The Tomorrow Heist (13 page)

Lew got up and took a few steps but then stopped. Almost a dozen men were heading toward him from the stern. They stood between him and his goal—­the equipment at the back of the boat.

Guide wires and communication cables ran from the top of pilot house to the hydrographic winch just above the stern, where these crewmen had been dressing him just a few minutes ago.

“Damn it! I need some kind of . . .” Lew looked down at the unconscious crewman behind him. He grabbed him and undid his belt, pulling it out of the crewman's pant loops. He put the belt between his teeth and climbed back up on the pilot house as the crewmen reached the deck behind him. One of them grabbed his foot as Lew was pulling himself up. Lew grabbed onto the base of one of the antennas to keep from being pulled down, kicking blindly behind him. On the third kick he made contact with something. A crewman grunted, and Lew was free again.

On top of the pilot house, Lew turned and saw that there were now two dozen crewmen coming toward him.

“Seriously?” Lew shouted at them.

He climbed a few feet up one of the antennas, swung the belt over the guide wire, and kicked off, sliding down the length of the ship with his feet lifted so the crewmen he flew over couldn't grab him. He smiled with victory until he realized his ride was coming to an end—­at high speed. His instinct was to let go and roll with the impact, but with forty pounds of tank on his back, that would be disastrous at worst and damage the tank at best. The tank he needed.

Off to the starboard side was one of the two rescue launch boats, secured by taut ropes and currently covered with canvas sheets. It would burn the hell out of his hands, but he didn't have any choice. He swung his legs back and thrust them forward, letting go as he reached the swing's apex. The momentum tossed him to the point where the rope ran down to the base of the winch and tied off. He just hoped it was tied well.

Lew grabbed the rope and squeezed tight. The rope burned his palms, and he howled but held on as his body churned through the air. Finally, he let go, slamming down face-­first into the rescue boat's canvas, almost bouncing right off the ship and into the water. He pulled himself up and jumped down to the deck, running the second his feet hit the metal plating.

If I can just get to the fins and sled.
Then another voice in his head said what if there is no boat out there? He shook that voice away and kept going.

A few yards later, he was back where they'd tried to squeeze him into his wetsuit. He heard metal bulkhead doors slamming open behind him and more footsteps than he cared to count. His plan had to change. There was only time to grab one thing and keep running. He reached down, grabbing the swim fins and mask from the deck, as he heard a gunshot and felt something whiz by over his head. Then he threw himself over the side of the ship.

As soon as he was beneath the surface—­his palms screaming from the cool relief—­he swam under the ship for protection. Lew put his regulator in his mouth and took a few calming breaths, then he put his mask on, blowing out his nose to clear the water from his vision. He blinked as everything came into stark focus. On either side of the ship, tubes of bubbles shot repeatedly down into the water. Bullets. They were shooting wild, as he'd guessed they would. He slipped on his swim fins and checked the dive computer on his wrist.

He couldn't wait much longer. If the crewmen got their wits about them and threw on some gear to come after him, he was done. He swam the length of the ship, angling down as he did, then turned and followed his computer's heading. The
Jirojin Maru
was the only other thing on the water within fifty kilometers. But even if there'd been alternatives, it didn't matter. Jonathan—­hopefully—­would be on that ship. The crewmen trying to grab him—­and the bullets, of course—­was the only reason he was in the water without a full wetsuit. The long swim ahead of him was crazy, but with Jonathan possibly in the same danger as Lew, he didn't have a choice. Lew had no idea what was going on here, but there was one thing he did know—­this had nothing to do with a painting.

 

All Aboard

 

Chapter Sixteen

Jirojin Maru

9:30
A.M.
Local Time

A
N
HOUR
AFTER
taking off, Jonathan's chopper touched down on the deck of the
Jurojin Maru
. The flight over had only taken a few minutes, but Fahd's report of helicopter traffic had been dead-­on. When they'd arrived in the vicinity, they were seventh in line. The ship wasn't the largest one Jonathan had ever seen, but it was damn close.

The horizon was already darker from the approaching storm than when they'd left the
Atlantis Explorer
, making the midmorning look like dusk. They were in for some serious chop before the day was over.

But weather conditions aside, the location was remote, to say the least. Jonathan thought it was an odd place to have a world conference on longevity. And somehow he doubted it was a coincidence.

