kiDNApped (A Tara Shores Thriller) (7 page)

“Okay,” Dave began. Then, “Hey, wait a minute…Who are you two, anyway? I mean, I know you told me your name, and you’re a diver,” Dave said, tipping his head at Kristen’s card still on the table, “but why are you so interested in all this?” Then he looked to Tara. “Are you investigating them?” He nodded at Kristen and Lance.

Tara shook her head. She could detect the uncertainty in Dave’s voice. After the near death experience as a result of a poorly chosen job, he wasn’t one hundred percent trusting of anyone. “As I said, I’ve been investigating the case of their missing father. I came here to help them in any way I could before the case is closed in two days when he is declared legally dead—presumed lost at sea along with his entire crew.”

Kristen took a deep breath. She dug the folded pages of the magazine article she’d read on the plane from her purse and smoothed them out on the table. “This is our Dad.”

Dave’s eyes bugged out when he saw the article’s front page. “Holy crap, you’re Dr. William Archer’s kids?”

The siblings both nodded.

Dave continued. “I’m a marine biologist, myself,” he said, looking at Kristen. He explained how he had just earned his bachelor’s degree from the University of Hawaii. Kristen congratulated him and then he turned his attention back to the article on the table.

“I remember that,” Dave said. It was all over the news here for like a week. They never found him?”

Tara, Kristen and Lance all shook their heads.

“And you think
this
has something to do with what Johnson was into?” Dave asked, his tone incredulous, looking around the restaurant to see if anyone had overheard.

“Probably not,” Tara said.

“But since there’s nothing else to go on,” Kristen said, “and because I’ve always wanted to dive Hawaii, I think we should try and bring up whatever it was that you found this morning. Would you want to come along, too?” This latter question she addressed to Tara.

“If you do make a trip, I’d like to come along,” the special agent said.
Keep tabs on my two cases at once.

Dave grinned and swallowed some more beer. “I dunno,” he said. “After today, I could use a break from the water, and now I need to start looking for a new job, too.”

“What if I paid you a thousand dollars cash, plus all expenses, to take me diving?” Kristen asked.

 
… TTCA
12
TTTC...

June 14,
8:15 PM, Waikiki

Lance cringed at the annoying Japanese pop music playing as he entered the sushi bar on Kalakaua Avenue—the main beachfront street in Waikiki. He ordered a large Asahi beer and sat down to wait for his associates who had requested the meeting. Lance hoped to take care of business quickly and still have time for a solo night on the town. His sister planned to turn in early. He was irritated that Kristen had set up a morning scuba dive with that college kid, which meant that he wouldn’t be able to sleep in. He was more than irritated that the FBI agent would be accompanying them.

Lance was watching various pieces of raw seafood pass by on a rotating conveyor when two men of Asian descent, both wearing casual business outfits, took seats on either side of him at the bar. One of them spoke in rapid Japanese to the sushi chef who, after raising an eyebrow and asking a few questions, nodded and set to work preparing a dish that was not on the conveyor. A waitress brought the men waters. They politely refused the offer of alcohol.

“Good evening, my American friend,” the man on Lance’s right said, without looking his way. Lance merely nodded. “We have taken the liberty of ordering a special dish for you, of which we shall all partake. Are you hungry?”

“Actually—” Lance started. He was not a fan of sushi and wished to expedite this meeting.

“No matter,” the man said, dismissing his reply. “It is a small morsel, far from a full meal, but quite satisfying all the same.”

Lance nodded, acquiescing. He looked around the establishment, which had been chosen by his companions. It bustled with patrons, mostly tourists, and none of them seemed to pay any attention to the American sitting at the bar between the two Asian businessmen. The loud music further helped to screen their conversation.
haole in
shorts, T-shirt and sandals

“So,” the man on Lance’s right said, “the day after tomorrow is the day of the declaration.” Again, Lance merely nodded in reply, keeping his interaction with the men as subtle as possible, which he knew they would also appreciate. He took a pull off the Asahi and set it back down. In two days his father, the gene hunter, would be declared legally dead.

