“Give me your gun! Do you have another clip?”
Koichi looked at him in disbelief. “I’m not running away from this piece of shit coward!”
“Kenji is still downstairs! You have to get him out of here!”
Koichi’s face clouded. He handed over his pistol and an extra clip of ammo he pulled from his shoulder holster rig.
“You’re right, Waters-san. Good hunting.”
Caine grabbed the gun and ammo and jammed them in his waistband. He sprinted towards the emergency exit on the other side of the room. He threw open the door and found himself high above the dark alley behind the building. The metal stairwell creaked and shook as he ran out onto the balcony. To the right, he spied a water pipe running parallel to the fire escape. Without hesitating, he grabbed the pipe and stepped off the fire escape.
The rusty metal pipe was slick with rainwater, and he slid faster than he was expecting. The peeled, flaking paint tore and bit at the skin on his hands. He grit his teeth and grabbed the pole tighter, slowing his decent as he neared the ground.
When he hit bottom, he fell from the pipe and rolled across the pavement. Gasping for breath, he staggered to his feet and drew the Colt. As he ran around the corner of the building, he ejected Koichi’s spent clip and slammed in the new one.
He burst out onto the street and jogged towards the other building. His hands were bloody and sore, making it hard to keep a firm grip on the pistol, but the pain was worth the head start he’d gotten on his adversary. He could see the dark figure across the street, just making it to the bottom of the fire escape.
Next to the office building, a bewildered Kenji waited alone behind the now-abandoned dumpling stand. “Hey, man, what the hell is going on?” he yelled. Caine ran past him into the street, splashing through the puddles that filled the cracked pavement.
Caine raised the pistol, taking aim at the dark figure now dropping to the ground. Traffic screeched to a halt as cars skidded around him on the wet streets. Before he could fire, a sleek red car streaked in front of him, blocking his shot. The man jumped into the passenger seat, and the car sped around the stopped traffic.
Caine swore until he realized he still had the keys to Kenji’s GTR. He turned back to the young man. “Koichi’s on his way down. Go with him!”
“Yeah, but what about my car?”
Caine ignored him as he sped back to the alley.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The black GTR tore out of the alley like a stealth fighter, screeching into the wet city streets.
Caine was just in time to see the tail lights of the getaway vehicle as they sped away from the building and rounded a corner. He stepped on the gas. The engine’s growl shifted to a high-pitched wail as the powerful car pursued its prey.
He clenched his jaw as the steering wheel vibrated in his hands. The GTR’s tires squealed as he drifted around a corner, but they held their grip on the slick, wet pavement. His quarry’s rear lights grew closer, as the two vehicles raced towards Ikebukuro station.
Caine realized he was chasing after the new Acura NSX, a 550 horsepower supercar. His Nissan maintained a slight edge in power, but the Acura was more nimble … and at these speeds, the slightest mistake would cost him his target. And quite possibly his life.
Closer to the train station, the NSX shot through an intersection. It looked like a curved stiletto perched on massive racing wheels, and all heads turned as it flew by. Caine growled as the light changed. A crowd of shoppers and pedestrians wandered out into the street, heading for the mall on the right.
He jerked the wheel to the side. The car smashed through a thin metal railing dividing the highway from the lanes to the left. It crumpled the barrier as if it were cardboard. A shower of sparks shot up in the air behind him, as the car caught and dragged a twisted scrap of metal along the ground. Caine turned the wheel again and swung around the crowd of people with inches to spare. He had just enough time to make out the shocked expressions on their faces as they watched him blaze past.
The car shuddered as the metal fragment dislodged and fell to the ground. The maneuver had cost him distance, but he could still see the Acura ahead. It sped around more traffic and pedestrians, then darted towards an exit off the freeway. Caine followed. Glancing down at the dash, he saw the speedometer creep towards ninety miles an hour. He caught a brief glimpse of a street sign before it became a blur in his rear-view mirror: they were heading towards the Yamate Tunnel.
