PRIMAL Fury (The PRIMAL Series) (24 page)

CHAPTER 45

PRIMAL HQ, LASCAR ISLAND

“Sneaky fuckers,” said Vance.

“You’re telling me they’ve got someone in the anti-people-smuggling department of Interpol?” said Chua. “That’s not just bold, it’s brilliant.”

They were sitting around Flash Gordon’s workstation, four wide-screen monitors mounted in a row, giving them a massive amount of screen real estate in which to conduct their work.

Vance put on his reading glasses and squinted at the screen. “So who are they? What are the links from Interpol back to mainland Japan?”

“Their COMSEC is extremely tight,” Flash explained. “They change handsets regularly and keep it brief. Those phones Aleks and Kurtz picked up broke out their network in Europe but if they are talking with Japan it must be on another clean handset or by some other means.”

“And what about this Masateru guy who seemed to be running things at the castle?”

“Still no leads.” Flash shook his head. “Even the trail from Bishop’s computer hack didn’t give us anything specific. It led to some commercial servers in Japan, but no addresses or identities. Their online profile is nonexistent.” A spiderweb of lines connected icons representing phones, computers, people, and locations on the screen. Flash manipulated the model with his mouse and it spun like an LSD-fueled laser show. “In Europe, everything we’ve got comes back to this guy.” A central icon flashed red within the web.

“And that’s the Interpol guy?” Vance asked.

“Yep. Capitaine Rémi Marcen. One of their lead agents in the people-smuggling department. Works out of the headquarters in Lyon.”

The man’s photo appeared onscreen, a long, thin face with piercing brown eyes.

“Capitaine, eh?” Vance said. “Arrogant-looking motherfucker.”

“He has to be their main man on the sourcing end,” Chua added. “He’s got access to all the gangs. All he has to do is bring in some low-end crim, put him through the wringer, and then release him. Before you know it, he’s talking to the animals that steal girls out of their beds.”

“And making a tidy bit of cash on the side,” said Vance.

“He’s the go-to guy, that’s for sure,” said Flash. “Call chains from him reach out all over Europe.” He pointed to the different networks sprawling out over a map on one of the other screens.

“So this Capitaine is the linchpin. He needs to go,” stated Vance. “Work up a target pack and let’s get it up to Tariq.” PRIMAL’s benefactor was always consulted when they were considering kidnapping or assassinating a high-profile individual. He acted as a sounding board for Chua and Vance, helping separate the executive decisions from the guys deep in the weeds.

“Use Kurtz and Aleks?” Chua asked.

“Yeah. If we didn’t give this to them, Kurtz would mutiny, and he’d take that crazy Russian with him.”

“It’s either them or Mirza’s team in the Middle East. They’re due out in the next few hours but we could redirect them from their next tasking.”

“No, let’s use Tweedledum and Tweedledee. They’ve got a stake in this game, and after the last couple of days they need to chalk up a win. That reminds me, did we get a fix on that aircraft tail number they sent in?”

Flash pressed a few keys and a map displayed on one of the screens. “Yeah, we’re tracking her across China at the moment.” A small airplane icon appeared on the map tracking east. “Set to touch down in Kobe in about six hours.”

“Good, let’s get Aleks and Kurtz briefed on the Interpol job and a target pack up to Tariq.” Vance turned to face Chua. “Have you briefed Saneh and Bishop on Karla and her ETA?”

“I’ve sent them the intel,” Chua said. “They should be checking in soon. Their hookup with the Yamaguchis certainly helped out. They’ve got vehicles and additional surveillance at their disposal.”

“Baiko set that up, yeah?”

“That’s correct. Having someone inside the police is going to be critical to this mission.”

“Then that hunch of yours has turned out pretty well.”

“It’s a bit early but it would seem so.”

“Getting more like Bishop every week.” Vance grinned.

Chua frowned. “Unlikely. Unless I start chasing random women and getting myself ambushed every five minutes.”

CHAPTER 46

YAMAGUCHI-GUMI SAFE HOUSE, KOBE

“Not a bad pad,” said Bishop as he came up from the basement of the unused nightclub.

“Perfect hideout,” agreed Saneh from the bar, where she sat with her laptop.

Kenta had taken them to the safe house, located on the outskirts of a commercial sector in Kobe. Nestled in a back alley, it was discreet, allowing them to come and go without drawing attention. The building itself was tall and narrow. Four stories with a drive-in basement, perfect for hiding their vehicles.

