The Aquitaine Armor (A Chyna Stone Adventure Book 5) Page 8

  “Hai, Oji-san,” she relented.

  Ichita hung up without another word then turned to Tatsuya.

  “Secure the collection,” he said gravely. “She is a lot closer than Keiko thinks; our failure is in the fact that we have no idea how close.”

  ***

  Chyna fished out her phone from her pocket and pressed the speed dial for Agent Anthony Stewart, FBI. When the call was connected, she heard his familiar voice and was overcome with the usual effect of peace and a sense of relief.

  “Hey, Babe,” he said, softly. “I haven’t heard from you in a while; how’ve you been?”

  “Doing okay, Babe,” Chyna replied. “Finally getting to the bottom of this whole mystery, it seems.”

  “You need some help?”

  “I sure do.”

  “Shoot.”

  “We think a cache of stolen artifacts, including the Aquitaine Armor, was shipped to a buyer in Japan in 1978. I’m not comfortable trying to investigate this on our own any further, especially over there; so I’d like to involve Interpol at this stage.”

  “That’s a good idea. You want me to call someone over there?”

  “Yeah. We’re in Bordeaux with Sir Robert now so we can get there if they need us to, but otherwise, I think we have all the documentation they will need.”

  “Alright, let me make a phone call and I’ll get back to you.”

  “Thanks, Tony,” Chyna said, hesitantly hanging up the phone.

  There was so much more she wanted to say to him at that moment, but she swallowed every word of it. This was not the time or the place. When she turned back to the men seated at the table, it seemed that everyone’s part of the plan had been successfully played.

  Evan was on his way to Bordeaux, having been summoned to the vineyard by his nephew under the pretense of planning a huge launch party for the new wine in the wake of a substantial order from an international wine wholesaler.

  Oscar had gotten a reply from Akira to the question he had posted the night before, and it seemed that the hacker had come through with a host of additional information that they needed. It was a commercial shipping invoice referencing the document numbers that they had previously received.

  “You do realize what this means, right?” Oscar asked them, rhetorically. “This confirms that what we have is a Bill of Lading for a shipping container. This invoice identifies the shipper and the receiver and the declared value of every piece that was in that container. It’s damning evidence; I doubt we’ll need anything more.”

  “I’m glad for that,” Chyna said, picking up her glass and sitting back in her chair.

  ***

  It didn’t take Evan a full two hours to get to Bordeaux–Mérignac Airport from London on the Angevin Foundation private jet. Robert had opted to have the plane made ready quickly rather than bother with trying to find a commercial flight. He didn’t want to alarm Evan unnecessarily, but he opted for the speed of the jet and chose to contain Evan’s anxiety with his cover story and by not telling him that Chyna and Oscar were there with him.

  When Evan arrived at Robert’s table in the garden, he was visibly shocked to see the Found History team seated there with his nephew. He quickly contained his look of surprise and annoyance and greeted them all as cordially as he could. It was then clear that he assumed they were there to question Robert further or better yet to collect their payment and go away because he went to the bar and started to help himself to a drink. Though when Robert didn’t stop him from pouring his usual gin and tonic, he realized he wasn’t there to taste the new wine and something else was certainly up.

  “So,” he started nervously, “how can I be of assistance, Robert?”

  “Well, I got you here under less than honorable pretenses, Evan, but I’m just going to get right to the point now,” Robert started. “I’d like you to take a look at these papers and tell me what part you played in this whole thing.”

  Robert stood up and walked around the table, placing the documents in front of his uncle and discreetly waving his hand to signal to the two bodyguards that were watching from a distance to move in closer.

  Evan slowly browsed through the papers in front of him and then sat back in the chair with a sigh.

  “I shouldn’t have expected to get away with this forever, although I honestly hoped that I would.”

  “What happened here, Evan? And, please don’t bullshit me. I’m sure you realize that we know more than you thought we did,” Robert said.

  Chyna and Oscar sat silently waiting. They both agreed that it wasn’t their place to insert themselves in the confrontation. In fact, they had asked to be excused from the discussion, but Robert had refused. He wanted them there to hear the story first- hand and back him up in case Evan tried to get himself out of being implicated as a major player in the heists.

  “Miyako Nagasaki,” was all Evan could say by the time he pushed the papers away from him.

  “What?” Chyna blurted out.

  “That was the curator’s name; Miyako Nagasaki,” he explained further.

  “Tell us everything,” Robert insisted.

  “You were just a kid when everything went pear-shaped for us, Robert. In the early seventies, England wasn’t the best place for our kind of people. There was a labor revolution going on, the brink of an economic collapse. Poverty was rampant, jobs were scarce and our bank accounts were all shrinking with the rising cost of everything. Your father didn’t seem too worried though; certainly not nearly as worried as he should have been, but then again he wasn’t the one who was facing the possibility of losing their last source of income. Twenty-four thousand pounds a year may not sound like much now, which it isn’t, but back then my business, my mortgage, everything was at stake.

