give an instrument of death such a serene name.
“Yawaraka-Te now rests in your Halliburton case, under the guns,” Mrs. Miyagi said. “I make it a gift to you.”
Quinn caught his breath. A pair of pistols was one thing, but a centuries-old blade forged by a Japanese master was a heavy burden. He may have saved the Director’s grandson, but this woman didn’t know him at all. For her to give him a sword that for all practical purposes was a Japanese national treasure was unthinkable. Still, he could see from the set in Mrs. Miyagi’s jaw to refuse it would be unthinkable.
“Do I get a cool knife?” Thibodaux peeked under the corner of the foam insert inside his aluminum case.
A mischievous sparkle formed in Mrs. Miyagi’s bottomless brown eyes, flashing at Quinn. He nodded, understanding her meaning without words passing between them.
She pushed the Hissatsu toward the Cajun. “Blades are far more powerful when they come to us as a gift. Quinn San wants you to have this one.” Offering him Jericho’s knife with both hands, she changed the subject. “Now, there is much to do. Please put that away and follow me.”
Thibodaux slumped, shoving the present in his aluminum case. “I told you she didn’t like me,” he whispered. “But hey, thanks anyway for the pigsticker, beb.”
Quinn was severely tempted to look under the pistols in his case. He longed to touch the eight-hundred- year-old blade. That would be rude though, so he let it wait.
Mrs. Miyagi stepped out to her front porch and motioned toward the circular driveway. “The Director authorized a second BMW Adventure, identical to yours, Quinn San, but for the color.”
Thibodaux all but vaulted onto the red and black GS. Except for the color it was the twin to Jericho’s gunmetal bike, complete with Touratech aluminum cases.
Mrs. Miyagi ran her hand over the huge gas tank on Quinn’s motorcycle. “The Shop made a few adjustments while you slept. A little more travel in the front suspension… tuned the engine to coax out an additional ten horsepower to your original one oh five… and added run-flat tires.”
Sitting astride his new bike, Thibodaux tipped back and forth on the center stand. He looked like a giant kid on an electric pony. “I’ll bet they shoot rockets or some-”
“Don’t touch that!” Mrs. Miyagi snapped. She stepped closer, pointing at a gray button on the handlebars.
“Really?” The Marine jerked his hand away as if he’d been bitten.
“No, Thibodaux San,” Mrs. Miyagi laughed. “That controls your heated hand grips. Motorcycles do not make a good platform for rockets.” Her smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared. “However, these particular motorcycles will carry you from point A to point B very fast, in places where a conventional vehicle can not always go. As riders you won’t stand out when wearing armored clothing. We have full custom suits based on the measurements you provided. They are fashioned from Aerostich Transit Leather-both the pants and the jackets. Breathable and waterproof, but engineers at the Shop have installed a small cooling system for more pleasant summer wear. Ballistic shielding has been added to the crash armor already in place.”
“I’d like to visit this Shop,” Quinn said, giving his bike a quick once-over to make sure everything was in the proper place. He called it his pre-flight.
“Ah.” Miyagi smiled. “Perhaps someday I can arrange this. The Shop is a small, subunit of DARPA specializing in equipment for teams such as yours.” DARPA-the Defense Advanced Research Project Agency-was a component of the Department of Defense comprised of government and contracted research specialists in everything from nano-bots to guided missile lasers.
Miyagi continued with her gear issue. “Our engineers have added a heads-up display to the visor of your helmet, using the same technology employed by fighter pilots. You will be able to keep your eyes on the road but still access night vision, GPS, and even a video link if that should become necessary-though I don’t recommend it while riding, for safety’s sake. Your helmets have also been wired with a voice encrypted, wireless STU.” The STU was a secure telephone unit usually operated with an encryption key.
“Once they are imprinted, you’ll be able to speak securely to the Director’s office as well as to each other and, when needed, more conventional telephones.”
Thibodaux rolled the black, visored helmet in his beefy hands. “I’ll bet I could check my Facebook on this thing.”
Quinn’s head snapped up. “You’re on Facebook?”
“Sure ’nuff.” Thibodaux grinned. “You’re not?”
“Indeed, you could use the equipment to check such things…” Mrs. Miyagi pursed her lips as if she was about to say something else but turned her attention to Quinn instead. She rested a bronze hand on the handlebar of his motorcycle. “There are quite a lot of improvements, too many to comprehend in a short briefing. They were designed to be intuitive so nothing should surprise you. I believe you will be pleased as you learn of them. Some may even save your life.”
“So,” Jericho said, already feeling the calm waves of normalcy his bike provided, “we train with you?”
“That is correct,” Miyagi said. “I am aware of your previous curriculum. I will provide a more spiritual… esoteric sort of guidance to prepare you for what the Director has in mind.”
“And we are to stay here?”
Miyagi remained stone-faced. “For a time…”
The buzz of Quinn’s cell phone interrupted Mrs. Miyagi’s answer. She stepped back, motioning for him to take the call with a wave of her open hand.
“Hello?”
“ Assalaamu alaikum, Jericho.” The Arabic voice was unmistakable. It was Sadiq. “I hope you have much money, for I have much news for you.”
In his typical fashion, Sadiq meandered on about the weather, his ailing grandmother, and his fat uncle, all in windy, unending detail, refusing to get to the meat of the matter. After two minutes, Quinn had had enough.
“Well, well, my friend…” He risked butting in, hoping the thin-skinned boy’s lust for money would win over his ego. “You said you have important news…?”
The line went quiet. “I do,” Sadiq said at length, the irritation at having been interrupted clear in the staccato clip that had fallen on his speech. “News the Great Satan will, no doubt, find extremely vital.”
“I am authorized to pay you well.”
“This is much more than I’ve ever given you…”
“How much more?”
“Come now, my friend. Can one put a price on human life?”
Jericho nodded at that. “Tell me what you have in mind.”
“Four hundred American dollars bought the lives of two American hostages. What would the Great Satan pay to save millions?”
CHAPTER 20
Quinn directed Sadiq to call him back on a landline inside Mrs. Miyagi’s house. Unless fitted with sophisticated adapters, cell phones were about as secure as shouting from the rooftops, and though Quinn’s was secure, he’d only issued such a device to Sadiq when they were actually on a mission.
Once connected on the hard line, they exchanged code words. Jericho quizzed the boy for a short time about a few of their past experiences to be sure he hadn’t been compromised. In the meantime, Thibodaux called Win Palmer and briefed him on the situation. The Marine listened intently, then scribbled something on a notepad and handed it to Quinn.
“Two million U.S. dollars,” Quinn read aloud, raising his eyebrows. “ If the information is as you say.”
“ Raa’irh,” Sadiq gasped. Splendid. “But, I cannot spend even one penny if I am a dead man.”
“We’ll get you out of the country, give you a new name.”
“That is better,” Sadiq said in passable English. “I have always wanted to attend Harvard. You think I could go to Harvard? Maybe become a learned man in the law?”
Quinn thought of the quick two million the kid had just negotiated by spying on his friends and relatives. “I
