The Tomorrow Heist (17 page)

Logically, killing Nagura made perfect sense. He was a loose end. But Tatsu knew that in a few hours it wouldn't make any difference. She was one of the few ­people who knew Umi's endgame. Only her, Alex Corsair, and Mr. Morgan knew what was coming. And Dr. Reese, assuming he was still alive. Besides, she was the one who had nicknamed the things Dead Li—­

Her thoughts were interrupted as someone yanked the door to the chopper open. Tatsu turned to see who it was.

It's not possible.

“Room for one more?” Per said as he got in and closed the door, the gun in his hand keeping Tatsu and the pilot pinned to their seats.

Where's Nagura? And more importantly, what does Per know?
As terrible as it was, her first thought—­her instinct—­had been exactly right. If she'd killed Nagura, Per would've been running around Tokyo in vain. But Nagura knew the transportation channels and had no doubt pointed Per right to her.

“I want you to understand something,” Per said. “
You
killed your friend. The same way you'll kill the pilot if you don't tell me exactly what I want to know. I'm a reasonable man . . .”

“Tatsu,” she said. There was no point in hiding any longer.

“I'm a reasonable man, Tatsu. But I will not be deterred. I am going to find out what Dead Lights means. That is a fact. You have no control over that,” he said, leaning in until the barrel of the gun was only inches from Tatsu's face. She could still smell the burned gunpowder of its recent firings. “But you can control
how
I find out.”

Tatsu's mind raced. Her options were few. She could achieve Umi's last request—­and protect her—­by forcing this man's hand and taking a bullet. But he wouldn't stop there. What he'd just said wasn't hyperbole—­she could tell that from his deeds and the look in his eyes. At the very least, the pilot would die. More likely, Per would torture both of them for information, only letting them die when he was sure they weren't useful anymore.

“I can see you're trying to decide how to react. Maybe this will help you; my employer hired me to kill you. I could have done that back in Toronto.”

“Why didn't you?” she asked.

“Because I don't care what he hired me for. It was just a way for me to get access to resources I needed. Resources to help me find out what “Dead Lights” means. Nagura didn't know, or if he did, he didn't tell, but I highly doubt that. Tracking the missing Dr. Reese was again just a way to find what I wanted. I don't care what happened to him. I'm telling you all this because I want you to be fully aware that what happens next is up to you. I want to be clear about what I want. I know you're the Dead Lights bomber. What I don't know is if you even know why you were doing what you were doing.”

Is he actually being honest?

“Why do you need to know what ‘Dead Lights' means so badly?” she asked.

“Call it . . . a personality quirk. The reason doesn't really matter, does it?”

“I suppose not, no.”

While they spoke, she continued to wrack her brain for a solution. She could try to fight him, but in these close quarters, she didn't have a chance. And again, she and the pilot would die. She wondered why she cared so much about the pilot. She didn't even know his name. He was just one of the thousands of ­people who worked for Umi. But maybe that was the point. It wasn't who he was but what he represented. If she was really going to succumb to Umi's bullying, she'd wait until they were in the air, then kill the pilot, in turn killing them all. That was her instinct talking again. But she was more than her instinct. She wasn't just a thoughtless animal, she had a mind and she could reason and think—­she could choose.

So she did.

“I do know what ‘Dead Lights' means. And I can even show them to you.”

“You . . .” For the first time, Per showed emotion. He was even at a loss for words.

“But the only way I'll do that is if you help me. I need to get to Umi Tenabe on the
Jirojin Maru
—­the ship where the conference is being held—­before . . . before 4:45
P.M.
,” Tatsu said, only partially lying. If she was right about Umi, Tatsu was going to need help getting to her. Help getting through the guards and getting past Mr. Corsair and Mr. Morgan. If they didn't get to the ship by 1:30
P.M.
, Umi wouldn't be there. But it was a way station they had to use to get to where Umi would be.

“Deal,” Per said. “Your friend told me about this Umi—­what he did for her and what happened. If true, it's a remarkable story. I'm looking forward to meeting her. And Mikawa, especially.”

Jesus, Nagura told him everything! Now she knew for a fact he was dead. There was no other way Per could know what he obviously knew.

