Travis Justice (10 page)

She pulled out her phone and requested an urgent meeting with John Travis. A few minutes later, she was driving toward Tarrytown.

* * *

After the gate guards checked her ID and noted a text from John allowing her entry, she parked in front of the mansion. For the first time, she saw that John Travis, as she'd heard, had plenty of money. He really was a dedicated lawman by choice.

She'd barely rung the doorbell before a portly woman, short and smelling of flour and onions, let her in. She smiled, her pudgy cheeks dented with dimples. “Señora Doyle, I have heard much about you. Come in, come in.”

Abby was clueless, but soon enough Zach came into the foyer from a side door, obviously having heard Abby's voice. He hugged the little woman. “Consuela, what are we having for dinner tonight? Something delicious, as usual.” He winked at Abby over her head. “Can you stay for dinner? We're eating at six tonight. I have to leave by eight, as you know, so I can be in the van when—” He broke off at Abby's expression.

Consuela looked between the two, her merry expression falling, and left them without another word.

Abby said simply, “We may have to delay the mission. Ernie Thibodeaux missed our meeting and I haven't heard a word from him.”

Zach showed her into the study.

They found John at his desk trying to dent his pile of ever-growing paperwork. Abby sat in the chair before his desk. Zach remained standing, watching uneasily as his father clicked on the desk light, illuminating him against the dark wallpaper.

John divided his time between the desk phone he propped on his shoulder so he could talk, and the requisition list his men had given him for the planned incursion into Kai's stronghold. After listening, John said calmly, “I know, Jimmy, I don't like having the sword out of our control either, but without this girl we'd have even more operational holes to plug. You know I can't give you details, but it could also offer greater security to both my men and my informants to allow her to borrow the blade, and that's all it is. A loan. Remember, we have plenty of insurance to cover the value.”

He listened again, watching Zach go to the window shade. But when he reached to pull it down, John glared at him so fiercely that Zach's hand fell. He took to pacing.

Abigail watched this byplay; then she looked sympathetically at poor Zachary William Barrett Travis, the chief of executive Ranger security. Guarding John Travis would not be an easy task. Especially if you were his son.

“Look, I have to go for now,” John finished. “I promise you, we'll get the blade back when the operation is over. Worst case, I'll make good on any balance myself to cover the full cost if it goes missing. Good enough?”

When he got the answer he wanted, John put the phone down, making a mock swipe of his brow. “A disgruntled LLC member, the only one of the five that voted no on letting the girl borrow the blade. But I think I convinced him to wait rather than sue me.” He smiled at Abby. “You said you needed to see me right away?”

Abby said without embroidering, “I think Kai has probably imprisoned Ernie Thibodeaux.”

John scowled. “How do you know he didn't skip?”

“I don't know for sure, but I think Ernie really cares about Hana. I don't believe he'd desert her. After all, he's the one who offered to take her place.”

Zach stopped pacing long enough to say, “For what it's worth, Dad, I agree.”

John frowned for a moment longer, then said, “Okay, if he's being held, we have to be even more careful. What if they torture him? I'm sure they know we arrested him, and they also know we often recruit informers. If he talks, even Takeo could be in danger.”

The three exchanged an uncertain look.

But Zach's expression cleared as he said, “I know one person who can help us figure out what's happening. I'm going to pick up Ms. Nakatomi.”

“I don't want her brought here,” John said sternly.

“Under the circumstances, we need to regroup before we start planning the op,” Zach argued. “She's expecting us to pick her up anyway to do the van reenactment, but I think we should wait a night or two on that. We need to reassess. This changes everything. Instead of reliable intel on what we're getting into, we have another hostage.”

John groused, “You can question her at headquarters if you want, not here.”

Zach argued, “But she's been here before. I think she'll be more open if we question her here.”

John made an impatient gesture, but when he did, the stack of invoices he was initialing fluttered to the floor. As he bent down to pick it up, a slight
ping!
sounded and then a bullet embedded itself in the wall behind where his head had been a second before.

