I watched each face come up. With each nameless man, my rage grew. A cold, calculating rage that became increasingly hard to contain. Just the thought of them putting Ashi Nogura in a hospital with tubes and IV’s stuck into his body, made my hands shake. As if a beast had awakened within me, roaring for release, demanding justice. It became routine for me to pause every now and again to rein in my self-control. If either of them saw the outward signs of my mental struggle, they never said a word. Soon, both Joey and Markus began listing the faces they recognized. Several hours and many pots of coffee later, we finally had an entire set of pictures labeled. Those we didn’t know were put into a separate file. However, there were three federal agents in the mix that both knew. I had several images of them shaking hands with the high-ranking Nakamura people who were surrounding Cosar at the O-Bon.
I brought all three up on the screen and looked hard at them. “I bet if we got close-up pictures, we’d see the spider tattoo.”
Markus looked at me, then at the pictures again. “They all do,” he said in a low, angry voice. “I’ve seen it, though you’ll have a hard time proving the connection. They’re black ops and no one questions why they do what they do.”
I turned to stare angrily into his eyes. “These men are partially responsible for the death of my step sister, Sara Ashi. They are as much at fault here as the Nakamura clan, Cosar Mentari, and his father. If Cosar were alive, I’d bury him along with the rest of these people.”
Joey spoke up just then, a calm voice of reason in the middle of the tempest storm, “These three men are also guilty of extortion, murder, slavery, torture, and drug trafficking. Not to mention all three enjoy causing pain and not caring who gets hurt in the process.” He closed his eyes. “Should the American government find out about this, they would simply be fired, I think the term is. However, there is a solution for this.”
Markus and I both looked at him expectantly as he elaborated. “The Nakamura clan thinks the most heinous crime in their eyes is the murder of one of their own by another of the same clan. Should sufficient suspicion even remotely point to these men, and with the right amount of prodding from certain anonymous arenas, they would be very... displeased. That is, of course, if the timing can be arranged. Perhaps the pictures could be sent to the appropriate authorities?”
He was looking way too innocent. “Little Father,” I teased him, “you have this look in your eyes. What have you got in mind?”
Markus smiled ferally, “I think we can, arrange, something to the effect.” He grabbed a pad of paper and a pencil and started jotting down notes. “Okay, we’ve got that angle covered. What about the others?”
I clicked on one photo that, in the first few weeks of recovery, had me waking up in a nightmare of screaming until they had to sedate me just to keep me asleep. The one that, even now, brought a fresh rush of adrenaline charged fear and anger. “I want the man that did this.” I growled. “I want the man that tried to kill me, three different times, and failed.”
The picture, one of the last ones taken with the digital, showed Sara’s face starting to melt and burn away. I stared hard at her face, even through the burns, you could still see the bruises and severely battered face. The sight made me look away for a few moments. Suddenly, something in my brain clicked into gear, making me turn back to the photo, and to Cosar’s image. Only when I studied his face, did my blood run as cold as the arctic tundra in wintertime. The bastard was smiling! He had raised a fist to protect his face while he watched my sister die. I backtracked through the pictures to the first hint of explosion, just to see the entire thing from beginning to end for myself, to truly believe what my eye told me. Sure enough, from the first spark, to the last image, he was smiling savagely. Both Joey and Markus saw my reaction and came over to see what set me off. Quickly, I replayed the whole set of pictures, in sequence, for them. Midway through, Cosar got staked. However, when my shaking hand enlarged the picture, it showed the stake sticking out of his back, wobbling like a knife with only it’s tip stuck in a wall. Zooming in on the front of his shirt, the brown paint and hard plastic became clearly visible. Oh, the scorch marks on his clothing were real enough, and the minor burns on his hands and neck, but the rest had been staged.
“Son of a bitch!” My scream of rage blazed its way to the ceiling. “The bastard’s alive!”
