The Detachment - Barry Eisler [74]
I kept my eyes straight ahead, and in my peripheral vision saw her hand the attendant a ticket. There was a pause.
“Okay, no problem,” the attendant said. The gate went up.
“Thanks,” Tom’s sister said, and we drove out into the hothouse sun.
“What do I call you?” I said.
She slipped on a pair of shades and made a right onto L Street. “My name’s Yukie. Most people call me Yuki.”
I noticed a tattoo on the back of her right shoulder. Two kanji: one for love, the other for war. Love of war? Militancy? It was a neologism, not a real word, the kind of thing favored by otaku—computer geeks—and bosozoku—motorcycle gangs, so I wasn’t sure what it signified.
“Okay, Yuki. Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“Where’s your brother?”
“Hopefully on his way to White Flint Mall in Maryland. That’s where he told me to take you, and if he’s not there, I’ll drop you off and you’ll have to wait for him. I’m sorry, but I’m running late as it is.”
She made another right, this one onto 15th Street. She used the turning signal well in advance. Either a conscientious driver, or someone who didn’t want to give a cop even the tiniest excuse for stopping the van. Or both.
“You seemed…very competent back there,” I said. “If you don’t mind my saying.”
She glanced over at me, then back to the road. “Look, I’m not stupid, okay? If Tom works at the State Department, you guys are the Swedish figure skating team. He’s my brother and I owe him a lot. Let’s just leave it at that.”
She signaled again and we made a right onto K Street.
The little girl on the passenger side said, “What’s your name, mister?”
I glanced back, but she was looking at Dox.
“Well, my friends call me Dox, little darling. Which is short for unorthodox. You can call me that, too, but only if we’re going to be friends.”
“We can be friends,” she said, and giggled.
“All right then,” he said. He reached out and shook her tiny hand with mock formality. “And what shall I call you?”
“I’m Rina.”
“Rina. Well, that is a lovely name. It’s very fine to meet you, Rina.”
The girl on the other side said, “And I’m Rika.”
Dox turned and shook her hand, too. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen two such pretty girls. Are you twins?”
Rika said, “Yes!”
Rina said, “Are not! I’m six and she’s four.”
Rika said, “Why can’t we be twins?”
Rina said, “Tell her, Dox. It’s because twins have to be born at the same time.”
And it went on from there.
They were ridiculously cute. I thought of my own son, Koichiro. He’d be about their age now. What had they ever done to anyone? I couldn’t imagine anyone more innocent. And I’d put them in danger.
“Tom’s a good man,” I said to Yuki, as we made a right onto Connecticut Avenue, heading northwest toward the Maryland border.
She nodded. “He’s a good brother.”
“But I don’t think…I don’t think he understood what he might be getting you into. There was a…problem back at the hotel. You’ll probably be seeing it on the news tonight.”
“Seriously. I don’t want to hear it.”
“What I mean is, if that garage had any kind of surveillance cameras in position to record license plates, it’s going to be a problem for you. The people who are looking for us are going to want to know what you were doing in that garage.”
“Then it’s a good thing I changed the plates.”
“You what?”
“Look, I wasn’t always the inveterate suburban soccer mom who appears before you today, okay? I told you, I’m not stupid. I borrowed a set of plates from someone on a nice, leafy, non-surveillance camera neighborhood street. And with a little luck, I’ll get to return them before they’re even missed. So after I drop you all off, it’ll be like we never even met.”
I couldn’t help smiling. “Well, I’ll still be glad we did.”
She looked at me, sidelong, with a little smile of her own. “Don’t flirt with me, okay? Remember, I am a suburban soccer mom.”
A phone buzzed. I looked down and saw a unit in the beverage holder, flashing. She picked it up and glanced at it, then handed it to me. “Go ahead,