Collector of Secrets

by Richard Goodfellow

  Lloyd holstered one of his guns and reached inside the folds of cloth, withdrawing the yellow diary. “So this is the troublesome book?” A smirk flickered quickly across his lips as he examined Prince Takeda’s red Hanko seal and looked randomly through the pages. “Excellent.”

  “And now if you would kindly complete the transaction.”

  “Naturally.” Lloyd snapped his fingers and the two mercenaries hoisted an obviously relieved Tomoko up onto the pier’s edge. As Max followed behind he glanced back to the boat, focusing on the trigger finger of the shorter mercenary twitching in anticipation, ready to respond. It was clear that the man was waiting for a signal to shoot, and in Max’s aching mind, there was no choice—as dangerous as it would be, Plan B would have to be played out. Beads of perspiration formed on his forehead, and he could feel his muscles tremble as the two groups quickly converged. It was time.

  Lloyd strode past without stopping as Tomoko rushed forward to embrace Toshi.

  Max was sure it would only be a matter of moments before the mercenaries started shooting once Lloyd was out of the line of fire. He held up a clenched fist of solidarity in front of his chest—the predetermined sign for Toshi to flee—as he gripped Tomoko’s shoulders from behind, leaning forward to whisper in her ear. “Go, now. You have to run.” He pushed her onward. “Hurry!”

  Tomoko’s eyes grew large and her lips fell open, but no sound came forth as Toshi turned and ran, pulling her away, his robes billowing.

  She knows I still love her. She understands.

  It was now or never. Sweat covered his body, yet his skin felt cold as ice. I am the new guardian! His eyes sprang wide and he returned the way he’d come—toward Lloyd—toward what would likely be the end. “One final thing, Mr. Elgin.”

  The green-eyed devil was almost at the boat when he turned in response, his back facing the black ocean.

  Max’s voice held steady, despite his gripping fear. “The diary you’re holding has been scanned and dozens of secure copies have been placed on servers around the world. Daily codes must be entered to prevent the copies being released on the Internet. If you harm any of us—”

  For a moment Lloyd appeared stunned, then his face erupted into rage as he surged forward, delivering a violent punch to the stomach, followed by a driving blow to the jaw. Max felt the excruciating impact of the combined force lift him off his feet, tossing him backward to the ground.

  “You two stop!” Lloyd roared as he fired his gun high into the air. The mercenaries jumped from the boat to the concrete pier with their weapons trained forward.

  Gasping, grimacing in agony, rolling from side to side, Max clutched his gut. He could hear the sound of Tomoko weeping—it seemed so distant.

  Lloyd wrenched at Max’s blood-stained shirt, pulling him up, lifting him closer to his own menacing face. The gun’s smoking barrel jammed against the flesh of his neck, triggering a moan. Lloyd’s words came slow and evil. “It’s a bluff. You idiots have no idea who you’re screwing with, do you?”

  Max struggled to rise above the pain. Mucus trailed beneath his nose and down his chin. He could sense part of a tooth resting against his tongue and he spat it out. “We . . . we know the kind of people you are.” His voice shook, but the rage inside forced the words out in gasping breaths. “You would never . . . leave us alone without a reason.”

  “And you believe holding copies of the diary is enough of a reason?”

  “Unless . . . failure is an option.”

  Forty feet away, Toshi began shouting and waving an arm towards the beach. “No! Don’t come. Stay away! Don’t come!” He was standing between Tomoko and the boat, acting as a shield, with his right hand pressed to his ear.

  “Don’t come?” Lloyd stood and shouted. “Who the hell are you talking to?” His hand suddenly pointed. “Dammit. Get that thing off his head.”

  One of the mercenaries charged forward, tore away the earpiece, and crushed it beneath an oversized boot.

  Lloyd knelt back down. “Digital documents on the Internet and people eavesdropping on our meeting. You’ve really got this whole spy bullshit worked out, haven’t you, Mr. Travers?”

