My Yakuza

by A. J. Llewellyn

  “What’ll you have?” the thirty-something bartender asked over the music.

  “Gimme a whisky and ginger ale.”

  The bartender placed the drink on a napkin in front of Shiro and took the ticket with a smile. A couple of the men in the bar were checking him out and he felt self-conscious for some reason. He was perfectly comfortable in the meat market that was often the atmosphere in gay clubs, but tonight he felt as if he was cheating on Kono were he to encourage any attention from others.

  Every time the door opened, Shiro tensed up, expecting to see uniformed police officers or worse, Asian men in suits. As the next hour passed, Shiro ordered two more drinks and tipped the bartender generously so that if he needed any help he might be able to count on it from the bar.

  “May I join you?” a guy in his twenties asked with a smile.

  Jolted out of his concentration on the door, Shiro looked at the guy as if he had two heads. “Oh, sorry, I’m actually waiting for a blind date who’s supposed to be here any moment. Maybe some other time?” he asked trying to let the guy down easily.

  “Oh, sure. Do you come here often?” he asked.

  “Once in a while. I’ll look for you the next time I’m in here, okay?” Shiro asked trying to get rid of the guy.

  “Wonderful. I like Asian men and would enjoy your company.”

  Shiro didn’t know what else to say so he said, “Thank you,” and smiled.

  As the man walked away, the door once again opened and this time, a tall good-looking Asian walked in that Shiro recognised from the photos at once—it was Kono. Now his stomach flip-flopped not knowing how the conversation would go down between himself and his supposed target. He continued to watch the door as Kono began to look around, to see if other officers would enter. None followed and Shiro breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe this meeting would go down as he had hoped.

  Kono took his time, looking around to see if he felt any danger. His senses were heightened beyond what was normal. It wasn’t every day he was in the bar to meet a man who told him it was his job to kill him. As he looked around, Kono saw no reason for alarm until his eyes landed on the nervous Asian-looking guy at the bar. His hand automatically slid to his right hip to reassure himself that his police-issue weapon was still where it was supposed to be. Having felt the familiar hard bulge, Kono walked towards the far end of the bar as Shiro watched him. With one final check around, Kono felt it was safe to approach the man nursing the dregs of what looked like whisky. He took the seat next to the guy and gave his ticket to the bartender and ordered a beer.

  “Are you the person who called me?”

  “Yeah. My name is Shiro, and you’re Kono, right?”

  “Yep. Now that the introductions are finished, you better explain quickly what your phone call meant before I slam your face into the bar.”

  “Okay, don’t be hostile! I told you I had no intention of carrying out my instructions, which places not only my life in jeopardy but the lives of two women in Japan, one of them being my mother. So, just chill out and realise that I’m a victim here.”

  “Who sent you and why?”

  “Someone you know…Nobuo of the Yakuza in Tokyo. As for why, I assume it has something to do with the arrest of Shun’ichi Harada and your pending testimony. The Yaks wanna shut you up for good and are trying to use me as the means. Another complication for me is that the Tinaken clan here in New York is trying to kill me so I can’t get to you. I’m pretty sure they killed a woman who was known as Chizu who worked for the Harada clan and was babysitting me here in New York. When a man answered her cell phone that only she should be answering, I realised she’d been had.”

  “What was the purpose of her babysitting you?”

  “For one thing, to tell me where to get the gun I’m supposed to use on you if I choose to shoot you, and to give me things that I need while in New York. The other reason was to make sure that I carried out my assignment or she was probably supposed to kill me.”

  “How did the Yaks get a hold of your mother?”

  “Ah, that’s a long story, but suffice it to say that Shun’ichi Harada personally lured her to Japan and she has been under his control ever since. I think she may already be dead but I can’t take the chance that she isn’t.”

  “And the other woman?”

