“Feisty, isn’t he?” Jerrell asked leaning around Shiro to look at Kono.
“Well, it wouldn’t have been the same if the boys had been in on the know. Sorry.” Kono studied Shiro’s face. “You okay?”
“Yeah. I’m okay.”
“How’s your chest?”
“It hurts.”
Kono’s cheek muscles clenched. “He was tortured back in Japan. Remember?”
“Of course I remember.”
Kono undid the fastenings on Shiro’s bulletproof vest.
He slipped his hand under the folds of Shiro’s T-shirt and glanced at Jerrell.
“No bleeding, thank God.”
He glanced from Jerrell back to Shiro, his tone soothing.
“The Chief thought this operation was too valuable to be blown by a security leak so only one of the guys was let in on the truth. He was the one who stopped the beating. It was vitally important that everyone who saw what was transpiring before their eyes believed it was real. When you were put in the van just now, hundreds of photos were taken of your face and they’ll get back to Japan where they need to be believed.”
“Okay, I can understand that,” Shiro replied, a grudging tone to his voice. Then, “Well, I’m glad you’re happy with the plan because it wasn’t you getting your ass kicked, literally!”
Before Kono could respond, the van slowed down and turned into a garage and came to a stop. They heard giant doors being closed, then the back door opened. As the three men looked out, they saw two members of the anti-terrorist task force SWAT team standing a couple of feet from the back door.
They got out and Shiro’s chains and cuffs were taken off him. They led Shiro to a chair with bright lights over it where a man stood with a medical bag, waiting. Shiro resisted, looking imploringly at Kono. He was petrified that something very bad was about to happen to him.
Jerrell spoke up.
“It’s okay Shiro, I promised you that a doctor would look you over and he’s a doctor. Please…”
Shiro sat down, shaking, until it was apparent from the man’s actions that he was a doctor. He first checked over all of the recent bruises and contusions, then looked at Shiro’s chest.
“This is terrible, Lieutenant. Whoever did this should be behind bars,” the doctor stated.
“Or far worse,” Kono added. His hand went to Shiro’s shoulder, having a visibly calming effect on the young Hawaiian.
After the doctor gave Shiro two injections, one for tetanus, and the second shot being B-twelve, he gave him a couple of small local injections in the chest area and sutured the worst of the puncture marks. He okayed Shiro for further travel.
“Take these antibiotics. And don’t stop taking them even if you feel better.”
The doctor and Jerrell got into the van and left the scene to be dropped back in the city. Shiro and Kono walked to their new wheels, a Ford Tempo.
Kono checked the trunk. Plenty of clothes, emergency food and medical supplies and a brand new cell phone for each of them.
“What happened to my other one?” Shiro was dispirited. “What if my grandma tries to call me? What about my mom back in Tokyo?”
“Calm down, Shiro. All the numbers have been programmed into this phone,” Kono said. “We have to discuss what you’re going to say when you call Nobuo. By now, he has to know I’ve been killed.”
He slammed the trunk closed.
“So where are we going?”
“A little farther out on Long Island.”
They got into the car and Kono floored the gas.
“My arm’s a little sore,” Shiro complained as Kono took a sharp turn.
“Well, that’s an improvement. A little while ago, you said your entire body was sore, right?” Kono asked with a little laugh.
“Very funny. I mean the shots made my arm sore. That B-twelve shot hurt like hell.”
“It was for your own good. Now we have to lie low and check in once in a while with my boss.”
“I need to call my grandma.” Shiro’s glance was fearful. “Can I call her?”
Kono thought about it. “Well, we’ll see. You’re supposed to be in custody, remember?”
“Yes, but I’m allowed a phone call and my new cell phone’s untraceable. Right?”
“Right. We’ll work out exactly what you should say to her, too.”
Kono leant back, eyes on the road.
“You look damned good for a dead guy.”
Kono grinned.
“I feel pretty damned good. Let’s get checked into the hotel and relax. It’s been a stressful twenty-four hours.”
“You’re telling me! Oh, and remember, no dumps for a hotel. You said Sheraton!”
Kono smiled. “Yes, I promise, no dumps. But it’s no Sheraton, either. It’s a very nice vacation rental in Centerport Harbor, near the town of Sunken Meadow. It’s a really nice room with ocean views, a balcony where we can watch the boats sail by.”
“And you’re sure it’s nice?”
“Fantastic.”
“How did you find this place?”
“My boss has a time share there. He organised for some food to be delivered. Of course, we can do some shopping in a couple of days once the dust settles.”
“Okay.” Shiro grinned. “I’ll wait to kick up a stink once I get a look at the place. The last one was flea-infested.”
“We’ll have a nice dinner tonight. Will that make you happy?”
“After what your cops did to me since I ‘murdered’ you, about the only thing that would make me happy would be for you to fuck me!”
Kono’s head snapped around to see if Shiro was laughing, and when he found that he wasn’t, he returned his attention to the road and said nothing. But he began to muse about what it would be like to fuck this cute, little would-be assassin, long, hard and deep. Kono’s dick seemed to come to life thinking about sex with Shiro. He chastised himself silently for his physical reaction. This man was under his protection and it was an old police adage that you never mixed pleasure with business. Of course, that was one of those adages, which practically no cop ever followed. The two major things that a cop took seriously, outside of his job, were his food, and his piece of ass. Sometimes, they were the only comforts some cops had and they were important to him.
