The Lost Kingdom

CHAPTER TWO

Mai Kitano awoke to the sound of deep, thrumming engines. Disorientation overcame her for a moment and then the acute stabbing pain in her stomach brought it all back.

The hotel room. The Yakuza. Hikaru shooting her in the stomach; the second bullet slamming into the carpet by her head. The dragging and the lifting, the intense pain. The knowledge that she never should have left the safety of the suite of rooms provided by the Americans. And Matt Drake?

Damn. She had pushed him away, now look where she was.

A plan had been forming in her mind, a plan to revisit Tokyo and seek out the surviving girl from Hayami’s family. Emiko, wasn’t it? That was her name. Find her and lay all your sins out before her.

She knew now how ridiculous it all sounded. Yes, her primary motives were selfish — she was doing it for her own peace of mind. But… that didn’t stop her needing to do it.

Then the Yakuza changed all that. Hikaru had grown a set, come to DC and confronted her. Granted, the set he’d grown hadn’t allowed him to confront her without an entourage of armed goons, but then why should he?

Mai remembered the agony of being shot in the stomach, the knowledge that such a death was extremely painful. Nevertheless, she would have endured it all night just to keep a certain, special knowledge away from Hikaru.

That Grace had been sleeping in the next room. The Yakuza never found out.

Now, coming to in the gently rolling, malodorous room with a single bare light bulb and cracked wooden shelves; with a no doubt locked metal door and no windows; with a single desk full of papers and small glass bottles and syringes and tubes, Mai Kitano found she couldn’t move more than an inch.

Her arms and legs were strapped to a bed. After a moment she determined that she still wore pants, thankfully, and boots and the tank top she had gone to bed in. The pain of trying to sit up seemed to wrench her stomach apart, making her groan. Somebody had done a decent job down there, removing the bullet and patching her up.

Where the hell am I?

The situation was awkward. Yes, she had been in worse and escaped without a scratch but never with a fresh bullet wound. Ideally, she needed time to heal — even a few days would help.

Not enough.

She knew that and told her inner voice to shut up. The man who had taken her would reveal all, she was confident of that. His egotism ensured it. All she had to do was get better until he did.

Again she lifted her head as much as she was able, fighting the pain. Beyond her feet stood a medicine cabinet and beside that a drinks globe. Interesting set-up. Boxes were piled in one corner of the room, some torn open to reveal such diverse items as bandages, condoms, bottled water and designer aftershave.

The door rattled, opened and a man walked in. Mai saw instantly that he was Japanese, grubby and worn down.

“Ah, you are awake. I will fetch water.”

Mai sipped for a while and then said. “Where am I?”

“On board the Genkai Hida.”

He spoke with such matter-of-factness that Mai wondered if she’d been told before and forgotten.

“And we’re bound for…?”

“You are bound for Kobe.” Hikaru’s strong voice came from somewhere beyond her field of vision. “Where else would the infamous Mai Kitano be going?”

Mai understood immediately. Hikaru belonged to Japan’s largest Yakuza organization which, despite being one of the largest criminal entities in the world, had its headquarters in Kobe, Japan. Taking into account Mai’s past exploits against the Yakuza it was a no-brainer to expect that she would be afforded a visit to the center of operations. With over forty thousand members, press-covered invitations for their Kumicho — their leader — from the police to step in as ‘honorary police chief’ for the day, and even an in-house magazine, the Kobe based Yakuza family was universally well connected. It was also highly publicized that they had started a large-scale relief effort after the great Kobe earthquake of 1995, helping with the distribution of food and supplies, something that was vital to the local people since official support was non-existent for several days. And again, after the 2011 earthquake and tsunami, the Yakuza opened its offices to the public and sent out supplies to affected areas. Even CNN were quoted as saying the Yakuza “moved quietly and swiftly to provide aid to those most in need”. Rather than an attempt at glory-seeking, this was more of an honor-code move by the criminal organization. Their members were well acquainted with having to fend for themselves without government aid or community support, valued justice and duty above anything else, and forbade allowing others to suffer.

Mai knew she would see very little of this honor code. She had wronged the Yakuza. They would make her suffer beyond belief.

Hikaru’s face came into view, poised above her. “Doctor Nori here is fixing you up so that we can put you on trial.”

“On trial?” Mai repeated, surprised. “I imagined your bosses would prefer something more low key.”

“Not at all.” Hikaru smiled grimly. “Unfortunately for you and for us, anybody who’s anybody and most of the world’s authorities know how to treat Yakuza.” He held up his left little finger, showing her that the tip was missing. “My transgression cost me. But now — now I have truly atoned.”

“Not yet you haven’t.” Mai stared up at the bare bulb.

“You are not in Washington anymore.” Hikaru grinned. “And you’re wounded. In truth, nobody knows where you are. Do not expect a rescue.”

Mai said nothing. Hikaru was right in at least one respect. Until her wound improved she was going nowhere.

“Why a trial? Even for me it seems a little showy.”

Hikaru shrugged. “It was not my decision. I would have cut you up and fed you to the pigeons. But a showcase trial… and death… is required.”

Now Mai understood. “And you had me thinking I may stand a chance.”

“Make your peace, Mai Kitano. Very soon, the world will see what the Yakuza do to their enemies.”