Chapter Sixteen

The Law

 

For the first year, Ella tried to play by the rules. She attended classes and studied hard. It was a difficult and frustrating time. She had to learn and train while simultaneously studying English.

She chafed at the limitations imposed on her, but tried her best to stay within their bounds. She was someone who had grown up in the streets, unused to the rules of a structured life. She often complained that living at the Academy was worse than being one of Wiry Madras’s girls.

In the end, no matter how hard she tried, the experiment was doomed to fail. The real Ella Patel could only be locked up for so long.

 

The announcement that Shura was backing Abbi in the raised vessel’s claim for control of the South China Sea Islands came in the morning. This partnership, as Abbi insisted it be framed, whipped up a storm. Many among the Adonis vessels considered it no less than a full betrayal of their status as the gods’ chosen. Shura spent the rest of the day inundated with calls from dozens of outraged Adonises, each begging or threatening her to reconsider her position.

Rurik was already leveraging this news to his advantage, rallying the bulk of his kin to him, further isolating her from the rest of the Genjix. Even her Hatchery siblings, those she had grown up and struggled side by side with, had publicly denounced her.

Before the creation of the Genjix Hatcheries, the eugenics programs that bred and trained the Adonis vessels, all vessels were raised from ordinary humans. Now, Adonis vessels were the preferred method of transition for all Holy Ones. The success of this program had created a caste system among the vessels, the Adonises and the Raised. In a time when dozens of young and newly blessed Adonis vessels were clamoring for opportunities to serve the Holy Ones and lead, her support for a lowly raised vessel was bound to earn her many enemies.

As if these unproven Adonises consider themselves a whole other species.

Shura didn’t necessarily disagree with her Hatchery brothers and sisters. “Are we not the next evolutionary step?”

You are still human. As you were raised to be an Adonis vessel, you can also fall from grace.

Fortunately, Shura had insisted on a condition to her agreement with Abbi. Their partnership would only go public if the spymaster actually found actionable information leading to the location of the Receiver. The spymaster quickly proved as good as her reputation.

Shura had an advantage over Rurik: she knew what the Receiver’s vessel looked like. As they said, a picture was worth a thousand words, especially in the spy business. Shura was able to provide Abbi with a detailed and accurate description, which was fed into her networks.

Within a matter of days they got a hit with facial recognition, flagging a certain Victoria Khan matching the description of the Receiver’s vessel traveling from Sydney to Ninoy Aquino, and then to Tokyo. From there, security cameras placed at the train stations were able to confirm the girl traveling throughout the city as recently as a few weeks ago.

Shura was able to further corroborate the information when they intercepted a Prophus report citing a robbery at one of their safe houses beneath the city. One of the culprits was a short, scrawny girl of mixed Indian descent.

Abbi had passed the information to her contacts within the Tokyo Metropolitan Police and was able to arrange a secret meeting for Shura with the police superintendent-general. Getting the local law enforcement on her side was a big boon in finding the girl.

The die was cast.

Shura was in the air within the hour. She arrived at Narita Airport in the dead of night, again by commercial liner and shrouded in secrecy. She brought only Kloos and four trusted bodyguards. Any more, and she risked alerting Rurik, which was likely inevitable no matter how hard she tried to mask her movements. His network was far too extensive for someone of her standing to escape notice.

If she wasn’t detected at the major transportation hubs, she was bound to have been sighted by one of the many security cameras or facial recognition scanners, or even by a checkpoint officer on alert. For all she knew, Rurik could be having her tailed constantly. Still, time was critical, and every advantage counted.

Shura changed cars twice before departing the airport in an unmarked sedan. She headed immediately toward the Keishichō, the police headquarters of the Kasumigaseki district. There was no time to waste, and no such thing as business hours when dealing with the Genjix.

She changed cars once more and entered the underground parking garage in a utility van. Shura and her people emerged in the darkened garage and proceeded through a maintenance elevator. They exited on the sixth floor into the main hallway where they were greeted by an honor guard of twelve police officers in full uniform.

“So much for a secret meeting under cover of darkness,” she muttered.

A proper sign of respect for someone of your standing. I am sure it is not often the police superintendent-general receives a visit from a high-ranking Genjix vessel.

“Nice of them to scrounge up so many bodies in the middle of the night.”

The officers saluted sharply. Shura did her best to mask her irritation and walked past them in a manner expected of someone in her position. She was greeted by two more officers, women this time, also dressed in uniform. Shura noted, approvingly, that both women carried batons at their hips. They saluted and then gestured for her to follow, flanking her. The two rows of officers fell in behind them down a long brick corridor with large glass displays on one side with the uniforms of the Meiji Restoration and vending machines on the other.

The entourage continued up a set of stairs, through traditional wooden double doors, and right into an open central area filled with desks partitioned by glass walls. They passed several rows of low benches and lounge tables, two rows of waist-high bookshelves dividing the open area in half, and then entered a meeting room with all glass walls.

