Page 1 of Dan

CHAPTER ONE

Dan Antoine Robicheaux was a big man. Bigger than most. Of course, his father, Ryan Robicheaux, was a big man at six-feet-three. His mother, Paige Anderson Robicheaux, was five-feet-ten. His grandfathers were both over six-feet-three, and his uncles were all big men. It was nearly impossible to be small.

Still, trying to look small in a place where you stood head and shoulders above everyone else seemed nearly impossible.

Dan let his mind wander for just a moment to a childhood memory. They’d been playing hide and seek on the grounds of Belle Fleur. None of them could figure out how the girls always won and the boys always lost. The only boys who seemed to win were the Redhawk and Wolfkill boys. Mostly because they climbed up trees like spider monkeys, disappearing into the lush foliage.

Chuckling to himself, he shook his head, wishing for the millionth time in a month that he was home for good.

He looked at his friend and teammate, Brady Sutton. His entire SEAL team was considered one of the best.

Like his grandfather, Dan Anderson, better known as Wilson, he decided on the SEAL teams. His paternal grandfather, Antoine Robicheaux, had been a Ranger, just like all his brothers except one. His father, Ryan, was a brilliant engineer and mathematician. He’d done something very stupid when he was young, causing him the loss of his arm.

Never one to hide things from his son, he’d told Dan the entire story when he felt he was old enough to understand. To Dan, it was the cautionary tale of never doing anything illegal.

“Robicheaux, your fucking head is sticking above the crowd,” said one of the other men.

“I can’t help it. It sticks above my shoulders, and this is fucking Japan. Everyone is so fucking tiny I can’t help but be noticed.”

“Yeah, brother, but you’re seriously sticking out. If anyone starts shooting, you’re first because you’re an easy mark.” Dan let out a long slow breath, adjusting his baseball cap. There wasn’t a damn thing he could do about his height when part of the op was to walk along the street and appear natural.

Natural. That was the fucking problem. At six-feet-six it was difficult to look natural when the rest of the population averaged below five-feet-ten.

“I’m not sure why in the hell we’re here anyway,” he growled into comms. “I don’t see Yakito or any of his men. Why in the fuck would they be in the city center of Tokyo? This isn’t their territory, and it’s not where they would make a buy.”

“This is exactly where they would make a buy. No one to pay attention to them. Just look for their trademark look. Shaved heads, dressed like monks but multiple piercings and tattoos.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” remarked Dan. “I see a café up ahead. I’m gonna grab something and take a seat so I don’t stand out.”

Dan ducked his head as he went inside the sidewalk café. Speaking perfect Japanese, he asked for a hot green tea and half a dozen of the black sesame cookies he loved so much. The tiny little girl behind the counter smiled up at him, blushing and giggling in an annoyingly tiny voice. It was not something that he enjoyed at all.

He was used to strong, direct, confident women. He thanked the woman and then walked toward a vacant table. She had a little pout on her face, hoping to catch his attention, but when she didn’t, he heard her make a comment to her coworker.

“Giant American think he’s special.”

“You thought he was special,” laughed the other girl. Dan ignored both young girls, staring out the window.

Miso Yakito had been attempting to broker arms and nuclear devices for years. Many thought he was at the heart of the nuclear disaster at Fukushima. At the time, he was an engineer working in the plant but was often overheard saying that the plant was unsafe and would destroy all of Japan.

When the plant decided to terminate his employment, he made it very clear that they would regret it. Since he knew the layout of the nuclear facility, the dynamics, and functionality, it seemed obvious that he was the man.

That, and he was seen running from the plant moments before it began to meltdown. Since that time, numerous photos and encounters showed that he was attempting to do the same thing again. Buy weapons, buy nuclear power sources, or destroy them.

“I see him,” said Dan. “Three o’clock, walking with four other men.”

“Stay low, Robicheaux. Don’t move until we give the signal.”

Dan frowned to himself, taking another bite of cookie. Staring at Yakito, he couldn’t believe the bastard was bold enough to attempt something in front of all of Tokyo. The city was known for the number of traffic and street cameras in the city, as well as local law enforcement on every corner. Everyone would see him.

Wait. Everyone would see him.

“Get back! Get back!” called Dan into comms. “He’s got something beneath his robe!”

He watched as his team stepped back into the recesses of the buildings or blended in with the crowds of people. They stared at the man on the other side of the street.

Dan spotted a tsunami warning alarm high on a light pole and knew he could reach it. If he did, crowds would scatter, and perhaps whatever Yakito was going to do would be less impactful.

Leaving his tea and cookies, he reached high up the pole, pulling the warning alarm. The blaring alert was so loud, everyone heard it. Crowds scattered, heading into buildings to get as high as they could.

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