Pandora's Succession (14 page)

“How did The Promise know about this facility, and what made them so sure that they could break into it? For them to be able to pull this off they’d have to have someone on the inside.”

“They did.” Tanaka handed Fox the brown manila envelope from its holder. The envelope was left unsealed and Fox pulled out a familiar picture.

“The man you see there is—”

“Valerik, ex-KGB.”

“You know him.”

“He’s the reason I’m here, but I guess you’ve already figured that out. How’s he involved?” Fox took a sip of his sake.

Tanaka continued. “He’s one of Hashimoto’s followers, but before that he was, and may still be, associated with a consortium called the Arms of Ares, which he joined soon after the fall of the Soviet Union. He’s Hashimoto’s chief strategist and he was going to provide the cult with the necessary information and technology that would allow them to carry out their plan.” Tanaka sipped some more of the sake. “Tell me what you know about Pandora. We already know that you’ve been to one of Ares’s facilities and destroyed it. You must know what it can do.”

“I’ve been briefed on what it can do, and I’m sure you have, too. You only wish you knew about Hashimoto’s plans before Valerik was able to make off with it and arrive here in this country undetected. So when were you planning on sharing that information with us?”

Fox took Tanaka’s silence into consideration. “That’s okay. I understand it must be embarrassing for you.” He looked at the second picture of the man he assumed was Hashimoto.

“So, when you find Valerik, what do you plan to do? Kill him?” asked Tanaka.

“No, I thought you’d let me question him before you all do that.”

“That we can do.”

“Then I’ll keep that in mind. But I’m guessing your visit to the airport was more than coming to meet me. Am I being recruited to join you guys in the hunt for Valerik?”

Tanaka chuckled. “You have many talents, Fox. You’ve lent us your assistance in the past. You were a tremendous asset and for that we’re in your debt.”

“Thanks, but that was a long time ago. I prefer working alone now. So, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get out.”

Tanaka’s surprise was evident in his facial expression. “So soon?”

“You seem to have all the resources you need. You don’t need me.”

There was a moment’s pause.

“As you wish, Mr. Fox.” Tanaka leaned forward and tapped on the glass partition. Fox watched the driver’s eyes look back through the rearview mirror and Tanaka motioned him to the side of the road.

A few seconds later, the car came to a stop.

Fox opened the door and turned to Tanaka. “I’m sure I’ll be hearing from you or one of your men soon.” The trunk was automatically opened from the inside when he got to it. Fox removed his suit bag and swung it over his shoulder. He didn’t hear Tanaka’s door open amidst the other sounds of cars, horns, and even a police siren. He closed the trunk, and turned to walk away when he heard Tanaka.

“We lost three good men to these people. Do you think they’ll treat you any different?”

Fox walked away without looking back. “I don’t know because that’s the least of my concerns.”

“You ought to be concerned. It’s what might keep you alive, as your friend Hiller would still be right now. May he rest in peace.”

Fox stopped abruptly. He turned around and faced Tanaka.

“Both of you worked together to help us.”

Fox used his free hand to brush back a few strands of hair that fell in front of his left eye. The air in his mouth got drier with each passing second as he slowly took a step back towards Tanaka’s vehicle. Tanaka was calmer and his cheekbones did not glisten as they did before.

“Come work with us again, Fox. And we’ll find Valerik together.”

Fox was about to take another step.
Remember the note. It obviously wasn’t for nothing.
“As I said, that was a long time ago. I work alone now.” Fox turned and walked the other way and hailed the first taxi about to pass him. It swerved to the side and screeched to a halt. Fox got in and the cab sped off into traffic.

“Akasaka Imperial Hotel, please,” said Fox in Japanese. He let his head fall back. The only thing on his mind at the moment was getting a hot shower. Probably watch a movie or two while in his suite. It was a relief to be away from Tanaka right now, but Fox knew that Tanaka’s men would be tailing him. He would have to lose them in a large crowd. “You know what? I need excitement. Take me to Kabukicho instead.” This area was Japan’s largest red-light district, an area Fox frequented whenever he was in town. The driver nodded in response.

Fox looked through the rearview mirror to see if he could spot the second black sedan. Nothing was in sight. There had to be a second unmarked somewhere in the traffic—it wasn’t the first time he’d been tailed—nothing a quick change of clothes and a little makeup couldn’t fix. Losing them would be easy. The hard part would come once he set up another date with Dr. Nita Parris.

Chapter 14

Hexagon Pharmaceuticals parking lot, 9:00 AM

Valerik muttered to himself as he walked through Hexagon’s parking lot, got into his blue hatchback, and slammed the door.
A day later and Hashimoto still can’t tell me why Dewan acted up yesterday while everything went normal with Eva.
He grabbed the top of the steering wheel and tapped it with both index fingers. Again, Dr. Parris was on his mind.
What did that woman do? What was she holding back?

Valerik started up his car and backed out of the handicapped spot, barely missing a female Hexagon employee, and drove off. Valerik’s car felt a bit lazy as he tried to accelerate to the entrance, when suddenly it sped up again. The occupant of a passing car caught his attention so that he almost rear-ended a car that was stopped in front of him. Valerik slammed on the breaks, missing the back bumper of the car in front by inches.

Dr. Parris was in the passing car, and she did a double take as she passed him. He couldn’t help notice the change in her facial expression.
Was she scared or just curious?
Regardless of what it was, his danger radar was on high alert and it warranted following her. Fox’s interference at destroying the Groznyy facility was a minor setback. He couldn’t afford any more, not at this point when they were so close. And if she was going to be a liability, then she must be taken care of at once.