Bishop rummaged through a box behind the bar. “Gotta be something decent to eat in here,” he said as he discarded packets of dried squid and seaweed. Giving up, he turned to Saneh. “You know Kenta’s going to be a while…” Their Yakuza liaison had taken the car to get supplies. Bishop slid in next to Saneh and put his arm around her waist.

“You’ve got a one-track mind.” Saneh looked back at her computer screen anxiously. “When was the last time you checked the messages from the Bunker?”

“This morning. Why?”

“This just came through. Aleks and Kurtz lost Karla.”

Bishop’s arm dropped back to his side. “Lost her? What the hell, how did—”

“Shut up and listen.” Saneh scanned the rest of the message. “Your Yakuza pal Masateru lured them away from the hospital into an ambush. Then he grabbed Karla from the hospital and got himself onto a private jet out of Kiev.”

“Are our boys OK?” Bishop peered over her shoulder.

“No injuries, just pride; they’ve been retasked to pick up a loose end in France.”

“Kurtz has got to be going out of his mind.”

“The job’s been passed to us now. We’ve got less than three hours to set up surveillance on Kobe Airport before they land.”

The rattle of the roller door in the basement filled the building.

Saneh shut the laptop and headed upstairs to the building’s offices. “You help Kenta. I’ll talk to Chua and get confirmatory orders.”

Bishop watched her as she climbed the open staircase, his gaze fixed on the way her cargo pants fitted around her backside.

“That’s not helping,” Saneh commented without looking back at him.

“OK, I’m on it.”

He met the stocky Yakuza at the top of the stairs from the basement and relieved him of one of his packages. “Hey, mate, you’ve got to watch that shoulder.”

Kenta grunted dismissively and placed his package on the bar. Bishop did the same.

“I hope your rooms are acceptable,” said Kenta.

They were staying in the upstairs offices, converted into bedrooms with tatami floor mats.

“The place is perfect—somewhere to park the car and plenty of room,” Bishop replied.

“The
oyabun
has delayed its destruction so we can use it. Once we are finished it will become apartments.”

“Another move toward legitimacy,” Bishop joked. “Pass on our thanks to the
oyabun
. He’s a very generous man.”

“
Toran to seba mazu ataeyo
.”

“What does that mean?”

“If you want, then first you must help. We need you to destroy our enemies. So of course the Yamaguchi will help you to do so.”

“We’ll need your help now,” said Bishop. “Saneh’s upstairs talking to our people. They’ve tracked Mori-Kai operatives and a kidnapped girl from Eastern Europe. They’re flying into Kobe as we speak.”

“They are bringing in girls?” Kenta’s impassive features took on a concerned look.

“We think it’s just one. A very pretty young girl from Croatia. They’re flying in by private jet.”

“If they are using their own plane they will land at Kobe Airport.”

“That’s the intel we have as well.”

“Touchdown in three hours,” Saneh said from the top of the stairs, her laptop tucked under her arm.

“That is not a lot of time,” said Kenta.

“No it’s not,” agreed Bishop.

“You will need some of the things I have got you.” Kenta picked up one of the packages and gave it to Saneh. “This should fit you.”

She tore open the brown-paper package and pulled out a full-length black leather biker suit and a pair of boots. “My god, they’re amazing.” She grinned.

Kenta shrugged. “It’s too dangerous to ride around Kobe without leathers.”

“Now it’s going to be every red-blooded male who’s in danger of crashing,” Bishop said. “I hope you don’t expect me to wear that getup.”

“No. It wouldn’t fit you,” Kenta replied, deadpan.

Saneh put down her leathers and opened her laptop on the bar. “First things first. Let’s talk about the targets.” On the screen appeared an image of Karla’s face. “This is the only photo we have. We think she’ll be escorted by a high-ranking Mori-Kai named Masateru.”

“He looks like a Japanese Elvis,” Bishop added.

“All we know is he’s involved in coordinating their kidnap operations in Europe. This next slide is where they’re going to land.” The screen changed to a map of the Kobe Airport complex.

“Kenta, you know the lay of the land. Where’s the best spot to pick these two up?”

“It is easy. Here and here.” Kenta pointed to either end of the bridge that provided the only access to the island airport. “I have also brought radios so we will be able to spread out.”

“Good thinking, mate,” said Bishop as Kenta handed out the covert radios, complete with wireless earpieces and microphones. “That’s going to make things a lot easier.”

Kenta smiled and nodded.

