Page 44 of Over the Top

“My guy thinks she may be Japanese,” Spencer answered.

“Hmm.” Charles typed on his computer for several seconds and then stared at his screen. Unfortunately, Spencer couldn’t see it from where he sat.

As the silence dragged out, Spencer got the impression that Charles might have forgotten they were sitting in his office. Drago murmured to Spencer, “Charles’s group runs simulations of global crises. He has access to real-time intel from pretty much all over the world. That’s why I came to him today.”

Charles jumped without warning, almost as if his chair had given him an electric shock. “What the hell are you involved in, Drago?” the analyst demanded.

“What did you find?” Dray asked quickly.

“I just got red flagged. My search parameters were apparently forwarded to the Asia desk, and they’re demanding—aggressively—to know why I ran that particular search. They’re sending someone down to talk to me in person now.”

Spencer traded startled glances with Drago. What was Gunner tangled up in? And who in the hell was that kid?

A middle-aged man who looked to be of Japanese descent knocked impatiently on Charles’s door and pushed past Charles before stopping to stare at Spencer and Drago. “Who are these people?” the man demanded.

“They’re the reason I ran the search. Care to tell us what the red flag is all about?” Charles asked with admirable calm.

“Come with me, you two,” the man said.

“We’ve never met,” Drago said smoothly. “Drago Thorpe. Formerly of the Operational Security group. And you are?”

The OPSEC moniker seemed to take the man aback. As it should. The operational arm of the agency was small but very, very good at what it did. Anyone who worked there was lethal in the extreme.

“Joe Riyosuki. And you?” he asked, turning to Spencer.

“Spencer Newman. US Navy retired.” He omitted the SEAL title, not only because it still rankled that he could no longer call himself that, but also because he would rather have this guy underestimate him until they knew what had him so agitated.

“I need you both to come with me,” Joe said.

“Where do you want us to go?” Drago demanded suspiciously.

“Look. This isn’t a request. I’m trying to be civil about it, but I’ll have you both arrested if I have to. It’s imperative that you come with me right now.”

Spencer frowned. What in the ever-loving hell had Gunner gotten them into?

They followed Riyosuki to an elevator, and Spencer was alarmed when the man hit a button that would take them below ground level. He glanced at Drago, whose jaw was uncharacteristically tight.

They stepped out into a parking garage, and Riyosuki led them to a white SUV whose engine was idling. Spencer balked at that. “Joe, my dude, I haven’t known you long enough to get into a car without knowing where in the hell you’re taking me.”

The guy huffed. “I have to take you to the Japanese embassy right away.”

Drago’s eyes widened nearly as much as Spencer’s did.

“Please. This is a matter of international importance and utmost delicacy. If you insist on driving your own vehicle, you can follow me there.”

Drago nodded stiffly. “I’m driving a silver pickup truck. I’ll meet you outside the main gate in five minutes and we’ll follow you.”

Spencer followed Drago back to the elevator, and they hurried through the building to the front desk to turn in their visitor’s badges. As they stepped outside, Spencer muttered, “Do you trust this guy?”

“Yeah. He’s genuinely panicked. He actually broke protocol by not escorting us back to the front desk to check us out. I say we follow him and see what the Japanese are so worked up about.”

The drive into northwest DC was a nightmare of morning rush-hour traffic, but they eventually arrived at the embassy, a blond brick Georgian mansion set well back from Massachusetts Ave. The guard at the front gate waved them through, and they parked in the circular drive in front of the imposing structure.

They were shown with impressive speed into a Western-style office, one with tall windows looking out on a gorgeous garden and a massive crystal chandelier dominating the center of the room. A young man served them tea, and then an older man came into the room.

Joe from the CIA made introductions all around in English, and then took off speaking with their host in rapid Japanese, and Spencer and Drago exchanged glances. Then the man from the embassy said in perfect British-accented English, “Thank you for coming so quickly.”

“How can we help you, sir?” Drago asked.

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