Chapter 20: A Change of Pace

The train screeched to a halt at the station platform.

Crowds of passengers poured off, a frantic, exhausted blur of bodies.

John, Hawk, and Mango moved with them, blending into the flow.

John glanced over his shoulder. At the front of the platform, the conductor was red-faced and yelling at a group of uniformed cops, arms waving wildly. He pointed to the damage done to his train while they were trying to shove pictures of various people in his face.

First time in Florida, John thought. Definitely not how I imagined it.

John could smell the ocean and sunny beaches from here. In the distance was the faint sound of people grilling fresh fish and bikinis splashing in water.

"Eyes forward," Hawk said, keeping his head down. "We regroup once we clear the station."

John nodded, but Mango quickly grabbed his arm..

"Wait a minute, I still have to talk to you," she said, jabbing a finger into his chest. "And who the hell is this?" she added, glaring suspiciously at Hawk.

John froze, fumbling for words. He didn’t want to give her any info by accident. He also didn’t know what she knew.

Mango was obviously underground-connected, but she didn’t recognize Hawk. That was an indication that she didn’t have the full picture. She probably didn’t know he was CIA. If the wrong people were watching, and someone definitely was, this wasn’t the place for a conversation.

"Uh..." John started awkwardly.

"My name’s Laz," Hawk said smoothly, cutting in without missing a beat. "One of John's old friends from our high school days."

He stuck out a hand casually. "And you are?"

Mango crossed her arms, not buying any of it. "If you must know, Laz," she said with air quotes, "I'm Mango. And your 'buddy' over here once tried to kill me."

"You tried to kill me first!" said John.

"Technicalities," Mango shrugged.

"Sure," Hawk—no, Laz—muttered.

"Look," John said, cutting across before it could get worse. "My brother just tried to kill both of us. Not just me. Both. He's not going to stop until every loose end is tied up—and you, Mango, are now a loose end."

Mango's mouth tightened. She didn't argue because she knew it was true. People that are willing to risk killing them with a helicopter definitely take the extra mile to clean up.If anything happened to her in the next few days, John’s brother would be the reason. And right now, John was the only one keeping her alive.

Mango scratched her head, clearly hating every second of this. "So what are you suggesting?" she asked.

"You come with us," John said, voice firm.

"What?" Laz said, yanking John to the side. He dropped his voice to a fierce whisper. "John, we cannot take her with us. That’s not protocol."

"Do you want her finding out we're C.I.A.?” said John. “That's a thousand times worse than breaking a field order. She doesn’t know anything. She just thinks I’m related to the guy who tried to kill her. That’s it."

"And?"

"And she's our only lead to what my brother’s planning."

Hawk sucked his teeth, grinding out his frustration. "Fine, but don’t blow our cover! Got it?"

"Got it Hawk," John said.

"And it’s Laz now. L-A-Z."

John nodded. "Fine, Laz," he said. Was that his real name or a cover?

From behind them, Mango crossed her arms.

"You know I can see you two whispering, right?"

They turned back to her.

"Anyway," John said loudly, pushing forward, "you’re coming with us. You owe me, remember? I saved your life."

"I saved you first," Mango said. "Back when that guy almost killed you in the cart."

"You were trying to kill me!" John snapped.

"Children," Laz said dryly. "Let’s move."

A reluctant truce.

For now.

***

"Okay, here we are," Laz said, stopping in front of the building.

"This is your safe house?" Mango asked, her voice riding the edge of a nervous laugh.

"Yeah," Laz said, raising an eyebrow. "Is there a problem?"

Mango opened her mouth, but then quickly shut it, forcing a tight smile. "No. No problem."

The three of them walked through the front doors into a 5 star hotel.

Mango hung back half a step, trying to take it all in.

Marble floors. Black, white, and gold décor. Crystal lighting fixtures worth more than most people’s cars. The air smelled like money. Clean, cold, and impossible to fake.

She didn’t even need to activate her Evaluate skill. She felt it. This place oozed wealth from every polished surface.

Mango had been through Fort Lauderdale before. Done a few jobs. Hit a few targets.

But she had never stayed anywhere like this. The hotel was tucked out of the city center, almost forgotten by the usual tourist traffic but the people moving through the lobby were clearly well connected. Designer suits. Diamond watches. Expensive colognes and perfumes that clung to the air like fog.

Old instincts itched at the back of her mind. A few sticky finger jobs in this place, and she could set herself up for six months easy.

But she pushed the feeling down. Not tonight. Not with Peter still hunting them.