As the rotors wound down, hunched crewmen came running over to the helicopter. They pulled the doors open and, without a word, rapidly took Jonathan's bags out. There were even more helicopters hovering overhead awaiting their turn for one of the two helipads on the deck, and the crew clearly wanted Jonathan's helicopter back up in the air as soon as possible.

Jonathan looked past the busy crewman at the frenetic activity on the deck. They were on the fore helipad, and dozens of ­people milled around outside. Many were obviously
Jirojin Maru
crew members or security staff, the latter identifiable by the weapons over their shoulders. But others were obviously conference guests, everyone dressed to the nines and surrounded by more baggage than most celebrities had, waiting for their turn to be taken to their staterooms.

“And when Alexander saw the breadth of his domain, he wept for there were no more worlds to conquer,” Fahd said from the pilot seat.

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing. The extravagance and waste just gets to me sometimes. Anyways, when you step out, you're Chris Hudson until we meet again. Like I said, you'll do fine. Mix and mingle and play the part for a while. And whatever you do, don't lose that pendant.”

Fahd had been acting strange ever since they'd left the
Atlantis Explorer
. Not that Jonathan knew him well enough to really have a baseline on his personality, but he just seemed . . . off. But of course, part of that could've been that Jonathan himself felt off being here without Lew.

One of the crewmen banged on the side of the chopper.

“
Iku jikan
,” he said at first. Then, “No time. You go.” Before either Jonathan or Fahd could reply, he backed away from the chopper and waved his arms up like a magician trying to levitate his assistant.

“That's my cue,” Fahd said. “We'll be in touch. Have fun, Dr. Hudson.”

“Right,” Jonathan said, stepping out of the chopper onto the deck. The warm wind gusting from the clouds on the horizon buffeted him as he adjusted his jacket before jogging over to where his luggage had been put down.

Jonathan watched the chopper rev up, then lift off the deck. As he watched, he felt a hand gently caress his back.

“Hi, I'm Melinda. You look like you could use a drink,” a raspy voice shouted over the noise of the chopper.

Jonathan turned around and looked down at about thirty-­two pounds of cleavage. Her badge said “Melinda Lacie, Crystasis Foundation.” She was barely over four feet tall, smelled of vanilla, hair spray, and margaritas and apparently had an affinity for spandex. Reflexively, Jonathan took one of the drinks she was holding.

“Thanks.”

“You're tall,” she drawled out. Her eyes seemed to be having trouble focusing. Jonathan looked past her for help but instead saw a line of similar women. They all raised their glasses to him with the same inebriated smile Melinda was wearing.

Oh boy.

 

Chapter Seventeen

Jirojin Maru

9:57
A.M.
Local Time

M
AGGIE
HAD
BEEN
welcoming conference guests for the past two hours. She'd designated the bow heliport for all the higher-­profile conference guests and was greeting them personally. She was so tired, she thought it was a miracle that she hadn't dozed off and fallen over the side of the ship by now. Especially with the wind buffeting the deck.

The sky was gray, and the wind made the clouds look like the undulating smoke from a volcano. So far the rain had left them alone, but she knew that wasn't going to last. Captain Tanaka had said they were just getting the edge of the storm but warned that could change at a moment's notice. Maggie had a crate of rain slickers and umbrellas off to the side if things shifted, but looking at it just reminded her about that huge crate down in the ship's hold.

All night—­first, while clinging convincingly to Alex Corsair's sweating, naked body, and later while attempting to actually get some sleep—­she'd drifted in and out of consciousness wondering what could possibly be in that crate. Or any of the crates, for that matter. She was purposely being kept out of the loop, but she felt there had to be a reason. It had to be more than the fact she was new to the ship.

Of course, part of her needed there to be a reason. Not just to her exclusion but to what Dr. Eric Norris's disconnected call had meant. They didn't have any hard facts or evidence, but Maggie had gotten a gut feeling when she's seen Norris's name on the call log. After researching his name, she was sure something was going on here besides a fun weekend in the—­currently hiding—­sun and a discussion of gerontology.

She was being marginalized—­not only on the ship but at MI6 as well. A sensible person probably would have taken the hint and moved on, but after what she'd been through, she just couldn't bring herself to give up. It wasn't in her nature. She would always fight, buck the trends, wade upstream. And she knew there would come a time when she'd be the albatross on someone else's mission. But not today. Today she knew she was right.
Knew
it deep in her gut. And it would take a lot to dissuade her from that opinion. Even more than the disappointment she felt at that moment.

