PRIMAL Fury (The PRIMAL Series) (19 page)

CHAPTER 36

PRIMAL HQ, LASCAR ISLAND

“So what have we got, guys?” Vance arrived in the Bunker conference room and dropped into a chair at the head of the table. The other occupants of the room included Chen Chua and one of his analysts. Sixteen hours had passed since Bishop and his team had left the hangar in Ukraine, a long time in the world of espionage.

“We’ll start with what we got out of Hungary. Flash has been working on intel from the castle,” said Chua.

“Morning, Vance,” said Paul “Flash” Gordon, Chua’s signals intelligence analyst. A former member of the National Security Agency, he specialized in tearing apart communications networks and exploiting electronic devices.

“Morning, Flash. You get out on the blacktop yesterday?”

Both he and Vance had a collection of old-school motorcycles in the hangar that they tinkered with in their downtime, racing on the island’s airstrip when they could get the bikes to work.

“Yeah, gave the Vincent a run.”

“How’d she pull up?”

“Bit rough. I can’t get that new carburetor to idle smoothly.”

“Might come good. Give it some time.”

“True. Worst case, I’ll get Mitch to have a look at it.”

“You want to ride it, not be flung into orbit!”

Flash laughed as he activated his tablet and got down to the business at hand. “Like Chua said, I’ve been working the exploitation piece from the castle in Hungary. The good news is Bishop’s Trojan gave us full access to their network. The bad news is, it looks like the data has been cleaned.”

“What does that mean?” Vance asked.

“It means that someone has been through it with a fine-tooth comb and removed every trace of our Japanese friends.”

“Or it was never there in the first place,” Vance added. “These guys seem to have pretty tight OPSEC.”

“True. So right now, apart from the names Bishop identified and the Yakuza link Kurtz dug up, the only other real useful piece of info was the phone Mirza grabbed.”

“That the one András had?”

“Yeah, it looks as if he changed it regularly. No stored numbers, wiped his recent calls; like you said, these guys run pretty tight OPSEC. However, I still managed to pull a couple of numbers from it. One was to the local cops; the other was a number I traced back to France. To be more precise, Lyon.”

“Lyon? Why does that ring a bell?” Vance asked.

“It’s the HQ of Interpol.”

“No shit, so we think that András had a link back to Interpol?”

“Yep. The number is now inactive and it seems to have been bought under an alias; however, we’re still crunching data and should get a solid lead soon.”

“Keep on it. If some corrupt Interpol clown is neck deep in this, I want to know about it. That it?”

Flash nodded. “I’ll get back to it and let you both know as soon as we get something more concrete.”

“Roger, and we’ll get out on the bikes sometime soon.”

“For sure.” Flash ambled out through the conference room’s door.

“Anything from the boys in the Ukraine?” Vance asked Chua.

“Negative. Aleks and Kurtz haven’t had anything to report. No sign of any suspect behavior in Svalyava.”

“Well, there was always the chance the Yakuza would get away. The guys from the castle have probably hightailed it back to Japan. What about the Abu Dhabi lead?”

“Interrogation report came in a few hours ago. Tariq wrung a few names out of him but nothing else.”

“Just names?”

“Clients. We’ll develop a plan for each one and put the authorities onto them. If additional action is required, I will bring them to you for sign-off.”

“And Shedir himself?”

“He could have identified Tariq, so he had an accident. It would seem that alcohol and swimming pools don’t mix.”

“A bit embarrassing for a Muslim to be drunk, isn’t it?” asked Vance.

“It must be,” Chua agreed. “The police are reporting it as a heart condition.”

“So where does that leave us now? Just Flash’s work on that phone?”

“That and Japan itself. Bishop and Saneh are due on the ground in the next few hours.”

“And their contact?”

“Ivan’s report is positive, it’s just…”

“What? You don’t trust his guy?”

“I’d like to say yes, but it’s too early to tell and we’re fast-tracking the process. He’s checking all the boxes but I can’t hang my hat on this one without more time developing him.”

“Your gut feeling?”

“You know me, I don’t run on feelings. But the facts are in his favor. He’s divorced, middle-aged, lost a family member to a stray Yakuza bullet, and seems genuinely interested in making a difference.”

“So you’re happy for Bishop to make contact when he arrives in Japan? Because if you’re not, we can wait.”

Chua studied his tablet for a few seconds. “It’s all good. Let’s make it happen.”

CHAPTER 37

NARITA INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT, TOKYO, JAPAN

Bishop left immigration with his backpack slung over one shoulder and joined the crowds of travelers moving in and out of Narita International Airport, one of the world’s busiest air terminals.

A few minutes later he was sitting in a taxi as it weaved through the dense Tokyo traffic. He checked his phone, the latest iPRIMAL model. He pressed his thumb against the touch screen and it unlocked the device. Without his biometric imprint it was just a normal smartphone. Even if someone hacked it they would not reveal its capability. He checked his message log, no new intel updates. There was a message from Saneh. She had traveled separately and was waiting at the hotel for him.

During the flight from Europe he had read through the intel package from the Bunker. He agreed with Chua’s assessment that the Japanese police officer Baiko looked like a perfect PRIMAL source. Ivan had recommended him; the former KGB spy and PRIMAL’s lead Blade was rarely off on his assessment of a man’s character.

The taxi driver pulled over to the curb and Bishop glanced out the window. A huge gray fortress of a building filled the skyline, the National Police Agency headquarters.

