“Hey, you picked it.”
She shrugged. “Our options were limited. At least here, we could check in by computer. No one to see our faces if the police or Tokyo Black come looking for us.”
Caine gazed at her, drinking in the details. Smooth skin. Dark, lustrous hair. Her body promised warmth if one could just get past the darkness that lay behind her icy, calculating stare. She was beautiful, and it had been a long time since he had allowed himself to appreciate a woman’s beauty.
But Caine knew attraction could be a dangerous weapon. It could make him lower his guard, ignore risks, or fail to notice obvious signs of danger. He reminded himself to stay sharp.
The mission, whatever it was, was not over. Bernatto, Kusaka, Bobu ... it seemed he added a new name to his list of enemies every day. He wondered if Mariko was an ally, or if her name would soon be counted among those who wanted him dead.
Mariko stared at him for a second, then walked over, and sat down on the bed next to him. He found his eyes drawn to the curve of her ear, framed by the sweeping black line of her hair.
“You’re wondering if you can trust me,” she said.
Caine looked her square in the eye, searching for truth in the dark sea of brown and black. “Mariko, we barely know each other. And back at the bar, you came at the girl pretty hard. I get the feeling you’re not telling me something.”
For the first time, her cold, black stare began to thaw.
“I ... yes, there is more. For you as well. This man, Bobu ... you have a past with him?”
Caine nodded. “You could say that. A few years ago, the Shimizu and Yoshizawa clans got into a pissing match over territory. You know, typical yakuza stuff. Old school. Bobu was sent to take out Isato Yoshizawa. Send a message. A young boy, Isato’s son, got in the way. I was there, and I ... I couldn’t just let it happen. I blocked Bobu’s shot. I took the bullet. Isato and the boy lived. Bobu was caught by the police, went to jail. The Shimizu clan fell into decline.”
Mariko’s eyes narrowed. “What on earth were you even doing there?”
“It’s a long story, and I can’t really talk about it.”
She stared at him for a second. Then she nodded and looked away.
“What I told you before, about my mother ... her death left a hole in my family. My father was never the same after she was gone. He became distant, turned to drink. The doctors said it was the alcohol that killed him. But the look on his face ... it was grief that consumed him. I could see it plain as day.”
Caine put a hand on Mariko’s shoulder. A tremor ran through her body. “My younger sister, Emiko ... I wasn’t there for her. She wasn’t like me. She was gentle, fragile even. She couldn’t face the pain alone. She went down a path ... I did not approve of. Drugs, boyfriends. Toraburu ... trouble. We fought. I said things that were unkind. We did not speak again for several years.
“A few weeks ago, she left me a message. She said she needed to talk. I was busy pursuing this case. I was determined to expose Kusaka’s links to Tokyo Black. It was all I could think about; it was an obsession. If I could cut off their funding, I could cripple them once and for all. I could....” Mariko’s voice trailed off. She looked up at Caine. Her voice wavered. “I never called her back.”
“What happened?” Caine asked, his voice low.
“Several days later, park rangers found a girl in Aokigahara Forest. She was dead. Massive drug overdose. Aokigahara is a beautiful place. The Sea of Trees. People go there to end their lives. It is known as the Suicide Forest.”
“I’ve heard of it.”
Mariko’s almond-shaped eyes glinted with held-back tears. “The girl they found ... it was Emiko. My little sister. A death in that forest, it is no accident. You understand?”
Caine nodded.
“She went there to end her pain. In my country, it is not always an easy thing to ask for help. Emiko tried to reach out to me. I didn’t call her back. I wasn’t there for her. I couldn’t....”
“I’m sorry,” Caine said. “You can’t blame yourself.” He knew the words would not help, but what else was there to say?
Mariko shook her head. “As a young girl, I cheated death. Now, it is seeking me once again. A man ... a sick, disturbed man kills my mother and hundreds of others. He dies in prison. But he was like a black stone tossed into a quiet pond. The ripples of his actions spread and tore my family apart.
