Chapter 1
Kamei
I moved here recently to guarantee the stability and efficiency of our shipping partnerships in this region. Our control of the new patch provides access to the local rail and shipping docks. The recent takeover of this zone has displaced a small, inept gang. Though not overly threatening, it caused minor disruptions to us. It is in a slightly rundown area of the city outskirts, and an area the Italian mafia boss isn’t interested in. We stay out of his way, and he stays out of ours.
“Boss, we found out who he is.” Takai hands over a phone. An image of a guy is on the screen. “He is a government agent. I’ve got guys turning his place over right now.” He says.
“If that file gets leaked to their government, they will know all our movements.” I’m still trying to work out how he got access to our information. “Find him, and find the file.”
This is the last thing I need right now.
With a sense of foreboding, I go to the house to sift through the security camera footage. We need to find out who could access our computers and transfer information onto an external USB drive to sell. I have several men in my close circle, and I’d hate it to be any of them.
Azuma meets me in the hallway. He dips his head before greeting me. “Boss, the new shipment of drugs is coming in tonight. Do you want to keep it on schedule?”
He makes me stop and think. “We move it as soon as it comes in. Change the location of where we are taking it, though. If any information has been leaked, they will bide their time until we have the goods in our hands.”
He dips his head. “Yes, boss.” Then he walks away.
I navigate my way towards the room where we have our surveillance system installed. Haruto steps aside. The weight of suspicion hangs heavy in the air. Everyone knows there is a traitor lurking amongst us, and I will not be kind when I find out who it is.
“Boss, I have examined the house’s security footage, and it appears the hijack was external; there are no signs of an internal compromise.” Haruto tells me all that he has done to look through footage of everyone’s coming and goings. “It could stem back weeks, even months, since we have been here.”
“I want you to keep an eye on anyone who seems suspicious and inform me of any unusual movements.” I point to the cameras which feed back all our drop sites and loading locations.
As I leave the room, I pull out my phone. “Azuma, send me the address of this agent, and send me all the information you have on him.” I hang up, not waiting for an answer, and I head through to the lounge.
The two sliding doors, paired with floor-to-ceiling reinforced glass windows, create a modern aesthetic. I enjoy standing and looking out at the breathtaking views the garden boasts. High walls form a perimeter around the vast garden, their imposing presence creating a sense of privacy and security.
The sky is a pale, washed-out blue today, almost hazy. It will not be long before the sun starts to set and the sky changes colors. This is the best part of my day.
I take a crystal glass and pour some Umeshu to sip. It has become a favourite of mine in preference to whiskey. As I stand at the open doors looking out at the garden, my mind wanders back to my father’s last words. “Trust no one, even those closest to you. Love no one, as someone will always find them as your weakness.” But how can I have a family if I don’t love the woman who is supposed to be by my side? It’s one reason I’ve been hesitant to pursue a relationship with a woman. Though many women have graced my presence, none has truly captured my attention or affections.
“Boss,” Azuma comes striding into the room. He hands me a tablet and I look at what is on the screen. “Jerome Everhart. Everything about him on paper suggests that he works for a security team, but when we looked deeper.” He raises an eyebrow. “The CIA government subcontracts them. He has a daughter. We can use her as leverage?”
“This wasn’t in the original information shown to me earlier?” I place my glass down and flick through the information.
“I’ve just found this out. Because his name in the government is different, I presume to protect him and his family.”
I slide my finger across the screen and bring up her picture. “This is his daughter?” She intrigues me. “Find her and bring her to me. Where is the mother?”
“The mother died a few years ago, from a mugging where they stabbed her. She later died in the hospital following it.”
If he’s been using an alias for a government job, the attack was most probably a veiled threat. What was the extent of Jerome’s involvement with the CIA?
He walks off, leaving me alone with my thoughts as I pick up my glass and take a slow sip of the sweet liquid. My eyes drift from the garden to her picture on the tablet. The idea of her at my side brings a rush of warmth, a vision of a future that feels impossible yet sweetly desirable. But it is not possible. She is the daughter of the man who has vital information on us, and I’m going to bring them both down.
Leilani
I am finishing late tonight. Research on the Denver group has taken a turn. “Is that me finished?” I ask as I pack away the few files I had out and working on.