For now, she had a common enemy with John and Laz, and survival came first. She figured John must’ve paid for it. It seemed like one of those expensive, private hotels that you only stay at if invited.

However, she didn’t know Laz. He was clearly older than them. At least 28 or 30. He is obviously aware of John’s family background, otherwise why would he have had a rocket launcher. Yet, he said that he was a friend of John’s from high school. When John was in high school or was he implying they went together?

She’d have to keep her eyes on the both of them.

The woman behind the counter, long blonde hair pinned back into a perfect twist, looked up.

Her eyes lit up the second she saw Laz.

No words.

Just a silent nod and a room key handed over like it was standard procedure.

Mango frowned. "You reserved this place before or something?" she asked.

"You could say I come here a lot," Laz said casually, pocketing the key. "It’s out of the way. Discreet."

John frowned, "Isn’t this place... kinda loud?"

Laz shrugged. "The best place to hide," he said, "is in plain sight."

They headed for the elevators and went up halfway to the 11th floor. They followed Laz to the room and were shocked when he showed them what was inside.

Inside the room, Mango's instincts twitched again.

The room was massive—living room in the center, two bedrooms on either side, each with its own private bathroom. A luxury bunker dressed up in black marble and gold accents. A balcony that overlooked the ocean.

She hovered near the door, not fully stepping inside yet.

This wasn't her world. Being a thief, and part-time assassin, meant you didn’t spend long anywhere. Accommodations were just another tool: a bed, a shower, a window to crawl out of if things went south.

You didn’t waste time or money on comfort you weren’t planning to keep. Forty-eight hours. That was usually the rule. Mango crossed her arms, surveying the room.

This? This was the kind of place you stayed when you wanted to pretend you weren't running for your life. None of them had any luggage. No bags. No gear. Just what was on their backs.

As soon as they stepped inside the suite, they went straight to work. Laz pointed to the couch and chairs clustered around the low table. They all sat down. Tension finally loosening.

"So what do we know?" Laz asked.

John leaned back, crossing his arms. "Well, we know we were sabotaged-" he said, throwing a look at Mango, voice dripping sarcasm.

"Are you seriously gonna hold that against me forever?" Mango asked..

"Probably."

Laz rolled his eyes and kept his focus sharp. "I know Peter, your brother, is still trying to acquire the codes to activate the laser on the satellite," he said. "Bailiff was his contact. You were supposed to point him out. But since the op got blown to hell, we’re not even sure where Peter is anymore."

Mango leaned back, thinking.

Then it hit her.

A memory of a possible slip during their conversation. When she’d last spoken to Peter, he'd casually mentioned he wouldn't be able to meet her in person. That’s why he had her meet with his contact.

Said he was flying out to Tokyo. She hadn’t thought much of it at the time. Figured it was just another lie.

But now it made sense. Dead women didn’t need to be lied to. If Peter thought she was as good as dead, there was no reason to deceive her.

"Tokyo," Mango said suddenly. "He could be in Tokyo."

Both John and Laz turned to her, surprised.

"You sure?" Laz asked.

"He said he was going to Tokyo. That’s why he had me meet with his contact instead of him personally."

John scratched the back of his head. "That... actually checks out," he admitted. "My brother's obsessed with sumo wrestling."

"Sumo?" Laz said.

John nodded. "Biggest fan you’ll ever meet."

"Actually," Laz said, thinking aloud, "there’s supposed to be a huge sumo championship coming up."

John immediately pulled out his phone, fingers flying across the screen.

"Here!" he said, flashing the screen to Laz. "The Nobunaga International Championship. Two top-ranked wrestlers facing off. Three days from now. His contact probably is flying over there to meet him. If that’s true, it could get two birds with one stone."

"Then that’s probably where he’ll be," Laz said as he snatched the phone from John’s hand a little too quickly.

Mango noticed. She wasn’t stupid.

Who the hell are these guys really?

This Laz guy wasn’t just some college buddy. And he sure wasn’t acting like a civilian. Still, if she were trying to save her friend, she guessed she'd be eager too.

Then Laz frowned. "It says the event’s exclusive. There are no tickets or anything. Damn! How the hell are we supposed to get inside?”

But Mango wasn’t listening anymore. Something Laz said earlier stuck in her mind.

"Wait... back up," Mango said, holding up a hand. "Did you just say something about a satellite? Like ‘in space’ satellite?"

John and Laz exchanged a look.

That heavy, loaded look.

Mango's instincts flared. "You did," she said, voice sharp. "And lasers. From space?"

