Wings in the Dark (20 page)

I didn't realize how hard it was to run in sand, but I didn't slow down. I reached Mrs. Sato's shop and skidded to a stop in the sand. Hearing footsteps behind me, I turned. Laura and Billy approached.

“You were supposed to wait.”

Laura stopped beside me, breathing easier than I was. “Not a chance.”

I raced to the window, cupping my hand to see inside. The room was dark and still.

Laura tried the door. “It's locked.”

Billy patted his pockets. “You still have my file?”

“I don't have time for files.” I kicked in the door, shattering the frame. Wood chips flew, and the door banged open.

“Holy cow!” Billy stumbled backward and began to wheeze.

I hurried inside, slipped behind the counter, and threw open the door to the back room. On the wall above the bed hung the framed picture of the Shinto temple. In the far corner stood a metal cabinet. I yanked the door open, but all it contained were clothes.

Laura scanned the room. “Billy, help us look for the rifle.”

“What rifle?” Billy's wheezing got worse and Laura handed him another stick of gum.

Sensing someone in the doorway, I spun and faced Tony Kalua, who was sucking in gulps of air.

“You.” He wiped sweat from his brow. “You…you broke down her door. You think
she
killed my old man?”

I ran a hand through my hair. Where were Mikayla's secrets? I peered beneath the bed. Bingo! I pulled out a four-foot-long trunk. It was locked. I slipped Billy's file from my wallet. I picked the lock in seconds and flipped open the lid.

Tony gasped. “The bicycle lady shot my old man?”

Inside were two handguns and a wireless radio. Any doubt about Mikayla's secret identity vanished. The contents of the trunk confirmed the woman—who seemed quiet, accommodating, and meek, even—was the Japanese spy, a brutal assassin who helped Japan conquer Manchuria and much of the east coast of China. It was all an act.

“How did I miss the signs?”

“Don't beat yourself up, darling.” Laura studied the trunk's contents. “She fooled a lot of people around the world.”

Billy whispered, “She was hiding in plain sight.”

Tony scratched his head. “What's going on?”

I picked up a Smith & Wesson .38. Fully loaded, as I suspected.

Laura gripped my arm. “Jake, she's gone after Amelia.”

“Who's Amelia?” Tony asked Billy.

“Amelia Earhart.”

Tony let out a long whistle. “Holy crap!”

“Mikayla hasn't been gone long. The pickup was there when we entered the surf shop.” I pointed to a phone in the corner. “Laura, call Putnam and tell him to get security to surround Amelia at the hotel.”

Billy shook his head. “Miss Earhart isn't at the Moana. She's at Wheeler Field with Mr. Stoddard and Mr. Gary and a half-dozen more security types.”

“She's spending the night at the hangar?”

“She always does the night before a big flight.”

Damn. Wheeler Field, out in the open, pursued by the world's most notorious assassin with a rifle. I had to go after her.

Laura's face hardened. “I'm going with you.”

I wasn't going to argue. Laura's friendship with Amelia had gotten us into this mess. She had every right to be there at the end.

Billy's earlier panic had vanished. “I'm going too.”

I slapped Tanaka's business card into Tony's hand. “Call the cops and ask for Detective Tanaka.”

“What do I say?”

“Tell him we learned Kitsune is a woman named Mikayla Sato. Tell him to meet us at Wheeler Field. You got that?”

Tony nodded. “Kitsune…Mikayla…Wheeler Field. I guess.”

I grabbed Tony by the shirt. “She killed your father.”

Tony blew out a puff of air. “Okay, I'll do this.” He began to dial.

“Let's go.” Laura and I dashed through the shattered doorway, and ran outside to the Oldsmobile.

Billy followed. “Wait for me.”

I slipped behind the wheel and set the gun at my side. As Laura sat beside me, I lowered my head and felt beneath the dash.

Billy climbed in the back and peered over the front seat. “You know how to hotwire a car?”

“I grew up in Queens. Of course I do, but it's been a few years.”

Laura reached behind the visor and handed me the keys. “What would you do without me, darling?”

“Thanks.” I sat up, stuffed Mikayla's .38 in the glove compartment, then inserted the key.

“Don't flood it,” Billy cautioned.

I took a deep breath, pumped the gas pedal, and turned the key. The car started. I mashed down on the pedal, kicking up sand as we raced to catch the assassin.

I kept the pedal to the floor as the late afternoon sun dipped below the horizon. I swerved around honking cars and irate drivers and ran a couple of red lights. While Laura and Billy braced themselves, I struggled to remain calm. I'd been in plenty of car chases, mostly being chased.

As we passed a sign that said it was five miles to Wheeler Field without having seen the gray pickup, I grew worried. Mikayla didn't have to make it inside the gate, not with her rifle. Where was she?

I'd known plenty of hard-hitting women in my life. Why hadn't I considered Kitsune could be a woman?

