by James Quinn
He'd reorganized his clan, making it suitable for the melting pot of the Cold War. He embroiled himself in the world of international mercenaries, private assassins for hire and the movement of illegal arms sales in Asia. His operatives were contracted out to the Russians, the Bulgarians, even the Libyans; anyone that needed an enemy agent liquidated. But he understood that he still had to be a part of the shadows, his name could not be connected in any way with the operations he was conducting. He would need to be a shadow, a ghost, a phantom. He took the title of the Karasu-Tengu, the legendary monster that was half-demon and half-raven. The name was soon feared within the Yakuza underworld as the Karasu violently dispatched anyone that dared to challenge or threaten him. He was swift and merciless. He was now the Oyabun, the leader, of the Karasu-Tengu clan. His lieutenants never met with him personally and instead orders were issued through his trusted Saiko-Komon, chief advisor, the formidable Hokku. The Raven and his clan had, at their disposal, a network of couriers, agents, smugglers and assassins. All were professional, and all were ruthless. His reach stretched far and wide within the international criminal networks. He was known and respected and he dealt with traitors in the most extreme fashion. Death was his stock in trade. The wealth he'd accumulated had been wisely poured into his legitimate enterprises, most notably his flagship corporation; Nakata Industries. Through this, he was able to purchase a cutting edge research facility, laboratory, vehicles and sea and air transport vessels.
The English spy had also risen within the ranks, to become a part of the establishment that had saved Yoshida Nakata all those years ago. Both had, over the years, cultivated a veneer of respectability, but now the Englishman was a co-ordinator, rather than a field agent. He was on the ascent and climbing rapidly. So it had been a surprise to both men that on an ordinary day in the winter of 1956, they had both, accidentally, made each other's acquaintance once more. It was unplanned and unexpected. Fate it seemed, had taken a hand and it would prove to be a fruitful and dangerous rekindling of a relationship for both the spy and his long-time agent. They'd both been in Tokyo visiting the Meiji Shrine, there'd been no subterfuge involved, merely a random chance, a passing encounter. The shrine had been moderately busy and the two former colleagues had simply passed each other. They'd both paid their respects separately and had been ready to leave. Yoshida Nakata had been the first to notice the Caucasian man. He'd simply walked up calmly, bowed out of respect and said, “Hello my friend. It is so good to see you again.”
The Englishman, who'd once used the working name of Alex White had turned in surprise, took a moment to register the man in front of him and then smiled that open and warm smile of his. “Nakata–San, my friend…”
* * *
Their cabal had been formed out of bitterness and opportunity. It was a mutual arrangement, borne out of the days of their secret war. What had started as a friendly meeting in a tea house between two old comrades had, over the months and with caution, developed into something more. No one had mentioned the word 'traitor' even though they both knew that treachery against their respective countries was what they were taking part in to further their own naked ambitions. In some ventures, there is almost a psychic link that connects co-conspirators and for the Englishman and the Japanese assassin this was certainly the case.
The Englishman was bitter about his betrayal by his SIS masters, the capture, the torture, the leaving him to rot in a Japanese hellhole of a camp, the order for his murder. He'd worked hard to rise within his organisation, but still… at the back of his mind, there was a persistent nagging that someone should pay for what he'd gone through and what he was still suffering now; the nightmares, the horrors, the years of mental trauma. He'd pulled himself back from the brink of suicide many a time, clawed his way back to reality and sanity. He'd bided his time and waited… waited for an opportunity to take some kind of revenge, however small, on the people, the establishment which had left him for dead. All that nonsense on the SIS new agent course, 'We always bring our people home'. Bullshit. He'd been forgotten by some fop of an SIS desk officer when the going had gotten tough… war or no war. They'd left him… and when they couldn't rescue him, they'd decided to kill him. Except they would have used an official term for it… elimination, expediency – something that hid from the sensitive souls in the War Office what they were really talking about; the assassination of one of their own officers. And he hated them for it… hated them with a passion that burned. He needed a road back and it was the reuniting with his former agent that had provided him with the opportunity he needed.
As for Yoshida Nakata, the now reborn crime lord and assassin clan leader, his motivation was what it always had been; the acquisition of wealth, power and influence. He was a man of respectability, a captain of the new Japanese industrial complex. His true self was hidden behind a veil of legitimacy. But Nakata, the Raven, had a plan, something that was far above his contract killing, arms dealing and extortion, something to be played on a bigger stage, and something which would send shockwaves throughout the Western world. A slow revenge. A joining of forces. Old comrades protecting each other's backs, helping each other along for their mutual benefit, gaining power and influence along the way. It was from this humble beginning that the Raven and the Salamander were born; one the planner and one the agent of influence, able to manipulate behind the scenes and in the corridors of power. Theirs would be a devastating partnership.