“And after that it should only be a couple of weeks or so before your share of the estate is disbursed.”

Lance again nodded.
Then Dad will be free to go, Kristen will give him back her share of the money, as will the other few beneficiaries, but I’ll be gone with mine. All I need forever. Thanks, Dad.

“Your sister’s visit here concerns us,” the man on his left, this time, said. Lance did not know the real names of either man. “You were unable to persuade her not to come?”

Lance shook his head. “Believe me, I tried. But it doesn’t matter. She won’t find anything. Even I don’t know where he is right now, remember?” Lance finished.

The man on his left nodded. “True,” he said.

“How is he?” Lance asked, referencing his father.

“He has been cooperative thus far,” the man on Lance’s right replied. Then he lowered his voice a bit more before adding, “He thinks our motivation for holding him is to learn his technology for the global warming bugs. To help pass the time until he is declared legally dead so that you can pay us from your share of the inheritance he leaves you, we pretend that that is all we are interested in.”

“As if you have to pretend to be interested in GREENBACK,” Lance said dryly.

Both men chuckled. The one on Lance’s right continued. “At first he refused to tell us anything, insisting that someone would come for him, but after two weeks went by, he began to go into some detail on his procedures in the lab we built for him on board.”

“You built him a lab?” Lance asked, surprised.

“He needs to have something to do,” the man on his left said, shrugging.

Lance felt a twinge of concern and tried to drown it with the last of his Asahi. He hadn’t thought about exactly what his father would be doing while held captive by these men he had invited to abduct him—to hold him long enough to be considered lost at sea and declared legally dead. But he certainly hadn’t anticipated him being put to work in a laboratory.
Must be a big boat...a ship,
Lance thought as an aside.

But he knew what the presence of a lab meant.
They want more than just the two million I promised them which represents half of my share of the inheritance...they want GREENBACK, to patent it for themselves. That’s worth up to a billion according to industry reports. Damn it, I should have known that corporate thieves would want more than just a couple million to share among themselves...

Then a server appeared, taking Lance’s empty bottle and asking him if he’d like another. He nodded and waited for the waitress to leave before addressing the man on his left. “How is he, though? I mean, he’s being treated well, as I insisted as a condition of our agreement, right?” Lance wanted his father’s money, but wished him no physical harm.

“He is having an excellent time,” the man on Lance’s left said. Then Right added, “Three gourmet meals a day, prepared by our shipboard chef, and his own private suite.”
Which is kept locked whenever he’s in there alone
, Lance knew. “Just as long as he’s not mistreated,” Lance said. “That was part of our agreement.”

“We will keep our part of the bargain,” Right said. Then he indicated the approaching sushi chef. “It seems our food is ready.”

The chef set a platter in front of them which was covered in clear pieces of sashimi, or thin slices of raw fish. There was also a pile of white material, as well as the traditional ginger and wasabi. The chef gave a formal bow and retreated behind the counter.

“Do you know this dish?” Left asked Lance. Lance shook his head.

“This is f
ugu
,” Right chimed in. “A kind of pufferfish.”

“If not prepared correctly,” Left took over, “it is deadly poisonous.”

“Great,” Lance said, lifting his beer.

“The toxic liver has been skillfully removed, Right said, “resulting in a unique and flavorful delicacy.”

“What’s that?” Lance asked, pointing at the pile of white stuff.

“That is the skin,” Right said. “Also delicious.”

Left said, “We have ordered you this rare and expensive dish to illustrate a point.” He held his chopsticks poised over a piece of fish. His counterpart finished for him.

“You have chosen to involve yourself in something very dangerous,” Right said. “If you do everything correctly, you will be rewarded. But should you make a mistake...”

The man on Lance’s left popped the fish into his mouth before completing his colleague’s sentence. “Dead.”

Then he added, “That was very good. Try it.”

Both men eyed Lance expectantly. Forgoing the use of chopsticks, he picked up one of the slices of fish with his fingers and ate it.

