Ripping the glasses off the man’s face, he held them up to his eyes. He reeled as he suddenly found himself streaking through dark clouds at what seemed like a thousand miles per hour. He yanked the visor away from his face to regain his balance.
“What the hell?” he muttered. Slowly he brought the visor back up to his face. Again he was thrust through the sky at rapid speed, piercing the rain and clouds like a jet-propelled arrow.
He turned his head left, and the point of view rotated to follow him. The clouds rushed by him sideways now, as if he were looking out the side window of a jet plane.
His body staggered as he adjusted to the strange sensation. Digital readings surrounded the central image, filling his peripheral vision. Air speed, altitude, pitch, yaw ... all the information one would need to control a drone.
So that was how Bernatto had miniaturized the drone control package! He had virtualized it. It wouldn’t be as precise as an actual control booth with real instruments. But for what Kusaka was planning, it didn’t have to be. All they had to do was guide the drone to its final destination. Gravity would do the rest.
Looking to his left, Caine saw a red wireframe control stick superimposed over the image. He reached out his hand, but it did nothing. The image he was seeing must be the drone’s forward camera. When he turned his head, the camera rotated. But the drone’s course was unaffected.
He looked around at the readouts blinking at the borders of his vision. One of them showed a small topographical map. Course headings rapidly blinked in and out as they adjusted. Caine looked forward again. The drone’s view was descending, lowering through the clouds.
He saw city streets come into view. Buildings rushed beneath him as if he were a giant predatory bird, skimming over the rooftops of the city, searching for prey.
The camera centered on the building up ahead. It was a dull grey slab with a helipad on its roof. A helicopter sat on the pad, its rotors idling. The fisheye view from the drone’s camera was distorted, but Caine could make out tiny figures walking towards the helicopter.
The building’s architecture was completely unremarkable, but Caine recognized it immediately. It was the American Embassy in Tokyo. United States soil, right in the heart of Tokyo.
The Secretary of State, the Chinese Foreign Minister, Japan’s Minster of Foreign Affairs ... they were all meeting at the embassy to discuss the Senkaku Island dispute. And Kusaka was going to take them all out in one fell swoop, in what would look like a Chinese military strike.
The loss of life would be disastrous, and the repercussions could lead to war.
He reached for the digital control stick again, but it still had no effect. Tearing off the glasses, Caine examined the controls in the briefcase. Kenji had said the Skytree tower coordinates were pre-programmed into the drone. It would be guided to the final target from here. There had to be a way to order it back.
There! He spotted a red button marked RECALL. He slammed the button, and the machine began to beep.
He held up the glasses again and saw the view of the embassy rotate away as the drone changed course. It was returning back to the tower, back to its programmed coordinates.
He was slipping the visor into his inner jacket pocket when he felt, rather than saw, a motion above him. A subtle shift in light, the rustle of clothes barely audible over the rainfall. Whatever it was, he instinctively sidestepped and pivoted, bringing his gun hand up.
His quick reaction saved his life. A massive, shadowy form dropped to the ground, exactly where he had been standing. The falling body grazed his side, knocking him back a few feet.
Caine raised his pistol. The huge, dark shadow swung towards him, knocking the Beretta from his grip. A powerful arm slipped under his right elbow and yanked him forward. As he lost his balance, another arm scooped his right leg, lifting it upwards.
Within a fraction of a second, his entire body was lifted into the air and thrown backwards. He slammed down onto the roof. The impact radiated through his bruised, aching body like an electric shock. He grit his teeth and forced himself to roll backwards. He leapt up to a standing position.
Bobu Shimizu stood before him, blocking his access to the drone controls. Caine panted in the rain, plotting his next move. A single black eye, brimming with hate, glared back at him. The man was even larger than Caine had remembered. Naked from the waist up, his many scars and injuries painted a hideous tapestry across his body.
“Bobu Shimizu!” Caine shouted with a rueful smile. “I have to say, I like the new look. The face tattoo was a little off-putting.”
