Azabu District, Minato Ward, Tokyo
For Parris, driving her car from West Tokyo to the Minato Ward at lunch hour would’ve been chaotic. So she drove from Hexagon and parked close to the Tobitakyu Station, a five minute walk from her apartment building. She caught the train, transferred to the subway to Akabanebashi Station where got into a taxi.
Going out to lunch wasn’t her style, what with all the news reports on E. coli and salmonella poisoning every few months back in the US. Had she been at work, she would’ve prepared a tuna-fish sandwich. This was second to her favorite, flying fish, if only it were readily available in Tokyo.
She had no plans to go into town. She was here only because of the designer vase filled with a dozen long-stem red roses that sat in her cubicle when she stopped by the office that morning to give Hashimoto her report. She got the hint that something was up the moment she stepped off the elevator to her floor. All of her colleagues smiled and giggled when they saw her. The sender’s name was Scott Ripley-it was a code to let her know that a fellow operative wanted to meet with her.
She wondered why Levickis didn’t inform her of this, and it made her leery about being followed-this, coupled with the unsettling feeling she got when she passed Valerik at the entrance to the parking lot earlier. The advantage of being in a city like Tokyo was that the subways were a surveillance nightmare. With thousands of people commuting by the hour, it would be very easy for Parris to lose anyone that followed her, so long as she avoided being captured by the closed-circuit cameras that were found throughout the city. Throughout the trip she did not spot anyone suspicious.
While Parris was driven through the Azabu District, she took out her compact, looked in the mirror to make sure that her make-up and headband covered up her facial bruises. There was nothing to worry about.
The narrow street they drove on had a tan-colored stone wall on one side. The driver turned into the open-gate entrance where the name International Tea House was stapled on the wall next to the gate, in both Japanese characters, and also in English underneath them. Beyond the gate, Parris saw the two-story stone mansion. The building was obscured from the street by several different trees, as the other homes were. The number of trees surrounding the place ensured privacy from anyone on the outside. She thanked the driver while she handed him a few bills, and got out of the cab. She closed the door, opened up her umbrella against the light rain that had started to fall. She turned towards the double doors to the mansion, about ten feet away.
She was a bit nervous meeting this mysterious Scott Ripley, the man who had sent her the flowers. Levickis told her earlier, that the person did not want to identify himself for personal reasons. But with the lavish surroundings, Parris got the hint that her meeting could possibly also be social.
One of the double doors opened and a short, plump young woman appeared, dressed in a cherry blazer and black pants. “Good afternoon, Dr. Parris. My name’s Sora.”
“Hello, Sora,” Parris replied as she closed her umbrella and walked quickly past her. What is it with these bright cherry blazers? They’re so out of place.
Parris came to a carpeted hallway with some doors on either side. Not knowing where to go to next, she stopped.
“Mr. Ripley’s waiting for you in the dining room. It’s the first set of double doors to your left. I’ll take your umbrella for you.”
“Thanks.” Parris handed Sora her umbrella. She would later check it for any tracking devices. If it was bugged she would conveniently forget it in the cab on her way back to Akabanebashi Station.
She heard a set of rhythmic chords on a piano from inside the room she was headed to. As she opened the doors, the chords grew to a crescendo and then diminished. Parris thought that this was the cue for an operatic singer to join in, but she only saw a pianist in front of a baby grand piano. She closed the doors quietly so as not to disturb the player who had his back to her.
Parris looked around the room. It had high ceilings, about thirteen feet high, and the floor was hardwood. In one corner a fifteen inch television was turned on and muted. There was also a small wooden coffee table and two chairs with armrests. The furniture looked European. She felt the television set was out of place. Where’s Ripley?
The pianist then stopped abruptly, as though he was in error. Parris looked at him as he played the same section over. Again, he stopped.
“Fuck!” Parris heard the pianist say. He can’t be an employee. The pianist appeared to notice her and glanced over his shoulder.
“Hey, there.”
Parris slightly tilted her head to the side. “Mr. Ripley?”
“You’re talking to him. Any trouble finding the place?”
“No. It was a bit out of the way for me, but not much trouble getting here.”
