The Man With The Red Tattoo

by Benson, Raymond

  This distraction kept Bond from noticing the two men sitting with drinks in the lounge, which was set apart from the lobby but in plain view of it. Both men had crew cuts and were wearing yukata and tanzen provided by the hotel. They did not need to exchange a glance when Bond and Mayumi walked through. One man took the mobile out of his pocket and made a call.

  It was just before sunset when Bond had a brief conversation with Tanaka over the phone.

  “Yamamaru-san is all right and was discharged from the clinic,” Tanaka said. “He will rendezvous with you later. Get some rest. However, I must warn you that his Ainu contacts in Noboribetsu have reported that there is a lot of yakuza activity there. Keep a low profile. They are looking for you.”

  They discussed what must be done with Mayumi McMahon and agreed that Bond should get her back to Tokyo as soon as possible. But both men decided that having a look at the mosquito control facility in Noboribetsu was a good idea, provided that Bond could get inside it without causing a major disturbance. Bond didn’t particularly want to wait until nightfall, but he resigned himself to sitting out the next few hours with Mayumi. He hated waiting, and he had done a lot of it in his line of work. Normally he couldn’t bear to sit in a hotel room or an airport lobby waiting for instructions or a message from superiors. Now even in these luxurious surroundings, he felt restless and anxious for something to happen.

  Bond decided to check on Mayumi. He called her room, but the phone rang and rang. Angrily, he hung up, threw on a yukata and glanced at his shoulder holster hanging over a chair. Not practical. Instead, Bond took the small plastic dagger from his field-issue shoe heel and hid it inside the yukata. He quickly left his room, walked down two doors to Mayumi’s, and knocked loudly. There was no answer.

  Bond swore under his breath. He looked down the corridor and saw a chambermaid about to enter one of the rooms. Bond sprinted to her and asked if she had seen a young girl come out of room 223. The woman replied that yes, she had. The girl had asked her how to get to the baths.

  Bond took the lift down to the onsen complex in the hotel. While in some Japanese onsen men and women shared one bathhouse, here it was not so. To hell with it, he thought. He was going in the women’s side.

  The sight of two dressed men entering the women’s baths ahead of him hardened his resolve. They had crew cuts and looked like bodybuilders. Bond smelled yakuza.

  Bond hurried into the locker room. Several women in states of undress were upset and calling for help. The two men must have gone on through to the baths. Bond heard screams coming from that direction. He kicked off his slippers and ran through the locker room and into the baths complex. The baths occupied more than one level of the hotel and guests were allowed to wander from floor to floor trying out the hot mineral pools, waterfalls, walking pools, freezing cold pools, steam room and swimming pool.

  Bond found himself in a hot and steamy room. Naked and frightened women were huddled together, clutching their towels. Bond ran across the wet tiled floor searching frantically for his prey in the various pools, but a scream that sounded like Mayumi directed him towards the outdoor terrace, where guests could sit in a gigantic hot tub under the stars.

  More wet, naked women ran shrieking past Bond as he ran through the door to the terrace. The two yakuza had pulled Mayumi out of the water and were struggling with her. One of them had a cord around the girl’s neck and was attempting to choke her to death.

  The man who was trying to hold Mayumi down saw Bond rushing towards them. He let go of Mayumi so that he could counter-attack but he wasn’t fast enough. Bond pulled back his right fist and put his full weight into a power punch to the man’s chin. The yakuza’s head jerked back with a snap and he fell to the ground.

  The other man was still trying to choke Mayumi but he was having a very difficult time holding her alone. Bond leaped onto him and locked his arm around the man’s throat.

  “Let her go,” Bond said through his teeth.

  But the yakuza ignored him. Allowing his anger to get the better of him, Bond grabbed a tight hold of the man’s head and then jerked it to the right sharply and forcefully. The sound of the man’s neck snapping was extremely satisfying. The cord loosened and Mayumi fell to her knees, coughing and sputtering. Bond let the man’s body crumple to the ground and pushed it into the hot tub with his foot.

