Pleasing the Dead (19 page)

Chapter Thirty-five

Unless she was having the out-of-body experience reported by near-drowning or heart attack victims, Storm knew she wasn't dead. For one thing, she felt awful. Her eyelids were glued together, her head pounded, her mouth felt like and tasted like roofing tar, and nausea roiled somewhere beneath the film that wrapped her consciousness. It was like being under water, so she'd give in and succumb to the sticky darkness, which partially buffered her from queasiness and pain.

The other clue that life persisted was the same attractive Asian woman with the gardenia in her hair whom she'd seen in a dream at some point before—when had that been?—came to visit again. The woman's pale, powdered face wore an expression of kindness and concern, and her carmine lips moved to communicate a message that Storm couldn't quite understand. Storm knew that she and the woman didn't exist in the same realm, and the woman was trying to give Storm an important message.

In the real world, which was still out of reach, Storm felt tossed and pitched, rolled from one side to another. It wasn't helping the nausea one bit. Her brain hummed and voices murmured, though Storm couldn't tell if those were the sounds of the geisha-woman attempting to get through to her or if there were other people around her.

As if the static lifted, Storm understood the woman's words. “Help Damon and Stella,” she said, and gestured behind Storm. “You can trust Yuan Ling.” Then she held up what looked like a long shepherd's crook, a modern one made of pale blue aluminum. It made no sense whatsoever.

Who would help that rat Damon, and what the hell was a Yuan Ling? Then her sticky eyelids came apart. The first thing she saw was Keiko, who was swabbing her face with a damp rag. The smell of vomit and diesel fuel gagged her, and Storm closed her eyes against the nauseating dizziness that washed over her in waves.

Keiko moved a bucket across the floor with her foot. “If you're sick, can you lean over?” she asked in a soft voice.

A crack in Storm's consciousness opened and shed some light on her memory. Yuan Ling was Keiko. Obake or one of his agents named her Keiko after they purchased her from her parents. With as much consideration as they would have for a rubber doll, or a pricey spittoon. Certainly less than a car, which would cost ten times as much.

Vertigo inverted Storm's stomach and she barely got her head over the bucket in time. She knew how insensate she was when she went to wipe her mouth and found her hands tied behind her back. Whatever held them bit painfully into her skin.

Keiko's wrists were tied with some kind of heavy duty plastic tie, and Storm surmised her hands must be secured in a similar manner. Keiko, with her hands in front, had enough mobility to blot Storm's mouth, though her skin was broken and bleeding in places. Storm remembered how Keiko got her hands in front of her at Pauline's house. She was young.

Storm laid her head down gently so as not to bring on another session of vomiting and moved her eyes slowly around the small, enclosed space. Stella was there, too. She sat opposite Storm on a separate bunk, pale as the walls and stiff as a mannequin. The bed swayed, and Storm knew it wasn't just her vertigo, because Stella cringed in pain. Her arms, too, were behind her and Storm knew they hurt like hell.

The room rolled again, and the movement brought on another bout of vertigo, but at least she knew why their space tilted and swayed. It wasn't due to her drug-induced delirium or dizziness. They were in the tiny forward cabin of a boat, and the hum that had added to the confusion in Storm's dream was an engine. A diesel engine, by the odor. Storm hated that smell. Even without the drugs, the smell of diesel made her queasy. Underlying the diesel was a fishy scent, combined with the stink of urine. Storm gulped back nausea again.

With effort, she began to examine the room, which was V-shaped, the contour of the prow. The bunk on which she lay and the one on which Stella sat met at the point of the V. Between the bunks was a small floor space, where Keiko could just about stand upright. Storm, who at five-eight was a couple of inches taller, would have to stoop a bit.

There were narrow horizontal windows above the bunks, too small to climb through, and they were open a few inches. Thank God, or the women would have baked. Hot wind drifted through the side on which the sun shone, which was Stella's side of the cabin. Stella's face was glossy with sweat, and her color was grayer than Storm had ever seen it. She didn't look good.

Storm struggled to a sitting position, which caused pain to shoot from her deadened hands to her cramping shoulders. It was why Stella was trying not to move, though the bouncing boat made that effort impossible.

The boat wasn't moving fast, just steadily, and the ocean had to be clean and glassy, or they would have been tossed around like corn in a popper. As it was, they were subjected to a good deal of swaying with an occasional hard thump. The downside of a clean and glassy ocean was that there was virtually no breeze. Hence, the stifling heat.

Storm looked up at the ceiling. Topside, it would be the forward deck of the boat. As she'd expected, there was a good-sized hatch.

“You've tried the hatch?” she asked, knowing the answer.

“Yeah.” Stella said.

The only other space big enough to get through was the door to the cabin, and Storm didn't bother to ask if they'd tried it. There had been some pounding in her drug-induced stupor, and she surmised that this had been Stella and Keiko's work. She'd have done the same.