J
ohn had been around firearms all his life and he knew what a silenced long-range weapon sounded like. He went flat on the floor behind his desk.

Zach swept Abby out of her chair. “Stay down!” Then to his father, “You okay, Dad?” Zach's heart was racing so fast, he heard his own breathless tone. Good God, he knew the guys behind the murders had to be bold, but this went beyond bold to crazy. Still, time enough to put together all the whys later.

Even the imperturbable John sounded a bit shaken. “Yes, son of a bitch, I can't believe they took a potshot at me in my own study!”

“Both of you stay put!” Zach crawled to the window, stood to the side and pulled the shade down. “Where's the radio?” he demanded.

“On the desk. To reach it I'll have to sit up.”

“Don't move!”

“Why the hell haven't the guards reacted outside?”

“I don't think they heard anything. Can you reach the desk light without sitting up?” Zach inquired.

John fumbled with one long arm, but managed to reach the light and yank the little brass chain. As he did so, another shot pinged, going through windowpane, shade—and John's hand if he'd been one inch to the left. John shied away, going totally flat on the floor. But the light was out and the room was almost pitch-dark except for the dim light from a wall sconce.

“Holy shit, they must have some kind of imaging equipment,” Zach warned. “Stay there until I get the window covered.”

Still keeping to the side wall, Zach pulled a decorative escritoire out from the paneling. It had long, slender legs and a tall pediment of solid wood that would cover most of the window. Without ceremony, Zach dumped everything in it, including some of his mother's prized Steuben glass vases and Lladró figurines, onto the floor, oblivious to the shattering of thousands of dollars' worth of décor. Then he picked the heavy mahogany escritoire up and heaved it against the window. It teetered but stabilized.

“We should be shielded now.” Zach felt secure enough to dash for the radio. With no time for niceties, he muttered, “Take Abigail to the pantry off the kitchen. Wait for me. Get Mom and Consuela too. Take your piece.”

For once, John Travis obeyed someone else's order.

Running into the hallway to check the door, Zach growled into the radio at their very expensive security detail, “What the hell is wrong with you guys? Don't you know what a long-range silenced rifle sounds like? They just took two shots at us. Get to the trees outside the wall now. That's the only place they could be.
Now
, dammit, before they get away!” Zach went from room to room to check that all was secure, but he didn't find any broken windows or smashed door locks.

As he passed the pantry on his way to the back door, he rapped on the heavy portal. “Y'all okay in there?”

“Yes. We're fine,” his father groused. “I don't like hiding here like a coward, Zach. I want to come out and help catch these bastards.”

“Yes, well, as chief of executive Ranger security I'm telling you to stay put until I get a site rep from the guards. I radioed them to check the trees and I've confirmed we're secure on ingress and egress in the house for now, but I'd rather y'all stay there until I know more. Just a few more minutes.”

Without waiting for his father's response—for he knew he wouldn't like it—Zach raced out the door, his own pistol at the ready.

* * *

Inside Ernie's kitchen, trying to calm herself with peppermint tea, Hana checked her watch for the umpteenth time. Ernie should have been back before now. He'd intended to go with Hana on the route, having just gone through the same routine with the hood and van, except his journey was in daylight. Surely, between the two of them they could find the compound. But it was only an hour before they were supposed to be picked up by the security guys and Ernie still wasn't back from his earlier meeting with Kai.

To distract herself, Hana pulled the sword out from the secret cupboard where she'd hidden it. Being an expert safecracker gave Ernie unusual perspective on how to secure his most valued possessions. He'd showed her the stash spot when he'd asked her to stay with him. She'd been touched then at his trust of her, but when she pushed and pulled the succession of levers and handles that swung out a side cupboard, she'd found it empty.

She'd looked at him strangely. “I don't own anything worth going through all these maneuvers.”

Ernie had smiled. “Just in case.”