“Empty?” Maggie said into her radio when she answered Alex's hail and heard his report. “That's impossible!” A silver AgustaWestland AW119 Koala Ke chopper slowly touched down behind her. She put one finger in her ear to block out the noise.

“I don't know what to tell you, darling. I'm down here with the lid off, and it's empty,” Alex said. She'd left her room while Alex was still asleep. She knew her job and could do it with the best of them—­all of it—­but she just couldn't stomach starting today by facing his smug, satiated gob.

She wracked her brain. How could it be empty? It had weighed a ton. Even with all her body weight, she hadn't been able to budge it. Maggie looked over her shoulder as the chopper's rotors wound down, and guards started toward the doors.

“They must have emptied it. What about the other crates? The smaller ones,” she said, desperate for some sort of validation.

“They're all empty. Come and see for yourself.”

“No, no,” Maggie said. She didn't have time for this now. “Never mind. Did you call the Home Office? Are we getting any help?”

“I'm afraid I'm nothing but bad news today, darling. They want some proof before they allocate any more resources. They actually tried to recall me, but I fought them on it. Afraid all I can offer you is one old agent for the duration.”

“At least that's something. Thanks, Alex. I appreciate it,” Maggie said, walking slowly toward the chopper as a ­couple of diplomats from Italy stepped down to the deck.

“Wish I could have done more. What do you want me to do now?”

“The last few guests are arriving now. I'll find you when I'm done up here, and we'll figure out our next move,” she said. She had to see someone else, first. She didn't know what he wanted, but Captain Tanaka had asked her to meet him in a passenger's room as soon as she was available. Problems already, and the conference had just begun. Great.

“See you then.”

Maggie put her radio away. It didn't make any sense. Any of it. The Home Office would never have tried to recall him. Was he was lying? For what gain?

Maggie took two welcome bags from the ship stewards standing near the walkway to the helipad, pasted a smile onto her face, and greeted the diplomats.

“S
HE
DOESN
'
T
B
ELIEVE
me,” Alex said from his seat on the huge crate he'd just lied about. He had been telling the truth about the smaller crates. They were all empty, now. “That slack you've been giving her is about to pull taut. I know you're not worried, but I'm not sure you're ready for what will happen.”

“No matter, Mr. Corsair,” Umi said. “In a few hours, I'll give my welcome speech, and things will be under way. She could be the most naive person on Earth or the savviest, but after that, it simply won't matter.”

Alex eyed the old woman. She gave this impression of being . . . not frail, but harmless. Then when you looked at her harder—­took a good, long appraisal—­what lay beneath her facade peeked out. While you were assessing her, she was assessing you. If you weren't careful, you could find yourself with no escape.

“So you still want to wait,” he said finally.

“Let the gas take care of her, along with everybody else,” Umi said. Then she slowly turned toward him, at first it seemed because that was as fast as she could move, but Alex knew it was because everything she did was deliberate and calculated, right down to how she angled her head when she looked at you. He knew the only response was to take it, to withstand the glare. Looking away would be your worst mistake.

“What is it?” he asked.

“You've been very useful, Mr. Corsair. I've quite enjoyed seeing how your mind works, but I would have thought someone as old as you would have learned patience and economy of effort by now.” She was baiting him.

“I guess I'm not a very quick study,” Alex said.

“I think we both know that's not true,” Umi said as she started for the door.

While he didn't show it, he was growing tired of her constant probing and evaluating. He could play that game too.

“And the crate?” Alex asked, jumping down. “Should we send it down or leave it here?”

Umi stopped in her tracks. It was the first time Alex had seen her react to something physically. She almost seemed to act her age for a moment but quickly regained her composure. She slowly turned and faced him.

“I don't care where it goes, Mr. Corsair.” Umi shuffled a little closer and held his gaze. “But if that crate is ever opened again . . .” She lifted a shaking finger but seemed to regain her composure and left the thought unfinished.

“Understood, darling.”

Umi took a moment to steady herself and headed back toward the door.

“And them?” Alex asked, nodding toward the two junior guards Maggie has sent down with Alex. They sat on the floor, up against the wall, their heads resting on each other's shoulders. Their haircuts, builds, and matching uniforms made them look like a ­couple of twin mannequins, like they weren't even real. Right down to the tight grouping of three bloody bullet holes in each of their chests.

“Do as you will,” Umi said without turning around.

Alex smiled. He hated to admit it, but he liked the old bird. It would be a shame if he had to kill her before this was over.

