On the airplane, Tomo stared out the window at Eurasia passing below her and thought about her new assignment. After six months of pointless paperwork, she'd been called into the office of Liesl Bundig, Assistant Director of Police Services. Director Bundig was small, bespectacled, blonde, and pleasant, and held black belts in various martial arts disciplines. She was, in fact, one of the most dangerous women in Northern Europe, and had been put in charge of the new, unnamed, special intelligence unit.

Tomo was going to be part of that unit, Liesl told her, and would be taking on one of its first assignments. A hostage situation in the South Pacific, she said – the kidnapper and his retinue were Japanese, which is why a Japanese agent would need to head the mission.

Tomo really liked the word "mission."

"There are a hundred and twenty hostages, approximately," Liesl said. "They're on a small tropical island, which was advertised as a resort. It's called Iyaman, about forty miles west of Nomanisan. The hostages are vacationers from seventeen countries – they thought they were getting a cheap vacation and ended up as leverage for the kidnapper's demands."

"Which are?"

"Enough nuclear material for three large bombs," Liesl said grimly. "You see why we can't negotiate. He claims it's not for a weapon, but an 'experiment.'"

"Oooo. An insane genius," Tomo said.

"Well, right now we're just working with 'insane,'" Liesl said. "His – okay, it's a fortress – has been unable to be reached by…normal means. And of course he's threatened to harm the hostages if there's any military intervention. The UN has given us jurisdiction. That's where you come in."

"Hm. Hmmmm…. So should I sneak in, or go in guns blazing?"

The thought of Tomo with a gun made Liesl shiver. "Well, we realized you're not going to be able to do this alone. We've put together suggestions for an international team – "

"I've got a team in mind already," Tomo said. "Civilians, but they've got special talents. They're really good at what they do."

"How – I mean, who are they?" Things were just getting weirder. Who were the members of this crazy team that this crazy cop had pulled together in mere seconds?

Tomo told her.

"Hmmmm," said Liesl. "The scientist I know of, but – Wait, the swimmer. Wasn't she in the Olympics?"

"Bronze medalist," Tomo said, smugly. She was radiating pride. "Yep, third place. Not as good as first or second, but still…."

Liesl stared. "What are you so proud of? It's not YOUR bronze medal."

Tomo didn't miss a beat. "So should I go get them?"

Liesl glanced at the list of names. She vaguely recognized the author, too – nominee for a Japanese literary prize? Liesl kept up on a LOT of current events. It was part of her job.

She took another look at Takino's record with the Tokyo Police and the observation Interpol had done on her for the last six months. Takino was brash, annoying, combative, overconfident, and, above all, unconventional. But she seemed to have a knack for solving cases that would baffle a normal officer. The underwear incident, for example. Moronic. And, simultaneously, brilliant.

One thing was clear to Liesl from the case at hand. In the kidnapper, she was dealing with a lunatic. But perhaps the best way to fight lunacy was with lunacy. And with Takino – currently clicking her retractable pen over and over and asking, hopefully, "Does this annoy you?" – she definitely had the lunatic she needed.

"Get them together and meet me in San Francisco in a week," she said.

Which was why Tomo was now headed from Narita Airport to the financial district. She preened in the cab, then thought for a minute and zipped up her jumpsuit. It wouldn't do to arrive at Yomi's office looking TOO much like a sexy spy. She might give those stodgy financiers some ideas, and then they wouldn't get anything done all day.

"Koyomi Mizuhara, please," she said at the reception desk. The building was sleek and modern. So was the reception desk. So was the receptionist. She glared at Tomo, and glanced down at the employee list. Mizuhara. Junior analyst, fifteenth floor.

"Is she expecting you?" the receptionist said icily.

"Um," said Tomo. "Yes. Yes, of course she's expecting me. Why wouldn't she be expecting me?"

"Well, then, let me see." She picked up the phone and dialed. "Ms. Mizuhara, your guest is here… What? Oh. I see." She glared at Tomo, again. "Ms. Mizuhara is not expecting any guests."

"Tell her it's Tomo. It won't be a problem," Tomo said confidently.

"Ms. Mizuhara? She says her name is Tomo and… What? Oh. What? No, I can't call security without a reason. Excuse me? No, she's just standing here." A long pause while a familiar voice buzzed angrily at the other end of the line. "All right, I'll send her up." The receptionist looked at Tomo. "Fifteenth floor. And she says if you press all the buttons on the elevator again, she'll have you thrown out of the building."

