The Fall of Io

by Wesley Chu

  The third family, the Inagawa-kai, had demanded an astounding sum just to arrange a sit-down, citing the risk of talking to a terrorist, as well as falling into the crosshairs of the police, the military and Rurik’s faction. At first Shura was furious, but the more she considered their position, the less she could blame them. She was radioactive right now.

  By evening, Shura and her remaining people had fled their swanky arrangements at the Ritz Carlton and had moved into a small pod hotel on the northern fringe of the city. Their temporary home was now three stacks of two pods each that served as their beds and living arrangements. The five of them shared a single bathroom and tiny kitchen. Their only pieces of furniture were a two-person sofa and a four-person dining table that only had two chairs.

  It was a steep drop from what Shura had grown accustomed to, but she didn’t mind. It was still a far cry better than many of the nights she had spent during the war. Currently, four of them were clustered around the table, watching a projection of the news off a tablet while Kloos hogged the bathroom. The man had been spending an inordinate amount of time in there lately. Apparently Japanese food did not agree with him.

  The news was displaying a three-dimensional video of Shura, in a sheer shoulderless peach dress with a plunging neckline, holding a champagne flute limply in her hand. Shura couldn’t be certain when that image was taken, but she guessed it was from a surveillance video taken during the Adonis vessel networking retreat at the Forbidden Palace four months ago. Rurik was playing dirty by using internal footage.

  Shura ground her teeth. This was unacceptable. She had a mind to complain to Weston about it. Not only was Rurik aiding the enemy by releasing possibly sensitive information about a high-standing vessel, she would likely never be able to work undercover again, much to the detriment of the Holy Ones.

  You have not gone undercover in two years. Besides, you have done far worse to Rurik than make him Internet-famous.

  That was true. She had burnt down his yacht last year.

  And stolen what amounted to nearly three hundred million euros worth of goods.

  “And killed his uncle.”

  You also stole his uncle’s dog.

  “I did no such thing. I rescued the poor thing. Little fuzzy Vitali would have eaten the corpse and starved if I had not done so.”

  Renaming the dog after the uncle was in poor taste.

  Shura shrugged. She continued staring at the surveillance video of her standing next to a champagne waterfall. She would engage with a small gathering of ambassadors before heading for the door. Shura remembered assassinating the North Korean Minister of Information shortly after leaving the room. Rurik at least had the decency to blot out all the other Adonis vessels. Only the projection of her was clear for the whole world to see.

  She walked to the window and looked out onto the streets below. She would stick out like a sore thumb in the city. If her long blonde hair and sharp nose didn’t give her away, her athletic build and deep eyes would. There were just too many ways to mark her in one of the most CCTV-ed cities in the world.

  She twisted her neck around. “Haucer, Valié, I need supplies.”

  Her people were back within the hour. Shura got to work. The first thing she did was take a blade to most of her hair, leaving just enough for her to dye dark brown. She had considered going full bald – she had always wanted to – but that would attract unwanted attention as well.

  Next, she took several types of makeup and made her face less like that of an Adonis vessel. Symmetry was the foundation of beauty, so she set out to disrupt the mirror halves of her face. With clever use of cosmetics and minimal prosthetics, she made one eye much larger, made her mouth appear to drop off on one end, and made her high cheekbones uneven. Lastly, she dirtied her complexion, making it angry and blotted, busy and attention-seeking to the point it pushed the prying eyes away.

  She turned to the others. “What do you think?”

  Kloos gave her one look and grunted. “You’re still pretty good-looking, but at least you don’t look quite like you any more.”

  “Good enough.” Satisfied, she wiped the work clean and started over, meaning to practice until she was able to apply it within minutes.

  There was a knock on the door.

  Four sets of weapons were drawn. Shura put down her cosmetics reluctantly. “Someone answer it. If it were the police, they would have kicked the door down by now.”

  A few seconds later, Valié returned with a boy of about ten or eleven. The boy walked up to Shura and offered her a deep bow. “The honorable Aizukotetsu-kai agree to a meeting. Because of your delicate situation, they require the meeting to be at a time and place of their choosing.”

  A trap?

  “It is likely. Nothing comes easy in Tokyo, it appears,” she thought to Tabs. She held her sarcastic remark at the tip of her tongue when she spoke as she waited for the inevitable outrageous demands to meet. “What are the terms?”

  “No other, Adonis. They only offer their word.”

  That was good enough for Shura. Leave it to the yakuza to have more honor than local law enforcement. Shura looked at the boy. “Tell your oyabun I look forward to meeting him.”

  The boy bowed. “You are to come with me now.”

  Shura exchanged glances with Kloos. “May we have an hour? Not all of our people are here.”

  That was a lie, but neither Shura nor Tabs knew much about this particular yakuza family.

  The boy shook his head. “You must come now. Leave your weapons.”

  “What’s the hurry?” asked Kloos.

  “Oyabun says come now or come never,” replied the boy.

  That is clever. It puts us at a disadvantage, gives you no chance to prepare and puts them fully in control.

  “Very well,” said Shura finally. “Lead the way.”

  Are you sure about this? I do not like it.

