Secrets of the Apple (26 page)

“I fear, sir, that you will need to be a little more careful in the future,” Morias said, his expression bland, his words unemphatic.

Ryoki replied with an equally impassive lift of his eyebrows, though he suspected what was coming. His family occasionally received threats from extremist groups bent on making a point or some money, an unfortunate cost of success.

“Last night the president personally heard whisperings about a local gangster who calls himself “José,
o Pai do Povo
.” Morias paused, looking at Ryoki as though the name might ring a bell.

“Joseph, Father of the People,” Ryoki translated uncertainly, shy of his toddling Portuguese before Morias’s intense gaze.

“He’s been in the news recently, an up-and-coming criminal. One report claimed he was once destined for the church, but found a better way to help his brothers and sisters in need.” Morias’s mouth curled down an eighth of an inch, silently ranking Robin Hood with Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. “It appears he hopes to snare some of the money floating around you, wants to buy arms, increase his base. But the president has taken an interest in your welfare and as a courtesy has asked me to review your personal security. I have already visited your home and spoken with your housekeeper. Her nephew works with me, actually. I have known her for many years. A fine woman.”

Unauthorized interference irritated Ryoki, but he nodded a tempered thanks and gestured for Morias to continue.

“We’re not overly concerned about this José. He’s a relative newcomer in São Paulo and we haven’t yet obtained a good description, but so far his M.O. has been snatch-and-grab, preferring easier targets like family members or loved ones, kids with nannies, low-profile people he can ransom without attracting too much attention.”

“My family is all in Japan,” Ryoki said, feeling strangely energized, tingly. He almost welcomed the chance to annihilate some thug head-on, man to man, even if he was just a B-list hooligan.

Morias smiled, but with the look of a father about to caution his son. “You appear to have retained excellent security advice. I found your cars most impressive; that level of armoring is more common in the Middle East. And your bodyguards have certainly made names for themselves. They drive you, I understand, often switching routes, setting up decoy cars. These measures will most likely deter a man like this José. All the same, the president has asked that you be careful out in the streets, no more unescorted days on the town with your assistant.”

Ryoki’s head snapped up and he wondered how Morias could know about that.

“Especially, don’t go out walking alone day or night. Eventually you might want to consider taking a helicopter to work, reduce your exposure. Make everybody’s job easier.” He smiled, his eyes remaining serious.

Ryoki looked at the man thoughtfully. He’d read about São Paulo’s kidnapping rate, about one per day, sadistic affairs where kidnappers cut off ears or fingers and sent them to the family to hurry the ransom. He could see why the president had taken an interest. It would be hard to attract much foreign capital if investors were seen as likely targets to be offed on Brazilian soil. But why send a member of his personal staff for so slight a threat?

“Are you sure there’s no one who might be an easier target?” Morias asked, looking at him meaningfully. Ryoki shrugged, shook his head.

“Good,” Morias said as they both stood. “Thank you for taking the time to see me.” He bowed, then held out the newspaper, spreading the headline flat on Ryoki’s desk. “When the president saw this photo he specifically mentioned how much he enjoyed meeting you and your charming companion.” Both men bowed and Morias left.

Ryoki sat down and glanced at his photo in the newspaper. He had already given the article a cursory glance that morning. When Kate came he intended ask her to skim it on the off-chance the reporter had said anything damaging.

Waste of an evening last night. If the organizers had just asked him to send a check, he wouldn’t have missed the match between Manchester United and—

Then he saw it.

He didn’t remember touching her at all last night. In fact she’d been in a particularly unsociable mood, hanging back, only stepping forward as needed to translate or whisper information about an approaching guest. Must have been just such a moment. Still, it was that moment the photographer froze, instantly crafting a newsprint totem to tower over the entire evening.

He looked again, surprised he hadn’t seen it the first time. His right hand was spanning her waist, his left cupping her elbow. In the photo she appeared to stand halfway in his arms, lovingly presented to the president. And the expression on his face. Must be a trick of the light, maybe the angle of the lens. He looked almost—Well, no, surely not. He brought the paper closer to his eyes until the minute dots obscured the larger view, allowing him to scrutinize the combinations of light and dark until the expression seemed to even out under his gaze. Mistaken. Needlessly worried. Not true. But from a distance, just at first glance, he had to admit, it almost looked as if he wore the same rapt expression he’d seen in the photo of the Blond Pirate.

