Chapter 61

 

 

DAY 7

 

 

GINZA, TOKYO, 2012, hrs

 

A SWIFT BREEZE blustered their way. Calla observed the glint against the skyscrapers’ dazzling billboards, publicizing everything from branded goods, to chocolate as they plodded past the clock tower of the Ginza Wako building, the symbol of Ginza district in central Tokyo.

With Tsukiji fish market on one side and downscale Shinbashi district on the other, Ginza presented a thriving and prosperous, commercial center with an animated flair of its own. One of the most lavish pieces of real estate in Japan, and possibly the world, Calla, Jack and Nash meandered through the characteristic destination, strewn with pedestrian sidewalks, built alongside skyscrapers and well-heeled, side street boutiques. Small shops merchandising traditional crafts found their home among galleries, landmark department stores, enticing locals and travelers alike.

Calla’s neck and arm throbbed from her struggle with the shinobi the day before. Her mood had been wounded after hearing the name Eva. In the last several hours, she’d churned words round her head, words that she’d exchange with the socialite from Paris, who’d always had a natural air of confidence and substantial powers of persuasion–especially when it came to, men.

They navigated down a bustling boulevard, a few blocks from Tamiko’s lavish offices. The upscale avenue, home to many department stores, boutiques, restaurants and coffeehouses illuminated Calla’s spirits with its stunning lights, gleaming off towers, where virtually every leading brand on the planet had a home.

Calla glared up the expanse of a seventy-three-story building, its tower disappearing into the night sky. The men patrolled before her in amiable conversation, unaware of her contorted weight of sentiment.

They coasted into a street beneath elevated train tracks, north and south of Yūrakuchō Station. Extending more than seven hundred meters, several restaurants stood within the brick arches. They moseyed into an upscale Teppanayki restaurant Tamiko had suggested, an anonymous building on a quiet back-street.

Here, Calla would see Eva again. Eva had been their high school, Beacon Academy’s own problem child, and certainly, once, an adversary on all fronts. Now owner of part of her father’s billion-dollar empire of conglomerates, dealing with everything from luxury goods to wine products, Eva had forked a space on Fortune one-hundred’s serving plate and recently launched her own international news corporation, Riche Media. The Parisian, who lived in London’s glitzy Chelsea, had taken a private flight shortly after Nash had texted her back.

Calla tried to dislodge the weight of anguish that pinned itself to painful memories with Eva. True, the girl had proved herself useful in locating Stan though, her methods had been rather unwelcome and unconventional. What is she up to?

They moseyed to the entrance of the local steakhouse and waited to be seated into the space whose modern entrance contrasted the traditional meal Calla anticipated to have. The contemporary restaurant kept a delicate equilibrium between Japanese and Western style. Calla’s eyes wandered to the all-wood, dim-lit setting circled by several seats along wooden counters, whose centers displayed iron griddles. The frying scent of anything grill-worthy, beef, shrimp, scallops, lobster, chicken and assorted vegetables tossed in soybean oil wafted their way.

“Have you ever had Teppanyaki?” Nash asked.

Calla shook her head.

“You’ll like it,” Jack said.

A waiter led them to a round high table in whose center stood three chefs. The cuisine artists chopped, cut and prepared grilled wagyu beef, seafood alongside fried garlic rice and fixed miso soup dishes. The barbecue aromas reminded Calla of her hunger, having not had a genuine meal all day. She’d spent most of the day asleep, trying to counterpart her rhythm with Tokyo time.

They took seats facing the chefs and Nash ordered. His face relaxed into a smile as he clasped his hands together. “The preparation and presentation of our dinner will take place right here on the heated steel plate.”

“Looks like you know the menu inside out,” Jack said.

Nash smiled. “You learn to get by after being stationed in Tokyo for more than six months.”

Calla’s ear caught the clacking movement of stilettos on the wooden floor beneath them. The waft of a luxurious, floral fragrance told her that Eva had found her way to their seats.

Eva. The woman she loved to hate. The woman who’d once thrown herself at Nash, challenged her at school, attempted to infringe on her life. The list of offenses was too long to roll through in the twelve seconds it took for the stilettos to settle by their table. Composed, but alert Calla straightened her shoulders as Nash rose, as did Jack.

Calla swiveled on her seat and took in the approach of the elegant Parisian vision. Eva wore a cotton, tweed jacket with a leather trim over a strapless dress of possibly the same make and a pair of expensive satin pumps, adorned with a translucent ankle strap. The pearl necklace around her long neck seemed oversized for Calla’s taste, but it sat neatly in line with her auburn locks.