The fifteenth floor was a network of precise cubicles, in which precise men and women made precise transactions. Tomo wondered which one was Yomi's, but didn't have to worry – her friend was bearing down on her, wearing a severe suit, her trademark glasses, and a furious expression. Wordlessly she grabbed Tomo's arm and dragged her into a tiny office, slamming the door behind them.

"Didn't I tell you NEVER, EVER to come see me at work?" Yomi hissed. Then she regarded her friend. "And aren't you in France? And what's with the jumpsuit? You look like you're going skiing."

"You got an office!" Tomo said cheerfully, throwing herself nonchalantly into a chair. "Wow, that's great! I bet the office ladies are just seething with jealousy to see some girl just out of business school get an office."

"Yeah, Tomo, glad to see you too. Now can you tell me WHAT you are doing here? Quickly, because I want to kick you out as soon as I can."

"Don't you want to hear about France?"

"I KNOW about France. We talk every weekend, remember? And why didn't you say you were coming back? We could have met somewhere. Like my place. Or a restaurant. Somewhere that's NOT my office."

"It's important."

The financial analyst sat at her desk and put her head in her hands. Tomo always thought it was important. "What."

"You know I'm with Interpol, right?"

"You only remind me of that six or seven times every time we talk," Yomi said wearily.

"Well, they've got me doing this thing…"

"What thing?"

Tomo told her.

There was a long, astonished pause. Yomi's astonishment that the ICPO would trust Tomo with any assignment, much less this one, was overtaken by her astonishment that Tomo was asking her to help.

"I can't. Not only is it insane, but I've got a job. A good job. A REALLY good job." She gestured around the minuscule but tastefully decorated room. "They gave me an office. An office! I'm already an analyst and I have an office. I can't give that up."

"It won't take long," said Tomo. "Take vacation. Two weeks. That's all I ask."

"For a SPY MISSION?" Yomi said. She couldn't believe that Tomo was standing in her office and that she, Yomi, had just uttered the words "spy mission" in a somewhat serious manner. In connection with Tomo. This was just too weird, and Yomi knew from weird. "No, this has to be one of your practical jokes." What else could it be?

Tomo opened her briefcase – she was proud of her sleek black briefcase, suitable for an international woman of mystery – and pulled out a letter, which she placed on Yomi's desk. Yomi examined it. An official request for assistance from ICPO Assistant Director Liesl Bundig. The letterhead looked authentic. So did the signature.

So, for a moment, did Tomo. Yomi was taken aback. Was that a sane, serious expression on her friend's face?

"Yomi…" Tomo said hesitantly, not meeting her friend's eyes. "Okay, I'm glad to be in Interpol and all, but they think I'm something I'm not. They think I'm some sort of crimefighting wizard. The truth is, up till now, I've just done the stupid crap I always do, and I've been lucky. Really lucky. This time, I don't know if my luck can hold. Which is why I need you."

"To cover your behind?"

"To keep me from getting killed!" Tomo's emphatic tone and pleading eyes made Yomi do a double-take. "You've always stuck by me, even when I was at my stupidest. You've always been the one who makes sense, and you've always kept me from doing things that would really get me hurt. There are gonna be guns on this assignment, Yomi. Guns. I could get shot. The hostages could get shot. If you're there to keep me from making really stupid mistakes, I might just live through this thing. Maybe I could even get them out."

Yomi had seen Tomo be serious about three times since they met in grade school. This was the fourth.

"I know you're not a policewoman," Tomo continued. "But you don't need to be. I talked to Liesl about you. You just need to go to San Francisco with me, and be yourself. That's what we need you for. It's what I need you for."

Yomi thought about it, but not for long. She was sincerely moved.

"You're my best friend," she said quietly. "I can't have you go and die on me. Of course I'll do it. They'll let me off for two weeks, I haven't taken vacation in two years."

They hugged. Tomo gave Yomi a sincere smile. "Thanks. You have no idea how grateful I am. I'll see myself out – I've got to go talk to everyone else." She closed the door behind her.

And chuckled, evilly, as she got to the ground floor – and pressed every single elevator button on the way out. Hey, sincerity can only last so long.

"One down," she said to herself, striding down the busy Tokyo street to the train station. "Four to go."

Author's notes:

Thanks for so many reviews already! Don't worry, the plot'll flesh out soon – this is gonna be a long one, but I've already got chunks of it written.

FYI – I'll mention it in a bit, but this takes place six years after high school graduation.

Next installment: What are the other four girls up to these days? And can Tomo get them to join the cause? Of course she can.