“I don't think meeting Mikawa would be such a great idea,” Tatsu said, a quake and underlying warning in her voice. They were going to have to be in Mikawa's vicinity to get to Umi, that was unavoidable, but she didn't want to think about that right now. And she didn't like the way she was starting to think of that . . .
thing
. . . as Mikawa. That was only partly right. Mikawa—­the Mikawa she had known—­was dead. She'd prefer it if he stayed that way.

Per put the gun away, and, a few minutes later, the chopper lifted off and rose into the air. After swinging along the coast, it banked and headed out to sea. Tatsu looked at the afternoon sky in front of them, the dark, roiling clouds seemingly readying themselves for something tumultuous. Tatsu did the same.

 

Chapter Twenty-­three

Jirojin Maru

12:38
P.M.
Local Time

W
ITH
THE
TRAP
set, Maggie hunkered down in the shadows of the control room of Hold C and waited. Thanks to Tanaka's intel on the number of masks, she knew that all but a half dozen guards were destined to die with everyone else on the ship. After gathering the ship's staff in the dining room, she had injected them all and given them a final assignment.

At least
they
listen to me, Maggie thought.

She'd sent all but ten of them out to find the unlucky guards and tell them Mr. Morgan wanted to see them in Hold C for a final briefing before the speech. It was risky, but she didn't have a choice. The guards wouldn't have responded to the request if she used her own name. Even the two junior guards who did listen to her had disappeared though now she had a pretty good idea what had happened to them.

Hold C was more than just a hold. Months ago it had been redesigned with automatic locks, a surveillance system, and a control booth with a separate entrance. The control booth had a wall of glass allowing the occupants to observe what was happening in the hold. Maggie didn't know why it had been renovated, but it made the perfect stage for her deception. She checked her watch. Jonathan should be well into his injection rounds by now. She started to think about Jonathan—­and that kiss—­and was grateful her wonderings were interrupted as the first few guards started to show up.

“How are the injections going?” Maggie said quietly into her radio while she waited for the rest of the guards.

“Good,” Jonathan's voice said after a moment. “I've had a little resistance, but the flu story seems to be working on almost everyone.”

“Almost?”

“A ­couple of the scientists wanted a better explanation than I had. I handled it,” Jonathan said.

“Roger that,” Maggie said, smiling. She knew there were now a ­couple of scientists tied up and no doubt scared, but inoculated. “No problem with the guards?”

“Negative. There were a few at first I had to dodge, but they seem to have all left now. Whatever you're doing, it appears to be working.”

“Roger.”

“Just get here as soon as you can. I'm going to need some backup when I get to the upper decks.”

“I will. Out,” Maggie said, putting her radio away as the hold continued to fill. The guards were milling around each other and quietly talking. They seemed to be pretty much ignoring the small crate in the middle of the room.

Maggie scanned the crowd and saw that no one was carrying a mask. Even if her invitation had managed to reach a guard with a mask, she knew he'd be unlikely to bring it along, where the others could see it. She counted heads. Most of them were here. This would have to do. Time for the show. She reached up and threw the locking switch on the control panel. Magnets slammed the door shut and locked it. Everyone turned toward the clang, and the murmurs got much louder. She snapped on the lights and stood up in front of the control room's microphone.

“Please quiet down,” Maggie said. When the guards saw her, at least half of them rolled their eyes and whispered to each other, some of them laughing. She steeled herself. “Gentleman, please quiet down, I'm trying to save your lives.”

The murmuring eased, and the guards moved in closer to the window. Not all of them, but more than a few unsnapped the holster covers on their belts.

“Where's Morgan!”

“Why's the door locked!”

“I'm going to answer all your questions if you'll just quiet down and listen,” she said.

The room got deathly quiet.

“That's better,” Maggie said, reaching into her pocket and pulling out her ID. She held it up to the window. “Some of you have heard that I have an MI6 background, but what you don't know is that I am an active MI6 agent and was sent here to uncover the real reason behind this conference. With the CIA's help, I've done that. There's no time for all the details right now, so I'll cut to the chase. In less than an hour, poison gas is going to be released on this ship in an attempt to kill everyone on board.”