  “I do not either, Tabs, but we have few other options.”

  The boy was patient enough to at least let them get dressed. After that, he ordered them around as if he were a fledgling crime boss himself, marching them at a brisk pace into a waiting limousine. Shura and her people climbed inside an interior with fully tinted windows.

  Haucer tapped a fist on the glass. “Bullet- and shatter-proof.”

  Roxani fiddled with the sunroof. It was bolted shut.

  Kloos checked the window divider to the front seats. It was the same. He shrugged and sunk into the cushions. “It appears we’ve willingly crawled into a cell.”

  “A cell with champagne.” Shura reached over and plucked a bottle from an ice bucket. She poured herself a drink and offered a glass to the others. If the yakuza were planning on double-crossing her, at the very least they were doing so with class.

  The limousine began to move. The tint in the windows was so dark they couldn’t even see the shadows outside in spite of the sunshine. All they could feel was the acceleration, deceleration and centrifugal force when the limousine made a turn.

  Even traveling blind, it didn’t take long for Shura to determine where they were heading. Tabs was able to match their movements to a map of Tokyo she had memorized. What they lacked in a tangible body, the Holy Ones more than made up for with an eidetic memory and breathtaking analytical abilities.

  We are heading south toward downtown Tokyo. The business district, likely the Aizukotetsu-kai corporate headquarters.

  While she was confident things wouldn’t take a turn toward violence, Shura and her team prepared as if they were wading into another fight. The Aizukotetsu-kai was still a powerful organized crime family, and she had been completely wrong about the Tokyo police.

  By the time the limousine had come to a complete stop, Shura and her people were ready for all contingencies. The first surprise came when the doors opened and sunlight bathed the dark limousine interior. They were greeted by two rows of yakuza forming a line to the door.

  The yakuza bowe
d, knees bent and hands resting on their thighs. Shura noted the scabbards hanging off each yakuza’s hip: ceremonial swords, which, while a nice touch, were a bit unusual. Yakuza were neither ninja nor samurai, and while they were steeped in tradition and ceremony, they were not nostalgic. In previous centuries, the yakuza had ditched their swords the moment guns made them obsolete, and had quickly transitioned to hand grenades – or pineapples, as they were called – the moment Japan outlawed guns.

  They entered the office building and were promptly escorted up an escalator to an elevator. The Aizukotetsu-kai were the fourth-largest yakuza family in Japan, although they were more of a loose conglomeration of smaller gangs than their larger counterparts. Still, they followed a strict code of honor along with the other families, unlike the Tokyo police.

  You do not intend to let that go, do you?

  “Not until the day I die. God help them the day I take control of this country.”

  A woman with some degree of authority, in her mid-twenties by the look of her, greeted them at a section of the hallway that clearly delineated the public and private areas of the offices. She offered Shura a deep bow and held it for just a moment longer than necessary, then bade them to follow.

  “Who is she, Tabs?”

  According to our limited intelligence on the Aizukotetsu-kai, she is Bashira Nishiki, the granddaughter of the leader, heir to the crime family.

  “So she is someone worth knowing?”

  Possibly. The report also says that the oyabun is in poor health, and his granddaughter has only tenuous support among the other bosses in the family. The odds of her surviving the succession are low.

  “Pity.” Shura wanted more female leaders in the world, even in a crime family. Especially in a crime family, actually.

  They were escorted through a modern and updated corporate space to the private offices of the Aizukotetsu-kai. Shura hid her amusement with how loudly, proudly, and publicly these offices were kept. Leave it to the Japanese for even their organized crime to hold office hours.

  They passed several sections filled with state-of-the-art systems and monitors hanging from the ceilings displaying everything from up-to-the-minute information from the Nikkei indexes and commodity trades to the latest celebrity gossip and weather. All of this information was being absorbed and analyzed by a small army dressed like they worked at an investment bank. These were the modern yakuza.

  Shura and her team were escorted through a set of double doors that transported them into the past. Gone were the technology and screens, the marble floors and luminescent white lights. The room they entered was candle-lit with shoji screens on all four sides and tatami mats on the floor. In the center was a low table with a set of steaming tea cups.

  An older man, handsome, with a long face and short sheet-white hair, sat at the table. He looked exactly how one would expect a yakuza to look: tailored black suit and a pocked clean-shaven face. Tattoos fell out of his cuffs and crawled up his neck above his semi-unbuttoned collared shirt. His pinky finger was a stump.

  “Wait outside,” she said to her people.

  Kloos nodded, and Shura closed the screen door behind her. She walked to the center of the room and bowed, keeping her eyes lowered until the man gestured for her to join him. Shura did as asked, making sure to apply just the right amount of deference. Her efforts were not lost on her host.

  Shura picked up the pot. “May I?”

  The old man appeared amused. “Please do.”

  She poured them both tea, displaying perfect training in the traditional tea ceremony. Tabs, who had spent several centuries in Japan during the Tokugawa Shogunate, was on hand to help.

  He chuckled as he accepted her offering. “I see the Genjix prepare their diplomats well.”

  “I am not a diplomat,” she replied. “I am a warrior.”

  “War is the last resort of diplomacy.”