Laz nodded at John. John cleared his throat.

"Well my family deals mostly in high class weapons. My brother," John said, voice flat, "is trying to hijack a satellite. Military-grade. It’s got the ability to fire energy-based weapons from orbit. And he's planning to use it to threaten cities. Governments. Anyone he wants."

Mango laughed. "A space laser?" she scoffed. "You seriously expect me to—?"

But when she looked at them, John and Laz, they weren’t smiling.

They weren’t joking.

Stone-cold serious.

No cracks. No smirks. No doubt.

Her stomach dropped. If she had really killed John like she was supposed to, there could be a manic controlling everyone with a gun pointed at Earth.

Shit.

"What kind of people are you?" Mango asked.

"The kind who know killers when we see one," said Laz. "And the kind who knows Peter won’t stop until he burns half the world down."

"I hate to admit it," John said, voice low, "but Laz is right. You think Peter went after you today? Wait until he’s got a goddamn orbital death ray."

Mango clenched her fists, a cold sweat breaking over her skin. This wasn’t some messy assassination or double-cross. This wasn’t a petty underworld feud.

This was apocalyptic.

Way bigger than anything she’d ever touched. Way bigger than anything she’d ever wanted to touch. It felt like she’d stumbled straight into the middle of some blockbuster movie.

Except this wasn’t fiction. This was her life now.

And if she didn’t play it smart, it would be her death too.

Mango sat still for a long second, her mind racing.

She was a thief. She had killed before, sure. Jobs went bad. Targets got crossed off. But blow up an entire city just to make a point?

No.

She couldn’t let that happen.

"Maybe I can steal some passes," Mango said, breaking the silence.

"You’re a thief?" Laz said, eyebrow raised.

"A thief with a FOCUS," Mango said proudly. "And if you're friends with John, I assume you might have one too."

Laz’s eyes widened slightly—just for a second.

It was enough. She knew she was right.

They’re hiding things, Mango thought. But I don’t really care what kind of FOCUS they have. Not right now.

John shook his head. "Unfortunately for us, they're electronic passes," he said. "Biometric security. Top of the line. And with Peter there? The place will be locked down tighter than a government vault."

He grimaced.

"And I don’t have the hacking skills to crack it."

“What? How does that make sense?” asked Laz. “This is a public event. It’s just sumo wrestling.”

“Not this one. This is the Nobunaga International Championship. Named after Oda Nobunaga, this is a private event.”

“I think I’ve heard of it before,” said Mango. “But I can’t remember why.”

“If you're really plugged into the underworld, it’s at the tip of the iceberg because of how popular it is. There’s a private gala afterwards. You have to be dressed up and everything.”

“Really? What makes it so exclusive?”

“It’s a duel to the death,” John said coldly.

Mango and Laz both gave each other a confused look.

“Sumo…to the death?” said Laz.

“Oda Nobunaga was a Japanese daimyō in the Sengoku and Azuchi-Momoyama period,” said John. “To many, he’s the "Great Unifier" of Japan. However, in this context, they’re referring to his other name: Demon Daimyō. It takes place on a platform that is raised above the ground. Below is a big pit full of liquid.

There’s two rounds of upstarts. Just openers. The goal is to throw the loser outside the ring. However, each time someone is thrown over the line, the circle platform gets smaller until the last round where someone is thrown off the platform.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” said Mango. “They can just swim out.”

“The last round, the liquid is set on fire and the loser burns alive,” said John in a dark tone.

“Jesus.” said Laz.

“The championship is different,” John continued. “The platform is raised even higher and most importantly, the liquid is lit on fire from the beginning. These are the types of people we’re dealing with. They causally watch people burn alive. Because they’re that rich. Because they’re that powerful. Because they’re that bored.”

They all sat around in silence, tension thick.

Then John exhaled, heavy, and walked over to the window.

Mango watched him, narrowing her eyes. He was thinking hard.

"What is it?" Mango asked.

John tied his shoe and then turned.

"I might have one idea to get us in," he said. "I could... contact my sister."

Both Laz and Mango practically rocketed to their feet.

"What?!" Laz yelled. "You’re gonna make contact with your sister?" His voice was sharp, almost frantic. "You do remember she’s the one who tricked you into being blown you out of a building, right?!"

Mango’s jaw dropped. "You got blown out of a building?"

John shrugged, like he was talking about stubbing his toe. "Yeah. Five-story window. Boston Harbor."

"And you’re alive?" Mango said, stunned.

"What can I say? I'm hard to kill. You should know. Firsthand."

