“We need to find the communications room, liaise with Hibiki, and find out what the sneaky bastards are hiding.” Mai counted off the tasks on her slight but deadly fingers. “Failing that…” She eyed the warship. “We need to get the hell off this island.”
Drake grinned appreciatively. “I knew there was a reason I kept you around.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Now there were three murders, and no practical clues. The team reviewed the facts for perhaps the hundredth time, still finding no noticeable link. Michelle Baker was not an obvious target — her job as a bank teller, whilst it may attract the dumber kind of criminal hoping to be able to pressure a woman who potentially handled hundreds of thousands of dollars a day, was not a reason to hunt and kill her. Even a disgruntled customer surely wouldn’t go to those lengths, though Alicia tended to disagree. When everyone stared at her, she turned away. It was her duty to be the awkward one, wasn’t it?
Michelle Baker’s single outstanding feature was that she had recently returned from vacation. Every year she hit the east coast casinos and stayed in the same hotel.
Hayden brought her details up. “Alright. Atlantic City. Seems she preferred quiet nights and busy days. Her hotel is several miles away from the fun, on the outskirts of Atlantic City. A secluded and expensive little place called The Desert Palms.” Hayden paused. “Way out of her price range.”
Dahl cracked open a bottle of water. “The fellow back at the bank did mention that she saved up for a big blowout. So she treated herself one week a year — good for her.”
Hayden pursed her lips. “Maybe. We have three victims. Three complete strangers. Three murderers. Three complete strangers. The only link is that two of them have sealed juvey records. Karin — did you have chance to check on Leanne Prowse yet?”
“You’re not gonna like it.” Karin chewed on a lock of hair. “Leanne Prowse was normal in every way. No records of any kind. No file. Nada.”
Kinimaka was pacing up and down the office, part of his recovery routine. “So what does a senator, an insurance salesman and a bank clerk have in common?”
Alicia clucked at him. “Sounds like the start to a bad joke.”
The Hawaiian stared at her. “What are you doing anyway? You’re nose hasn’t been out of that cellphone since you got back here.”
Alicia raised an eyebrow. “Careful, Mano. Just ’cos we shared a last night together doesn’t mean I won’t spank your arse in front of your new girlfriend.”
Kinimaka cringed. Alicia grinned to see Hayden and Ben suddenly become mightily interested in the screens before them.
“We spent a night drinking.” Kinimaka stressed.
“But I’ll tell ya anyway, ’cos I’m nice like that. Been texting me some bikers.”
Komodo looked over at her. “The ones you met in Luxembourg? I’ve heard of that biker gang, you know. Their kind of notoriety doesn’t come by attending Grand Prix’s and coffee bars. They’re hardcore.”
“So am I,” Alicia said sweetly. “But thanks for the friggin’ concern, Trevor.”
Ben looked up then, his eyes serious. “An email from Gates just came in. Says they still haven’t worked anything loose with the North Koreans. Any action at this point would be a sign of aggression and not viewed lightly in certain parts of the world.”
“So we just leave ’em there?” Alicia was suddenly in the conversation. “We should send a small covert unit. Me.”
“The Koreans have already detected one of our ‘secret missions.’” Hayden told her. “Best not to risk another. And Drake’s last communication did say they were ok.”
Alicia jabbed at her cell with such ferocity that Hayden could easily see her breaking one of the buttons off.
Karin sat back in her chair, narrowing her eyes as her brain worked overtime. “There is one other thing that links all the victims.” She mused. “Though it’s barely worth mentioning. Probably nothing at all.”
“What is it?” Three mouths asked at once.
“Travel.” Karin made a noncommittal face. “Senator Turner. The salesman and Michelle Baker. They were all planning on or had recently been travelling.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Shaun Kingston stared at the seated figure before him and wondered how the hell anyone so obtuse, so gross, and so self-serving could ever rise to the rank of general.
But then, he thought. We are dealing with the Goddamn North Koreans here.
“My good friend,” he said aloud, “whisky?”
“As if you need ask, Mr. Kingston.”
“Your English.” Kingston always buttered them up first. “Is excellent, General.”
“Of course it is. I attended an English boarding school. And no doubt better than your Korean.”
Kingston allowed an ingratiating nod rather than ask about North Korean boarding schools. The final payoff was worth a little self-effacement at this stage.
Kingston poured the drink. “I assume you…dispersed…the delicacies we sent you for Christmas?”
“Of course.”
“Do you remember the name of the village?” Kingston couldn’t resist.
The general’s face didn’t even crack, or wobble, as the case would have been. “I forget.”
Kingston passed over the expensive looking tumbler, noting the attentiveness of the general’s bodyguards when he leaned toward him. “Do you foresee any barriers?”
The general sipped his drink and wobbled his jowls. “There are new developments, Mr. Kingston, as you are aware. At this stage, Korea does not believe the island has been discovered. We believe the flight was random, off course maybe, or speculative.”
“And why do you believe that? Did China tell you?”
“China is our ally,” the general spat. “Not our leader. Our struggle can be achieved with or without their aid.” A moment of silence followed, during which the big man clearly took hold of himself. “The Americans are making no real noise of this disappeared plane. It does not seem high on their priorities. We believe it is of no consequence to them.”
“Good.” The last thing Kingston wanted was the Stars and Stripes putting an end to the brokering of the biggest deal of his life. His eyes flicked for a moment to his PC, open before him and displaying his company’s striking logo: Kingston Firearms International, the world-renowned and acceptable face of his business. But not enough.
Never enough.
“I don’t mind saying — I thought it a risky deal you employed with the sleeper system,” he said. “But one that has paid off. So far.”
The general went still. “Korea can never know,” he muttered. “The risk is beyond your reckoning. It is the brainchild of decades, the procurement chain extends across the globe, and we use it for ourselves.” The man shuddered now. “Pray we don’t get found out.”
“The Russians are making noises,” Kingston told him. “About some enormous archaeological find. It’s big enough to divert their attentions from making money, which says a lot.”
“The Russians are always making noise.” The general dismissed Kingston’s comment. “It’s how they sleep at night. Our inspiration in Korea comes through the confidence that our certain victory is assured. We always do what we say we will do.”
Kingston ignored the speech. It sounded too much like Korean propaganda and he had personal issues to organize.
“So the spring cleaning is going well?”
“Three down, two to go,” the general said. “No issues.”
“There is one issue,” Kingston reminded him.
“The secret team?” The general raised eyebrows like the thin wisps of a snake’s tail. “Your men are dealing with that, yes? My own men might get too…enthusiastic.”