“Swell,” mumbled Donaldson. “Which task is it — Mongolia, or the security detail?”
“Security, that’s why I came to see you,” replied Mitchell with a smile. He could sympathize with Donaldson, but only to a point. Fahimah was someone whom Mitchell wanted on his team. He had tried once before to have her reassigned, but O’Reilly felt that she was still too young and inexperienced to be a field agent and had firmly but politely turned down his request. Mitchell, not to be deterred, intended to revisit the request after their next assignment was finished.
“What can you tell me about Atsuko and Taro Satomi?” said Mitchell. “Aside from being Japanese and probably worth several billion dollars, I know almost nothing about these people.”
Fahimah put down her sandwich and moved over behind her computer. After a few minutes of humming a tune to herself, she switched back on the wall-mounted screen. A map of Japan came up.
“Satomi Electronics is the third largest electronics company in all of Japan with offices throughout the country. They have several large factories in Tokyo, Kyoto, and Sapporo,” explained Fahimah as she pointed to the cities on the screen with her laser pointer. Changing pictures, an image of Asia filled the screen. “Satomi Electronics also has factories in China, Mongolia, and Russia, and will be opening a new plant in South Korea late next year.”
“If they’re so big,” said Mitchell, “how come I’ve never heard of them?”
“Most of their products are aimed at the Asian market,” explained Fahimah. “They applied for a permit to build in the U.S. in the eighties but were turned down, so they looked elsewhere in the world and moved in just as China, Russia, and Mongolia were beginning to embrace the free-market economy. The cheap labor and lax environmental standards that pervade Asia have combined to make Satomi billions.”
“Charming business practices. What can you tell me about Atsuko and Taro Satomi themselves?” asked Mitchell, his curiosity piqued.
The image changed once more. This time, a distinguished, older Japanese man in a charcoal-gray suit with short, white hair cutting the ribbon on his newest plant in China flashed up on the screen.
Fahimah looked down at her notes for a second. “Taro Satomi was born June 10, 1943, in Tokyo, Japan. His father was a successful businessman who made a fortune selling armaments to the government before, and most notably during, the war. When the city was firebombed in 1945, both of his parents were killed. Orphaned, Taro was raised by his uncle until he was sixteen. Leaving home, he went to university in England where he eventually received a doctorate in engineering,” explained Fahimah as she thumbed through her notes. A moment later, she continued. “Taro Satomi returned to Japan and then took over the reins of his late father’s business, changing it from weapons of war to electronics.”
A new picture emerged. This time it was of a stunningly beautiful young Japanese woman wearing a white business suit, speaking to a group of investors at their head offices in Tokyo. Fahimah waited until Mitchell was finished studying the screen. “Married very late in life, Taro Satomi’s wife died during childbirth. He subsequently raised his only child, Atsuko, by himself. She naturally followed in her father’s footsteps and obtained a PhD when she was only twenty years old, and is now the Head Vice-President of Satomi Electronics. At twenty-nine years of age, she is one of the most influential up-and-coming young people in Japan.”
“I’m impressed; she sounds as driven as her father to excel,” said Mitchell as he turned to look over at Fahimah and Donaldson. “According to the file I have on Atsuko, she was a target for kidnapping on several occasions in the past. Can you shed any light on what happened, especially on the most recent attempt?”
“Isn’t there anything in your briefing file?” said Donaldson, looking a bit flustered.
“None that I could I see,” replied Mitchell, flipping back through the few pages he had with him.
“Sorry about that, we’ve been so swamped with requests for information from Lancaster’s team that we must have missed it,” said Donaldson, feeling bad for giving Mitchell an incomplete intelligence file folder.
“It’s all right,” said Mitchell with a smile. “Bill’s in the field and is the organization’s main effort right now, so he should get your full support.”
A few seconds later, the image of Atsuko with a blanket wrapped around her arms appeared on the screen. Mitchell leaned forward studying the picture. A tired and unkempt Atsuko Satomi looked like she was being led away from a cabin somewhere in the mountains of Japan by a couple of female police officers.
“The only information that I could find was contained in an Interpol report from several months ago,” said Donaldson. “Miss Satomi was kidnapped and held for ransom by radical environmentalists from the Japanese wing of the Earth Freedom Fighters.”
“They sound more like a really bad eighties revival punk band than a group of terrorists,” quipped Mitchell.
“Perhaps a poor name for a group of diehard radicals, but they have cells spread throughout the world and are quite active. In fact, in the last decade, they were mainly known for freeing lab animals, protesting the building of nuclear power plants in Europe, or trying to block the logging industry in California and British Columbia. However, recently some members have publically advocated more violent action in order to get their message heard. Oddly, though, when Miss Satomi was taken, they went public in Europe denying any part in the kidnapping. The blame was squarely placed on a radical splinter group still using their name,” explained Donaldson.
“What happened?”
“They somehow managed to grab Miss Satomi when she was on her way to the airport and held her for one hundred million dollars ransom. They moved her around Japan for nearly three weeks, always keeping one-step ahead of the police until an anonymous tip to the police told them where to find her. Aside from being disoriented and slightly malnourished, Atsuko Satomi came out of the ordeal unhurt,” said Donaldson.
“You would have thought that if she had been targeted in the past that there would have been a security detail on her night and day.”
“If I were her father, you can bet your bottom dollar that she would have had a dozen large goons around her all the time, but according to the information that I have, she shuns security as an unneeded measure,” explained Donaldson as he bit into his tuna sandwich.
“Well, it would appear that her father has decided that security is something Miss Satomi cannot live without while she is here in the States.”
“Is there anything else I can give you?” asked Donaldson.
“Could you please print out all of that information for Nate and me? Also, Fahimah will need the rest of the day off so she can dig deeper into the files that you may have on the Satomis and, of course, she will need to go and pack for D.C.”
“Why do I get a sinking feeling that I should be paying more attention to this file?” said Donaldson, shaking his head.
6
Sam stared wide-eyed out the window of their dust-covered Land Rover as it passed underneath the massive statue of a pair of prehistoric Sauropods, their long, gray necks forming an arch over the road. To Sam, it looked like a couple of dinosaurs stealing a kiss. Grabbing her cell phone, she took a quick photo of the dinosaurs as they drove past.