by wade coleman
“Fair enough.”
We pack everything, leave the hotel, and wait for the light to change. People on their bikes watch Kim cross the street. She sashays, giving them an eyeful, and I’m proud she’s with me. We climb the steps to the third floor of the garage and unplug our bikes. After paying cash to the man in a booth, the gate opens.
A little after seven, Kim and I arrive at the Honshu and park in front. Two men come up to park our bikes, and I put a silver dime in each of their hands.
“Keep them close.”
One of the men opens a door, and we walk in. The entrance is a red tile floor with a dragon fountain near the check-in desk.
A woman smiles and bows to me. “Do you have a reservation, sir?”
“We have an appointment with Mr. Fukui at eight o’clock, but we’ll hang at the bar until then.”
The bar is busy, and I catch a waitress and order two club sodas. We find a spot next to the window with a tiny table and stools.
Kim’s new dress is form-fitting, the straps cut to accent her breasts; the skirt stops at mid-thigh. A waitress brings our drinks. I pay, leaving a generous tip, and she walks away.
I pull a gold chain necklace out of my pocket and put it in Kim’s hand. “I got this for you.”
She examines the necklace, her elbows resting on the high table, looking at it close up with one eye. “It’s beautiful.” She lowers the necklace and looks at me. “You’re exciting and dangerous, and I like that. But you’re just not my type.”
I take a sip of club soda. “That’s what I thought when I first saw you, ‘You’re too thin.’ I like girls with more meat on their bones.”
She gives me an amused look. “Me, too.”
Taking the necklace from her hand, I swivel her stool so that she faces the window and clasp the gold chain around her neck. “Still, straight or lesbian, beautiful women deserve beautiful things. I want you to have this.”
She looks at herself in the reflection, fingering the chain. I have to admit; it does go with the outfit.
“You do have an eye for dressing a girl.” A softness comes to her eyes that I’ve never seen before. “This is the nicest thing someone has ever done for me. If you gained forty pounds, got a sex change and grew your hair out, I’d give you a go.”
“That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me.”
We laugh, and Kim pulls her chair up close, so we sit next to each other, people watching while we wait. The bar and restaurant are filled with well-dressed people enjoying their night out.
At 8:15, the hostess in a kimono leads us to a staircase behind the bathrooms. She removes the velvet robe where a dwarf-mutant in a black suit leads us up the stairs. We walk on the balcony overlooking the restaurant, the hall ending with a solid mahogany door.
The door opens, and the Japanese dwarf missing a pinky finger frisks us. I hold my breath as Kim is frisked, his hands move too quickly, and he misses the Beretta taped to Kim’s inner thigh. If his boss finds out he made a mistake, he’ll take off his other pinky. The dwarf steps back and we enter.
The room is set up like a bar, a counter with stools, and a couch against the far wall. At the center is a table that doubles as a mahjong board. Over the shrine is a samurai sword. Sitting on a marble stand near the entrance is a dragon made of gold, its body serpentine. The eyes are rubies, a blue star sapphire the size of a golf ball resting in its claw. Suddenly I get this feeling of deja-vu and feel a little dizzy.
A man walks up to me with faceted eyes the size of black eggs.
I know the face, I saw it in a dream a few nights ago.
Mr. Fukui turns to the dragon statue the size of a large cat, he points and starts speaking, but I can’t hear him. Instead, I hear Natasha’s voice.
“Darling, I know him…he killed Mark Lukas and almost killed me. I don’t like him.”
“Do you remember what happened?” I whisper.
“Yes, darling, I will show you…You need to know what kind of man he is.”
* * *
Suddenly, the scene changes. I’m in the same room, but I’m sitting at a mahjong table shuffling a deck of cards with one hand. I’m Mark…looking through his eyes. Mr. Fukui sits across from me. The mutant to my right is an elf with ice blue eyes. The man to the left, I recognize from the news, our Mayor, Samuel Clay.
The four of us ante a red chip worth fifty thousand credits.
The man to my left cuts and I deal from the bottom of the deck, my hands too fast for anyone to follow, not even the elf’s sharp eyes. Luckily that nosy telepath standing at the bar can’t read me with my implant.
