this year, and a sword that’s worth more money than we’ll make in our entire career. So either they accidentally fell into your hands or that’s exactly what the ninja Secret Santa wants you to think.”
“I think you just like saying ‘ninja Secret Santa.’”
“Okay, fine. Guilty as charged. But you know I’m right, neh? You weren’t lucky that woman didn’t kill you. That fight was choreographed.”
Mariko was too stunned to speak. Han’s logic was solid, but his conclusion hardly seemed possible. At the time, Mariko had been dead certain she was fighting for her life. Could the whole thing have been staged?
Yes. She had to admit it was possible. In fact, right from the beginning she’d had the sense that someone had arranged for her to cross paths with the ninja woman. But it had never occurred to her that her assailant had been the one to do the arranging. If so, then not only had she kicked Mariko’s ass, but she’d chosen precisely how much to kick, and how much to let Mariko kick back. And she’d done it without Mariko ever noticing.
No. No one could be that skilled. Yet Mariko had no alternate explanation.
“See what I mean?” Han said it as if he’d read her mind. “Someone is setting you up, Mariko. I don’t know why, but I know they might be waiting for you on the other side of that door if you decide to kick it down.”
Then at least I’ll get some answers, Mariko thought. But to Han she said, “You’re right. Of course you’re right. I need to think this through.”
“Bullshit.” Han jabbed a finger at her like an umpire calling a strike. “You’re bullshitting me. You’re going to wait until I turn my back, and then you’re going to rush in there guns blazing.”
“No, I’m—”
“No, you’re not, are you? You don’t have any guns to blaze with. Your service weapon is locked up at headquarters.”
Mariko had never seen him like this. All his witticisms were gone. What remained was a sense of urgency that bordered on anger. “Han, I can’t get a warrant to go in there. I can only show probable cause if I reveal all the work I’ve done tracking that woman to this spot, and if I do that . . . well, this isn’t a narco case, is it? As soon as Captain Kusama gets wind of it, he’ll take a hatchet to whatever remains of my career.”
“So what am I supposed to do? Sit back and watch you walk into a trap?”
“We don’t know it’s a trap. We don’t know anything about it.”
“And that’s a good thing?” He peeled back his jacket to reveal the Nambu M60 holstered under his left arm. “At least take a fucking gun with you.”
“I can’t. Not yours, anyway. If I have to use it, it’s registered to you—”
“And that violates regs. Okay, so case closed, neh? You don’t have a weapon and I’m not letting you go in there unarmed. I’m coming with you and that’s that.”
Mariko gave him a sad smile. “It’s not. I’ve got the day off and you need to report for duty in about an hour and a half. So as much as I love you for wanting to join me on this career-ending caper, all I have to do is sit and have a cup of tea and wait for you to go to work.”
Han fumed and steamed, muttering a litany of unintelligible curses. At last he said, “All right, then go do it. Right now, before I change my mind. At least this way I can stand outside and listen for enough reasonable suspicion to justify coming in after you. Do me a favor—hell, do both of us a favor: scream loud when they try to kill you.”
16
Mariko took a deep breath to quell the butterflies in her stomach. Then she palmed her Pikachu and went back to the strip club.
For her first four years on the force she’d carried a Cheetah stun baton. It had never been ideal for plainclothes work; it was too long, too hard to conceal under a jacket, and the 850,000 volts it boasted four years ago were downright anemic by today’s standards. She’d made the compromise because of the baton’s greater striking power. For her first four years on the job, she’d never felt strong enough to hit a perp and really make it sting. But thanks to her departed sensei, Yamada, she felt stronger now, more confident. The big guys