LADYLOVE

“We will stop by the safehouse first, but only to pick up your gear. Our middleman with the locals has a lead for us. Reach the safehouse in ten minutes, and another ten to our contact.”

Already? Things were moving fast. Good thing too, if he could be done with mission sooner, Theo thought.

And just as quickly it seemed, they raced through the town at breakneck pace. Maho’s style of driving was batshit-crazy, and perfectly in line with the rules of the road. 

The speedometer needle straddled what he supposed to be the speed limit but never got past, and every light and sign was followed impeccably. Yet the way she was taking corners, it was like she was driving a rally car. No wonder she was on time, he thought, driving like this.

The sights of the town– knots of commuters silhouetted against bare concrete and painted facades, gleaming decorated displays and shuttered overgrown lots, tangled power lines twanging over markered intersections, glimpses between buildings of a twin-stemmed tower in the distance, all streaked by the car window in a disjointed collage. 

She was taking them to the outskirts.

“So what was that about, back there?” she asked to the young man bracing himself against the dashboard.

“Maho-san, your guess is as good as mine– tried to help some granny out, and next thing I know I had the entire fisherman’s collective after me. That old woman was stealing fish for whatever goddamn reason.” he said, staving off queasiness by not staring at any one place for long. 

Without taking her eyes off the road, Maho replied.

“Whatever the reason, you have made quite the commotion. It will complicate this operation if I have to explain why my American friend was making trouble. Nobody made you?”

“No, I don’t think so. I was wearing shades– was never close enough to anybody for a good look. And I’ve had to change out of the getup, er–”

He corrected himself on the colloquialism.

“–the clothes I came in with, as you can see. Anyhow, that’s finished business now. Any updates I should know about the real order of business?” Theo managed to belch out between swerves.

Been a long time since he got motion sick.

Maho casually answered in-between gear shifts.

“We have a possible hit on the vehicles used to transport the collection, but nothing beyond that. More from our police contact.”

Just as Theo’s head was starting to spin again, Maho swerved one last time and came up on a two-story house.

From the stories told to him in the Unit, Theo knew that most safehouses amounted to a dingy apartment in the slums or somewhere out of the way. What passed for a middle-class Japanese domicile would resemble a mansion compared to the usual fare, and it prompted a low whistle from him.

Maho brought out a remote and keyed the garage gate open.

“It’s a new construction. The original owners could not finance it to completion. We finished it for them.“

Maho deftly backed it up, and then they were parked inside. Theo came out into the sparsely furnished garage, nothing more than a shelf laden with basic tools and some storage cases.

“And you managed to swipe it up for a good price, huh?” 

Not that Theo actually knew much about real estate, he was just trying not to throw up.

Maho showed him in and he saw that the interior was just as utilitarian.

Where there would probably be a living room, there was instead a couple of workbenches, filing cabinets, a standee whiteboard, wall maps of different scales. 

In the far corner someone had stacked hardcases, rucksacks and crates and draped it all over with canvas. It was all impeccably arranged, and all cloaked in the pale wash of barebones lighting. 

All the windows were blacked out with blinds, shutting the inside out from the rest of the world. 

Theo followed along one side and tapped a probing fist on the drywall.

“Neighbors?”

“The house and surrounding grounds are clear– no special measures required. Around here is mostly elderly, not difficult at all to get them to mind their own business. Gave me no trouble at all in the week I have been here.”

Theo nodded. They couldn’t seriously expect two-bit criminals to run counter-intelligence, but the Japanese were so far living up to their conscientious reputation.

Satisfied and recovering from the ordeal on the road, he straightened himself. It was time to take stock of his inventory. 

Theo himself had come to Japan in the ordinary manner, but the gear necessarily had to come into the country a different way.

He went straight for the hardcases. The Unit enjoyed an unprecedented degree of freedom to hand-pick its equipment, but when all is said and done attachments and gizmos are never a replacement for mastery of the basics. 

The elite-of-the-elite still trained with plain-jane M4s and HKs, wonder nines and forty-fives. 

He’d also been trained along those lines, with all the standard kit, but Theo was still in many ways a teen, and teens tend to have a contrarian streak. His selection for this mission attested to that.

First, his personal pistol: a custom Hi-Power, tritium front sight, trigger job, 4-inch threaded barrel with the compact “Detective” slide; dehorned and melted to feel like a piece of heaven in the palm of your hand, the dim fluorescent light playing along its blued finish.

Then the rifle: a special treat for him courtesy of the Japanese government, a Howa Type 89.
Its rounded matte black plastic furniture juxtaposed against the sleek steel frame and serrations of the Hi-Power.

