Then there she was, chalk-colored but clearly alive.
But the smaller Yakuza was holding her hands, keeping her captive. Max sprang at the man, who responded with ferocious speed, and before he could blink Max found himself pinned.
Between hacking coughs, Tomoko barked at them to stop as she pulled her hands free. She grabbed the Yakuza’s shoulder, and Max’s mind reeled with confusion as he watched the battered man obey her command and move back.
Max rose to his feet and pulled her close, feeling her hesitate before squeezing hard in return. The painful splendor of the moment flooded his senses as he kissed her perfect dusty lips and her tears spilled down, mixing with dirt and running onto his cheeks. But there was no time. Gunfire and the clapping flash of another grenade brought them instantly back to the moment.
“We need to go.” He squeezed her hand and pulled. Together, they staggered through the fog in what he hoped was the right direction.
To his amazement, the barricade at the cliff’s edge appeared and then the distant rolling sea. Night was falling fast. The last rays of sunlight cut shimmering lines across the rolling water. The clear air was fighting a back-and-forth battle with the manmade fog.
Looking back, Max saw that Tomoko was holding the injured Yakuza’s sleeve, pulling him along like a bloody, unwilling accomplice. “What are you doing?” He shouted, making no effort to hide his shock and anger.
“Hiro’s not evil. I can explain—” Tomoko’s partially finished sentence twisted in terror as a scream replaced her words.
Max turned to follow her horrified gaze. From the barricades’ opposite end, out of the smoke, Thick Neck’s bald head came fully into view. His lips twisted into a demonic grin as the rest of his massive bulk followed. Flexing his hands with anticipation, he moved calmly beside the clifftop barrier. Max edged backward keeping Tomoko sheltered behind him. His eyes flicked around wildly, hoping for a miracle, but the only two places to go were toward the smoky gunfire or over the steep cliff’s edge.
Positioned at the back of the group, Hiro leaned into Tomoko’s ear, speaking so that only she could hear the words. “You were right that I need to show courage. Now save yourself.” Hearing the calm in his voice she felt a swell of panic as she tightened her grip, knowing what he was about to do. “No!” But his sleeve slipped from her grasp as he charged from behind, throwing himself at his former apprentice.
“Noooooooo!” Her scream rang out while Max struggled to block her from joining the uneven battle. The vicelike grip of Jun’s massive hands clamped around Hiro’s neck and lifted him into the air, his legs thrashing as his fists swung wildly at his opponent’s face.
The huge arms flexed and twisted, followed by the sickening crackle of bone— and the kicking ceased almost instantly. Distant machine-gun fire masked the body’s fall to the ground as she watched the open, lifeless eyes staring skyward.
LOST IN a private world of self-pity, Yoko wandered down the bare service hallway toward the exit at the end. She barely noticed when the rain-soaked wind yanked the rooftop door from her hands, slamming it violently against the building’s exterior.
Forty stories below, the twinkling lights of Tokyo made her dizzy, and she caught her breath. It was almost enough to make her change her mind, but she knew this was the only option left, and she hoped it wouldn’t be painful. Reaching into her handbag, she clutched her cell phone. A finger hovered over the speed-dial button while cold, wet spray swirled in from outside.
Her mind flew back to the moment she’d stepped on the plane bound for America. That day, so many decades ago, had also been rainy and cold. Was it an omen of things to come? If only she’d never gone to Dallas, but had instead turned and run for the safety of home. It was the wish for a larger life—a world filled with excitement and glamor—that had been her undoing. She’d tried her best, but the deception and negligence of others had ultimately doomed her. She’d worked to build a good life, but instead had fallen victim to unfair people and unjust circumstances. It wasn’t her fault.
Lifting the phone to her ear, she waited until Masami Ishi’s voicemail asked her to leave a message. The tone of her voice conveyed her unreserved hatred. “The game is over, Masami-kun. You’ve lost again, and the only prize you’ll be receiving is the recording I took of you and me speaking in my office. The video has been delivered to the National Public Safety Commission. I think they’ll be very interested in the evidence of your illegal activities. Good luck with your retirement. You may not need as much money as you expected.” She powered down the phone.
