[Thomas Caine #1] Tokyo Black Read Online Free Page A

snarl.
    Lau gasped in fear and tried to shield himself with his hands. Mark grabbed him by his shirt, hoisted him into the air, and threw him back against the wall with all his strength.
    He pummeled Lau’s pudgy face, first in a series of measured, one-two strikes. But soon the punches became more erratic. Each wild swing battered Lau’s flesh with a dull thud.
    “You have no idea!” Mark screamed. “No idea what you’ve done! You hear me, you piece of shit?”
    Mark’s fist rose to strike again, when he felt a sudden blunt impact on the back of his head. He dropped to the ground as more blows rained down on his body. Several Royal Police had stormed the room: in his rage, Mark had left his back to the door.
    One of the officers helped Lau to his feet. The traitor could barely stand, but he pushed the officer away from him. He grabbed a white towel from a bottle of champagne in the corner to wipe the blood from his mangled face.
    He knelt down in front of Mark.
    “I know exactly what I did, farrang. I did what you afraid to do. You don’t belong here anymore. You never did.”
    Lau stood back up and took a long, hard look at Mark, who was moaning and rolling on the floor. His leg shot out, kicking Mark in the face. The force of the blow rolled Mark onto his back. He stared up at the blurred faces of Lau and the policemen.
    A lone thought went through Mark’s mind before he slipped into unconsciousness. After he was arrested, the name “Mark Waters,” along with his fingerprints, would be processed through Interpol’s computers.  The results would show up on the daily logs of every intelligence service in the Western world.
    That was going to cause problems since his name was not, in fact, Mark Waters.
    It was Thomas Caine.

CHAPTER THREE
    Rebecca Freeling ran.
    Raindrops bounced off her skin as she drove her body forward. Her long, lean legs moved back and forth with smooth, rhythmic precision. Her arms pumped in time to each step.
    The early morning sky was cold and grey. Ominous rolling clouds were backlit by the first stirrings of sunlight. This was the meridian between day and night. Light and darkness. This was her favorite time. This was when she ran.
    She shifted her weight as the road curved around a grassy hill. The soles of her running shoes gripped the wet pavement as she leaned into the turn. She was careful not to push too hard. Some runners had taken nasty spills on this part of the route, and the last thing she needed was a broken leg or twisted ankle. The thought of months in recovery, trapped, unable to run … a shiver ran through her body. She dug in as she left the turn behind, picking up speed on the straightaway.
    She struggled to clear her mind of stress and fear. No job. No compromises. Just the rain, and wind, and the smooth, percussive beat of her footsteps.
    An electronic chirping interrupted her serenity.
    Rebecca moved to the shoulder of the road and slowed to a stop. She stretched her arms up as high as she could, arching her back like a cat. The cellphone clipped to her waist continued its soft ringing. It would go on forever, she knew. There was no voicemail. When that phone rang, she was expected to pick it up, come hell or high water.
    As her breathing returned to normal, she tapped the screen to answer.
    “Go ahead.”
    The voice on the other end had the nasal, high-pitched whine of a teenager, though Ethan Maslin was in his twenties. Ethan was her information specialist, a hacker busted in an FBI sting operation. Now, to avoid a jail sentence, he put his talents to work for the CIA.
    “How do I know it’s you? Maybe you’ve been kidnapped and replaced by a robot duplicate.”
    Rebecca sighed. “It’s too early for this, Ethan. I’m in the middle of a run.”
    “You know, you do work behind a desk Rebecca. What’s with all the exercise? Do you have field ops envy?”
    “The better to kick your ass with, Ethan. Hanging up now—”
    “Wait! Bernatto called. He’s set