I deal Mr. Fukui three kings. I deal myself three nines. I deal the mayor two jacks and the elf with ice blue eyes two sevens.
Mayor clay tosses in a red chip. “I’ll raise fifty.”
Mr. Fukui tosses in three chips. “I’ll see your fifty and raise one hundred.
The elf calls and I toss in three chips and say, “I’ll see your raise.” I toss in two more chips and everyone around the table pays the ante.
I deal the Mayor another jack for three of a kind. The elf gets another seven. I deal Mr. Fukui nothing, but he still holds three kings. I give myself two fives for a full house, nines high.
The mayor tosses in two chips. “Raise one hundred.”
“I see your hundred and raise two hundred,” Mr. Fukui says.
The elf pushes his remaining chips to the center of the table and says, “All in.”
“So, that’s five hundred to me,” I say, but not in my voice. I’m speaking in another man’s tone, and the experience is kind of spooky. I push ten red chips to the center of the table. Looking at my last two chips, I say, “All in.”
Mayor Clay pushes in his pile of chips. “All in.”
Mr. Fukui pushes in his stack of chips. “All in.”
“Three Jacks,” the mayor smiles.
Mr. Fukui reveals his hand, “Three Kings.”
“Shit!” the mayor shrinks into his chair, sullen.
The elf with ice blue eyes throws his cards face down in defeat.
I reveal the full house, “Tough break, guys. Better luck next time.”
Mr. Fukui stands up, his face red, and yells, “You think you can come into my establishment and cheat me?”
I stand, “I never cheated anybody in my life. I’d like to cash out. I believe that’s two-and-a-half million credits.”
Mr. Fukui looks at the elf, and he kicks me in the back of the knee. I go down on my hands and knees in pain. When I try to get up, the blue-eyed elf punches me in the kidney, and I curl on my side. “Okay, you can keep the money,” I gasp through the waves of pain.
Mr. Fukui retrieves a samurai sword over a shrine and walks over to me.
While I lay on the ground, he points the sword at my head. “I know you have an implant.” He then strolls over to the mahjong table and places the blade on the pile of chips.
The elf with blue eyes grabs me by the hair while the telepath helps me to my feet. The telepath is also an elf with dark skin, eyes, and hair. They bend me over the table, the chips pressed against my cheek.
Mayor Clay gets up from the table, “Perhaps I should be leaving.”
“Of course,” Mr. Fukui says. “Since our guest was cheating, it seems only fair that you take the winnings. I’ll wire them to your offshore account.”
The Mayor leaves.
“Now what should I do with you, Mr. Lukas?” Mr. Fukui taps the blade on my neck.
Mr. Lukas tries to plead, but it’s coming from my lips. I have never experienced Natasha’s technology like this before, and I don’t like it because I’m pretty sure what comes next.
“Guys, I’m a personal friend of Jason Baron. If he finds out you killed me, he’ll kill you, as well.” I try to get up from the table, but the elf punches me in the same kidney, my breath going out, and the lights growing dim.
He rests the sword on my neck. “The mayor will not help you, now that he has your money and mine. An
d your friend the Baron cares about making deadlines, not people.” He taps the sword on my neck, making a cut, blood running down my neck. “Your death will not affect his plans, so at the most, he’ll be annoyed.” He raises the sword. “You are just a small player in a big game, Mr. Lukas; I doubt you’ll be missed.”
Sharp pain in my neck followed by a blinding light. My vision seems to tumble as I roll off the pile of chips and onto the floor. The dark elf grabs my hair and lifts my disembodied head. Even though it’s Mark’s head, it feels like it’s happened to me. The whole sensation is very real and unsettling.
“At least the evening wasn’t a total loss,” Mr. Fukui says. “A used implant is worth ten thousand credits on the black market.”
The colors fade, and the light goes dim. Natasha’s last memory is floating in a bucket of organ preservative, and I get the sensation I’m drowning.
