by Mark McKay
Katsu Oyama was still in England and intended to stay for the foreseeable future. He would continue to make swords, but Nick thought it unlikely that he would take on another apprentice after his experience with Shauna. And he was still on high alert for a possible assassination attempt, as were Nick and Mariko. Nick hadn’t left the retreat centre in the week he’d been here and he carried his gun with him everywhere. Even an innocent walk through the woods was a risk, but he wasn’t going to be intimidated to the point where the activities of everyday life were no longer an option. He didn’t think Yamada would be stupid enough to send people here a second time. The security men were certain the place wasn’t being watched and had kept a zealous eye on it in the time Mariko had been away. Chances were, Yamada didn’t even know they were here.
He’d expected Mariko to be back late that evening, but she called him in the afternoon.
‘Any news?’ he asked.
‘You’re speaking to the new head of the Crimson Dragon Society,’ she said. Her pride in the appointment was clearly audible.
‘Congratulations. Are you coming back tonight? We should celebrate.’
‘No, I want you to come to Tokyo, soon as you can.’
‘Is there something wrong?’
She laughed, a little breathlessly. ‘Nothing wrong. As part of my appointment I got approval to take care of a certain domestic problem. I want you to bring a few things with you, and then we are going somewhere.’
‘Is this business or pleasure?’
‘Neither, really. Just personal. Now here is what I want you to bring.’
She gave him the details. When he hung up, he knew that tonight was very personal indeed.
The Azabu district of Tokyo is home to the more well-heeled members of Japanese society. That evening, Nick and Mariko were standing looking at a ten-foot-high wall that separated one of those members from the rabble outside. It was a concrete wall, topped with sharp steel spikes.
They were dressed completely in black and had harnesses and ropes with a pulley system. The ropes were attached to a mountain climber’s spike, which you could shoot into the wall using a compressed-air gun. Two of these spikes were now protruding from the wall, about a foot from the top of it. Mariko was in her harness and had a pack containing everything she needed on her back. She pressed a button on the harness and began to walk up the wall with help from the hydraulic pulley system. The spikes at the top would be the problem, but not an insurmountable one. They were pointed like the spears of an iron-railing fence and when she got to them she paused. She was able to take a sighting at whatever lay beyond, and then seemingly satisfied with what she saw, she stood up and deftly stepped over the spikes. A second later, she was on her way down the other side. Nick followed and he was grateful for the hydraulics. He didn’t think his arm and shoulder would take the strain if he had to climb without the support they offered. He carefully negotiated the spikes and then a few seconds later he was standing with Mariko, looking at the sight in front of them.
They were in a large estate, dotted with cherry and poplar trees. A well-manicured lawn stretched ahead of them towards the house, which was a two storey modern rambling construction in the Bauhaus style, with white stone walls and long terraces and plenty of glass. There were lights on inside the house, but from here they couldn’t see anyone. In the garden below, some unseen lighting was directed upwards to illuminate the exterior of the building and highlight the architecture. The house was bathed in a soft, white glow. They were about 150 yards away and there were enough trees nearby to give them cover.
‘I want to get a bit closer,’ said Mariko.
They left the ropes where they were and made their way to a tree some twenty yards closer to the house.
‘This will do,’ she said.
She checked her watch. It was 9.55pm.
‘Let’s hope he’s a creature of habit,’ said Nick.
They waited. The grounds were silent and it seemed nobody patrolled them. That meant either they were sloppy or they were feeling safe. Mariko began to assemble the contents of the pack on the ground in front of her. She held up the titanium rod and pressed a little button, and the extension rods emerged, one after the other from both ends, until they formed the shape of a bow, six feet long. She attached the bow-string. Two arrows were on the grass, beside her. She closed her eyes and began to focus on the task ahead.