Five more officers stood at attention on the other side of a long table as Shura and her people walked into the aquarium. The fourteen officers who had accompanied them spaced themselves along the walls with their backs to the glass. They saluted together. It was all quite dramatic.

“A nice touch,” murmured Shura.

The man standing in the center of the group inside the aquarium took charge. He was older, and obviously more seasoned than the fresh-faced officers. If nothing else, the extra shiny badges on his chest gave him away. Shura always thought such ribbons silly. All it did was give her a clearer target of who to assassinate.

While the military in the governments under their control did employ such rankings, the Genjix did not. Their ranks simply had a natural way of falling into place. It was said one could always decipher an individual’s standing by was to simply seeing how they carried themselves. Shura didn’t have to know the identifications on his uniform ribbons to know that this was not the superintendent-general.

“What is the meaning of this?” she exclaimed loudly.

The officer bowed. “I am Captain Kitaro Miko. Superintendent-General Hitashi sends his regards and apologizes for not greeting you in person. He has served for many years and is of limited health.”

That is a plausible response.

Shura reluctantly agreed. “Send him my regards.”

Kitaro waited until she sat down before joining her. “To what do we owe this honor, Adonis vessel?”

“I seek a fugitive residing in your city,” she said. “Expat, likely hiding under several aliases. The Genjix require your force’s cooperation.”

“Has this individual committed a crime?” asked Kitaro.

“Irrelevant.” Shura adjusted her tone. Unlike most Adonis vessels, she understood the power of not-being-an-asshole. “It is an internal matter. You would have my deep appreciation for your aid and discretion.”

Kitaro pondered her words, and then nodded. “Very well. Please pass along all relevant information regarding your quarry. Do you have a photograph or description of this individual?”

“I do,” she replied.

“That would be most useful. If you transfer that data to me, I can have it processed quickly.”

That was easy.

“Indeed. Too easy perhaps.”

Shura tapped the screen on her forearm and was about to cast the data file to Kitaro.

Hold. Something is amiss. Look to your sides.

Shura pretended to be busy on her comm and then casually glanced to her left and then her right. An image flashed in Shura’s head: a female officer walked to the double door that they entered from, closed and locked it. Another quick flash: outside the aquarium, the hands one of the officers standing watch were shaking. He rubbed his fingers together, his palms sweating. One more flash: one of the officers mouthed silently to the man next to him. The words formed on his lips: get ready.

The final flash: it was a small gesture, barely perceptible, but Tabs missed nothing. Another officer moved his hand and loosened the straps of the baton holster around his waist. He gripped the handle as if preparing to swing. Shura could only come up with one reason. A gun was too lethal, a taser too limited.

They mean to take you alive.

For the police to attack a Genjix official, even during an unofficial visit, especially one with her standing, was no less than an act of war. Even Shura’s most hated rivals would see it as a personal affront to their religion and their gods. The Genjix countries would likely have the island blockaded within a week.

That is, unless a higher power was providing cover. Shura should be as safe here as if she were soaking in her own tub at home. Though in all seriousness, she had survived assassination attempts in the tub before. That could only mean one thing. This was sanctioned. Only one person in the entire world would have the knowledge, wealth, and desire to arrange this trap.

Kitaro looked up expectantly from his tablet. “Is there a problem, Adonis? I am still waiting for the image. We can proceed immediately.”

Shura stared the officer down. She was still puzzled. If this was a trap, and the police were about to arrest them, then why the charade? Why not simply arrest them at the airport or the parking garage? Why lead them up here with this elaborate ruse?

Of course…

“Rurik needs an image of the Receiver,” she remarked matter-of-factly. “He ordered you to get it before you captured me. How much did it cost him? I hope it was a princely sum, and I hope he paid in advance.”

Kitaro was not a great actor. “I do not know what you speak of–”

Shura scrambled onto the table and kicked a heel out, shattering his orbital bone. He flew backward out of his seat and into the glass wall with a heavy crack. Shura’s momentum carried her off the table. She landed on one knee and shot her hands outward, grabbing ahold of the two officers who were sitting adjacent to Kitaro. She torqued her body, pulling both men out of their chairs.

Try to avoid killing any of the police if possible.

Two successive strikes ended both their nights. The officer to her right barely had time to stand before Kloos was on top of him, his hammed fist coming down across the man’s temple. The remaining officer to her left suffered a similar fate when Vitali, one of her bodyguards, picked up a chair and bludgeoned him with it.

“That is probably too much of an ask in this situation.” She slammed the head of another police officer into the glass wall.

The rest of the officers outside charged into the room, only to be met by Shura’s entourage. Several pulled out their batons and banged on the glass, causing the interior to vibrate like a roof under a hail storm. There were too many bodies to fight and not enough space to take them all down efficiently. There was only one way out of this room.