  “Take your miserable fucking diary!” Max lay still on the ground. The warm taste of blood swam in the back of his throat. “We’re not going to talk about this, ’cause we know revealing Golden Lily would mean death.” He observed Lloyd’s face as the machinelike man mulled their fate. “You won’t gain anything by killing us . . . except the world discovering your secret. Take your prize . . . leave us alone and we all live.”

  The moment was broken by a sudden burst of machine-gun fire searing the air.

  “Sir, a group of people are moving up the beach toward this position. There’s a man wearing a motorcycle helmet leading them.”

  Lloyd paced, glaring downward with burning eyes. “You had better be telling the truth about holding onto those copies. At least for the next year.” He waved his gun in emphasis. “After that, I don’t give a rat’s ass. You can deal with the next ‘Lloyd’ if you’re stupid enough to change your mind.”

  “Understood.” Max nodded and wiped at the blood on his face. “We just want to live.”

  “I’ll be watching and listening. One slip, one peep, and you won’t even see death coming.” He snapped his fingers. “It’ll be over.” Lloyd backed away, then paused. For just a brief instant, it appeared that he might change his mind, but he turned and jumped into the boat, followed by the two mercenaries. The dual engines roared to life as the maneuverable craft spun around before tearing away into the night.

  Max barely regained his feet when he felt himself enveloped in a hug. Toshi was laughing hysterically. “You did it!”

  “Owww! My ribs.”

  “Gomen! Sorry.” The grip released instantly.

  “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

  Tomoko approached quietly from the side and Max reached out a shaky arm. He wiped the tear-mark trails from her cheeks with his dirt-stained thumb. “Hey, I know you.” He took her hands in his. There was so much for them to talk about, so much to explain. “You’re tired. Let’s take you home so you can sleep.”

  She smiled, eyes raw. “I need to call my parents. Make sure they’re all right.”

  “Yes, absolutely.”

  Her voice grew soft like a child’s. “Domo arigato.”

  The sounds of distant shouting grew louder. Jeff, accompanied by the teenagers, was charging up the pier to meet them. Toshi pointed toward the raucous group. “We should leave quickly before the police come.”

  Max chuckled and then flinched in pain, clutching at his side, thinking of the flashing lights on the Mabuni clifftop. “Don’t worry. I’m pretty sure that the cops have their hands full right now with Oto Kodama.”

  Tuesday, May 1

  MAX’S CHIN rested on his forearms, which were perched on his bare knees. Frothy ocean water lapped against the golden beach sand, rolling back and forth within inches of his toes. The warm morning sun felt good on his back after a swim. He could already feel his battered body regaining strength.

  The rusty gate squeaked from behind, and he turned to watch Tomoko emerge from the trees to descend the trail. She looked great, dressed in rolled-up jeans and one of Jeff’s T-shirts, her hair still wet from a shower. What would I have done if she’d been lost forever?

  “Morning,” she said, her voice cracking slightly.

  Max took the coffee from her outstretched hand. “Thanks.”

  She appeared tense, sipping quietly from her cup while settling into the sand a few feet away.

  Max glanced up the beach to her right, toward a twenty-foot white vessel resting on the shoreline. He gestured for Tomoko to look. A fisherman, with a towel for a headband, was loading supplies over the boat’s side. His wife, who was already on board, sat with her face hidden beneath a large-brimmed cap.

  Tomoko watched, her eyes widening. “That can’t be the same boat we saw in Izu?”

  “I thought the
same when I came out a half hour ago, but I think they’re a bit younger.” He was glad for the conversational ice-breaker. “Plus the Izu guy was a better singer.”

  “Do you want me to ask if having a simple life makes them happier?”

  Max shook his head, self-consciously recalling his former question from what seemed like so long ago. “No. Did you talk to your parents?”

  “Yes. They were hiding at my uncle’s house.” She blew over the top of her steaming cup. “And, they were happy to know I’m safe, but—” she paused. “My mother heard about Mrs. Kanazawa’s death, so she cried a lot.”

