“If we stay, they’ll find us. We have to go.” Max kept a loose grip on her upper arm as they edged forward along the side of the building. Her sobs grew more controlled. Peering around the corner, he saw the back of their SUV parked ten paces past the sliding glass door. “If we make a run for it, we can get past the front door, into the car.”
Edging out farther, he spotted the roof of a van parked at the far end of the sloping U-shaped driveway. “Damn it! They’ve blocked the best exit! And I’ll bet that second guy is waiting in the van.”
Max’s foot bumped against a fist-sized rock in the flowerbed, and he paused briefly before glancing back at Tomoko’s tortured expression. “I have an idea. How good is your throwing arm?”
HIRO ADJUSTED his silver aviator sunglasses, then went back to methodically clenching and releasing his fists while pacing on the patio just back from the Izu hillside. It was clear that Jun loved being in charge—he’d been almost gleeful when snapping instructions.
Hiro turned to glance across the clear blue water of the onsen’s outdoor hot pool. He could see Jun in the lobby, pacing before the reception counter, keeping an eye on the front door while gruffly informing the startled hotel patrons that the pool was closed for cleaning.
The lobby’s rear glass doors were propped wide open, leading into the ornate back garden with its carefully tended flowers and sculptured shrubs. The hotel owner had obviously been a gardener who loved her plants, and he felt sick thinking of her lifeless body now lying in the side office.
My father was a gang member his whole life and he never killed. This is not how it’s supposed to be. The ancient principles of machi-yakko instruct us to help the weak and oppose the strong . . . not murder them.
Mrs. Kanazawa had steadfastly refused to divulge any guest information to Jun. Standing defiantly behind her office desk, she was tough as nails, her resolve unflinching. Finally making good on her threat to call the police, she reached for the office phone. But the Surujin flew with incredible speed, and the chubby woman had time to dial only a single number before the chain’s weighted end wrapped around her neck, pulling her forward onto the desktop. A slash across her throat from the razor-sharp knife ended the discussion.
We’ve become like masterless samurai, nothing more than common criminals.
The beach below appeared empty. Hiro secretly wished the American wouldn’t show up. It was Jun’s turn to look the part of the fool. And it also meant that Tomoko wouldn’t come to harm. Her lovely face was etched in Hiro’s memory, as if he were still holding her picture in his hands.
Suddenly from behind came the crash of splintering glass. The burst of sound sent Hiro racing toward the lobby. Dashing along the pool’s curving rim, he looked forward and glimpsed a lone figure streaking past the front of the hotel. Scrambling up and into the lobby, Hiro glanced to his left. Jun was charging from the office, holding a rock.
The air filled with the sound of a roaring engine.
Hiro grappled with the handle of the sliding door, finally wrenching it open just as a silver SUV shot past, heading toward the driveway entrance. From behind, he felt two fists hammer him in the back, sending him sprawling onto the stone walkway, as Jun raced past on an interception course.
The SUV slowed near the azaleas, and the passenger’s side door flew open. Lying on the ground, Hiro stared as Tomoko’s slender figure come to life. She dashed from the building’s corner, her long black hair billowing as she dived inside the vehicle. The tires squealed, filling the air with smoky gray residue and the smell of burning rubber.
Jun’s charging grunt became a hysterical shriek to stop. “Yamete!” He leaped forward and slammed into the vehicle’s side. His hands clawed at the air before finally grasping the roof rack, and he jammed a foot into the closing door.
Bucking wildly, the SUV plowed over the driveway’s curb and pressed hard against the shrubs. The thorny bushes became an army of tiny swords. Jun’s guttural screams filled the air as the branches slashed at his face and arms, finally knocking him from his slender perch. Hiro watched him slam onto the driveway’s hardtop, somersaulting him into a sprawling pose, where he lay still. The SUV bounced from the driveway into the street and made a sharp turn before disappearing from sight.
“Opposite side of the road, Max! Drive on the left side!” Tomoko grabbed at the steering wheel while the fishtailing vehicle tore into the right lane. An oncoming delivery truck blasted its horn, then careened onto the sidewalk to avoid a head-on collision.
