Sentinel Five (The Redaction Chronicles Book 2) (21 page)

TOKYO – MARCH 1968

Jack Grant had been in Tokyo for less than a day.

He'd been collected from the airport by a chauffeur and driven to the exclusive Hilton Hotel, where a suite had been booked for him. Once he'd checked in and inspected the room, he immediately went out onto the street and found a taxi. With a smattering of Japanese from a phrasebook he'd bought, he managed, in mangled Japanese, to ask the taxi driver to take him to another hotel. He would use the Hilton to check in for messages from Hokku's people, and the alternate hotel as his base to sleep and connect to Penn safely.

The new hotel belonged to a western chain, the Osaka. It was pleasant enough, serviceable, and not ostentatious. It catered for the ever-increasing western business market. Grant thought he would blend in perfectly here, among the senior executives from Germany, Brussels and Australia. His first task was to make phone contact with Penn and let him know he was in country and still in play. He called the Hong Kong contact number in his head, remembered from all those months ago. He heard the click from the other end of the line.

“2308. Hotel Osaka. Still active. I'm clear,” said Grant.

He heard Penn murmur back, “Phone back in one hour.” Then he heard the phone set back in its cradle.

So he walked, exploring the city streets. He mostly stuck to the shadows and the darkness, not wanting to attract unnecessary attention. To the average Japanese, he was sure that with his beard, his rolling swagger and his glare he would the very epitome of a European, a Gorilla, an animal, a brute, a killer – memorable. He also knew that despite its outwardly friendly atmosphere, there was a good chance that within the next few days, Tokyo could turn into a very dangerous place for him, hunted by both the police and the Raven's people. He didn't want to attract anyone's interest.

An hour later, he returned to the Osaka and used the booth in the hotel lobby to call the contact number. Penn must have been waiting, hovering over the telephone, because he picked up on the first ring. “How's the weather,” asked Penn.

“Bloody cold. Thought this was meant to be Asia?” growled Grant.

“There seems to be a winter storm heading your way, old boy, at least according to the weather reports,” said Penn.

“You don't say,” said Grant, aware of the double meaning. “We have any more intelligence about this pagoda?”

“Only that it's in the middle of the countryside, isolated and protected. Downside is that you may have a bit of a fight, a few guards to deal with.”

“And the upside?”

“They aren't expecting you, so you can hit them while they're at their weakest and because of its isolated location, you can cause as much havoc as you like without attracting too much attention,” said Penn.

I wish it was that simple,
thought Grant. “How's the team, they ready?”

“They're fine Jack, everything is in place. They're in country. They know what they have to do and they'll be close behind you all the way. Just be ready for them to scoop you up. They won't be far away.”

“Good,” said Grant. “The Raven's people haven't been in touch yet, probably keeping me warm ready for the big man's visitation. As soon as I know, you'll know. Okay?”

“Understood. Oh, and by the way, expect a visit from one of our representatives tonight. We'll get someone to make contact with you at the Osaka, just to brief you on any last minute details,” finished Penn, before ending the call.

So Grant had returned to his hotel and waited. He was expecting… someone. From the moment he'd switched hotels and given his new location to his contact number, he knew the promised contact would happen soon. His ghost family were forever watching from the side-lines.

He was unpacking when there was a knock on the door and a voice called “Room Service”. He hadn't expected it to be her. Although, on thinking about it, she was perfect for the role of a room service maid: she spoke fluent English, and was just as western in culture as she was Asian. She blended into a western hotel perfectly.

“Your order,” she announced. Miko was dressed in the standard uniform for hotel staff – blouse, short skirt, flat shoes, and name badge – and she was pushing a food trolley. The perfect cover. No one looks twice at a waitress doing a room service run.

He let her enter the room and then closed the door behind her. She turned to him and smiled, all the while removing a slim file from beneath the silver cloche on the trolley before handing it to him. From under the linen cloth covering the trolley, she removed a small bag. It held several pieces of equipment that Penn thought his agent might need.

