The Samurai Inheritance

XXXIV

‘This is too quiet.’ Jamie studied the street around him. ‘We need to find somewhere with a lot more people and quickly.’

‘If you don’t want to attract attention you’d better get rid of that.’ Magda pointed to his jacket, caked with what, even in the light from the street lamps, was obviously blood. He slipped the rucksack to her and unzipped the gory evidence, rolled it into a ball and pushed it under a bush in a little ornamental garden.

The sound of squealing tyres alerted them and Jamie instinctively took the first turn they came to. It led to a poorly lit alley and he wondered if he’d made a mistake. He didn’t have time to worry because moments later a car drove slowly past the entrance. They ducked into a doorway before they could be seen and the vehicle moved on. Jamie would have stepped back out into the alley if Magda hadn’t clutched him by the arm. ‘Hang on,’ she hissed. ‘I thought I heard a car door.’

They waited, hoping against hope she was wrong, but knowing she wasn’t. An indistinct shadow appeared at the far end and began to move warily towards them and they pressed further back into the doorway. ‘Shit,’ Jamie said under his breath. Two thoughts clawed their way through the panic that set his heart thundering. The first that the man was certainly carrying a gun. The second that Jamie also had one, but he didn’t feel like shooting anybody else today. On the plus side, the Yakuza foot soldier was alone, and therefore vulnerable, but that wasn’t likely to last for long. Jamie slipped the rucksack from his shoulders and unzipped it one notch at a time.

He put his mouth directly to Magda’s ear. ‘Get down low.’ He felt her nod and obediently drop to a crouch. A man searching the darkness couldn’t afford to look everywhere without making himself as vulnerable as his quarry, so he tended to cover his bets by looking at waist height. The closer to the ground they were the less likely to be seen. Jamie fumbled inside the body of the rucksack and recoiled as his fingers touched something leathery covered with hair. He tried again and found the neck of the hammer, but he discovered that the thought of bashing someone’s head in with a hammer was even less attractive than shooting them. He delved a little deeper hoping to find the pepper spray before he remembered it was still in his jacket pocket and now nestling beside a plastic bag of McDonald’s leftovers.

He had the option to let the gangster walk past, but, even if he didn’t see them, they’d still be trapped in a district that would soon be flooded with Yakuza. The hammer or the pistol then. He made his decision. As he crouched down beside Magda his foot brushed something that emitted a tiny rattle and he suppressed a curse. All it would take was one sound. Their pursuer was less than fifty paces away and Jamie felt Magda tense against him. He gripped the handle of the hammer in two hands, then changed his mind. With his right hand he groped for the beer or soda can and picked it up. Forty paces. Not yet. Thirty. Wait. Twenty. Now!

With a flick of his wrist he threw the can so it clattered across the concrete about thirty feet ahead. The gangster shouted something and Jamie heard the sound of running feet. When the approaching shadow appeared in the corner of his eye he waited another second before rising silently to his feet. The running man had a pistol in his outstretched hand when Jamie came from nowhere and brought the head of the hammer down with bone-breaking force on his wrist. Jamie felt a surge of relief as his victim gave a grunt of agony and the gun dropped with a clatter on to the concrete.

He’d gambled on the pain paralysing his victim long enough to allow him a second, knockout blow. Almost any other man would have been put out of action, but this one stepped in close to thwart the follow-up strike and simultaneously slammed a left hook under the Englishman’s ribs that gave a new meaning to the word pain. In the same movement the Yakuza brought his right foot round in some sort of jujitsu move that swept the legs from under his opponent. Stunned by the speed of the reaction Jamie had no defence as the gangster followed up with a body slam that crushed the breath out of him.