  “I got desperate, very desperate; then one afternoon, Miyako came to my office. I didn’t know who she was, but she introduced herself as a buyer for her brother’s corporation and that she was interested in acquiring several unique European pieces for his extensive collection. She said that if I helped her to identify and procure antiques, she would pay me the standard commissions. Everything seemed legit and I just assumed she had identified me because of my design background and, of course, my connections. It was plausible because I did know every single noble family that was suffering financially at the time.”

  “How would you know that, Evan?” Robert asked sternly.

  “Again, you were just a baby at the time, Robert, but it was easy to notice those who closed too many of the estate houses and sent their staff home; others who hid in the country and missed the London social season altogether, sold their London houses for next to nothing. I went to every one of them and brokered deals for whatever items Miyako saw and liked. I arranged the meetings to view the collections; she made her selections and purchased them. I arranged the transportation to her freight forwarder and received my cut.”

  “Didn’t you realize that the things she liked were turning up stolen or missing after she had selected them?” Oscar asked.

  “You see that’s just it. At the beginning, nothing she selected was stolen; other items went missing, though, months after she would buy from the estate.”

  “You eventually put it all together didn’t you?” Chyna concluded.

  “It took me a while; but yes, I did, and I confronted her about it. She didn’t deny a thing, she just offered me a million pounds to keep my mouth shut, keep making the introductions and shipping the items. That’s exactly what I did.”

  “Evan, I can’t believe you,” Robert said sadly, shaking his head in disbelief.

  “I had a family to support, Robert. Don’t judge me!”

  “Go on,” Chyna encouraged.

  “Well, it went on like that for three years. All the time they were steadily packing the shipping container that is mentioned in those papers. During the renovation at Dordogne, she called me to say that she had acquired everything she needed but was still looking for that one special piece; she wanted someth
ing that had very deep history attached to it. A showpiece, her coup de grace; she wanted something from the Montgomery estate.”

  “So you introduced her to Sir William,” Chyna said.

  “I did and I told her that I didn’t want to know about whatever she bought, stole or shipped from the place.”

  “I remember records of several paintings being sold at that time, mainly because they were very valuable, but father told me they had been payment for a debt and he never liked them, so the chance to recover the actual money was too good a chance to give up.”

  Chyna laughed sarcastically.

  “They were probably the alibi for getting in with your father and a chance to see the entire collection. When she got the job to catalog and display the antiques, she would have known exactly where the armor was and the extent of the security at the estate.”

  “She set you up from the inside,” Oscar added.

  “What did you do when the armor turned up stolen?” Robert asked Evan.

  “Nothing. I had taken her million pounds. I did let her know that I wouldn’t be working with her any further once the container left Southampton; she agreed to that and she didn’t call me again for a year. Since 1979, Miyako has called me every year to remind me of our agreement. I understood, by no uncertain terms, that she and whoever she worked for were very dangerous people.”

  “And recently?” Chyna asked and watched his face turn pale.

  “She let me know that you would be coming to ask about the stolen pieces and warned me to keep my mouth shut. Her daughter, Keiko, has been following you around since you first landed in London.”

  Chyna’s hand went to her forehead in a swift slap which caused all three men to look at her in surprise.

  “That’s who I keep seeing; she was at the airport and again at the gas station in Bristol.”

  “Call her,” Robert said sternly. “I want to hear what Keiko has to say.”

  ***

  The next morning, the house on the Bordeaux vineyard was full of high-level Interpol officers, led by Commander Lucas Moreau. Tony had given Chyna his contact in Lyon and when she had related the story to him, he had rushed to Sir Robert’s aid. He later revealed to them that Interpol had been investigating Nagasaki Oceanic and a related company called IchiCo in Tokyo for a few years on a barrage of international felonies, but had never been able to make anything stick. He expressed his surprise at the physical evidence as well as the two suspects they had produced in such a short time.

  Keiko had been particularly interesting as a suspect. Once she had realized that she was caught and the gig was basically up, she had turned coat and told them everything she knew. On one condition, of course: they could use her to bait the others and she would be held safely under maximum security and in solitary in France for the length of her sentence. After which, they would have to keep her in witness protection and far away from Japan.

  A few days later, Interpol agents gathered in an old Shizuoka warehouse planning to descend simultaneously on the IchiCo Corporation and Nagasaki Oceanic. Being involved in the planning was a completely new experience for both Chyna and Oscar; even in her fourteen years of tactical experience, she had never been part of a security operation that spanned locations that were two hundred miles apart. Everyone agreed that the faster they hit their target, the less likely it would be that the Nagasakis would find out about their plans. It wasn’t as farfetched as it sounded either, considering they already had both Evan and Keiko in custody and both had been in regular contact with Miyako Nagasaki. It was only a matter of time before she realized that they had been compromised.

  They would have three teams for the raid; one located in each city and a third which was the technical support for both sets of operatives and would be stationed right there in the Shizuoka warehouse. Oscar was drafted to the technical team; it was expected, considering his expertise, but that didn’t make him feel any less disappointed. Chyna reassured him that the mission was more important than any one person’s motives and she promised that when they were done in Japan, she would ensure he got all the tactical training he needed in Istanbul. She already knew the perfect people for the job.