“Good. What kind of tea would you like?”
Instead of answering, she continued to stare at him as she approached him slowly. That voice, should I know him? The melodious texture of his voice numbed her mind.
“Dr. Parris,” he said a bit louder. He continued to play, but more quietly.
“Yes,” she replied as she swung her purse over her shoulder.
“Your tea? They have all kinds.”
Oh what the hell, just say anything. “Jasmine.”
“Will that be Oolong Jasmine Tea or Green Tea with Jasmine bulbs?” came a voice. Parris turned around and saw Sora smiling in the doorway.
“I’ll have the Oolong.”
“And I’ll have the Earl Grey Pot de Creme,” said the pianist. Sora bowed and then left, closing the doors behind her.
The man stopped playing, swung around in his swivel chair to face her, and stood. Parris felt a cold shiver ripple through her, and she swore that her heart rate tripled. It’s him. What’s his face? The man from Germany who claimed to be in Washington on business when she met him at Max’s Pub in DuPont Circle in D.C. almost two years ago. Only now, he didn’t have a German accent, nor the blonde, shoulder-length hair. The man in front of her had trimmed, auburn hair. He was still clean-shaven and had the same square jaw.
She walked to him and stopped less than an arm’s length from him, close enough to smell his cologne. Lord, he’s still wearing the same cologne. “Who are you?”
“The name’s Ridley Fox, and yes, that’s my real name. But you can call me Ridley.” Fox smiled and extended his hand. “It’s nice to see you again, Nita.”
Parris’s kept her hands to her side. “What are you doing here?”
Fox lowered his hand. “Hoping to find the same thing you’re looking for.”
“Really? And what do you know about what I’m looking for?”
“Your partner, Tomas Levickis, ran a database search on a man I’m after. You saw him at Hexagon.”
Parris paused. Her heart was still racing but she managed to bring it under control as she looked into his clear, hazel eyes. She sighed with a smirk. “Really?”
“The Boeisho is trying to keep tabs on me. You don’t have to worry. I already checked the surroundings, there’s no sign of them.”
She looked back up at Fox and went to smack him but he caught her wrist. Damn, he has quick reflexes.
“As I said, it’s nice to see you again, Dr. Parris.” She kicked him in his left shin. Fox dropped down on one knee. “Jesus, woman! What’s gotten into you?”
Parris turned around and stormed away for a few steps, paused, and then walked back to him with gnashing teeth.
“Nice to see you too, Ridley,” she said with a menacing emphasis on his name. “You can’t imagine how long I’ve been waiting to do that. Tell me, Ridley, was it fun? Toying with me the way you did?”
Fox shook his head. “I didn’t mean for that to happen, it just did.”
“Is that all you have to say? You stood me up? Sure, it can happen. Guess what? After I waited on you for almost two hours. I left, only to be carjacked and beaten up at gunpoint on my way home. Do you know how many weeks of counseling I had to go through?”
“I was called on assignment. I-”
“I’ve had my emotions messed with in the past by other men, long before I was part of any agency. You had a responsibility then, as you do now, and trying to get involved with me was very irresponsible. Now get up, I didn’t kick you that hard.”
“I beg to differ.”
Parris didn’t reply.
“Great. Of all the women I could’ve met, it had to be the one who holds grudges,” muttered Fox.
“I heard that. And yes, I can hold a grudge.”
“It was an observation.”
“Sure, fine, whatever.” Parris looked over the table that was set for both of them. On it was a nice little bonsai plant, a lit candle, and some cutlery on a white cloth napkin. She looked back, over in the corner where the television was, and only then did she notice what was on. It looked like Curly, Larry, and Moe. She looked at Fox in bewilderment. “ The Three Stooges? ”
“I kind of like that show, all the old shows actually. The Avengers comes on later, and oh, you just missed I-Spy,” Fox said as he took a few steps.
“So this is how you spend your free time when there aren’t any women to toy with? Watching reruns?”
“I’m actually quite diverse,” Fox said with a Barbadian accent.
If that was a way for him to get her attention, he just got it.
“Yeah, and trying to play the piano too, I noticed.”
