Matt Drake 11 - The Ghost Ships of Arizona by David Leadbeater Page A

protégé—Grace—whilst seeking out the young woman she had wronged when she killed her father. That young woman was named Emiko and even Webb had been unable to find her.
    Mai Kitano though, he knew where she was right now. Which was a whole lot more than Matt Drake could say.
    Webb allowed a self-satisfied, smug grin stretch out his face. Then he tapped a pre-programmed number.
    “It’s me.”
    “Yes, sir?”
    “As soon as you can, kill Drake and send the US back to the dark ages.”
    “Yes, sir. That’s the plan.”
    “It’s the plan now, idiot. Now that I have given it to you. And not until then, do you understand?”
    “Of course, sir.”
    “Let’s beg to differ on that, shall we? Just get it done, man. And report. The sands of time are running out.”
    “There’s a shitload of sand out here, sir. Not sure it’s ever gonna run out.”
    Webb sighed, fighting off a moment’s despair. At least his uber-bodyguard, Beauregard Alain, could hold down a conversation. Not like this prehistoric freak.
    “Kill Drake,” he repeated as though addressing a deaf old man. “And use the Z-boxes. Do you understand?”
    “Yeah, I do.”
    Webb signed off, ignoring the final effrontery since his radar had just honed in on a new victim—the best yet. A tall, thin woman in a black pencil skirt who actually had her assistant following her, clutching cellphones, handbags, sheaves of paper and a small, yappy dog.
    Oh, that’s just perfect. This day ain’t so bad after all.
    Webb snapped her picture, trusting his powerful facial recognition software would lead him in the right direction later. The woman’s assistant, looking harassed and sweaty almost tumbled, eliciting a grunt of disgust from the tall woman. Webb felt an entire flood of pleasure as the thought of stalking her swept through his body.
    To hell with the Pythians, he thought. All I need is Saint Germain . . . and this.
    And Matt Drake dead, of course.
     

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
     
     
    Mai Kitano loved Tokyo, it was the one true home that filled her soul, but lately each homecoming had been worse than bittersweet. This one, she knew, might be her last, but the dire knowledge was offset by just one thing.
    Chika.
    The two sisters stood hugging in the street, Mai experiencing a moment of disbelief that she was able to stand so openly without fear of assault. That was taken care of now—though the final reckoning was coming. Dai Hibiki stood just behind her, an open smile on his face, and Grace stood off to the right, staring into the distance. Some brand new, bright red headphones covered her ears, the wire trailing down and attached to her equally new Android phone. Grace’s head was nodding to an unheard beat, mostly missing the happy reunion.
    Mai stepped back and allowed Hibiki a quick hug before grabbing hold of Chika once again. “We never seem to meet under happy circumstances. It is so good to see you!”
    Chika spoke into her shoulder. “And you. But what is happening now? Have you heard?”
    Mai took her sister by the hand and led her toward the house. “This looks nice. Have you two bought it?”
    “We’re renting. But, Mai?”
    “You should buy it. I mean, come on, you two should have your whole lives together.”
    Chika pulled away as they reached the middle of the garden. The sun flashed past her right shoulder—a hot, glaring light of interrogation.
    “The Yakuza are sending their best warrior to settle the score. It is probably not worth ignoring that, Mai.”
    The Japanese woman sighed. The road of her past stretched out behind her. The road of her future didn’t stretch anywhere—it lay broken at the edges, shrouded in drifting fogs. Since hooking up with Drake and the SPEAR team during the Blood King exploit her life had developed more meaning, rounding out all the rough edges and finally making sense. She had remained deadly, hard, yet surrounded by caring friends and colleagues, now whole. But life never let you live the way you