  But before he could see to Mayumi, someone slammed into Bond’s back, knocking him into the water. The heat was intense. He immediately broke the surface to gasp for air and caught sight of three men jumping into the tub after him. Obviously a second team of killers had targeted Bond and followed him into the baths.

  Bond placed his hands behind him on the edge of the tub so that he could raise himself out of the water, but the two men on either side of him grabbed his arms. Bond broke one man’s grip, the one on his right, and lashed out with a forceful blow to the yakuza’s nose. The other man, however, threw himself into Bond and shoved him into the hot water. The third man moved across the tub to join the mêlée. Bond found himself being held below the surface by all three men as they gripped his arms, head and shoulders. Bond struggled but it was no use. If he hadn’t been submerged he might have been able to break their hold, but the weight of the water slowed his defensive manoeuvres. Fighting in the water was difficult. No matter how hard he pushed, the speed was always the same. Strength was about the only tool he had, and Bond was outnumbered three to one.

  Although he was able to hold his breath for an extraordinary amount of time, he could not resist the laws of physics. His lungs burned as they screamed for air. He tried clawing and pinching, but the men just tightened their vicelike grips.

  Do something! Bond commanded himself. Wait! The knife! He had felt it come loose from his yukata and watched it float to the bottom of the tub. Bond felt the tub floor with his bare foot and finally found it. Grasping it with his toes, he managed to pull it up far enough so that he could take it with his hands. He pulled out the blade, held it firmly, and then slashed the man on his right across the stomach. From underwater, Bond heard the man scream. He loosened his grip, allowing Bond to wriggle out from under the other two through water now thickened with blood.

  He surfaced and gasped for air. The two remaining yakuza lunged at him, knocking him back against the side of the tub. Bond thrust out his arm and couldn’t help making a wild, reckless arc with the knife. It connected with something and one of the men yelped, clutching his face.

  The uninjured attacker backed off, giving Bond time to scramble out of the tub. Once he was standing, he kicked the man with the stomach wound in the face and knocked him into the water. The second injured man was already blinded, shouting for help. Bond ignored him and focused his attention on the one man who was still standing in the water.

  “Here, catch!” Bond said.

  He flung the knife at the man. It spun in the air and skewered the yakuza’s eye. The man’s mouth opened wide in horror as he fell back into the water, which was now foaming with blood.

  Bond then knelt beside Mayumi. She put her arms around him, still gasping and sobbing. Her neck bore a livid red welt where the cord had burned her skin.

  “How—how did they find us?” she stuttered.

  “Determination and the Japanese work ethic,” Bond said.

  He noticed that she was clutching something in her hand.

  “What’s that?” he asked.

  Mayumi coughed again and tried to breathe deeply. She exhaled loudly and said, “One of them had this in his jacket pocket. I was grabbing at anything and everything and happened to pull it out.”

  It was an employee identification card. Bond took it from her and examined it. The card read “Hokkaido Mosquito and Vector Control Centre” and there was a photo of the man and a magnetic strip on it.

  “Mayumi, this is a key card. These men were from that facility I need to see.”

  “I never knew that the Hokkaido government employed yakuza hit-men,” she said.

  �
��Employees of Yonai Enterprises, more likely. Or soldiers with the Ryujin-kai who act as security guards at the place.”

  The doors to the spa burst open and four hotel security guards shouted at them.

  Bond stood and held up his hands. The guards were unarmed, as was the policy in Japan—the police never carried firearms either—but the guards exhibited enough malevolence to convince Bond that he shouldn’t try to escape. Besides, Tiger would fix everything.

  “Come on, Mayumi,” Bond said. “I think it’s time to check out.”

  TWENTY-TWO

  CAUGHT!

  “I’M COMING WITH YOU!” MAYUMI SAID, GRITTING HER TEETH AND FOLDING her arms in front of her. The angry red welt on her neck seemed to intensify when she asserted herself. She had changed into the T-shirt and designer jeans that Bond had bought her along with a hat and sunglasses in the hotel boutique. She looked like a student.

