Cajun Justice

by James Patterson

  Umiko’s eyes widened. “A helicopter?”

  “It’s the safest and the quickest way,” he replied.

  She breathed in through her teeth. “I will talk to Sato-san about this. I think it is possible.”

  Cain smiled. “Good. Thank you very much. This is very helpful.”

  “I’m happy to help you,” she said.

  Cain caught himself staring at the warmth of her smile and the kindness in her eyes. “I’ve gotta run now. I’m about to teach self-defense to my team.”

  “You know karate?”

  “Well, it’s not karate per se. It’s more like American boxing.”

  “Do you like the martial arts?”

  “Yes, I do. Very much.”

  “Me, too.” Umiko’s face seemed to brighten. “I take kendo lessons three times a week.”

  Cain was impressed. She’s beautiful, kind, speaks three languages, and can probably kick my ass! he thought.

  “Kendo is like sword fighting,” she said, “but we don’t use a sword. We use a shinai—a wooden bamboo stick that takes the place of the katana, the sword. Kendo is more popular with women than judo or karate.”

  “I’d love to watch one of your classes someday,” Cain said.

  “Would you like to come tonight? I have class at seven.”

  He was caught off guard by her forwardness. Most Japanese he had interacted with were very timid, but he appreciated her confidence. “I’d love that.”

  “Great! I will swing by your office at six,” she said.

  “As long as you ain’t swinging a”—Cain paused to remember the word—“a shinai or katana at me.”

  She smiled. “We can take the train to my dojo. I hope you will like it.”

  He returned the smile. “I’m sure I will. I already do.” He left her office and headed back to the security department with a spring in his step.

  Chapter 41

  Cain looked up from his desk. Tanaka was standing at the doorway.

  “May I come in, Cain-san?”

  “Of course, Tanaka. I have an open-door policy. You don’t have to ask for permission.”

  “Are you almost finished with work for the evening?”

  “What’s up?”

  “I was planning to go to the Hard Rock Cafe. They have a live band tonight. It’s a Journey cover band.”

  “I love Journey. Their new Filipino lead singer, Arnel, is fantastic!”

  “The cover band is not as good as the real band—”

  “They never are,” Cain said.

  “But they are good. And I love the American nachos at Hard Rock.”

  Cain laughed out loud—one of those boisterous laughs that come with being in a great mood.

  “What’s so funny?” Tanaka asked.

  “I’ve never thought of nachos as American, but I guess they are in some weird way. I would love to join you, but—”

  A soft knock at the open door interrupted his conversation with Tanaka. It was Umiko.

  “But,” Cain continued, “I’m going to kendo class tonight.”

  “I see,” Tanaka said. “You really like Japanese culture, don’t you?”

  “More and more every day,” Cain replied.

  “Eto, I can’t wait to hear all about it tomorrow morning,” Tanaka said.

  “It’s a deal, and rain check on the American nachos.”

  “I’m going to have to really study English expressions to understand some things you say,” Tanaka said.

  “I know, buddy. I use a lot of slang.” Cain sang “Don’t stop believin’” in his best Steve Perry voice as he ushered Tanaka out of his office. Cain flipped the light switch, and he and Umiko headed to the station where they caught the train to the dojo.

  “Umiko-san, I’m really excited to watch your kendo class tonight. Are you the best student?”

  “Some are better than me,” she humbly said.

  “And I bet you’re better than some—perhaps most,” Cain replied. “How many students are in the class?”

  “Ten.”

  “Just ten?”

  “Martial arts used to be much more popular in Japan, but now everybody wants to play tennis, golf, or especially baseball.”

  “Baseball can be fun to play, but it’s boring to watch. Second only to golf.”

  “American influence has really made baseball popular. And it’s more of a team sport, whereas the martial arts are all about disciplining the individual’s body and mind.” She pointed to the sky. “And I cannot forget. My sensei always says kendo is also to cultivate a rigorous—no, that’s not right—a vigorous spirit. A lot of sports focus on making the body strong. But fighting without discipline and rules is just violence. That’s why the martial arts have tradition and religion.”

  “Good point,” Cain noted. “It wasn’t until I joined a boxing gym in high school that I learned how important the mind is in fighting. Control your fear and try to outsmart your opponent.”

  “We’re here,” she said with excitement as they approached a nondescript multilevel building.

  “Well, that’s convenient for everyone—to have the dojo so close to the train station.”

  “Hai.”

  “It’s not what I expected,” Cain said.

  “Really? What were you expecting?”

  “I guess I was expecting some type of traditional hut outside town—in a small village. Definitely someplace more remote than next to the train station.”

  Umiko giggled. “The martial arts are already dying in Japan. Imagine if the dojo was outside the city.”

  Cain followed Umiko through the doorway. They took the narrow stairs to the second floor. He knew immediately upon entering the large open-bay room that he was in a sacred place. The walls and floor were constructed of wood, and he could see martial arts equipment hanging on the walls. There was a small entryway with several cubbies and shelves filled with shoes. Umiko had slipped off her shoes and deposited them into an empty cubbyhole before Cain had even removed his first boot.