  “A friend, nothing more. She’s a sweet, silly girl who works as a hooker for the clan. She gave me information on the last place my mom was seen…a love hotel. I guess she asked the wrong people, because next thing I knew, I was being hauled out of the parasite museum and then—”

  “The parasite museum?” Kono shook his head. “Kid, slow down.”

  “I can’t. He sent me this picture just as I was boarding the flight to New York.” Shiro opened the phone and brought up the picture of Miki in a cage.

  “Did they give that phone to you?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Get rid of it. They can track you through the GPS chip inside the phone. The longer you carry that, the more chance you got of being located.”

  “I never thought of that. I’ll get rid of it when I leave here tonight…but what if they can’t find me? They’ll kill Miki for sure.”

  Kono took a pull on his beer. Maybe he could have the cell phone number moved to a different phone. A police-issue phone. His thoughts raced.

  “Why did you choose to risk their lives instead of carrying out my murder?”

  “Because I’m not a killer. The only reason I was involved with them in Tokyo was to locate my mother. The only thing I did for them was bike messenger.”

  “How long has your mom been missing?”

  “A little over a month. She…we live in Honolulu. She’s a good lady…honest…but she likes money and occasionally sleeps with men for it. I’m a student. I can’t support her the way she wants. But Shun’ichi was different—to her, anyway. I personally never met the guy. He lured her to Japan, which is where she’s from. She was desperate to go. She sounded really happy at first…then sad…and then…she just stopped calling.”

  Kono started to feel sorry for the kid who looked as if he was gonna bawl. He was handsome, in a stressed out kind of way. Kono felt Shiro’s fear and could smell the isolation, the panic.

  “My grandma got a phone call one day saying my mom was dead. My uncle at the bank arranged for me to get to Tokyo and to start an entry-level job with the Harada clan. I was there for a month before they realised I was Siono’s son.”

  Kono had heard enough of the sob story. He didn’t want to feel compassion, or even attraction for the guy.

  “Okay, I think I get the picture. You’re not a killer, and you’re not a mob guy, so where do you go from here and what do you want from me?”

  “That’s just it. I haven’t a clue. Can you help me figure out how to get my mother out of Japan and set my friend free without getting myself killed?”

  “How about if I move this building a few feet to the left with my pinky finger? That might be easier.”

  Shiro seemed to sag.

  Kono tried to temper his frustration. “Do you know if you’re being followed?”

  “I was at one point since they knew where I had dinner yesterday. But when the man answered Chizu’s phone, I bailed on the apartment that I was being kept in by the Harada clan. I figured my location had been compromised and I split through the back door, took a cab and checked into the Baxter hotel a couple blocks from here.”

  “Where’s the gun you said they got for you?”

  “On me, in my waistband.”

  “Get up and go into the bathroom and wash your hands. I’ll be right behind you and don’t do anything stupid,” Kono warned.

  Shiro got up and headed for the door with the standard symbol mounted on it indicating that it was a men’s rest room. He opened the door and went in and was immediately hit with the smell of urine and cleaning solutions. The odour was enough to make him sick. Before he could really think about it, the door opened and Kono came in
right behind him. They were alone for the moment.

  “Give me the gun, now. Use just your thumb and forefinger to hand it over, not your entire hand.”

  Shiro reached into his pants and took out the gun as instructed and gave it to Kono who dropped the clip out, and pulled back the slide, clearing the weapon. He stuffed the gun down his own pants and pocketed the clip as well as the round that was ejected onto the floor.

  “You get caught with this by the police and you’d either end up doing five years mandatory or dead. Any other weapons?”

  “No, that was enough, wasn’t it?”

  “Just checking. Okay, here’s how we’re going to do this. What room are you in at the Baxter?”

  “Room five-thirty-four.”

  “Fuck, it would have to be the fifth floor. It’s never the first or second floor, no it’s always way the hell up in the building,” Kono moaned.

  “What? You’re coming to the hotel?”

  “Well, it’s not like we can just go outside and climb into my police vehicle and go downtown, now is it? You go back to the room and wait for me. I’ll be there within the hour. Is there a way into that dump from a fire escape or back door?”