And from this embryonic pact came their long term plan, to hold control over the most powerful governments in the world and reap the financial rewards, by means of the ultimate terror weapon; the Kyonshi. The Raven would pick his targets wisely. For instance, he knew that to threaten the CIA or the Russians would bring about his downfall, so when he'd bankrupted the British, and Salamander had his thirst for revenge against them quenched, he would move on to the Germans, then the French, the Swiss and the Italians. Over the course of the next decade, the Raven wallowed in his invincibility. He was a man with no wife and no children. His only love was for power and domination over those who feared him. When he died, he would leave nothing of himself behind. His bones would be dust and he would go to face the lord Buddha as a lone warrior.
* * *
Ensconsed in the sanctuary of his pagoda, Yoshida Nakata prepared for combat. In the darkness of his training hall, he stood motionless. His senses awake, alive and he could smell his targets approaching. He could smell the fear and desperation in all of them. They approached as a pack, foolishly thinking that numbers would protect them from the Raven. They were wrong. He watched as they came at him. They were slow, foolish, not even a challenge… even for a training session, he'd expected better fodder than this. He quickly stepped back and slashed with his sword, the blade arcing down, its steel giving a faint hiss as it cut through the warm air around him before it hit flesh. There was a silent gasp, an aroma of fresh blood and the noise of a body falling in the darkness. Yoshida Nakata's blade had barely stopped moving before it was angled horizontally and slicing through the neck of the second attacker… he too fell… as did the third and the fourth. The room was filled with the carnage of silent death and Yoshida Nakata had barely moved from his spot. He knelt down in the darkness of the room and sheathed the sword in the scabbard across his back. He breathed deeply and relaxed. Within moments, the doors to the training level of the dojo slid back and the huge bulk of Hokku entered the room. The giant Japanese looked down at the dismembered bodies strewn across the floor. He wrinkled his nose in disgust at the blood and then turned his attention to his Oyabun. “They were satisfactory?” he asked.
The Raven stood slowly and frowned, his one clear eye fixed on Hokku. “They were of poor quality, easy fodder.”
“I will punish the recruiter in the village. The next batch will be up to standard. I will not let the skills of my master wane,” Hokku replied earnestly.
The Raven shook his head. “No, my brother, you misunderstand me. It is not myself that I was training…
it was my steel which required blood to quench its thirst.”
Hokku stared down at his master's sword and nodded in understanding. The sword was but an extension of the man, after all.
“Come, we have much to discuss. Our time today is short,” said the Raven.
Chapter Twelve
Hokku was experienced enough to know that the Raven implicitly distrusted the telephone at the best of times, and especially when important matters relating to the working of the clan needed to be discussed. It was always a meeting held in secrecy and face-to-face. The Raven was a careful man, having survived many conspiracies and plots against him. Which was why Hokku, the Saiko-Komon, or senior organiser, of the Karasu-Tengu clan, was forced to give his opinions directly to his Oyabun on the employment of a new gaijin contractor.
Not that Hokku would ever be summoned into the busy evening streets of Tokyo, to attend the high rise headquarters of Nakata Industries. Nakata Industries was a respected corporation that had been formed in the embers of Japan's defeat in 1945 and it had played a major part in giving Yoshida Nakata a veneer of respectability. Nakata was now known as one of the foremost businessmen of modern Japan, known for his stoic work ethics and determination to make the pharmaceutical branch of Nakata Industries the best in the world. Already he was developing corporate strategies to branch out into the American and European markets.
Nakata sat calm and in control at his desk on the upper level of the pagoda. He looked the very epitome of a successful Japanese Chief Executive Officer. Dark business suit, sombre tie, elegant gold watch at his wrist. He was a man who, through his legitimate business, had made many contacts in the Ministry of International Trade and Industry and various branches of the Kokkaii, the national Parliament. He was respected and influential. But Hokku knew that was only the outer mask of the man. In his glass office block in Tokyo, he conducted the business of Nakata Industries, but it was here in the pagoda that he would officiate his true affairs. Beneath the respectability, Yoshida Nakata's true heart lay in the world of arms dealing, terrorism-for-hire, espionage and contract assassination. It ran in his blood, had done so for generations, and it was what drove him forward; the adventure, the violence and the intrigue of being the leader of one of the last of the assassin clans.
But where the other clans such as the Iga and the Koga had refused to change with the ways of modern Japan, Hokku knew that the brilliance and visionary planning of Yoshida Nakata ensured that the Karasu clan would continue for another hundred years. The Raven had respected the old ways of the Shinobi, but had been wise enough to expand and outgrow the confines of Japan. He made contacts with other organised crime families throughout the world and had, on many occasions, provided services that helped their businesses thrive. And the fact that no one was any the wiser regarding his true identity, was a testament to his skills as a prudent and careful operator.
They sat across the desk from each other and discussed the details of their business as only warriors who have fought and killed side-by-side can. They spoke in hushed tones, Hokku briefing his master and Nakata only occasionally asking a pertinent question if it was needed. There was a contract being placed by a high ranking Mafioso, who was keen to remove a rival in the Turkish heroin pipeline… job currently being organised. The training of a Right-Wing extremist group in Peru…job being considered. The payment of $20,000 from a senior Chinese official who wanted his mistress's Western lover murdered in Paris. The man also wanted to have the murder filmed, so that he could gloat repeatedly. The organising of a bombing campaign designed to destabilise a small African economy and thus increase the need to bring in 'foreign' corporations to manage the country's diamond mining operation. And finally the recruitment of a new gaijin contractor, a former spy who was reputed to be an exceptional gunman and assassin.