Next to the cabin door was a smaller door. “What's in there?” Storm asked.

“A toilet,” said Keiko, who sat next to Stella on the bunk.

“Anybody on the boat used it?”

“No,” said Stella. “But Keiko checked it out.”

“No windows?” Storm asked, and the other two women just shook their heads.

“Figures.”

The boat crashed over a swell, and Storm nearly tipped over. Stella did, with a cry of pain.

“Who's driving? Do you know?”

“We don't know,” said Keiko, “But it's the
Quest
, one of Lara's boats. They must have Lara tied up somewhere else.”

“Have you seen her?”

“No, but we think she's topside. The only other cabin is the galley and salon,” said Keiko. “They're open to stern of the boat.”

“There's another head. They could have her locked in there.”

Ugh, thought Storm.

“We heard her voice. She yelled,” Keiko said.

“She was scared.” Lines etched sadness onto Stella's face. “I didn't protect Angela, and now Lara's in trouble.”

“It's not your fault,” Keiko said. “What could you do?”

“How did you get here?” Storm interrupted. “Were you both drugged, too?”

Keiko helped Stella sit up. “I called Stella to tell her Carmen and I were okay, but Pauline answered the phone.”

“She'd come to get me,” Stella said.

“On whose orders?”

“Obake.” Keiko spat the word. “Her son is working with him.”

“Wayne made her do it.” Stella appeared stricken, as if she still couldn't fathom the betrayal. “She was my friend, the only person who knew the vow I made to Barb to protect her daughters.” Stella's voice broke. “Pauline knew how I felt about Angela's death.”

“Pauline is not a friend,” Keiko said.

“Keiko, what did Pauline tell you on the phone?” Storm asked.

“To wait in front of the hospital, or they'd hurt Stella.”

“Who's they?” asked Storm.

“Two men in a van. The ones who picked me up.”

“Not a black SUV?” Storm asked.

“No,” Keiko said. “I know who you mean, but not them.”

“What happened after they picked you up?” Storm asked Keiko.

“They took me home, to our apartment. But Pauline opened the door, and she told me to get inside or someone would hurt Stella.”

“And then what?”

“Someone big threw a blanket over me. He knocked me down.”

“I was already tied up by the time Keiko got there,” Stella said. “Pauline could have helped, but she let them take us away.”

“How did they surprise you?” Storm asked Stella.

“Pauline called and told me she knew where Keiko was, but she said she had to talk to me in person. She was alone at the door, but someone else came in the bathroom window.”

Storm thought for a minute. “Pauline works for Obake?”

“Yes, her son got her involved,” said Keiko. Stella nodded.

“I heard he bought that nice house for her,” Storm said.

“The BMW, too,” Keiko said.

“But she sold her shop to the Tagamas. Do you think Tagama works with Obake?”

“Yes,” said Keiko.

“No,” said Stella, at the same time.

Storm looked back and forth between them. Stella was the first to speak. “I can't believe that. Tagama helped me. He got me out of the business.”

“But he could be threatened. He wouldn't risk his son's safety, not even for you.” Keiko spoke without spite.

Stella didn't want to believe it. “He was smart. He'd know how to get around Obake.”

Keiko didn't respond; she simply gazed at her bound wrists.

“We'll figure that out later,” Storm said. “Right now, let's get ourselves out of here.”

She got to her feet and nearly fell over. Not only was the floor heaving with the sea, but she was still weak and shaky. She leaned against the bulkhead next to the bathroom and crouched into a near-sitting position. Then she tried to slide her tethered hands down the back of her thighs.

Shit, that hurt. She was bent at the waist like a paper clip with her hands at the level of the back of her knees while the sharp plastic edges of the ties gouged her wrists, which were sticky and raw. Nor was her flared silk skirt the ideal outfit for contortionism. It hung off one hip and bunched up at the other, creating more bulk for her aching arms to bypass. But the big problem was the curve of her hips. Why had she eaten dessert last night? Or the night before?

Keiko stood up, reached out, and grabbed the drooping side of Storm's skirt. She gave it a sharp jerk. The wadded skirt pulled smooth on one side. “Hold on,” Keiko said, and pulled some more.

Storm yelped with the tug on her strained upper arms and shoulders and almost fell onto the bunk.

“No, stay on your feet,” Keiko said. “It's easier to move. Now lean back.” Keiko still had hold of the hem of Storm's skirt. At least the fullness of the garment let it be pulled free—a straight skirt would have made the job harder.

“One leg at a time,” Keiko said, and held Storm steady. The plastic bands cut deeper, but Storm kept going. She could do this; she was limber enough.