* * *
The scene fades and I’m back with Kim, staring at the dragon. Mr. Fukui has the sapphire in his hand as he is speaking. It takes me a while to adjust and realize I’m back in the present moment. Mark Lukas was killed by Mr. Fukui, and it feels like it happened to me. I shiver from a chill.
“…the Kukan holds a star sapphire.” His voice comes into focus now that Natasha has stopped relaying her last memory to me.
Mr. Fukui holds the sapphire up to a light, and a blue star glows from the center. “A master sculpture made five dragons, one for each element, as a gift to our Emperor.” He gently puts the sphere back. “Each dragon has a different gem in the claw to designate its element. As you can see, this is the Kukan, the sky dragon.”
Kim pokes me in the ribs and gives me “I told you so” look. Kukan is the name of her guardian angel.
We stand there a minute, admiring the workmanship. It feels like the dragon is staring back at me, so I look away.
He runs his fingers down the dragon’s back, slender and serpent-like. “Yes, you feel its power. It has presence…it is said the Emperor put the Kukan by his bedside when he sought her guidance in a dream.”
He puts his hands behind his back and walks over to the mahjong table. I follow him as he continues to speak: “The plague designed to kill the Japanese was most effective. Our emperor and most of the royal family died. In the chaos, the dragons fled.”
We arrive at the table. There are blood stains on the white marble inlaid in the mahogany table top. I get a very eerie feeling sitting in the chair where Mark played his last hand.
Two men stand behind Mr. Fukui. To his left is an elf with ice blue eyes. To the right is a dark elf, his skin the color like indigo ink, his eyes and hair solid black. The elves wear matching black suits like Mr. Fukui. I can tell by the stitching that it’s bullet resistant.
Kim stands behind my chair.
Sake is poured for the two of us by a Japanese woman wearing a kimono. We sip once, then again.
The dark elf whispers in Mr. Fukui’s ear.
At the same time, Kim whispers into mine: “The dark elf is a telepath. He can’t read you. But they know I’m a telepath as well. Be careful, Hermes.”
“I know of your associate, but I don’t know you?” Mr. Fukui says to me.
“My name is Michael Wong.”
“Your employee has a bounty on her head. She stole from the wrong people.”
“Hasn’t the twelve hundred silver settled the matter?”
He takes a sip of sake. “No, the price has doubled.”
“If you’ll allow me, I’ll retrieve my phone and transfer the money.”
He nods. I get out my phone while the blue-eyed elf hands me an account number. I transfer a hundred thousand credits, ten times the agreed price. After seeing how Mr. Fukui treats his enemies, I think it best to be his friend. Nothings buys friends better than cash, at least temporarily.
We continue to sip our sake. The man to the left checks his phone, whispers in Mr. Fukui’s ear again and stands up from the table. “Let us share a drink before you go.”
He walks over to the bar, sits down and points to the seat next to him. I order vodka, neat, from the bartender, and Mr. Fukui gets whiskey.
“You puzzle me.”
I raise my eyebrows. “How so?”
“By now, spies have alerted my competitors that you are here. Soon you will be surrounded by assassins. Why do you expose yourself so easily?”
I take a sip of my drink, enjoying the slow burn, which gives me time to think. I planned to offer Mr. Fukui five million credits for information on where they’re making the virus, but now that Natasha has shared the last memory of her previous host, I realize that is a bad idea. The Mayor of Frisco is friends with the Jason Baron. I bet the Mayor knows about the virus, and so does Mr. Fukui. If that is the case, then asking about the virus is a very bad idea. I change my plans and say, “I have come to you for help with the Vory. They were most unscrupulous in a business deal, and I need to exact revenge.”
I look at Mr. Fukui. His faceted eyes are inscrutable, but he nods at me to proceed.
Reaching into my pocket, I pull out a hard drive, a gold-plated piece of plastic the size of a credit card, and put it on the counter between us. The hard drive is a clone of the original from Kim’s laptop, but my forgery is perfect.
“This is the hard drive from the tablet computer that was stolen; I would like to exchange this for a favor.”
He takes a sip and nods again.
