Japan
Tanner took the afternoon right from Hon Kong to Osaka and arrived back at the Royal Palms at dusk; He was stepping from the shower when a knock came at his door. It was a bellman.
“Mr. Tanner, your party is waiting for you in the restaurant.”
“My party?”
“Yes, sir.”
Camille, Tanner thought and smiled. “Please tell her I’ll be down shortly.”
Ten minutes later, he walked into the restaurant. He was two steps through the doors when he saw her in the corner booth.
Even at this distance her black hair shimmered in the candlelight and her eyes shone as they returned his gaze. Her dress was simple, low-cut black silk with a single strand of pearls dipping into her cleavage.
He stared for a moment longer and then walked over.
“Welcome home,” she said.
“Hello.” He stared.
She smiled. “Do you want to sit down, or are you going to eat standing up?”
They shared a bottle of wine, then ordered dinner, which Briggs barely tasted. The conversation was effortless, and again he was surprised how natural it seemed between them. Even so, he felt an undercurrent of electricity, pleasant, yet slightly unnerving
Camille said, “It was a long two days.”
“For me, too.”
Suddenly she became demure; she toyed with the rim of her wineglass. For a moment Tanner wondered, disappointed, if this was an affectation, but he decided it wasn’t. There was a duality to Camille that he found irresistible. She was sexy and chaste, bold and uncertain, strong and submissive.
“So,” she said. “Shall we sit for a while, or we can walk on the beach—”
He stood up and extended his hand. “Come with me.”
“Where—”
“Just come.”
She took his hand.
Two minutes later they were at her room. Without a word, Camille opened the door, and Briggs followed her inside. He shut the door. The room was dark except for the moonlight filtering through the balcony door; a breeze billowed the curtains.
Camille leaned against the wall. “Don’t leave me this time, Briggs.”
“I promise.”
Then they were together, kissing, her arms around his neck. She arched her back against the wall, pushing her hips and breasts against him. Tanner drew down the zipper at her back. Her dress slid away. She wore no bra. He grazed his fingertips over the upper swell of her breasts, then gently cupped them and traced his thumbs over her nipples. She sucked in her breath and leaned her head back.
“Oh, God. Hurry, Briggs; I don’t want to wait.”
In one smooth motion, Tanner lifted her off the ground. She wrapped her legs around his waist and began unbuttoning his shirt as he carried her to the bed. As they fell together, she curled her hands around his neck and drew him down on top of her.
Afterward, they sat on the balcony wrapped together in a blanket, watching the ocean. Camille traced her finger along the corner of Tanner’s eye. “What’s this scar?”
“I got careless with a razor.” A razor that happened to be in the hands of a Korean soldier at the time, Tanner didn’t add. “Nicked myself.”
“And this one?” Camille touched under his right armpit.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Try me.”
“I fell on some broken glass.”
“Mmm. You should be more careful.”
After a while, she whispered, “Briggs, I have to leave in the morning.”
“What? I thought it wasn’t until the day after.”
“So did I. Something from work came up. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want it spoiling our evening.”
Tanner smiled. “Never argue with a woman’s wisdom.”
“Pardon?”
“Something my dad once told me.”
“A wise man, your father.”
Her tone was light, but Tanner knew she was thinking the same thing as he: Whatever they had now would probably end tomorrow. He wasn’t sure which feeling dominated his heart: sadness or relief. He was torn, and he hated it.
“I hate this,” Camille murmured.
“Me, too.”
“I don’t know how to …” A tear ran from Camille’s eye and fell on his chest. “What do we do, Briggs?”
Tanner wrapped his arms around her. “In the morning we’ll have breakfast, I’ll take you to the airport, we’ll promise to meet again, and then we’ll say good-bye.”
She looked up at him. “Just that easy?”
“No, not easy. Not easy at all.”
Camille kissed him, then lifted her leg over the chair and straddled him. She pulled the blanket around them and smiled. “Well, we still have time.”
She shed her robe and moved against him until they were both ready, then rose up and lowered herself onto him. She stayed that way, unmoving except for a gentle circling of her hips. They made love slowly, almost lazily, until she climaxed. She made no sound save a small gasp, then curled up against his chest.
They dozed and talked until the first tinge of sunlight appeared on the horizon.
“Almost dawn,” Tanner murmured.
“Take me back to bed, Briggs.”
A few hours later, after she finished dressing, Tanner took her luggage to the lobby, called for a taxi, and sat down to wait
After sunrise they’d shared breakfast on the balcony. Camille’s mood was cheery and playful, but it was forced as she dawdled about the room, combing her hair, packing and repacking, avoiding the clock. When Tanner finally told her they had to leave, she simply nodded and asked him to take her bag downstairs.
Suddenly the lobby doors burst open and in strode a genuine cowboy, complete with snakeskin boots, a silver and turquoise belt buckle, bolo tie, and a ten-gallon Stetson. Tottering his wake was a single bellman, his arms piled with luggage.
The cowboy stood about five eight and tipped the scales at a solid 220 pounds. His close-cropped beard and mustache were light brown.
The check-in process for the cowboy was swift, and within minutes he and his bellman were headed for the elevators. As he passed Tanner, Ian “Bear” Cahil tipped his hat at him, gave him a “Pardner,” then disappeared into the elevator.
The cavalry has arrived, Tanner thought with a smile. What was it Dutcher had said? Light cover for status? Briggs suspected Bear had chosen his own. It would do the job, though; the Pecos Bill act would be what people remembered; out of costume, Cahil would be almost invisible.
A moment later the elevator opened and Camille stepped out.
“Ready?” Tanner asked.
“Yes.”
An hour later, they were standing at the plane’s boarding gate. The attendant announced the last call for her flight. She cast an irritated glance at the jet way.
“Damn it.” She pressed a finger beneath her eye, trying to keep it from brimming. “This is silly. After all, this was just a vacation romance, wasn’t it?”
He took her in his arms. “No.”
She looked into his eyes. “No, I guess not.” She kissed him, then pushed herself away and picked up her carry-on. “I should go. I’ll miss my plane.”
“Good-bye, Camille.”
“Good-bye, Briggs.” She placed a tentative hand on his chest, then turned and walked onto the jet way.
Tanner asked the cabbie to drive for a while, not caring where, then returned to the Royal Palms. He walked up to Cahil’s room and knocked.
“Hold yer horses!” Tanner heard.
The door opened. “Sheriff,” Briggs drawled and walked in.
“You like it? I’m kind of enjoying it. They love cowboys here.”
“So I’ve heard.”
Cahil frowned at him. “You okay?”
“Yeah.”
“She make her flight?”
Tanner nodded.
“You want to talk about it?”
“No.”
Cahil ordered coffee and sandwiches from room service, and they spent the afternoon fleshing out their game plan. First they would check the locker at Sannomiya Station, which Tanner felt could be important for two reasons: One, instead of having secreted it somewhere, Umako was carrying the key when he died; and two, he hadn’t told the CIA about it.
Next they would check DORSAL’s series of dead-letter drops. Following that, assuming they got no response from the drops, would be to get clearance from the CIA to restart Ohira’s network, beginning with the one and only agent the CIA knew about, an engineer at Takagi Maritime. All this would take some finesse. Ohira’s contacts had probably heard of his murder, and a sudden reactivation might send them running.
“What about equipment?” asked Tanner.
“We should have it by tomorrow. When do you want to check the locker?”
“Tonight.”
Cahil nodded and downed the last of his coffee. “Then get the hell out of here and let me sleep. My body’s still on Washington time.”