When Storm got her hands to the back of her ankles, she knew she was almost there. She was also appalled to see the deep cuts in the sides and backs of her wrists. Blood ran down the backs of her hands toward her fingers and dripped onto the floor. A wave of dizziness hit her.

“Another inch,” Keiko said. She put a hand firmly on Storm's back to steady her. “Easy now, put one foot at a time through.”

Storm did it, one bare foot, then the other. Successful but sore, she flopped onto the bunk. “Do we have any water?”

Chapter Thirty-six

Storm sipped from the water bottle Stella gave her. She hoped the water would alleviate the drug-induced headache that throbbed behind her eyes. She also waited for the searing pain in her wrists to subside. A fantasy of pounding the shit out of whoever drugged her, tied them up, and imprisoned them in this stuffy, stomach-churning little cabin kept her alert. Pounding in a figurative sense, of course; she remembered the heft of the person who'd hit her from behind.

“Stella, did you know Yasuko?” Storm asked.

Stella looked startled. “Sure, I know her.”

Storm wrestled herself into a sitting position and hung her legs over the edge of the bunk. “She's dead.”

Both Stella and Keiko gaped at her. Keiko's mouth dropped open, and her eyes filled.

“I'm sorry,” Storm said softly.

“She helped me,” Keiko whispered.

“She helped Angela, too,” Stella said. “Or she tried to.”

“You didn't tell me about Yasuko,” Storm said to Stella.

“That day when you drove me,” Stella said, “I was just getting started. It's not a short, simple story.”

“I gathered,” Storm said. “We've got time now. Why don't you fill me in?”

“How'd she die?”

“I'm not sure yet. All I know is that she was found at a beach park.”

“Obake,” breathed Keiko. She sniffled softly, wiped at her eyes. Her hand trembled. “It's my fault.”

“Why do you say that?” asked Storm.

“I went to see her after Hiroki Yoshioka shot himself. I wanted to know if Carmen was safe.” She looked at Stella, then Storm. “My father had debts, too. I knew what Obake wanted.”

“When did you do this?” Stella asked.

“When you were visiting Barb.”

Stella's mouth opened, closed, and opened. When the words came, they were low and urgent. “Obake won't let you get away with it.”

“I don't care anymore. I had to stop him.” Tears flowed down Keiko's face. “But it was selfish, and it got Yasuko killed.”

“You were saving yourself,” Storm said. She'd realized this when she'd found the girls at Pauline's house. Keiko was furious, and she acted out her anger with power, a trait she'd been denied her entire life.

“I guess so. I have some catching up to do.”

“I'm proud of you,” said Stella.

Keiko shook her head. “It was worth risking my own safety, but it wasn't fair of me to risk anyone else's.”

“Don't say that,” said Stella. Now her eyes brimmed with tears.

“You did the right thing,” Storm said. “How old were you when Obake brought you into the water trade?”

“Thirteen.”

“Not much older than Carmen,” said Storm.

“I was smaller,” Keiko said with a smile. “They took me to a doctor when I got here. I weighed thirty-five kilos, about seventy-eight pounds. Carmen's going to be taller and healthier. She's already five-one.” Keiko sounded like a proud mother.

“And Yasuko told you that Obake was planning to kidnap Carmen?”

“Yes. His men were going to take her from the hospital.”

Obake would know Yasuko had told Keiko, Storm thought. Still, Yasuko had done it for the little girl. Probably for Keiko, too.

Keiko, Storm, and Stella sat quietly for several minutes. All three women recognized the sacrifice Yasuko had made.

“Obake is responsible for Yasuko's death, not you,” Storm said. She felt a surge of anger on the woman's behalf. “What was she like?”

“She was kind,” said Keiko.

“Yes,” said Stella thoughtfully. “She was also confused. Um, there's a term. Conflicted. She was conflicted.”

“About men?” Storm asked, and felt Keiko's sharp eyes scrutinizing their faces. She looked to her and Stella as authorities, Storm realized. It wasn't the time to tell the young woman she still had to figure out both men and family relationships.

“She was of Chinese ancestry, and born in the Philippines,” said Stella. “I think her parents sold her before she was ten.”

“How old is she now? I mean—”

“Forty-something. About my age, but it wasn't something we talked about. She kept herself up very well.” Stella paused. “She had to, if she wanted to stay as Obake's hostess. It was a matter of survival.”

“She'd been with Obake for more than thirty years?” Storm said. The exploitation of another human being to such a degree was hard for her to believe.

“She was his mistress for at least a decade,” Stella said. “When I was there, she was his primary consort.”

Storm had a vision of the woman she'd seen in her dream. “Did she look like a geisha?”

Keiko laughed.

“Not so fast,” Stella said to Keiko. “A modern one, perhaps. White skin, red lipstick, but Western clothing. She often wore a silk flower on her lapel of her designer suit.”

