sure, but I thought Bonnie would be okay because—”
“Because why?” Cain interrupted.
“Because Bonnie was protected by the manager. She was American. She didn’t know about how they treated the Russian girls.”
“But you’re not Russian,” Cain said.
“Romanian, Ukrainian, Hungarian—they call us all Russians.”
Cain handed Sabrina a piece of paper. “This is my number. Please call me if you ever see them back at the Angel Cloud. I can protect you.”
She scoffed. “You can’t protect me from them.”
“I can protect you. There was a time when I made my living protecting presidents and kings.”
She took the paper and shoved it in her purse. She thanked him in her native Romanian: “Multumesc.”
“Cu plăcere,” he replied. He turned around and started walking away.
Before he disappeared into the darkness, Sabrina made one last quick request. “Please find her. Make those bastards pay—for Bonnie, and for Elena.”
He looked back only briefly. “You can bet your life on it.”
Chapter 58
Cain hailed a taxi. He wanted to return to Bonnie’s apartment. Was there anything I missed? He kept asking himself this question and replaying her voicemail message. I shouldn’t have gone to that retreat, just as I shouldn’t have gone to Thailand.
As Cain sat in the back of the taxi, he peered out the window. The high-rise buildings towered into the sky, some disappearing into the cloud cover. Bonnie could be anywhere, he worried. How am I going to find her in Japan when I couldn’t even find Claire and Christopher in Krabi? He lowered his head into his hand. He felt the onset of a migraine. He rubbed his temples to ease the pressure.
When the taxi neared the apartment complex, Cain instructed the driver to stop right there and not go any closer to the main doors.
“This is good. Right here. Here! Koko ni.” Cain didn’t want to be dropped off at the front doors because he wasn’t yet sure if they were being watched by the yakuza.
Cain walked around the neighborhood and the building’s parking lot. He looked intently at all the cars and made sure that none harbored a lookout. Black was the most popular color in Japan. It didn’t matter the make or model—almost all the sedans were black. Some were silver, but none were the orange Nissan Skyline that Sabrina had described.
Cain’s phone buzzed in his hand. It was a text message.
IS EVERYTHING OKAY? Umiko wrote. IT’S REALLY LATE AND I HAVEN’T HEARD BACK FROM YOU.
He called her. “Bonnie has been kidnapped.”
“Are you sure? This is unbelievable!” Umiko said.
“I’m trying to backtrack her steps. I’m at her apartment now. But I gotta be honest with you, Umi. I’m feeling overwhelmed right now. Everyone is right. I’m a gaijin—an outsider in this foreign place.” His voice started to crack. “It’s my fault. Now she has been taken. And I’m the only person Bonnie has looking for her.”
“I will help you. I can go with you to the police station,” Umiko offered.
Cain sighed. “That’s not going to do any good. I spoke with some officers earlier at Bonnie’s apartment. They were useless.”
“That is why you need my help,” Umiko said with confidence. “I have lived my whole life in Japan. I understand Japanese procedures, and I also know how to get around them.”
“I didn’t think navigating Japanese bureaucracy was even possible,” Cain said. “That’s how it feels around here, but maybe there’s hope. My crew chief used to say that an officer knows the rules, but a chief knows the exceptions to those rules. If you’re willing to help me, I’ll take it. I can use any help I can get right about now.”
“I will meet you at Tokyo police headquarters in one hour.”
“There’s a koban near Bonnie’s apartment. Wouldn’t that be quicker?”
“Quicker is not always better.”
“That’s a very Japanese thing to say.”
“What can I say? I’m Japanese.”
Cain let out a chuckle and realized it was the first time he had laughed since he shared breakfast with Umiko that very morning. But it seemed as though days had passed already.
About an hour later, Umiko showed up carrying a Dunkin’ Donuts box. “I purchased these on my way here. They will help us. Japanese inspectors watch American police movies.”
“And even if they don’t, everybody loves doughnuts.”
“Hai, and I have chocolate, glazed, and some with cute sprinkles.” Umiko smiled.
Tokyo’s metropolitan police headquarters was an enormous wedge-shaped building that ascended eighteen stories. It was the station responsible for overseeing more than forty thousand police officers. On the roof was a large red communications tower—undoubtedly for dispatching police and