It took Jack almost forty minutes before he rolled up on the search in progress and saw both the Houston PD and the FBI were on the scene. When he realized it was an abandoned hotel, the scope of the search just got bigger. He parked in front of one of the Bureau’s SUVs and flashed his badge at a couple of officers standing guard at the entrance.
“Who’s in charge?” he asked.
“You guys are,” the officer said. “Special Agent Warren is in the lobby.”
“Thanks,” Jack said, and saw Nolan Warren almost immediately.
Nolan looked up, saw the stranger coming toward him and frowned.
“You’re not allowed to—”
“Nolan, it’s me, Jack.”
Nolan did a double take. “Whoa! I did not see you in that face.”
“That is the idea,” Jack said. “What do you know? How many floors in this building?”
“Fifteen floors, six hundred and twenty-five rooms. They’re less than halfway done.”
“I want to help. Where can I start?”
“Feds started at the top and are working their way down. PD began at the bottom and are working their way up. We’re on the twelfth floor. I’ll radio them to let you know—”
Before he finished what he was saying, one of the search teams suddenly checked in.
“Search to Command Post. Come in!”
“This is Command. Go ahead.”
“We found a woman on eight. She’s too old and she’s homeless, so she’s not your missing woman, but she’s ambulatory and we’re coming down.”
“Ten-four. Command out,” Nolan said, and then looked at Jack. “Dammit. I’m sorry. I was so hoping this—”
Jack was too disappointed to comment. He just turned around and walked out of the building, got back on the Indian and took off for the next address on the list. He kept telling himself it didn’t mean she was gone. It just meant she was somewhere else.
And so the morning went. Jack rode from property to property, marking them off after he’d searched, and moving to the next, and the shorter the list became, the more desperate he felt.
Noon came and went, and the heat continued to rise. He kept bottles of water in his pack, and around 3:00 p.m., he finally stopped long enough to get something to eat.
The food was tasteless and every bite stuck in his throat. He finally gave up, threw the rest of it away and got back on the Indian. He put on the helmet and fired up the engine.
Fear rode behind him.
Panic sat on his shoulders.
But quitting wasn’t an option.
“Don’t give up on me, baby. I haven’t given up on you.”
* * *
Adam came back to the old warehouse with food at straight-up noon. Yuki heard the car circling the building and grimaced. Just like his brother to leave him guessing. He got here on time, but not a moment early.
He glanced at the woman as he stood up. The hotter it got, the weaker she had become. Despite the water he had poured down her throat and on her, she’d passed out almost two hours ago and he hadn’t been able to rouse her since. He was afraid for her. Adam would kill her if she didn’t tell him what he wanted to know, or she would die anyway before he got the chance. He watched the car coming into the warehouse and Adam getting out to shut the door behind him.
When Adam realized Yuki was watching him, he stopped in midstep and stared back, expecting Yuki to be the one to look away first. But he didn’t move.
Adam got back in the car, aimed the car right at the office and stomped the accelerator. The SUV fishtailed, leaving rubber on the concrete floor as he raced toward them.
Yuki’s heart began to pound. What was this crazy man trying to do—kill them? What would he gain if they were dead? He wanted to run, but something told him that showing fear was exactly what Adam wanted to see, and so he stood in the doorway with his hands in his pockets, calmly watching the event unfold.
Adam was aimed straight at his brother and expecting him to panic, to run, or at the least get out of the way. But he didn’t, and Adam was forced to turn away at the very last moments, which sent his car into a spin. He hit the brakes, leaving dark stripes on the concrete floor and the scent of burning rubber in the air.
When the car finally quit spinning, Adam got out with a sack of burgers and cold beers and stomped toward the office. It took everything he had not to throw the food at Yuki.
“Why didn’t you move?” Adam shouted.
Yuki made himself look surprised. “What? Move? You mean you were actually going to run me over?”
Adam sighed. He’d asked that wrong, and now anything he said would make him the stupid one.
“I brought burgers and beer—the dark ales that you like.”
Yuki smiled. “Thank you, brother! That was very thoughtful of you.”
Adam handed him the sack and two bottles of beer. “The woman...has she said anything more?”
