The Japanese man who had been singing with Bonnie warned Cain, “Get away from Bella.”
“Bella?” Cain turned to his sister. “What the hell is going on?”
“This woman is taken,” the Japanese customer said.
“It’s okay, Watanabe-san,” Bonnie said, trying to ease everyone’s tension. “This is my—” Before she could say “brother,” Watanabe told Cain, “Go find your own whore.”
Instantly Cain smashed his fist into Watanabe’s face, breaking his rose-colored sunglasses and sending him to the floor. Blood gushed from his broken nose.
Bonnie grabbed Cain and told him to stop as he was advancing toward Watanabe.
“Since when are you okay with being called a whore?” he asked his sister.
“We’ve got to get out of here,” Tanaka frantically yelled.
Before Bonnie could respond, two of Watanabe’s thugs who had been closely watching the ordeal from the crowd rushed toward Cain. One came behind him and put him in a bear hug. Cain was much bigger in height and bulk and his adrenaline was in overdrive, but this was two against one. He struggled to break free until he grabbed his attacker’s index finger and bent it back until he heard it snap like a twig. The man hollered in pain and released his hold.
Free from the bear hug, Cain turned around and stepped back a few feet to gain distance from his attackers. The one holding his broken finger was trying desperately to ease the pain, with no success. The other attacker lunged toward Cain with both hands outstretched to choke him. Cain raised his arms in a V shape and deflected the man’s momentum to the side, simultaneously jamming a knee into the advancing attacker’s solar plexus. The air left the man’s lungs and he bent forward and crumbled to the floor.
Watanabe was wiping blood from his face with his hand. “You broke my nose! You’re dead, gaijin.” He pulled back and launched a wild punch toward the left side of Cain’s face. Cain instinctively crouched and ducked under the punch. He stood back up and shoved the heel of his palm into Watanabe’s nose. The forceful strike propelled Watanabe backward. He crashed into a table and knocked over customers’ drinks and snacks.
“He’s got a knife!” Tanaka yelled out, and pointed.
Cain lifted both of his arms to protect his vital organs while he scanned the crowded bar area for the knife-wielding attacker.
The thug who had been kneed in the solar plexus had regained his breath and pulled out a shiny butterfly knife. He flipped it open, exposing the sharp blade. He slashed it twice toward Cain’s face, but Cain backstepped twice, narrowly avoiding getting cut. The attacker became impatient and lunged at Cain, thrusting the four-inch blade toward Cain’s heart. Cain sidestepped to the left and then propelled his right foot toward the attacker’s knee. Cain’s boot pushed through the attacker’s kneecap, instantly sending the man to the ground.
“Aaaaaaaayyyyy!” The fallen assailant dropped the knife and gripped his knee. He continued yelling out in pain as he flopped around on the floor like a fish out of water.
Cain was breathing heavily and assessing the damage. He saw the butterfly knife on the floor so he kicked it. He was watching it slide across the floor and under a table when Watanabe surprised him from behind, wrapping his arm around Cain’s throat. Cain tried to loosen Watanabe’s choke hold but couldn’t. Cain purposely dropped all his body weight like a sack of potatoes, forcing the men to collide on the ground. When they hit the floor, Watanabe lost his grip and Cain gulped for air.
In the struggle, Watanabe’s bloodied white dress shirt got ripped off, exposing very detailed tattoos covering most of his body. Cain had seen artwork like that only once before, but these particular depictions were seared into his mind. Across Watanabe’s chest was a fire-breathing dragon wrapping its tail around a white-faced geisha gasping for air. His back tattoo was of a falcon, wings spread out and talons clutching a bloodstained samurai sword.
They continued wrestling on the ground. Cain was used to American boxing and the skills he had learned at the Secret Service academy, but Watanabe was clearly experienced in Japanese judo. He was getting the better of Cain. Watanabe was keeping Cain close to him so Cain couldn’t use his strength or distance to pummel his assailant with powerful punches. As Watanabe wrapped his long, lean, and muscular arms around Cain’s throat again, Cain noticed that he was missing the pinky finger on his hand. Watanabe began to squeeze tighter and tighter. Cain’s face turned red and his eyes began watering as they bulged. The entire room started getting dark.
He had begun to black out when Watanabe’s grip suddenly and unexpectedly released. Tanaka had grabbed their half-drunk bottle of Dom Pérignon off their table and swung it full force into the back of Watanabe’s head. The glass shattered. Onlookers gasped as expensive champagne and blood sprayed them. Watanabe went limp.
Tanaka turned to Bonnie and Cain. “We have to leave now! Follow me, quickly!” Bonnie and Cain trailed Tanaka down the stairs and out of the building. They ran a few meters and took a turn down a back alley.
Once they finally stopped, Cain began questioning Bonnie. “What were you—” He tried to catch his breath. “What were you doing in there? Who’s Watanabe? Why did he”—Cain continued breathing heavily—“call you a whore?”
“I sometimes work here. It’s where I find a lot of my clients who want me to teach them English.”
“What?” Cain said incredulously. “I thought you were a flight attendant.”
“I have more than one job.”
“I can’t believe you’d be working at a place like that!”