“That's everything we have on where we think they'll take you,” said Miko.

Grant opened it up and flicked through the contents; maps, routes in and routes out, a weapons lists for the rest of the team as well as an operational plan on how the attack would happen and in what order. He skimmed through it all. It sounded feasible on an initial glance; he would study it later when the girl was gone. Then he would burn it, inside the hotel bathroom.

“How is everyone?” he asked.

She nodded. “They are ready, I think. Men… they are always so impatient to start causing death and destruction.”

“And you?”

She smiled sadly. “I am ready too. The hardest part has been the waiting.”

Grant nodded. He understood that, too well. It was always the hardest part… the waiting for that call to action. The fear, the doubts, the paranoia. Just hard.

“Was it hard for you, Mr. Grant?” asked Miko. “Being out of reach for so long?”

He placed the briefing file on the bed next to him and sat down. He rubbed his hands through his beard and over his hair, as if he was trying to scrape away the stress of the past few months living inside an enemy camp. “It was difficult, but not impossible.”

“But was it worth it?”

He shrugged. “We'll soon see, won't we Miss Arato?” he said, looking up at her in her uniform, her disguise. He thought she resembled a doll – so tiny and fragile. Their eyes locked for a moment – not long – but long enough for both of them to sense something between them. She took a step towards him and gently caressed his face.

“Thank you for all of this, Mr. Grant,” she said and then quickly turned, collected the hostess trolley and left the room without saying another word.

* * *

An hour later he was in bed, his mind turning over the information in the intelligence file Miko had delivered to him. The location, the history, the expected number of targets. But it was the girl who held court over his mind the most. The complexity and contrast of her. A beautiful, fragile woman who was willing to give up her life, liberty and freedom to walk into hell with a bunch of trained killers on a possible suicide mission. And all to avenge the man she'd barely known as a father. Most of the women he knew would have simply thrown a wreath on the grave and moved on with their lives. But this young woman, well, she was something unique.

He was on the point of drifting off to sleep when he heard the click of the door as it was eased open in the darkness. A hotel pass key, he guessed. Instantly he was alert, old habits and old training die hard. Grant raised himself up on one elbow and with his other hand, he reached for the straight razor he kept beneath the pillow. He was naked beneath the sheets; the heat inside the hotel had forced him to sleep that way.

“You won't need the razor,” said Miko.

He said nothing and watched as she quietly entered the room and closed the door behind her. The ambient light from the street cast a neon sheen of blue over her. She stepped to the side and out of its haze, blending into the blackness of the room. He heard the shuffling of material as she quickly removed her clothes and then the sheets on the bed were pulled back and her lithe body was resting against his.

“Did you forget something?” he asked, trying to located her eyes in the darkness.

For an answer she placed one slender finger on his lips to silence him and then she rolled her body over his torso so that she was straddling him. She was in control, and despite his inbred reluctance to relinquish physical power, he willingly submitted. Her hands splayed across his chest as she leaned forward, her hair dropping downwards as their lips met. The kiss was tender, soft and both embraced it fully. He worked his hands up to her breasts and his fingers found her nipples; she moaned as they hardened beneath his thumbs. She reached down between her thighs to discover him as hard as stone and gently guided him into her wetness. She trembled at first, eager to take all of him into her and then slowly, she relaxed. She rode him gently, her hips moving forwards and back in a fluid motion, bringing him on. Grant held her up with his strong arms, thrusting himself upwards into her again and again, watching as her back arched in pleasure, her breasts thrust outwards. The intensity increased, their eyes locked, and they moved together as one until they both climaxed, both crying out in pleasure. Miko bent her head down, her black hair falling onto his chest, tears falling from her eyes.

They lay silent in the darkness, listening to the noise of Tokyo's nightlife outside, each unsure what to talk about or how to say it. For both of them, the love making had been nothing but a physical release, a salve to ease the stress and tension before tomorrow began. It was the coupling of two people who might die tomorrow. Finally, Grant broke the silence. “Are you sure you want to go through with this? The hit, the killing tomorrow?” he asked in a low voice.