Eva gave Nash and Jack a French peck on the cheek. She took note of Nash’s bruise over his left eye. “At it again, Nash? How did you get this war wound?”

Nash dipped his head an inch without comment, his face carefully neutral and withdrawn. He seemed to sense Calla’s misgivings about the meeting. Calla observed as flawless, manicured hands caressed the spot on Nash’s brow. “Dear me, Nash, you need a little peace in your life,” Eva said.

Nash removed her hand from his face. “It’s nothing.” He pulled out a seat for her next to him. “Please, sit. We’ve just ordered.”

Eva slid into her seat and stood abruptly. “Goodness, Calla, I forgot to say hello.”

She gave Calla a bisous, a peck on both cheeks and took her seat. They exchanged small talk about history and Japanese culture. When their fillet of salmon, grilled shrimp, sirloin steak, with a bed of cabbage, bean sprouts and shiitake mushroom arrived, Calla could hold her patience no longer. She pushed her plate away from her. “Eva, you’ve come a long way. Tell me, what information do you have? What did you discuss with my father?”

Eva picked at her food, visibly not a meat fan. “Oh, the usual small chat. Your father is a lovely man.”

Calla’s expression was a mask of stone. “Don’t pretend to know my father.”

“I’m sorry, Calla. I only meant that he’s such a gentleman.”

Calla watched her, contemplating the motives for the well-groomed face.

Jack swallowed hard and shot a glance at Nash’s face that gave nothing away.

“I’ve stayed in touch with Stan. Come on, Calla, I thought the past was done and dusted between us,” Eva said.

“It is, Eva. I just want to know why you flew thousands of miles from London. What was so urgent you could not tell us by another means? We have several means of communications in this glorious age of technology, such as, a phone.”

Jack’s body remained immobile, not really sure how react. He glanced from one woman to another.

Eva studied Nash for a few seconds. “Not an easy one is she, Nash?”

Calla rose, her napkin sliding to the floor. She dipped to retrieve it and as she rose, picked up her table knife and stroked the steak blade slowly. She aimed the sharp tip toward Eva’s face. “Will this conversation require some coercing?”

Eva’s horrified face begged for understanding. “Mon Dieu! My goodness! I do have information. If you’ll sit, I’ll share it.”

Nash set a hand on Calla’s shoulder. She glanced over at him and took a deep breath before settling back into her seat. Seven months ago, it had been torture to watch Eva throw her affections at Nash, a topic that had never been raised. “Okay, let’s hear what you have to say,” Calla said.

“Your mother is alive.”

Was she lying?

“How do you know?” Jack added.

“I have my sources,” Eva said.

“Spill them,” Calla probed.

Nash interrupted, his voice soft spoken but firm. “Eva, if you know where Calla’s mother is, it’s important you tell us.”

“Calla’s mother knew Mason very well,” Eva said.

“How do you come to that conclusion?” Nash said.

“I spied through Mason’s files several months ago. She must be alive. He had a whole dossier on Nicole Cress,” Eva explained, her eyes looking away swiftly at the sight of Calla’s scowl.

Calla threw her hands in the air. “This is getting us nowhere. I could’ve told you that.” How can Nash and Jack sit there and listen to this? Why did we let her come here? We have little time left and Eva is wasting it.

Calla rose. “I’m going to the ladies’ room.” She shot Eva a look. “When I get back, I hope your logic has a little more comprehensive detail. Like, why you’re really here.”

Nash rose and watched after Calla as she scuffed to the far end of the restaurant, crossing tables of entertained diners. When she burst through the grand-mirrored restrooms, her olive cheeks had suffused with blood until they were nearly crimson. She had to face the truth. She’d never forgiven Nash that day in London when she’d witnessed something so tender between him and Eva. The visual felt like poison in her veins.

Calla never gave way to hidden emotions, especially over Eva.

Why was it so hard to forget? To trust. She’d never talked to him about it and the matter had been flung into the sea, with a lead boulder attached. But now, its weight, however improbable, had come floating to the surface, challenging her equilibrium. Damn it! Eva’s being out of the picture had made matters easier over the last six months.

Let it go! Then why could she not release the instinct that Eva was hiding something, yet again.

Calla paced back to the table and registered Nash’s look of concern.

He drew her close. “You okay?” she nodded and slipped into her seat beside him. “Yeah.”

Calla’s chair edged over a small bump, possibly a small pebble. As she rose from the seat to remove the interference, her eyes fell on a microchip on the floor. No bigger than a grain of rice, she retrieved the transponder, encased in silicate glass and examined it. “What’s this Eva?”

