Thomas Caine series Boxset

by Andrew Warren

  “What’s wrong? Why are we stopping?”

  The driver shook his head. “Look like accident. I bet you it’s another tour bus. They crash all the time. Roads very bad here, miss. Eighty people die here every day in traffic accidents!”

  “Is there another route we can take?”

  The driver tapped some buttons on the smartphone suction-cupped to the windshield. “Let’s see how bad it is.... Maybe we take side street and loop around.”

  Rebecca watched as the driver called up an alternate route. The car shuddered as he put it back into gear. “Okay, bingo! Hang on; we need to turn around.” He looked over his shoulder, and the car whined as he backed up.

  Rebecca saw his eyes go wide and his jaw drop before she heard the brakes screeching. She had just enough time to turn before the hood of a huge black SUV filled the rear windshield.

  The impact crumpled the rear of the taxi and launched her forward into the air. For a fraction of a second, she felt weightless, as if she were hovering above the rear seat of the taxi. She heard the sound of shattering glass and squealing metal. Then her head struck the back of the driver’s seat. The impact snapped her back, and she collapsed on the rear floor of the vehicle. Shards of glass rained down on top of her.

  Blood streamed from a gash on her face. She tried to move her head, but the muscles in her neck screamed in pain. She called out to the driver.

  “Are you okay?” Her voice was a hoarse croak.

  There was no response.

  She heard sirens in the distance. They grew closer. Within a few minutes, flashing lights reflected across the shattered windows of the vehicle. She heard voices, footsteps. Grinding metal.

  How did they get here so quickly?

  The crumpled door to her left ripped open. She felt strong, firm hands grasping her, pulling her from the wreckage. The hands lifted her onto a stretcher. The sun beamed down overhead, an uncaring orb of fire, bleaching the scene of the accident in a curtain of white light. She squinted, unable to look at it.

  “I’m okay,” she mumbled. “I’m fine. I have to go.”

  A man in a paramedic uniform leaned over her. He lifted her eyelids open and shined a small flashlight into her pupils, first left, then right. He nodded, then buckled a nylon strap tight across her abdomen.

  She tried to resist as he buckled similar straps around each wrist, but she knew her efforts were pathetic. She felt a needle slide into her arm. “Wait...” she said, her voice faint and weak.

  The paramedic looked down at her. The sun cast a halo of fire behind his head, reflecting on his blond hair. She had seen him before.

  It was the man she had spotted at the hotel.

  He spoke into a small microphone at his throat. “Package is secure. Condition stable but injured.”

  As her vision faded to black, she realized two things. She had finally discovered the truth: Bernatto was obviously dirty. Caine had been right.

  And he had been right about something else as well.

  She was in terrible danger.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Caine stood outside the Shinjuku Prince Hotel. The night air was crisp, and he zipped his leather jacket a bit higher. Around him, an anonymous crowd of businessmen, families, and tourists came and went. The lights of Tokyo glittered against the night sky.

  He tried to keep his mind off Rebecca. He should have known she would investigate his old file. He chided himself for revealing as much as he had. If Bernatto knew he was alive, knew that he had spoken to her....

  He stopped that train of thought before it could consume him. Right now, he had a job to do. Rebecca was leaving Thailand. With any luck, by the time she got to safety, this would all be over. And if Bernatto did suspect her, then Caine’s best course of action was to get his hands on something Bernatto wanted. And right now, for reasons unknown, that was Hitomi.

  He checked the watch on his wrist. It was 8:15 p.m. He remembered Koichi being more punctual.

  A guttural roar emanated from the street below, so loud it drowned out the taxicabs and limousines idling by the hotel entrance. Tires squealed around the corner, and a black sports car streaked towards him. Caine took a step back as the vehicle zoomed up to him and screeched to a halt.

  The driver’s door of the black GTR swung open, and Kenji stepped out, smiling. “Hey, man. Heard you liked the car....”

  “She’s a beast all right. What happened to Koichi?”