10:02 PM

Lance walked up to an ATM. The men at the sushi bar had promised him his “earnest money,” as they called the funds they agreed to pay him in return for him giving up the precise location of his father’s vessel, his security measures, and other logistical details. As he pressed a button to check his account balance, Lance thought,
If my payment went through, I should be able to have some real fun tonight
...

He stiffened as he registered the numbers on the screen. There it was: $25,043, 25K of which he didn't have before; his associates’ gesture of good faith.

They kept their end of the bargain!
Then he recalled one of them adding, “We expect you to use these funds if necessary to do whatever it takes to ensure that the operation is a success. We will reimburse you for whatever you spend toward this purpose.”

Lance withdrew $600, the maximum amount of cash the machine would dispense at one time. Then he strolled along crowded Kuhio Avenue, nervous and excited at the same time that he had gone through with his plan, and that it seemed to be working. He passed vendor stands overflowing with cheap tiki statues and shell
leis
imported from the Philippines, giving the torch-lined street an urban south seas feel.

The idea of female companionship sounded good to him, but he knew he didn’t have time to get to know any of the tourist women he’d heard were so willing.

But he had another idea.

While prostitution was illegal in Hawaii, there were nonetheless a good number of ladies of the night—most from the mainland—who could be found walking the streets of Waikiki on any given night. In a tropical town where hot evenings made skimpy attire even more acceptable, it was sometimes hard to tell the hookers apart from girls out for a night on the town far from home, Lance thought as he wove his way through a pack of Japanese tourists.

But the heels were a dead giveaway. Only hookers wore six-inch heels while standing around in one place.

Such as the one smiling at him now.

Eye to eye with Lance’s six foot frame, the sultry, twenty-something Asian woman asked him if he was “looking for a date.” He was, he said, and she took his hand and began to walk with him arm in arm down the street. Taken aback by her directness, Lance looked around to see if anyone had noticed that he’d just been picked up by a prostitute. No one seemed to.

“We go my room,” she declared in heavily accented English. “Hotel this way, yes?”

“Uh, sure,” Lance said, casting a sidelong glance at the tight figure under the slinky dress. “But uh, how much—”

“Will be at least one hundred no matter what. Depend what you want. We talk in room, okay? Let’s go.”

They walked briskly to her hotel, where she stopped them at a convenience store located just off the lobby.

“You want get drinks, condoms, anything?” she asked.

Lance said he did and told her he’d be right back while he went into the store. He came back with some pre-mixed
mai tai
’s and the rubbers, looking around sheepishly as if someone might recognize him.

The professional and her client entered the elevator. She pressed the button for the fifth floor. A family of five from Kansas rode up with them, and Lance could see the parents eyeing his escort dubiously.

Then they were walking down the hall and the stranger was sliding a keycard. The door opened and they went inside, the working girl flipping the sign on the door handle to DO NOT DISTURB before closing it behind them.

The room was not unlike the one he shared with his sister, except that there was only one king size bed instead of two twins. Curtains were drawn across the
lanai
door, which was the only window.

Lance wasted no time in cracking open the drinks.

His “date” took one of the beverages from him and started massaging his neck while cooing softly in his ear.

“What you like to do, mister?”

Lance dropped a hand to her ass and squeezed.

“You have cash, yeah?” she asked.

“Oh yeah,” Lance said. He was about to ask her if she’d be available every night this week when the closet door burst open and two large Samoan-looking men sprung out. The girl jumped onto the bed as the larger of the two men punched Lance in the face with a solid right hook.

Lance was shocked, stunned, confused, wiping blood from his nose as he struggled to get up from the floor.

The Samoan who’d hit him now brandished a stiletto. Lance looked up at the Polynesian looking man. He sported long dark hair, a few tribal tattoos and heavy gold chains around his neck. Lance knew he would not be able to fight the man—he was outweighed by probably a hundred pounds, and the brute was ready to strike again.

And if the one assailant wasn’t enough, the second man stood by, watching for the moment, but ready to join in if necessary.