The Lost Kingdom

CHAPTER TEN

Mai stumbled as the two men lifted her to her feet. As instructed they were gentle, not wanting to rip open her stitches and further complicate her gunshot wound. The antibiotics were helping, as were the painkillers, and Mai could easily stand on her own. Hikaru, though, was taking no chances and, in addition to the two men helping her along, had directed a further four to watch her. Each man held a Taser and a sawn-off baseball bat in addition to the guns and knives in their belts.

Hikaru presented himself to Mai as the ship docked. “Your entourage.” He indicated the assembled men. “I assume they’re to your liking.”

“If I didn’t have this wound they’d already be dead.”

“Agreed, Miss Kitano. That’s precisely why you have that wound.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“Not far. We have made good time. The members are still arriving. I believe your trial may not begin until tomorrow but that is good. It will give you time to prepare your defense.” Hikaru burst into laughter, an arrogant and haughty expression fixed to his face. Mai spent a few seconds fantasizing about slicing it off with a blunt blade.

“I may be down, Hikaru. But I’m never out.”

“We’ll see if you’re still feeling that way in a few days.” Hikaru waved at her captors who urged her forward. Mai shrugged into the loose jeans and sweatshirt she’d been provided to cover her tank top and panties, showing absolutely no signs of pain or embarrassment as she dressed. Weakness was a drug to men like this. They thrived on it.

“Follow me.” Hikaru led the way to the top deck, slowing to allow Mai extra time to navigate the stairs, then paused. Mai had her first view of the outside world in what seemed like days. Kobe was a port city, clustered around the coastline, tall buildings and motorways and bridges all lining up as if jostling for the right to sail away first. She stared across the water at a gray metropolis, at a place even she could get lost in, never to be found.

“Move.”

Mai followed Hikaru’s lead, and exited the ship’s interior. What felt like a knife jabbed at the pit of her stomach — the wound stretching before it should — but she fought hard to keep the pain out of her expression, instead raising her face and gauging the horizon.

My future lies there, she thought. Never forget it.

Five men spread out behind her and now, as she looked over the side of the ship, Mai saw half a dozen more waiting on the docks below. The ship was already moored, a gangway fed out to the dockside. Two black cars sat among the men, doors thrown open.

“Kobe has been waiting for you,” Hikaru told her with self-seeking pride. “But it is I who have delivered.” He spread his arms. “I.”

Mai gave him a hooded-eye frown. “Understand this, Hikaru.” She moved closer. “Get your bucket list filled, boy, because I will kill you over the next few days.”

Hikaru smiled quickly, not wanting to portray any fear, but the twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed him. “Just get off the damn ship.”

Mai walked down the jouncing gangway and onto solid earth. This was a quiet area, she noticed, probably cordoned off somewhere and belonging to the localized Yakuza yobs. Being Japanese, her own view of the Yakuza was a mixed one — yes their story was romanticized, they came from all walks of life but some had actually been abandoned or exiled by their parents, taken in by the clan. Mai could identity with that. Some were taken straight from Junior High. But most were common street thugs or members of other gangs. A Yakuza gang member cut all family ties, forever. They transferred their lives and their loyalties to their boss, and they referred to each other as family members. Their boss was often called “father”. Mai could also identify with that; a youth abandoned or forced by siblings into a life of street crime would be crying out for a strong father figure and a protective family — the Yakuza would give him that.

It was their other activities that Mai could not condone. The criminal element. The power mongering that should not exist in any close family. She stared now at the grim-faced, emotionless men who awaited her, wondering who they could have been.

Guns were evident, held in every hand, even portable machine pistols. She entered the car they indicated and waited for it to drive away. No words were passed and Hikaru took the second car. Waves of pain washed through her body, making her want to lay her head against the window and close her eyes. But this wasn’t the time. Fighting was all she knew how to do; for a long time now it had been the sole focus of her life.

Fight now.

Had she originally believed that a life with Drake might somehow take all the struggle away? Or was he a convenient harbor in the storm; a lifeline? One thing was certain — he had helped neutralize the pain. Perhaps he could do so again.

But first there was the Yakuza to contend with and, more importantly, the issue of the man she had killed and his surviving daughter, Emiko. What was the answer there? Yes, guilt swamped her but surely it would do no good to seek out the girl and confess.

I can’t just let it go.

As the car started moving Mai found her thoughts turning deeper, more twisted, as she looked inward. The past could never be altered, but the future? It could be shaped, changed; amends could be made. But how?

Kobe passed her by, its main thoroughfares clogged with traffic and pedestrians. If anyone thought the two-car parade that headed away from the docks odd they didn’t show it. Not a head was turned. Twice she noted policemen standing near traffic lights when the car slowed, but she was too savvy to seek their assistance. If they were Yakuza owned she would only make matters worse and if they were unsullied she would get them killed. Her mind flashed quickly then, becoming more responsive as drugs and painkillers wore off, and wondered how the SPEAR team would plan their approach. No doubts existed that they would attack the Yakuza. It was all a matter of when… and how.

Analyze the compound first, she thought. And I should do the same.

Kobe flashed by, the driver taking a well-known route. The men around her didn’t engage eye contact; they sat alert and watchful as if always expecting an attack. And maybe they did. Mai knew that Kobe was one of the safest places in Japan so surely, with a kind of perverse logic, it would make the Yakuza stronghold less well guarded. Very soon she would be testing that theory.

Each street appeared similar to the last, but Mai kept the route in her head, memorizing street names where she could. The Yakuza headquarters was more than obvious to her when it appeared out of the gray, monotonous dirge — a smoked-glass-fronted high rise with wide spaces all around the first floor entrance and many black-suited men stood about. In Kobe the Yakuza didn’t have to hide — everyone knew where they lived. Mai counted thirty floors before the building grew too close to continue and saw a smooth, peaked roof, clearly deliberate since the others around it were flat. Even Yorgi would have a hard time up there. More features lodged in her mind — the black windows that stood fully flushed with the brick walls, the lack of balconies and ledges, the positioning of the guards. Soon, the cars pulled up outside the building and everyone climbed out. Mai found herself entering the headquarters of her arch nemesis under a twelve-man shield.

Inside, the lobby was surprisingly small, no doubt designed that way. Glass formed partitions and walls everywhere. Mai could imagine the guns bristling on the other side of the two-way mirrors.

A sparse front desk, several women working the phones and computers — the first she had seen — and then a cramped trip in a highly polished elevator. Unsurprisingly it was down she went, into the bowels of the earth, even though the buttons only went in ascent from one to thirty five. Mai couldn’t help but turn a wry smile upon her closest guard.

“Got that tip from the CIA? Or Hollywood?”

With no answer forthcoming she caught her reflection in the walls. Not good. She looked exhausted, white and ill. Hikaru, to her right, noticed and nodded.

“Don’t worry. We’ll fix you up for your trial.” He mimicked injecting her with a needle. “Best cocktail you ever had.”

Mai looked up at the roof, seeing at least the fiftieth CCTV camera so far. She badly needed to heal in order to take charge. They weren’t going to give her that chance. And in this city she was isolated beyond belief. Yakuza here wore expensive suits, operated from offices like this and carried business cards. She found it odd that the trial would take place here and not at the walled compound in one of the wealthiest areas of Kobe, but perhaps with the arrival of so many significant Yakuza figures the office building could be better protected. It could obviously house more men.

Several floors down, she knew not how many, the elevator stopped and the doors glided open. A man in a doctor’s robe sat waiting for her. He took one look at her form and rose quickly.

“More antibiotics,” he said. “Before she gets locked away for the day. Otherwise you might have nobody to put on trial at all.”