  The fisherman pushed the boat into the lapping surf before leaping on board. He made a point of waving, then started the motor and turned toward the open water. As Max waved back, he broached the nagging question, working to quiet his own jealousy. “Last night, why did that Yakuza guy sacrifice himself? You said his name was Hiro. You . . . you were upset over him. Did something happen between you two?”

  The reply was quick. “Please . . . I can’t talk about that.” Tomoko kept her face turned away. “Nothing happened . . . maybe later . . . not now.”

  “Fine.” He believed her, but his hurt rushed out, uncontainable. “I can’t believe you left. People who love each other don’t just leave without saying anything!”

  “You’re right,” she replied softly. “Can you forgive me?”

  Max rose and stepped closer, thinking of his passport and how she’d held back giving it to him. But it would be best discussed when the sting of painful memories was more distant. He dropped back down in the sand beside her. “All I know is that I’ve never felt so alone as when I was on that Bullet Train.” Directly before them, over the water, a pair of seagulls floated on the wind, diving and twisting around each other. Max continued. “I thought I’d lost you—I don’t think I can handle that again.”

  She wiped at her moist eyes with the back of her hand. “Thank you for rescuing me.”

  “There’s no need . . . you should never have even been involved. You wouldn’t have been in that situation if I hadn’t gone to Mr. M’s in the first place, and if I hadn’t been so pig-headed about checking on your parents.”

  “You don’t know that for sure.”

  “Trust me, I do know.” A handful of sand filtered through his open fingers as he spoke.

  Tomoko nodded. “So, besides needing therapy to deal with everything, are you and me okay? Her hand reached over and brushed his damp brown hair. It was already growing blond again at the roots. “I’m so sorry.”

  He watched her look into his eyes, recognizing the doubt recede like the tide. “It’s in the past.” Max kissed her cheek as her hand ran along the edge of his swollen jaw and down to his neck.

  “You have a huge bruise.” She touched his shoulder. “And look at all your scratches!”

  He laughed as his arms formed a circle around her, holding them both in the moment, wishing it would last forever.

  There was a long silence before he spoke again. “What do you think about taking a short trip? Toshi offered us the use of his jet. He suggested a week in Cambodia, but only if you’re cool with it.” Max felt confident that this time her desire was the same as his—to get away, to drift anonymously in a crowd of people, without fear of being stalked or chased. To eat good food and grow tired of idle relaxation and sleep. To be someplace where there were no Yakuza and no diaries; a place to heal. “The Angkor Wat temples are supposed to be amazing—some of the greatest in the world. We could chill, take a few pictures.”

  “And when we come back, will you please talk with the police?”

  “Of course. I have to clear my name if I’m gonna stay here.”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  “Good. I’ll phone Toshi when we go back up to the house. But there is one thing I need to show you before we leave the island,” he suggested slyly.

  Tomoko’s brow furrowed. “What?”

  “No, no, don’t worry. It’s nothing bad. In fact, I think you’ll be quite amazed. Trust me.”

  She didn’t look entirely convinced as he kissed her forehead, and nose, and cheeks, and lips.

  THE POLICEMAN’S tension wrench slipped easily into the lock. His experienced fingers worked until the click of the cylinder signaled its defeat.

  Hazy light filtered in through the sheer curtains covering the single window in the back office. Stepping through the doorway, the stench of death bit at his nostrils. Holding his breath, he made a quick sweep of the room—cheap furniture, shelves, and industrial carpet—before returning back to the hallway.

  A single button on his cell phone connected him to Masami Ishi’s waiting ears. The superintendent of criminal investigation had sounded stressed when he’d called early in the morning. “Well, what did you find?”

  “There’s nobody here, sir. It appears she’s abandoned the premises.”

  “How did you draw that conclusion?”

  “Her cat’s dead body. It appears to have been poisoned.”

  “Damn it.”

  “Should I call animal control?”

  “Absolutely not! Just look for clues to where she might have gone. Then lock up and leave quietly. Let me know if you find anything.”

  “Yes, sir.” Slipping the phone back into his pocket, the policeman held his nose and went back inside.