Nick kept watch. Five minutes later, a figure emerged from a glass sliding door and stepped on to the terrace. Nick picked up his binoculars and took a look. The man wore a beautifully tailored suit with a yellow tie, loosened at the neck. He was carrying some extra weight, but he was tall, and the combination of height and good tailoring meant he still cut a stylish figure. The face was smooth and good-looking, with a touch of arrogance. He had a drink of something which could have been whisky in a cut-glass tumbler in one hand, and a cigar in the other. He came to the edge of the terrace and looked out into the night.
Nick remembered another night not so long ago, when he’d come here to attend a party. He’d been standing on that same terrace with a lovely woman. She had invited him along as her guest, so he could meet this man. A few days later, she had been murdered for that indiscretion.
‘He’s here,’ Nick whispered.
Mariko opened her eyes. She looked at Nick and then transferred her attention to the man on the terrace. She didn’t say anything, just stood up with the bow and placed an arrow on the string. She had to step out from the shelter of the tree, but from this distance it would be pure chance if the man up there spotted her. She fitted her arrow, drew back the bow-string and stood there with her eyes closed. She must have been like that for all of five seconds, and then she opened her eyes and released the arrow.
It was a still evening. There was a slight rush of air as the arrow left the string and then Nick could see it arc high above the terrace. He thought she’d overdone it. But then it straightened up and plunged downwards at speed. He doubted that Takashi Yamada ever saw it coming. Both the glass and the cigar dropped from his hands and he clutched them to his chest. The arrow had gone in just below the breastbone and as Nick looked through the binoculars he knew he’d just witnessed a remarkable feat of archery. He couldn’t tell from here if the arrow had gone all the way through Yamada, but if it hadn’t and by some miracle it hadn’t penetrated his heart or any other vital organ, it didn’t matter. There was enough curare on the tip to ensure that the billionaire who’d killed Yoshi Mashida would soon be joining him in the world beyond this one. Yamada collapsed to the ground and Nick was sure the shot was a lethal one.
‘You got him,’ he told Mariko. ‘In the heart, I think. Now let’s go.’
‘Good.’ She collapsed the bow and packed it up again. They didn’t waste any time in leaving; there might be no one patrolling the grounds now, but if Yamada was found in the next five minutes the place would be swarming with retainers, looking for his killer. They got up and over the wall quick as they could and disconnected the ropes. The two mountaineering spikes would have to stay where they were, they had no way of getting those out. They jogged back to the car they’d parked earlier in a side street, and drove away.
It was about three hours by car from Tokyo to Kiyosato. It had been overcast this evening, but as they got out of Tokyo the clouds began to clear and a full moon appeared. Half an hour later the clouds had nearly gone and the moon was wearing a bright white halo.
‘Ice crystals in the atmosphere,’ said Nick. ‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’
Mariko smiled at him. ‘Yes, it is.’
She was driving. He looked at the profile of this enigmatic woman and remembered that she had told him she loved him. He’d forgotten to tell her that he loved her, too. She looked quietly content and he knew a burden had been lifted, an obligation fulfilled.
‘They say revenge is a dish best served cold,’ he said.
She glanced at him. ‘I disagree. If we’d served it
earlier, my father would still be here.’ She put her eyes back on the road. ‘Still, serving it cold is better than not serving it at all.’
They drove on for a while in silence.
‘What about the future?’ he asked. ‘What will we do now?’
‘You mean with the Crimson Dragon Society? I have plenty to do.’
‘No, I meant us.’
He could see a hint of a smile. ‘What do you think we should do?’ she asked.
‘We should get married.’
‘I see.’ The smile was broader, now.
‘Is that a yes or a no?’
‘How do you feel about working for your wife? It’s not very Japanese.’
He laughed. ‘I’m not very Japanese.’
‘I will marry you, Nick. But remember, when we’ve had three children and I’m fat and unattractive, don’t think about finding another woman, like so many Japanese men do.’
‘Why ever not?’
‘Because I’ll poison you and feed you to the dogs. Would you like to reconsider that proposal, now?’
That gave him pause for thought. They drove up into the highlands, her laughter echoing in his ears.