  Kenji grinned like a Cheshire cat. “He’ll meet up with us later. Here....” Kenji tossed him the car keys. “Why don’t you drive? See what she can do.”

  Caine looked at the keys, then back at Kenji. “Your dad know you’re here?”

  Kenji walked around to the passenger door. “Anyone ever tell you you ask too many questions?”

  Caine smiled and slid into the driver seat. “Occupational hazard.”

  He pushed the ignition button on the dash, and the engine roared to life like a snarling tiger.

  Kenji looked over at him. “Yeah? What occupation is that?”

  “Now look who’s asking questions.”

  Caine depressed the brake and moved the shift lever into position. Stepping on the gas, he revved the engine to 4,000 rpm. Kenji smiled with approval. “Looks like you know what you’re doing.”

  “Sometimes, kid. Sometimes.”

  Caine released the brake. Six-hundred horsepower shot through the car’s transmission in the blink of an eye. The GTR launched forward, tearing out of the hotel driveway.

  “Head north,” Kenji said. “Follow the Chuo main line.”

  Caine downshifted and sped past a local tofu delivery truck. “You want to tell me where we’re going?”

  “Ikebukuro. We got word your girl went to see a yonigeya there.”

  “A what?”

  “A yonigeya. It means ‘fly by night arranger’. They help people in trouble disappear.”

  Caine kept his eyes on the road. “What kind of trouble?”

  Kenji fished a toothpick out of his pocket and wedged it in his teeth. He rolled it around absentmindedly as he looked out the window at the passing lights. “Oh, you know. Loan sharks. Gangsters. People like that.”

  Caine was silent.

  “Anyway,” Kenji continued, “when they get in too deep, a yonigeya can help them smooth things over. In extreme cases, they pose as window washers or lawn workers. They enter a house and smuggle their clients out of town. Set them up with new lives. Obviously, the yakuza keeps close tabs on such people.” Kenji pointed to a traffic sign as the GTR streaked past it. “Take the next exit.”

  Caine drifted right and sped up a ramp onto a winding freeway. The glowing lights flicked by faster and faster as the car got up to speed.

  “Kind of like a private witness protection.”

  Kenji nodded. He looked over at Caine. “You know, I have to say, I never thought I would see you again. I wasn’t that young, but I barely remember that night.”

  Caine maintained his forward gaze, scanning the road. “You were young enough. And I’m sure you were in shock.”

  The young man nodded. “Yeah, sure. I’ve heard all the stories, though. I mean, you took a bullet for me. I feel like I should at least, I don’t know, thank you or something.”

  Caine gave Kenji a quick glance. “Kenji, that was a long time ago. Forget it; you don’t owe me anything.”

  “How can you say that? I might not be here if it wasn’t for you. You know Koichi, he felt so guilty he cut off his own finger. My dad didn’t even ask him to; he just did it. Said he should have been there, but he wasn’t. You were.”

  Caine shook his head. “No matter how much time I spend here, there are some things I will never understand about this country.”

  Kenji laughed. “Yeah, right? I understand it, though. Honor, duty ... all that samurai bullshit. I grew up hearing stuff like that from my father nonstop. This great legacy that was going to pass down to me, like it passed from his father, and his father, and so on and so
on.”

  “That’s a lot to lay on a kid’s shoulders,” Caine said. “Looks like you went your own way though.”

  “I didn’t have a choice. After that night, you know, the one who was really in shock was my dad. Suddenly, everything I’d heard my whole life ... leading the yakuza, being the next oyabun, honoring the family ... that was all over. Like that.” Kenji snapped his fingers. “He’s kept me at arm’s length ever since.”

  Caine shot Kenji another quick glance. “Kenji, you can’t blame your father for being concerned. He almost lost you. Of course it was a shock.”

  Kenji stared at him, his eyes wide and intense, probing. “Have you ever felt like that, though? Like your whole life, everything you believed was true, everything you thought was going to happen ... it just disappears, in less than a second. You don’t know exactly how or why. You just know it was taken from you. Do you know how that feels?”