Now, in his practice ring, as she went through the old moves that were as natural to her as breathing, she wondered if somehow—with that amazing sixth sense of his that made him such an expert sensei—he'd hoped they'd let her borrow the sword.

Both arms raised high above her head, she exhaled on “hai!” simultaneously bringing the sword down. The move was designed to cleave the enemy, clavicle to hip, in a downward left diagonal. As she moved into the upward opposite diagonal, Hana for the first time began to understand why the ancient samurai called exquisite weapons like this five body blades. Merely practicing the moves with Masamune's masterpiece made her wonder what it would be like to use it on its intended target: human flesh. Would it slice through flesh and bone as cleanly as it had Ernie's straw target?

The sword sang in her hands as it whistled through the air, and then a thought came to her that so upset her, she froze mid-move. Dear heaven, if she felt this way wielding this deadly weapon, how would Kai react? Did she dare let him have the blade, even briefly, as a ploy to get her inside the compound? What if the raid failed and he kept the blade?

She still struggled against the pit-of-her-stomach certainty he was behind the grisly killings. But she also knew if he'd committed such mayhem with an ordinary katana, he'd feel like a shogun with complete dominance once he held this weapon.

She was so upset at that thought that she didn't hear the first knock. The second one came as a bang, really. At the door.

She wasn't sure what to do with the sword and finally stuck it in the sheath strapped to her back. It was safest with her because she'd die protecting it.

She unlocked all the heavy door locks and swung the huge hunk of metal open. On the stoop she found two uniformed DPS troopers. Immediately her hackles rose. “Yes?” Just in case this was an unannounced visit, as her immunity agreement stated they could perform until she'd located the compound, she held up her ankle. The blinking light was vivid against her black nylon jumpsuit. She'd put it on to practice while she awaited Ernie.

The older trooper, who looked much more seasoned than his younger partner, said curtly, “Very good, but that's not why we're here, ma'am. If you'll come with us for questioning.”

Hana scowled. Now what? “Why? That's not part of my immunity agreement.”

“There have been . . . recent developments. I've been tasked with bringing you to Deputy Director John Travis at the direct request of his chief of security.”

That was Zachary Travis, Hana knew. Sighing, she stuffed her driver's license, some cash, and a credit card into an inside zippered compartment in her form-fitting tuck-in blouse. Locking Ernie's door and pocketing the key he'd given her, she meekly followed the deputies to the cruiser waiting for her, lights blinking. “But the security detail was going to pick me up in about thirty minutes—”

“We've been instructed to tell you that has been delayed until further notice.”

Totally mystified, and now becoming concerned, for her immunity agreement was tied to finding the compound, she got into the back of the cruiser. As they drove, she looked yet again at her phone, hoping she'd missed the
ding
of a text from Ernie.

Her screen was blank.

* * *

At the formerly peaceful Travis mansion, chaos ruled. Flashing police cruisers blocked both ends of the street. Wearing a bright orange jacket that glowed in the occasional headlight, a police officer waved approaching vehicles to turn around. Yellow tape was strung all around the huge trees fronting the street, as well as the mansion's heavy wrought-iron fence.

Various forensic personnel, including Abigail Doyle, wore gloves as, under very bright lights set up in the street, they carefully examined every inch of the grass. Their trained eyes knew what to look for, but from their resigned expressions, even they seemed to think seeking the minutest hair strand or clothing lint in the dark was foolish. They'd hoped for a casing, but Zach knew they wouldn't be that lucky. Whoever took the shots no doubt had picked up his spent shells before he left.

Pissed they'd been caught napping, Zach grilled each and every member of the security detail for the third time. In between, he glanced occasionally at Ms. Doyle. She was very systematic, working in a grid system around the trees, making copious screen shots of every angle with her iPad. That compilation would later help with the ballistics.

Another man dusted with high-tech powder, trying to pick up fingerprint samples from the trees themselves. Yet a third had climbed the big oak, his thin form totally hidden in the thick foliage. Really, it was no wonder they'd not spotted the shooter, but now Zach second-guessed himself. Why the hell hadn't he insisted the trees be pruned down to the trunk?

