“Sure. Well, he’s a spook, right? So now, Rebecca is digging into this old operation of his. Something called Big Blind. She asked me to go through a bunch of files about it. It’s full of holes, man. Lots of conclusions, lots of supposedly dead people. But no bodies. No evidence. Lots of black marker, you know what I mean?”
Bernatto folded the file in half and slid it into his inner coat pocket. “Is this everything?”
“I mean, that’s all I found on Caine. The Big Blind files are on Rebecca’s office computer.”
Bernatto looked up at the hawk. “Do you know why I picked this spot, Maslin?”
“Old dudes love to walk?” Ethan grinned.
“This island is a sanctuary. A peaceful, idyllic monument to nature.” Bernatto held out his arms and took a deep breath. “But did you know that after the U.S. government took over this island from the Mason family, it was used as one of the first weapons testing sites in America?”
“They didn’t mention that in the brochure.”
The old man smiled and went on. “In the Spanish–American War, they used this island as a testing ground for the electrical ignition of dynamite. For the late 1800s, that was cutting edge weapons tech. Way ahead of its time.”
“Yeah, real bleeding edge.”
“Underneath all this beauty and nature, there’s death and decay,” Bernatto said. “Behind peace, there is war, and blood, and sacrifice. Always.”
Ethan stepped back. “Look, man, that’s all I got. We had a deal so I called you, but I have to get back.”
Bernatto laughed. “Like you said, I’m an old man. I have a taste for history. Indulge me, just for a minute. You see those fieldstones down there? Did you know Mason, the original owner of this island had them imported from Scotland? He said he always wanted his homeland beneath his feet.”
Ethan leaned over the pit. “Really? Seems like a lot of trouble for your basement.”
Bernatto clamped a gloved hand around Ethan’s mouth and slid a black tanto blade knife out of his coat. He thrust the straight, flat blade forward, punching the weapon into Ethan’s struggling body. The young man screamed, but Bernatto’s vise-like grip across his face muffled the sound.
The blow didn’t strike any major organs, but the wound gushed blood, pumped by Ethan’s panicked heart. Bernatto whipped out the blade and placed it along the soft flesh of his victim’s throat. He sliced left to right, then kicked the body forward, into the hole.
There was a loud crack as Ethan’s head struck one of the broken stones. His body rolled over, and his glazed eyes rolled back in their sockets. Blood continued to bubble and flow from the gaping throat.
“George Mason wasn’t Scottish, you idiot,” Bernatto hissed.
He wiped the blade clean on the dirt and pocketed the knife. Then he walked back towards the footbridge that connected the island to the mainland.
As he passed the island plaza and the majestic bronze statue of Teddy Roosevelt pointing towards the sky, he pulled out his cell phone. “Hello? Yes, I need to book a ticket on your first flight out to Pattaya, Thailand.”
Chapter Fifteen
The izakaya pub in Osaka is dark, smoky, and loud. Caine throws back a glass of sake. The rice wine is expensive, and he knows it is a waste to shoot it like cheap tequila. But the Japanese men surrounding him all laugh and cheer. “Banzai!” they shout. Caine laughs and slams the tiny glass down.
The surface of their table is buried in empty glasses, bottles of liquor, and food. Platters of takoyaki octopus balls, tempura, udon noodles, grilled meats ... it is a small feast to celebrate their partnership and the profitable deal he has brought to them.
Isato Yoshizawa sits next to Caine. He’s chosen an expensive navy blue suit and a white silk shirt for the occasion. Most of the gangsters in Caine’s company have shed their jackets and unbuttoned their shirts. But not Isato. He is the oyabun. He commands respect.
Across from them is Koichi, indifferent to the ruckus around him. Caine finds him impossible to read but feels distrust in the old man’s stare. Caine gestures and makes a joke, but the pub is so loud he can’t even hear his own words. Shaking his head, Koichi gets up from the table. Two of his lieutenants stand and follow. He lights up a cigarette and navigates his way through the crowded bar.
Caine leans over to Isato. “I don’t think he likes me.”
The oyabun smiles. “Give him time. Koichi is old-fashioned. He is wary of working with barbarians.”