Theo held the weapon with a covetous leer. 

These things were borderline impossible to get hold of abroad; the guys he knew who had gotten to fire it had only done so on multinational training ops. Distinguishing it as even more of a rarity, this was the folding-stock version. 

Theo hoped that he would get a chance to put this baby through its paces, see if he could run it with the Unit’s take on 5.56 before he had to hand it back, but going off recent developments that might be off the table.

If it was going to be like that, then he’d have to satisfy himself with getting to play with it while he can. Intellectually, he knew that what he had in his hands amounted to a Japanized version of a common design, but it was the novelty of the thing that excited him. It would have been much better if had gotten his hands on their new service rifle, too… 

Theo heard Maho speak her first words in Japanese under her breath, barely picking up on it.

“You’re a fish who’s found water, huh?.”

“My apologies. Got a bit too excited there, huh?” Theo replied, in her native language.

He wasn’t familiar with the figure of speech she’d used, but he figured he got the meaning well enough.

“That’s good Japanese.” she said approvingly.

“Twenty-four weeks of B-SOLT a while ago, and more recently two weeks of refresher training. I can manage a conversation, but the writing still eludes me.”

“That will more than suffice. But when we go out, leave the talking to me.”

“You speak good English yourself, Maho-san.” Theo said, changing back into English.

“It is far from perfect. The accent is still there, I know– but thank you.” she said back.

Theo turned to his host, showing the weapon off in his hands like it was a Christmas gift.

“The world-famous American enthusiasm for guns, yeah? ”

“You are American by birth?” she asked seemingly off-hand, having begun her own preparations by busying herself with the cabinets. She was referring to his vaguely Asian appearance, no doubt.

Theo weighed the needs of operational security before replying. It was obviously a little test, and he didn’t much appreciate the notion that he needed to be tested.

“Anyhow, we’re here as representatives of like-minded organizations. Let’s leave questions of nationality to the common folk.”

“And you are not ‘common folk’?” she asked. 

“To others it is permitted– to you it is not permitted.” he answered. 

“Excuse me?” 

It was his Japanese counterpart's turn to be confused by a figure of speech. In actuality, it was her introduction to his propensity for quotes. 

Theo was slow to respond, momentarily distracted by how loose the takedown pins were on the Howa as he field-stripped it. When he again turned to converse with Maho, he did so with the halves of the rifle in each hand.

“With our line of work, we have to be different.”

With that profession, he turned his full attention back to his task. 

One by one, he unpacked a choice number of weapons, working switches and slides, catches and controls, triggers and hammers with muted clicks as Theo verified that all were condition four, placing them down on the workbench– ready for action, but no magazine, nor round in the chamber. 

Then it was on to the ammunition: after confirming their condition as OK after transit, the magazines had to be loaded to capacity.

Working with skillful hands, it only took Theo a couple of minutes to finish readying his load-out; he was always loath to leave a rifle at home, but going light with a secondary and a couple of magazines was looking to be the order of the day. 

That kind of firepower was going to draw heat he didn’t need, and the locals probably won’t take too kindly to him carrying a mil-spec rifle out in the open.

He sifted through the rest of the storage for assault kit: among others, a carrier rig, ballistic plates, mid-ride holster. There was still a fireteam’s worth of equipment to go over, but anything thorough would have to come later, if ever.

Maho had finished with her task as well, and Theo learned just what that was when she selected some papers from a bulging file. These she smoothed down, squaring up the edges of the documents carefully and meticulously before handing them over to him.

There was one last go-over of their orders. Theo skimmed through the not-too-many pages typed out in both English and Japanese, but he already had the gist of it. This operations order– OPORD – was just a basic write-up, just to make sure they were on the same page.

It was a good thing they were in a hurry. At the sight of the teeming cabinets and the way she had handed over the order, he had felt a kneejerk pang of apprehension. 

This operation alone had no right to be weighed down with as much paperwork as those cabinets promised, and the verbal order his Japanese counterpart was about to give was apparently in spite of her own preferences.

Theo suddenly found himself longing for the lean, mean, on-the-ground command style that the Unit epitomized. This Japanese woman was looking to be more at home pushing papers than in the field. 

At least it's a verbal order. 

Maho called off the four parts of the document, and he responded.

“Situation?”

“A undetermined number of potentially unnatural objects have been tracked to Hokishi. No indications at this time that the collection has been moved, assume still within Area of Operations. Permissive operational environment, no issues anticipated with piggybacking off local law enforcement.“

Theo started to pace around the room as she read through to the next part. Maho’s eyes followed after him in mild disapproval.