  The following night, fifty-nine Interpol agents and Chyna Stone breached the perimeter of the IchiCo Estate in Tokyo and simultaneously neutralized the exterior guards at oh-two hundred hours. At Nagasaki Oceanic in Nagoya, forty agents, led by Commander Moreau, surrounded the closed, unguarded building. In Shizuoka, Oscar listened to the commands being issued over the agents’ wireless ear pieces as he remotely disabled the surveillance cameras and alarm systems at both locations. Akira was diligently hacking into both the Nagasaki Oceanic and IchiCo computer systems. When he was inside the servers, he began a cryptic download of every piece of information that was saved on their computers.

  “Download in progress,” he reported into his headset without taking his fingers from the keyboard or his eyes from the screen. Oscar heard Akira giggling on the line as the data copied steadily to the secure servers at Interpol headquarters.

  “I never thought that I’d ever get to use my powers for good,” he quipped.

  “I’d think it’s worth it, considering the full pardons you’re getting for your felony cyber-crimes.”

  “Yeah, I’m looking forward to my clean slate; here’s to hoping I won’t scribble all over it again.”

  It was Oscar’s turn to laugh.

  “Nagoya site is clear. Support, Tokyo; we’re going in.”

  “Copy that. Tokyo compound is clear; we’re going in.”

  “Good luck, Chyna,” Oscar said over the line.

  “Thanks, cowboy,” she replied.

  There was silence on the line for a full ten minutes, which left Oscar and Akira holding their breath. Oscar busied himself checking the connections to make sure he hadn’t lost the audio from the team, and then a dialog box came up on his screen confirming that the data copy had been completed.

  “Do you see what I see, Akira?”

  “Sure do, cowboy. We’re outta here!”

  “Confirming that all data is secure,” Oscar said into the headset. “Repeat. All data is secure.”

  “Copy that, Command. Teams standby for your orders.”

  Ten seconds passed; Oscar knew that for sure, because he was watching his clock earnestly. Then came the words that all of them had been waiting for.

  “Teams, the mission is a go. Go! GO! GO!”

  There was the breaking down of doors and then came a barrage of gunfire. Oscar recalled Commander Moreau reminding the agents a few nights before at the strategy session that even though it was highly illegal to have firearms in Japan, they weren’t dealing with upstanding citizens there. They were to ensure that they were well-armed and ready to use the required force once they had breached the target properties.

  From what Oscar was hearing, he had been right. There were clear and precise volleys of gunfire going off in his ears. Shots being fired and then others fired in return. It seemed to go on for hours. Soon he heard a familiar voice on the airwaves.

  “Nagoya location is secure. Agents come back.”

  “Command is secure. Agents come back,” Oscar replied.

  There was no answer from the Tokyo team, just continued gunfire and shouting.

  “I’m okay, cowboy,” came a soft voice and Oscar sighed in relief.

  Just as quickly as it had started, the shooting stopped and they heard the lead agent’s voice confirming their status.

  “Tokyo compound is clear.”

  “Copy that. Locations, please report on casualties,” Oscar said, getting ready to send in the extraction teams if required.

  “None at Nagoya.”

  “Three down at Tokyo, five injured. Medic and extraction service needed. Come back, Command.”

  “Medics and extraction teams are on the way, Tokyo.”

  “Copy that.”

  He sat staring at the computer screen in silence, literally holding his breath and wait
ing.

  Come on, Chyna, he thought. Come on, talk to me.

  “We got them, cowboy,” Chyna’s voice finally said over the radio. “You should have seen how his brothers begged us not to hurt them and gave Ichita Nagasaki up. He was hiding in a hidden panel of his library among all his stolen antiques, including the Armor of Aquitaine.”

  “Strange how life can turn on you in an instant, huh?” Oscar said. “I’m glad to hear you, Chyna. I think I’ve had enough for one night; see you when you get back.”

  Epilogue

  There was a knock on Chyna’s office door and when she looked up, it was Tony. She smiled broadly at him as she took her glasses from her face and placed them on the desk.

  “Hey, Babe,” he said cheerfully. “You ready for lunch?”

  They had agreed to have lunch together in the Sultan Ahmet Park and they had both been looking forward to it all morning. As Chyna answered his question, Tony noticed the piles of paper she had clearly been wading through since she had returned to work that morning.

  “What’s all that?” he asked, taking a seat on the opposite side of her desk.

  “Apparently last week, everyone was so busy getting ready to attend Sir Robert's party over the weekend that no one remembered there was still actual work to do. These are all the requests that have been coming in since the IchiCo bust.”

  “Those are all legit?”

  “I’m sifting through and these are the result of the first sorting. I already took out all the crackpot theory emails and the requests to come out to help locate the spirits of long lost relatives.”

  Tony laughed and then stopped to look at the expression on her face.

  “You’re serious aren’t you?”

  Chyna nodded.

  “I think I’m going to give these to Sirita, though. Lana arrived with the new guy, Mark Gunnar, last night and Oscar is out at the base on tactical maneuvers, but the four of them are supposed to be having an investigators meeting this afternoon. I think they should choose the next job.”