“Now, years later, Bobu, his apprentice, returns to seed more hate and destruction. It is a circle of death. As if his spirit is reaching out for me from the grave.”
Caine gripped her shoulder. She looked up, her eyes moist and wide. “No, Mariko, these are just men, not spirits. I’ve known men like this all my life. Fought them. Killed them. Even worked with them, when I had to.”
Mariko nodded. “I know they are just men. I know. That is why I kept investigating Kusaka, even after I was suspended. He is the head of this thing. His money is this thing’s lifeblood. It is keeping Tokyo Black alive.”
Her eyes hardened, and she stood up, shrugging away Caine’s hand. She shivered and crossed her arms. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I will stop them. Kusaka, Bobu Shimizu. I’ll go to hell itself and stab this cult’s founder in his black heart if I must. But I will end Tokyo Black. For my family. And for Japan. That is my duty.”
A small, quiet voice spoke out. “I am sorry about your sister.”
Caine and Mariko turned to find Hitomi staring at them. She was wrapped in a white terry bathrobe provided by the hotel. Her silvery hair was wet and glistened in the light. Standing in the dim room, soaking wet, her makeup washed away, she looked young, frail, and ethereal.
Mariko’s voice was calm but firm. “Hitomi, I’m the one who should apologize. When I saw you tonight, you reminded me of Emiko, in a way. I was not there for her. That is my shame. I’m sorry I took it out on you.”
Hitomi looked down. “You fight for her now. She is lucky to have a sister like you.”
“Why is Kusaka so determined to find you?” Caine asked. “What do you have that he wants?”
Hitomi sighed and sat down on the bed. “At first, I thought he just wanted me back. As I said, he does not see me as a daughter. I am his property.”
Mariko walked over to Hitomi and began to stroke her hair with a towel. “What do you mean?”
“I was born in China. My mother was ... my father, Kusaka-san, paid her. For her body. For pleasure. He visited her many times on his business trips to Beijing and Shanghai. I grew up hearing that my father was a rich, powerful man, a king in Japan.
“When my mother died, I used every penny she had saved to come here. I did not have a passport. I was nothing in China ... a ghost. I paid men to smuggle me here. I owed them money so I worked in their clubs and bordellos. I pleasured men as my mother had. And then I found Kusaka-san. My father. I went to him, hoping that he would save me from the monsters who had brought me here.”
“Hitomi, I’m so sorry,” Caine said. Living in Thailand, he had heard many stories of girls looking for a way out, smuggled around the world, hoping for a better life. He had even come up against traffickers himself. He knew such stories rarely had happy endings.
“My father was the biggest monster of all. He bought my contract out from the Chinese gangs. I thought my dreams had come true. But I did not go to live with him in his mansion. Instead, he sold me to the Shimizu family. They put me to work in their clubs. And my father, he....” Her voice trailed off.
Mariko looked over at Caine and slowly shook her head. Caine’s entire body simmered with anger, but he said nothing.
“He does not see me as his daughter,” Hitomi said. “He says I remind him of my mother. That is how he sees me. Sometimes, I would be delivered to his house for a night. Once, I saw him hiding papers and computer equipment in his safe. He took pictures of me, sometimes. I knew the pictures were in the safe. I just couldn’t stand it, knowing that they were there.
“One night, he got very drunk after ... after he
was finished with me. He forgot to lock the safe. I took what was inside and left. I thought I could blackmail him. That he would be ashamed of his actions, and he would pay me enough money that I could go home.”
“It wasn’t the pictures, was it? On the drive?” Caine asked.
Hitomi shook her head. “I don’t know. I tried to hook it up to a computer at an internet cafe, but it wouldn’t work. It is in code or something. I couldn’t access it. And now, these men. I have seen them before ... the one with the burned face?”
“Bobu,” Caine hissed.
Hitomi nodded. “My father sent me to him once.” She shuddered. “He is just as big a monster as my father. He believes what he is doing will restore Japan, somehow. Make the country powerful again. He’s crazy. And my father has sent him to find me.
