A Terminal Agenda (The Severance Series, Book 1)

by Mark McKay

  Chapter 15

  The car with Mashida’s two men in it followed them out of Tokyo for an hour and then turned off somewhere. The tension Nick had felt on leaving Yamada’s estate was gone, but he wasn’t tired. Oyama sat behind him, clutching the two sheathed long swords across his lap like they were long lost children. Both he and Mashida had abandoned their normally serious faces and wore half-smiles. They were like two cats who’d waited a long time for the cream and were now savouring every last drop of it.

  He turned to Mashida. ‘What made you want to go after Yamada, tonight?’

  ‘It was a gamble, perhaps,’ the sensei replied. ‘We knew he probably had stolen paintings in his gallery. But if we had exposed him, he could have said he’d bought them in good faith. He could hardly say the same about the golden lions. Now I have some leverage.’

  True enough, Nick thought. Yamada had illegally obtained two items of Indian ‘national treasure’. If the Indian government were to be made aware of that fact, they would no doubt apply some serious political pressure to secure their return and to have him prosecuted.

  ‘Good thing we found them, then,’ said Nick.

  Mashida nodded. ‘I agree. What do you intend to do with the bank account details he gave you?’

  ‘Find out who the account holder is. I doubt it will lead straight to Le Roux, though. But if he makes a transfer from that account we might be able to find him through whoever receives that money.’

  Special Branch would have the necessary resources to monitor a suspicious person’s bank account. He’d share his information with Flynn and Halloran, as soon as he could.

  It was almost 3am when they arrived back at the retreat.

  ‘Get some sleep,’ said Oyama. ‘Training as usual, 8 o’clock.’

  Mariko looked at Nick’s bemused face and grinned. ‘Better when you’re a little tired,’ she said. ‘Then you don’t think too much.’

  He came into the lodge as quietly as he could, trying not to disturb Rory. He got into bed and closed his eyes, but the adrenaline was still flowing and he was too high to fall asleep. He wondered about Kate and how the evening might have panned out without the disturbance Mashida had created. He’d put her in an awkward position and just hoped it hadn’t damaged her relationship with Yamada. He should really contact her later and apologise. Perhaps they could concoct some story that would get her off the hook. He was still inventing and rejecting various scenarios when he fell asleep an hour later.

  He skipped breakfast, staggering out of bed with just enough time to get ready for the morning run. It was a gorgeous warm morning, with a slight pine-scented breeze. After a slow start he felt the exertion of running bringing his senses back to life and he was surprised to find he was enjoying it. His fitness had obviously improved in the week they’d been here. Given the lack of sleep and last night’s booze, he’d expected this to be more challenging. Then he noticed that the pace was slower than usual. He realised that the other students were also carrying a surfeit of alcohol after their Sunday lunch date and were suffering accordingly.

  The day’s training was more leisurely than usual, given the collective hangover. Oyama and Mashida were remarkably fresh exceptions it seemed, they demonstrated technique with their usual flair. This week there would be an emphasis on swordsmanship, including useful tips on how to take a sword away from an attacker when you were facing him unarmed. Done incorrectly, you were very likely to lose either a hand or a head, so in order to forestall such an outcome the swords were made of wood. They still hurt like hell if you were struck by one, however.

  After the day’s training had finished, Nick knew he’d have no problem sleeping that evening. He had a leisurely dinner and then around 8pm he called Yvonne, in London. It would be midday there and she should be at her desk. When she answered, he asked her to get either Flynn or Halloran to call him.

  ‘Preferably in the next three hours,’ he said. ‘I’ll be asleep after that.’

  ‘I thought you were on holiday,’ said Yvonne, a hint of admonition in her voice.

  ‘I am. That’s why I don’t have their number. Just something I want to share, that’s all.’

  ‘Yes, I’ll pass it on, then. There’s been no progress their end, not that I know about, anyhow.’

  He ended the call, wondering if he should call Kate while he waited, he still had her card. He decided to do it tomorrow, by then he would have thought of a convincing cover story about how they knew each other. In fact he could give it some thought now, while he waited for Special Branch to get back to him.

  It was Halloran who called. The blunt pragmatism he’d shown at their earlier meeting almost yielded to something resembling enthusiasm when Nick brought him up to date with events in Japan. He agreed with Nick about leaving the lions in situ for the moment and admitted that Special Branch were scratching for leads.

  ‘We’re still trying to find out which ship they left Chennai on. That’s the only lead we have. Now, let me have this account number.’

  ‘There is a condition attached,’ said Nick. ‘You upgrade me, from consultant to active investigator. I want to be in the loop on this, every step of the way. If you trace this account, or if a transfer is made in or out of it, I want to know.’

  Halloran’s tone hardened. ‘We could just charge you with withholding evidence in a terrorist investigation. How does that sound?’

  ‘Yes or no?’