Storm remembered the flowers in her dream. “How about flowers in her hair? Gardenias?”

Stella frowned. “I never saw her with flowers in her hair.”

“Me either,” Keiko said.

“When she was Obake's mistress, did he protect her from other men? Keep her for himself?”

“Yes, but,” Stella winced, “it wasn't an easy job. Obake has certain needs.” She wouldn't meet Storm's eyes.

“Were you with him?” Storm asked.

“No, I got out before he—”

“I was,” Keiko said. “It's when I did this.” She rolled up her sleeves and held up her arms. Parallel scars, six or seven inches long, ran the length of both forearms.

“I'm surprised you're here to tell us about it. You're a strong woman,” Storm said.

By the look of the cuts, whoever stopped the gush of blood must have known exactly what to do, and how to do it quickly.

“Yasuko,” Keiko said.

“She learned about tourniquet pressure points from another suicide,” said Stella. “From one she couldn't save.”

“Angela?” asked Storm.

Stella shook her head. “Someone else. Angela overdosed.”

Storm looked at Keiko. “You knew Angela?”

“Yes,” she said quietly.

“Did you know Barb?” Storm asked.

“I met her once. She scares me.”

Storm turned to Stella. “Ichiru Tagama rescued you from Obake, but how did Michael Farrell get Barb out?”

“A week or two after Tagama took me away, Michael negotiated a business deal with Obake.”

“Michael loved her,” Keiko said.

“He traded a successful restaurant, didn't he?” Storm asked.

“Yes.”

“And years later, he tried to open another one.”

“He didn't know the deal was forever. Obake lets people go, but they owe him, and once they do, they owe him forever.” Stella's words were bitter.

“Did you trust Yasuko?”

Both Keiko and Stella hesitated. “Yes,” they said together.

“You weren't sure.”

“No one was ever sure about anyone around Obake. He knows how to get people to do what he wants. He capitalizes on weakness,” Stella said.

She looked at Keiko, who wouldn't look up. “He used Pauline and me to lure Keiko. He knew she would come because she cared enough to rescue Carmen.”

“But why would Pauline help him?”

“She may have been protecting her son. Wayne wanted his boss' job on the liquor commission. Pauline had seen what Obake would do if people didn't agree to his terms.”

“What did he have on you?” Storm directed the question to Stella.

She looked ashamed. “He bought my house. And I was afraid of him. I'd see his car idling outside, that creepy son of his in the driver's seat. They'd watch me.” She glanced over at Keiko. “Then I worried about Keiko.”

“And what about Tagama?” Storm asked.

“Tagama is the only person I've ever known who kept Obake off balance. I think Obake is a bit afraid of him. Tagama knows the islands better; he has people working for him that Obake can't reach.” Stella sat up straighter. “If Obake got to one of Tagama's people, Tagama had others. And he paid very well. Land, family security, kindness—commodities Obake never understood.”

“But Tagama loved Yasuko,” Keiko said. “How come he couldn't protect her?”

“Maybe he didn't know how bad her trouble was.” A shadow crossed Stella's face. “He's been able to protect Ryan.”

“Why didn't Yasuko leave years ago, when Obake took another mistress?” Storm asked.

“Fear.” Keiko snapped the word.

Stella was more thoughtful. “It wouldn't be easy to get away. But here's where I think she was conflicted. Part of her liked the attention from men. Remember, it's the only love she's known, except from the girls she cared for. As she aged, she stayed because she could help the young women. She got them better health care, better clientele, better pay. It wasn't until she became involved with Tagama that she knew her life could be different.”

“What pay?” Keiko spat. “And what good does it do when you are thousands of miles from home, in a different country and culture, and have no place to go? The only family you have is whores.”

Stella leaned against Keiko. Storm thought if she'd been able, she'd have put an arm around the young woman.

“How long has Tagama been seeing Yasuko?” Storm asked.

“We just found out,” Keiko said. “When I asked about Carmen, Yasuko told me to talk to him if anything happened to her. She didn't put it in words, but I knew they were close.”

“They've kept it very quiet,” Stella added.

“I wonder how they met,” Storm thought out loud.

“I thought about this,” Keiko said. “Yasuko called Stella when I…” she held up her arms. “But a man was there, too. I didn't see him, but I heard his gentle voice. They needed to stop the bleeding. Stella was a half-hour from Lahaina.”

“You think Yasuko called Tagama first?” Storm asked.

“Either that or he was there when it happened. She would have known him from his meetings with Obake.” Keiko made a little choking sound. “I wish I'd known.”

“I'm sure they were planning something. Some way of getting Yasuko away safely,” Stella said. “If anyone could do it, Tagama could.”

“But he didn't,” Storm said in a soft voice.

“No,” said Stella. She stared at her feet and shifted her weight. “I wonder where he is now.”