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