Mango sucked her teeth, scowling, but she couldn’t argue.

John was the first person she had ever fought who survived and came that close to killing her.

And he was still standing here. Cool, confident, unshaken.

He stood by the window, the light cutting across his sharp jawline, the silhouette of his tall, athletic frame outlined by the dying sun.

Something stirred in Mango’s chest. She could feel something seeping into her whole system. She hated that she loved it..

Maybe in another life, another time, things could have been different.

But this wasn’t that kind of story. This was survival. Only survival.

John turned back to them, flipping a small white business card between his fingers.

"My sister gave me this at the funeral," he said. "Told me to call her when the time was right."

He tossed it onto the table.

"I figure whatever she has to tell me—it’s big. Either way, if it has to do with electronics, she can get us in there. We’ll have everything we need to get into that event."

The card read: Call Me, John.

No other information on the front or back.

Laz frowned, scratching his chin.

"And while you’re buddying up to family," Laz said, "what exactly are we supposed to do?"

Mango stood up and stretched her arms lazily over her head. "Take a damn shower," she said. "I'm not doing anything until I stop smelling like blood, sweat, and cheap train seats."

"Fine," Laz grumbled. "I’ll grab us new clothes. Something low-profile."

He pointed at John.

"Make the call. But don’t do it on anything they can trace. Use the hotel's public phone downstairs. No screw ups."

Mango looked at him, serious now. "You really think she’s gonna help you?" she asked.

"I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want to get blown to smithereens either," said John. “Or at least, that’s what I’m betting on.”

***

Downstairs, John approached the bellhop. "Excuse me, where’s the public phone?"

The kid smiled politely and pointed toward a sleek black phone tucked by a small lounge area.

"Thanks," John muttered, heading over.

He pulled out the card his sister gave him. Blank on the back. Front side: three words burned into the cardstock.

Call Me, John.

No number. No hint. Just a puzzle.

His sister loved games, puzzles and brain teasers. To the point that he wasn’t sure if they came from the same side of the family tree.

If she wanted him to call her, really call her, she would've handed him a number.

But that would've been too easy. And too easy meant tapped by the agency or possibly taken by someone else who would have access to her contact.

It had to be something only he would understand.

John stared at the words, thinking hard.

Then it clicked.

Old school texting phones.

If you mapped the letters to numbers—C-A-L-L-M-E-J-O-H-N—you’d get a sequence.

Only problem: the hotel's phone didn’t have letters over the numbers.

"FOCUS," John whispered.

<<<>>>

[FOCUS is active. How may I be of assistance?]

<<<>>>

"List the skills I have available."

<<<>>>

[Affirmative.]

[Listing active skills:]

[Skill 1: Analyze (Level 1)]

[Skill2: Shadow Step (Level 1)]

[Skill 3: Combat (Level 1)]

[Skill 4: (Empty)]

[Skill 5: (Empty)]

<<<>>>

"Use Analyze on this card. Check the letter for a phone number sequence."

<<<>>>

[Analyst Type skill, Skill 1: Analyze. Activating]

[Analyzing card...]

[Conversion complete: 2 2 5 5 6 3 5 6 4 6.]

<<<>>>

A slow grin crept onto John’s face. He punched the numbers in eagerly, hand steady.

The phone rang once.

Twice.

Click!

An old man’s voice barked through the line.

"Hello?! Who’s this?!"

John blinked. "Uh... is this-?"

"You called ME, you little punk! If this is Drake again, I’ll cut your damn heart out!"

John snorted and the man hung up.

Great.

It wasn’t that easy.

He stared at the card again.

There’s another piece. Gotta think…We’re Black Italians.

His family used international codes all the time.

John reset the call, this time adding the Italian international code: +39

Then dialed the sequence.

The issue is that the number didn’t really make sense. It was an American number with an Italian code, but he dialed anyway.

The line rang.

"Hello, John," a familiar, dangerously sweet voice cooed from the other side.

His sister.

Jade.

"Glad to hear you're still alive," she added playfully.

John's face twisted. "Yeah? Is that why you blew me out a window?"

"Hey!" she snapped back, mock-offended. "I gave my baby brother a chance to see the harbor after being gone for so long. You can't blame a girl for trying."

"You also gave Peter the same chance."

Jade laughed—a light, musical sound that didn't fit the conversation at all.

"Of course," she said. "But let's be honest. I always knew I'd be the last one standing."

John snorted. "If you think I’m gonna beg you for help-"

"You should," Jade interrupted sharply. "Might be the smartest thing you've ever done."

