctory Yakuza patrol scoured their floor, but made no real effort to check every office. All entries into the building would be secured and had been since last night. The guards had no reason to assume anyone else was already inside.
Dahl eventually drifted back, casting eyes across the TV monitor. “Barring a foolish assault from Drake,” he said. “Which, of course we can’t rule out, it has to be tonight after they’re all resting. Let the trial play out today. We go in hard after midnight. We contact Drake then, and hopefully he’ll be ready with some kind of diversion. In addition we have Yorgi, not a fighter but we can use you to create a further distraction. Any questions?”
Alicia stood up to stretch. The problem was Dahl’s idea, flawed and as uninspiring as a day at boarding school, matched her own. They couldn’t use the comms to liaise with the world outside yet because the Yakuza would probably spot the signal and realize somebody else was inside. They couldn’t use the office phones for the same reason and, this being a planned military-style strike, nobody had packed a cellphone. Hibiki continued to watch Mai’s trial, identifying members of the audience with distaste and, on occasion, with astonishment.