Part of the Shunto Expressway, the eighteen-kilometer underground tube was monitored by traffic cameras at regular intervals. Caine knew it would not be long before they attracted the attention of the police. For a moment, he considered giving up the chase. If he were arrested, Rebecca would not be standing by to bail him out again. Plus, Bernatto would learn that Caine was alive, if he hadn’t already.
Instead, he stepped on the accelerator, closing the distance between him and the Acura. His instincts drove him to pursue. The people in that car had known he would turn up at Naka’s office, had been waiting there for him. There was a good chance they had been the ones to search the office, which meant they might have Naka’s cellphone—the next link in the mysterious chain that led to Hitomi.
He had to follow.
The Acura sped right, entering the twisting, banked curve of the tunnel entrance. Caine slid the GTR to the shoulder of the road, speeding past the commuters waiting their turn to enter. The road dipped down. Caine’s stomach fluttered as his car dove into the tunnel opening and the dark, rainy night disappeared behind him.
The tunnel was massive. Its grey concrete walls were illuminated by orange bursts of light that flashed overhead. The roar of the GTR and the high-pitched whine of the turbo-charged Acura merged in an unholy mechanical scream. As they shot past the traffic at the entrance, the cars behind them slowed to a crawl. For a brief second, they were alone in the tunnel, like two shiny bullets racing down the barrel of a gun.
Here on the smooth straightaway of the tunnel, Caine’s powerful GTR had the advantage. He closed the gap, pulling up next to the Acura. He saw the driver glance over at him, his brow furrowed in determination. Caine turned his eyes back to the road. A sea of blinking red tail lights filled his view: they had caught up with the tunnel traffic.
The Acura broke away, darting around a group of slower-moving cars. Caine braked to avoid slamming into a Toyota van. He jammed his fist down on the horn as he jagged left and right, looking for an opening in the traffic. A white Mercedes driven by a perfectly coiffed young lady pulled over, letting him pass. She gave him the finger as he sped by.
Up ahead, he spotted the Acura’s distinctive tail light bar. The traffic had forced its driver to slow down as well. The car’s racing tires squealed as it swerved around a green-and-white taxicab. The cab slammed on its brakes, letting the Acura zip past. Caine darted left, barely sliding past the stopped vehicle. He heard the sound of metal grating against metal. His passenger side mirror flew off as it scraped against the side of the cab.
He breathed a quick sigh of relief, then stamped back down on the gas. As he gained on the Acura, the traffic ahead slowed to a stop. Up ahead, two lanes of the tunnel merged into one. The single lane crawled forward to the left. A barricade blocking some road construction closed off the right lane. Beyond the barricade, the tunnel branched off into an exit.
Caine sped around a motorcyclist riding a Kawasaki crotch rocket. He was now neck and neck with the crimson Acura. They were running out of room, the split in traffic just a few hundred yards ahead. Caine chanced a quick glance at his adversary. The driver was staring straight ahead, not watching him. Caine clenched his jaw, braced himself, and threw the wheel to the right. The GTR slammed into the Acura at triple-digit speed. Both cars wove back and forth as they struggled to regain control. The GTR’s all-wheel drive regained its grip first, and he slammed into the Acura again.
Both cars drifted right, towards the barricade. With a crash of splintering wood, they exploded thro
ugh the barrier and charged down the closed tunnel exit. The unfinished section was barely lit at this hour. Between the pools of darkness, Caine saw flashes of construction equipment, stacks of metal pipes, and piles of debris.
Caine’s car shuddered as the Acura swerved over and slammed into him. Well, all’s fair, Caine thought as he struggled to keep control of his vehicle. The Acura slid towards him again. His rear wheels began to fishtail as the two cars crashed together. When they separated, bits of metal and trim fell from the cars and clanged behind them on the pavement.
In the hazy orange glow of the work lights up ahead, Caine saw a forklift. It was parked in the center of the unfinished exit lane. He straightened the GTR out and charged towards it. The driver of the Acura glared at him and sped up, keeping pace beside him. Caine looked over to see the driver jerk the wheel towards him again. But this time, Caine was ready.