Yuki shook his head. “I kept giving her water, even pouring it on her, too, but she’s really out of it and hasn’t regained consciousness in over two hours. Look at her. As hot as it is and she’s barely sweating. I think she’s dying, Adam.”
Adam ran toward her, grabbed her by the shoulders and started shaking her, then slapped her face on one side, and then on the other, but there was no response. He glanced down at the rat bites on her legs. They were red and looked like they were getting infected. Her eyes were swollen shut and her lips were twice the normal size and glued shut with dry blood. Even the cut down the middle of her chest had caked. Yuki was right. She looked bad.
“This pisses me off,” he muttered.
“You beat her,” Yuki said. “What did you expect?”
The hair rose on the back of Adam’s neck as he turned and stared at his brother. Yuki had grease from one of the burgers running down the side of his mouth, and a splotch of mayo and tomato had fallen onto his sweat-stained undershirt. The gun Yuki had taken without his knowledge was lying on the window ledge, and he could see the package of toilet paper had been opened. He didn’t want to know where he’d taken a dump, but guessed he had.
He didn’t understand this man. At all. And he damn sure didn’t like him. What was that saying that Mahalo Jones used to say? Oh yes. Worthless as tits on a boar hog. That was Yuki.
And then all of a sudden, the whole filthy scenario disgusted him. He couldn’t stand being in this building, with these weak people, for one more minute.
He walked over to the ledge, picked up his gun and shot his brother in the back of the head. Yuki fell face forward onto the floor near the cot, his body completely still.
Adam hovered over him for a moment but couldn’t muster any feelings of regret or sorrow. He was merely relieved not to have to listen to his brother’s nagging anymore. Lifting the gun once more, he pointed it at the woman passed out in the cot. He held his aim for at least a minute before he lowered the gun again.
“No. Killing you would be a kindness, and I do not feel kindly toward you,” he said. Adam turned and left the warehouse without even a glimpse back at his brother’s dead body. He got back in the car, drove out the front gate and never looked back. Between the heat and the varmints, he felt confident there wouldn’t be any bodies left to find.
He glanced at the time. It was almost 1:00 p.m. as he headed back to the apartment to pack his things. He needed a new place to hide, but the usual traffic delayed him. By the time he arrived, it was almost three.
He grabbed his suitcase and started packing up his things, making sure he left nothing of himself behind. He went through the rooms, one by one, picking up a nail clipper here and a tin of breath mints there. He made his bed, took all of the wet towels and washcloths into the bathroom Yuki had used, and made it appear as if only one man had been in residence.
There was that six-month lease that he’d signed to get the place, but it was under the name Lee Tanaka, so he still felt somewhat anonymous.
Now he had to decide what he wanted to do. Since it appeared Jack McCann was really dead, and his wife about to be, his business in Houston was over. Tomorrow, he’d book a flight back to Japan, but not to Toyko. That was too close to home. He needed time and distance to figure out how he would go about destroying the cartel, and he needed to switch out the license tag on his vehicle, just in case that witness had seen it.
But what he did want tonight was a woman. Ling was his favorite. He needed to place an order before it got any later, and he made a call to Angelique.
“PreJean Escorts, Angelique speaking.”
“Hello, Angelique, this is Adam Ito.”
“Mr. Ito. It is always good to hear your voice. How can I be of service?”
“I want Ling tonight.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Ito, but she’s on a date. Would you like another girl?”
“No. I want Ling.”
Angelique stifled a groan. “Please, Mr. Ito. You know I don’t send my girls out on two dates the same day. She is free tomorrow afternoon until the next day. Could we set that date for you instead?”
“Nine p.m. tonight. Five thousand dollars.”
“You are very persuasive. I will make an exception this time, but this time only. Shall we deliver her to a specific place?” Angelique asked.
“Yes, but my estate is not available for guests at this time. Take her to the alternate address. You know, the one on the outskirts of Pasadena.”
“Yes, of course. I have the address right here,” she said, and quoted a street and house number.
“Yes, that’s the one. Ling knows. Nine o’clock tonight and prompt.”
“Yes, sir,” Angelique said. “Will there be anything else?”
“No,” Adam said, and disconnected.
He grabbed his things and walked out, leaving the apartment unlocked and the key on the floor by the door.