“Hey, I wish I had the time to play the piano and the violin as much as I did when I was younger,” continued Fox without the accent.
“So, you’re an amateur musician.”
“What do you think so far?”
“I can’t say. I wasn’t really paying attention.”
Fox paused and shrugged his shoulders with a slight chuckle as though his feelings were hurt.
I couldn’t care less for how he felt.
Fox walked back to the piano, sat down, and played a different tune. It was more thunderous and definitely less romantic and gentle than what he had played before. Parris wasn’t a connoisseur of modern piano music, but she was sure she’d never heard that piece. She walked over to the back of the baby grand. “Why’d you do that?”
Fox looked up, but not enough for her to see below his eyes. They had lost some of their warmth. “Do what?”
“Change tunes.”
“Oh, you noticed?” Fox’s eyes disappeared as he lowered his head. “I thought you weren’t paying attention.”
“Not entirely.” She advanced two steps along the side of the baby grand and stopped. “But I prefer it to what you’re playing now.”
“You could’ve fooled me. I thought that was your way of telling me that I suck.”
“I wasn’t. I…I’m just not familiar with classical music. Who composed it?”
“Some noteworthy composer,” Fox answered. “We all have ways of dealing with stress and our emotions. Some people swing a golf club, others go to the firing range, as for me, I’ll play an instrument.”
Parris took a step closer. She wanted to see into his eyes. She watched as he kept playing, although now, it was more like he was banging on the keyboard. She wouldn’t yell above the piano. But a few moments later, he seemed to calm down. What he played now almost sounded like what he played earlier. Was this his way of reaching out to her? My God, is he playing this to impress me? He looked up at her again and she felt a dryness at the back of her throat that made her immediately look away from him.
The double doors opened and both Sora and a young man came in. Perfect timing. The young man carried two plates and Sora had a tray containing two small teapots with hot water, two separate tea balls beside each, and a carafe of cold water.
“Hello, Dr. Parris,” said the young man as he stopped and bowed in front of her. “I’m Yoshirou.”
“Hello.” Parris bowed, not knowing what else to do.
“How about some curried chicken roti?” asked Fox. “That’s still your favorite, isn’t it?
Oh my gosh, he remembered. Parris watched as Yoshirou set the table. “What’s going on here?”
Fox had a half smile and he ended his rendition with a few gentle chords. “Lunch.”
“It seems out of place.”
“I know it seems weird finding West Indian cuisine here, especially at a tea house. But I’m good friends with the owner of this particular franchise and I put in a special request.”
Yoshirou assisted Parris with her chair as she sat down facing the television. He helped Fox to his seat while Sora placed the small tea pots and cups, the Oolong Jasmine tea bulb for Parris, and the Earl Grey Pot de Creme for Fox.
Fox and Parris thanked them both and the two waiters retreated to the door.
Fox looked up at Parris with the fork in his hand. “Bon appetite.”
“Thank you. But I know you didn’t travel all this way to apologize and pamper me with this meal. So, where were we?”
“As I said, I’m following a lead.”
“Really, and abusing The Company’s budget by sending me expensive flowers and reserving this place. Tomas could’ve taken any messages for me. So how did you manage to pull this one off?”
“I’m a member. As I said before I’m good friends with the owner,” said Fox as they both dropped the bulbs in their individual tea pots.
“Bet you are.”
“Yeah, it’s a pretty nice concept they have. They’ve got these home-type establishments here in Tokyo, London, Amsterdam, Cairo, New York, and also Hong-Kong. I’m thinking of opening one in Montreal, my hometown.”
“Oh really?”
“Is that a work-related accident by the way?”
Parris’s hands shot up to her headband. Was the Band-Aid showing? She felt around. No, it wasn’t.
“How did you know that?”
Fox sliced into the roti shell with his knife. “I didn’t. That was, of course, until you reacted the way you did.”
Parris sighed in embarrassment. “Yes, I was attacked at work yesterday morning.”
“Attacked?”
“Yes.”
“By who?”
“One of my subjects. The new mind-control technique Hexagon has developed didn’t go too well.”
“Any idea what went wrong?”