Unable to contain my emotions, I stood and stalked over to a wall, putting my face in the corner. “How! Why!” A fine red mist was beginning to cloud the edges of my vision as the rage ate away at my reason. I balled up my left fist and welcomed the flash of pain. “I know you now, asshole. May you tremble and always be looking over your shoulder. Because you will not live to see the coming of the year.” I snarled.
Suddenly, a pair of arms wrapped themselves around my chest from behind. Markus. “Hush. Terri, hush. Relax,” he whispered fiercely in my ear as he held me tight. “Calm. You’ll need to be calm to face what is going to happen.” As he talked, I felt a light touch on the inside of my neck, vaguely hearing a whispered, “Thank you, Joey.” Before darkness closed over me.
Hours? Or minutes later, I awoke to the ringing of a cell phone. After making a mental checklist on the damage factor those two would receive, I reached for the phone. There were only a few people who had this number, and they only called with important news. It took me two tries to get a hand on the phone, but I answered it on the second ring. “Hello?” My Japanese came automatically while my legs came off the bed and onto the floor.
Stephanie’s voice came over the other end. “Yo, girly girl. You’d better wake up and smell the intrigue. You just stirred up a hornet’s nest. Whatever you did caused a feeding frenzy in the spy world!” She sounded elated and I had a feeling why. Anything dealing with the government, be it cover-ups, spy games, assassinations, or conspiracy theories, her magazine usually got to it first.
Staggering out to the front of the shop, I found both men sipping coffee and acting like nothing had happened. Though the halos they wore had a slight tilt to one side, dangling off the horns. I turned my attention back into English. “Talk, Stephanie. What am I supposedly to have done?” All the while, staring hard at both men.
“According to my sources in the CIA, three of their top operatives have disappeared off the face of the earth! There’s a massive hunt for them by both the Yakuza and their own people. Apparently all three were involved in five torture murders involving at least two high ranking Nakamura clan leaders,” Stephanie said seriously
I glared hard at Markus. Hard enough to burn holes in him. “And the CIA?”
“Photos were taken of them accepting bribes and handouts from various and sundry underworld figures, including the Russian Mafia, the Mexicans, the Koreans, and the Chinese. The CIA is particularly interested in their downtime activities. Seems our bright boys were paid to be breakers for the local slave trade. They’d get the wild ones and when they were done with em, they’d be ready to sell to the brothels or the highest bidder.” She couldn’t keep the disgust out of her voice.
“And well they should be missing.” I growled, “If I know the Nakamura clan, they won’t be lenient. Betrayal isn’t tolerated in that organization. I have it on good advice.” I paused, “Stephanie, I want you to listen to me very closely. Where is Stephen Mentari? And where is his son buried?”
“What’s wrong? Are you in some kind of trouble?”
“I’m not, but I can’t guarantee the same for Stephen or Cosar. He’s alive, Steph. And if you don’t watch your back, he may come after you. He faked his own death with the help of several people. I’m assuming eight of those people are now paying the piper.” I looked at Joey, who calmly sipped his tea. “I have to go. You take a vacation and stay low until this is all over. There is some business that needs to be taken care of.” I hung up before she could ask any more questions. I looked back at Joey first. “Why?”
“You were in no condition to do this. The ball had been rolling for some months in vario
us areas of government. The Shadow Demon and I merely supplied the influence and the evidence to put the pieces together,” he sighed. “The only two people left for you to go and take care of are the ones responsible for your sister’s death. That, Amaterasu has decreed, you have to do yourself. Blood debt.”
I turned to Markus and crooked my finger at him. Warily, he stood up and came to stand in front of me. “Did you hold me to comfort me, or to distract me so Joey could drug me?”
He opened his mouth to answer, and my fist sent him flying backwards over his chair to crash to the floor near the welcome mat. “Don’t you ever do anything like that again to me, Markus! Ever!” My voice shook with anger. “If I’m ever in that state of mind again, let me deal with it my own way. If you want to hold me, fine. But if anyone pulls that shit with me again, I won’t be responsible for my actions.” With that, I turned and stalked down the hall to my room. As I did, the phone rang again.