He stepped on the gas and jagged right. The two cars scraped sheet metal, but Caine was able to keep his position. They continued speeding towards the forklift. He saw the menacing twin metal prongs of the lift platform, suspended in the air like blunt metal fangs.
He wove back and forth, keeping his distance from the Acura. The timing has to be perfect, he thought. He watched the Acura’s driver, saw him glancing back and forth between him and the road.
He straightened the car out and relaxed his fingers on the wheel, anticipating his enemy’s actions. Now! his brain screamed.
As the Acura driver once again jagged the wheel to the left, Caine slammed down on the brakes with both feet. The car shuddered, its anti-lock system struggling to engage. As Caine’s speed plummeted, the Acura slid left into empty space and shot in front of him.
Before the other driver could react, Caine slammed back down on the gas. In less than a second, the speedometer shot back up to triple digits. Caine’s car lurched forward and rammed into the rear of the Acura. The other driver struggled to control the car as it surged forward from the impact.
As Caine spun his wheel to the left, he sped past the Acura and saw the driver look up in horror. The NSX plowed straight into the forklift. As the two metal bodies collided, the twin prongs of the lift sheered the roof off the sports car. With a horrendous metal crash, the body of the car crumpled. The mass of fused metal flipped over into the air, slamming back down with an echoing clang.
Caine winced at the sound. He hit the brakes, his car skidding to a stop. He took a deep breath and removed his hands from the steering wheel. He waited until they stopped shaking. After a few seconds, the adrenalin racing through his body subsided.
He opened the door and jogged over to the wreckage. The stench of gasoline and burning metal assaulted his senses. He knelt down next to the remains of the Acura. It was almost impossible to tell where the sports car ended and the forklift began.
Caine peered into what remained of the cabin. The blades of the forklift had punctured the front airbags. The white cloth of the bag draped over the driver, concealing his mangled face. A light dust of talcum powder covered his clothes. Caine patted down his body but found nothing of interest. The man had been wearing a black suit and his arms were scarred and burned, but the wounds weren’t fresh.
He moved on to the passenger. The man wore similar clothing, now ripped and torn. Caine opened his shirt, revealing the same burn marks on his shoulder and chest. He was certain now. These men were Tokyo Black.
Reaching into the man’s jacket, he found two cellphones that had survived the crash. He slid them into his pocket and looked back at Kenji’s car. The beautiful GTR’s black paint had been scraped off on the passenger side. Long red streaks from the Acura’s paint ran the length of the dented and dinged metal body. The vehicle could be easily tied to this crash.
“Sorry, Kenji,” Caine muttered to himself.
He drew his pistol and fired a barrage of shots into the gas tank. A stream of clear fluid began to puddle beneath the car. Caine picked up a piece of burning debris from the Acura and hurled it at the gathering liquid. The gasoline ignited. Within seconds, flames engulfed the GTR. A thick cloud of toxic black smoke filled the tunnel.
Caine passed through a nearby evacuation door into a narrow, dim corridor. As he closed the door, the car exploded in a cloud of orange flame behind him. The fire crawled towards the Acura, consuming both the wreckage and the bodies inside.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The sun warms her back as Rebecca jogs along the wooded trail. The autumn leaves rustle in the air above her, whispers of red and orange. When she looks around, the colors are all she can see. Is that a tree? An old windmill ahead? The details fade, lost in a shifting haze of muted brilliance.
Then Caine is there, waiting for her at the end of the trail. She can just make out the green of his eyes. She runs towards him, fighting to catch a glimpse of him through the veil clouding her vision. Her feet pound along the path, but the carpet of dead leaves absorbs all sound. Is she getting any closer? She can’t tell. His voice calls to her.
“Rebecca, it’s time to wake up.”
She blinks, and everything changes. The mattress underneath her naked body is firm and warm. Caine’s hands cradle her gently. Dawn’s first light drifts in through the window. The autumn colors are replaced by the chocolate silk of her duvet, the soft white of her cotton sheets. Caine is next to her, behind her, perched above her. She rolls over and stares into his eyes.