He exited the parking lot onto the two-lane road where he would drive for a few miles before he found a place to stop. He’d then call Hashimoto and let him know his thoughts on Parris. He wanted to be alerted the moment that she was about to leave Hexagon. The car began to jerk aggressively again, and then sputtered until it coughed itself to a stop. The rodeo ride ended as he looked at the fuel gauge.

“Ahueyet!”
What the fuck!
Valerik stared at the empty fuel gauge.
Impossible. I filled the tank this morning.
A loud roaring noise closed in on him. Valerik checked the rearview mirror above the dashboard and saw an SUV, seconds before it came up on his driver’s side and then swerved in on him. The seatbelt bit into his waist and chest as his car was thrown.

His car did a three-sixty spin once and came to rest. Valerik heard the roar resume before he saw a pair of white taillights as the SUV reversed towards him. The collision should’ve ripped Valerik out of his seatbelt and thrown him through the passenger-side door. Instead, the car slid sideways like a hockey puck across the ice.

When the car settled, Valerik fumbled for the seatbelt buckle while he was in a dizzy state. He heard men’s voices speaking in Russian, seconds before someone undid the seatbelt for him, yanked him out of the car and threw him onto the concrete.

They found me. But how?
Valerik pondered that, as he watched two jean-covered legs from behind. One man was bent over inside his car. There was another one, and his running shoes were visible from underneath the car as he paced back and forth. He heard what sounded like the car seats being torn apart.
What the hell are they doing to my car?

He clenched his eyes shut and when he opened them he looked at his assailants. He recognized the one closest to him who stood over six feet tall. It was Pyotr. He had a cleft in his chin and a buzz-cut hairdo. Based on his athletic physique, he could easily pass for a soccer player instead of the vicious assassin he was.

“Have you found anything?” In Russian, Pyotr asked the other, whom Valerik still couldn’t see.

“Nothing,” came a reply. That voice had a familiarity to it as well, but Valerik was too disoriented to put a face to the voice.

Valerik tried to get up, but there was no use, he was weak and hurting. Even if he could limp he wouldn’t be able to get too far. Pyotr walked to the back of the trunk, flung it open and dug around inside. He wouldn’t find anything in there except for the spare tire. And Valerik knew it when he saw him back away from the trunk and turn to the other man, still out of sight.

Pyotr approached Valerik. “Let’s go. Come help me carry him.”

The dirt-stained running shoes stopped a foot away from his face. He knew what was going to come next and before he had a chance to turn his head he saw the tip of the shoe flying right towards his head.

***

“Eh, comrade. End of the line. Wake up.”

Valerik felt his face thrown against a cold hard surface. His right eye could not open well. It must have been where he had been kicked. There was a coldness of the window on his right cheek. If he had a prayer, Valerik would be able to shoot his way out of this situation. He wasn’t surprised to find his gun missing.

Pyotr—who was sitting beside him—slapped Valerik with a backhand to his cheek. “Come on. You didn’t think you’d still be armed, did you?” He could only see the back of the driver’s head. Through one eye, he stared out the window. There were large stacks of metal crates on either side where they drove. Then he saw a large cargo ship. And that smell, that marine smell, he caught through the open window up front. They were at the Tokyo harbor.

The car came to a stop alongside another red sedan which faced the waterfront, with the downtown city skyline on the opposite side of the bay. And that’s when Valerik saw the man he hated at the edge of the dock. He was so arrogant that he had to dress in his trademark gray suit while the rest of his thuggish entourage wore jeans and old plain jackets.

Pyotr pushed Valerik out the door, showing off his Micro-Uzi to him. “Come on, out you go.”

He then saw the driver. It was Demyan. He knew firsthand that he had been about to be committed to a mental institution after being dishonorably discharged from the Russian military—until Ares had recruited him. He was a few inches shorter than Pyotr, had put on a bit of muscle, especially around his shoulders, since the last time he had seen him. He still had a thinning hairline and unkempt stubble.

Pyotr nudged Valerik forward with the tip of the Micro-Uzi. “Do you remember when we used to take orders from you, comrade?”

Valerik didn’t answer as he watched them both laugh.
These lowlifes are enjoying this.
As he walked, he tasted the salty, metallic blood in the space where three of his teeth used to be. The shove he got from behind made him lose his footing and he stumbled to the ground—to the shoes of the real sadist.
Typical of these men. They always took pleasure in abusing their victims.

The white-haired man approached him, pen twirling in his hand. “Valerik, my old friend. Look at you. Once a decorated KGB operative and a notable agent of Ares. Now you’re a crazed fanatic.”

“And you,” said Valerik, swallowing a small amount of blood and coughing a few times. “Profiting from the demise of the Soviet Union. You and your group are no more than terrorists. Shameful, petty terrorists.”

The white-haired man chuckled and stopped twirling his pen. “Is that how you see us? You betrayed us because you think we’re terrorists?” The white-haired man then turned around, walked back to the waterfront and stopped short, a foot from the edge. The only sounds heard were the lapping of the water, a dragging boat horn, and blurred city noise in the background.

“You had an excellent plan to use your rank to infiltrate one of our labs and destroy it. But I doubt you’d be so obtuse as to destroy the only supply of Pandora without saving some for yourself and for your friends at Hexagon Pharmaceuticals.”

How did he know about Hexagon? It must be Ares’s mole within the CIA. It was the only explanation. My God! The girl—Dr. Parris—she’s got to be CIA.

The white-haired man turned around with such dramatic flair that he appeared to cause the small breeze that sent a chill deep through to Valerik’s bones. The white-haired man got down on one knee so close to him that Valerik could hear the clicking his pen made as he twirled it close to his ear. “Where is it?”

Valerik began to get up slowly, but he felt a sneaker dig into the back of his neck and push him back down. There was no sense in trying. These men always kept their victims down. He knew it was over for him, so there was no sense giving in to them.