“Stephen is in Japan for some odd reason. In the Nakamura compound no less!” Stephanie sounded as astonished as I did. Such a move could ruin the Mentari reputation and their status in the States. “There’s already talk around the higher social order.”
I grinned ferally as my door shut behind me. “Make sure they know exactly what kind of scum he’s been sleeping with, Steph. Him and Cosar are directly responsible for Sara’s death. Cosar set the bombs that tried to kill me, and almost got me the second time if it hadn’t been for Nogura. He’s not going to get away with this. I swear it. Now let me go. If you can do anything to shake the crap loose so that it falls into the right fertile ground, you’ll be doing me a big favor.”
I heard the laughter in her voice. “Oh I’m sure I can sling it. Rachel is always the one to circulate in the major social rings. And she’s a horrible gossip when she wants to be.”
I sighed. “You be careful. We’re stepping on some major toes now and they might be attached to something with pretty big teeth. And please, keep Nogura’s name and his clan name out of this. I
made them a promise.”
She sighed. “Okay, but you owe me one. Samhain ritual at my ranch will be your payment.”
I laughed. “You got it. Now let me go.”
“Be careful, girl. You’re doing South for the ritual,” she chuckled mischievously, then hung up. Leaving me wondering, vaguely, just what in hell I had agreed to.
I set the phone off to one side after turning it off. Four things came out of my duffle. Things that Nogura sent home with me, but I’d never looked at, until now. Tabi shoes, a pair of drawstring pants in a dark gray color, and a tank top in black. A black bomber jacket finished the wardrobe. I stripped off all my clothes, turned off the lights, and knelt in the dark. Slowly my mind emptied of all thoughts, all emotions. Time ceased to be, life seemed to stop and the emptiness remained the stygian darkness at the beginning and end of all time. A moment later, a pinpoint of light formed in front of me. Growing into a beautiful woman that knelt in front of me. I bowed formally in respect to her and she returned the bow, matching me movement for movement.
“You are to collect the debt owed to your sister’s spirit?”
I nodded, “I am. Do I have your blessing, Goddess?”
She smiled sadly, “You know you do, Terr, but remember to think with a clear head. Emotions have no place in combat. If you do this, you will do it alone. The Shadow Demon and Joey Shin cannot help you. They can only prepare you and get you to your destination. Are you willing to accept this?”
“I am, Goddess.” My eye looked into hers, “I have no illusions as to my own mortality, unusual though it may seem. I seek only justice for my sister and for my father.”
She laid a hand on my head. “Then you are truly Ashi Nogura’s daughter. May the sun shine brightly on your day of reckoning and the fight be true and honest.” She looked on the bed. “You are not yet a Master of the sword. Yet, I sense you know knives. Therefore, you shall have them,” She grinned. “Now go and restore the honor of the Ashi and Montegard names.” With that, She faded from view.
Darkness returned to the room as I rubbed the circulation back into my legs. After the pins and needles went away enough for me to stand, my hand went to the light switch while my gaze went to the bed. There, neatly folded, a dark gray kimono had been placed next to my regular clothes. Cherry blossoms and a bat were embroidered on the kimono. Not a woman’s kimono either. My pants and tank top remained, but they seemed newer, almost as if my battle armor had been transformed to brand new garments from the inside out. The truly stunning part was the knives. Somehow, the Tanto had grown two feet long, with a twin lying next to it on my bed. Both had the inlayed crane scabbards and the traditional braided handles. The true shock came when the blade came partway out of its sheath to inspect the makers mark. “No.” I slid the blade home. No, I thought, I did not see Miyamoto Musashi’s watermark on that blade. That’s impossible!
A hint of laughter in my head. “Not impossible. Just a little convincing of the right people.”
Shaking my head, I neatly folded everything, set them on a nearby table and lit some incense. Gathering a bathrobe around me, I went back to the front room where they both waited for me. The look on Markus’s face told me he had heard the conversation that took place in my room. I had to look away. “Umm, guys?”
Joey took one look at both of us then said, “I have a date tonight at Koshimi’s restaurant. Don’t wait up.” And left before we could say anything else.