“Brian Wilson to see Inspector Baiko,” Bishop said as he approached the reception desk. He left his details with the female police officer and took a seat in the waiting area. He picked up a magazine and started flicking through the bright pictures. He paused on a photo of two Japanese women dressed in fluorescent colors with their faces painted to look like cartoon characters. He did not understand Japanese taste.

“Mr. Wilson?”

Bishop looked up. Baiko looked nothing like a disgruntled policeman. He had strong angular features, a short neat haircut, and a set of broad shoulders that filled his suit jacket.

Bishop stood and grasped the outstretched hand. “Inspector Hajime Baiko?”

“This is correct. Can I please see your identification?”

Bishop pulled his fake FBI contractor pass from his pocket and handed it over.

The Japanese officer handed it back to him with a nod. “We will head upstairs to my office.”

Bishop followed him through the security gates and into the elevator. They said nothing as they climbed up fourteen floors.

“Welcome to the organized crime section,” Baiko said as the doors opened. He led the way into a large open-plan office space. They stopped at a small kitchenette. “Would you like a coffee?”

“Sounds great, thanks.”

Baiko poured two black coffees from a percolator as Bishop surveyed the room. A line of enclosed offices and an open-plan area filled with cubicles covered the entire floor. Room for about thirty or forty people if it was full. Currently it was occupied by half a dozen officers. None paid any attention to his presence.

“This way.” Baiko handed him a hot mug and led him across to one of the individual offices. He offered Bishop a chair and took his place behind a sleek white desk. The office was immaculate. Bishop noted the complete absence of plaques or other career memorabilia. He dropped his backpack on the floor and took a seat.

“Your friend from the embassy said you are looking into the sex-trafficking industry,” Baiko said matter of factly. His English was accented but near fluent.

“Yes, the FBI’s asked me to track down a lead they uncovered in Europe.”

“They don’t do their own work anymore?”

“The Bureau often uses contractors to chase up leads. If this turns out to be solid, they’ll deploy a full team to work with you on the case.”

“But until then it is just you?”

“Yep, just me.”

“Interesting…and the lead?”

“Not much I’m afraid. Only two words to be precise. Mori-Kai.” Bishop watched Baiko’s face for any sign of recognition.

The police officer smirked. “Mori-Kai? Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“The Mori-Kai was one of Japan’s deadliest and most ruthless families.”

“Really? What else do you know?”

Baiko chuckled. “I know that now, they no longer exist. You’ve flown halfway around the world to chase ghosts, Mr. Wilson. The Mori-Kai family has been dead for hundreds of years.”

“We think they might be back, or at least someone is using their name. Possibly an element of the Yakuza.”

Baiko drank from his coffee, contemplating Bishop’s words. Then he placed the mug back on the desk. “This is possible. I did hear a rumor a while back of a new underground Yakuza element in the Osaka region. Perhaps this is your Mori-Kai.”

“The guys we’re looking for have been running an international kidnapping syndicate. Collecting women in Eastern Europe and shipping them out to clients across the world. We think they’re running the show out of Japan.”

“It is not like the Yakuza to spread their criminal activity internationally. Business, yes, but kidnapping? Very unlikely.”

“One of their bosses called himself Masateru. Does that help?”

“This is a very common name. Do you have a photo?”

Bishop unzipped his backpack and pulled out a printed photo. It was a shot the team had taken of the Japanese man Kurtz had pushed from the helicopter.

“I don’t have one of Masateru, but this is one of his thugs. We arrested him in Europe. He was trying to move twelve teenage girls out of the country.”

“Can you e-mail that to me?” Baiko pushed his card across the table and then logged in to his desktop.

“Sure.” Bishop used his iPRIMAL to send a digital version of the photo from an anonymous Gmail account.

A few seconds later the Japanese policeman was running the image through his databases.

“No matches,” he said after about thirty seconds of searching. “That is very unusual. I ran it against all of our databases. Even if he wasn’t listed on the criminal system he should appear on our immigration database. It is almost as if he doesn’t exist.”

“Could someone have scrubbed him from the system?”

“That is possible. The Yakuza have people in most levels of government. Usually they would not bother with such a small matter. They own plenty of judges, so why hide?”

“So this guy’s definitely well connected?”

“Maybe, but it is also possible that he is not Japanese. Perhaps he is Korean.”

Bishop shook his head. “No, he’s Japanese all right. I just need to find out where he’s from.”

“If your man is using the name Mori-Kai then he is most likely from the Osaka-Kobe area. If they exist, then that is where they will be, and only one organization will know about them.”

“Who’s that?”

“The Yamaguchi-gumi.”

“Yakuza?”

“The biggest. They are the ones that can tell you more.”

“Don’t you have a police contact I can speak to first?”

Baiko laughed and shook his head. “No, Mr. Wilson, if what you are looking for exists, you can’t rely on the police here to help you.”

“Even in the organized crime department?”

“Especially here. The Yakuza have people in every level of government. They are part of our life. We either learn to live with it or we end up dead.”

Bishop thought he spotted the slightest frustration on the policeman’s face, and then it was gone.

“Can you hook me up with the Yamaguchi?”

“I will mention it to the right people and they will know you are coming. If you catch the train to Kobe tomorrow they will find you.”

“Is that dangerous?”

“Of course, but the Yakuza will always give you a warning before killing you. Show respect for their ways and they will extend you that courtesy.”

“What if they’re the ones behind the Mori-Kai?”

“That is unlikely. The Yamaguchi are involved in many things, but selling women into slavery is not one of them. Strip clubs and prostitution are more their style. They tend to value honor more than profits.” Baiko got up from his chair and gestured for the door. “Now if you will excuse me, I have a meeting that I must attend. We must leave now if I am to see you out.”