Too late he discovered his target was the slab-sided Korean who’d ‘welcomed’ them to the Dragon Lady’s concrete castle the previous morning. So much for being bloody squeamish. In desperation he tried to bring the hammer round to smash the man’s back and ribs, but the body on top of him was so bulky it was impossible to get the angle for a telling blow. Instead, the Korean was able to push Jamie’s arm backwards and he felt fingers as powerful as an industrial vice close over his wrist, working the bone like a terrier’s jaws until he dropped the hammer. At the same time a granite skull battered down in a brutal headbutt that would have smashed half the bones in Jamie’s face if he hadn’t managed to twist away. He felt the rasp of the Korean’s stubble on his cheek and the pungent scent of his aftershave filled his nostrils. If he couldn’t think of something quickly it would be the last thing he’d ever smell.

The weight and the strength of his opponent were unbelievable. As the Korean’s head rose for a second butt Jamie clawed desperately at the moon face, his fingers raking the deep-set dark eyes. With a grunt of irritation the Yakuza released his grip on Jamie’s wrist, bringing both hands to the Englishman’s throat. There was a moment’s confused hesitation as he contemplated his dangling right wrist, but it didn’t last and the claw-like fingers of the left hand closed on Jamie’s windpipe. Jamie scrabbled desperately at his killer’s arm in a futile attempt to break the grip, but it was impossible. He heard the sound of a rook cawing and realized distantly that it was the sound of his own death.

As his vision began to blur a snarling figure launched itself at the Korean accompanied by a stream of obscene oaths. Jamie had a fleeting thought that Magda Ross must have had a more chequered upbringing than he’d realized, before the Yakuza swiped her aside with a sweep of his right arm. The only benefit of her attack was a fleeting reduction of the pressure on Jamie’s throat that allowed him to take in a last whooping breath. When the world turned red and the screaming started he thought someone had opened the gates of Hell.

What seemed a lifetime later he heard Magda’s voice in his ear urging him to get up. He tried to raise himself on his elbows but it felt as if someone had tried to tear his head from his shoulders. It honestly didn’t seem the best idea, but she was very insistent.

Hands hauled at his shirt. ‘Jamie, we have to get out of here. They’ll be back.’

Reluctantly he tried again, and with her help he staggered to the nearest wall where he could recover his breath. For the first time he noticed the Korean lying on his back in the middle of the alley with a dark shadow covering the upper half of his face.

‘I hit him on the head with the hammer,’ she said by way of explanation. ‘I couldn’t think of anything else to do.’

‘Good idea,’ he said. ‘I wish I’d thought of that.’ He had a moment of recollection. ‘What was the red light I saw?’

She held up a blackened cardboard tube. ‘I needed to get his attention first. I think it’s called a Roman candle.’

When they reached the street Magda did what she could to dust him down and get rid of the nameless filth from his clothing. It was worth a try, but he knew from the way she scowled at him that he still looked like something from a Zombie movie. Still there was no help for it. After fifteen minutes of cautious searching they found a place where the bars were still open and they could get a taxi. As they waited in the queue Jamie went over their options.

‘I don’t see how we can go back to the hotel. The chances are they’re already waiting for us.’

‘All right,’ she agreed immediately, and he wondered how many other women would abandon all their clothing and jewellery so readily. ‘So we head straight to the airport? Only they could be waiting for us there too.’

‘That’s true, which is why we won’t go there directly.’

After a tense wait they got in the back of the green and yellow taxi. ‘Tell him to take us to the ferry terminal down at the port. It’s the last thing they’ll expect,’ he explained. ‘We’ll book a cabin on the first sailing to Okinawa. From there we can get the earliest flight out of Naha airport to Hong Kong or Taiwan and we’re home free.’

She passed on the instructions and the driver pulled out into the late-night traffic. Every bone in Jamie’s body ached and exhaustion threatened to overwhelm him, but he knew he had to stay awake. Little images of horrors that were and worse horrors that might have been flitted through his head. He frowned as he remembered the piece of business that couldn’t be ignored.

‘All right,’ he turned to Magda, ‘I know you’ve been waiting for me to ask. Who’s the mystery man with the blond bob?’ He nodded to the rucksack that sat between them.

‘My grandfather.’

Why wasn’t he surprised?

‘And you knew he was there all the time?’

‘No.’ There was a challenge in her eyes as she turned to meet his gaze. ‘But I had to find out. It’s a long story.’