  “I really need to get some slip-on shoes if I’m gonna stay in Japan,” he said as he struggled to figure out how his boot would fit in one of the empty wooden cubbyholes.

  Umiko giggled under her breath. “I like your boots. You should keep them,” she said with a shy smile.

  Umiko showed Cain where the visitors sat: in a loft just outside the training floor. The loft was designed to give spectators just enough distance away from students dangerously swinging their forty-two-inch shinai practice swords. There were eight wooden chairs in a line against the wall.

  “Do you need anything?” Umiko asked. Cain was touched that she was paying extra attention to his comfort.

  “Nah, I’m good.”

  “Great. I have to go change now. I’ll be back soon.”

  The students started trickling out of the locker room wearing their kendo uniforms. The uniform consisted of a white pajama-like jacket, a pair of baggy black trousers that looked like a skirt, and plenty of protective equipment for the head, forearms, and chest. Some students were already wearing their head protection, while others were cradling it in the crook of their elbows.

  An older man dressed in a worn martial arts gi started ceremonially beating a large drum in the corner. The beat echoed throughout the training hall. Cain could feel its vibrations. The drum seemed to represent the start of the class, since all the students uniformly got in line: three rows of three, and one row of one. The instructor, a small Japanese man who looked to be in his late sixties, approached the front of the class and yelled out something in Japanese. The students bowed to the instructor and then paired off.

  For the next hour, students screamed and shouted “Kia!” as they swung their shinai at one another’s heads and torsos. Their strikes were so fast that often Cain couldn’t even see the contact that had been made. When the class ended, the students removed their sweat-soaked protective face shields. The majority went to the locker room to change, but Umiko headed straight for
Cain. Her hair was pulled up in a bun. The glistening sweat on her face, paired with her nimble prance, made her appear ethereal.

  “I’m so thirsty,” she said.

  “I’m happy to get you some water. There are at least five million vending machines in this country.”

  She giggled. “How about an Asahi?”

  “An adult beverage? Even better! I can use a cold one myself after watching you tonight. You are fierce!”

  Umiko smiled with a slight bow. “Arigato gozaimasu. I’ll be right back. I’m going to change into normal clothes.”

  Cain assumed Umiko was going to change into some casual clothes, but when she emerged from the locker room, she was dressed up and well put together.

  “I know just the perfect place for us to get a drink,” she said. “It’s walking distance, too.”

  “I’m down.”

  After a couple of minutes of walking, they arrived at a popular beer garden with a bunch of outside seats. Umiko and Cain found an empty bench and plopped down.

  “How did you enjoy the class tonight?” Umiko asked.

  “You were amazing. Remind me to never get into a fight with you.”

  Umiko blushed. “Are you joking with me? You know we Japanese have a difficult time recognizing American sarcasm.”

  Cain laughed. “Not at all. You’re a real badass. If you ever wanna switch from executive assistant to being on my security detail, let me know. I’ll be happy to have you.”

  She smiled. “Japan might be changing a little bit, but not enough for Sato-san to have a female on his security detail.”

  “That’s too bad,” Cain said. “The Secret Service uses women to protect the president.”

  “But probably not a lot, huh?”

  “Women make up about 10 percent.”

  “Why did you decide to leave the Secret Service and move to Japan?”

  “Because I was interested in studying kendo.”

  “Really?”

  He laughed. “Nah, I’m just joking.”

  “See? I told you we don’t get American sarcasm.”

  “But I would be interested in taking kendo with you.”

  “I can ask the sensei if that is okay. You would be the first gaijin in the class.”

  “I’ve heard that word a lot since I’ve been here.”

  Umiko smiled. “It would be fun to have you in the class.”

  “Are gaijin allowed?”

  “I don’t think the sensei would mind. He is also a Zen priest. He quotes Zen philosophy a lot. Like, ‘If you light a candle for somebody else, it also brightens your path.’ And my favorite: ‘A rising tide lifts all boats.’”

  “I like that one. I’ll have to put that in the back pocket and meditate on it.”

  “You meditate?”

  “Not really. It’s just a saying. Speaking of sayings, what was it your sensei kept yelling in class?”

  “Mushin.”

  “Moo-shin,” Cain repeated. “What does it mean?”

  “It means ‘no mind.’ Block out every distraction and focus only on the present.”

  “That’s hard to do, especially in our rushed society,” Cain said. “The past has a way of haunting us.”

  “I know,” Umiko said. “That’s why I love kendo. It has helped me out so much.”

  Cain leaned in. “What do you mean?”

  Umiko opened her mouth and paused. She seemed sad. It was the first time Cain had seen this fun and energetic lady look mournful.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked,” he said.

  “No, it’s okay. When I was eighteen years old, in high school, I was in love with my first real boyfriend. He was so studious before we met. He wanted to be a Japan Airlines pilot. But I took him away from his studies a lot. I always wanted to go to the movies, or to the mall, or to the park. College exams are very important here in Japan. The family places so much pressure on passing these exams, and he didn’t pass his.”

  “Did he retake them?”

  “No.” Umiko looked down at the table. “He killed himself.”