Saneh zoomed in on the digital map. “So we wait for them up here and then we tail them, yes?”

“
Hai, dozo
. That is a good plan.” Kenta nodded. “Then once we find them we kill the Mori-Kai.”

“Well, maybe not straight away,” said Bishop.

Kenta looked at him blankly.

“First we get the intel, then we do the killing,” clarified Bishop.

“Ah, yes, very good. First intel, then killing.”

“Never thought I’d hear you say that, Agent Wilson.” Saneh smiled sweetly. “Someone’s finally growing up.”

CHAPTER 47

KOBE TO HIMEJI

The business jet touched down at Kobe Airport at 1600 hours. As it taxied across the tarmac to the private terminal, Masateru finished his drink and turned to Karla. “Welcome to Japan, your new home.”

The striking blonde glared back at him over her glass of champagne. Despite her anger she looked comfortable wrapped in the expensive leather chair.

The aircraft came to a smooth halt and the flight attendant opened the doors. Warm air carried the damp smell of the ocean into the cabin.

Masateru slicked his hair back with a comb and donned his jacket. He waited for Karla to finish her own preparations, then directed her to the exit. At the top of the stairs he gave her a moment to take in the scenery, her eyes wide with wonder. The airport was on its own island, just off the coast of Kobe. The cries of seagulls filled the air; it was nothing like the quiet European village she had grown up in.

“Get in the car.” Masateru gestured toward the black Lexus sedan.

A sturdy Japanese man wearing a long jacket and sporting a crewcut stood at the open door.

“
Oss
,” he said in greeting, bowing slightly. Masateru nodded in return. Hideaki was among his most trusted Kissaki, recruited from the same Special Forces unit as Ryu.

“Where are we going?” Karla asked. “Why the guard?”

“Not everyone here is our friend, my dear. We’re going into the city. Then you will meet your new master.”

Masateru waited until Hideaki had put Karla in the car. “Where is Ryu? Why isn’t he here?”

“The
oyabun
has tasked him to find the
gaijin
.”

“And?”

“The
oyabun
wishes to brief you himself.”

Masateru scowled as he climbed into the Lexus. Although Ryu was the Kissaki commander, the former Japanese soldier worked for Masateru, not the
oyabun
. It was Masateru who had thought of the idea to recruit former Special Forces; it was he who had formed the Kissaki. The
oyabun
only provided the funds that made it possible.

Inside the car, he passed Karla a blindfold. She looked at him with angry eyes and then slowly tied it around her head. He issued a command in Japanese and they drove off the tarmac through a set of security gates and onto the causeway that separated the man-made island from the docklands.

“A black sedan, Lexus I think,” Kenta transmitted over the radio. He had parked his motorcycle in the parking lot opposite the main terminal. From the far side it offered an uninterrupted view of the airport’s facilities. He was using a long-lens camera to watch the jet land and had caught a glimpse of the blonde when she paused at the top of the stairs. “The girl is definitely in the car. She arrived with a man. I think I know him.”

“Bad hair, bad suit?” Bishop transmitted.

“
Hai,
I have taken some photos. They’re leaving now.”

“I’ve got them.” Saneh waited for the car to hit the halfway point on the causeway before gunning her Kawasaki Ninja and slipping into the traffic behind it.

“Don’t get so close,” Bishop warned as the car passed by the shabby-looking warehouses of the docklands.

“I know what I’m doing.”

“Of course you do,” Bishop said to himself as the black sedan raced past his parked GT-R. A second later Saneh flashed by on her bike. “Women,” he sighed. “They can’t be told.”

“No, but they can remember to take their thumb off the transmit button.”

Bishop laughed as he pulled the GT-R away from the curb. “Maybe I wanted you to hear.”

“Then you’re more special than I thought.”

Kenta’s voice filled the airways. “Are you sure you’re not married?”

“The downside of working together for so long.” Saneh now tailed the Lexus by half a dozen car lengths. Kenta followed another hundred feet behind, with Bishop bringing up the rear in the GT-R.

“They’re turning onto the highway,” said Saneh.

“Left or right?” asked Kenta.

“Left.”

“They’re heading to Himeji,” said Kenta.

“What’s in Himeji?” asked Bishop.

“It is the traditional home of the Mori-Kai.”

“That was over a thousand years ago, right?”

“In Japan, traditions take more than a thousand years to die.”

The Lexus accelerated along the sweeping highway ramp that joined with the Hanshin Expressway. The high-rises of Kobe’s commercial district flashed past as they traveled along the coast.