* * * *
Alia stared at the TV. The whole world was going crazy. Absolutely crazy. First these men show up, then her beloved Shiro kills a cop.
Somehow, none of it seemed real. She sighed and stood, every bone in her body aching. It had been damned hard work putting those two men in their rental car. She knew it was their car since it hadn’t moved for two days and it sat outside her house. She’d found the key in Nobuo-san’s pocket and had driven the car into her garage and slowly dragged each body into it. Boy those fellows weighed a ton. She wanted a bath and a hot cup of tea.
She’d cleaned up the house, pleased that she’d cleaned up all traces of blood. Her house was just like new.
Popping off the front and rear license plates on the rental, and left them on the front seat. She picked up her purse, patted her hair, straightened her shirt collar and got into the driver’s seat. She hadn’t had a license in ten years but it was just like riding a bicycle, everyone said so. She angled out of her driveway, smacking into a rosemary bush.
Oops.
She reversed into her street, put the car into drive and headed north. Yep, she knew it was like riding a bicycle. Shame she had to get rid of the car. She liked driving. A lot. She put on the radio and Brother Iz sang Somewhere Over the Rainbow. Very fitting since the dead guys stinking up the car would soon be crossing the eternal rainbow.
The temperature dropped and she felt mist closing in on the car as she found the turn for the Old Pali Road. Rain came, a very good sign that the gods and goddesses of the islands were with her.
She reached the fork and hesitated. Did she turn right or keep going straight? She stayed at the stop sign, biting her thumbnail. The man in the car behi
nd her honked, frightening her half to death. After the evening she’d had!
He swerved around her and went straight. Thank you, Pele. A man like that wouldn’t be taking the Old Pali Road.
She kept driving in her slow, leisurely way until the rain stopped. To her, it was the sign. She pulled over, wound down the window and said to the man in the passenger seat beside her, “Sorry.”
Alia got out of the car, left the engine running and tossed the license plates over the cliff. She stood outside the vehicle, her purse over her arm and dragged the garbage bag with the cleaning rags and the remnants of the poisoned meal and turfed them all over the cliff’s edge.
Making sure nobody drove by her, she turned the steering wheel to the right. The car seemed to groan as Keizo’s head hit the windshield. The car lurched forward, away from the soft shoulder. It tipped and teetered and finally fell with a sickening thud all the way to the bottom of the cliff, submerged by native ferns. With one more look in either direction, she took out a small hand broom and swept lightly over the tire tracks left in the sandy shoulder. She blew the sand off the broom’s bristles, putting it back in her purse.
It had all gone well. Now, it was time to go home. She wished she didn’t have to walk, but maybe when she reached the fork again, somebody would take pity on her and give an old lady a ride.
She wasn’t wrong. An old pickup stopped, the driver reaching across to roll down the passenger window.
“What are you doing up here?” he asked her, looking spooked. His eyes popped. “You…you’re not…Pele, are you?”
“What if I am? Don’t you know you’re supposed to give an old lady a ride?” she retorted.
“I don’t know, but I’m not taking any chances. Get in.”
She smiled. They always wondered if an old lady on a mountain road was Pele. It was bad luck to deny her a ride. She was very tired. Very, very tired. She gave the man directions and he dropped her one street over from her house.
“Thank you,” she said, and hopped out of the truck.
He shrugged. “Maybe my luck will change.”
A raindrop plopped from the sky onto her nose. “You have bad luck?”
“The worst. My truck will get repossessed tomorrow. I thought I would take her for one last ride.”
“You behind very much?”
“What do you care?” When she didn’t respond, he said, “two months.”
“Huh.” She felt a measure of pride that she had finally taken the huge amount of cash Nobuo-san had in his wallet. She’d resisted the devil’s cash, not that she didn’t need it. She opened her purse and took out the thick wad.
The truck driver’s mouth hung open. “You can’t give me this.”
“Yes, I can.”
“I was going to drive myself off the Pali today. Me and my truck.”
“I’m glad you didn’t.”
The man’s eyes filled with tears. “I don’t know what stopped me. Yeah, I do know. I heard Iz on the radio. You know…when life is hard we forget to believe in rainbows.”
“Yeah.” She patted his arm.
“Thank you,” he said. “God bless you, Madame Pele.”
He waved to her and she waved back. God helped those who helped themselves and Goddess Pele took care of her own.
For one brief moment, she wondered if she should have called the police after all, but she felt her grandson was in enough trouble as it was. Nobody would miss two damned yakuza. And look how she got to help a good man in his own kind of trouble.
Her thoughts turned to Shiro. She hoped he would soon call. Now she really needed that bath…
* * * *
Kono checked the directions Jerrell had given him. As they arrived at the quiet beach lining Long Island Sound, it seemed already to Kono that it worked its charm on his squirrely companion. Shiro was an amazing guy, and they both needed this.