Water was pooling in the gravel on the sidewalk-wide ledge; it splashed as she stepped outside. Raindrops bit at her exposed cheeks and soaked into her Chanel suit. She edged sideways with her back pressed against the building’s exterior. Fear suddenly overwhelmed her, and she considered turning back. But the wind grabbed the door, slamming it shut, locking her onto the ledge.
It was surely a fateful sign.
Her last hope was that Max felt badly for his betrayal. Closing her eyes she leaned forward, dropping like a dark meteor toward the thick shrubs at the building’s base. This was usually the moment when she would stir in bed and the nightmare would abruptly end, but this time it was real, and there would be no awakening.
DRUNK WITH power, Thick Neck stepped over Hiro’s shattered body while slipping the Surujin chain from a pocket and began to spin it, slowly at first, but then with increasing speed.
Half standing, half crouching, clutching a broad stick he had found in one hand, Max braced for the inevitability of the moment. He heard himself shouting to Tomoko, “Run!” But the sobbing noise behind him wasn’t moving. He wanted to turn and hold her, to relieve her incomprehensible pain, but he knew he didn’t dare break his concentration. Thick Neck seemed to be reveling in the moment, savoring the attack. The chain whistled as it picked up speed.
The deadly weighted end shot forward. Max ducked his head while striking violently upward with the stick. The wood splintered into a thousand pieces, the metal ball grazing his skull as it arced back along its path for another try. The chain shot forward once more and the ball crashed against the remaining stick, blasting his only defense and impacting violently against his skull. He cursed and stumbled sideways, momentarily blinded from the blow, catching himself against the concrete barricade.
Thick Neck’s rumbling voice taunted him. “Itaime-ni?”
Pain tore savagely at Max’s head, but he managed to look up. It would only be a matter of moments before the final driving lunge. The man’s enormous muscles flexed in preparation. Then, astonishingly, the ball and chain slipped to the ground and rolled into the dissipating mist. Thick Neck screamed as he clutched first at one leg, then the other. Through blurry vision, Max watched the gangster drop to his knees, his eyes growing saucerlike, staring at the blood surging between his fingers.
Lloyd Elgin stepped from the misty cloud, both guns leveled at the Yakuza’s head. He leaped masterfully into the air and delivered a bone-jarring roundhouse kick to the face. The big man’s head wobbled before his eyes rolled upward in a faint, and he slumped to the ground.
“Pathetic.” The cone-shaped filter covering Lloyd’s mouth and nose muffled his voice. He pulled the mask down to his chin. “Enough play. We’re getting the hell outta here.”
Max watched in stunned awe as Lloyd rolled more canisters across the ground. The smoke grenades exploded, strengthening and pushing out the edges of the white cloud. He could still hear distant gunfire and although he was disoriented, he wondered who was doing battle if Lloyd was standing right next to him.
“Police,” Lloyd said, his trained ears evidently having picked up the approaching sound of sirens long before anyone else heard them. Max barely acknowledged the warning as he moved forward and knelt down. Tomoko was huddled, weeping over the dead Yakuza’s shattered body. She held the wounded face and gently kissed his forehead.
Has she lost her mind? Max found himself wrapping an arm around he
r shaking shoulders. “Tomoko! We’ve got to go. Please!”
Lloyd twisted furiously and blasted both guns into the dense haze. A man’s voice cried out and then fell silent with a groan. The guns pointed back in their direction, accompanied by an expression of rigid determination. “You get her moving, or else.”
“She’ll go—just give her a second.” Max pulled Tomoko upright despite her sobbing resistance. Moving back into the smoke, they followed Lloyd, who was squeezing into the bushes ringing the cliff’s edge. The branches clawed and scratched, but they pressed on for a dozen steps until the rocky edge of the Suicide Cliffs lay before them.