Behind them Saneh was focused, crouching low in the saddle and weaving the superbike between the traffic. “They’re pushing it hard.”

“You want to hand over?” asked Bishop over the growl of the GT-R. “I’m doing fine. Kenta, where are you?”

Silence on the airways.

“What the hell happened to Kenta?” Saneh wove the bike between two slow-moving trucks.

“Nice move! I’m not sure. He was here a second ago.”

“Damn it, I guess it’s up to us then.”

Saneh continued to tail the Lexus as it powered down the highway, scarcely able to absorb the scenery as it flashed past. High-rises, warehouses, tunnels, forests, and apartment complexes blended into a blur of color as she focused on tailing the car without being spotted.

Behind her, Bishop concentrated on keeping her in sight, ready to take over the tail if Saneh thought she might be compromised.

Fifteen minutes later Saneh lost sight of the car as it rounded a corner. She accelerated the bike to close the gap and rocketed past an exit. The Lexus was nowhere to be seen. “Damn, I’ve lost them.”

“You’re kidding me. Where the hell could they have gone?”

“The exit, take the exit!”

Bishop was in the outside lane as he came round the bend, overtaking a bus filled with children. He slammed on the brakes and sent the GT-R sliding sideways across four lanes. The tires shrieked as he angled toward the exit ramp.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” The exit barrier loomed in Bishop’s window. He took his foot off the brake and punched the accelerator. The GT-R roared, regained its footing, and blasted down the ramp. “Where to now?”

“I don’t know. I’m trying to find a way off this thing.” Saneh remained on the highway looking for an exit.

“We’re going to lose them.” Bishop stopped at the lights at the bottom of the ramp. He couldn’t see the car in either direction. He slammed his palms into the steering wheel in frustration.

“I’m off, a couple of blocks ahead,” reported Saneh, her voice distorted. The little UHF radios were almost out of range.

“Screw it, I’m going left.” Bishop turned the GT-R toward the docklands.

“I’m doing the same,” Saneh announced.

“Keep coming, I’ve got them. They’re heading into Himeji’s docklands.” Kenta’s voice came through over the radio.

“Where the hell have you been?” Bishop asked.

“I took a shortcut to get ahead of them,” he responded calmly. “You and she raced off and I couldn’t reach you on the radio.”

There was a pause.

“They’ve stopped,” said Kenta. “They’ve gone into a warehouse in the
Shirahama-cho
Usazakiminami
block.”

Bishop glanced up at a street sign, the characters meaning nothing to him. He activated the car’s in-dash GPS; the Japanese characters confused him even more. “I’m somewhere in the docks area, heading toward the water, not sure what happened to Sarah.”

“I’m right behind you.”

Bishop looked into his rearview mirror. There she was, clad from head to toe in skintight leathers and wearing a full-faced helmet. She gave him a nod.

“No need for you to come closer,” Kenta said. “I know where they’ve stopped and they do not know that we know. We should try to keep it that way.”

“Good idea. Can you get extra men to help?” Bishop pulled the GT-R into a shopping complex parking lot. Saneh brought her bike in next to him.

“Yes, I have already called for more men.”

“Good, we’re parked in a 100-yen shop three blocks from the highway exit.”

“I know it. I’ll meet you there once my people arrive.”

The door to the GT-R opened and Saneh lowered herself into the passenger seat. She dumped her motorcycle helmet on the floor and adjusted her hair. Bishop couldn’t help but smile as she struggled to bend her legs in the tight leather.

“Shut the hell up,” she snapped.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were going to. I know I messed up the follow.”

“All good. Kenta seems to have it all in hand.”

“I missed the last conversation. What’s the plan?”

“Just as we discussed, Kenta’s going to bring in more men. Then we can bang in, grab the girl, and nail Masateru.”

“No, we need to get intel on these guys. You said it yourself.”

“We’ll get intel off the target.”

“I think it’s too early to show our hand. We’ve got the advantage now; the Mori-Kai don’t know we’re here.”

“What do you think we should do?”

“We wait and watch, follow any vehicles coming or going. Once we have a second location we hit the warehouse.”

“What if we lose her?”

“That’s a risk. But if we grab her now we definitely won’t find the next level up in the chain. If the Mori-Kai are all they’ve been made out to be, this shitty warehouse will be just one link in a chain of facilities.”

“OK, fine, we wait. But I’m not happy about it.”

“When are you ever happy about my decisions?”

“When they’re right.”