  Silence. Then Halloran conceded. ‘Alright. Once we start monitoring the account, we’ll put you on the alert list. When we see something happen, you’ll see it too. Satisfied?’

  ‘Yes.’ He quoted the account details. Twice. ‘Got it?’

  ‘I think so. A word of advice, DCI Severance. Don’t start taking this investigation personally, you’ll make mistakes. The kind that are career limiting.’

  ‘Thanks for your concern. I’ll be back in London next week and I’ll call you for an update then. If anything happens in the meantime, you know where I am.’

  The rest of the week was devoted to Aikido, which was after all the whole point of coming here in the first place. The intensity and the pace picked up. He found he wasn’t thinking so much as simply responding to whatever attack was thrown at him. Everyone else was doing the same, which made the sessions fast and fluid. By Friday, he was even able to take the sword away from the attacker nine times out of ten. His martial arts skills had cranked up a notch.

  Oyama was away in Tokyo that day, arranging an export licence for the swords. He’d acquired a new lease of life and had announced that he intended to start making swords again, in England. Nick thought Mashida must have promised some financial help in making this happen and was delighted for Oyama. If what Kate had said about his reputation was true, buyers would queue up for the privilege of owning an Oyama sword. He just hoped Oyama would continue to teach Aikido, as well.

  He’d tried to contact Kate Suzuki two or three times, now. When he tried Sotheby’s he was told that she was working from home, and when he tried her mobile number he got voice mail. She obviously wasn’t speaking to him. Perhaps he would have a chance to call around on the Sunday when they went back to Tokyo, just prior to flying home. He didn’t like leaving without setting the record straight, as it were.

  A farewell meal had been planned for the Saturday evening, at the same restaurant. They were all seated much as before, with Nick once again between Mariko and Yoshi Mashida. Tomorrow’s flight was an evening one and there was no training to think about, so they could all happily indulge themselves with too much food and drink. After a few beers, Nick abandoned his respect for Japanese privacy and asked Mashida the question he’d been pondering since they first met.

  ‘Sensei, you never told me what it is you actually do, when you’re not teaching Aikido.’

  Mashida smiled. ‘I’m a private investigator, a bit like you.’ The drink had made him jovial, but the cool and calculating eyes were as clear as ever. ‘I suppose you
could say I help people solve problems.’

  Nick looked at the inscrutable Japanese face next to him. ‘Is there any point in asking you to elaborate?’

  ‘Not right now,’ said Mashida. He seemed to consider something for a moment. ‘You have been a great help to both Katsu and myself. You gave us an opportunity to put Yamada into a position he would rather not be in. Let me just say, should you need any assistance with anything in the future, I will be pleased to help out.’

  ‘What sort of thing?’

  ‘You’ll know when it happens. If for instance your bank account number leads you nowhere, I may be able to make enquiries on your behalf.’

  ‘I see. Thank you, I’ll remember.’ Mashida was certainly enigmatic and obviously wanted to stay that way for the moment. He had access to resources at short notice though, the two armed and capable-looking men he’d brought along to Yamada’s party were testament to that. Perhaps when they got back to London he might get more information on Yoshi Mashida from Oyama. It could wait until then. The restaurant proprietor appeared and whispered something to Mashida.

  ‘Excuse me,’ he said. ‘Phone call.’

  ‘I hope you enjoyed yourself here,’ said Mariko, as they watched her father walk away. She’d been quiet so far this evening and had resisted various efforts to refill her beer glass. She seemed preoccupied.

  ‘Yes, it was quite an experience. I hope we poor students from England didn’t disappoint you.’

  ‘Not at all,’ she replied, with the shadow of a smile. ‘In fact, my father thinks you, personally, have some potential. If you keep working at it of course.’

  That was a surprise. ‘I’ll bear that in mind.’

  ‘Don’t tell him I mentioned it, please.’

  ‘I won’t.’

  Mashida was on his way back now and his face wasn’t a pleasant sight. Nick felt a stab of alarm. Mashida exchanged a look with Oyama and then stopped by Nick’s chair.

  ‘Come outside for a moment,’ he said.

  Nick did as he was asked. The restaurant was down one end of the main street. It was dark and quiet out here and the area was deserted.

  ‘Were you able to speak to your woman friend from Sotheby’s?’ asked Mashida.

  ‘No, I tried her a few times. They said she was working from home, but she didn’t answer her mobile phone.’

  Mashida looked grim. ‘I just spoke to someone in Tokyo. Your friend Kate Suzuki was found dead, an hour ago.’

  ‘Found dead?’ He was dumbfounded. ‘What happened?’

  ‘It seems someone held her in the house for a day or two. Tied her up, tortured her, and then finally killed her by cutting off her head.’

  Nick was speechless. He tried to speak, but nothing came out.

  ‘It’s not hard to imagine who might be responsible,’ Mashida continued. ‘This man has a long reach, Nick. Even as far as London, so take precautions when you get back.’