Laura was one of the toughest and shrewdest people I knew. If she hadn't been, she wouldn't have survived her old man's beatings or made it on Broadway. Amelia Earhart proved women were equals in a field dominated by men.

The French executed Mata Hari for spying for the Germans in the Great War. Now we had to stop another notorious assassin, Mikayla Sato, or whatever her real name was.

I took a curve, and a slow-moving car caused me to tap the brakes. I pulled into the oncoming lane to pass.

Laura and Billy shouted warnings as a sports car blasted its horn and kept coming.

I swerved back into the lane behind the slow car, gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles. The driver got the hint and pulled over enough to let me by.

We rounded a corner and the wheels skidded. In the distance, the top of an aircraft hangar appeared. The front gate was about a mile away.

Laura pressed her feet to the floor and held on to the door handle. “Maybe Tanaka got there already and stopped her.”

“I shouldn't have counted on Tony to relay the information. I should've left Billy.”

Laura nodded. “I'm thinking the same thing.”

In the backseat, Billy covered his mouth. “I think I'm going to be sick.”

“No, you're not! I need your help.”

I pulled to a stop and kept the engine running. An experienced assassin would hardly drive through the front gate. She'd enter somewhere along the perimeter with little chance of being discovered.

A service road, a path really, circled the fenced airport. With a fifty-fifty chance of being right, I turned left. I circled away from the entrance for a half mile and almost gave up hope.

“There!” Laura shouted.

Ahead was a pickup parked off the service road. The truck sat alongside the chain-link fence within sight of the hangar, where lights illuminated Amelia's plane. A figure was crouched behind the pickup, clipping an opening in the fence with wire cutters.

We weren't too late. “Wait here.”

I shut off the engine.

Mikayla opened the passenger door. She stood behind it and aimed the rifle at us through the window.

“Get down!”

I ducked as our front windshield shattered, raining bits of glass over the inside of the car.

Laura brushed shards of glass off her. The only damage appeared to be a trickle of blood at the top of her forehead. In the rearview mirror Billy looked sick, but he hadn't been hurt either.

I started the car and mashed down on the accelerator pedal. I drove the car off the road, bouncing through a drainage ditch, kicking up a cloud of dust. “Brace yourselves.”

Another shot shattered the outside mirror on my side. Through the haze, I sped straight toward Mikayla.

Laura grabbed my arm. “Jake, you're not going to…”

As I continued to accelerate, Mikayla dove into the pickup.

We slammed into the rear of the truck with a sickening metal-on-metal groan. My head banged against the side window as the Olds spun at least twice and came to rest against the fence.

I checked Laura and Billy. They were shaken and dazed but uninjured. “Stay here!”

I grabbed the gun from the glove compartment. I climbed out, aiming the gun at the pickup that lay on its side next to a ditch that ran between the road and the fence. Its front wheels were spinning and the radiator spit steam, filling the area with the bitter stench of burnt rubber. As I drew closer, the unmistakable odor of gasoline took over.

At the front of the pickup, I swallowed hard and peered inside. The seat was empty. Mikayla had been thrown from the wreckage, or she'd slipped away. Damn!

With the gun pointing toward the pickup, I circled the front of the mangled wreck, dodging hot steam from the spitting radiator. With the fading light providing little help, I took careful steps toward the back of the pickup. From the corner of my eye came a flash of movement.

Mikayla lunged from behind the truck. Before I could squeeze off a shot, she whipped her leg against the back of my knees.

I landed on my back, and the .38 flew from my hand. I scrambled to my feet and ducked a second kick.

I caught a glimpse of the gun on the ground, wedged against the rear tire. As I stepped toward it, Mikayla landed a stiff-arm blow to the side of my neck.

Dressed in a black shirt and matching trousers, Mikayla assumed a judo stance, bent at the waist, her hands moving slowly.

Stunned by her brutal skill, I raised my fist and circled to my left like my old man taught me years earlier. My quick glance toward the hangar revealed that several people were running toward us, silhouetted by the hangar lights.

I'd never hit a woman before, but I was up against an assassin. I would not let her gender keep me from defending myself or taking her alive. “It's over, Mikayla, or whatever your name really is.”

“You can call me Kitsune.” Mikayla charged and grabbed for my left arm.

Using a move Braddock had used against John Henry Lewis, I sidestepped the woman and swung an elbow to the back of her head.

Mikayla collided with one front tire of the pickup. She rubbed the back of her head. “Oh, so you will hit a woman. I didn't think you had the guts Blackie Doyle has.”

I continued to move toward the rear of the pickup, keeping myself away from Mikayla. I waited for an opportunity to snatch the gun and capture her alive, or, as Colonel Patton suggested, pull the trigger and put an end to her career. “Amelia Earhart's taking off tomorrow and you didn't stop her.”