A few guards tried to make light of the statement and whisper to others, but were told to shut up. Even more of the guards had a kind of slow realization come across their faces, followed by fear.

“Some of you have been involved in a project placing canisters around the ship. You may or may not have known what they were for, but I can guarantee you that Mrs. Tenabe had no intention of letting anyone get off the ship before she released the toxin. You may have also noticed that some guards aren't here, including Mr. Morgan. That's by design. Anyone not here has been supplied a gas mask to survive the attack.”

“How do we know this is true?” a few shouted.

“Do you have any masks for us?” Even more shouted. Maggie relaxed a little. She was starting to get through to them.

“I don't have any masks for you—­” The crowd erupted into shouts before she could finish, and some began trying to open the door.

“Please! Calm down!” But the crowd was getting away from her.

Something thumped on the glass right beside her head and she flinched. For a second she thought someone had thrown something from the crowd, then she looked beside her and saw that Alex had entered the booth behind her and had slammed his own ID against the glass.

“Quiet down! NOW!” Alex shouted.

The crowd slowly responded, moving back in front of the window.

“That's better. Agent Reynolds is telling the truth. I'm with MI6 as well. If you want to live, listen to her.” Alex backed away and nodded for Maggie to continue with a wink. “All yours, darling.” Maggie was grateful but found it more than a little curious how fast the guards responded to Alex. She chalked it up to misogyny and continued.

“In the crate behind you is an injection gun. In it is an antitoxin that will protect you from the gas,” Maggie said, leaving out the part about them still being rendered unconscious for hours. A ­couple of the guards fought for the crate and ripped it open, one of them pulling out the injection gun.

“Bloody animals,” Alex muttered.

“You need to be careful! A double shot of the toxin will be just as deadly as the gas. Form a line and inject everyone in turn. Once I see that everyone is inoculated, I'll open the door.” To her relief, the guards slowly formed a line and began rolling up their sleeves, another guard acted as the nurse while everyone moved past him. Maggie switched the microphone off.

“Where the hell have you been?” Maggie asked Alex.

“Keeping tabs on Umi, like I said I would,” Alex said. “Are you really going to open the door once they're all injected?”

“No,” Maggie said.

“I think that's prudent, darling, but how do we get inoculated with the injection gun locked in there?”

“I've already been injected. There's another injection gun inoculating all the passengers right now. “

“All of them? But how did—­Ahh, that's why everyone was ordered to their rooms early. Tanaka?”

“He's with us,” Maggie said, leaving the booth. Alex followed. “Come on, I'll bring you up to speed on the way. Jonathan—­the CIA agent with the other injector—­needs our help on the upper decks.”

“And help him we shall,” Alex said.

12:50
P.M
.

J
ONATHAN
WAS
EXHAU
STED
. Not physically, but all the lying and conning and stress was taking its toll. He thought about Lew and wished he was here. Lew wasn't great at the finesse part of things, but you could guarantee if the passengers had seen him standing behind Jonathan, nobody would have said boo about getting a shot. But it was more than that; without Lew, Jonathan didn't have a sounding board, someone to bounce ideas off and someone to call him on his bullshit. He hadn't realized how dependent he had become on that until now.

Jonathan looked at his clipboard. Not counting the staterooms on the upper deck that he needed help with, he had just nine to go. He was about to knock on his next door when the radio on his hip beeped.

“Go,” Jonathan said.

“Guards are all tucked in,” Maggie said. “We're on our way to you now.”

“Roger that. Wait,
we're
on our way?”

“I'll explain when I get there,” Maggie said. “Say ten minutes.”

“Copy that. I'll try to be ready for the upper deck when you get here.”

“Copy. Out.”

Jonathan put his radio away and knocked on the next door. Maybe these last few will go fast, he thought. He felt otherwise when the door opened.

“Hello, stranger.” Melinda, the cougar from the arrival deck said, still sipping on an apparently endless supply of margaritas. “Did anyone order a bucket of yummy?” she said mockingly to her roommates, two other wide-­eyed drink-­sippers who seemed to be having trouble getting to the door. Jonathan was going to blame the endless drinks, but then he felt the ship list, himself.