Jamie was conscious of the driver’s eyes on them in the rear-view mirror and he lowered his voice. ‘Tell me. We have all the time in the world.’

‘His name was Johannes Rudiger and he was a pastor with the Basel Missionary Society in China in the nineteen thirties. When the Japanese attacked Nanking he went there to do what he could to ease the suffering. He was that kind of man. Johannes linked up with a businessman called John Rabe. Rabe was a Nazi who supported Hitler, but he was a good man at heart. Because of the Anti-Comintern Pact between the Third Reich and Japan, he had some influence with the Japanese commanders. He managed to set up safe zones for westerners and some Chinese civilians.’ She had begun the story forcefully, but now she hesitated and he registered the catch in her voice. ‘The zones … the zones were mainly successful — they managed to save about two hundred thousand people — but individual Japanese units violated the agreement. They’d claim bandits were operating in a certain section and carry off hundreds, sometimes thousands, of innocents to be executed, or raped and then killed in ways too sickening to describe. One of the worst perpetrators was a battalion led by a Major Yoshitaki.’

Light danced across her face from the garishly lit skyscrapers with their metres-high adverts for computers and photocopiers; in their glow Jamie could see the tears shining on Magda’s cheeks. He wanted to hold her, but somehow he knew it would be wrong.

‘I was always told my grandfather had simply disappeared in China.’ Magda’s voice found new strength as if she was defying the past. ‘Everyone in the family accepted that story, except me. Nothing just vanishes. Not things. Not people. There’s always evidence. I read everything I could about Nanking and the Japanese occupation and what I learned almost drove me mad. I was on the point of giving up when Rabe’s surviving relative allowed me access to his letters and a memoir he’d written, but never published. Rabe said Yoshitaki would permit his soldiers freedom to rape and plunder, and personally select their victims. The German’s protests were ignored and finally he asked Johannes to remonstrate with the Japanese commander. He never returned, but a witness testified that he had seen Yoshitaki himself taking my grandfather away under guard after he’d tried to stop his men burying a group of Chinese civilians alive.’

She paused and once again Jamie caught the driver’s eyes on them in the rear-view mirror. He wondered if the curiosity was concern for a passenger’s welfare or something more sinister.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I still don’t see how believing you knew what happened in Nanking in ’thirty-seven prompted you to come along with me. Especially when there was no way you could have known your grandfather’s, er, remains even existed.’

‘It wasn’t about his remains.’ The dark eyes shone as if they were on fire. ‘I knew about Yoshitaki’s obscene competition to behead a hundred people and I learned about his trip to Berlin through Uli. After China he served in the Solomon Islands and I wasn’t even certain he’d survived the war.’ She shook her head. ‘When you came to a museum and asked about the Bougainville head it was as if a vital piece of the jigsaw of my life had fallen into place. I could never have afforded to go to Tokyo even if I’d known where Yoshitaki’s descendants live. What better way than to accompany Jamie Saintclair on his mad quest for an obsessed mining tycoon.’ She wiped a hand over her eyes. ‘Ever since I learned how Johannes died I’ve been desperate to find out why. He was thirty years old. My grandmother was only twenty. She would have joined him in Nanking, but for the fighting, and the fact she was pregnant. I wanted to know what kind of person could do such a thing to such a courageous and compassionate man. Well, I had my answer when I saw the look in that woman’s eyes when she stood over you with that bloody awful sword.’

‘All right.’ Jamie suppressed a shiver as he relived the kiss of the blade on his neck. ‘I accept that, but I’m still curious. If you knew all along that the answers lay in Tokyo, why did you let me go gallivanting around Russia?’

Magda hesitated as a police car flashed past in the opposite direction, intermittently lighting up the interior of the taxi. By now they were crossing the city’s famous Rainbow Bridge and the lights of the towers were reflected in the dark waters of the bay. He saw a moment of confusion in her eyes.

‘I couldn’t know, Jamie, not for certain, but I believed. But how could I divert you? When you got the call to go to Russia instead of Japan I could hardly stand up and shout, “No!” You’d have thought I was mad, or worse trying to sabotage your mission. No, you had to go to Russia, for your own peace of mind, if nothing else.’