Lloyd stood inches from the rim. Cracking a chemical glow stick, he tossed it to Max. “Give me some light, but keep it low.” Lying on the ground, he reached over the edge and hoisted up a hidden duffel bag. From inside, he retrieved a length of rope and three harnesses. “Get these on, quickly.”
Tomoko’s hands shook as she took the device and stared at the buckles and loops. Her tears cut vertical trails through the white powdered residue on her face, lending it a sad Geisha-like quality. “I―I don’t understand. Who are you? What is this?”
Max already had his harness half on. “I think I know what we’re doing. You have to put it on. There’s no time.” He looped the buckle at his waist. “We’re going to rappel. It’s a backdoor escape.”
“No, no!” Tomoko’s voice rose and she gripped Max’s arm in a vice. “It’s too high up! I can’t.”
Lloyd growled while fashioning “draws” into a makeshift anchor. “Either she’s ready by the time I am, or we leave her behind.”
Max calmed his breathing and held open a single leg loop. “This man is Lloyd Elgin,” he whispered hoarsely. “I don’t know where he came from, but the letters in his name rearrange to spell the words Golden Lily.”
Lloyd was busy attaching carabineers to the anchor.
Max continued, “He knows about the prince’s diary, and he wants it. The deal was that we get you back in exchange. If we don’t go with him . . . he’ll kill us both.”
Tomoko met his eyes. He could see she wanted forgiveness, and his voice suddenly became fierce. “I don’t care what’s happened. I’m not leaving you here.”
Twigs cracked and leaves rustled in the bushes back toward the clearing. Somebody was still hunting. Tomoko stared intently into Max’s face, searching, before finally lifting first one foot, then the other, placing them through the harness’s leg loops.
Lloyd tossed the rope over the edge and attached an unusual-looking metal device before activating and passing over two more chemical sticks. His green eyes seemed to glow with superhuman intensity as he spoke. “Squeeze here to drop down. Release pressure when you need to stop. We’ll all be close together, so once you find the bottom, get out of the way fast. Who’s first?”
“Me. I’ll show her how to do it.” Max stepped forward and clipped the device onto his harness as he peered into the black abyss, hoping the fear he was feeling wasn’t showing on his face. He swallowed hard before beginning to rappel down the uneven stone wall, slipping quickly below the cover of the tree line before vanishing altogether.
Waiting at the bottom with a glow stick as the only light, Max pondered running as soon as Tomoko arrived, but the darkness, rocky landscape, and heavy foliage made him reconsider. They would need Lloyd’s help to make it the rest of the way down the cliff to the ocean.
But can we get away from him alive?
Tomoko descended in short, jerking motions, and Max helped guide her down the last few feet and pulled her to the side. “Everything’s all right.” He embraced her.
“Tell me again, once I start breathing.”
Lloyd zipped quickly down the unobstructed line. Arriving at the bottom, he pulled on night-vision goggles. “Both of you follow me.”
It was apparent that the underbrush had recently been slashed from the trail, and as they clambered over jagged rocks, Max wondered how it was possible for one man to have planned and executed this mission all on his own. The obvious but unexpected answer was waiting at the bottom.
Finally reaching the coral plateau, Lloyd led them toward the white edge of the ocean. The glowing full moon overhead provided decent light, but still they stumbled through shallow pools of water on the long walk. A warm breeze picked up as they moved farther out. Looking up and back, Max could see lights flashing in the distance. Lloyd had been right—the police had arrived.
Tomoko tripped, but Max caught her. “I’m so tired. I just want to lie down,” she complained.
“Me, too, but keep going—just a bit more.” It seemed like a silly reply, given that he had no idea what was coming next, but there was little else to say.
Just before they reached the rolling water’s edge, Lloyd pulled a gun and turned menacingly. His face was shadowed, but his voice was clear. “My part is done. Now, where’s the diary?”
Max stared down the barrel and pressed Tomoko behind him. “O-Jima Island. Up the coast about five miles.” Max felt his skin crawl, but he stepped toward the barrel so it was snug against his sternum. “Let her go. I’ll take you there myself.”