  Caine swallowed. When he spoke, his voice was thick and heavy. “Yes, I do.”

  Kenji looked away from Caine and stared out the window. “I went to the best schools, got the best grades. Got a Western education. I’ve successfully managed all my father’s legitimate finances. Hell, if he’d let me, he could make more money from investing than all this petty yakuza bullshit. But he loves it. It’s his family.

  “Kenji, you’re his family.”

  “True. But that night, it was like, his family was split in two. And if push came to shove, if he had to choose....”

  Kenji’s voice trailed off. “Whatever. Anyway, I’m glad I got the chance to thank you. But there’s always been one thing I wanted to ask.”

  Caine nodded. “Go ahead.”

  “What made you do it? I mean, you met me, what, three or four times before that night? It’s not like you and my dad were friends or anything. You took a freaking bullet for me! Was it to impress my dad? Did it help make your deal or something?”

  Caine sighed. “Kenji, I don’t know. I can’t say why I did what I did. I just reacted and did what came naturally. At that moment in time, I didn’t think about it. But I thought about it later. I thought about it a lot.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. And believe me, if anyone should be thanking anyone, it’s me. Look, you must realize, this life, people like me and your father, it’s not all fast cars and duty and honor and parties. Sometimes, too many times, we have to do things that ... well, things that can haunt you. Things we would rather forget. But we can’t.”

  “Kurayami no haji wo akarumi ni mochi dasu na,” Kenji said.

  “I’m afraid your English is a lot better than my Japanese.” Caine kept his eyes on the road as he weaved around some slower-moving traffic.

  “It’s an old saying. It means you must keep the shameful things you’ve done in the dark. Not expose them to the light. Keep it buried, inside.”

  Caine nodded. “I have a lot of secrets buried in the dark. But what I did that night ... that’s something I don’t have to keep buried. It takes my mind off things when the darkness gets to be too much. And I’d gladly do it again, in a heartbeat.”

  Kenji nodded. “Well, thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Caine looked over and smiled. “Your father really doesn’t know you’re here, does he?”

  Kenji looked away. “No, he doesn’t. Just one more thing he doesn’t know about me.”

  Kenji didn’t speak again, and they drove on through the night in silence.

  Chapter Eighteen

  By the time Caine and Kenji reached Ikebukuro, a light rain began to fall across the sprawling district. Caine slowed down, cautiously maneuvering the powerful sports car through the congested city streets. As the raindrops spattered on the pavement, the roads became slick and reflective, like long ribbons of black satin.

  They drove past the Ikebukuro station, the third largest train station in the world. Caine had to marvel at the size of the place. Buildings in Japan always seemed smaller in scale than their Western counterparts. But here, the buildings were massive. The Seibu and Tobu department stores, the towering Sunshine 60 entertainment complex ... everything was bigger, larger than life. Their glowing lights reflected off the wet pavement, bathing the car in flashes of red, green, and purple neon as they passed. It was like driving through a galaxy of bright, colorful stars.

  As they circled around the station, Kenji provided brief, simple directions. Soon they reached the outskirts of the area where the lights were just as bright, but almost entirely red. They had entered Ikebukuro’s unofficial Chinatown, a small enclave that had sprung up north of the station. Signs for Chinese restaurants and businesses hung from balconies and beckoned from dark basements.

  Kenji led them down a dark alleyway behind a small office building, just off the main street. Each floor of the building housed a different business. The signs were in Chinese, but the occasional English word—such as “Passport” or “Laundry”—was printed in bright yellow letters.

  “This is the place,” Kenji said.

  Caine slowed the car to a stop. They got out, and Caine followed Kenji down the alley and around to the main street.

  The building they were parked behind was flanked by similar structures on the left and right. A street-side cafe filled the ground floor of the left building. It sat beneath a huge red sign, with blinking Chinese characters.

  Koichi sat on a stool at the cafe, eating a bowl of dumplings. Caine recognized them as xiaolongbao, Chinese soup dumplings. Each delicate pouch of dough was filled with cooked pork and a delicious sweet broth.