Not that it mattered.

Trick or no, it still made her look like a target.

Ryoki felt sick. He’d been selfish bringing her down here; maybe he should send her home now. Or was that cowardice? Living life in fear of minor bullies. He sat back, considering. His mother often traveled with his father. How had they handled this kind of thing? It must have come up. He reached for the phone, even laid his hand on the smooth plastic, but drew back before picking it up. Calling his father about Kate would provoke a whole slew of questions that could only end in his mother sending Kate the latest bridal magazines. No way he could explain that. If he wanted to keep her in Brazil, he would have to handle this himself.

He took a breath and reviewed what he knew. Morias hadn’t expressed concern for his own safety, deeming his private security measures sufficient. However, aside from work, Ryoki had no fixed routine that frequently took him outside the protection of the office or the house. Kate, on the other hand, often traveled around the city by taxi, driven by who knows who, and ran errands entirely unaccompanied. No one ever questioned her comings and goings. She had no skill to defend herself, and when she was distracted, insert random bug here, barely had the sense to look both ways before crossing the street. Plucking her up for ransom would be—

Ryoki leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes and his forehead as though to erase the vision of Kate struggling in the grip of some greasy brute who slammed her head against a concrete wall so he could stuff her senseless body into his trunk. Macabre image, probably some Las Vegas residue. Still made him want to vomit.

She needed more than a driver. She needed a trained bodyguard to follow her around the city, a good Japanese man he could trust, someone he’d brought from home.

He called the house to make arrangements with his security staff and discovered she had already finished reconciling the household books and left home to buy thank you gifts on his behalf. Growling to find her cell switched off, he immediately sent his driver to pick her up at Shopping Iguatemi, then went back to work, dreading the heralding click of her door and the thud of her bag on her desk. She wasn’t going to go for this, he’d bet his hands.

When Kate finally entered his office, she looked bright-eyed and rested. Maybe good, maybe not. Would tiredness make her more compliant or more stubborn? Not sure.

“I wasn’t quite finished with my errands,” she said. “What’s going on?”

Ryoki sat back. “Why don’t you have a seat, Kate,” he said softly. She looked at him suspiciously as she sat, perched on the edge of her chair.

“I had a visitor this morning. It seems some petty criminal wants to help himself to my bank account.”

“Okay,” she said uncertainly. “Would you like me to call the bank or…” she trailed off as Ryoki leaned forward.

“Actually, he’s not that kind of thief. He’s more of a trader.”

“Traitor?” she asked, looking confused.

“Tra-der,” he repeated. “He would trade something of mine for something he wants,” Ryoki said obliquely, unwilling to tackle the subject head-on.

Kate thought about this before narrowing her eyes. “Are you talking about kidnapping? Is this about the man that was at the house this morning? He had credentials and Cecelia said she used to put Band-Aids on his knees and feed him soba noodles.”

“The danger is not great, but from now on, I want Sano to drive you and accompany you around the city.”

Kate laughed in a single burst and looked around as if she might be on Candid Camera.

Ryoki smiled, that is to say, he turned up the corners of his mouth, but said nothing.

Kate’s lips gradually flattened into a line. “We’re about to have a fight, aren’t we,” she said.

“Maybe, if you want.” One of the benefits of having been wrong in Las Vegas meant he’d banked a freebie and he intended to cash it now. “I listened to you that night in Las Vegas. I’m hoping you’ll listen to me now.”

“And I’m thinking that because of Las Vegas, you’re jumping at shadows.”

“I assure you the gangster is quite real.”

“But assistants are too easy to replace. It would be like kidnapping a glass of water.”

There was that “easily replaced” bit again, twice as annoying as last time.

“Yes, but another glass of water might not fit all those clothes I bought.” Ryoki pulled out the newspaper and laid it flat on his desk. “Any criminal who looks at this could get the wrong idea.”

