Without A Trace. Sandra K. Moore
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jumping for joy, Nikki couldn’t tell. His guns stayed steady, but his gaze flicked over her formfitting training pants and top. “You are very small.”
So are you, she wanted to retort, but didn’t. True, she was a little short—it made squirming through boat holds easier—but he wasn’t that much taller. Her automatic comparison of his physique to Jet Li’s might be unimaginative, but it was also accurate.
“The goddess sent more than one emissary,” she replied, but couldn’t keep the scorn from her voice when she added, “A taller one, no doubt.”
His right eye tightened at the corner. Was he laughing at her? Angry? Confused by the English word emissary? The wind shifted slightly and she caught the scent of a classic novel she’d picked up once in the Athena library. The copy had been decades old, with yellow, mildewed pages she’d been happy to bury her nose in.
It was the scent of regret.
“My contact said you were of the dark goddess. The dog. Not Athena. Heck-a-tee.”
Nikki smiled despite herself. “Yes. Hecate.”
“Is that the dog goddess’s name?”
“Are you Johnny Zhao?” she countered.
He inclined his head in something like a formal bow, his eyes never moving from her face. Still not trusting her.
“What happened to Regina?”
He abruptly dropped his gun hands to his sides. “An ambush outside her work.”
“You were there?”
“I wasn’t alert.” Zhao flicked on the safeties of both guns and disappeared them into the folds of his fighting trousers. “I let her out of my sight.”
“I doubt that was the problem.”
“She was my responsibility.”
“She hired you. I’d say that makes things work the other way around.”
His eyes narrowed. Nikki wished he’d lose the ninja garb because she wanted to see the rest of his face, not just hear his voice emerging from black gauze. But she didn’t need to see him to know that the regret was now rolling off him in waves. He was telling her the truth. He’d felt protective of Regina, that was clear in the light pine underlying the old paper scent. And he’d failed.
Nikki realized she was still holding the semiautomatic on him. She lowered it and was immediately surprised by how strained her shoulder felt. Damn heavy gun.
“Who ambushed her?”
“I don’t know yet. It was a professional hit. No clues and no calling cards.”
“Did she give you any information I can use?”
Zhao shook his head. “She told me only to keep watch over this vessel when it came into port.”
“I can do that now.”
“With my help.”
His matter-of-fact statement struck her speechless for a moment, then she said, “Maybe.”
“Honor demands I complete the mission.”
“Do you even know what the mission is?”
The corners of his eyes crinkled. Nikki knew that underneath his makeshift ninja costume he was likely smiling. She wished suddenly she could see his lips, and not to read them for tension or intent.
“I know you will need help. I am commissioned to complete the task. I’m responsible for—”
“Don’t,” Nikki said around her tightening throat. “She’s gone. Let’s move on.”
“I’m doing that. She paid me for a mission and I will complete it.”
Nikki recognized the universal male “ain’t gonna budge” look in his stance. Growing up with seven brothers was enough to teach her when she needed to bide her time, and now was that moment. She’d deal with him later, after she had a look around the ship. And since Hero here wanted to come along—and had great stealth skills—she might as well let him.
“What’s your background?”
He hesitated and for a moment she thought he’d ignore her question, but he finally said, “Hong Kong police.”
She stared. “You’re a cop?”
He shrugged, as if his occupation was of little interest to him and should be of less to her.
“So you know this vessel belongs to SHA,” she pressed.
“SHA is a front for the Wo Shing Wo.”
“Who?”
“A triad organization.”
Nikki frowned. “A guard I talked to thought the guys attacking the ship were triads. But if he was working for them…”
Her confusion must have been written on her face in capital letters because he said, “Triad means ‘mafia.’ Different groups inside the mafia fight for control. It’s the same with the triads. Hong Kong has more than fifty different factions. Some of them are street gangs. Some are organized. Wo Shing Wo. Fourteen-K. Sun Yee On.”
“We’ve landed in the middle of a gang war. Great.”
“There’s always a gang war.”
She thought she heard fatigue in his quiet voice. She understood. For every cocaine and heroin shipment her squadron intercepted, nine more got through. Sometimes it felt as if it’d never end.
Nikki mentally shook herself. “Which one would likely be trying to hijack this vessel?”
Zhao blew out a breath, making the gauze wrapped around his mouth plume slightly. “Sun Yee On. They’ve got the upper hand on the streets these days.”
“What are they into?”
“The usual. Child slavery, prostitution, drugs. Every vice money can buy.” He paused. “They’re behind, though.”
“Behind?”
“The growth sectors are identity theft and online extortion. It’s why the Wo Shing Wo will dominate in another year or two. Markets are changing. The Wo Shing Wo are much more active online.”
“Por dinero baila el perro,” she muttered. The dog dances for money. “But what are they looking for here?”
“The scouting group was small. How many did you subdue?”
Subdue. Like she’d sung them to sleep. “Two.”
“That makes twelve in all. A local group controlling the dockyard. What we need is its red pole.”
She looked at him.
“The enforcer in charge,” he qualified. “To question him.”
“Let’s make sure the ship is secured then,” she said. “Maybe he’s hiding somewhere and I need to have a look around, anyway.”
“For what?”
“A passenger who might be the source of a satellite signal.” Nikki stuck the semiautomatic in her waistband so she could rummage through her gear bag. She pulled out the PDA and fired it up. The signal was weaker here at the bow but still in the low seventies. Diviner hadn’t moved.
“Passengers normally have cabins just below the bridge deck,” she continued. “But I don’t know how he’s getting his signal out through all that metal.”
“Let’s go look.”
She headed back through the cargo containers, slipping easily between them. Zhao followed silently. Aware of him but unable to smell or hear him, her hackles rose. She felt like a mouse being stalked. In moments they’d arrived back at the door where she’d surprised a guard.
Nothing