He looks troubled. She caresses his cheek. “What is it?”
He looks away. “I have to go soon.” His voice is quiet. Hesitant. “I won’t be able to see you for a while.”
She tilts his face back towards her. “Is it a mission?”
He smiles, but the lines around his eyes are tense. He always looks awkward when he has to tell her the truth. “You know I can’t talk about it.”
She looks at him, confused. The words and the colors are jumbled in her mind. Nothing makes sense.
Chocolate brown, bright orange, crimson blood, soft white.
She rolls over. Her arm reaches out, but her fingers brush against cold, empty sheets. His body is gone. He was just there, she thinks.
Where has he gone?
“Rebecca, it’s time to wake up.”
“I have to go.”
“A disgrace and a traitor.”
“If Bernatto knows….”
Rebecca’s eyes fluttered open.
Towering before her stood the man who had dragged her from the wreck. She was sitting, her arms pinned behind her.
Before she could process her surroundings, the man swung out his arm and slapped her face. Her head swung to the side from the impact. She struggled, attempting to shrink away, but she was tied to a metal office chair. She blinked and moaned in pain.
“That’s fine, Mr. Douglas. She’s awake.”
“Allan!” she gasped. He was standing to her right, his hands jammed in the pockets of his pants. “What the hell are you doing here? What’s going on?”
He was slouching, and dark circles hung beneath his eyes. “Ms. Freeling, I won’t insult your intelligence, so please don’t insult mine. In point of fact, I have to say you’ve impressed me. You really did find the perfect asset for this operation. I couldn’t have done better myself.” He paused, considering her carefully. His lips curled around nicotine-stained teeth. “That’s about as high a compliment as I can give.”
Rebecca took a long, slow breath. As Bernatto spoke, she reviewed her circumstances, taking in the little details that surrounded her. Concrete walls. Water dripping from the ceiling, mold. The air was warm and dank. There were still in Pattaya. She could smell the humidity.
Bernatto watched her with tired, calm eyes. “Take your time, Ms. Freeling. Look around all you want. That’s what you were trained to do, after all. Scan, process, assess. Glad to see you were paying attention.”
Allan’s enforcer, bored by the conversation, turned away. He stepped in front of a rickety table and began cleaning an assortment of pistols with a wire brush.
“Allan, what the hell is going on here? Why are you—”
Allan’s eyes clouded with annoyance. He raised a hand in the air, like a frustrated parent scolding a toddler. “Please, Ms. Freeling, you know exactly why I’m here.”
“Allan, I don’t, I—”
“Thomas Caine.”
She shook her head. “What are you talking about? Caine is dead.”
Bernatto smiled, but there was no humor in his face. “I know Caine is your asset. Deniability is not the same thing as ignorance, Ms. Freeling. I’ve followed every step of your operation. I’ve had Mr. Douglas here tailing you since you arrived in Thailand. And I confirmed my intel with Ethan before I removed him from the playing field.”
Rebecca blinked back tears. She used her anger, her hatred of the man standing before her to keep her voice steady. “Removed him? Like you removed Jack Tyler? Like you tried to remove Caine?”
“More successfully, I can assure you. But, in the end, it seems everything worked out for the best. As I said, Caine is the perfect asset for this mission. His background, his experience … perfect.”
Rebecca struggled at her bonds, shaking the chair. “So everything Caine said was true. You set him up. Betrayed him. You’re a liar, a murderer, and a traitor!”
Allan’s face flashed with rage, and his arm twitched. Rebecca braced for the strike, but his anger faded as quickly as it surfaced. It was soon replaced by his usual emotionless gaze. “I’m no traitor. Everything I have done has been for the good of my country. No matter how myopic, bloated, and unrecognizable it’s become. And Caine … my dear, whatever you may think, believe me, you know nothing about Thomas Caine.”
“I know you framed him, hung him out to dry, and tried to have him killed.”
[Thomas Caine #1] Tokyo Black Page 12