“The Vory are hosting a summer solstice party at their club, Alexander’s. If you could arrange a distraction, smoke bombs, disrupt power, and perhaps take down their barricades. My crew will be able to take care of the rest.”
He looks over at me, “Why did you come to see me? You could have sent an agent?”
“If the truth is known, I owe her my life, and she asked me to resolve the matter between her and the Inner-City Gang. And… I had to see the Kukan.”
For a second, a corner of his mouth curls up. “Yes, of course, I understand completely. You can sense power, just as I can.” He gets up from the bar and smiles, revealing sharpened teeth. “Power broods about your edges, Mr. Wong.”
Mr. Fukui faces Kim. “You have been most resourceful, eluding assassins. Your telepathic powers are impressive, but everyone is vulnerable when they are alone,” his voice carrying a threat. “But now it seems you are not alone, and I owe your employer a favor, so the matter is settled.”
Kim bows low and says nothing.
I step away from the bar and face him. “Considering the circumstance, I would like to purchase some armor-piercing rounds.”
Mr. Fukui raises one eyebrow. “Yes, of course,” Mr. Fukui looks at the elf with the ice blue eyes.
The elf makes a call. Mr. Fukui walks over to the door and stands next to the Kukan. “You may touch her for luck.”
I put my finger on the dragon’s brow. It’s cold to the touch even under a hot spotlight. Running my finger down its spine, the dragon vibrates like a string on a bass guitar. The back of my ears vibrates in sympathy with the dragon’s song. My finger leaves the Kukan’s tail and the humming stops.
Mr. Fukui and I exchange bows.
“Good luck. I expect you will have an interesting evening.”
I smile. “Thank you. I’m looking forward to my adventure.”
The dwarf doorman in a black suit opens the mahogany door, and he escorts us out of the room. As we pass the exit, I give the Kukan one last lingering glance; its ruby eyes seduce me. While leaving the room, I visualize what she would look like sitting on my desk at home, and the thought brings a smile to my face.
Kim says, “We need a place to change before we go.”
Our guide nods and takes us out through the kitchen exit. Two mutants park our bikes by the dumpster, the air thick with the smell of rotting fish.
We retrieve our change of clothes from our satchels, and the dwarf leads us back into the kitchen. Dodging the staff who are preparing meals, we enter the pantry. Inside are rows of shelves stocked with dry goods.<
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Taking off her dress, Kim removes the Beretta taped to her thigh and puts on her bullet-resistant pants and shirt. I take off my suit and tie and put on a long-sleeve shirt, jeans, and running shoes. After dressing, Kim and I walk out the back door.
Parked next to our motorcycles is a Lincoln Continental with heavy-duty suspension. The elf with the ice blue eyes leans against the trunk.
“Greetings, I am Hoshi,” he hands me a card with his name and a phone number.
I bow and hand him my card with my name and disposable cell phone number. “My name is Michael.”
“I believe we have what you’re looking for,” Hoshi says and opens the trunk.
Inside is an arsenal: several automatic rifles, ammo, grenades and a set of goggles. No wonder he has heavy duty suspension on his car. This stuff must weight hundreds of pounds.
“Are these the new goggles? The ones with low light, infrared and zoom?”
“Yes, up to times eight magnification and an hour of video recording.”
Kim opens the ammo case. “Are these armor piercing rounds?”
Hoshi nods. Kim fills her vest with twenty round clips. Then she stuffs the bike satchel with fragmentary grenades. As an afterthought, she tapes an M-14 to her bike rack.
I give her a quizzical look.
She shrugs. “I don’t want to be the only one in the neighborhood who doesn’t have one.”
“Well, I don’t want to stand in the way of you fitting in,” I say and Kim smiles at me.
After we load up, I look at Hoshi. “How much?”
“Two hundred thousand credits.”
“I hold my disposable phone up to his and exchange the equivalent in Bitcoins. I check the four thermite grenades under my seat and I slide on the goggles. I touch the two flash-bang grenades in my vest and turn on the battery.
Hoshi bows. “You can be sure this place is watched and you will be followed.” He gestures to the bridge a half mile away. “Once you cross the river, you are in Vory territory and will be hunted.”