“Not yet, but it appears we’ll stick to the original drug we used before. Ironically, it’s been named Clarity.”
“How does it work?”
“By blocking the RAS’s normal function, along with the amygdala and hypothalamus.”
Fox crossed his legs and held his chin in his palm and tapped his lips with his finger as he chewed. “The RAS?”
“Yes. It’s the Reticular Activation System responsible for screening unnecessary info into the brain.”
There was a moment’s silence and then Fox looked back at Parris as she began to eat. “Right.”
“What’s wrong?”
“No, it’s nothing. It’s just that biology isn’t my forte.”
I guess you won’t be impersonating a scientist anytime soon. “Anyway, in order for us to effectively brainwash our subjects, we have to disrupt the reasoning, personality, and drive regions of the brain.”
“Yes, of course, in the hindbrain,” said Fox.
“No,” said Parris. “That would disrupt their sight. Personality’s found in the forebrain and human drives are in the thalamus. With those areas disrupted, the subjects are then more susceptible to suggestion. That’s where our device comes into play.”
“Which device?”
Parris told him about the chair and its function. “Before we developed the latest variation of the drug, patients would have to undergo several sessions with the chair before they were completely brainwashed. We were hoping to reduce that amount with the latest version.”
Parris then cleared her throat. “Now, tell me more about the man you’re tracking.”
Fox poured himself a glass of water and poured a glass for Parris. “His name’s Valerik and he’s raised a few red flags since you spotted him yesterday morning. A little over a day ago, a temporary CDC compound in southern Uganda was attacked. The main suspects may be members of an organization called the Arms of Ares. Have you ever heard of them?”
“Of course. Everyone’s watching out for them. The CIA, FBI, Homeland Security, you name it.”
“They’ve recently raised the bar on bio-warfare. They’ve been researching a very deadly microbe.”
“What type of microbe?”
“It’s called Pandora.” Fox took a sip of water. “Sound familiar?”
“Yes. I was a weapons analyst back in the days the Defense Department was researching it. But wasn’t that project cancelled several years ago?”
“It turns out that some people didn’t want that. Ares is trying to market Pandora. I managed to stop them from selling it to Sudanese government officials who were going to use Darfurian locals as guinea pigs. But we believe that Valerik has obtained samples of Pandora and has given them to this man.”
Fox reached into the blazer that hung on his chair and pulled out a rolled-up legal-sized brown envelope. He handed it to Parris. She opened it and removed the pictures.
“I believe you’re well acquainted with him?”
Parris stared briefly at the picture. “Of course. He’s my boss.”
“Small world, isn’t it? Several years ago he was believed to have helped the Soviets develop a brainwashing program. Today he’s a cult leader. I’ve been informed that the Boeisho has been keeping close watch on his cult. Three of their agents infiltrated the group. Lately, they’ve all gone missing.”
She stared at the photo. “If he’s involved, then it’s possible that all of our test subjects who’ve been given the drug could be recruited as cult members. They’d be easy, vulnerable targets. All this time I thought this talk of a cult was part of the experiment.”
“It’s very real. Your experiments were nothing more than a front.”
Parris raised a hand to cover her mouth. “Oh, Lord.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself, Doctor. You would’ve found out sooner or later. Valerik’s picture’s there as well.”
Parris took out his photograph. “Yeah, I saw him yesterday as I was leaving Hashimoto’s office. He didn’t look too friendly. I also passed him on my way to work this morning.”
“He has a history. He went off the CIA’s radar several years ago-”
“During the Cold War, only to resurface now. Yeah, I’ve learned that much from Tomas. If he stole samples of Pandora for Hashimoto, then he could easily hide it at Hexagon.” Parris poured herself a cup of tea. She took out a navy blue handmade table napkin with yellow frilled borders. She placed it on the corner of the table, when suddenly her jaw dropped and she looked past Fox.
“What’s wrong?” asked Fox.
Parris leapt from her chair and dashed over to the television in a few long strides. She turned up the volume-Valerik’s picture was on the screen. She heard Fox’s chair sliding in the background and heard him approach. She couldn’t understand what was being said, but seeing Valerik’s picture could only mean bad news. Her thoughts were later confirmed when a multi-car pile-up on a highway was shown.