The Raven nodded, satisfied that the day-to-day operations of the clan were being well attended to by his senior advisor. Now he wanted to focus on the most important of operations and the one which would gain him the most reward and power. He settled back in the leather chair and fixed Hokku with a stare of authority. “And how are we progressing with the Kyonshi operation?”
Hokku searched for the information that was secreted away in his vast memory. Nothing would ever be committed to paper, not while Hokku was responsible for the clan's most audacious plot, a plot that had been years in the planning. “Everything is as we envisioned. The technical devices are completed and can be in place within a week at any of the target countries and locations that you choose.”
“And the conduit responsible for the transfer of monies, once the British decide to pay again?” asked the Raven. His one good eye fixed on his clan brother.
“It is all in order, Oyabun. The money transfer route is impeccable and untraceable. Salamander will deal with any last minute problems, if the British government decide to stall. He will exert a small amount of pressure here or there; he is perfectly placed to bend them to our bidding.”
“And the architects? They are still unaware of their impending fate?”
Hokku nodded. The 'architects' were the two technical experts who had been vital in helping the Kyonshi operation come to fruition. One was an expert in bio-toxins who had helped develop the virus under the cover of the legitimate Nakata Industries chemical division, while the other was an engineer and explosives expert who had been given the task of developing several small devices to help deliver the toxin into the wider populace. Both had outlived their usefulness and would soon need to be eliminated. The less people that knew of the operation, the better.
“They are both still in Brazil, living the good life and keeping a low profile until the operation has been completed… or that is what they have been led to believe,” said Hokku.
The Raven mused on the information. His mind was working rapidly, bringing all the threads together, and then merging them into one. Surely, that was the sign of a great leader, having that ability to take the abstract and make it co-ordinated. “Perhaps there is a way that we can combine these separate operations, temporarily,” he said, staring down in deep thought at his powerful hands. “The gaijin, the one that Trench is so enamoured with… the new contractor…”
“Grant – his cryptonym is Gorilla,” explained Hokku.
“Has he been tested?”
Hokku knew that the Raven expected the best from his contractors. Before they were given anything of value to do, they were first tested to see if they could live up to the standards of the clan. If not, they usually disappeared. “Trench had some Chinese gung-fu thugs try to attack him in Hong Kong.”
“How did he respond?”
“He killed one and seriously disabled the other… blinded him and left him with broken hands, so I am informed. Grant only received a few cuts and bruises,” replied Hokku honestly.
The Raven raised an eyebrow at that. A gaijin besting two martial artists in hand-to-hand combat! “So, not just skills with a firearm then? Although protocol dictates he should have killed them both!”
“Perhaps he let the other man live to send a message,” countered Hokku. That comment brought the full gaze of the Raven upon him.
“You admire him, like him even? Share your thoughts with me as my senior advisor,” said the Raven.
Hokku considered his response before replying. “For a gaijin of little culture, I did like him, yes. The man was honest, directly so sometimes, and he is undoubtedly a skilled killer of men. I think he would work well under the control of Trench, perhaps even taking over from Trench at some point in the future and running our European contractors.”
The Raven nodded, having made up his mind. “Send him to Brazil to eliminate the two architects. Their time has come. He can take over from that fool, Reierson. The one that committed seppuku.”
“I shall see to it at once,” said Hokku.
“I want this contract completed as soon as possible. He is to have minimal back-up and a short window to carry out the executions. Do not give hi
m the best equipment we have, give him something… basic. Something that will make the contract that much more challenging,” ordered the Raven.
“You mean to have him fail, Oyabun?”
“No, never! I merely wish to see how a man of this Gorilla's reputation can cope when he has the odds working against him.”
Hokku thought that was an understatement – minimal back up, poor equipment, a solo contractor doing both hits and all within a short time frame? “And if he should fail?”
“Then he will have been tested and found wanting. I fully expect that he won't make it out of Brazil alive. Make sure that Police Captain we have on the payroll is standing by, ready to gun him down if we need to remove him. Of course, if this Gorilla succeeds, well then…”
“Yes Oyabun?”
The Raven smiled and stood ready to leave, his car waiting to whisk him to his legitimate life in the business world of Tokyo. “Then bring him to me. I would have him stand before me, as I would wish to look into his soul and see a kindred spirit. I would wish to see my best man face-to-face.”
Chapter Thirteen
HONG KONG – OCTOBER 1967
The first real intelligence provided to the Sentinel team, from their undercover agent inside the Raven clan, was delivered to a pre-arranged dead letter box which was actually behind the cistern of a toilet in one of the many anonymous restaurants in Kowloon. Gorilla had filled the dead letter box on the Saturday morning, as soon as he'd arrived back from Vientiane, and then followed it up with a call to the safe contact number which directed him straight to his case officer, Penn.