Caine shrugs and pours another finger of scotch into Isato’s glass. “Well, I’m glad you’re more open-minded.”
“One must stay current or become obsolete. I want the next generation to inherit a strong family. Still, it is difficult for old gangsters like us to catch up.”
Caine senses movement at the front of the izakaya. Some sort of commotion. Isato’s smile fades as Caine’s hand dips towards the opening in his suit. A small child bursts out of the crowd near the entrance and runs towards Isato, smiling. Caine sighs and his hand falls back to his side. He knows this boy. It is Isato’s son. Kenji Yoshizawa.
The effect on Isato is mesmerizing. The stern old man transforms into a proud, grinning father. Caine watches as Isato lifts the boy up on his lap while a stately Japanese woman rushes towards them. Rioko, Kenji’s maiden aunt, bows slightly to Caine, then deeper to Isato.
“Gomenasai!” Rioko says. “He ran out of the hotel room. I had to chase after him!”
Isato laughs, tousling the young boy’s hair. “He knew we were just talking about him! My son is a smart boy, eh?”
At the far end of the izakaya, the manager and some of the patrons stare at the child with disapproval, but no one says a word. Isato whispers something into the boy’s ear, and his face turns pensive. Isato kisses Kenji on the cheek, then shifts him off his lap, handing him to Rioko. The boy takes her hand, and they push their way towards the front of the izakaya.
“What did you say to him?” Caine asks.
Isato sips his scotch, hesitant. Finally, he answers. “I told him he was the future, both for me and for the yakuza. And that, someday, he would know what that truly meant.”
Caine shakes his head.
“Heavy stuff.”
“Not for him. He has my blood. And my love. There is nothing he cannot do.”
Caine holds up his glass. “To the future.” The pair clink glasses and drink.
As the aunt leads her nephew to the exit, Kenji looks back at Isato. The old man smiles, and Kenji breaks free of Rioko’s grip.
Time seems to slow to a crawl.
A figure appears over Rioko’s shoulder, a mountain in a grey sharkskin suit. His black hair is swept back into a small, tight bun, like a sumo wrestler. Half his massive face is covered by a snarling tiger tattoo. Caine has never met this man, but he knows who he is from the CIA briefing reports. Bobu Shimizu. A member of the rival Shimizu crime family, and brother to the Shimizu oyabun.
Bobu settles a cold, lifeless gaze on Isato, then shoves Rioko out of the way. He is holding a gun.
As Caine struggles to his feet, his reflexes dulled by alcohol and a lack of sleep, Kenji runs to his father. Isato stands and opens his arms wide, oblivious to the danger. Bobu aims the gun, and Caine runs to intercept Kenji, pushing hapless bystanders out of his way.
Isato looks up and locks eyes with Bobu. Their faces freeze in snarls of mutual hatred. Bobu’s thick finger tightens on the trigger. Kenji runs into the line of fire. The boy skids to a stop, frightened by the angry look on his father’s face.
Caine slams into Kenji. He grabs the boy and pivots around, putting himself between the boy and Bobu.
Bobu fires. The gunshot reverberates like an explosion in the small bar.
Caine gasps as the bullet tears into him. He falls to the ground, clutching Kenji in his arms. The terrified child kicks and screams, trying to get away. Caine holds on, despite the bullet wound in his shoulder. He winces in pain, but he does not let go.
Koichi and his men rus
h back in. The bar patrons scream and scatter for cover as Koichi draws a gun of his own, aiming it at Bobu. Isato rushes over and pushes Koichi’s gun hand up towards the ceiling.
“No, you idiot! No more shooting! Get Kenji out of here!”
Koichi grabs Kenji from Caine’s arms. Caine’s field of vision narrows. A black haze closes in from all sides.
The last thing he remembers is Bobu glaring at him in a cold rage. His tiger tattoo seems to roar with deadly fury. The combination of the man’s ferocious face and grim stare is horrifying. He reminds Caine of an oni, the red-skinned demons that deceive and devour humans.
As Bobu turns and flees the bar, Caine falls into the sweet embrace of unconsciousness.