The guy in the tree yelled, “Here it is! There's a homemade rifle rest!”

They all waited while he took measurements and careful pictures. Finally he half shimmied, half jumped down, two pieces of wood nailed together in a rough V in his free gloved hand. After the print forensics analyst dusted for prints, he offered it to Zach. Zach, also gloved, turned the crossed pieces of wood in his hands, noting the slightly darkened ends where the fresh cuts in the wood had been exposed to a recent rain. It appeared as if it had been constructed out of short pieces of two-by-fours and nailed into a V of the tree—directly opposite the study window.

Zach and Abby exchanged a grim look.

She said with concern, “From the weathered look of the wood, this was planned, not opportunistic.”

“Could be they put it there before we even hired our security detail. Which means they must have been scoping us out for days. . . .” Zach's voice trailed away, but Abby finished his thought.

“Since Ms. Nakatomi first went for the sword.” They exchanged an even grimmer look.

Zach couldn't voice the suspicion that dried his saliva, but Abby had no such compunction.

She said slowly, “Do you think she's been lying to us? That she's really been working with Kai all along? Is it possible we think we're trying to turn her into an informant, but she's already one for him?”

Zach shook his head adamantly. “I don't care what the time frame is, I don't believe she'd ever endanger her son and her friend by working with that monster, especially after he left her in jail when she was pregnant.”

Abby reminded him, “Yes, but if Mr. Thibodeaux is correct, Kai didn't know she was pregnant.”

Zach ignored that. He carefully bagged the tree rest. “Besides, just because the rest has been there for several days, it doesn't mean someone has been hidden there all that time. Why would they risk exposure until they were ready to fire? Not good tactics.”

Abby nodded a bit uncertainly at that logic, but she was obviously still bothered by the matching time frame.

They were still working when a cruiser came up and Hana Nakatomi, the katana strapped to her back, got out of the backseat, shunning the trooper's helping hand. She stood very still for a moment, watching all the activity. Zach and Abby went to meet her. They both watched her expressions and mannerisms closely, but she displayed neither shock nor satisfaction, only a curious fatalism. She shifted the sword slightly, as if it felt burdensome.

She looked at Zach's cold expression. Something vulnerable flickered in her eyes under the bright lights, but then she lifted her chin and stepped up to him until they were toe to toe. “There's obviously been another attack, but I'll save us both an interrogation. I was at Ernie's place all day, practicing in his ring while I waited for your men to arrive for our trip to the compound. I had the security system on and I'm sure they can verify that I didn't shut it off until thirty minutes ago when the troopers picked me up.”

“Easy enough for someone with your skill set to circumvent,” Zach pointed out.

“Easy enough for you to pull Ernie's video footage too.” She stared up at him with an unflinching gaze. She proffered the key Ernie had given her. “I'll wait.” She held up her ankle bracelet by raising her foot. “But then, you always know where I am anyway, don't you? All you have to do is make one phone call to confirm.”

Zach relaxed slightly, but he accepted the key and gave it to the same senior trooper who'd brought her. The trooper turned back to his cruiser without another word.

“I was told your father wanted to see me?” Hana asked, not even watching him go.

Zach glanced at Abby, but she waved him toward the house. “I can finish here.”

And so, a few minutes later, Hana and John Travis stared at one another across his wide desk. Hana seemed too fidgety to sit, so she paced in front of his desk, totally unaware of the leashed athleticism and sensuality she displayed in her tight clothing as she strode up and down. But Zach was all too aware. With the katana sheathed to her back, her long black hair flowing like luminous, liquid silk around her shoulders, she was the sexy ninja chick of every male fantasy. Zach shifted uncomfortably, crossing his legs, but since that only proved her effect on him, he rested both his feet flat on the floor and hoped neither his father nor Hana looked in his direction.