Wight

by Dorien Vincent

  A statesman, who disagreed wholeheartedly with war and sought peace, was flaunting the clandestine intentions of the Yakuza.

  He would be put under their yoke; Yoto's family to make its name through this operation. And Tset did not know this then, but the plot was deeper - depths excluding the Americans until it was much too late.

  Jacqueline was to be the would-be assassin, making an appearance, but drawing no blood.

  Yoto-Oro leered over at Tset, "See? No harm done."

  Tset nodded and said, "Yes." He'd found if you pointedly ignored people in Japan, they were likely to become physically hostile.

  In the leading car, Jacqueline was having similar thoughts - she did not want to go through with this, did not want to fight anyone. And but for her mother, she wouldn't.

  She pulled the hood of her suit down over her face but turned off the nightvision snoops, and she wept, silently shaking and alone in the back seat of her transport.

  Dargent had been having an impact on her. Her world had been... been, reduced to grey - a life set doing something she felt no passion but revulsion for, fighting battles for people she detested, and all lest she lose herself or, worse, her mother, the one person she did love.

  All her verve, she'd realized, all her decisions to fly free, had flown themselves, and she was resigned to...

  And then he showed up, and respected her, and talked to her like a person. No physical blows, no spoken hate. He even spoke to her like almost an equal, or at least an adult. He probably did not consider any his equal. And he may've been right, in Jacqueline's eyes, for above even that, he claimed to be one of the 'white-hats' Jacqueline so appreciated from the pirated spaghetti westerns she sometimes downloaded; not a simple murderer, but a man of some honor.

  He'd said she shouldn't be a killer unless she wanted to, and she didn't want to, and never had. Even for good, she didn't think.

  Now she wept for she found she did not know what to do. She entertained herself by pretending it was his fault, that if he had never come, then she could have gone on.

  But what sort of life was it where every day was heralded by an apathy instead of a decision? A decision not to decide?

  She smiled through her tears when she thought of the self-destruction Yoto-Oro had suggested so many times, "If you're so sad, bitch, why not take your own life?"

  She sniffed and wiped at her face through her mask, 'Idiot.'

  But what would she do now? Would her mother understand if she ran away?

  Her fate lay with one man - crass, offensive and well-wanted by authorities in all of Europe and Asia.

  She giggled a little bit. She couldn't imagine a knight in shinier armor.

  She imagined that, even if he didn't directly affect her outcome, he'd already changed it, at least a little.

  She sighed, and dreamed little dreams, putting off the act of political murder she was heading towards.

  Tset held his breath and shook. He became steadily more irritated by the native chatter around him in the car. His thoughts were far from the little girl with a heartful of wonder for him; he was still focused on not killing anyone he shouldn't.

  When the car finally did stop, Tset's shoe slammed into the wet asphalt and he impatiently lit a cigarette.

  He checked back and forth, and the blank windows of the edifice in front of him, then he slid aside, allowing Yoto to leave the car.

  The short Daimyo regarded him for a moment, approving.

  Tset was silent.

  Yoto led him into the building.

  "Why aren't we stopping?" Jacqueline asked the driver, rubbing her face and hopping up to look out the rear window of the car.

  "Orders. Sit back. Dargent has some... business to attend to."

  "What?"

  Now Jacqueline was worried. What would they do to him? What were they trying to pull?

  Tset was led down several flights of stairs into a very low basement. He noticed, immediately, the soundproofing and met someone he wasn't expecting to.

  Smith.

  He didn't say anything aside from, "Yes?" When Yoto and his men shuffled in behind him.

  "Yaguchi-san says you're in league with this man."

  "Don't know 'im."

  Smith was badly beaten, and now breathing hard, fear coursing in his very blood.

  "Oh? Yaguchi says otherwise. Says you and him work for Pelican. Smith is his name."

  "And Yaguchi can step the fuck forward before I find him and make a necklace out of his teeth."

  And so Yaguchi did, grinning, his eyes and those teeth flashing.

  "Oh. I was wondering who the heck you were."