"Never happening," John said coldly. "Not in a million years."

Silence.

Then Jade sighed, her tone flipping sharp and businesslike. "Fine. Then why the hell are you calling me?"

"I need your help," John said, grinding it out.

"Of course you do."

"Listen, Peter’s not just running some scam. He’s about to hijack a satellite. Real power. Real death. If he gets it, he won’t just kill me, he'll wipe out cities full of innocent people just to prove a point."

"Sounds like your problem," Jade said flatly. "Not mine. He doesn’t even know where I am."

"Yeah, but I have a feeling you want him to lose... even more than you want me to."

A pause.

Longer this time.

When Jade finally spoke, her voice was different. Bouncy but cautious.

"Maybe," she said. "Peter can be... unreasonable."

That was putting it lightly.

Peter was a walking nuke with a hair trigger. Always had been. John and Jade both knew it. They had a common enemy now.

"You help me," John said. "And maybe, just maybe, I can handle this sooner than later."

Silence again.

Then he heard a long sigh.

"Fine," Jade said. "What are you thinking?"

"I need your help getting into an event. Sumo wrestling," John said.

"Excuse me?"

"There’s an international championship in Tokyo. Peter’s supposed to be there. It's invite-only. Electronic passes. Locked down tight."

Jade chuckled.

"The Nobunaga? Sumo, God. No matter how much things change, they stay the same."

"He’s been a wrestling fanatic since we were kids."

"I’ll help you. But one condition."

John tightened his grip on the receiver.

"Fine," John said. "What is it?"

"I don't really like mass destruction," she said casually, "You are going to promise me that you're going to actually take care of Peter."

"That's what I plan to do," John answered quickly.

"No, you’re not. I know you. You're going to try to find a way to keep him alive."

Her words slammed into him harder than any bullet. Of course his sister is one of the few people who see right through him. He’s on the side of the law. If there was a way to keep them alive, he would do it. He’d rather they rot in a cell than in hell.

"Don't," she said. "You kill him, John. You promise me that, and I’ll help you."

John swallowed, throat dry. There was a lump in his chest he couldn't quite shove down. He had come too far to show weakness now.

"Fine," he said quietly. "You have my word."

"Good," Jade said smoothly.

Then her voice dropped into something almost playful. "I see you're in a hotel in Fort Lauderdale."

John stiffened.

"You tracked this call that fast?"

Jade chuckled. "John, I can see you through the camera. You’re using the phone on the left side of the hotel lobby."

A bead of sweat slid down the side of his face. He didn't dare look for the cameras. Wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.

Knowing Jade, it could be the hotel's system, something she personally planted or something else. Didn’t matter. What she was really telling him is not to double cross her. She can find him and he can’t find her.

She’s always been two steps ahead, he thought. After this thing with Peter is over, I’ll have to even that playing field.

Still, John just shrugged like it was nothing. He couldn’t show her that it bothered him.

"So?"

"So? Haha. Damn, it’s so good to see you. Weird time, but still." said Jade, "someone will deliver a package to the front desk for you. Inside, you’ll find the electronic passes. And just in case those don’t work, I'm including one of my own devices. Something to override digital security."

John frowned. "I don't remember Dad teaching you to make anything like that."

"That's because he didn’t," Jade said. "I did. Lot’s changed. We’ve changed.”

John exhaled through his nose, furious and impressed at the same time. He hated siding with her. Jade was smarter than him. Sharper than him. Always had been.

And deep down, he knew that this was another one of her games. She was playing him. Maybe it wasn’t obvious now, but soon she would pull the rug out. Still... there were no other options.

"Fine," John said, his voice colder now. "But when I'm done with Peter...You and I are gonna have a serious talk."

“Sure, we’ll talk as long as you want, haha!”

John sighed. “I wish things weren’t so complicated.”

The line was silent again for a moment.

Then Jade spoke. “I know. I’d always imagine you two would work for me… Like dad and his siblings.”

“There might be hope for us. If there is, I’ll find it.”

"Of course you will… I can't wait to see you again little Johnny," Jade said in the sweetest tone. Then the line went dead.

John lowered the phone, wiping his forehead. His hand came away wet with sweat. He didn’t know if it was nerves or anger. Maybe both.

But one thing was clear, if Jade was already watching him, then Fort Lauderdale wasn’t safe. Anyone could be watching from anywhere. This was supposed to be a safe house, and yet his siblings have been picking apart his every move.

Maybe it was time to get more creative.