She glanced over at Fox before looking back at the television. “What just happened?”
“For starters, he’s dead.”
Parris rolled her eyes. “Now tell me something I couldn’t have guessed for myself.”
“An eye-witness claimed that his body was dropped from an overpass into oncoming traffic late this morning, which resulted in the pile-up.”
“Any idea who did this?”
“My guess is someone who couldn’t stand him, considering the way he was disposed of.”
“You mean, you don’t know.”
Fox gestured to the television. “Hey, I’m seeing this for the first time like you. We’re bound to find out more later on.”
The news report ended. They both returned to the table.
Parris continued to eat and then wiped off the corner of her mouth with the table napkin. “So, Valerik’s dead. We have an idea of who his allies were. We’re just unsure of his enemies.”
“There’s something else I should add. A few members of the Boeisho met me at the airport. Their Head of Section was the one who briefed me on what happened in Chechnya. But just before that, someone else ran into me at the airport and slipped me a note that said not to trust them. And that he’d contact me later.”
Parris sipped her tea as Fox recounted everything Tanaka had told him. “Do you think the Boeisho could’ve killed Valerik?”
“They could’ve, but I doubt they would’ve disposed of him in such a manner. Whoever did this wanted an audience, or to send a message to his colleagues.” Fox finished his roti and drank the rest of his water. “Like Ares.”
“You think they’re here?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised. They’re pretty resourceful. And they seem to be getting better at it. I’m surprised they were able to track him down this quickly. Hopefully, my informant can tell me more.”
“I’d be careful.” Parris held a finger to her lip briefly and then pointed it at Fox. “We don’t know anything about this informant. He said you can’t trust the Boeisho. They were expecting you and knew when and where to meet you, which means that someone tipped them off. And for this informant to know your whereabouts could mean that someone tipped him off also.”
“If he’s Boeisho, and let’s just say he is for argument’s sake, he’d have his channels. I doubt that he’s working alone.”
“And what if he’s one of Hashimoto’s men? Tanaka told you that he lost touch with his three agents. Who’s to say that your informant isn’t one of Hashimoto’s brainwashed cult members? I know I wasn’t involved in brainwashing all of them, but you have to still consider the possibility.”
Fox leaned over the table and looked Parris in the eye. “I realize that. But he has something to share with me. And with Valerik dead, it’s all we have to go on right now. If someone’s lying, then I’ll know soon enough.”
Parris copied Fox’s actions and leaned in herself. “In that case, I’m coming with you to meet him, the next time he contacts you.”
Fox dropped his head on a slant and raised an eyebrow. “Say what?”
“You heard what I said.”
“He asked for me. That means I should go alone.”
“So what. I’ll hide. If he’s one of Hashimoto’s men, chances are I’ve seen him around Hexagon.”
“And if he’s not, you risk blowing your cover.”
“I’ll be careful.”
“You’d be doing just that…by not showing up. You don’t need to attract attention to yourself. You’re NOC, remember?”
“I’m glad to hear you say that. I guess that’s why you sent me a boat-size bouquet of roses to my workplace?”
“Do you always have to have the last word?”
Parris got up and leaned on the table towards Fox with outstretched arms, eyes narrowed. “I do, considering I wasn’t aware you were put in charge.”
Fox stood up and duplicated Parris’s actions. “It’s not a matter of who’s in charge of what. It’s about the Boeisho not knowing about you, and its best that we keep it that way. I’ve done exceptionally well so far.”
“You think so?”
“Are you always this argumentative?”
“When I don’t agree with something, I’ll damn well let you know it. But if you want to go it alone, fine. You’re better off letting Tomas hook you up with one of his gadgets, preferably a mini video camera that can pin to your jacket. At least that way he can run a search on your informant. It’s the same way we caught Valerik’s image. Is that too much to ask?”
Fox looked away from Parris for a few seconds, to the television which now showed a chewing gum commercial.
“No,” he said and then looked back at Parris. “It isn’t.”
