GhostWalkers 10 - Samurai Game

Telecommunications was in the news all the time. It was an international corporation with offices in London, Tokyo, Washington, DC, and San Francisco. They were investing in Africa as well as making headlines by investing in Turkey. Eiji was usually the spokesperson, but Daiki was the undisputed leader and lauded to be the brains. Azami was always with them, but clearly in the background.
    Even with Dr. Lily Whitney-Miller, who was an acknowledged genius, Sam was used to being the smartest person in the room, often overlooked because he was a soldier, and people automatically discounted the brains of a soldier. He had the feeling Azami Yoshiie might be the smartest person in the room wherever she was—and those around her overlooked her because she was a woman. She stayed in the background deliberately, just as he often did. He found he could gather more intelligence that way, and he would bet his last dime that she used exactly the same tactic.
    He wasn’t certain why he was so on edge or felt as if they were in the opening gambit of a lethal chess game, but his alarm system was shrieking at him—loud.
    Lily says all three are who they say they are
. Nicolas “Nico” Trevane relayed Lily’s assurances. He was the undisputed best shot of the team, a sniper renowned for making impossible shots and the man Sam most wanted as a backup at that moment.
    It was Sam’s call then. Bring them up? Or dump the high-resolution satellite for the time being? Sam let his breath out slowly. There was no doubt the woman felt that small surge when Nico relayed Lily’s acknowledgment ofthe three identities. Her gaze had jumped to his and then once more did a careful survey of the rooftops.
    The first and second GhostWalker teams had made their homes in Montana, high in the mountains, their lands bordered by the Lolo National Forest. They were completely self-sufficient and could live for years off the land if they needed to do so. They had an impressive arsenal built up between the two teams as well as vehicles for winter, small planes, and a helicopter. Lily’s money had been put to good use. This high-resolution satellite would allow amazing surveillance. They had far too many enemies. They needed a secure way to check every order as well as to communicate with the other two teams making their fortress in San Francisco.
    “This way,” Sam directed, making up his mind.
    Again a flutter of indecision settled in his gut. This had
never
happened before. Sam always recognized an enemy. His eyes were enhanced. He saw tiny details others missed. He was highly skilled in recognizing lies. Their facial expressions remained serene, not giving away anything, yet some tiny flicker of signals his brain caught but he hadn’t yet defined told him something was off.
    As a rule, he was a gentleman and would offer to carry the woman’s bag, but he wanted his hands free. He hoped Nico or Kadan “Bishop” Montague, a powerful anchor and shield, lying up on the rooftops with a sniper rifle, would take note of that precaution. They both knew him, knew the way he worked. Anything out of the ordinary would alert them to possible danger.
    Thorn curled her fingers around the handle of her small travel bag. She couldn’t spot the shooters, but she knew they were there—she felt them now. The taste of psychic energy was in her mouth, impossible to ignore. Once she entered the SUV that would take them to the very lair of the GhostWalkers, she would no longer have a choice, not without killing someone. She would be fully committing her brothers to their course of action. Neither Daiki nor Eiji was enhanced,although they were well versed in the way of the samurai—Mamoru Yoshiie and his school had seen to that. They were extraordinary warriors, and she knew she could count on them. They had worked smoothly together over the last few years, but this would be their most dangerous mission yet. Did she have the right to risk their lives?
    “Ma’am?” Sam prompted.
    She sent him a small, demure smile, her gaze flicking to his. The moment their eyes met, she felt that hard punch in her stomach. A million butterflies took wing. He definitely had an effect on her. She gripped the handle of her bag and lifted it, indicating she would follow him.
    It was now or never. She had already set her plan in motion. She had to know all the players, and this man was a sacrifice, a “knight” in Whitney’s game to be given to a ruthless killer to be tortured