Blood Vengeance

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

Mai Kitano turned her back on the small picturesque bridge where she had met Gyuki only when she was sure the master assassin had left the area. She made her way warily out of the park and around to the prearranged meeting point with Dai Hibiki. The terse little Japanese agent was waiting for her and spoke as soon as she approached the open window of his car.

“What did he say?”

Mai waited until she had climbed into the front seat and sat down. She remained suspicious. The parking area was very public, jam-packed with dog-walkers, shoppers and people on their lunch breaks, but such manic activity could just as easily hide a tail as reveal one.

“They have my parents. They won’t let me go, Dai.”

Her friend gripped the bridge of his nose. “Your parents? Good God. Even Chika doesn’t know where they are.”

“Chika disowned them when she found out what they had done to me. That decision only piled one more heartbreak upon them. It doesn’t matter why or how, it only matters now that the Clan have them.”

“Where?”

“Their village.” Mai shrugged. “I have no idea where it is.”

“But you do have a plan?”

“Yes and no.” Mai sighed. “It’s not only my parents they are threatening. It’s Chika, and you. And me. If I follow my plan to the end, a lot of people will get hurt, and not all of them deservedly.”

“This may help.” Hibiki switched the car’s radio on. A news channel, NHK World Radio Japan, was reporting that the President of the United States had been abducted and played a recording of Dmitry Kovalenko’s challenge. Mai stared through the car’s windscreen and into the middle distance, unseeing.

“I should be there. It is bad enough that I do not know the fate of all my friends. Now, they also have to deal with this.”

Hibiki squeezed her shoulder. “There is no shame in fighting here too. You are still fighting for your family and friends.”

Mai nodded. “You’re right. My fear is unfounded.” She put a hand out and patted his knee. “Be careful, my friend. Keep Chika safe and look after yourself.”

Hibiki scowled. “What does that mean? Surely you can’t—”

“I’m doing this alone.” Mai said quietly and forcefully. “For one, you need deniability. And more, I need you with Chika. If this goes down the way I see it… you may never see me again, Dai.”

Hibiki swallowed hard but said nothing.

Mai reached for the door catch, still clutching the file Gyuki had given her and already planning her next move. She paused as Hibiki began to speak.

“I remember you,” he said softly. “From the first few months around the office to that damn Coscon where you took out the whole of the local Yakuza. I was there, I know, and I helped, but you came through, Mai. You took the risks, you stole the show. Deservedly, you became a legend.”

“Thank you.”

“That damn costume,” he chuckled. “When you walked into the station dressed in that cosplay outfit there wasn’t a stick of work done for a whole six minutes. And even when you were kicking the Yakuza from here to hell and back, not one of them knew whether to worship, fight or photograph you. An honorable respectful real-life super hero.”

Mai cracked open the door.

“Whatever you have to do,” Hibiki said to her back. “Make it moral and honorable, and make it count.”

Mai travelled by taxi to Tokyo Bay, ignoring the file Gyuki had provided, instead gazing through the grimy window at the busy sidewalks and streets she knew so well. Barely an inch of road was visible beneath the myriad buses, cars, bicycles and minivans which flew in all directions. Trees lined the streets, masses of scooters parked beneath their overhanging branches. Long, colorful banners hung down the side of every shop front and from the buildings above, advertising everything from sex to sushi. The noise was filtered by the closed window, but Mai’s ears still reverberated from the din outside. The taxi driver had the radio tuned into NHK so Mai asked him to turn it up.

“No further details at this point, though it is known that Vice President Dolan is currently in crisis talks with the Joint Chiefs and members of the Cabinet. To recap, the YouTube broadcast by the man known as the Blood King, Dmitry Kovalenko, subsequently removed, is thought to be genuine. We—”

Mai tuned out, her thoughts with Drake and the rest of the team. By the time the taxi had threaded its way over to Tokyo Bay, her calm center was anything but. Of all the times for something so critical to happen…

Mai comforted herself with the knowledge that she had been able to save Chika, and that Hibiki too was safe. She paid the taxi driver and stepped out into a stiff Tokyo breeze blowing in across the bay. A tiny coffee shop stood forlornly on a nearby corner, scruffy tables and chairs, and indeed the entire trashy façade, in need of enhancement, but offering just the kind of anonymity Mai needed. She paid for a bottle of water and sat down, opening the file. An initial glance had already told her where her target was likely to be for the next three hours. Now it was time to read and digest the rest.

Akio Hayami was a local businessman, chiefly an accountant, who laundered money for the Clan. They wanted rid of him because of ‘anomalies’. It was that simple, except Mai knew it would be anything but. The Clan would not furnish her with the full picture, only with what they thought was in their own interests. The Clan would never change for the better.

Mai read the information, scrutinizing every last detail of the man, Hayami. On paper, he looked guilty, just as much a criminal as most of the inmates of Fuchu, but Mai held her judgment. The problem was, what other choice did she have? The job, according to the file, was to isolate Hayami and make him ‘disappear’. That was it. No questioning, no investigation. They were, quite simply, ordering her to commit murder.