Kate glanced at it and looked back at him. He knew she hadn’t really seen, but he was loath to explain. He put his finger on the photo, willing her to take a second look. “You’re in the photo,” she said, “and you drive yourself sometimes. You make a much bigger target than I do.”

“I’m going to be more careful as well.”

“But you can’t really think he would come after me.”

“I never, ever want to find out.”

“But the risk is so minor and the hindrance is so great. I can’t imagine running all my errands with some impatient man fidgeting around, making me feel like I’m too slow. I can’t concentrate without privacy. I can’t think my own thoughts.”

Ryoki took hold of the last sentence. “Kate, your cousin Tom once told me that you get your head so high up in the clouds you could be snatched and locked in someone’s trunk before you even knew what hit you.”

“You’re taking advice from burp-at-the-table Tom?”

“He’s a good man with an interest in your safety. Now that trust falls to me,” Ryoki said quietly.

“Just because you’re a man—”

“Ah, the politically correct argument. If only I was American and cared.”

She paused and then spoke slowly, enunciating her words carefully. “I lived here for years without trouble. I know which areas to avoid. I’m not stupid, Ryoki. I don’t go looking for trouble.”

“But because of me it might come looking for you. As a teenager you could fly under the radar. Now your picture is on the front page of the newspaper.” He tapped the paper, pushing it closer, hoping she would take a closer look and understand. Whether she understood or not, she refused the bait. “In bringing you into my life, I didn’t consider that you’d also take on some of my risks. I’ll understand if you’d prefer to go home.” His voice thinned on the last word and his lunch went for a sail around and around and around. He laid an arm over his belly to discreetly relieve the pressure. Wordlessly Kate pulled a roll of antacid out of a small hidden drawer on her side of his desk. He took two, but it was more the homely gesture that soothed him.

She softened her voice, trying reason rather than indignation. “But it’s still my decision to make.”

“It is…” Ryoki paused mid-sentence before getting up and walking around his desk. “Stand up, please,” he said quietly.

Kate stood, watching him nervously. He faced her and backed up to the middle of the room, beckoning her to move toward him until she was about six feet away where he motioned her to stop.

“Now, I’m a friendly attacker—”

Kate sighed and started to return to her seat, but he called her back.

“As I said, I am a friendly attacker. I’ll give you fair warning and I promise not to hurt you.”

“Why am I doing this?”

“You have this whole room to work with. Climb on anything. Throw anything. If you can get to the door, I’ll apologize and won’t say another word about any of this.” He nearly offered to kiss the bottoms of her shoes if he lost, but thought she might smell a rat, so he’d downgraded.

“So, all I have to do is get to the door and you won’t say another word.” She had the conflicted look of a gambler suspicious of an irresistible jackpot. “Just get to the door and I’m free.” She chewed her lip, narrowing her eyes. “There’s a catch.”

Ryoki smiled, holding up his hands palms out to appear as non-threatening as possible, betting she’d grown up watching enough American TV to quasi-believe that a woman in teetering heels could theoretically plow barehanded through a whole gang of bad guys. “You can see all there is to see. Take your time. Figure out what you want to do. I’ll wait.”

Kate pursed her lips, looked around the room, the cogs turning almost visibly as she formulated her plan of attack. Finally she kicked off her shoes and crouched to spring, her eyes telegraphing Left Left Left. He tried not to laugh. She breathed in.

“Go!”

“Uhmph.”

Thump

Exhale

“
That’s
the catch,” she croaked, pinned solidly to the floor, avoiding his eye.

“I’ll give you another chance. If you can get away, I’ll drop it.”

Keenly aware that he held a small woman in a short skirt, Ryoki pinned only her arms and legs, careful to avoid any contact that might be construed as lewd and leaving her at least five possible escapes. But none of these appeared to occur to Kate, who yanked and struggled until she was red and panting, apparently believing that just one more jerk would wrench her free. Ryoki watched, coolly amused by her efforts until she finally stopped, laying limp on the floor, her head turned away, thinking—which, had she but known it, was always when he found her the most dangerous. “Have you had enough?” he asked kindly. He needed her to say it; no letting her off on a technicality.