  Tset reached into his jacket and removed an envelope, from the envelope he pulled some small Kodiak-labelled photos and held them for Yoto to see, flipping through them, "See, Daimyo, I thought he was familiar when I saw him yesterday..."

  Yaguchi did not know what was in the photographs, but Yoto's eyes widened. He turned the pictures for Yaguchi to look at, "What is this?" He hissed this between his teeth.

  Yaguchi turned a weird green color, but maintained his smile.

  Tset was grinning openly, "See, I don't know who this guy is, but if he's talking with this Smith person... captures him, seems like a ploy. I know the Americans know I'm here, and don't want me to be. You get any info from torturing him?"

  "Of course not, he's American, doesn't feel pain. Gave us a name, rank and serial number and said we had no right to anything else."

  Tset laughed, once, "Cute, good work there, liberal buddy." He patted Smith's knee, and Smith jerked away from him, "But what do we do with this betrayer?"

  The mirrored faces of the sunglasses turned on Yaguchi, who cleared his throat before speaking, staring back at his dual reflection.

  He went on, strained, "I must say, this is very, very clever of you, Mr. Dargent, though I doubt that's your name. However, to prove your honor, regardless of whether or not I am indeed in league, you must at least kill this spy."

  Tset did not flinch, "Out of ammo, and stop trying to curry favor. Next time you frame me, pay off some witnesses."

  Yoto nodded, however, "No, he is right. You aren't trusted, Dargent. Prove yourself."

  Tset sighed, while Smith's breathing got heavier through the gag, "Killing's my forte, but let's be strategic..."

  Yaguchi's voice was high and strident, "Kill him!"

  Tset looked down at Yoto-Oro, "May I speak?"

  "Surely, what is it you think?" He waved a hand at Yaguchi, quieting his protests.

  "If we kill the spy, who works for Americans let me remind you, we'll get retalliation. They'll want some or all of us, understand?"

  Yoto was nodding.

  "So, based on their sense of justice, why don't we just fuck him up a bit, and send him back with a warning note?"

  Yoto inclined his head, brow creased in thought, "I... don't..."

  "No retalliation, and they'll know not to send anyone else, or at least be more careful. Would be much more profitable than bringing a small American army down on our necks."

  "No!" Yaguchi was cracking, ignoring Yoto's upraised hand; his well-laid plans falling around him, his intelligence made invalid. He drew his gun and held it out to Tset, "No! Prove yourself!"

  "This is affrontery." And without another word, Tset took the handle of the Desert Eagle and pulled the trigger, the .45 caliber punched a hole in Yaguchi the breadth of a soup tureen.

  Yaguchi fell and Tset tossed the gun after him.

  Not breaking stride, he turned to Yoto and started popping his knuckles, each, first, second and third. This was done with care and finesse, "Now, I can at least give 'em something more to think about." He regarded Smith with the evil eye.

  Everyone was stunned, especially Smith, but Tset was being meticulous.

  Four or five minutes later, and an eternity to Smith, and Tset stood up. Smith was a mess, his eyes were swollen shut and one of his shoulders was broken.

  "If we don't get him to a h
ospital, quick, I just fucked up."

  Yoto-Oro snapped his fingers, and Smith was untied and lifted, groaning. He was carried out.

  Dargent and Yoto-Oro faced each other, and Yoto spoke, "I still do not trust you."

  "Understood. Tamagachi had a longer track record."

  "You are much too smart."

  Tset gave a single nod. 'You're just an idiot, really' stayed only in his mind.

  "But, for now, you'll do."

  Tset nodded, "All right." He pumped his fist as the group, minus Yaguchi, filed back out.

  An hour later and Jacqueline's heart leapt. She'd been sitting in her car wondering and waiting - then, the cold ice as the other car pulled up across the street.

  And the leap; there he was! Standing in the sunlight, not a hair out of place, as cold and moody as always.

  When she sighed with relief the driver turned around to look at her, a hitch in his upper lip.

  Jacqueline gathered herself and pulled her mask down to blush privately.