Miko lay silent for a while longer, as if he'd managed to read her thoughts and she was considering her options. Would she back out at the last minute? Everybody said that it would be fine, but really, they meant the opposite. You could never back out, never walk away, never quit the mission. She propped herself up on one elbow and looked down at him. She gently caressed his face. “I have an obligation; my concerns do not matter. I have the chance to avenge my father and I have to protect my team,” she said simply. “I have made a choice and there can be no turning back now.”

He understood; he'd been there himself, many times, had forced himself to see through operations that lesser men would quake at. It wasn't for everyone, it changed people, sometimes for the worse, sometimes for the better, but it changed them nevertheless. “So what was all this,” he asked, indicating the bed where they'd made love moments before. “Condemned man's last request?”

She smiled. “It might be the last time for both of us. There is no one else who would understand here, tonight, in this situation.”

He nodded and turned over to face her. He ran his hand gently down the curve of her breast. As if sensing his conflict, she spoke. “Can I tell you a story, a story about my father?”

“Talk, if it will help.”

She smiled at him, and quickly kissed him one final time. “The first time I met my father, was when I was just a child. My mother and I travelled to Singapore to meet him. My mother only said that we were going to meet an old friend of hers; I had no idea we would be meeting a man, let alone my father. Up until that point, the idea of a father had never even occurred to me. Family had consisted of my mother, my uncle Hiro and a few distant cousins. A father had never been mentioned. When we arrived at the hotel where he was staying, my mother and I were greeted at the door by a handsome man wearing a beautiful cream suit. I thought he looked like a movie star from a Hollywood film. He was tall and slim, tanned for a westerner and very handsome. We sat and had afternoon tea together, the three of us. I could tell that my mother loved him and he was a perfect gentleman, had impeccable manners. We talked until late into the evening about everything… he asked me about my home, my life, what I wanted to do when I grew up. I told him I wanted to be a ballet dancer. He smiled and said that I would make a wonderful dancer. The next day, we met him again and he took us shopping. He bought me a beautiful dress, one that I still have somewhere, packed away with my other childhood memories.”

Grant smiled to himself. He'd never met the old C personally, only seen him in passing, but he knew the man had been a ruthless intelligence officer back in his day. So this new angle on the old spymaster had taken him by surprise. “Did you ever meet him again?”

She smiled. “Of course! Many times over the years. My father and I had a wonderful relationship, he guided me, protected me and gave me many opportunities in my career. But most of all he gave me love, a love that had been missing when I was younger. He made amends for not being there.”

“And then the Raven happened,” said Grant.

“Then the Raven took him from me… that is something I will not forget. My father lived that dangerous type of life, as you do, but to die old and defenceless and in that manner… that I cannot forgive,” she said bitterly.

“So, we go all the way, Miko?”

“Yes Jack – me, you, those boys, we go all the way to the end and we finish this. We are
Ronin.
” She saw his confusion. “You are not familiar with the term?”

He shook his head. “No.”

She ran one delicate hand down the side of his face and nestled her head against his shoulder. “
Ronin
were a group of masterless Samurai in feudal Japan. They were mercenaries who would work on contract, or for the highest bidder. But occasionally, even
Ronin
can come together for a greater cause.”

“A greater cause! Well, we have that alright,” said Grant.

“We have revenge, which is certainly an important factor for what we're about to do. But we also have a duty as human beings, to stop the possible genocide this madman wants to inflict upon the world in the name of greed and the lust for power.”

Jack thought back to the footage of the boy mauling the goat in the lab and shuddered. The image chilled him to the bone.

Miko carried on. “At times, the
Ronin
knew they may not survive in battle, quite often they were simply outnumbered. Even though they were no longer of the Samurai class, their greatest hope was that they would experience a warrior's death in combat. I think for us tomorrow; we should expect the same. To destroy evil, even if it means that we die a lonely death and the rest of the world will carry on as if nothing had happened, unaware of our sacrifice. That is a good thing.”