“Woah! Shit!” Max felt wild with fear. His eyes flicked from the road to Tomoko to the rear-view mirror and back again. His heart was racing, and his neck was as tight as piano wires. But he was pumped with exhilaration. They’d made it.
Tomoko turned to stare out the back window and her voice shook. “Are they following?”
The approaching traffic light changed to red. In front, a single mid-size sedan sat idling, its signal light blinking yellow in methodical rhythm. Heavy cross traffic flowed through the exchange. It seemed like far too many cars for a weekday lunch hour.
Max slowed the vehicle and glanced anxiously over his shoulder. “I can’t see them, but they don’t give up easily. You should put on your seatbelt.” He drummed both hands on the steering wheel. Tomoko remained half turned in her seat. The traffic light was staying red far too long. The seconds dragged by, and when Max heard Tomoko gasp, he didn’t bother looking back. Instinctively, he slammed the vehicle into a short reverse before executing a forward arc around the waiting sedan. Glancing briefly to the right, he prayed for the best and jammed hard on the accelerator, causing the SUV to jump forward into the crossroad. Horns blared as cars swerved and skidded.
The SUV raced along with the traffic. Weaving wildly back and forth, Max surged into the oncoming lane repeatedly and pushed forward one car-length at a time. Shocked drivers shook their fists in protest. Minutes ticked by while they wove an erratic path northward.
The congestion increased, the traffic flow slowing before finally grinding to a stop.
“This is bad.” Tomoko’s words broke Max’s concentration. “We’re heading into the town center. We need to go west. Away from the city.” The traffic inched forward.
“I’ll try, but we’re not going anywhere in a hurry.” Max glanced into the left-side mirror. His heart stuck in his throat. Thick Neck was on foot, charging toward them. The man’s grim face wore a mask of determination, and his massive bulk swayed left and right while he pushed pedestrians aside. He was only seconds away. Throwing the gearshift into reverse, Max crushed the bumper on the car behind.
Tomoko shrieked as the SUV shot forward onto the sidewalk. “What are you doing?”
“Surviving!” Max shouted, “Put on your seatbelt!” He pressed repeatedly on the horn as they flew along the sidewalk. Two startled teenagers stood in front, frozen like deer in the headlights. At the last second, Max jammed the racing vehicle to the left, within inches of a wrought-iron fence. Glass and plastic exploded as the passenger’s side mirror blew into a million pieces, but they managed to narrowly miss the gawking teens.
Max leaned on the squawking horn. A construction site lay fifty yards down the road, but directly ahead, on the sidewalk, sat a vendor. Tomoko screamed. The gesturing owner finally abandoned his post by dashing into the street. The food stand was no match for the charging vehicle. The square aluminum frame molded to the shape of the bumper before the cart was tossed high into the air, slamming down onto the hood of a nearby taxi. Yakisoba filled the sky and drenched the area in sweet noodles and syrupy brown sauce.
Max groped for the wiper switch as he swerved to avoid a collision with a telephone pole. The slender spray of washer fluid fought against the brown sludge on the windshield. Fear had now changed to sheer terror. The heavy fence they were racing beside could easily shred the SUV.
Sidewalk changed to gravel as they neared the entrance to a construction site on the left. Max wrenched the wheel sharply, sending them into a
sliding skid.
Max fought hard to regain control. The cab bucked and bounced over the uneven earth. Weaving to avoid the construction workers made it impossible to see anything in the rearview mirror. Beside him, Tomoko appeared apoplectic, but there was no time to console her now. His foot jammed the gas pedal with certainty. The Yakuza weren’t likely to give up just to avoid a traffic ticket. And he was sure they were close behind, marking the same erratic path.
He shouted and waved frantically. “Outta the way!”
The bully on the playground wasn’t just wielding his fists. This time around, death was being dealt. Kazue Saito and Mrs. Kanazawa had underestimated the threat, and it had cost them their lives. Max was resolute that he wouldn’t make the same mistake.