“There really are boats in the harbour,” Shiro said. “Man, I’m an island guy and I feel like I can breathe at last. This place is something else.”
He jumped out of the car before Kono could even stop.
“Wait!” Kono called out.
But Shiro was already walking across the grass to the two-centuries-old building that housed several units split off into time-share rentals.
Kono found the lockbox Jerrell had said was rusted shut from the ocean air. He tried a few times to wrestle the numbers into submission and almost gave up when the lock popped open.
Shiro grabbed his hand with childlike glee. “Come on!”
They found their own entrance up a set of stone stairs. It was a long, narrow apartment with a definite holiday feel. They entered a very large room with two queen beds, a desk, chair, television and a love seat by the windows. They checked out the bathroom, which was all marble and roomy, and had a jetted tub. The whole place ended at the oceanfront.
“Holy shit,” Shiro said, opening the glass doors and moving to the fridge.
Somebody had been in here. Jerrell said he’d asked the guy who was the caretaker to the property to stock the fridge.
“The guy thinks I’m coming there and at some point I will, just to check on you two, but please keep a low profile,” Jerrell had said.
Kono and Shiro checked the contents of the fridge. Plenty of food.
“There’s a hibachi on the patio. I’m famous for my barbecue,” Shiro said. He seemed relaxed for the first time since Kono had met him.
“I’ll get the stuff from the car.”
He went outside, wedged the Tempo into the correct spot and as he emptied the trunk, his cell phone rang.
“Hey, Chief.”
“Any problems?”
“None.”
“Your funeral is the day after tomorrow.”
“Oh.” That feels weird. “How nice.”
Jerrell chuckled. “So keep your head down.”
“I will.” In that cute Hawaiian ass upstairs.
“It’s been tough keeping Shiro’s location a secret. After getting knocked around by our guys, plenty of others want a piece of his ass. ”
I want a piece of it, too.
“Keep him hidden. We’ve kept his prison transfer a secret. We don’t want any hassles until we can get you into court to deliver your testimony.”
“He wants to call his grandma.”
Kono grabbed some stuff from the truck and hauled it up the stairs.
“He can call her. He can say he’s in protective custody. He needs to keep it brief and not give her any reason to worry. In a few days, we’ll get you out to the house we discussed in Mastic.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Kono dumped everything in the hallway and kicked shut the front door.
“No problem.”
Shiro came into room and Kono ended the call.
“We’re staying here for a few days and then we’re going to a house in Mastic, which is farther out on the Island. We’ll stay there until the trial.”
“What is this house?” Shiro asked.
“It belongs to a friend of mine.”
“Can you trust this friend not to betray us?”
“He’s a former lover, so yeah, we can trust him.”
“Okay, if you say so. Listen, I need to call my grandma again, okay? I don’t like how the last call went. I sensed something wasn’t right and that she was being forced to ask me questions.”
“Sure, but tell her you’re in isolation somewhere and the guards let you make one phone call to anywhere you wanted for the right price. They can’t trace the call, so I’m not concerned about that. The cell number you’re calling from is blocked so they can’t even see that. Make it as quick as possible.”
Shiro walked over to the comfortable chair and sat as he dialed the number in Hawaii. After four rings, his grandma answered the phone.
“Yes, who is it?”
“Grandma, it’s me, your grandson!”
“Oh my dear, what have you done? I saw on the news that you were arrested for killi
ng a policeman! Did you? Were you forced to do that?”
“I can’t really talk about that. I’m in isolation and was allowed by the guards to make one phone call to anywhere after I bribed them. Are you well? You didn’t sound okay the last time we spoke.”
“There were two men here, Japanese men, and they forced me to call you. I tried to tip you off by the words I chose carefully.”
“Yes, I felt there was something wrong. The men, where are they now? Are they still there?” a worried Shiro asked.
“No, they left about an hour ago and should be up in the mountains by now. Don’t worry about those men. They fell asleep and dreamt the long dream of tomorrow.”
Shiro recognised that sentence from a poem she used to read to him when he was little. It was about the trip to the hereafter that an old married couple made after over one hundred years loving each other.
Oh, my god. She killed them!
He chose his words carefully because grandma was a bit crazy and had her own way about things. If he got upset, she’d hang up on him.
“Do you know who these men were?”
“Yes, one man told me his name was Keizo just before he began his dream. The other man—the one with death in his eyes was Nobuo.”
“Keizo! Are you sure he said his name was Keizo, Grandma?”
“Quite certain. He would not have lied to me on his way to sleep.”
“Tell me about his hair, please.”
“It was long black hair, quite beautiful if you want to know the truth. It made the silver Buddha on his necklace stand out in contrast.”
Shiro’s breath caught in his throat as he remembered the beauty that was Keizo and the incredible intimate time they’d spent together. He could have fallen in deep love with the man who his own grandmother had killed.
“Was he alone as he went to sleep?”
“No, Shiro. I felt sorry for him and held his hand until he went to sleep. The man with death and hate on his face went to sleep all alone as he should have.”
“I’m glad you are unharmed and well, my Grandmother,” Shiro said with a tear in his eyes.
“Yes, I am fine,” she replied.
My Yakuza Page 11