“Thomas Caine.” Bobu’s deep voice easily carried over the rushing wind. “I never knew your real name until now. But ever since our first encounter, I have dreamed of facing you again.”
“Really? Didn’t go so well for you the first time.”
“You are wrong. Everything went exactly as it should have. It was destiny. During my years in prison, I was cleansed by pain and fire, purged of my poisonous addiction. I found my purpose, a greater destiny than I ever could have imagined for myself as a two-bit gangster. I shall be the savior of Japan.
“And what of you? What have you done in the years since we first met? Hidden like a frightened child? Squandered your life in the shadows, watched as everything you believed in was proven a lie? All while carrying the mark of my bullet in your flesh. Now, once again you stand before me, and I have the privilege of facing you as my true self. I have become my destiny. There is nothing you can do to stop me.”
Caine rubbed the old bullet wound. It ached and stung with pain. He pushed it harder, and the pain grew. It flooded his senses and washed away all traces of fear and uncertainty.
“Destiny, huh?” he said, shouting over the rain. “We’ll see about that. Where’s your boss, Kusaka?”
Bobu shrugged, his enormous muscles rippling at even the most minimal movement.
“Most likely in his mansion, enjoying his plaything. I do not pretend to understand his obsession with that girl, but I am no stranger to weakness. Our greater purpose shall purify him, and he will be forgiven for his failings.”
Caine’s eyes blazed with anger. “We’ll have to agree to disagree on that.”
The massive man stepped forward. The rain dripped down his exposed skin. Trails of water traced the glistening, pocked expanse of his burned and mangled flesh.
“The drone’s already on its way back here,” Caine shouted. “You’ve missed your window. The dignitaries will be boarding the helicopter any minute.”
“Then I will strike them in the air. There will be plenty of time to locate them after I finish with you.”
Caine pushed his rain-soaked hair out of his eyes and pivoted his body sideways. He raised his hands in front of him, beckoning his opponent to begin the assault.
Bobu’s face twisted into a nightmarish snarl. The hideous scars that marked his face, the burned eye, and his massive frame made him seem more monster than man. And then, bellowing an angry roar, the monster charged forward.
Chapter Forty-Two
Caine fought the urge to back away from the freight train of flesh barreling towards him. He knew the point of Bobu’s charge was to push him back, put him on the defensive. It would allow the bigger man time to put his greater reach and muscle mass to use.
Instead, Caine stepped forward and kicked Bobu’s left knee. A shock ran through his body as the blow connected. Kicking Bobu’s leg felt like kicking the trunk of an ancient tree. The huge man grunted and dipped forward as his knee buckled, but he did not go down.
Instead, Bobu used his forward momentum to swing a savage hook punch through the air. Caine ducked under the blow. As he moved, he lashed out and hit Bobu’s exposed neck with a fast knuckle punch.
If Bobu felt the blow through the layers of sinew and muscle beneath his skin, he didn’t show it. He spun around and drove his elbow into the back of Caine’s head. The impact sent Caine’s body sailing forward. His head struck the metal roof, and he coll
apsed next to the Tokyo Black man he’d gunned down earlier.
As his vision cleared, Caine noticed something about the man he’d missed before. A chunky black band was strapped around his wrist. A red LED light mounted to the plastic band was blinking. He snatched it off the man’s wrist and rolled over, just in time to ward off Bobu’s stomping foot.
Caine crossed his arms to block the blow, but Bobu’s bulk and strength drove his limbs back into his chest. The kick knocked the wind out of him. Bobu grabbed him by the jacket and hoisted him into the air.
Caine gasped for breath. His arms flailed as he tried to grab hold of Bobu’s arms, but his feeble grip slipped loose. Bobu lifted him over his head and tossed him through the air like a ragdoll.
Caine struck the chain fence. He rolled over it and landed on the track. He scrambled for purchase as he felt his weight shift. He was sliding over the edge!