Markus took a step towards me and I mirrored his movements. We kept moving closer until we stood face to face. The spot where my fist connected had begun to swell and a bruise began to blossom on his chin. As I reached up to trace the discoloration, he grabbed my hand, gently placing a kiss on my palm. My breath caught in my throat as his lips worked their way down to my wrist. His other hand moved around my waist to pull me even closer. Slowly, his lips kissed, licked and caressed their way up my arm. Liquid fire held me immobile, making the physical reaction more powerful. When he got to my neck, he placed his hands on either side of my face, framing it. “I’m sorry.” Came a soft whisper of apology.
I leaned forward to taste his lips. “I, too, am sorry. I didn’t mean to…” Our lips touched once again, cutting off all explanations. My hands found his hair for real this time. Not a dream.
He groaned and scooped me up in his arms, quickly moving down the hall. Down to the end where a cloud of steam wafted out to greet us from the doorway and into the bathroom with blue and green tiles except for the ceiling. Taking up half the room a huge sunken tub full of steaming hot water. The other half turned out to be water faucets, soap, and towels. As my gaze wandered around the room, my mouth found the sensitive spot just below his ear, eliciting a moan of desire from him. My hands found the bottom of his t-shirt and ripped outwards. The force of the yanking tore the fabric from bottom to top, leaving a swath of bare flesh to explore while Markus had his hands full carrying me. Impatiently, he set me down on the floor near one of the faucets before he shed the ruined shirt and pants. If there had been any underwear, I never saw it. My hands went to the knot on the robe, slowly it slid it off my shoulders, letting the silk caress my body until it pooled on the floor in a pile of silk. Only then did I slowly turn to walk over to him to stand, inches away from his body.
Dream and reality melded as I reached out to wrap my hand around him, to feel the satiny skin and pulsing heat. At my touch, his cock became rigid steel in my hand. Tensing, he reached over to place his hand on my chest, then slowly moved down to tease a nipple to rock hard attention. To prolong our torture, Markus silently turned to pick up a washcloth and soap. Turning on a faucet to get water at a nice warm temperature, he began to slowly wash me from head to toe. In return, I ran my hands over him, memorizing each line of his body, each curve of his muscle tone. Every scar. Oh yes, there were scars even though his dream self didn’t. Moaning he stood up straight again and captured my lips with his own, delving deep into my mouth to claim dominanc
e. Taking the soap and washcloth without breaking the kiss, I slowly began to return the favor by washing him from head to toe, forcing him to come up for air while moaning. My mind short-circuited as I reached around with both hands to wash his back while running my fingernails up and down his skin, eliciting a groan of pure lust from him.
He pulled back as I washed his chest, abdomen, and lower, tantalizing him with my thoroughness. “Woman, you’d better hurry,” he choked. “Otherwise I may not survive it.”
I laughed, low and husky. “You’re not the only one who won’t survive.” I picked up the water dipper, slowly rinsing us both.
Growling, Markus took the dipper from my hand and threw it across the room. Turning me around to bend me over the sink area, he thrust deeply. The size of his cock stretched me, it‘s length sought out every secret place in my body. Crying out in pleasure at the sensation, an orgasm ripped across my consciousness at the third, hard thrust. My body arched back and my hands gripped the cool porcelain to keep me from flying away. To hold me in place, he leaned forward to kiss and lick my shoulder. At the molten touch of his lips, I reached back to caress his hair, neck, anything my hand could reach. Looking up, my gaze caught, and held his, in the mirror as our bodies moved in a rhythm old as time. Making a promise to myself that, if I died, this would be the last image my mind would see. That thought made this moment incredibly special as all my emotions were in my eye for him to see as we sweated and writhed in the heat of the moment. He pulled out and turned me around so my back was against the wall, lifting me so my legs wrapped around his waist, then thrust back in as hard as he could. My whimpering moans seemed only to spur him on to thrust harder.
Diane Taylor - [The Montegard Files] Page 14