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“Oh.” He rolled onto his back. “Sit on my feet while I do a few sit-ups, will you?”
Chas slid off the bed and knelt on both of his feet while grabbing Gunner’s ankles. Gunner commenced doing sit-ups. “I’d have gone to college if there was money for it.”
“What would you have studied?”
“History, maybe.”
“And done what with a history degree?”
“Teach college. Get people to think about links between the past and present. Challenge students to learn the lessons of our forbearers.”
Chas laughed. “I have trouble imagining you sitting in some book-filled office, wearing a cardigan sweater, with a pair of reading glasses perched on the end of your nose. I can see myself as that professor someday, but not you.”
Gunner grinned up at him without stopping.
“How many sit-ups are your planning to do?” Chas finally asked.
“As many as it takes to tire me out.”
“I can think of better ways to tire yourself out.”
Gunner stopped at the top of a sit-up to stare at Chas. “Oh yeah? Like what?”
“You’ll have to take a shower before I show you.”
He jumped up, dumping Chas unceremoniously on his side. “Done. I’ll be out of the shower in five minutes.”
SPENCER LISTENEDimpatiently as the international call took its sweet time clicking through the satellite to Japan. The woman who answered his call in Japanese switched seamlessly into English as soon as he asked in English to speak with Mr. Tanaka.
“Mr. Tanaka is a very busy man, sir. I can connect you to one of his personal assistants who may be able to help you.”
“Fine. Transfer me to the one who’s handling the kidnapping of his daughter.”
“Are you a journalist, sir?” the woman demanded coldly.
“No. I’m an American security contractor, and I have some information about his daughter that he’ll want to hear. My name is Spencer Newman.”
“One moment, sir.”
No surprise, he heard the clicks of recording devices and additional listeners coming onto the line. Were they Japanese government types, or was Tanaka relying on his own private security team? Spencer would bet Tanaka had gone private. Men like him tended to want total control of what happened around them. Now to earn the guy’s trust.
“Mr. Newman, you said your name was?” a man said at the other end of the line.
“Yes. Spencer Newman. You’ll know you have the right person in your frantic internet search when you don’t find squat about me. I’m a retired US Navy SEAL and maintain an extremely low profile.”
“Uhh, thank you, Mr. Newman.” The guy sounded surprised.
“I have an associate who has recently come into possession of a young child. My partner and I were taken from Langley to the Japanese Embassy yesterday and informed there that the child might be the missing Tanaka baby. Rather than continue to deal with middlemen and government flunkies, I thought it would be faster to speak directly with Mr. Tanaka.”
“One moment, please.”
Hah. He was right. Tanaka himself hadn’t been put on the line immediately. One moment turned into more like three minutes, and Spencer could readily envision the frantic briefing Tanaka’s security men were giving him about how to handle this phone call.
A British-accented voice that spoke fluent English came on the line. “Hello, Mr. Newman. This is Kenji Tanaka.”
“Thank you for taking my call. I’m hoping to cut through all the layers of bureaucracy and move along this process as quickly as possible for the sake of the child involved.”
“Continue,” Tanaka said cautiously.