“Mission?” she said. 

“Assess exact count of NESTEGGs in AO. Verify method of transportation. If unnatural, determine threat level. Secure for later pick-up and containment. Identify group of interest involved in transport, assess level of organization. Host country SOP applies to civilians exposed to unnatural phenomena.” he replied. 

Maho picked up after him to explain. “Amnestic protocol by qualified personnel– that is me. Liquidation is strictly a last resort.”

Theo looked up from his file. 

“Secure NESTEGGs? My people have a general torch and burn policy.”

“You will find that my organization has different views on that matter, Theo-san.“

“So you mean to study these things, figure out what makes them tick?”

“That is not for me to share. We will proceed as per the orders.”

Maho was about to advance to the next section before noticing Theo stopping in his tracks.

The subject had gotten his blood up, and he didn’t want to let the topic go without a fight.

“Yeah, need-to-know and all that. But my org reserves the right to prosecute objectives according to our SOPs. “ he said. 

“I have my instructions, and as your host that makes them your instructions. That settles that question.” Maho said patronizingly.

That was his limit. He blew up. 

“The hell it does!”

It was a breach of professional protocol, rooted in genuine concern.

In all his experience with the Unit, there was nothing to be gained from tinkering with the unnatural.

This woman’s experience, on the other hand, was an unknown to him, but Theo suspected she wouldn’t take kindly to a foreigner telling her how to do things. Not to mention their age gap.

She had been all smiles up to now, but he knew that if she was anything like most Japanese she would value seniority.

How far can this be pushed?

Theo decided to find out.

“Your people should’ve learned from the Brits and their pet vampire. This shit ain’t just some sword you can just swing around, stick in some closet, and melt down to figure how it works– that damn sword will swing itself right back at you, hang right over your head while you sleep, and skewer your stupid asses over a spit!” he thundered. 

With Theo’s deliberate over-step, any pretensions to cordiality disappeared from Maho’s demeanor.

Her next words were pure ice.

“Let me make one thing clear Lovell-kun. “

Even being a novice in the language, Theo instantly caught on to the honorific and the usage of his “last name”, if the change in the air hadn’t already clued him in.

“I will not have a kid who cannot even avoid making the local headlines on his first day challenge my operational control. Let me remind you how joint operations of this kind work– I am in charge here. ”

Maho stared right through the foreigner, as if to shove the following words down his throat.

“While you are in my country, you are under my command, and you will respect Japanese methods. Is that clear?”

Theo bristled. The foreigner had strained against his enclosure, and gotten a slap on the wrist. 

His strictly advisory role meant that he couldn’t count on having the weight of the Program behind him. It chafed at him to endure a tight leash, but this was the hand he’d been dealt.

He figured he’d only have to put up with Japanese sensibilities for a week at most, anyway. 

He tamped down on his anger. Nothing to do but click his heels like a good soldier.

“Crystal, ma’am.” Theo sounded off smartly.

With his acquiescence, Maho returned to the professional courtesy of before as she picked up where she left off. But her voice didn’t quite make it back.

“If SHELLBACK is within the AO, and positively identified?”

“Apprehend for extradition, if possible.”

“If not?”

“Terminate, with extreme prejudice.”

Evidently satisfied, Maho put the briefing down on a table with precise care, and scrutinized him some more– after that stunt, she must be thinking that he was an American through and through after all.

She came up with another set of papers and set it out.

“Our cover– investigation into illicit antiquities trade, Operation Andromeda. Our police contact is unaffiliated with my organization, so as far as he and the locals are concerned, this is the truth, and nothing but the truth.” 

To finish off the briefing, she held out a manila folder and a device.

“Your papers, and emergency communications.”

Taking the offered folder, he quickly sorted through the IDs and found all in order. He checked out the other item: a burner phone with exactly one contact entered in. He slipped it into his right-hand pocket.

“I am afraid a more detailed briefing will have to come later. We have an appointment.”

Maho got up with a start, picking up a few more papers and her own much lighter kit: a soft armor vest, duty pistol and holster. 

Theo followed suit, closing the place up and stashing the gear in the car.

As he settled back into the shotgun seat, he chose one of the IDs and slipped it into the badge holder it came with.

He was Special Agent Theo Lovell, completely legitimate– if a little bit wet behind the ears–representative for the Department of Homeland Security’s reductively titled Homeland Security Investigations arm. 

 At the time, it seemed sure that there would be no need for the Wolf.