  Masami Ishi stared down on the crowd of hundreds gathered in the street below his office. Their fists pumped the air in unison. Lettered banners and colored streamers waved and shook in the morning breeze, while the barking voice of a chanter blasted from enormous speakers mounted on a parked van. The annual May Day labor rally was in full swing.

  A persistent knock at his office door finally drew his attention away from the window. The Office Lady apologized and bowed as she opened the door and stepped inside. “There’s a call from the chief of police in Okinawa. He’s phoned several times already. I tried to take a message, but this time he’s insisting that you speak with him.” She folded her hands in front of her slender waist. “And . . . he sounds very angry.”

  Masami Ishi sighed and let the sweeping strands of hair slide down his forehead. “All right.” The morning was going from bad to worse.

  “And one other thing, sir.”

  He raised his eyebrows in exaggerated frustration, while stomping back to his desk. “Yes?”

  “The head of the National Public Safety Commission left a message a few minutes ago. He’s on his way over to meet with you.”

  Masami Ishi’s mind blanked for a moment, and he steadied himself before sitting slowly back into his chair. Yoko’s voicemail had spoken the truth, after all. The betrayal of his authority had indeed been caught on tape. The moment’s irony was not lost as the blood drained from his cheeks; his own indictment would mean the American’s acquittal.

  An awkward moment passed until the OL cleared her throat. “That’s everything, sir.”

  “Yes. Go.” Ordinarily he would have admired her form-fitting skirt as she turned around, but on this occasion he simply pressed his palms flat against the desktop and stared at all ten of his shaking fingers.

  JEFF LED the way, crawling on all fours. Close behind, in the musty air, Tomoko followed him, then Max, whose voice echoed along the rock passageway.

  “I forgot how much this kills my knees.”

  “Stop whining, bro. You’re the one who wanted to come back here.” Jeff rose to his feet and issued a warning by shaking his headlamp back and forth. “Tomoko, be careful here, the ground is slippery. Grab the walls.”

  “What do you mean, ‘come back here’? Where are you guys taking me?”

  Max had been playing coy all morning, and he wasn’t about to spoil the surprise when it was so close. “Like I said, it’s kind of hard to explain. That’s why we need to show you.”

  After edging down the wide ramp, they stepped inside the closet-sized metal chamber.

  Max locked them inside. “You ready?”

  “I really don�
��t need any more surprises,” sighed Tomoko, “but okay.”

  Jeff spun the handle on the second door before pushing it open with his foot. The string of high fluorescent lights clapped into brilliance as Tomoko stared into the vast room. She turned back, and Max saw the same look of wonder that he knew had crossed his own face only two days earlier.

  She raised her overflowing voice. “What is this place?”

  “Prince Takeda built it.” Max and Jeff glanced significantly at each other before Max finally continued. “He spent forty years collecting valuable items stolen by the military. His plan was to give it all back to the rightful owners.”

  “Wau! This is unbelievable! What about the cabinets?”

  Jeff chimed in. “Documented evidence of Golden Lily and its aftermath. The plan was to reveal the global corruption at the same time the stolen goods were returned.” He motioned to the television. “Prince Takeda left a video, if you want to watch it.”

  “So why didn’t he finish the plan?”

  Max shrugged. “We don’t know. Maybe he got scared or sick. We’re not really sure.” He removed his day pack and retrieved the second diary along with a paper-clipped copy of the first. “I’m planning to return these to Ben, but I want to leave them here, for safe keeping while we’re away.”

  “I’d like to watch the video . . .” Tomoko took the documents from his hands, “and I’ll find a place to put these, for now.”

  Max smiled. “Great. Toshi said he needed a couple more hours to get the plane ready, and I want to show Jeff a few things, since we didn’t have much time to look around before.”

  “Go ahead.” Tomoko wasn’t paying attention as her neck craned and her eyes roamed the high ceiling and far walls.

  Max took his time moving down the central corridor. The pain killers he’d taken were helping but there was no need pushing any harder than necessary. “You have to see this amazing dragon statue . . . and the terracotta warriors.”

  Jeff adjusted his ponytail as they walked along. “So, what do we do about this place?”