Caine woke from the dream slowly, tentatively. He willed himself to consciousness. The darkness lifted, replaced by a dim light creeping between the curtains of his hotel room. He felt like a man pulling himself out of quicksand. One step at a time.
He sighed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. All the nightmares of his past seemed to be returning one by one. Their dark touch lingered on his mind.
Caine forced himself out of bed. After a brutal workout in the hotel gym, followed by breakfast and a scalding hot shower, he felt like he had finally escaped the lingering unease left behind by his dream. Not a dream, he thought. Memories. He rubbed the small white scar on his shoulder. The past had left its mark on him. It would not let him forget.
With nothing else to occupy his time, he flipped on the TV and watched the news. All the stations were reporting the same story. The prime minster of Japan had given a speech criticizing China for military escalations surrounding the Senkaku Islands. The speech was in Japanese, but a flat, monotone English translation chased his words.
“Both sides recognize that they have different views regarding the tense situations arising in recent years in the waters of the East China Sea, including those around the Senkaku Islands. But we do not consider this a territorial dispute. There can be no dispute over facts, and it has been acknowledged again and again that these islands are the sovereign territory of Japan. Rather, we believe there is a dispute over the causes behind the recent growth in tensions around these islands. And for this, we feel it is clear that provocative activities by China are to blame.”
According to the newscaster’s recap, the U.S. Secretary of State was flying in to mediate a sit-down between officials of Japan and the People’s Republic of China. Caine shook his head and turned off the TV. Unbelievable. All this over a bunch of uninhabited rocks in the middle of the ocean.
A buzzing sounded from the nightstand next to his bed. There was a text message on the phone from Koichi: “We have information for you. I will pick you up at 8:00 p.m.”
He erased the text.
Chapter Sixteen
The tiny internet cafe by the beach was simple, clean, and fairly busy. A few local teenagers, a vacationing businessman or two ... the clientele was typical for a spot like this.
Rebecca scanned the crowd one more time. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, so she reached into her woven beach bag and removed a black USB dongle. Turning back to the computer in front of her, she inserted the device into a port on the machine. An icon popped up on the screen, and she double clicked it.
The tiny USB device instantly created a secure link to the network she used to reach Ethan. For the third time that day, she opened the black window and tried to initiate a chat.
SECURE CONNECTION REQUEST. RF-07716. STATUS: ARCHIPELAGO
She took a sip of her Singha, pretending to be just another well-to-do professional on holiday. The cursor blinked silently on her screen.
There was no response.
Shit.
She glanced around the cafe one more time. Certain no one was observing her, she yanked the dongle from the computer and the chat window blinked out of existence. Rebecca deleted her history on the machine, then got up to leave.
Outside, bikini-clad girls ambled down Soi 5, heading for the beach. Neon green and yellow motor scooters buzzed along the road, gleaming in the overhead sun like shiny beetles humming through the air. In her tank top, shorts, and oversized tortoiseshell sunglasses, Rebecca blended into the throng of beachgoers. The gold bangles and woven bracelets adorning her arms jingled as she walked.
After the air-conditioned chill of the cafe, the sudden blast of afternoon humidity felt good on Rebecca’s skin, but her face was still contorted in a troubled scowl. Ethan could be flaky, but it wasn’t like him to just disappear like this. Hell, she thought, the guy practically lives in front of a computer.
She was just about to try calling him again when the phone rang inside her bag. She picked it up, expecting to see a message from Ethan. Instead, it was an unfamiliar international number. Japan. Caine.
“Hello?”
“It’s me,” said Caine.
Rebecca was annoyed to find herself comforted by the sound of his voice.
“I figured. Still reading that Basho?”
“No, I finished that one. Figured I’d try the Murakami book you recommended.”
“Can’t promise you’ll like it,” she answered. “New number. You must be going through a ton of burner phones.”
“Yeah, well, privacy has its price. And it may be cheaper than the alternative.”
She nodded in silent agreement. “Any luck with the girl?”
“I have a lead. I’ll let you know if it pans out.”
“Good. The clock is ticking. Did you get the info I forwarded you?”
“Yes. Tokyo Black. Your report jives with my intel here.”
“How are they involved?”