  “I’m not sure. I didn’t look out the window or for other exits.”

  “That’s a mistake in your position. You should always know how the hell to get out of a place that you might get trapped in. Okay, that’s my issue. You get there and stay put.”

  They walked back out to their bar stools and sat down.

  Techno music started to thump, vibrating off the walls and it seemed to bounce off Shiro’s recent root canal, not to mention his wounded chest. The music stopped them from talking. He was happy to be silent for a while. Finally, he couldn’t stand it. He had to say something. He snatched the moment, between tracks.

  “Thanks, Kono.”

  “For what?”

  “I really didn’t know what to do. It’s been a nightmare.”

  “It still is, guy. You’re not out of this mess, yet. But thanks for not blowing me away.”

  Shiro didn’t like the, you’re part. He’d been hoping for we. He took in the dark almost black eyes of the cop. Shiro felt something stir in his pants as he got his first really good look at Kono’s eyes.

  Kono seemed to notice the change in the air between the two men, and fidgeted on his bar stool.

  “I know you said to get rid of the phone, but I need to call my grandma…I’m afraid, too, of what will happen to the women.”

  “Didn’t your daddy ever tell you women are trouble?”

  “I don’t have a daddy. But yeah, women are trouble.”

  Kono lifted a hand. “I may have a solution to the cell phone. Tell you what, for now, leave it with me.”

  Shiro hesitated.

  Kono seemed surprised. “You don’t trust me?”

  “I’m frightened.”

  Kono covered his hand briefly. “I know you are, Shiro. Now give me the phone.”

  Shiro handed it over and left the bar. He headed towards the hotel as fast as he could. His sense of danger and aloneness seemed to have vastly increased since meeting the man he was ordered to kill. Shiro felt all sides beginning to close in on him, and he wasn’t sure how he was going to get out of the situation alive. He hoped that Kono was smart as well as good looking. Shiro had the advantage in that department at least. He knew that Kono was supposedly gay but Kono had no clue as to Shiro’s sexuality.

  He finally reached the hotel lobby and walked over to the desk instead of the elevator. The same guy was still on duty, which surprised Shiro.

  “Don’t you ever go home?” he asked.

  “I’m here seven days a week, ten hours a day. You need something?”

  “I was just wondering if anyone had stopped by for me while I was out, that’s all,” he responded.

  “Nope, quiet as a graveyard around here. You expecting someone?” the man asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “Maybe, but I don’t like surprises. If someone should come in asking about me, or describe me, please just say you don’t know anyone like that, okay? There’s only one person who knows me and that I’m here. Anyone else I’m not interested in seeing them.”

  The desk clerk’s senses seemed to have shifted to full alert. “What’s going on? You in some kind of police trouble? We don’t need no damn cops coming in here breaking up the place looking for you. Maybe it’s better if you leave, now,” he said as he got up from his creaky-looking chair.

  No, there’s no trouble, I just like my privacy, that’s all,” Shiro said trying to calm him down.

  “Okay, but remember what I said if you’re lying. Out on your ass you’ll go if I see one cop who doesn’t know you as his long-lost buddy.”

  “Look,” Shiro said now leaning over the counter, “I know you got whores in here and that this is a slap and tickle hotel that you rent out rooms by the hour. I don’t care about that and neither does my friend. I just don’t want you giving out any information on any Asian guys staying here, okay?”

  “Okay, as long as you’re telling me the truth, then fine. I’ve never seen you.”

  Shiro smiled. “Now was that so hard?”

  Chapter Five

  Kono had some useful contacts. It didn’t take him long to reach the back door of Homo-Sapien, and his friend Ron, a serious computer geek most people would call anti-social, but whom Kono considered to be a godsend. Ron held sway at the rear of the serious, underground leather bar where he booked clients for a couple of bondage masters. Well, more than a couple. He booked clients for dozens of bondage masters, an assortment of dominatrixes and a few hard-core hookers who booked rooms in some of the cheap hotels in the neighbourhood. Ron was a very fat white guy whose going rate was two cheese pizzas and a hundred bucks.

