by Mark McKay
Part of the wall was open; it appeared to slide back, like every other door in this country. Yamada must have come out of the gallery when he heard the explosion and that was when he ran straight into Mashida and Oyama, along with two other Japanese men Nick hadn’t seen before. They had guns covering the watchers and the man who had been taking invitations on the front door, who were all now stood flat against the wall, with their hands by their sides. The tension was palpable.
Mashida and Yamada were talking in low voices, their expressions grim. Yamada looked up at Nick’s approach.
‘This is your doing?’
Nick said nothing. Mashida said something else and then Yamada swore, or at least that was what it sounded like to Nick.
Yamada spoke to his men, who then carefully reached into their jackets and put handguns on the floor. They walked off, with one of Mashida’s men close behind.
‘They will get everyone back inside,’ said Mashida. ‘A gas canister exploded, that was all. The party will carry on as usual.’
He gestured to the open wall. ‘Come and see this.’
They all went inside, Yamada leading the way along a wood-panelled corridor to an entrance door, which he opened. They stepped into a spacious antechamber, which was softly illuminated by recessed wall lighting. Two golden lions stood sentinel on each side of the door leading to the next room, gazing impassively at the intruders with their emerald eyes, daring them to enter.
‘You were right, Nick,’ said Oyama. Everyone bar Yamada had stopped, arrested by the sight. The photos hadn’t done them justice, thought Nick. In this relatively small space, standing head and shoulders above the men looking up at them, their presence was almost sentient.
They recovered from their momentary astonishment and followed Yamada into the next room, which was a mixture of office and lounge. There was a bar area, chairs and sofas, a large flat screen television, an audio system, and a desk with a laptop. Nick counted six paintings around the walls, a mixture of cubist, impressionist and classical. He thought one might be a Renoir, but the rest eluded him. What he took to be Oyama’s swords adorned one wall, each sword hung horizontally, with a smaller short sword below it.
‘Where’s Jenna?’ he asked.
Yamada gestured at another door. ‘Passed out.’
With whatever drug you gave her to make her more compliant, thought Nick. He walked across the room and opened the door. It was a bedroom. He could make out the shape of a woman under the silk sheets on the double bed. When he did a quick check he saw she was naked under the sheet, her chest rising and falling regularly. They could wake her up later.
When he came out of the bedroom Mashida’s man had disappeared, presumably keeping watch. Oyama and Mashida were on one sofa, facing Yamada on another. Takashi Yamada’s expression was a mixture of shame and defiance.
‘Where are the other two lions?’ Nick asked.
‘Not here,’ said Yamada. ‘I bought two, only.’
‘Where was Le Roux going after Crete?’
‘I didn’t ask.’
‘I presume,’ continued Nick, ‘that it was cash on delivery. How did he get them to Japan so quickly?’
‘They were flown in. Again, I didn’t ask.’
‘You transferred money to an account somewhere. I need the details.’
There was a rapid exchange in Japanese between Yamada and Mashida. Then silence for half a minute, followed by more heated dialogue. Yamada leaned back on the sofa, looking quietly furious.
‘This is what we have agreed,’ said Mashida, rising from his seat. ‘He will give you the account details you want. He will also transfer a sum of money to a holding account for the investors he defrauded. He will not attempt to contact this Le Roux man. If he breaks the terms of the agreement, the authorities will learn about this collection of stolen art and he will be finished.’
‘What about the lions?’
‘They stay here.’
‘He’ll just move them.’
‘I will know if that happens.’
Nick sighed. ‘Fine.’ If two lions should suddenly be recovered now, that would only spook Le Roux.
‘You’ve forgotten something,’ said Oyama. He got up and walked across the room, towards the swords. ‘I’m taking these.’
As Oyama collected his swords, Yamada went across to his laptop and fired it up. Mashida joined him and five minutes later a bank transfer was complete. Yamada then browsed a few files and wrote something on a notepad. He tore off the sheet and handed it to Nick, without a word.
‘Time to go,’ said Mashida. He took one long and one short sword from Oyama, sliding the shorter one under his belt, on the hip. Oyama did the same.
‘Don’t be stupid enough to send anyone after us,’ he said to Yamada. ‘Or we will be tempted to use these.’
There were two cars waiting outside. Mariko was at the wheel of one. Nick got in front with her and Oyama and Mashida took the back seat. The two other men Mashida had brought with him waited till they were well on their way down the driveway, then followed.
Mariko glanced across. ‘Did you enjoy the party?’
Nick smiled, in spite of the tension he still felt. ‘Kate Suzuki is going to kill me.’
He heard Oyama grunt, seemingly amused, behind him. ‘Don’t worry about her. Takashi Yamada will probably kill you long before she does.’