Shura had a fix for that. She grabbed two metal beads the size of her thumb hidden in her belt, and lobbed them at opposite walls. The beads exploded upon impact, cracking the glass as well as filling the room with a red, swirling smoke. A second later, the glass walls on each end shattered, and the choking smoke rolled out into the open area.

Shura’s bodyguards spread out and attacked the remaining officers, like this had been their plan; as if this had been their ambush all along. Most bodyguards’ jobs were to be meat shields for the ones they protected. Shura’s people did not have to protect her; they were there to fight alongside her and to cover her flank against overwhelming odds.

Watch your breath count.

Several officers quickly fell into a coughing fit. Shura held a long breath in her lungs and slowly let it seep out through lightly clenched teeth. Genjix soldiers were trained to fight in this haze, offering them a significant advantage in close combat. She knocked the officers over easily as she mowed through their ranks.

One officer was stepping over the shattered wall when Shura barreled into him. The two fell, and she rolled to her feet. Shura immediately found herself surrounded. She ducked a swing to the head and sidestepped another to her body. She caught the wrist of a third attack – thrown lazily – and snatched the baton from the fool’s hand then, changing levels, dropped near the floor and upended two of her attackers with blows to the achilles. The third came swinging from up top. Shura parried the blow, slipped in, and slammed her elbow into his face.

A female officer approached Shura head on, not bothering to sneak up. She brandished two batons, which she banged together in a challenge. Shura offered her a brief nod as she wielded her own baton. She liked this woman’s moxy. The officer came at her with a coordinated flurry meant to overwhelm Shura’s defenses. Hard metal clanged against metal. The woman was good, much more skilled than the boys Shura had just taken out. It almost strained her reflexes to block the strikes. Even then, two got through, one hitting her square on the shoulder and the other glancing off her chin. In another situation, Shura might have tried to recruit this woman. Instead, she waited for a slight opening and charged, jabbing a knee into the woman’s gut, doubling her over. Shura finished her off with a baton blow to the jaw. She glanced down at the badge pinned on the woman’s chest: Amaya 3144. Shura might decide to offer her a job yet.

Behind you to the left. Going low.

The warning came too late. A coward attacked Shura from out of the corner of her eye. The most damaging strikes are the ones you never see coming. Almost anyone else would have buckled under that blow. The last-second warning gave Shura just enough time to prepare for it. She moved her weight off one leg just as the baton crushed the back of that knee. The resulting impact swung her leg outward, dampening the damage. Shura allowed the blow to swing her around as she brought the baton whistling down on her assailant’s head.

The officer, barely into his twenties by the looks of him, only had time to utter a strangled cry before he crumpled to the ground. When Shura put her weight back on her foot, it nearly gave. Grimacing, she raised the baton again to finish him off.

Shura. Remember what he is.

The baton came to a stop inches from cracking his skull. Nothing sets off a government like the killing of their law enforcement. She glanced up. The entire area was strewn with broken glass and bodies. Groans and pained cries filled the air. She took quick inventory: only four of her people were standing.

“Where’s Vitali?” she asked.

Roxani, another of her bodyguards, walked over to the unmoving body of her fallen man. She looked up and shook her head.

“Burn his body,” ordered Shura. “What about theirs? Casualty report?”

“All mine live, at least for now,” said Kloos. The rest of her people offered similar assessments.

“Good enough. Let’s go.”

Shura looked at the locked door from which they had come. There was a good chance there was an army of Tokyo police officers waiting for her on the other side, and likely more below. Perhaps there was another way. She went over to the floor-to-ceiling window on the near side of the building and peered over the edge. Her memory of the facility's map told her this was the southwest end, which meant they should be just above the sky bridge connecting to the adjacent building. Sure enough. It was a bit of a drop, but nothing her people couldn’t handle.

Shura reached into her belt and pulled out another bead. One explosion and several jumps later, the small group had managed to escape the building even as dozens of police cars swarmed around it. They watched as the night was lit up with red and blue lights.

“What happened, Adonis?” asked Kloos.

“It appears Rurik got to the police before we did,” she replied.

“Do you think Abbi betrayed us?” she thought to Tabs.

Unlikely. Her success now hinges upon yours. A double-cross would reflect poorly upon her.

“Your orders?” asked Roxani.

Shura loosed a sigh. “It is only a small setback. We know the Receiver is here in the city. We can clean this up in the morning. We’ll just have to find the girl another way. There are other government resources we can contact for assistance. I have a meeting with the Minister of Defense and the Head of the Public Security Service tomorrow. For now, off to the Ritz. I could use a bath.”

By morning, the small setback had grown significantly larger.

The news reported the incident at the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Headquarters as a bombing, a terrorist attack by a Russian separatist group. The city was now on high alert. The Japanese government had officially declared her a terrorist, and Shura was now a wanted fugitive with her photo plastered on every screen. They even gave her a catchy nickname: the Blonde Bombshell Bomber.

To add grave insult to injury, the reward for information that led to her capture was pitifully small.