  Koichi looked up at Caine and Kenji. “What took you so long?” A trickle of broth dripped from his mouth, which he wiped away with a napkin.

  Caine smiled and looked around the packed cafe. Several Chinese and Japanese patrons sat at the counter, all devouring the same pork dumplings. They ate at a rapid pace, scooping up the little pouches and sucking them into their mouths with loud slurping noises.

  “The news keeps talking about tension between Japan and China,” Caine said. “But you both seem to have the same lousy table manners.”

  Koichi stood up and tossed some yen on the counter. “What do I know about politics? I just like the dumplings.” He nodded at Kenji. “Here, you can finish.”

  “But—” Kenji began, but Koichi gave him a stern look.

  “If your father knew you were here with me, he would take another finger. That would make things very difficult in my line of work.”

  Kenji sighed and sat down in front of the steaming bowl. “Hai. Have fun.”

  Caine and Koichi walked through the misty rain towards the center building. Kochi spoke to him in a low voice. “Ikebukuro is Kyokuta-Kai territory. The Yoshizawa clan was in a feud with them, but Isato brokered a peace several years ago. Now, our mutual business is too profitable to squabble over such things.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re one big happy family now.”

  “When Isato put the word out about this girl you’re looking for, one of their members said she had been seen visiting the yonigeya here. They keep an eye on his office in case he tries to help someone skip out on a debt to the Kyokuta.”

  “Fly by night arranger. So, if this girl was looking to run, who was she running from?”

  Koichi gave him a thin-lipped smile. “I assumed from you, Waters-san.”

  Caine shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

  Koichi opened the door, and they walked into a small, dirty lobby, its Formica floor yellow with age. Next to the elevator sat an old Chinese man in a frayed brown windbreaker, eating from a plastic bowl. Between slurps of noodles, the man spoke a few words in Japanese, and Koichi nodded. “He says the elevator is broken.”

  “Stairs it is.”

  Koichi opened a stained white door with a crumpled lunar calendar tacked to the front. Behind the door they found a flight of rickety wood steps. As they started up the stairs, Caine felt a tightness in the pit of his stomach. They were entering unfamiliar territory.

&nbs
p; “Any chance I could get my gun back?”

  “I thought you might ask, Waters-san.” Koichi reached behind and pulled the Beretta Storm from his waistband. “Careful. As you said, this gun is hot.”

  Caine slid out the magazine to confirm it was loaded. Then he slammed it back in, racked the slide, and flipped the safety off. He noticed Koichi had drawn a small Colt defender pistol from inside his jacket. Caine could see where the stub of his pinky finger ended, unable to circle around the small weapon’s grip.

  “Koichi, Kenji told me about that night, what happened. I’m sorry about—”

  Koichi sucked in air through his teeth, making a hissing sound. “Now is not the time, Waters-san. And you have nothing to be sorry for.”

  “Right. Okay, let’s just say when this is over I owe you a drink.”

  “When this is over. Now, the man we are looking for has an office on the fourth floor. His name is Naka.”

  They continued up, passing the second floor without incident. As they reached the third floor, the stairwell door burst open. Caine’s hand shot towards his waistband but stayed there. A young Chinese man stumbled down the stairs, holding the hand of a giggling girl in a short, sparkling dress. As she brushed past them on the stairwell, she muttered something in Chinese and the man laughed.

  Caine looked at Koichi, and the older man shrugged. “There’s a massage parlor on this floor. She thinks we’re cops. Bad for her business.”

  They continued up the stairwell. Caine’s eyes narrowed and focused. His movements became smooth and graceful, like a stalking cat. He was a predator now. And this man, Naka, was his prey.

  The fourth floor was dark and deserted. Doors flanked the short hallway to their left and right. They were marked with Chinese characters, but Caine had no idea what they said. Koichi pointed towards a single door facing them at the far end of the hall. The door was unmarked, but a frosted glass panel was set in the center. Caine couldn’t make out any detail behind the window, but he could tell the lights were off inside.