  Nick nodded, still lost for words. This was his fault, he knew it. Mashida read his mind.

  ‘Don’t blame yourself. If anything, the blame lies with me. I should have predicted this kind of action.’

  A car was approaching. The lights flashed and Mashida raised his hand. It stopped next to him. Inside, Nick could see the two men who’d been with them at Yamada’s, and two new faces.

  ‘Tonight, these men will station themselves outside each lodge and my house,’ said Mashida. ‘Then on Sunday, you will all go to the airport and fly home.’

  ‘OK.’ He was beginning to feel nauseous. His clever idea to use Kate as a way in to Yamada’s estate had got her killed. No matter what Mashida said, he knew that the responsibility for her death lay with him. He felt a rush of anger and remembered Halloran’s words of advice, exhorting him not to take the case personally. It was too late for that, the news Mashida had just delivered made it very personal. Kate was dead on his watch and he was obliged now to do something about it. He would make damn sure he honoured that obligation.

  There was some consternation among the other students when they found out they had babysitters for the night.

  ‘What have we done to deserve this?’ asked Rory, when they got back to the lodge. Their bodyguard had found himself a chair and positioned it just inside the front door. He’d brought some magazines, which he placed on a small table next to the chair. He took out a handgun from his shoulder holster and put it on the table, within easy reach. The final touch was a reading lamp, which meant the hall light could be left off while he maintained his vigil.

  ‘Can’t really explain,’ said Nick. ‘Mashida just wants to make sure the place is secure tonight, that’s all I know.’

  Rory wasn’t buying it, but he kept quiet. They’d all seen the look on Nick’s face when he and Mashida re-joined them in the restaurant, earlier. Nick had been somewhat withdrawn for the rest of the evening, as had Mashida. It was clear something unpleasant had happened.

  ‘Fine,’ said Rory. ‘I’m off to bed.’

  Nick nodded to the man on the door. He hadn’t spoken a word since arriving. He was either the strong and silent type or he spoke no English. He was casually dressed in loose fitting black trousers and a black t-shirt, with a matching cotton jacket. All designed for concealment and maximum ease of movement, Nick supposed. Somewhere in his thirties, he was thickly built and radiated a quiet confidence. He nodded back politely, but the face remained impassive.

  Nick walked down the hall and went into his room. He lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling, thinking about Kate. Images of Yamada’s party swam through his mind, and he recalled the scent of her perfume. She had stood right next to him on the terrace, warm and alive and completely unaware of the danger she would soon be in. After a while her image began to blur and shift and then faded into nothingness as his mind drifted away, sinking into the guiltless solitude of sleep.

  He had a last audience with Mashida before leaving for the airport. They sat with Mariko around the low table in the living room. Mariko carefully poured the tea and then offered it to each man in turn, both hands outstretched. It was only after they had all taken a first sip that the ritual silence could be broken.

  ‘Can you be sure the golden lions won’t go anywhere?’ asked Nick.

  ‘The estate is being watched,’ said Mashida. ‘Yamada may try to get them away from the house. If they are found somewhere else, that will be less incriminating. But whatever happens, we will keep track of them.’

  ‘Thank you. If you need to get in touch with me, here’s my card.’

  Mashida took it. ‘Do you have another?’ Nick found a second card, which Mashida passed to Mariko.

  ‘My daughter wants to visit London. I’m sure she will call you when she does.’

  Mariko bowed slightly, smiling. ‘Perhaps your wife will show me around.’

  Nick laughed. ‘She’s not my wife - yet. But yes, let me know in advance. You can stay with us.’

  The talk turned to Aikido, with Mashida emphasising some of the points he wanted Nick and the rest of the British contingent to keep in mind on their return to London. From his perspective, the retreat had gone well. Then he said something puzzling.

  ‘Tell Katsu from me, that he should teach you the ki exercises when you get back.’ Ki was the Japanese word for internal, or spiritual, energy.

  ‘What do you mean? Doesn’t everything we do in Aikido use ki?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ said Mashida. ‘This uses the same energy, just in a different way. Katsu will explain’. He seemed reluctant to say more on the subject.

  ‘Alright, I will.’

  Half an hour later, the taxis arrived. Nick said his farewells and joined Oyama and the rest of his team. Mashida and Mariko lined up with the four Japanese students to wave them off. The four bodyguards were nowhere to be seen.

  ‘Like bloody ghosts,’ said Rory. ‘Bet they’re still around here somewhere.’

  They were, at least two of them were. When the taxis pulled ou
t on to the main road, they were followed to the station. The two men stayed with them, albeit at a discreet distance, until they went through to boarding at Narita airport. Everyone else in Nick’s party seemed blissfully unaware of them, which he found a little unsettling. They’d gone now. Perhaps they were nothing but bloody ghosts, after all.