* * *
It was after seven when Jack unlocked the door to his apartment and walked inside. He’d been to every address on that list without a hint of the possibility that Ito had even been there. He was sick at heart and scared. The day had been sweltering and it was still like a sauna, even in the shade. But clouds were building up on the horizon. Likely it would rain sometime tonight, and on the way here, he’d had an idea. It was a wild shot, but worth the try. And, if he caught the woman in the right mood, there was a good chance she could help him pinpoint Adam Ito’s current location. He made the call, then leaned back against the table as he listened to it ring.
* * *
Angelique PreJean had been born in a pirogue beneath a three-quarter moon down in a Louisiana bayou. Her daddy had been poling as fast as he could, but her mama’s time to birth her hadn’t been waiting on home and a bed. The story went that she came out of her mama’s womb so quiet that they thought she was dead. But when they looked down and saw her eyes wide-open and staring up into the dark, star-studded heaven, they cried from the relief. Her daddy cut the cord with his fish-skinning knife and her mama tied the knot, then held the bloody baby against her breasts.
“Take us home, Prayjohn,” she’d whispered.
Francois PreJean had smiled. He loved the way Carla said his name...all soft-like, in the proper French way.
“What do we name her?” Carla had asked.
“Angelique, ma chère, because she is an angel to me.”
“Then Angelique it is,” Carla had said, and held her first child just a little bit closer.
* * *
Forty years of a hard life later, Angelique PreJean’s inauspicious entry into this world hadn’t stopped her from garnering something of a reputation. She ran an escort service in Houston for the rich and famous, and knew many people on both sides of the law.
When her phone rang and came up with an Unknown on her caller ID, she answered with caution.
“Hello?”
“Angelique, this is Jack McCann.”
She breathed an easy sigh of relief. They had no quarrel with each other.
“Jack McCann, what is it that brings you to make this call?”
“I need a favor. Adam Ito is one of your clients, yes?”
Angelique frowned. “You know I don’t divulge my clients’ names.”
“These aren’t normal circumstances. He kidnapped my wife yesterday. You and I both know he will torture her before he kills her. I love her, Angelique. With all my heart. And any information you have might help me save her. Please, don’t make me have to bury her.”
It was the fear and passion in his voice that touched her most.
“Yes, he is a client.”
Jack exhaled slowly. “Okay. When was the last time he called you?”
“Not too long ago, actually.”
“What did he want?”
“A date with Ling,” Angelique said.
“When and where is this date taking place?”
“He has a place...like a bunker beneath a property he owns. Ling says it is quite beautiful. They are meeting there tonight at nine.”
“How does she get into this bunker?” Jack asked.
“The property...the building, is a small, modest home. One bedroom, one bath. He had the bunker built belowground in the backyard, but the entrance is inside the house. He often uses it for his little parties. The entrance is inside the bedroom closet. Twist the clothes rod. After the door opens there are stairs, but move quickly. I would assume he has security cameras, too, since he has all that other security set up. But hear me say this... Ling says no one can go in before Ito is on the premises. I guess there’s some kind of a booby trap. She is free to enter the house only at her appointed times.”
“Do you know the address?”
“Of course. My driver takes girls there on a regular basis.” She told him the address and then sighed. “This mess is going to cost me five thousand dollars.”
“My wife is my life. I will give you five thousand dollars for this information,” Jack said.
Angelique’s eyes welled. She’d lost a chance to be loved like this.
“No. A life is worth far more than any amount of money. I am ashamed I even mentioned it. Mr. Ito does not tolerate anyone being late. If you are lucky, he won’t know it isn’t Ling arriving until you are in the bunker.”
“Thank you. Your help means more to me than you will ever know.”
“Go with God, Jack McCann.”
And the line went dead.
Jack dropped the phone back in his pocket. He was grateful for the information, but frustrated he couldn’t go any earlier. The longer it took to find Ito, the more danger Shelly was in.
* * *
Rats had already been through the food that had been thrown out of the office. But they kept coming, because they smelled blood. Yuki’s blood.
It was a blessing for Shelly that she didn’t know it, even though it was Yuki’s dead body that was saving her from them.
Only rarely did she surface from the darkness that held her down, and when she did rise above it, she was out of her head from the growing fever and pain.