“Blackie Doyle might have been a match for me, but you're just a pathetic mystery writer.” Shouting in Japanese, Mikayla charged again.

I took a swing; she slipped the punch, grabbed my arm, and bent my wrist back. I was surprised by the woman's power, but her real strength was her quickness and ability to use my size against me.

She smiled wickedly as she tried to break my arm.

I head-butted her. Her forehead split open, and I managed to yank free.

Blood dripped down her face, but Mikayla sent a kick that grazed my chin. I slammed against the rear of the pickup. My right trouser leg was wet. A whiff of gasoline reached me.

“She's going to go for your arms, Jake.” Billy slid to a stop at the front of the pickup. “Keep your distance.”

I didn't need a kid who'd taken judo in college to tell me that. But keeping my distance, I moved away from her and the gun I felt certain Mikayla hadn't seen.

I glanced over her shoulder. Whoever was running from the hangar was halfway to us, but I couldn't wait for help. When Mikayla lunged toward me, I snapped off a punch to her jaw that staggered her for a moment. The punch bought me enough time to circle away from her. I stumbled into the shallow ditch but stayed upright. “I told you to wait in the Olds, Billy.”

I hoped Laura had stayed in the car.

Mikayla lunged for my lead arm, but I stopped her with a straight jab and felt the satisfaction of her cartilage breaking. Her shattered nose sent more blood down her face. A right cross, my “Sunday punch,” knocked her to her knees against the pickup.

The woman was one of the toughest people I'd ever encountered. She was nearly finished, but she was still between me and the gun.

I shouted. “Get up.”

“You think you won, Donovan?” Blood continued to flow from Mikayla's nose, and she sputtered. “America stopping Japan…would be like an umbrella holding back an ocean wave.”

Laura appeared at Billy's shoulder, aiming her small gun at Mikayla. Her voice shook with rage. “Get down on the ground, you crazy bitch.”

Mikayla laughed. “You going to shoot me, Miss skinny Hollywood actress?”

I didn't think the gun could do much damage from a distance, but Laura squeezed off a shot and hit Mikayla's hand.

The woman screamed and dropped to the ground near the rear tire. With a shriek of laughter, she lunged for the .38.

I kicked the handgun away and the Smith & Wesson slid into the ditch.

Her face covered in blood, Mikayla somehow made it to her feet, swaying on unsteady legs.

Tanaka crawled through the cut fence. He drew his gun and stopped beside Laura and Billy. “Mikayla Sato, you're under arrest.”

Stoddard and Reggie pushed through the fence and approached us with guns drawn.

Mikayla bent over, sucking in gulps of air. She held up a bloodied hand. “Okay, you win.”

As I stepped toward her, a smile broke out on her face. She reached into a trouser pocket with her uninjured hand. She pulled out a cigarette lighter and snapped open the lid. “Aloha, Mr. Donovan.”

“Get back!” I sprinted away from the pickup and dove for the ditch. Behind me, there was a blinding explosion. Heat and flames slammed me to the ground.

I rolled onto my back, catching a glimpse of the pickup and Mikayla engulfed in a ball of fire. She stayed upright for a moment before falling forward and disappearing in the flames.

As I tried to crawl away from the heat, I realized one trouser leg was on fire and a stabbing pain spread along my ankle.

Someone smacked my head several times. It was Laura. “Your hair was on fire.”

Reggie pulled off his suit coat and smothered the flame on my legs. “Can you move?”

“Help me up.”

With sirens approaching, I held out my arm. Stoddard and Laura helped me to my feet. My ankle throbbed with a knifelike pain where the flames had burned through my trousers, but I managed to limp away with Laura's help. “Is Amelia safe?”

“I am.” Amelia crawled through the opening in the fence. “Jake Donovan, don't ever lecture me about taking risks.”

“Deal.”

We reached two patrol cars and an ambulance parked on the service road.

I managed a smile for Stoddard and Reggie. “I'm glad the cavalry finally arrived.”

The Brit chuckled. “Cavalry, oh, good one.”

“Over here.” Stoddard signaled to a man in a white coat climbing from the ambulance. “You're hurt, Jake. So are you, Laura.”

The light from the ambulance headlights revealed burns on both of Laura's palms. “Your right hand looks bad, sweetheart.”

Reggie inspected Laura's palm and pressed a clean handkerchief against her wound. “I always wanted to hold your wife's hand.”

Heat and the stench of burnt flesh drifted from the fiery wreckage. “I wish I'd been able to take her alive. Imagine the secrets that died with her.”

“You stopped her, darling.” Laura wrapped her arm around me and smiled at the famous aviatrix. “And Amelia is safe to take off tomorrow.”

“Laura's right,” Stoddard said. “One secret didn't die with Kitsune. Thanks to you, we now know how far Japan will go to spread her empire.”