The police dispatcher’s sweaty fingers pressed the button at the microphone’s base. An SUV was racing northward toward Odawara, with a gray van in hot pursuit. The call for police support was confirmed by two black-and-whites. The first patrol car was in the area, while a second car, in the Hakone Mountains to the west, made a southern approach along a winding country road.
The SUV burst through a metal fence and bounced into the adjoining road. A trail of torn earth, shattered equipment, and stunned victims lay strewn behind. The van was hot on the SUV’s trail, having managed to gain ground.
Simultaneously weaving along the narrow hillside roads, the two nearly conjoined vehicles dodged bicycles and pedestrians. Bewildered citizens stared on as the screaming vehicles raced by on the normally tranquil roads.
The sing-song rhythms of a lone siren grew louder as the first police car finally caught the charging drag-racers—the two license plate numbers now surely being radioed by dispatch.
The van pulled into the oncoming lane and began hammering the SUV’s right side, sending it dangerously close to the road’s cliffside edge. Max held a vicelike grip on the steering wheel, struggling to maintain his vehicle’s tenuous position. Metal panels screeched and twisted against the violent blows and counter-blows.
The battling vehicles crested a small hilltop above a four-way stop, the van riding the center line as it pushed the SUV precariously close to the roadside ditch. Ahead, a second police car blocked the middle of the intersection. Unable to change course, the van T-boned the police car, causing both vehicles to spin wildly. Shattered glass filled the air, raining down like crystal hail.
Max stabilized the swerving SUV and climbed the rising road. In the rear-view mirror, he watched the sliding van come to rest down an embankment at the same time as the first police car crested the hilltop. Next to him, Tomoko twisted backward in her seat, a look of horror painted on her face as the black-and-white vehicle tore into the already shattered remains of its sister car before flipping onto its roof.
The road through the forest ahead wound up into the Hakone Mountains. A cover of trees and houses flickered past and soon the roadside carnage disappeared from sight. It was impossible to tell if the gray van had started moving again.
Max’s anxious voice filled the cab. “Are they following?”
Tomoko’s response was fractured. “I . . . I don’t know . . . but the police . . . must be hurt. We should . . . go back.” She kept staring out the rear window.
“No way! Those Yakuza are probably just shaken up.” He pointed to the daypack lying at her feet. “Use Mr. M’s cell phone to call for help. Then turn it off again.” Max could tell she was taken aback by his response, and he pulled his attention from the twisting forest road. “Listen to me. These guys aren’t playing a game. They won’t just threaten us. And we’re not gonna die like Mrs. Kanazawa. We’re not gonna die!”
THE ARSENIC-GRAY limousine sat idling in the empty parking lot. Exhaust fumes puffed from its tailpipe and dissipated into the early morning air. Senator Andrew McCloy bit on the end of his pipe as he stared out the window at the barren park. Spring would arrive soon and with it the muggy warmth of a D.C. summer. He actually liked the cold weather. It was a nice change from the year-round Florida heat he had come to endure. But his wife loved the constant sunshine; it helped with her arthritis.
A dark blue Lincoln town car drifted into sight on the adjacent road, and he watched as a familiar heavyset man exited from the back. Even though both vehicles were registered to legitimate businesses, he knew that Ray Hylan would never risk any unfriendly eyes associating the two license plates. His covert Black Pearl Operations was quietly sheltered in a nondescript Washington office complex, and he would want to keep it that way.
Ray spoke to his driver before turning to walk the twenty yards toward the waiting limo. The April wind whipped his thinning auburn hair as it gusted between leafless beech trees and across the brown grass of the nearby field.
At the limo’s rear, a tinted back window slid halfway down. “Go round the other side,” the senator said.
Dissatisfaction was clearly stamped on Ray’s face, and as he climbed inside he commented. “Stale tobacco and Old Spice. Two things I’d rather not smell so early in the morning.”
“Hello Ray. How are you?” the senator said, unmoved by the jab.
“I’m good, Andy, and yourself?”
Smoke drifted from the senator’s mouth. “Don’t be smart. You know not to call me that.”