Jack took the item from Calla’s hand and scrutinized the subdermal implant. “This is a human, microchip implant. Where did you get this?”

Calla turned to Eva. “Eva?”

Eva curled her shoulders over her chest, covering her face with her hand. “It’s nothing.”

Calla hoisted herself on the chair and moved in toward the socialite, her face inches from her. “Listen, Eva, I’m giving you three seconds. Tell me what this is.”

Eva brought a shaky hand to her forehead, letting out an uncontrollable whimper, her face perspiring. “Calla, I can’t. He’ll kill me!”

“Who?” Nash said.

Eva transported shaky palms to her throat, wheezing for air. She took a sip of cold water. “You don’t understand him. He’s gone ranting mad!”

The trio around her exchanged perplexed looks before Jack edged forward with intrigue. “I think she means Mason.”

“Eva, tell us what this is all about. We can help you,” Calla said.

Eva’s head shook in uncontrollable jerks her eyes registering dread as her words spewed in stutters. “I . . . went to see Mason when he was in prison. I owed him a service from months ago. The only way we could settle the matter was if I . . . if I—”

She clutched Nash’s sleeve. “Nash, you have to believe me. I didn’t want to. He made me. He said I owed him.”

Nash raised an eyebrow. “What did he do?”

She shook her head feverishly and in three seconds her hands found her throat again.

Calla charged to her side and grasped her arm, raising it so Eva could breathe lighter. “She’s having a panic attack.”

Eva fell back in Calla’s arms, her head limping to one side. Calla delivered five palm knocks between Eva’s shoulder blades with the heel of her hand. “Breathe! Eva, breathe. He can’t touch you. He’s not here.”

Eva’s eyes trolled into the back of her head. Her hands sagged to her sides before collapsing into Calla, sending them toppling to the wooden floor. Eva’s body shuddered for a few seconds.

Then, she was still.

 

 

 

2220 hrs.

 

Hospitals made Calla queasy. Three paramedics wheeled an injured man through the double doors at the end of the waiting room. The emergency care section of Saint Luke’s International Hospital in Tokyo’s Chūō district was not busy that night. A young family sat at the opposite end of the waiting room, quietly contemplating while sipping carbonated beverages. The smell of antiseptic and cleanliness resonated in the establishment. She glimpsed up and watched Jack scrutinize the microchip. Eva’s one mission. She’d failed Mason and he would know it soon enough.

Jack fingered the minuscule microchip in his hands as he stood leaning against the concrete divider in the center of the pristine waiting area as few individuals waited for medical results, checkups, treatments and news that might affect their lives. He raised the microchip against the light. “This subdermal human implant can be embedded in the skin. My guess is Mason intended to use it as a tracking device, or a worse, a detonator.”

Calla, who’d sat still listening to him, jerked to her feet and removed the chip from his hands. For several seconds, she rotated the little device in her fingers, before glancing up at his resolute face. “Why would Mason use Eva?”

“I suppose, as she explained, she owed him a favor.”

Jack was right. Calla recalled how Eva had made a deal with Mason seven months ago. In exchange for information about Calla, Eva had agreed to deliver a multi-million-dollar deal to Mason through her father’s empire, Riche Enterprises, however unconventional the methods. The arrangement had backfired and Eva’s father, Samuel Riche, had walked out on Mason with an unsigned deal. Mason was banking in, even if it meant using someone so vulnerable like Eva. Her journalistic craving for scandalous information was costing her. Just a few doors down the hall, Eva fought for her life, another of Mason’s victims.

Calla had insisted Nash stay with Eva in the recovery room. He spoke Japanese and his ISTF credentials would ease the security check. He could also protect her from any further gimmicks Mason might conjure.

Jack stood leaning back. He checked his tablet as he twirled the device, scrutinizing it every two seconds. “It’s also a radio frequency microchip that can extract memories and information.”

“That proves that brain messages can be replicated by electrical signals from a silicon chip,” she said.

“Any information he can get on your hunt for your mother, helps him know how far you are.”

Calla gave him a long pensive glance and rubbed her moistening hands along her thighs. “We need Eva to wake up, so we can determine how much she knows or has communicated.” She took a deep breath. “You can’t really blame her. Eva is one of a kind. For years, she’s made such poor choices.”

“Are you still sore?”

“How can I be? Eva has always been a special one, Jack. At first, I was so angry. I wanted to make her pay.”

“Why?”

“Jack . . . I guess it’s nothing, just something between her and Nash I can’t explain.”

“Then let Nash explain. Have you spoken to him about it?”