“C'min c'min,” Melinda said, stepping out of the way. Jonathan stood his ground, afraid if he went in there he'd lose more than time.

Think, Hall, you don't have time for this.

He reached inside the messenger bag hanging from his shoulder and held up the injector gun. Their eyes got even wider, which seemed impossible.

“You guys want to party?”

After promising to return after the speech with a ­couple of buddies, Jonathan had injected the trio. He guaranteed them the trip of their lives from his home-­brewed psychedelic. They couldn't stick their arms out fast enough.

“Hurry back,” Melinda said, waggling her fingers at him as he backed down the hall.

“I will,” Jonathan said in the same singsongy way.

When the door finally closed, Jonathan shivered and marched toward the next door.

Maybe he was glad Lew wasn't here, after all, thinking of the ridicule he'd be getting lambasted with right now if he were.

Miraculously, Jonathan moved through the rest of the rooms on the deck in record time. As he came out into the hall from the final room, Maggie and a tall, well-­dressed black man came around the corner of the hall junction.

“Jonathan Hall, this is Alex Corsair, MI6. He's been helping me. Alex, this Jonathan Hall, CIA. He's . . . an old colleague.”

Jonathan shook Alex's hand. He had a strong handshake but a strange look in his eye. Almost like the situation was amusing him.

“Where are we?” Maggie asked Jonathan.

“That's the last down here. I've still got the two upstairs to do, but when I checked earlier, the hallway still had about a half dozen guards who didn't look like they were going anywhere anytime soon.”

“That's Morgan's inner circle,” Maggie said. “His most loyal guards. And the most experienced mercenaries on the staff. It makes sense they'd be posted up there. Those suites are for the dignitaries.”

“Dignitaries?” Jonathan asked.

“The big money, darling,” Alex said.

“Money and government officials who can approve grants,” Maggie said. “If Umi wanted to wipe out the gerontology research field, she'd pretty much just have to take them out.”

“Right. Cut off the supply line, and the scientists have nothing to work with,” Jonathan said.

Just then, three guards came around the corner, practically bumping into them. Jonathan started to reach for the gun in his waistband, but Maggie stopped him.

“Everyone back to their . . . oh, it's you,” the lead guard said.

“Just making some final preparations,” Maggie said. “You better get to your quarters before the speech starts.”

“Right. Let's go guys,” the guard said. The others were glaring at Jonathan pretty hard, but eventually they left.

“I suggest we hurry before we run into anyone else,” Alex said.

Something was bugging Jonathan. The guards seemed to listen to Maggie, but they had actively ignored Alex. The way they'd blatantly ignored him reminded Jonathan of when Natalie used to not look at him when she'd been caught doing something she shouldn't.

“Right,” Maggie said. “Ideas for getting past the guards upstairs?”

“Why don't you two head up this way, and I'll head up the stairs at the other end of the corridor,” Alex said. “I'll create a disturbance to attract their attention, and you can take care of our distinguished guests. Then we can figure a way off this ship.”

Jonathan and Maggie shared a glance, and he realized Alex wasn't fooling her. She was playing him for some reason.

“Sounds good,” Maggie said.

Jonathan and Maggie were in position up at the top of the stairs, waiting for Alex's diversion before he said anything.

“I don't trust that guy.”

Jonathan peeked around the corner down the hallway. Two guards were posted at each of the two doors. Even if they came out shooting, it was doubtful they could take out all four without their getting a shot off. And the guards had machine guns slung over their shoulders. This was bad.

“That's because you're smart,” Maggie said.

“Then what are we doing here?” Jonathan asked as Maggie looked at her watch.

“Just giving him enough rope,” she said.

1:10
P.M.

A
LEX
PEEKED
AROUND
the corner again to be sure he hadn't been followed. He had to get this message to Umi without being seen. Maggie might actually be able to get Alex off the ship if he helped her, but Alex had never been one to put all his eggs in one basket. If he could get back into Umi's good graces, she'd be able to get him off the ship as well. Granted, that would mean going down to that death trap on the bottom of the ocean, but one step at a time.