Satomi looked down and nodded.
“Sir, have you informed the police of the theft?”
“No, I have not, Mister Mitchell, and I have no plans to do so either. I want you to retrieve these papers and return them to me so I can do what I should have years ago and destroy them.”
“Sir, I sympathize with you; I honestly do, but I have two friends missing in the Gobi Desert who could be dead by now.”
“Where exactly in the Gobi Desert did your friends go missing?”
“According to the GPS tracking devices hidden on them, they are inside a factory belonging to—”
“Cypher Industries,” said Satomi.
“Yes, how did you know that?” said Mitchell with a puzzled look on his face.
“A couple of years back, Atsuko insisted that we help Cypher Industries obtain the necessary government connections and permits to set up a factory in Mongolia. I thought their plan to build a software factory in the Gobi Desert to be an unsound and ultimately doomed business venture. But Atsuko persisted, so I helped where I could.”
“We sort of thought the same thing about the factory as you did when we saw where our people were being held.”
“Mister Mitchell, Atsuko has only ever given her heart to one man in her life, and that was to Gabriel Cypher. A man she met while travelling Europe after she finished university. He is the third son of Octavius Cypher, patriarch of the largest arms manufacturer in Switzerland. I have only met him once and did not like what I saw in the man. He is nothing more than a dreamer, a con man in an expensive suit with a family trust behind him to pay for his extravagant lifestyle. Whatever my daughter saw in him was lost on me.”
“My God,” mumbled Mitchell, starting to see a connection, as tenuous as it was, to Satomi’s staged kidnapping and his missing friends.
“My God indeed, Mister Mitchell.”
“You don’t think they are working together, do you?”
Satomi gave a world-weary shrug of his shoulders. “I hope not. The weapons described on the stolen papers may be dated, but with today’s technology, I am afraid to imagine what could be created.”
Mitchell slowly stood and turned to look out over the black waters of the bay. His mind was racing. He dug out his phone, then turned to face Satomi. “Sir, please excuse me, I need to make a few calls.”
“I thought you might,” replied Satomi, filling both of their glasses with a tall measure of Scotch.
21
At the front entrance to the high-rise, a middle-aged security guard with a large potbelly sat behind his desk, bored out of his mind, while he watched the array of surveillance cameras situated around the outside of the building. Long retired from the police force, he had taken the job to get out of the house a couple of nights a week. A highly polished silver Rolls Royce limousine pulled up and stopped outside of the glass front doors. The side doors swung open and out stepped three beautiful young women in long flowing dresses, laughing loudly. They looked like they already had drunk far too much. The guard watched as they adjusted their form-fitting dresses before blowing kisses and waving their farewell to the limo driver. There was a tall, blonde-haired woman with her hair pulled back in a bun on the top of her head; in her hand was an opened bottle of expensive champagne. Standing on unsteady feet beside her was an athletic-looking girl with dark brown skin and a baldhead that the guard thought somehow suited her. Leading them to the front entrance was an Asian woman with short black hair and a gorgeous, well-proportioned face. She wore a traditional jade-green dress edged in gold and appeared to be the least inebriated of the women. He was used to expensive escorts coming and going from the building at all hours, so much so that he no longer paid much attention to them anymore. The fact that there were three of them made him chuckle. Someone must be having one hell of a party tonight.
After he buzzed the women inside, the guard politely asked the Asian girl where they were going.
With an alluring smile on her face, she told him that they were going to the seventh floor and that they would be back down in a few hours.
He shook his head, pointed them to the elevators and then watched as they made their way past him. The tall, blonde-haired woman tripped over her feet and was caught by the other two girls. Giggling, the blonde removed her high-heeled shoes, as did the other two women. The blonde winked at the guard and then took a deep swig of champagne. The exotic smell of expensive perfume hung in the air. Oh, to be young and rich… hell, just to be rich, thought the guard as the women entered the elevator.
The bald English bodyguard was growing restless. When their boss departed for England, he never told them that they would have to chaperone anyone around the city. He had hoped for a few nights off for a change. Instead, he found himself on duty. Still, he couldn’t complain too much as he was making ten times the salary he had been in the army.
Halfway down the hallway, the elevator chimed. A second later, three young women stumbled out into the hallway laughing and giggling merrily. The women waved and then noisily made their way down the hallway.
Perhaps tonight won’t be a total loss, thought the bald-headed bodyguard as he eyed the tall, blonde woman as she staggered down the hall.
“Excuse me, ladies, but would you mind telling me where you think you are going?” said the black-haired bodyguard in a firm but friendly tone of voice.
Stopping a few meters shy of the two men, the Asian girl smiled and said, “Is Mister Kincaid home?”
“Sorry, miss, he’s in England on holidays,” replied the black-haired bodyguard. The hair on the back of his neck went up. He had seen women come for business parties held in his employer’s home on several occasions over the past year. Something wasn’t right.
“We were told by our agency that he would be home tonight,” said the Asian girl, sounding more than a little disappointed.
“Perhaps they got the day wrong, sweetheart. I get off in a few hours if you would still like to party,” said the bald-headed man, leering at the women.
“I think you’re cute,” said the blonde-haired woman. Her English was heavy with a thick Russian accent. Handing her champagne bottle to the black woman, she took a step forward, only to trip over her feet and fall into the bald-headed bodyguard’s arms.
“Steady, love,” said the man as he held her in his arms.
The attack was swift and deadly.
With one man distracted, the Asian woman waited for the split-second that the black-haired man’s attention was not on her but on his foolish partner. As if out of thin air, she deftly pulled a slender knife out from under her dress and threw it straight into the man’s unprotected throat. With a sickening, wet thud, the blade sunk home. Instinctively, the doomed guard reached up for his throat.
The bald-headed guard saw the blood spray out from his partner’s throat. He let go of the Russian girl and tried to reach under his jacket for his concealed pistol.
With a snarl on her lips, the Russian launched her right hand straight onto the man’s throat, shattering his windpipe. Like his dying partner, the bodyguard reached up for his throat. The last thing he saw before he died was a carbon-bladed knife in the hand of the Russian. She smiled at him and then thrust the blade into the side of his head, killing him.
“Well done,” said the black woman as she looked down at the two dead bodies with an evil glint in her eye. “Less than five seconds. A new record. I am very proud of you both.”
Born into abject poverty, all three women came from broken homes. Before they were twelve years old, they found themselves on the streets, selling their bodies just to survive. Found by men loyal to Cypher, they were taken away from the nightmare they were living and given a new life. Educated at private schools in Europe and Asia, all of the women were given a choice when they completed their education: to go out into the world and begin life anew or to join a fraternity of women who would never again allow themselves to be exploited and abused. To date, each and every one of Cypher’s disciples chose to join his organization. Trained in the martial arts and weapons handling, the women became the means by which Cypher dealt with those who stood in his way. Their loyalty to their benefactor was absolute. They would kill and die willingly at his command. They adopted the name the Black Widows and relished in the deadly power they exerted over others.