  Tset was smoking another cigarette, appreciating the cool morning air. He was asked to put it out before they went into the next building.

  He growled and did so.

  The building they entered was a coldly modern office building, the lobby reminiscent of Haliburton's, though done in sharp lines without so much gold and marble.

  The group passed straight through.

  Jacqueline caught up to Tset, conspicuously inconspicuous. Tset ignored her and watched Yoto.

  They were led into a room, with a large conference table in the middle of it. There were seventeen men sitting around it already but still open seats for the new arrivals.

  When the men all stood, Tset took sharp stock of them - assassins, most definitely. All dangerous killers. And here was Jacqueline. His jaw clenched and unclenched reflexively.

  He sat with the rest of the Oro entourage near the door, the small Daimyo sitting directly at the head.

  He cleared his throat and started talking, "Brothers! Sons!"

  And Tset ignored him, ignored everything in fact, except when Yoto started to name all the assassins off, he did pick up a few of those.

  He took a second to switch on a small digital recorder with a room mike, and, in glancing around, noticed one of them, directly across the narrow table, was smiling at Jacqueline.

  The subject came around to him again before he had time to do much evaluation, "This is Dargent." Tset had sense enough to nod.

  "And that is the Chrome Magnum."

  "Hai!"

  Tset was bemused, and jonesing for another cigarette, so when the Chrome Magnum shouted, his spiked-out hair waving like fine bristles, a foot from his head in places, perfectly permed, and the buckles on his ludicrous greatcoat clinking, Tset snorted a laugh.

  Jacqueline looked up from her Nora Roberts novel. And everyone else was silent, staring at him.

  Except Chrome, who was glaring.

  Jacqueline pulled his shoulder down and whispered to him quickly, "Chrome's a top-class Japanese assassin. He's been with the Yakuza for years, and they call him 'the Chrome Magnum' because the only weapon he ever uses is a nickel-plated .357, extended barrel, scope. He snipes with it! Be careful!"

  Tset grinned down at her, now enjoying himself. He patted her head and looked to Chrome.

  "I'm sorry, I can't figure out if you're supposed to be a caveman or a condom."

  A simultaneous intake of breath by everyone living.

  Chrome was rock steady as he reached under his coat and unclipped the snap that could be for only one thing.

  The glinting polish of his gun was somewhat impressive. He laid it on the table in front of him with a clatter.

  Tset glanced at it, but did not touch, "What's that? A Mitsubishi? We let Smith & Wesson make our maggies. And this..." Tset reached under his jacket and produced one of his two 1911s. "American made, man. Colt." It clunked against the tabletop, the solid build of the gun made its impact.

  Chrome was grinning, "Smah-luh." His accent was thick.

  "Yup, but now we know who needs to compensate, right, Shao-Pei?"

  Jacqueline was the only one to understand the joke, she put a hand to her mouth with a gasp and simply looked shocked. She hissed inaudibly, "What are you doing?"

  Chrome's eyes flicked from Jacqueline's reaction back to the grinning face of the idiot.

  "Dargent!" That was Yoto.

  Tset looked over, "Yes?"

  "What are you trying to accomplish?"

  "Excuse me, sir, this is a professional bullshit session where I come from, quite common."

  "Tossing insults like children?"

  Tset shrugged, "Sometimes, to get a feeling for the other guy you might want to check his armor for chinks, o'course, I never toss insults, mine are targeted, so whether or not Cro-Magnon man here got the compensate joke, eh, I'm happy."

  "So you are finished?"

  "For sure."

  And Tset zoned back out while Yoto talked.

  Chrome was watching Dargent and Jacqueline, and Jacqueline's eyes peered from above the tabletop at him. He smiled. His own personal goals rested with that girl and this new European would get in his way. Especially with how fiercely Jacqueline obviously felt about the lummox.

  After about another twenty minutes of talking, the group dispersed. Yoto held Tset aside, "Dargent, do not embarass me." He was not angry, just admonishing.

  "What are you talking about?" Tset was going to light the stick already in his mouth.