She shook her head. “I probably should. Eva has never found herself and all she’s trying to do is fill a void left by her father and mother.” She glanced up at him. “Much like me.”

“At least you know what you want. I doubt Eva does.”

“Do I—”

The sound of approaching footsteps approaching made them turn as Nash inched toward them.

A spurt of guilt spiraled through her as he came nearer. “Is she going to be okay, Nash. What did the doctors say?”

Nash nodded slowly, raking a hand through his hair. “She’ll make it. The chip implant was embedded close to her neck. Also, Mason poisoned her.”

Calla drew her eyebrows together. “He did?”

“Yeah. Before she left London. He figured she’d gain our trust and pass on any information via the chip. The poison would leave her to her fate once he’d got what he needed.”

“So she scraped the chip out herself. When?” Calla said.

“Probably the restaurant,” Jack said. “She must have felt torn when you were questioning her and she knew he was listening. So she fingered it out?”

Nash nodded.

“What was she poisoned with Nash?” Calla asked.

“Mercury. The doctors found deposits by the skin where it had been implanted. She’s out of harm’s way, though. They’ve isolated the poison and she’s resting now.”

Calla lowered her eyes from him. “I’m glad she’s all right.”

Nash’s eyes focused on her face. “Were you okay back there at the restaurant?”

She nodded. “Yes. Why?”

Nash took her arm gently and leaned into her, his head towering a good few inches above her face. “You’d make a fine military, intelligence interrogator.”

Calla stood motionless. He was watching her reaction. “I—”

“Hey, nothing ever happened between Eva and me.”

She watched the seriousness in his eyes. He was telling the truth. He raised her hand to his lips and pressed a lingering kiss on it. “Ever.”

Calla dropped her shoulders and managed a half smile as she stroked his hair. “I’m sorry. Eva’s in there, fighting for her life, with no fault of her own. She needs our help.”

He drew her into an embrace. “Yes, she does. Any progress on the third anagram?”

Calla glanced at Jack. “We’ve been searching the entire time you’ve been in there and we’re still at a dead end.”

Calla’s cell phone rang and she pulled away from Nash’s grasp. She retrieved it from the back of her denim pocket. “Allegra. Hi, yes, we’re in Tokyo . . . I know. You spoke to Jack earlier today.”

She leaned into the phone. “What’s that?”

The strain in Allegra’s voice stirred Calla’s mood. “Have you found any more intel on your mother’s location?”

“No we had a hiccup here. Mason sent Eva Riche with a deadly message. She’s in critical condition in hospital, but will recover.”

Calla found she was pressing the receiver closer and closer against her ear. She placed the phone on speaker so Nash and Jack could hear the conversation. “We found something in Paris that led us to Japan and one of her former colleagues?”

“What was it?” Allegra asked.

“A medieval cloth that matched the first we found in Paris. It’s a message. I’m still trying to uncover the third part of her letter to me.”

Complete silence took charge of the other end of the line. The trio glanced at each other. Several seconds later, Allegra’s voice broke the silence. “Calla, I’m with Veda Westall at the hospital. She woke from her coma and is asking for you.”

“How is she? Has her condition improved?”

“I’m sorry, Calla. This is not a good night for you. When can you get back to London? Veda may not have much time.”

Calla almost dropped the smartphone. “How much time, Allegra?”

“Just hurry. The government is closing the British arm of ISTF. If Mason is not caught, MI6 will take over. Is Jack there?”

“Yes,” Jack said.

Allegra cleared her throat. “Jack, government satellites have been completely overpowered. We’re sitting birds and need ISTF special resources now more than ever.”

“I isolated one server. We can run on that for about seventy-two hours,” Jack said.

“All right. Calla, please hurry.”

“I understand, Allegra.” She looked at the clock on the phone. It was 10:40 P.M, Tokyo time. She glanced up at Nash. “How soon can we get to London?”

“By morning. We’ll have to hire a private jet. I doubt we can get a commercial flight at this hour.”

She turned to Jack. “Could you stay with Eva? She’ll be delusional when she comes round. We’re the only ones who can protect her now.”

Jack shot them a knowing look. “Okay. But be careful, both of you.”

Calla drew Jack in to her arms. “Be safe, Jack.”

Stalled for facts her mind pondered the last piece of the anagram left by her mother. Who is R-A-M S-K-I-N N-U?

What did her mother mean by ‘a mystery out of ten, a mausoleum of inexplicable men’?

Two people in her world were in hospital struggling to stay alive because of Mason and she could not help either one. Each way she looked, failure gawked at her. She gripped the phone, her knuckles whitening. “Allegra, I see you in London in the morning.”