Ray appeared to stifle a homerun grin. “My apologies, Andrew. I forgot how much you dislike the informal.”
“With your I.Q., I doubt you forget anything, except your manners.” He shook the polished walnut pipe with the three fingers on his left hand that had survived his military tour in Korea.
“I see you’ve switched off cigarettes. Was that by choice?”
The senator stifled a laugh. “Sylvia’s been on my case for the last four decades to quit smoking. She’s like a moth buzzing round the same porch light.” All the years in Washington couldn’t remove the Tennessee twang from his voice, try as he might. “I finally agreed to smoke this damned thing. But it just isn’t like a good old pack of Marlboros.”
“Please give my best to Sylvia.”
“You know I won’t be talking to her about this meeting,” the senator chided.
“Fine, then let’s dispense with the pleasantries and get to the point. What’s with all the extra secrecy? Why are we meeting here?”
Andrew tapped his pipe on the door handle. “It’s a bit of a bombshell, really. Lloyd Elgin called.” He glanced up to enjoy what he hoped was a shocked reaction.
“You’re kidding me!” The Black Pearl leader sat a little straighter. “When? What did he say?”
“Not much, really. Just that he received a call from a concerned friend in Tokyo about the murder of a Japanese diplomat and a suspicious office break-in. He made a few inquiries and thought it warranted a visit. He left for Japan a few hours ago.”
Ray attempted to force a calm façade, but for all his skill in espionage the man had a lousy poker face. “I never honestly thought you’d get another call, especially after such a long silence.”
“Eighteen years, to be exact.”
“Let me have my folks check it out.”
“No! Absolutely not. Lloyd can handle it quietly and discreetly. I don’t need a bunch of your operatives stumbling around, drawing attention to something that may prove to be nothing. The last thing I need is the Japanese authorities starting an investigation.”
“How can you be sure your guy can handle it? Who is he?”
“What would his real name mean, anyway? Suffice it to say I was lucky when I found him a decade ago. He’s highly trained and completely ruthless.”
“Andrew, if you don’t let me follow up and your guy gets into trouble, there’s no guarantee I can help.”
The senator flicked his pipe in the air. “Bullshit! When Congress doesn’t funnel you the money for all your private military firms and dirty little operations, who do you come running to? Me! You’ll help out when I ask, or you’ll find yourself hung out to dry.”
Ray’s face reddened and although he didn’t speak the words,
it was clear what he was thinking—it’s time for you to retire, old man, and let someone else take over The Enterprise. “Don’t kid a kidder, Andrew. You know the history of all this, what it started out as and what it’s now become. You’re too damn patriotic for that.”
The two power brokers locked eyes.
Ray continued, “Besides, you of all people know the Cold War isn’t over. It’s just changed form. We do the work that nobody else wants to handle. The Black Eagle Trust and the other funds give us the means to battle dozens of private terrorist armies. Nobody has to declare war on the U.S., but they can attack us all the same, then we look like assholes when the government retaliates and fights back.”
“My point exactly. If the money is so valuable to your cause, then you’ll give me help—if and when I need it. Should Lloyd discover something that could be dangerous to us both, he’ll do his best to put a lid on it, by any means necessary.” The senator drew out the last part of the sentence before raising a single eyebrow. ”If he can’t handle it alone, that’s when I’ll get back in touch with you.”
The veins in Ray’s neck looked ready to pop. “I won’t make any guarantees, but I’ll try.”
Andrew McCloy offered a good-old-boy smile. “That’s all I’m asking for―just a little cooperation and reciprocity.”
“What about the rest of the Enterprise council?”
“I’ll let each one know by day’s end.
Ray buttoned his coat. “You’re playing with fire, Andrew. I hope your lone wolf can handle it.”
“I believe he can.”
“He’d better pull it off, because there’s a helluva lot at risk here. If the flow of funds is affected at the same time as the damn bleeding-heart liberals cut the military budget, I can’t imagine the chaos.” Climbing back out into the cool morning air, Ray leaned in and took his final shot. “The president would go insane.”
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