  “It’s too dangerous,” Bond insisted.

  The sun had set and the lights of Noboribetsu were bright and flashy but the small resort town was nothing like the bigger cities. The shops and restaurants on the main street were alive and open for business but the areas beyond that were dark and foreboding. The mountains in the distance and the woods surrounding them created the illusion that the little town was in the middle of a deep, dark forest, miles away from civilisation.

  “I want you to check into another hotel and wait until I come back,” Bond said as he unfolded a map that Ikuo had given him. The mosquito control centre was clearly marked, located on a side road not very far from the Dai-ichi Takimotokan.

  “No,” she said stubbornly. “I’m staying with you. I owe it to my mother and my sisters to see this through.”

  “Why not your father?” Bond asked.

  She grew silent.

  “Him too, I guess,” she muttered finally.

  “Why do you hate him so much?”

  “Because he’s a liar and a hypocrite.”

  “How so?”

  “Never mind. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Mayumi, if you know something that might help us, then—”

  “Shut up!” she spat. “I said I don’t want to talk about it!”

  “Mayumi, it’s simply not safe for you to come with me,” he said with a sigh.

  “Look, if I don’t come with you, I’m leaving,” she said, digging in her heels. “And you won’t be able to stop me.”

  Bond shook his head and looked at the heavens. She was an impossible girl. It was no wonder that she had been in constant conflict with her parents. She was perhaps the most wilful girl he’d ever known.

  Finally, Bond said through clenched teeth, “Well, if you’re coming with me, then I insist that you do everything I say. You’re to be quiet and follow my orders, do you understand?”

  “Yes, master.”

  Bond scowled at her but she simply smiled wickedly at him.

  “You can be pretty sexy when you’re a bully, James-san,” she said.

  He ignored her and said, “It’s close enough to walk there. It will be safer.”

  They walked up the hill away from the Dai-ichi and towards the Valley of Hell. A narrow two-lane road jutted off into the woods on the other side of the main street. The couple turned and began to walk in that direction, where there were no street lamps or any other lamps. It was almost pitch black.

  An animal ran across the road in front of them and Mayumi shrieked.

  “Did you see that? A fox!” she whispered.

  “Quiet!” Bond silently cursed the girl. Women could not be relied upon to keep their mouths shut.

  They continued until, twenty minutes later, they came to a fork. The larger road continued on, curving to the right, while an unpaved road split off to the left. A sign was marked in Japanese and English: “Private Property, Keep Out.”

  “Do you recall any of this from when you were here?” Bond asked.

  “I remember this road. I was pretty stoned that night so I don’t remember much else.”

  They walked quietly down the dirt path and eventually came to a high steel fence. Bond examined the gate and found that there was an electronic lock and numeric keypad attached to it. The key card she had taken from the thug at the hotel was not compatible with it.

  “I don’t suppose you know the code,” Bond said.

  “Afraid not, master.”

  “I’m not in the mood for your nonsense,” he said. Bond reached into his pocket and removed the Palm Pilot. Major Boothroyd had said that the electro-magnetic device was weak but that it might disable small electric appliances. Would it work on an electronic keypad?

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “Shhh.”

  Bond opened the Palm and held it next to the lock.

  “I’m guessing that there is a failsafe mechanism on the system,” he whispered. “In the event that power is knocked out to the compound, say, because of a fire, they wouldn’t want everyone locked in, would they?”

  “What are you talking about?” she asked.

  “Never mind.” He pressed the appropriate buttons and held the contraption steady. It hummed softly and slightly vibrated, the illuminated LED on the gate’s keypad flickered once, twice, and then went out.

  Bond tried the gate and it opened with a click. He had guessed correctly: the mechanism unlocked when the power was interrupted.

  “Hey, it worked!” Mayumi said. “That was pretty cool! How did you do that?”

  “Magic. Now be quiet.”

  The dirt road curved through a group of trees some fifty metres ahead until it stopped at a squat one-storey building made of concrete and stone. The design was typically Japanese and very modern, with diagonal lines and a slanting roof; it looked more like an art museum than a scientific laboratory. The windows were frosted but light shone through them. There were people inside.