  “Oh, God. I’m so sorry. My God. That is just horrible.”

  “I blamed myself for a long time.”

  “But it wasn’t your fault.”

  “I thought, had I not taken him away from his studies, he would have learned more and made a better grade.”

  “You can’t blame yourself.”

  “I did, though. For a long time. I lost ten kilograms and started hanging out with the wrong crowd. Kendo turned my life around. It taught me how to find inner peace by blending the mind and body with the spiritual.”

  “That’s wonderful. You’ve sold me. Yes, please talk to the sensei and let him know I would consider it an honor to be accepted into his class.”

  Umiko clapped her hands together. “I will be happy to.”

  “But it’ll have to be next week because until then I’m spending all my time making sure my team is prepared to make this press conference go off without a hitch.”

  “With you in charge, we have nothing to worry about.”

  Chapter 42

  Cain spent the next several days at work interviewing and hiring three additional guards. In the States, these guards would have been more tactically inclined, but in Japan, they seemed to be more service oriented. A little bit of something is better than a whole lot of nothing, he reminded himself. At least I have a few extra bodies that I can mold and eventually turn into executive protection specialists.

  He conducted self-defense courses, oversaw the implementation of new security cameras, and, in the lot behind the building, watched some of the security team learn how to operate and fly the new drone they had purchased.

  “This is a hell of a lot harder than flying an actual plane,” Cain said as he manipulated the drone’s control module. “I should have hired some teenagers. Give ’em a bag of Doritos and some Mountain Dew and they’d fly this thing for free!”

  After crashing the drone a few times, he let Tanaka try. Tanaka flew it well.

  “How are you flying this so well? I’m the licensed pilot with over a thousand hours under my belt!”

  “I am part of the Tokyo aero club,” Tanaka said. “I build and fly remote-controlled airplanes on the weekends.”

  “That’s good to know,” Cain said. “I’d like to go with you one weekend.”

  “I would be happy for you to come.”

  Cain directed everyone back into the building for another all-hands meeting.

  “We have to be prepared for any type of attack,” he warned once everyone was huddled into the break room. “But you’re probably well aware that statistically, knife attacks are the most common in Japan. A few things to remember about knife attacks. Rule number one is don’t get cut. Rule number two is, if you do get cut, don’t freak out. Chances are slim that it’s life-threatening. And most importantly, rule number three is always control the hand with the knife. If there are no questions, let’s head outside and act out some scenarios.”

  One of the guards said something in Japanese that made Tanaka laugh.

  “What did he say?” Cain asked.

  Tanaka smiled. “He said this used to be an easy job before you showed up.”

  Cain chuckled. “It’s still easier than digging ditches in Louisiana. Did I ever tell you about my first job?”

  “No, but I’m interested.”

  “One evening over sake, I’ll tell you all about it. But I’m not ever staying at a capsule hotel again!”

  They laughed together. Their working partnership was forming well.

  After practicing knife-disarming techniques with fake knives, Cain pulled aside Morita-san. “Normally, Secret Service agents who drive the American president receive months of specialized driver training. Everything from counter-ambush recognition, J-turns, bootleggers, other evasive maneuvers, and ramming techniques.”

  Mr. Morita looked at Cain in confusion.

  “I realize all those terms have no meaning to
you, and that tomorrow you will not be driving Sato-san to the press conference because we’re taking a helicopter. But that doesn’t mean you have the day off. You still have to drive the car to the conference just in case we have any problems with the helicopter. Murphy’s Law.”

  “Mur-fee?” Morita-san asked.

  “It means what can go wrong will go wrong. We’re under the gun and simply don’t have enough time to go over everything. So I just want to make sure you understand a few basics about driving a VIP.”

  “Driving what?”

  “It’s an acronym,” Cain replied. “VIP. Very important person.”

  “What is acronym?”

  “Never mind that. The protectee must be kept safe.”

  “Pro-tect-tee?” Mr. Morita pronounced each syllable as if it were a question.

  Frustrated, Cain just replied, “Sato-san!”

  “Hai!” Morita-san nodded his head vigorously up and down in recognition.

  “Hai,” Cain muttered under his breath.

  Chapter 43

  The helicopter pilot was adamant that it was too dangerous to fly because of the marine layer that had formed over the water. A light ocean breeze had blown fog toward the city, and it hovered from about one hundred feet above the ground to at least one thousand feet.

  “Any chopper pilot worth his salt could easily fly through this cloud layer,” Cain told Tanaka. “That’s what the instruments are for.”

  Tanaka sucked air through his teeth. “The pilot said the company policy requires at least one-mile visibility.”

  Cain shook his head in disbelief. He looked skyward, momentarily thinking back to his flying career, during which he’d flown countless missions referencing just the instruments in the cockpit. He turned to Mr. Morita. “Murphy’s Law.”

  “Hai! Mur-fee.” Morita smiled nonchalantly.

  Cain looked back at Tanaka. “Our team isn’t ready for a ground movement like this. I’m going to go talk with Sato-san.” He walked into the main office and approached Sato, who was rehearsing his speech.

  “The helicopter is not available today,” Cain informed him.