  “Or the lack of it. In any case, I trust that will not be necessary today.”

  “Let us hope.”

  She raised her cup. “I am Shura Mengsk, Adonis vessel of the Genjix and ruler of the India territory.”

  “I am Tanaka Nishiki, leader of the Aizukotetsu-kai. You have made large problems since you arrived in Japan just a few days ago. If this is the way the Genjix operate, then I fear our business is already concluded. The yakuza cannot have this trouble.”

  “A series of unfortunate events,” she replied. “I assure you, upheaval is not my intent. I wish to complete my business and be on my way.”

  “That is not what was broadcast on every television screen. Explain yourself.”

  Shura did, and in great detail. All of this Tanaka probably already knew. One did not rise to the top of a yakuza family by listening to one-sided truths. He was comparing her account to his own information, and probably testing her trustworthiness. The leader of this family was also putting her through the motions in order to glean more information about her. Was she hot-headed? Angry? Nervous? What were her verbal tics? Did she talk fast? Did her hands quiver?

  In every case, Shura showed him exactly what he would want in an ally and partner. Someone calm, resolute, tested, practical. The only thing she gave away was that she would not be closed off. Closely guarded allies made for poor ones. By the time she had finished speaking, she knew she had him.

  Tanaka pondered her words in silence for a good spell before speaking. “I understand your predicament. Now understand mine. You are one of the most wanted fugitives in all of Japan. Doing business with you carries a great deal of risk and could prove costly, so the price for the Aizukotetsu-kai’s cooperation will be high.

  “I have made inquiries, and my family may have what you seek. Your fellow Genjix made the same request. What he lacks in grace, he more than makes up for in wealth, which he assures me you cannot match. So what else can you offer the Aizukotetsu-kai?”

  The man was prepared.

  Shura considered his words, thinking about what Tanaka in his old age really wanted. She doubted someone in his position cared much for material things.Wealth and power were drivers for everyone, government and yakuza alike, but Tanaka did not reach this level by pursuing only wealth and power. His health looked questionable, but no more than many his age. He looked to be pushing seventy or eighty easily.

  This yakuza family is the only one who has agreed to speak with you. Raise their standing.

  Shura bowed. “First of all, I thank you for the great honor of sharing tea at your table. It is one that none of the other yakuza families have bestowed upon me.”

  “They are cautious,” said Tanaka. “Rightly so. For the moment, you are, to put it delicately, an individual most would rather not be seen around. The yakuza of today prefer to move with more subtlety.”

  “For that,” she continued, “I offer your family favored status on all shipping contracts from Indian ports.”

  Tanaka cracked a chuckle. “That is hardly a generous offer.”

  “You misunderstand, Oyabun. It is a gift, given freely regardless of the outcome of today’s talks.”

  To Tanaka’s credit, he didn’t blink, although she could see the calculations behind his eyes. The old man held a good poker face. Finally, he spoke. “Your generosity is appreciated.”

  That gift was amortized to about a billion yen a year, at least according to Tabs’s calculations.

  “As for your assistance in finding this individual hiding in your city, you are correct. I cannot match Rurik’s offer. I won’t even try. However, once he pays you, your business with him will be concluded. The next time you cross paths with the Genjix, you will again be a stranger, possibly even an enemy. If you ally with me, then the Aizukotetsu-kai will have a friend for life.”

  “Friendship is a valuable currency,” said Tanaka, “but one that cannot be spent.”

  “One day soon,” said Shura, “the Genjix’s influence will fall over Japan. It is inevitable. We understand that the yakuza have a p
lace in this society, but the Holy Ones do not tolerate inefficiencies or disruptions. When that day comes, we will require all yakuza to fall in line.”

  “Yes,” said Tanaka dryly. “We have closely observed what has transpired with many of the Triads on the mainland.”

  “The Genjix require order. We need only one representative, one voice who will speak for all yakuza. Those who refuse will be cleansed.” Shura paused. “When that voice is chosen, I would prefer to work with those I consider friends.”

  Tanaka frowned. “Do you have such authority?”

  “I will if I find the individual I seek.”

  Tanaka stared at her for a long while. Finally, he picked up his tea cup. “The Aizukotetsu-kai are always ready to aid a friend.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Exit Strategy

  Not all of Ella’s education at the Academy went to waste. As difficult as it was for her to socialize and connect with her peers, she discovered the value of teamwork and operating within a group. She had for most of her life been a lone operator unbeholden or responsible to anyone else. That changed at the Academy. Squad-based work was an important aspect of Academy training. It was here that Ella began to reassess the benefits of running with a crew.

  Not all of Ella’s experience working with a team was positive. She was once assigned as a squad leader for a three-day exercise in the Outback. Her actions contributed to one of her squadmates getting badly injured. Ella blamed herself. The accident weighed heavily upon her and influenced many of her decisions from that point on.

  Ella actually spent the next two days listening to Io and staying close to home. She needed to figure out how to get out of the city and where to go if things went further south, although she wasn’t sure how that was possible short of her deadbeat father showing up at her door and asking to move in and borrow money. Her fingers itched for a knife every time his memory popped into her head.