He let go of the wristband, which fluttered into the air behind him. With both hands, he clawed at the metal edge of the track. His body swung to a stop. He found himself hanging on for dear life from the top of the tallest building in Tokyo. Beneath him, the dark clouds and city buildings spread out in a dizzying tableau. It was welcoming him, waiting for him to fall and assume his place in the mural of death.
Caine struggled to pull himself up, his knuckles white with exertion, his body wracked with waves of pain and exhaustion. He managed to raise his body a few inches, only to slide back down again. Peering through the falling rain, he saw Bobu approach the ledge. The hulking man stared down at him with his strange white eye.
“Do not fear death, Caine-san. In pain, you will be purified.”
“Go fuck yourself,” Caine spat back.
The big man threw back his head and laughed. Then he stomped down on the fingers of Caine’s left hand. Caine screamed as the full weight of his body tugged on his right arm. His fingers began to slip on the cold, wet metal.
As he swung one-handed from the edge, he spied a long metal cable running down the side of the tower, about ten feet to his left. He looked up and saw it was one of four cables running from the bottom of the metal housing mounted to the track. A window washing cart—that had to be what the track was for! If he could just move over a few feet....
Another wave of pain shocked his body as Bobu stamped on his right hand. Caine gasped and forced himself not to let go. Bobu smiled down at him as he ground his foot into the track, crushing Caine’s fingers beneath his weight.
Struggling to maintain his grip, Caine slipped his bruised and bloody left hand into his pocket. Bobu tilted his head down. His hideous features curled into a curious smile. “How much longer can you hold on, Caine-san? Your life can be measured in seconds. What will you do in your last few moments on this Earth?”
Caine lurched his body upwards and drew his hand from his pocket. His fingers grasped the hilt of his Spyderco knife. In one fluid motion, he flicked open the blade with his thumb and stabbed the blade down into Bobu’s foot.
Bobu howled in pain and stepped back. Caine let go of the knife and grasped the track with both hands. As Bobu yanked the blade from his shoe, Caine slid his body to the left, closer to the thick metal cables. He moved his hands as quickly as he could without losing his grip on the slick metal.
His feet dangled about thirty feet above the curved surface of the Galleria tube. On a small metal ledge connecting the tube to the outer wall of the observation deck, he spotted a tiny red light blinking on and off. Caine realized it was the wristband. It must have landed there after he dropped it.
As Caine hurried his pace, Bobu charged back towards him, now clutching a large pistol. He opened fire. Caine flinched as the bullets whizzed past his head. Then a familiar voice called out, “Security branch! Drop your weapons!” It was Mariko!
Bobu turned and bolted. The sound of gunfire rang out as Caine’s grip began to slip. He swung his body, and his leg made contact with the cable. He wrapped both legs around it, then reached out with his left hand. Holding on for all he was worth, he looked down and nearly cried with relief. The window washing cart hung suspended from the cables. The mobile housing overhead held the winch mechanisms that raised and lowered it.
Caine slid down the taut metal wire like a fireman’s pole. When he reached the cart, he fell inside and dropped to the floor. The cart was little more than a metal framework and a floor to stand on. But after hanging off the edge of the tower, it was a welcome safe haven.
Caine heard another series of gunshots. He looked up, but his view of the roof was blocked. The cart began to sway in the wind and rain. The metal cables whined as they shifted back and forth.
Caine spotted a simple control panel mounted to the edge of the cart. The panel consisted of two levers. One moved the cart up and down, the other side to side. He grabbed both levers, and tried to move the cart down towards the blinking red light. Nothing happened. The tower must have shut off power to the unit when they shut down the elevators.
Caine estimated the wristband was only about fifteen feet below him. As more shots rang out from the roof, he climbed up onto the edge of the cart. He balanced on the thin metal framework, using one of the cables to steady his body in the wind.
The cart hung about five feet away from the ledge. If he missed, he knew he would never be able to hold onto the smooth glass side of the tube. He would slip over the edge and fall, 1,400 feet down.
The cart lurched again, and he grabbed the cable tighter. The tiny metal cage swung out, farther away from the tube. Then, like a pendulum, it swung back. Closer, closer....