He couldn’t help smiling. It was difficult to equate what had happened in Moscow and Siberia with peace of mind. ‘And now?’

‘Now,’ she said decisively, ‘I’ll take my grandfather home and lay him to rest, but first …’ Jamie opened his mouth to protest, but she silenced him with a finger on his lips. ‘No, Jamie, no arguments this time. You’ve helped me do what I needed to do. Now I’ll help you. Whatever it takes.’

He stared at her for a long moment, taking in the determined line of her jaw and the certainty in her eyes. She was right, he couldn’t do it alone, and there were worse things than going into a fight with Magda Ross at your back. ‘Okay,’ he agreed. ‘But you do exactly what I tell you this time. No little freelance jaunts into no man’s land.’

‘Guide’s honour.’ She smiled.

The car slowed as they reached the man-made island the Ariane ferry terminal shared with the Odaiba Marine Park. When they reached the terminal building, Jamie paid off the driver while Magda went inside to check the sailing schedules.

She met him in the doorway. ‘I don’t think this will work, Jamie. The first sailing to Okinawa isn’t for another two days. Maybe we should try somewhere else?’

‘Don’t worry,’ he reassured her. ‘I’ll fix it. You keep an eye on our friend there.’ He nodded to where the driver was still counting his money.

He went to the ‘A’ Line desk, where a girl in a red and white uniform cheerfully booked him a first-class two-bed cabin for the Thursday sailing and charged him fifty thousand yen of Keith Devlin’s dwindling cash for the pleasure. The transaction completed he went to the side door furthest away from the official taxis and was pleased to see his hunch was correct. Before joining Magda at the door he withdrew the maximum amount possible on Devlin’s credit card from one of a bank of ATM cash machines.

‘Well?’

‘He’s been on the phone ever since you left. He seems quite agitated and he keeps looking in this direction.’

‘Good.’

‘Good? It means they know where we are.’

‘No. It means they think they know where we are. Let’s go.’ He led her to the side door and out into the chill air, wishing he still had the jacket he’d started the night with. About fifteen cars of varying age, manufacture and state of preservation were parked along the road with their drivers smoking or chatting beside them. As they walked towards the line of unofficial taxis the drivers came forward smiling and offering their prices in pidgin English. ‘Tell them no thanks.’ Jamie grinned. ‘We want that one.’ He pointed to an ancient grey Honda in the centre of the line. A young man leaned against the bodywork wearing a New York Mets baseball jacket and a Yankees cap.

Magda managed a smile as she fobbed off the other drivers and pointed to the Honda, whose young driver was as surprised as anyone at their choice. The other men laughed and took the decision in good humour.

‘What are they saying?’ Jamie asked.

‘That Kaichi will have us pushing his chariot before we get where we’re going.’

‘Let’s hope not.’

They got in the back of the car, placing the rucksack and Magda’s bag between them. ‘Ask him how much it will be to take us to the airport and when he tells you, offer him twice as much if he can get us there in twenty minutes.’ When he heard the terms the young man grinned and saluted. ‘Yes, sah.’

‘But there’s no hurry until we get out of the terminal gates.’

Magda’s request was received with a shrug. They pulled out past the line of cabs and turned the corner to pass the main door of the terminal. Jamie saw the first taxi driver still talking on the phone. ‘Kiss me,’ he said.

‘What?’

‘Kiss me.’ He pulled her down so their faces were below the level of the window.

‘I think that’s enough, Mr Saintclair.’ Magda pulled herself away with a wry look after they’d travelled a hundred metres. ‘Wouldn’t it have been perfectly acceptable just to hide below the door sill?’

‘No.’ Jamie grinned. ‘It had to look authentic.’

She punched him on the arm and the taxi driver leered in the rear-view mirror and said something that was neither English nor Japanese.

‘What did he say?’

‘I think he told us to get a room.’

