Chapter 9 - Eyes from the Tower
The threat was absolute.
City officials had no idea that San Francisco’s water supply was rigged with industrial toxins—Lord Kazama had spent two years secretly corrupting municipal engineers to build his failsafe.
Inside the Mercer command room, Renzo stood before a tactical map of The Imperial Sun, a two-hundred-foot luxury yacht anchored three miles off the coast of the Golden Gate Bridge.
"We can't attack with heavy gunships," Lev explained, pointing at the blueprints. "Kazama holds the master detonator on a biometric wristband linked to his heart monitor. If we shoot him from afar, his heart stops, and the signal sends the detonation command to the water plants."
"Then we have to disarm the transmitter manually from inside his control room before taking him down," Renzo said, his eyes cold and sharp. "I’m going aboard."
"You can't go alone, Renzo!" Claire gasped, standing near the table. "He’s expecting you!"
"He’s expecting me to bring Ivy," Renzo said. He turned to look at Ivy, who was standing quietly by his side. "And that’s exactly what we are going to make him think."
Ten minutes later, Renzo laid out the plan.
Ivy would not go onto the ship. Instead, she would be stationed inside a high-powered police surveillance helicopter hovering two miles away, equipped with a military-grade thermal optic camera that could zoom in through the glass windows of the yacht’s command bridge.
"From the chopper, Ivy can see every room through the windows," Renzo explained, resting his hands on Ivy’s shoulders. "She will read Kazama’s lips as he gives orders to his engineers, and relay the disarming codes to me over my earpiece in real-time."
Ivy looked up, her face filled with unshakeable courage. "I can do it, Renzo. I won't mess up."
Renzo knelt down, pulling a small silver chain from his neck. Suspended on it was a tiny polished obsidian stone—his personal lucky charm. He placed it around Ivy’s neck.
"You are the bravest girl I have ever known," Renzo whispered. "Keep your eyes sharp, little bird."
By 5:30 PM, the chopper was in position, hovering silently in the clouds above the bay.
Inside the cabin, Ivy sat with high-tech optical goggles strapped over her eyes, connected to a screen showing the bridge of The Imperial Sun. Beside her, Claire held her hand tightly, praying with every breath.
On the yacht below, Renzo walked onto the main deck, escorted by four armed guards. He was surrounded by thirty Yakuza soldiers holding rifles.
At the end of the deck sat Lord Kazama—an eighty-year-old man in a traditional silk kimono, sitting in a wheelchair, holding a electronic tablet connected to his wristband.
"You came alone, Mercer," Kazama rasped, his eyes narrowing. "Where is the child?"
Through the helicopter screen two miles away, Ivy’s eyes locked onto Kazama’s moving lips.
"Renzo!" Ivy’s clear voice echoed inside Renzo’s concealed earpiece. "He’s lying! He doesn't have the detonator on his wrist—it's hidden inside the silver cane next to his chair! The code to disarm it is 9-4-7-2-Alpha!"
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Renzo’s lips twitched into a microscopic smile.
"She isn't coming, Kazama," Renzo said aloud, stepping closer. "Because your game is already over."