  As Kono passed the parade of tops and bottoms in the leather bar, he wondered how low a man’s self-worth had to be to allow another man to walk him around on a leash.

  He knocked on Ron’s door. Ron’s lover, Swoo, opened it, looked at the pizza cartons and the crisp new Benjamin on top of it.

  “Haven’t seen you here in a while, detective.”

  Swoo was a sweetheart. A transgendered female to male, she looked after Ron, ran the bar with a velvet fist and wielded bottles of bleach washing the joint down at the end of each night like a proper haus frau.

  “Sorry, Swoo. I’ve missed you.”

  She grinned. “Come on in.”

  He handed Ron the cell phone from Japan. Ron cracked his knuckles.

  “Whadda we got here?”

  He took the phone, holding it in two fingers, examining it closely. Kono worked hard not to stare at the multiple screens in front of the guy. Several quick flicks revealed Ron was monitoring a peep show somewhere on the premises, a crying guy shackled in the dungeon begging his Sir to piss on him…and Second Life. Ron loved that particular alternate universe.

  Ron was a respectful, business-like guy who’d proved useful to the cops from various precincts so everybody left him alone. He had his limits though, and when he glanced back at Kono, the cop made sure his gaze was firmly on the cell phone.

  “This is a nice one. Got a problem with it?” Ron asked.

  “It’s bugged.”

  “Naw. It ain’t bugged. It’s got a fancy-schmancy tracking device. Very nice. What do you want me to do with it?”

  “I want you to remove all the info from that phone to another one and lose the tracking signal.”

  “You want that I should print out the incoming and outgoing calls?”

  “Sure.”

  The expression on Ron’s face indicated another Benjamin was in order, but Kono was fresh out of hundreds. He broke off five twenties from his wallet, amused at the pained expression on the guy’s face.

  Ron tinkered a few minutes longer and handed over a new cell phone.

  “You got some time to check on the photos in that thing?” Kono asked.

  “He’s got a few. What’s his n
ame? Ye Yu? What…is he Japanese?”

  The phone was registered to somebody called Ye Yu? Kono took hold of the new cell phone and the printed call log.

  “There’s one photo I’m interested in.” He pointed to the picture of Miki in the cage.

  “Oh, wow,” Swoo said. “A bird in a cage.”

  “What do you want from it?” Ron asked.

  “Do you think it’s authentic?”

  Ron glanced at it. “I have no way of knowing right now. Leave it with me.”

  “Great. Thanks.”

  “It’ll cost you,” Ron said.

  What a fucking surprise.

  Kono left, his cell phone ringing.

  It was Gen. “Remember. Be willing to receive ninety-nine per cent of an opponent’s full force and stare death in the face.”

  Fuck that. Kono wanted to live. Fate could go point its fickle, fucking finger someplace else.

  * * * *

  Shiro headed over to the rickety elevator and took it to the fifth floor, and as he walked down the hall towards his room, he heard laughter coming from one of the rooms. It was a female voice. When he closed the door to his room, he felt like collapsing on the bed. The exchange with the desk clerk had gotten him all riled up and nervous. Man, he could still taste the greasy chicken kabobs, too. He didn’t know what he’d do if he was forced to leave the Baxter before meeting with Kono who would then believe that Shiro was lying.

  He needed a drink but had nothing in the room but water. He paced the floor for a few minutes trying to calm himself down. As he paced, he ran the entire scenario through his head again. His trip to Japan, what he’d learnt while working for the Yakuza, his mother’s trail, and his present situation in New York. All of it ran through his mind like a runaway freight train. He knew there was a solution staring him in the face, but he just couldn’t see it. Maybe Kono would be able to come up with a plan.