“He has been chasing me all this time, killing all those people....” She began to sob gently. Her body shook, softly at first, then harder. Mariko grimaced, then held her in an embrace.
“I needed money, quickly. I worked in the soaplands, hostess clubs, anywhere I could. There was a bosozuku boy who had a thing for me. His name was Sonny. He introduced me to Mr. Naka. The yonigeya was going to help me leave the country once I had saved up enough to pay him.”
She gripped the sheet next to her in her slender fingers. “Now Naka-san is dead,” Hitomi said through her tears. “I have no more money, no passport. There’s nowhere left to run. Bobu will find me.”
“We’re not running,” Caine snarled. “We have something these men want. That means we have leverage.”
Hitomi shook her head. Her eyes were wide with fear. “Leverage? Are you crazy? Does the rat have leverage over the tiger just because the tiger wants his meat?”
Caine stood up. “Sometimes it’s not about who has the biggest teeth, Hitomi. It’s about who goes for the throat first.”
“Where is the drive now?” Mariko asked.
Hitomi wiped the tears from her face. “It’s at the Hotel Riverside, in Asakusa. It’s a capsule hotel. I left the drive in a locker there.”
“Then that’s where we’re going,” Caine said. “Hitomi, you’d better get dressed.”
The girl nodded and padded back to the bathroom. When the door clicked shut, Mariko turned to Caine.
“What are you going to do?” she asked.
“I was just hired to find her. I never got any instructions beyond that.”
“And now?”
“I have no idea. But judging by the people who are after it, whatever is on that hard drive must be dangerous. I’d feel better if it was in our hands.”
“I’d feel better if it was in my hands,” Mariko said. “I’m still not sure what your involvement is here.”
Caine nodded. “Yeah, I’ll let you know when I figure that out myself.” He pulled out his cell phone and dialed another number.
“What are you doing?” Mariko asked.
“Calling for backup.” He turned away from her as a voice on the other end of the line picked up. “It’s me. I need to speak with Yoshizawa-san. Tell him I need a favor.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Kenji Yoshizawa whistled a catchy K-pop tune as he walked through the Roppongi warehouse. He felt a strange current in the air, a nervous energy. The yakuza thugs scattered around the large room puffed away on their cigarettes and spoke in hushed and hurried tones. They watched him pass with hard, silent stares, then returned to their conversations. His father’s men were on edge. Something was happening.
He shook his head as he watched the old man in the blue windbreaker shake food into the plastic pools covering the floor. The koi farm was one of many investments he’d advised his father to dump. As usual, Yoshizawa-san refused to listen to him. Kenji could show him charts and graphs all day. He could show the business’s lack of profits, the rising cost of supplies and real estate, and a million other statistics. If his father wanted a business location to conduct his yakuza meetings, why not at least make it a successful business?
But his father would ignore the charts, the graphs, and Kenji’s statistics. Instead, he would rattle on about old stories or superstitions. Like the legend of the koi who, after a hundred years, managed to swim up a waterfall and through the dragon gate, despite mocking demons impeding its progress. The ancient gods were so impressed, they transformed the koi into a powerful dragon with gleaming gold scales.
Kenji knew there were no gods handing out dragonhood, in Japan or anywhere else. Those who craved power were not rewarded for hard work or perseverance or swimming up waterfalls. Power belonged to those who were smart, strong, and ruthless enough to take what they wanted, no matter the risks.
Tonight, he promised himself, he would take what he wanted. No charts, no graphs ... things would be different this time. Tonight his father would listen to reason. He would make him listen. The family’s future was at stake. And this time, it would take more than handguns and cheap suits to secure their future.
Kenji approached the old man who sang to his fish in a quiet, gentle voice. He vaguely remembered coming to the warehouse as a child and seeing the same old man, singing the same old song, as he sprinkled food into the water. He realized he had no idea what the man’s name was.
“Hey, does that song really work?” Kenji asked. “Does it make the fish grow bigger?”
The old man gave him a thin smile. “Oh, I don’t know,” he croaked. “Who can say? They’re just fish, after all.”