While the heat began to fade with the setting sun, even the doors Adam Ito had left open didn’t help the cloying, airless feel inside the building.
An owl perched high in the rafters didn’t mind the weather. It was eyeing the buffet of rats below, and the lack of ceiling between them. The owl stayed motionless, watching for the right moment to go in for another kill. But it was hunger and the easy prey below that overrode its wariness to fly into an enclosure. The owl aimed for the rats as it came off the rafters, soaring silently with talons outstretched, and swooped down amid them. The owl’s talons curled into the spine of the rat it just caught, piercing the body and breaking the bones in its back. Once again, the rat’s final death squeaks sent the others scrambling for cover, running deep into the darkness, back into the rubble.
Shelly was spared the frantic squeaks and the death throes of the owl’s catch tonight, as well as the disemboweling of its prey. She was somewhere between worlds, unaware of the angels around her bed, waiting to see if she chose to stay, or chose to go. And then the sun finally dropped below the horizon, putting an end to this day.
* * *
Charlie had been at the computer all afternoon updating the files from the hotel search, and coordinating the agents’ continuing searches of Ito’s properties from the office. Every time a team of searchers cleared a property again, they sent in the information and he recorded the time and charted it.
Knowing Jack was alive was nothing short of a miracle. Nolan told him the story of Jack showing up at the search site, and then leaving within minutes of his arrival. Charlie regretted the fact that he hadn’t seen him. Nolan couldn’t quit talking about what he’d done to disguise himself. He couldn’t wait to hear the details, but Shelly’s kidnapping had put a damper on any joy he might have had at hearing about Jack. He kept thinking about that bust. It should not have gone down like that. He was entering the last of the data for the day when he got a phone call from Alicia.
“Hey, babe,” he said, as he answered the call.
“Hi, honey. I have a favor to ask. Would you please stop at the store on your way home and bring home a carton of cream? I’m making Stroganoff and need it to finish off the sauce.”
“Yes, and yum,” Charlie said. “How’s Johnny?”
“Sleeping. He’s been such a good baby today.”
Charlie couldn’t wait to get home and hold him. “Takes after his old man.”
Alicia laughed. “That’s possible. You’re really good at sleeping, too.”
Charlie grinned. “Guilty. So, I’m about ready to leave. Trust that your carton of cream is on the way.”
“Thank you so much. Love you and drive carefully,” Alicia said.
“Will do, and I love you, too.”
Charlie was still smiling when he logged off. Unless they got a break in the case and Ito was located tonight, he got to spend the whole evening with his two favorite people.
* * *
Jack found the house just before 8:00 p.m., then circled the blocks around it, looking for a place to wait. He guessed that Adam Ito was already there, but there was no way he could test the theory, so he was forced to wait another hour. He chose the parking lot of a small strip mall nearby and settled down to wait.
His heartbeat accelerated as it always did when something was about to go down. He patted the feel of his shoulder holster through the jacket to make sure the Glock was there. He had already checked it at the apartment to make sure it was loaded, and he had a couple of backup clips in an inner pocket to go with it. He had a length of rope and a roll of duct tape, and if he needed anything else, he would improvise.
His shoulder was aching. He’d been on the bike too long. He rolled his shoulder muscles to ease the tension. The next time he checked his watch, a wave of relief washed through him.
It was time.
He started the engine and headed back to the neighborhood, making the ride back with a couple of minutes to spare. He eased off on the throttle as he rolled up behind Ito’s car, and was on the porch in seconds, entering the house through the unlocked door. With only four rooms, there was no searching to be done. The bedroom was down a small hall and across from the only bathroom. He ran into the bedroom and then into the closet, grabbed the clothes rod and twisted it, but nothing happened.
“Son of a bitch,” he muttered, then thought to turn it in the opposite direction.
The moment he did, a door swung inward at the back of the closet. He palmed the Glock, took it off safety and took the steps down two at a time. He was half expecting Ito to be waiting for him below with some kind of weapon, but there was no one there, and he was hearing music instead. After a quick survey of his surroundings, he moved through the rooms, following the sound.