For the first time in hours they were able to relax and sit back as the driver chain-smoked cigarettes and listened to what sounded like a snooker match as he weaved through the traffic. Magda asked if they could open a window and as she held the driver’s attention Jamie pushed the hammer and pliers under the front seat and surreptitiously dropped the guns out on to the road. They were passing the Wangan Road freight terminal and approaching the Haneda tunnel when Jamie’s mobile phone began to chirp. He checked the caller ID and before he refused the call Magda saw Keith Devlin’s name on the screen.

‘What was all that about?’

‘I think I’ve had enough of Keith Devlin pulling the strings. We have the Bougainville head and if he wants it that much he’s going to have to prove it.’

‘What do you have in mind,’ she said sweetly, ‘or are you going to surprise me again?’

‘Ask our friend here how much he wants for his jacket and cap.’

They entered the airport terminal building at Haneda separately and by different doors. Jamie had the driver drop him off just short of the entrance and told Magda to stay in the car until the last possible moment. When he entered the terminal he marched in, trying to look as if he owned the place, the way Americans of his acquaintance had a habit of doing. He chewed imaginary gum, kept his head up and his chest out. As well as the cap and jacket, their new friend had entered into the spirit of things by insisting Jamie take a pair of spectacles left in the car by a fare. It meant he had to peer in order to read anything, but the gesture and the broad-rimmed glasses aged him and added to the disguise. He headed for the escalator and took it up to international departures on the third floor. At the periphery of his vision he saw Magda attach herself to a group of Caucasians laden with luggage. He watched admiringly as she insisted on helping carry some of the smaller bags to the check-in area. While she stood among them Jamie made for the Cathay Pacific ticket desk. The departure board said the airline’s next flight to Hong Kong was due to board in three hours.

‘Two first-class tickets on the Hong Kong flight,’ he requested. The beautiful girl on the desk frowned. ‘It is a little short notice, sir, but of course we will do our best.’ Jamie waited, trying not to fidget while she checked her computer. The frown deepened, she chewed her lip, found a solution, and her face relaxed as she smiled. ‘You are fortunate we had a late cancellation and that poor passenger MacDonald who believes he is being upgraded will now find himself back in Business. Do you have any luggage to check in? No? Then have a good flight, Mr Saintclair.’ She handed over the tickets.

As he set off back towards the check-in desks Jamie noticed four Japanese men — standing in two pairs — studying passengers heading for the security gates. From time to time they’d glance down at something in their hands, presumably photographs taken by the video cameras at the Dragon Lady’s house. Jamie had intended they go through security separately, but the Yakuza seemed to have concentrated their watchers on the main security gate. The way they were deployed hinted they were there to snatch their quarry, not to kill, which meant Magda would be more vulnerable alone. He made his decision and went directly to her.

‘Stay close and don’t look anybody in the eye,’ he whispered.

He handed her the second ticket and steered her towards the almost empty priority line for First and Business Class passengers. Their passports were in a side pocket of the rucksack and he retrieved them as he reached the gate, with the scanners beyond. Would the scanners show the heads for what they were, or just a couple of shapeless objects? Magda must have had the same thought because as she was ushered through she cast a nervous glance back towards the watching men. The movement drew the attention of the man nearest them and his eyes leaped between the face that swam into his vision and the picture in his hand. By the time he’d made up his mind they were out of sight, but Jamie heard a quick-fire burst of Japanese that signalled they’d been spotted.

‘We’re not out of it yet,’ he told her. ‘The chances are they’ll have someone inside too. This way.’ Magda followed him down through the avenues of shops, bars and cafes until they narrowed into a corridor that led towards the main boarding gates. Dozens of men and women talking on phones, but none yet with the tense watchfulness that would spell danger. Suddenly, at the far end of the corridor, Jamie noticed someone who didn’t fit the pattern.

‘Keep your head down,’ he hissed.

The man was fifty paces away, talking into his phone and unashamedly studying every white face he encountered. Another few strides and he couldn’t fail to see them.

‘This way, honey.’ Jamie politely steered Magda to the right where, with a flourish of their tickets, they were ushered into the sanctuary of the First Class lounge. They were safe. For now.