Kenji laughed. “Then why do you sing to them? Do they like it?”
The old man shrugged. “I like it. And they don’t seem to mind. You see that one there, the blue one?” The man pointed to a stunning blue-and-white koi who was swimming in tight circles, away from the other fish. Its scales looked like trails of sapphires and diamonds sparking in the water.
“What’s so special about that one?”
The old man smiled again. “The colors ... the blue and white. He is you, the son. The red koi are the mothers. And the black ones are the fathers. Blue koi represent the role of sons.”
“Why is he swimming all alone?”
Frowning, he leaned in closer. “That’s a good question, young man. Perhaps his parents were removed from this pool. Maybe they were sold.”
Kenji smiled. “Well, at least this place makes some money then. Later, old man.”
As he strutted away from the pool, the old man watched him go, then looked back at the blue koi. The fish continued lapping its small section of water. The man frowned again, shook his head, and resumed his singing.
Kenji made his way to the dark back room. The two beefy men guarding his father’s office nodded and moved aside to let him pass. The heavy metal door clanked and clattered as it rolled up into the ceiling. Kenji nodded to the men and continued into the dark corridor that lay beyond. He heard the door lower behind him, hitting the concrete floor with a clang that echoed through the air.
Up ahead, a single dim light gleamed through an open doorway. He could hear his father’s short, muted sentences. He rounded the corner and entered the dim office. Isato sat behind his desk in the far corner of the room. He was on the phone, his mouth set in its usual impatient scowl.
Kenji grabbed a chair from the center of the room. It was the same chair Waters had been sitting in only a few days earlier ... the beginning of the recent insanity. He dragged it in front of Isato’s desk and waited for his father to finish his conversation. The single light swayed overhead.
“Hai. Yes, I understand. Very well. I will welcome having you in my debt for a change. When this is over, you and I will have a long discussion about your involvement with this family.” He slammed the phone down and looked up at Kenji over the rim of his glasses.
“Kenji, welcome. I didn’t realize we were meeting this evening. It’s a bit late to go over finances, isn’t it?”
Kenji leaned forward in his chair. “That was Waters-san, wasn’t it?”
Isato took off his glasses and began to clean them with a cloth
he pulled from his suit pocket. “Yes, although Koichi tells me that’s not his real name. I assumed as much.”
“His name is Thomas Caine, Dad. Did you know he was working for the American CIA the last time he was here?”
Isato slipped his glasses back on. “And how would you know that?”
“You may not realize it, but I do my part to take care of this family as well. I’m not just an accountant.”
Isato dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “Bah, I keep telling you, leave the yakuza stuff to Koichi and the others. You’re more useful to me in the boardroom than the streets.”
“Where is Caine now?” Kenji asked.
“That’s not your concern,” Isato said. “Now, do you want to go over numbers or not?”
“Come on, I owe the guy. I just want to make sure he’s okay.”
Isato looked at him long and hard. His beady black eyes seemed to look through Kenji’s face, into the dark space behind him. For the first time in his life, Kenji got a sense of how his father’s enemies and underlings might feel, faced with that penetrating stare.
“Kenji,” Isato said, “you don’t get to be my age in this business without learning how to spot a lie. Now what is this all about?”
Kenji sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Jeez, Dad, it would just be nice if, for once, you could at least act like you trust me. I was helping him earlier tonight. Koichi and I took him to see Mr. Naka. Or at least what was left of him.”
Isato slammed his fist down on his desk and cursed in Japanese. “Dammit, Kenji! I told you to stay away from him! Koichi knew about this?”
“Take it easy, man. You’ll give yourself an aneurysm. I just gave him a ride; that’s all. You may be the oyabun, but I’m the oyabun’s son .... Koichi has to respect me, too, right?”
“Kenji, it’s not about respect. I want to keep you away from all of this. You spend your days in meetings and office buildings and coffee shops. You have fancy cars, expensive clothes, beautiful girls. Why on earth do you want to waste your time in a barren, boring, dark, cold warehouse like this? This isn’t your world. You don’t belong here.”
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