“Do you think we’ll make it?” asked Satomi.
“Not a problem. We’ll have you safe and sound with the Hong Kong police in no time,” replied Mitchell, praying that they’d make it out of the garage alive.
The doors to the elevator slid open.
Mitchell raised his pistol. They were alone. Mitchell and Satomi stepped out of the elevator into the brightly lit garage filled from wall to wall with expensive cars and SUVs.
“Come on,” said Mitchell as he helped Satomi to the far end of the garage where their ride was supposed to be parked.
With a pained moan, Satomi let go of Mitchell and reached down for his ankle.
Looking down, Mitchell swore. Satomi hadn’t sprained his ankle; from the way it was swelling up like a grapefruit, he had most likely broken it.
“You’ll have to leave me and go get help,” said Satomi, through clenched teeth.
“That’s not going to happen.” With that, Mitchell bent down and heaved Satomi over his shoulder. The man was quite light. It was far easier to carry him than a wounded soldier in full body armor.
A shot rang out.
Beside them, the windshield on a red Jaguar sports car exploded inward.
Mitchell pivoted on his heels and saw the blonde-haired woman standing there with a pistol in her hand. He brought up his revolver and fired off a shot. Without bothering to see if he had hit her, Mitchell turned and began to run as fast as he could through the parked cars, weaving from side to side hoping to throw off the aim of their attackers.
The lifeless body of the blonde-haired woman lay face down on the cold, concrete floor of the garage; a deep-red river of blood flowed away from the gaping hole in her chest. Rage swept through the black woman as she looked down at her dead friend. Someone was going to pay with their life for her death. Turning her head, with hate in her eyes, she looked for the man who had foiled all of their carefully laid plans. Satomi was supposed to have been an easy kill. No one had told her that there would be someone else there who was as deadly as he was resourceful. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a man with Satomi on his back dodge around a black Land Rover and then move out of sight.
Turning to the Asian girl, the black woman said, “Make your way to the exit and wait in ambush for the two men when they try to leave.” With a quick nod, the girl sprinted away.
“Time to die,” said the black woman as she began to slink her way toward the men. Like a panther on the prowl, she moved carefully, almost unseen, through the sea of parked cars. Her mind was focused on vengeance.
“There it is,” said Mitchell as the silver Mercedes SUV came into sight like a welcoming port during a storm.
Mitchell couldn’t wait to get inside the vehicle and get out of the parking lot. Pressing the automatic door opener, Mitchell ran over to the passenger side of the vehicle and quickly buckled Satomi into his seat before sliding over the hood and hurriedly jumping into his seat. He pressed the start button. The SUV roared to life. Quickly throwing the vehicle into reverse, Mitchell jammed his foot down on the accelerator. Speeding backward a couple of meters, Mitchell hit the brake pedal. The sound of the tires loudly squealing as they dug into the concrete garage floor filled the air. He turned the wheel hard over, changed gears and jammed his foot back on the accelerator with no intention of letting his foot off until they were free of their pursuers.
As they sped straight for the closed garage door, Mitchell prayed that there was a motion sensor nearby to raise the door or he was going to have to drive his car straight through the doors, relying on the SUV’s mass and velocity to smash their way to freedom.
In the blink of an eye, the passenger-side window exploded inward, showering Satomi with glass. The bullet travelled straight through the car, barely missing Mitchell’s neck before blowing out his window as well.
“Get down,” yelled Mitchell to Satomi, who was already hunched over in his seat. Gripping the steering wheel tight in his hands, he kept his foot pressed down on the accelerator. No matter what, he had no intention of stopping.
The garage door slowly sprang to life and began to rise. It wasn’t moving fast enough. Mitchell knew that the top of their SUV was going to hit the bottom of the door. Bracing himself for the impact, Mitchell was stunned to see the Asian woman from upstairs step out from behind a parked car and stand in front of the exit, her pistol aimed at the onrushing SUV.
It all seemed to happen in the blink of an eye. Mitchell ducked down behind the dash just as the woman fired her pistol, the bullet striking the Mercedes’ grill. Like an enraged rhinoceros charging at a hunter, the SUV struck the woman head-on, sending her shattered body flying up and overtop of the speeding vehicle. The next thing Mitchell’s mind registered was the sound of the roof of their SUV loudly scraping up against the bottom of the garage door.
A second later, Mitchell popped up his head and saw that they were driving out of the garage. The instant he burst out onto the street, Mitchell turned the driver’s wheel hard over to the right and sped off into the night praying that there wasn’t anyone else waiting for them on the street.
With tears welling in her cold, dark eyes, the black assassin bent down and delicately touched the face of her dead friend. Her eyes were closed. She looked quite peaceful, almost as if she were simply sleeping. Letting out a primal scream of rage from deep down inside her, the assassin gently laid the dead woman’s head back down on the floor and then stood up. In the distance, she could hear the sound of sirens growing closer by the second. She had no doubt that there were surveillance cameras in the garage, and that she had been seen. Placing her pistol away under her dress, she jogged up the ramp leading up onto the street. She looked about and decided to take advantage of the many high-rises lining the street. She knew that she would have to lay low for a few hours before she could arrange for pickup. Taking a deep breath to calm the anger burning inside her, the assassin turned and began to run barefoot down the sidewalk. Quickly fading into the shadows, she disappeared from sight. With a bitter look on her face, she couldn’t wait until she had the opportunity to once more cross paths with the man who had killed her friends.
22
Ryan Mitchell sat in the dark on the end of his hotel bed feeling absolutely drained. In his hand was a half-drunk bottle of whiskey. He couldn’t remember the last time he had drunk so much hard liquor by himself. In the back of his mind, he felt that he needed to numb himself from all that had happened. He placed the bottle down on the nightstand, let out a deep sigh and then fell back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. His body may have been tired, but his mind was a whirl of questions. What’s going on? Why does someone want to kill Mister Satomi, and how does this all connect to his daughter? And what about his missing friends?
The phone in his room rang, startling Mitchell. He picked up the phone. It was Inspector Li from the Hong Kong police telling him that Taro Satomi was resting comfortably in a safe house normally used to hide witnesses during high-profile trials. After thanking the inspector, Mitchell hung up the phone. He knew his mind wasn’t going to let him rest anytime soon. Mitchell wearily stripped down and headed for the shower.
After leaving the parking garage, the first cars that Mitchell thankfully ran into were from the Hong Kong Police Force racing up the winding road. He waved the cars down and told them what had happened. An ambulance soon arrived and took Mister Satomi under police protection to the nearest hospital to get his shattered ankle looked after. Mitchell was driven downtown and then spent the next few hours telling and re-telling his story to Inspector Li, who spoke English with a slight British accent. After an eternity spent with the inspector, Mitchell signed his statement and was then allowed to go. Taken by the police to the Harbor Hotel Hong Kong overlooking Kowloon Bay, Mitchell had hoped for a more discreet hotel to grab a few hours’ sleep in, but since the police were paying, he didn’t object very loudly.