  “A late night at the office,” murmured Bond. “Let’s go round the back.”

  They circled the building and found a gravelled car park containing nine cars. A door marked as an employee entrance opened suddenly. Bond pulled Mayumi against the wall, unwittingly knocking the breath out of her. She gasped and Bond put his hand over her mouth.

  Two men came out of the building, laughing about something. They didn’t see the couple in the shadows. Instead, they walked past them to a 4 [x] 4, got in it, and drove away.

  Mayumi breathed deeply for a moment. “You could be a bit more gentle,” she said.

  “You insisted on coming. You play by my rules. Now, wait for me here while I go inside.”

  “Screw that, I’m coming with you. Lead on.”

  Bond thought for a moment. She would be more of a liability outside and restless.

  Christ! This girl was a millstone around his neck. “Okay,” he said. “Follow me. But keep your mouth shut.”

  Bond took her key card and swiped it through the slot next to the employee entrance. The catch clicked.

  Bond carefully opened the door and peered inside. It was a shiny and sterile steel-lined corridor. The coast was clear.

  “Let’s go.”

  They crept through the corridor and heard voices in other parts of the building. When they reached the end of the hallway, the corridor branched in a T. It appeared that offices were to the right. To the left was a set of double steel doors with small, yellow-tinted windows in the centres. Bond looked through them to see one end of a fairly large laboratory. Men were busy at workstations, all wearing full-body protective suits, much like the kind worn against exposure to radiation. The laboratory consisted of a variety of metal tables, computers, machines, and what appeared to be glass cubicles built into the walls. The sterility and stainless steel furnishings reminded Bond of a surgical theatre.

  Two workers began to walk towards the doors.

  “Against the wall!” Bond hissed. He pushed her behind the door and he took the position on the opposite side. Bond drew the Walther and held it by the barrel. The doors swung open an
d the two men wearing protective suits came through. As soon as the doors closed, Bond swung out and struck one man on the back of the head with the butt of the gun. Without waiting to see if his blow was successful, he immediately raised his arm to hit the other man but his target turned to ward off the attack. He was fast: he grabbed Bond’s wrist in mid-air and pushed him against the wall. The first man collapsed onto the floor, out cold. Bond attempted to knee the second man in the groin but the protective suit was too bulky for the strike to be effective. Mayumi, who was standing behind Bond’s attacker, drew the Browning from her waist and slammed the butt down on the man’s head. He jerked and Bond could see the man’s eyes roll up into his head behind the tinted faceplate.

  “Good work,” Bond said as the man fell to the floor.

  “See? Aren’t you glad I came along?” she said, winking at him.

  “No. But as you’re here, take that man. I’ll get this one.” Bond grabbed the other man by the shoulders and dragged him down the corridor the way they had come. Mayumi copied him. Bond listened at the first door they came to and after satisfying himself that the room was empty, he opened it.

  It was a small office. Bond pulled his man inside and Mayumi followed. They closed the door and began to strip their victims of the protective suits.

  One of the men looked familiar to Bond. He was slight, with spectacles and a crew cut. Where had he seen this man before? In Tokyo? Yes, that was it! This was the man from the CureLab office, the one who had been working on the mosquito sideshow presentation. Bond looked at his ID card and verified that his name was Fujio Aida.

  Five minutes later, Bond and Mayumi, dressed in the protective suits, walked out of the office and purposefully headed toward the lab as if they knew exactly what they were doing. They opened the doors and walked inside, turned the corner and beheld the full extent of the complex.

  It was huge. The size of the building’s exterior had been deceptive. The lab was easily the size of two cricket pitches side by side. Machines and computers dominated the room, but of particular interest were the glass chambers along one side of the lab that appeared to contain flying insects. Terraria lined another wall and some of these were half-filled with water and appeared to be insect breeding incubators. At least ten other men were in the room, busy at the terminals or working with test tubes and beakers.