No Fortunate Son A Pike Logan Thriller

27

 

 

 

 

They hit the street and Jennifer asked, “So what did you get? What’s on the napkin?”

 

“The landlord. He said this guy might have a forwarding address. I doubt it because McFadden’s been there for over a year. And he wasn’t the only tenant. There’s been a revolving door in there since Braden stayed. But it’s worth a shot.”

 

They retraced their steps, walking back into the light of the tourist area. She asked, “Where is the landlord?”

 

“Believe it or not, pretty close. Down someplace in a Chinatown section about a half mile from here. He gave me a restaurant to look for, and an alley next to it. I guess the landlord is some foreign expat. He didn’t know if he was Vietnamese, Chinese, or something else. Only that he was Asian. The whole thing is shady.”

 

They walked back to the center of Piccadilly Circus, passing Ripley’s again, and Pike said, “Why’d you say that about beating the crap out of him? Asking as if I would like it? You still don’t trust me, do you?”

 

She looked up at him to see if he was just pressing her buttons and realized he was serious. She said, “Yes, I do. Completely.”

 

“You say that, but you still question. It’s like you only want part of me. The good part. But the world doesn’t work that way. I’ve come a long way from when we first met, but I’m not going to ask politely to get Kylie back.”

 

“I know. I’m okay with the necessary violence. I really am.”

 

“But you think what I do is unnecessary?”

 

She walked a little bit, thinking of the mirror, then said, “I used to. But not now. I’m not sure what I believe anymore. You say you’ve come a long way, but maybe it’s the opposite, and I’m the one changing. Does it matter?”

 

He said, “It does to me.” He walked in silence for a minute, then said, “Heather never saw me in operations. She only saw the good. She had no idea what I’ve done in the name of national security. I sometimes wonder what she would have thought if she had. I used to lie in bed at night, hearing her talk about how proud she was of me, and I felt a little dirty. She thought the world was split neatly into black and white, but it’s not.”

 

Jennifer stopped walking, getting his attention. He turned to her and she said, “I never want to hear that again. She loved you for what you were. What you are. You. Nothing more. And certainly nothing less. She saw the man. Warts and all. I’ve seen the same. And I feel the same way.”

 

He held her eyes, trying to determine if it was just talk. He felt the honesty behind her words and said, “Getting Kylie home is going to be violent. It won’t be clean. You good with that? Because I can’t have you holding back based on some sense of morality for a world that doesn’t exist.”

 

She thought about the mirror again and said, “I know. I’ve been to that world. I’m good with it. I mean really good.”

 

He looked at her a moment longer, then started walking. “Okay. Let’s go find Kylie.”

 

She smiled, and in a stilted Yoda voice said, “Finding her good would be.”

 

He laughed. “You’ve got a few miles left before I make you a Jedi.”

 

They walked down Wardour Street and entered a section full of Asian restaurants. He pulled out the napkin and said, “Okay, we’re in the right area. Now keep an eye out for Little Wu Chinese Restaurant. It should be close.”

 

She pointed to the left and said, “That’s it right there.”

 

He said, “Holy shit. That was easy.”

 

He walked to an alley right next to the restaurant. A sign with Chinese lettering underneath indicated it was called Dansey Place. “This is it. Should be straight back.”

 

She peered down the alley, cloyingly small, full of trash cans and other refuse. She said, “Wow. That doesn’t look safe.”

 

“Well, it is what it is.”

 

He entered the alley without another word, walking past the backs of restaurants, Asian men sitting on steps and smoking, glaring at the intrusion away from the tourist area.

 

He counted doors and then pointed at one, right next to a man in a white apron sitting on a stoop. “That’s it.”

 

The man said, “Who you look for?”

 

“A Mr. Ling. A landlord.”

 

The man said, “He no here. Go away.”

 

Pike said, “I’ll be the judge of that.”

 

The man stood, and Pike said nothing, letting the implied consequences flow out by his gaze alone. The man sat back down, saying, “He no here.”

 

They mounted the stairs and the man said, “He no buy girls like her.” He cackled and said, “But I know who will.”

 

Pike turned around, bristling with venom. Jennifer put a hand on his arm and said, “Kylie. Nothing more. Let it go.”

 

Pike did, entering a small hallway. He read his napkin again and said, “Last door on the left.” They walked to the end of the hall, seeing nobody. The door had frosted glass with SHINTO LLC stenciled on it. Pike knocked but got no response. He knocked again and waited. When nobody appeared, he pulled out a lockpick kit and said, “Take security.”

 

Without a word, Jennifer went back the way they’d come, pausing between the last two hallway doors, with an eye on the entrance. She felt the adrenaline rise and considered how she’d stop anyone from entering. Prevent them from seeing Pike. The tension mounted until it was almost unbearable, making her want to shout down the hallway and ask if Pike was building the lock from the ground up.

 

She heard a whistle from him and raced back down the hallway. She said, “What the hell were you doing? Filing a key from an imprint?”

 

He opened the door and said, “I’m rusty. Sorry.”

 

They found a room with a utilitarian metal desk and at least a dozen file cabinets. Clearly, Mr. Ling did more than just landlord. Pike said, “Jesus. We don’t have the time for this.”

 

Jennifer said, “It’s got to be in some order. Ignore anything that doesn’t have the address on it.”

 

Pike pulled open the first cabinet and the door flew open.

 

Jennifer whirled at the noise and saw two men, both with a black three-day growth of beard. One had a receding hairline and a tangle of long hair in a ponytail; the other had buckteeth that made him look as if he were wearing novelty dentures. Overbite pulled out a pistol, and she saw the suppressor on the barrel.

 

Not local thugs.

 

 

 

 

 

28

 

 

 

 

Overbite trained the weapon on Pike and said, “Hands up. No movement.”

 

The accent was hard to place, but it wasn’t from the UK. Somewhere from Eastern Europe.

 

Pike did as he asked, moving slow and deliberate. Behind the two men, the Asian from outside entered with a smirk on his face.

 

Pike said, “Hey, wait. This isn’t what it looks like. We aren’t stealing anything. We’re just trying to locate a lost friend.”

 

Overbite said, “I don’t give a shit what you’re doing. I’m just happy you broke in here. Makes my job of killing you that much easier for the police investigation.”

 

Jennifer said, “Wait, wait. We haven’t done anything. This is just a misunderstanding.”

 

The Asian said, “Kill him. Sell her. I split the profits with you.”

 

Pike closed the distance to them, getting in range of the pistol. He said, “You don’t want to do this. You’re making a mistake.”

 

Overbite said, “You have one chance to live. One question. And one answer. You answer correctly, and you get to walk out of here. You don’t, and you’re dead.”

 

Hands raised, Pike said, “What is it? I’ve got nothing to hide.”

 

“Besides you, who knows about Bulgari in Paris?”

 

Jennifer heard the words and thought she was in a bad TV movie. What in the world is he talking about?

 

The man continued, “You tell me the leak, and you can walk. Otherwise, you’ll die. And I don’t mean quietly.”

 

Pike’s eyes watered, his voice pathetic, his hands trembling. “Please, please, don’t harm us. I can’t kill both of you. Without help, I’m no threat.”

 

The man with the pistol looked confused by his words, but Jennifer knew exactly what Pike meant. She floated forward, closing the distance to Ponytail, ignoring the Asian, waiting on the move.

 

Overbite said, “Get on your knees.” He motioned to the other man and said, “Get her under control.”

 

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