  "You are a barbarian, you must be careful. Especially with someone like Chrome Magnum."

  An image of a latex neanderthal flashed through Tset's mind, he was altogether sickened, humored and curious as to what sort of ends a caveman of this type might be put.

  Yoto stared at him, "You think it's that funny, do you?"

  Tset had to pull the cigarette out of his mouth when he started to laugh, "I really do. I don't respect him at all. He's a fucking clown. How's he avoid police with hair like that?"

  "You should be weary. It would be wise."

  Tset looked down at his little boss, "Yessir. Thank you." He quelled his giggle fits.

  Yoto turned and left, Tset lighting the wrong end of his cigarette as he followed, before he threw it out and started another.

  Their cars had been pulled around to the back lot. Tset was moving to open Yoto's door when something bumped into him.

  Magnum. Tset saw they stood as tall as one another. Magnum was a big person.

  "Oh, hi Maggie."

  Maggie spit on Tset's shoe, he was enraged and began yelling in Japanese.

  Tset didn't flinch, then Magnum spit on his face and turned to leave.

  'Wrong move.'

  Magnum had no choice but to be wrenched around by his jacket, and it was Tset's turn to speak, rapidly, through his teeth, "You want to fight? You fight, you spit on me again and I don't give a shit. Understand, asshole?"

  Magnum didn't, but did notice his feet didn't touch the ground, and did understand when Tset's forehead slammed into his and he was thrown, by the scruff of his neck, against a car by someone he'd earlier correctly estimated to weigh forty pounds less than he.

  Magnum was somewhat dazed, but when Tset's lit cigarette got caught in his crumpled collar, he was yelling and beating at it.

  By the time he handled the embers against his neck, everyone was climbing into their cars, not wanting to be around if things went down, but all harboring private snickers.

  Interlude

  Chapter Seven: The Death of Jacqueline

  Tset closed the door to his car and realized Yoto had gotten into another, and it was only Tset, a driver and another thug in front. This was the rearguard of the motorcade. He mused; if Magnum tried anything it would be better for Yoto to keep his distance, anyway, in case of cross fire.

  Tset yawned and spread his arms out, bumping someone he somehow had not noticed. Someone small.

  He jolted and looked over, Jacqueline was beaming back a
t him.

  "Oh, hi."

  "Hello."

  Tset was tired and didn't want to talk, so he lay his head back and closed his eyes.

  "I'm impressed."

  "Huh?"

  "The way you took out Magnum."

  "That wasn't taking out, the fucker spit on my face."

  "Well... he was down."

  "No, when he goes down, someone's gonna have to use tweezers to dig tooth fragments out of his fucking brain."

  "Well, I thought it was cool." Jacqueline crossed her arms and looked forward. She felt petulent.

  Tset peeked at her with the corner of his eye, "Thanks." He shut it again when Jacqueline looked over at him somewhat surprised by the attention but also again by the solid black.

  They rode in silence, Jacqueline with her internal struggle, and Tset with a pain in his neck from the shuddering car.

  Curiously, "... What's wrong with your eyes?"

  "Nothin'."

  She took a breath, "Can I see 'em?" Hopeful.

  "No." Closed.

  Their final stop was the base of operations from which Jacqueline would be armed and fired - there were closed-circuit TVs watching the surrounding area and Tset could see in, what he felt, was four dimensions.

  He rubbed the emergent stubble on his chin and glanced around in the security room. A few other Japanese he did not recognize looked to him, then to each other, then to him again.

  The Daimyo entered behind him, "Dargent," He turned, "Are you excited to see Jacqueline worked?"

  "Rephrase that, sir?"

  "Are you interested to see how she operates. It's quite beautiful. Like you, but, more elegant."

  "Sir?"

  "Yes?"

  "May I make my opinion heard?" His voice was flat by suppressed emotion.

  "Surely."

  Tset inhaled and exhaled to keep the rage off his face, "I think that children shouldn't be used for this purpose."

  The Daimyo patted him on the arm as he walked by and was nearly mutilated when he said, "Always looking out for yourself, eh?"