“And that reminds me,” Klein said. “One issue we haven’t discussed is that you had some fairly highly radioactive material in your pocket for an undetermined amount of time. It’s all in the folder, but the doctor said it could cause problems with reproduction and that you should get regular cancer screenings going forward.”

Smith would have laughed if he didn’t know how excruciating it would be. “I think the family ship has sailed for me, Fred. And if I keep working for you, I doubt I’ll live long enough to have to worry about cancer.”

Klein seemed a little bothered by that and changed the subject. “I appreciate you getting the evidence out. There was no second chance on this.”

“What happened to it?”

“I have it locked down at the marina waiting for you.”

“Any thoughts on who attacked me? And who convinced Randi’s friend to turn on her?”

“We don’t need to talk about this right now, Jon. You should save your strength.”

“I’m awake and I’m guessing the TV’s in Korean. Give me something I can think about to take my mind off my back.”

“It had to be someone powerful,” Randi offered. “Noboru isn’t some small-time crook. I’d put his net worth at around a quarter of a billion dollars and his IQ high enough to know better than to piss me off. Now that I know you’re okay, I’ll be going back to Japan so he and I can have a little chat.”

“That might be problematic,” Klein said, retrieving an iPad from the table next to him. He tapped in a few commands and the television bolted near the ceiling came to life with video of a sprawling mansion overlooking the ocean. The flames consuming it looked to be rising more than a hundred feet in the air.

“This was captured by a Japanese news helicopter. Randi, I think you’ll recognize the building.”

“Noboru’s house.”

Klein nodded. “The blaze started about fifteen minutes after you were taken away.”

“Can I assume that he and his men were inside?”

“It would appear so. Obviously, the bodies are badly damaged but an initial autopsy suggests no sign of smoke inhalation. They were dead before the blaze started.”

“What about the men driving the car we were in?” Smith asked. “Did they work for Noboru?”

“I don’t think so. There wasn’t much time, but I had one of my men take a photo and the index finger of the driver—”

“The index finger?” Randi said, sounding impressed.

“I like to be thorough. Unfortunately, neither the photo, nor the fingerprint, nor a DNA analysis has revealed anything. Beyond his being of Japanese descent, I can’t tell you anything about that man. He doesn’t seem to exist.”

“What about the Japanese authorities?”