Caine leapt from the cart. He saw a brief glimpse of the city far below, the image flashing in the gap between the cart and the ledge. Then he struck the flat metal surface and collapsed.
He slowly stood up on the narrow walkway that ran just above the spiraling glass tube of the Galleria. The metal ledge sloped downwards at a steep angle. To his right, he could see the Tembo observation deck through its enormous glass windows. The vast room was empty. Mariko must have escorted the hostages to the elevators before coming up to the roof.
To his left, a small metal lip that came up to his knees was the only barrier between himself and the drop below. The wind whipped through his hair, and he lowered his stance to steady himself. Scanning the walkway, he spotted the blinking light of the wristband. It was wedged against one of the windows’ metal support beams.
He slid over to the window, grabbed the band, and wrapped it around his wrist. Then he reached into his jacket and pulled out the visor. He hoped everything was still connected wirelessly to the briefcase transmitter above. Taking a deep breath, he slipped on the glasses.
As the visor covered his eyes, his view changed to the drone’s camera, swooping through the clouds. He was circling the tower in a wide, lazy orbit. A preprogrammed arc, waiting for instructions.
He reached out for the digital controls. This time he saw a wireframe representation of his hand grasping the stick. He moved the virtual stick right, and the drone banked away from the tower. The controls took some getting used to, but he was able to move the drone lower and get closer to the roof.
As he swooped down, he saw Mariko crouched in the open doorway. Bobu was stalking towards her, guns blazing. She ducked back but did not return fire. Was she out of ammo? If so, he had to get Bobu’s attention, get him away from her.
He brought the drone down low and streaked over Bobu’s head. He saw the monster look up and track the aircraft as it climbed back up into the sky. Caine struggled to turn his head and regain sight of Bobu, but all he could see were clouds.
Using the map, he circled back to the top of the tower. Mariko was still crouched in the doorway, but Bobu was nowhere to be seen.
A harsh mechanical groan filled the air. Caine removed the visor and saw the window washing cart begin to ascend. The metal cables creaked and groaned as the winch sprung to life and pulled the cart back up into the housing.
The housing, damn it! The power controls must
have been in the housing, he thought. The winch suddenly halted, then jerked back to life and lowered down. The cart was descending. Bobu was onboard.
He aimed at Caine and fired.
Caine ducked closer to the windows as the bullets ricocheted around him. He jogged backwards, running down the walkway, away from the descending cart. As he circled the building, he remembered the gap in the tube: it did not connect all the way around the tower. Soon it would end, and he would have nowhere left to go. Nowhere but down, at any rate.
He heard a loud mechanical hum behind him. Another gunshot rang out, striking the walkway inches from his feet. Bobu was moving the cart sideways along the track. He was herding Caine towards the edge of the walkway.
Caine dropped to his knees. He pressed his body against the curved glass of the observation deck, trying to make himself as small a target as possible. He winced as another shot struck the glass next to his head. Up above, he saw the tiny black dot of the drone, circling overhead. He slipped the visor back over his eyes.
Taking control of the drone, he dove for the tower, falling through the clouds like a meteor from the heavens. Another bullet struck the glass behind him, but he did not flinch. The hum of the cart grew louder. Soon, he knew, Bobu would not miss his shot.
The tower came back into the drone’s view. Caine’s body swayed as he struggled to process the flood of images. He banked around the tower, picking up speed. Another shot rang out. The bullet struck his arm. He cried out, clutching the wound with his control hand.
The motion sent the drone spiraling away from the tower. Caine saw the buildings below spinning, rushing up to meet him. The cart moved closer. Caine backed away another few steps. He knew he only had a few feet left behind him.
He grit his teeth and fought through the pain. Blood dripped from the bullet wound and mixed with the droplets of rain on the walkway.
He reached out again and gripped the virtual controls. The drone righted itself and reversed course, zooming back up through the clouds.
Thomas Caine series Boxset Page 27