45,000 feet

10:21
A.M.

T
ATSU
SL
OUCHED
DOWN
so hard and fast in her seat, her head bounced off the airplane's window shade. She sucked air in through her teeth and rubbed the side of her head to make the pain go away.

“My goodness, are you all right?” the woman beside her asked in Japanese. Tatsu's quick movements had shocked the woman so, she'd spilled her drink all over her magazine.

“I . . . I'm fine,” Tatsu said. “I twitched as I was dozing off, sorry,” Tatsu said with a thin smile. She apologized profusely as she helped the woman clean off her tray, staying hidden behind the seat in front of her. Eventually, the woman returned to her soggy magazine, and Tatsu said she should get some sleep while she could.

They were only an hour out from Tokyo International Airport and what Tatsu had convinced herself was karmic good luck had turned out to be just the opposite. She had hoped Per Broden and his horrific arm had taken the earlier flight and spent an hour laying over in Paris. When she hadn't seen Per in Toronto's boarding area, or anywhere else, she'd taken it as a sign she was right. But she'd been wrong.

A few minutes ago she had looked over from watching the less-­than-­fantastic in-­flight movie and seen Per waiting his turn at the washrooms. He'd changed his clothes since she'd seen him outside the motel and shaved his head to hide his burned hair, but it was definitely him. She figured he must have been sitting in one of the sections closer to the nose of the plane, or she would have seen him before this. She was pretty confident he hadn't seen her, but even if she could stay out of sight for the rest of the flight, getting off the plane and through the airport was going to be a chore.

Tatsu peeked between the seats but couldn't see up to the washrooms from there. She leaned back and wondered why she hadn't contacted Umi directly to warn her, yet. Though she was pretty sure she knew the reason. By now, Umi no doubt thought she was dead. But more than that, it had been Umi's idea. Tatsu hadn't really dealt with those feelings, yet. She still wanted to protect Umi—­after all, she'd given Tatsu so much—­but she couldn't understand why Umi had been so ready to let her die. No, more than that. Had been so ready to
order
her to die.

Of course, Tatsu knew what everyone whispered about Umi: how cold she was, how heartless and merciless. But she'd never been that way with Tatsu. Quite the opposite. And after all these years, she knew it couldn't just be an act. That would take an incredible amount of guile and deception on Umi's part, not to mention an incredible amount of obliviousness on Tatsu's part. And she was nowhere near that foolish.

Am I?

Jesus, am I that easily manipulated? Has my entire life been serving an old woman who
bought
me? No, no that can't be true. It can't.

Tatsu's desire to get to Umi increased tenfold. She needed to know the answer. And she knew that she didn't have much time before there'd be no one to give it to her. But if she had to deal with Per first, she might never get to Umi or the answers she so desperately needed.
Unless . . . unless instead of protecting Nagura, I use him.

She realized she could use Nagura to delay Per, so Tatsu could have a final few minutes with her. There'd be a price to pay, of course. Nagura was a genius, but his creations aside, he didn't have the skills to fight a flea. Tatsu thought about that for a moment. His well-­being aside, Nagura had spent an incredible amount of time over the past six months with both Umi and Tatsu. And he had a keen, insightful mind. If he hadn't noticed anything manipulative in Umi's behavior toward Tatsu, anything Tatsu herself had missed in that time, chances are there was nothing to notice. But if she had missed anything because of the misguided devotion she felt for Umi . . .

First things first. She texted Nagura and told him to meet her in the workshop behind his restaurant just before the noon show started. And to leave the back door unlocked for her. Ten minutes later, she received a text back telling her that he would and he was looking forward to seeing her. She put away her personal feelings and focused on the next problem.

Regardless of what Per had discovered at Crystasis, he wouldn't know about the workshop. He would no doubt walk in the front door of the restaurant and get the lay of the land, first. He didn't realized how tight a timeline they were on, so Tatsu would have plenty of time to get Nagura's help.

Avoiding Per wouldn't be easy, but she'd certainly done harder things. All she really had to do now was make sure she stayed out of his sight until they landed. She turned toward the window and pulled the blanket over most of her face. As she waited for the hour to pass, she found herself running conversations she'd had with Umi through her mind. She had a great memory and could remember them almost word for word. With each conversation, her conviction that Umi wasn't that self-­serving got thinner and thinner.

She had to get to Umi before the gas was released. It was all that mattered, now.