On Day One, the GPS signal from Don's cell phone had led the team to the Kobe Club, a karaoke bar in Little Tokyo. Yakuza territory, Megan knew, and her sense of dread deepened. These were not amateurs they were dealing with; this was the Japanese mafia. Upon entering the bar, they immediately found what Megan recognized as Don's black jacket, the one he had been wearing when he'd entered that alley, hanging among the coats on the rack lining the wall. Without producing badges or weapons, she and David entered, lifted the jacket without fuss or preamble, and left the building. Colby, waiting just inside the door, took note as the bartender watched Megan and David and picked up a phone as the agents left. Granger then called in a surveillance team to watch the bar.
With gloved hands, Megan searched the jacket for clues before bagging it as evidence. She found nothing but Don's cell phone and a Polaroid that made her blood run cold: Don, gagged and shirtless, hands and bare feet bound, hanging from a hook in what appeared to be a meat locker. His abdomen was a deep mottled red-purple, blood trailed from under the gag, and his head hung limply, his chin resting on his chest.
"Charlie does not see this picture," Megan said, struggling to contain her fear, anger, and sorrow. "We give him the information, but he does not see this picture. Got that?"
David and Colby nodded their grim agreement. Colby bent down and picked up a chunk of asphalt, heaving it with all his strength at a metal dumpster. The resounding clang failed to match the venom in his expletive.