“I’m not sure they are yet, but our paths have crossed.” Caine paused. “You sound stressed. Everything okay?”
“I’m fine.” She sighed. “It’s probably nothing, but....”
She trailed off, unsure what exactly to say.
Caine’s voice cut in, sharp as a knife. “But what? What’s wrong?”
“My information specialist. Ethan Maslin. He’s a hacker the FBI busted a couple years ago. He cut a deal to work for the CIA.”
“What about him?”
“Well, he sent me the info on Tokyo Black yesterday. The files I forwarded you.” She paused, listening, but there was only silence and static on the other end of the phone. “And I haven’t been able to reach him since then. I’m sure it’s nothing, but—”
“It’s not nothing,” Caine cut her off. “These hacker guys love to brag. Did he tell anyone about this operation? Did he tell Bernatto that I was your asset?”
“No, of course not. I had him delete all the records. And I’m telling you, Bernatto doesn’t want to know.”
“Don’t be so sure. Is that everything?”
“Yes. Well, maybe. I don’t know. Yesterday I saw this guy at my hotel. Something about him felt off. I don’t know why, but he felt military to me.”
“Rebecca, this Maslin guy ... what else did he dig into besides Tokyo Black?”
Rebecca looked down Soi 5. She saw a group of three men moving towards her. They looked to be a mix of ethnicities, probably Thai and Indonesian. They were wearing khaki pants and cheap t-shirts. One of them had a limp, and another had a colorful tattoo on his arm. The tattooed man stared at her as they came closer. The street behind them simmered with rippling waves of heat.
Rebecca turned to her right and headed down the beach road, away from the cafe.
“What do you think, Tom? I had him look into Operation Big Blind. That report is bullshit, and we both know it.”
“Dammit, I told you—”
“You told me a lot of things, Tom. Maybe if you would just tell me the truth, I wouldn’t need to go looking for it myself.”
“Rebecca, I didn’t tell you because you were better off not knowing,” he snapped. “Why the hell do you think I stayed away in the first place?”
“It’s a lie, isn’t it? You didn’t kill Tyler. You didn’t take the drugs and the guns. Bernatto did
and set you up to take the fall.”
Caine sighed. “We can talk about it later. Right now, you have to get out of Thailand. Get your ass in a cab and go straight to the airport. Leave your things, just go.”
Rebecca looked behind her. The three men continued down Soi 5, past the beach road, laughing and catcalling at pretty girls as they went by. They didn’t even look in her direction. She took a deep breath and realized her heart had been racing.
“Tom, we’re on mission. Bernatto may be dirty, but this intel is real. We can’t just—”
“I’ll handle it. Just get the hell out of Thailand. If Bernatto knows you’re there, it’s not safe. Promise me.”
“Maybe you’re right. I’ll go. But keep me informed.”
“I will, I promise. Contact me when you’re somewhere safe.”
He hung up.
Rebecca stepped out into the street to hail a cab. A few seconds later, a small blue taxi weaved its way through the beach traffic and pulled up to the curb. As she got in, she debated if she should go back to the hotel to get her things. Then she remembered the sharp edge to Caine’s voice. It was fear. He was afraid for her.
“Airport, please.”
The driver smiled. He was missing a tooth. “U-Tapao airport? Take about forty minutes in this traffic. Fifteen-hundred baht, okay?”
“That’s fine.”
She cracked her window, letting the warm breeze wash over her as they pulled away from the corner. She felt her heartbeat slow down. It was the fear in Caine’s voice that had triggered her rush of adrenalin.
Was it possible? Was Bernatto a traitor?
There is another possibility.... Maybe I’m only seeing what I want to see. Maybe Caine was guilty. Maybe he was playing her; maybe he had been all along.
She knew that, in her profession, the truth was a luxury. Exotic, hard to obtain, and not without expense. But she was determined to seek it out, no matter what it cost.
The taxicab sputtered to a stop at a four-way intersection. The road ahead was blocked by a mass of traffic. Idling engines and honking horns replaced the gentle sound of waves crashing on the beach. Rebecca craned her neck out the window but couldn’t see past the blockade of cars.
Thomas Caine series Boxset Page 10