* * *
Adam was anticipating Ling’s approach. She always chose a new way to excite him, and he had prepared accordingly. He was nude and facedown on the massage table, wanting that rush of lust—that moment of what the French called “the little death”—when he was no longer in control. It was a weakness—a release that he rarely allowed himself to experience. But the tension within him was overwhelming. He needed this.
A tiny alarm went off on the table beside him. It was time. When he heard the door open, his body physically tensed with excitement.
So, my beauty, prompt as always, he thought to himself.
He heard footsteps behind him and shivered in anticipation. “Hurry,” he said aloud.
“As you wish,” Jack said, and hit him over the back of the head with the butt of his pistol, sending Adam’s world into darkness.
* * *
Adam woke as a great gush of water hit him square in the face. He was blinking trying to clear his vision when he realized he was in the kitchen by the sink, tied to one of his own wooden dining chairs with his arms secured behind him. But when he saw Jack McCann standing in front of him with a Glock pointed right between his eyes, he crowed.
“You’re alive! Oh, that bitch! No matter how many times I threatened and asked her, she swore you were dead. But I knew it—I knew she was lying.”
The thought of what Shelly must have endured every time she told him “no” made Jack sick. And the asshole just howled about it. Without thinking, he lowered the gun and fired a bullet straight through Adam Ito’s right foot and into the floor, cutting through his flesh like a hot knife through butter.
Blood splattered. Bones shattered.
The shriek that came up Ito’s throat was ear-splitting.
Jack stuffed a kitchen towel into Adam’s mouth and then leaned down until they were eye to eye.
“Where is my wife?” Jack asked.
Adam shook his head, and when Jack pulled the towel out of his mouth, he moaned.
“I asked you a question,” Jack said.
Adam raised his head and then grinned.
Without hesitation, Jack aimed the Glock at Adam’s other foot and fired a second shot.
Again, flesh parted for the hot lead, revealing shattered bones and adding more blood to the pool beneath his chair.
The shock on Adam’s face morphed to a horrified grimace as he screamed—adding shriek after shriek as his body began to shake from the pain.
Jack watched the blood running across the floor toward the corner of the room. He stuck the towel back in Adam’s mouth, waiting until his shouts died down to moans.
“Where is my wife?” he repeated, removing the towel.
Adam’s chin dropped to his chest. He kept shaking his head back and forth like a bull trying to work up the courage to charge.
Jack put the gun against his right knee and fired again, and Adam’s body jerked as if he’d been electrocuted.
“Tell me where my wife is now, or I will gut you where you sit and leave you to die here, naked, alone and pathetic.”
Adam shook his head. “You murder me and you’ll never find her!” he cried.
Jack pulled his knife and slit the end of Ito’s ear.
“And no one will find you, either,” Jack said calmly. “You will rot here. The Feds will think you escaped, and the world will forget you. Tell me where my wife is, or your balls are next.”
Adam looked down at his naked body, then at the blood beneath his feet.
“If I tell, you’ll just kill me anyway, won’t you?” he asked.
“Only one way to find out. Is Shelly alive?” Jack asked, and aimed the gun at Adam’s nude crotch.
And that was the moment Adam Ito knew that if he didn’t cooperate, his life was over.
“No! No! Don’t—don’t shoot,” he screamed. “She was alive when I left.”
“Where is she?”
Adam only moaned.
Jack put the muzzle of the gun against Adam’s penis and Adam immediately started talking.
“In an empty warehouse near Houston Hobby Airport. There’s a long chain-link fence separating the warehouse area from the runways, and the warehouse she’s in has a Hostess Twinkies logo painted on the side of the building. Now, call an ambulance for me.”
“You get nothing until I find her. And if she’s dead, so are you. If she’s alive, I’ll send the Feds here to collect you. Don’t bleed to death while I’m gone, because if she’s not there, I’m going to come back, and if you’re not already dead, you’re going to wish you were.”
Jack punched Adam in the face hard enough to knock him out, then grabbed his helmet and ran back up the steps. He reset the secret door and ran out of the house. Seconds later he was on his bike, heading to Houston Hobby.
He knew the Feds could beat him to the site, but if she wasn’t there, then they’d take possession of Ito, and wherever Shelly was, she would die. He needed to make sure she was where Ito said she was before he called in the cavalry.
He’d put his job before Shelly for the very last time.