Mai sat back, casting her gaze across the bay. Blue water rolled and undulated out there, the wave tops caught by the sun and made to glitter. White yachts dotted its surface, tacking into the wind. Closer at hand, dozens of various-sized vessels lay at rest, tied up to the nearest dock. Hayami would be on one of these, alone, working for the Clan. Mai cast her own eye down the figures. Hayami was well paid for his work. If he was cooking the books, he was a greedy, stupid man who probably deserved all he got. But then, he was helping one of the most ruthlessly efficient and murderous groups in the world. Mai wondered if Hayami even knew what they did to survive. He was not one of their vicious bunch, and was far removed from their terrifyingly bloodthirsty inner circle. Did he deserve to die?

Mai put her morals aside. What choice do I have? The only way into their village was with Gyuki, and the only way to fool Gyuki was not to fool him at all. She had to go through with this.

Mai finished the last of her water and rose, eyeing the slips where yachts were docked. Signage told her that Hayami’s boat was moored behind the coffee shop to the right, and her careful surveillance of that area whilst drinking the water told her that only one CCTV stanchion overlooked it. Mai wandered warily over, eyeing the camera and trailing wire as she approached. The coaxial cable dangled loose and flapped intermittently against the metal stanchion. Mai leaned against it, pretending to look through her mobile, and quickly cut through the wires with a small foldaway knife.

One thing about the advent of mobile phones, she reflected, They make loitering around appear so much more authentic.

She continued along the dock, unsure how quickly the guards would respond, if indeed there were any live guards and the whole thing wasn’t run by automaton. Hayami’s yacht swayed and swelled a little way down, gleaming white under the lowering late-afternoon sun. The deck was empty, but she thought she could spy lights on inside. She cast about, seeing no signs of anyone but figures in the distance. Gyuki, she was sure, would be somewhere around, but she held out little hope of being able to spot him.

Mai walked down the slip alongside the yacht, secured the file, and pulled herself aboard. Without sound she padded toward the back of the boat, careful to stay low and cast no shadows across the wide windows. At one point she ended up crawling, but eventually came around a blind corner and saw the rear sliding doors standing slightly open. To her right, a winding staircase led to the upper deck. Mai crawled forward, waiting behind a conveniently located potted plant, and tried to peer through the smoked glass. Beyond the doors was a small aft deck, dominated by an eight-sided table, more flowers and a small leather sofa. If Mai’s yacht knowledge was any good, the doors beyond the aft deck would lead to the saloon and wet bar. Hayami probably liked to drown his sorrows in there while working for bad men.

Quickly, she slipped through the smoked-glass doors and skirted the polished table. Through the second set of doors, she discerned the bright glow of a computer screen and the shadow of a man sitting in front of it. The man’s head was bowed, held between both hands, and the crystal tumbler at his side was empty but for a few cubes of ice.

Mai cracked the last set of doors, poised in case they made any sound, mindful that the Clan may even have devised this scenario as an elaborate trap. The fastest way out was by following a chair through one of the side windows and out into the bay, but no one stepped forward.

Mai advanced all the way until she could almost touch Hayami on the shoulder. She paused, riddled with doubt, but there was no going back now. She prepared to punch one of the nerve clusters at the base of Hayami’s neck, took a breath, and then paused.

The file had not mentioned children.

Nestled beside Hayami’s computer, inside a tiny silver frame, sat a photo of the man and two teenagers. The resemblance was undeniable. Hayami swung around at that point, perhaps sensing her presence or catching a reflection. The man’s eyes were huge.

“Who… who are you?”

“You have children?” Mai remained poised.

“Y… yes. Emiko, my girl, and Jien, my boy.”

“How old are they?” Mai was playing for time, thinking hard.

“Emiko — she is sixteen. Jien is eighteen. Why?”

Hayami raised his hands and stood up slowly. There was nowhere for him to go, and he didn’t even try to conceal his work.

Mai fought to hide her trepidation. “You know why I’m here?”

“The… the Tsugarai?”

Mai felt a rush of distaste at the very mention of the name. For her, it remained unspeakable. “You have angered them.”

“I’ve done nothing wrong!” Hayami looked flustered. “For them, I mean. I clean their money. I don’t even know what they do.”

“Then you should ask more questions,” Mai hissed. “If only to test your conscience. If only to ensure you don’t end up in Hell.”

Hayami’s mouth worked but no sound came forth. Mai set her jaw. “What did you do to anger them?”

“Nothing! I swear, I would never do anything to upset the Tsugarai.”

“I thought you didn’t know what they did. You are lying to me.”

“I don’t. But, the men they send—” Hayami shuddered. “I would not want to upset them.”

Mai studied the man. For the most part she thought he was telling the truth, but Hayami wasn’t being completely honest. If he’d met several clan members he must have guessed they weren’t exactly video game programmers. If he was capable of one lie to her face he was capable of more.

She shook her head. “I don’t believe you.”

She struck and he fell, dead before he hit the floor. All she was left with was utter silence, the gentle sway of the yacht, and the face and eyes of his children, staring almost accusingly from within the confines of their small frame.

Her thoughts turned to Gyuki and the clan village where her parents were being held.