“Yes, thanks for staying late.” My boss, Stewart, sits back in his chair and groans.
“No worries. I’ll see you after the weekend.” One good thing about my job is it is weekdays only that I work. Stewart loves to go fishing at weekends, so he is against anyone else working.
I pick up my phone and turn off the silent mode. Incoming missed calls and messages hit me all at once. I threw my bag onto the passenger seat as I slid into the driver’s seat. Before I set off, I listen to the missed calls.
“Don’t go home. Find somewhere else to stay.” It is dad’s voice. “I’ll contact you when I can.”
The messages relay the same thing. Panic fills me and I call him, but his phone is off, or unreachable. “What the hell?” I need to find out what is going on.
My hands tremble as I put the car into drive and make my way home. I have nothing on me, so I can’t just go somewhere. I have no friends because I can’t trust anyone to get close to me. Two backstabbing girlfriends and a cheating bastard of a boyfriend did an awesome job of putting me off knowing people. At 25 years old, though, I should start trying to meet people in a social environment. But being an introvert, I’d happily lose myself in the pages of a book. I also need the quiet time to shut my brain off from the normal world and what I process.
I pull up outside and don’t see anyone. My heart races as I walk towards the front door, and even more so when I find it unlocked. Is dad home? Our home is a single-story house on a quiet street and has a charming front porch. The garden was mom’s pride, and after she died, I tried to keep it looking nice, but I didn’t have green fingers like she did.
I push the door open and my heart sinks. Someone has ransacked the place. I stare at the living room. Drawers hang open, their contents—papers, and odds and ends—spilled across the floor in a chaotic jumble. The TV sits on the wall, so I know this isn’t a burglary.
Is dad okay? Why has someone done this? I make my way to my room and they have gone through everything here as well. Tears well up, and I sit down on my askew, torn mattress. They have wrecked everything.
My clothes are a mess on the floor, and my underwear scattered. There is a lingering smell of whoever has been in here. I feel violated. My bedside drawer hangs open and I blush at the contents. They had opened the box lid and exposed my vibrators and personal things I like to use to get myself off with. It doesn’t look like they have touched them, though.
With my heart racing and a sickening feeling sitting in my stomach, I pick up a bag and start grabbing some of my things, stuffing them in the bag. I take my box of “goodies” and put them in the bag as well. I have a cash box hidden in my wardrobe, but it looks like they have emptied that as well.
“Bastards,” I mutter under my breath. I am physically shaking now. “If I get my hands on whoever has done this.” I zip the bag up with the anger I have building up inside of me.
A noise from outside startles me. I freeze, every muscle tense, tilting my head to discern if the faint creak comes from the front door. My heart pounds in my chest, and I can hear my own heart beating frantically. I swallow, my mouth now suddenly dry. “Get it together. This could be your life on the line here.” I scold myself mentally.
With a careful hand, I set the bag down on the mattress, the slight crinkle of the fabric the only sound before I creep towards my bedroom door. It is still ajar, so when I peep out, I don’t make any noise.
“Why are we back here?” A low grumble comes from the already upturned living room.
“Boss wants to scout the place out again.” Another voice grumbles back.
Then they talk openly, but in Japanese. Who are these people? When one walks past the hallway, I gasp and dive back into my bedroom. Mafia? Oh god, what has dad got himself involved in? I knew there were mafia mobs in the city, but I thought they were part of the Italian mafia. These people are most definitely not Italian.
Trembling, I look around my room. The window is closed and will make noise if I open it. Footsteps coming down the hall mean I don’t have time to run. Tears roll down my cheeks and I can only hide inside my closet, and hope that they don’t find me.
Trembling violently, a wave of icy dread washing over me, the sound of the hinges groaning a mournful protest as the bedroom door swings open fully. Next, the hushed tones of two voices, speaking rapidly in Japanese, fill the room as they look inside.
Don’t breathe.
“Nothing,” one guy says in English. I think I’m about to pee my pants until he says this. He is standing right outside where I am hiding.
Then they talk in Japanese again. I hear the familiar hiss of the zipper as they unzip the bag on the bed.
Oh shit!
The cupboard door bursts open, revealing a towering Japanese man in a sharp suit, his hands and neck covered in intricate tattoos. A slow smirk stretches his lips, eyes crinkling at the corners.
“Found you.”