There, at least we actually reached a compromise. She couldn’t believe it. Just as they were starting to warm up again he had to insult her like this. Who’s he to tell me that I shouldn’t come? This wasn’t working, it was an unavoidable mistake that they wound up working together in the first place. She had to get away from him. Parris looked at her watch and stood up from the table. She grabbed her purse from the back of the chair as though she were in a hurry. “I have to go.”
Fox called out as she headed towards the door. “Don’t get me wrong, Dr. Parris. I just don’t want to see your obituary on the evening news.”
That did it. She turned around, and walked towards him slowly while she stared him straight in the eyes. “You expect me to get hurt, don’t you?”
“To be blunt, you already have been.”
“I’m quite capable of taking care of myself. I’ve learned that from the past, so I don’t need a bodyguard.”
She turned and walked back to the door. “You’ve found me so I assume that you can find Tomas. But let me warn you, he’s not as sociable as I am.”
Fox watched her disappear. He expected to hear the door slam, but she didn’t do that. She was feisty, irrational, not to mention cynical and paranoid, and maybe she was better off on her own. He would later get in touch with Tomas, but not because Parris had suggested it. He always thought one way of dealing with unpleasant people was to do or say the opposite of what they would expect. Parris didn’t expect him to agree with her on meeting Levickis, so he agreed.
It was the same way he dealt with Jessica. Always act unpredictably, that always calmed her down. He remembered when he had proposed to her. They had an argument the night before about how he put his life on the line all the time and that it wouldn’t be conducive to their relationship. He couldn’t forget the shock and delight on her face when he had walked into her workplace on her lunch break the next day, dressed in army fatigues with a large garbage bag. Then in full view of all of her colleagues, he had stripped down to his boxer briefs and bagged his fatigues telling her that he’s throwing it all away. Never mind the commotion that it caused, even the security guards that arrived didn’t bother to stop him. And that’s when he got down on one knee and showed her the engagement ring.
Before he realized it, something rolled from his eye and down his left cheek. He immediately wiped away the tear. Why the fuck is this happening? I’ve scarred her, and it has changed her life forever. Now she’s involved in a life that I was ready to leave.
His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. He hid his face from Sora. “We’re done. Can you please call me a taxi?”
“Yes, Mr. Ripley. By the way, someone dropped this off for you.” She walked up to him and handed him a letter-sized envelope.
Fox took the envelope while covering his eyes. “Thanks.”
She bowed and as she turned to walk out the door, she paused and looked back at him. “Is everything all right?”
“I’m fine. Thanks for being concerned. I just need to be alone for a bit.”
When she left, Fox tore open the sealed envelope and took out the paper that was inside. The handwritten note read, Koishikawa Korakuen Gardens tonight at 8:00 PM. I’ll carry a brown paper bag and will pass the Weeping Cherries.
Fox held the paper over the open flame on the table. He let the fire consume it until it reached his fingers, and then he blew it out. He dropped the blackened pieces onto his lunch plate.
This guy knew Fox better than he’d thought. How’d he know to look for me here? He had been certain no one had followed him and he had personally swept the premises for bugs or any other listening devices. The place was secure, but whoever this guy was, he was top notch, and if he was on the run from the Boeisho, it would explain why he’d been able to avoid them.
With that taken care of, his attention focused on the meal. Where else could one get a foreign meal prepared the right way on such short notice? He reached into his wallet and took out a wad of bills. He had already run out of Japanese currency. The last cab driver didn’t complain when Fox gave him two hundred dollars for dropping him off at the mall and then picking him up ten minutes later from another entrance in his new disguise. Oh, what the hell.
He tore out a few American bills and tossed them on the table, right beside Dr. Parris’s table napkin. Well, how about that-she forgot her own table napkin. She’s too steamed. Better to wait and give it back to her later when she’s cooled off. With West Indian women, it was always about timing. But Parris, as he now learned, was a lot more unpredictable.
He folded it and placed it into the breast pocket of his blazer. He checked the tip on the table. Three fifties, was that enough? Fox tore out a few more bills from his wallet. There, an extra hundred should make them happy. No need to piss anyone else off today.