“Max—no!”
Lloyd didn’t answer, but instead pulled out a cell phone. He spoke into the receiver. “I’m in place. We’re heading to O-Jima Island . . . and we have company.”
From nowhere, an obscure bump on the horizon increased in size as it came toward them. A distant hum morphed and changed into the throaty drone of twin outboard motors. Only feet from the coral’s edge, a black inflatable boat dropped its throttle and rotated ninety degrees before edging sideways. One of the two men on board leaned out. His muscular arms held a paddle over the rubber-sided craft to keep the surf from pushing it against sharp outcroppings.
Lloyd waved his gun. “Get in. Hurry up.”
Both men on the Zodiac were dressed in camouflage, their faces painted in matching stripes of olive and brown. Tomoko jumped first and Max followed suit, warily eyeing the men’s machine guns. He shivered from the ocean breeze and the mercenaries’ silent gaze.
As Max passed the driver’s seat, he noticed the handle of a machete jutting from beneath. It was clear now that the two had created the cliff trail earlier in the day. This whole island is crawling with military. The thought that Lloyd might be one of them only made the situation worse.
Tomoko moved quickly to the far rear corner, pressing her back into it and pulling her legs toward her chest before dropping her head. Max moved to take a seat just inches away.
The boat turned away from the reef and headed for open water. The rigid front bounced when it crested the first swells, but as the speed increased, the movement evened out into a flattened, rhythmic thud pounding over the wavetops.
Max pulled his knees in close, in imitation of Tomoko, who was retreating into her own world. Cautiously slipping a new cell phone from his pocket, he blinked into the wind, glancing around to ensure he wasn’t being watched. The three men standing at the midpoint of the boat seemed focused on the forward horizon. With his thumb, he quickly spelled out the word boat—it was the most that he dared write—followed by the SEND command.
Arrival by water had never been considered. I hope Toshi and Jeff are prepared for what’s coming.
“GET READY!” Toshi’s voice crackled in Jeff’s Bluetooth headset. “I can hear a boat approaching. I think it’s them.” Cell phone reception on O-Jima Island was poor, even if it was only a couple of hundred yards from the mainland.
Jeff clutched his motorbike helmet while standing on some rocks, attempting to get a better look. The expanse between him and the concrete pier to his right was the length of a football field. Half the distance in the opposite direction, a group of teenagers were clustered around a beach campfire. Repeated rounds of animated cheering were followed by the clinking of beer bottles and shouts of Kampai! He wondered how long the beachfront homeowners would put up with the noise.
In the distance, Toshi’s priestly whi
te robes glowed in the moonlight at the end of the pier. Set against the backdrop of twinkling houses rising up the mainland’s hillside, the scene looked almost prophetic: a sacred, luminous beacon waiting to deliver the innocent from danger. “I’ll leave the phone line open. Remember the plan. If this goes wrong, call the police. Do not try to help.”
Jeff agreed with haste, knowing full well that he couldn’t stand by and do nothing if his friends were in peril. He watched, transfixed, as a dark shape pulled alongside the pier and a single figure leaped from the boat.
Forced to kneel against the Zodiac’s rubber side, with a machine gun pressed to the back of his neck, Max wondered if it would hurt to die. What was I thinking? Lloyd will never let me walk away. My fate will be the same as Mr. M’s. And what would happen to Tomoko? None of this was her fault, but in the end that wouldn’t matter. She was kneeling next to him, forced into the same awkward position, deathly fear stamped upon her face.
He watched as Lloyd jumped from the boat, moving swiftly, ominously, into Toshi’s personal space, seemingly unfazed by the sight of a halo-white Shinto priest. “You’d better have what I want,” he growled.
Toshi’s voice quivered but his face remained a calm façade. “Yes, I have it.” He stepped back and extended the billowing sleeve covering his left arm. “Please take the prize yourself.” His head dipped in an outward display of respect.
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