“A place like what? Correct me if I’m wrong, but you and Tanaka were just in a place like that!”
“Hey, sis! It’s not like that.”
“Exactly! It’s not like that. Japanese men work very hard and they just wanna talk to American girls. There’s no sex involved.”
“Do you date them?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“Who was that Watanabe piece of shit? He was tatted up like a lifer at Angola.”
“I don’t know,” Bonnie said. “Tonight was the first night I met him.”
“First night you met him?” Cain asked incredulously. “He had his arm all over you.”
“He’s yakuza,” Tanaka interjected.
“Now you’ve done it! Beating up the yakuza will certainly piss them off,” Bonnie complained with fear in her voice. “There’s no way in hell I can even go back into the Angel Cloud now.” She seemed to be panicking. “And my purse is in there.”
Bonnie pulled her iPhone out of a small pocket on her dress. Cain could see that text messages were popping up on her screen. She turned and started walking away.
“Where are you going?” Cain asked, following her.
“Just leave me alone! You’ve caused enough problems tonight for the both of us!” Bonnie rounded the corner and called Sabrina. “I can’t go back inside after what just happened. Would you mind grabbing my purse and bringing it to me?”
Cain heard Sabrina’s raised voice when she responded. “Those men who fought the American. They took your purse.”
Chapter 50
The following morning Cain was already at his desk when Tanaka arrived at the office. It was a Saturday, and although both had the day off, their personalities were such that they wanted to occupy themselves with work.
“Good morning, boss,” Tanaka said.
“Good morning, Tanaka-san. Just because last night went to shit doesn’t mean you gotta go back to calling me ‘boss.’”
“Okay,” Tanaka replied.
Cain looked back at his computer and continued pounding on the keys to his keyboard.
“Would you like for me to turn the lights on?” Tanaka asked.
“Negative. I have a migraine. Feels like someone hit my head with an expensive bottle of champagne—even though it wasn’t my head.”
Tanaka lowered his head and spoke more softly. “I feel responsible for last night’s fight. I should have never rec
ommended we go there.”
“No, Tanaka. It’s not your fault. I got migraines before I ever moved to Japan. Doctors don’t know what causes mine. But I know one thing: all these fluorescent lights that the Japanese love so much don’t help prevent them.” Cain dropped two Alka-Seltzer tablets into a drink he was putting together and watched it fizz for a few seconds. He stirred the drink with his index finger.
“What are you drinking?” Tanaka asked.
“Homemade concoction.”
“Should I even ask?”
“To get rid of this pounding headache and hangover. Ice-brewed coffee, two shots of espresso, two Alka-Seltzer tablets, and ten drops of Tabasco sauce. Any flavor will work, but the habanero one works the best, I find.”
“That does not sound very good,” Tanaka said with a sour face.
“It’s not, but you remember what ol’ Frank Rogers would say?”
“In an emergency, even the Devil eats flies.”
“That’s right. The Devil is used to eating Kobe fillet steaks, but he’ll eat flies in an emergency.”
“I hope it helps,” Tanaka said, not sounding very convinced of the drink’s medicinal qualities.
Cain gulped it down. His eyes closed and his face scrunched up. “It’s gooood.”
“If there is anything I can do, please let me know.” Tanaka turned to head to his cubicle.
“Wait. Before you leave, I do have a few questions.”
“Hai,” Tanaka said, turning back around.
“I’ve been researching the yakuza more,” Cain continued, “and there’s very little information about them.”
“More?” Tanaka asked, not realizing that Cain had already been looking into Japan’s secret society of organized criminals.
“What did you think about that one guy’s tattoo?”
“Irezumi are taboo in Japan. People with tattoos are prohibited from public beaches, fitness gyms, and onsens. Only yakuza and Westerners in Japan have irezumi.”
“There’s gotta be exceptions, right?” Cain was thinking about Sato but didn’t want to mention anything yet.
“I don’t know of any exceptions.”
“So, just from the tattoo, you knew they were yakuza?”
“That. And also his pinky. It was cut off.”
“Yeah,” Cain said. “I saw that when I was wrestling with him.”
“The yakuza’s pinkies are cut off when they are punished, or to show their loyalty to the organization.”
“I’ve seen that before in a movie. Eighties flick with Michael Douglas. You know what I can’t quite understand?”
“Please tell me.”
“Every single Japanese person I’ve met has been nothing but incredibly polite. You said it yourself: the nail that sticks out gets hammered down. But Watanabe called Bonnie a whore.”
Tanaka nodded and looked away—perhaps from embarrassment or shame. “Yakuza view women as property. My father, the inspector, also tells me that the yakuza are very vindictive. They are also involved in drug smuggling, human trafficking, illegal gambling, and blackmailing politicians.”
“I thought there was no corruption in this country,” Cain said facetiously.
“It is very rare. I’ve never seen it. I’ve only heard about it.”
“That’s my point. Bonnie and I are in trouble, especially if they have her purse. They’ll know where she lives and works.”
“You and Bonnie are gaijin. Yakuza will probably leave you alone.”
“Probably?” Cain asked with raised eyebrows. “I don’t like those odds.”
“Yakuza will not want the international attention.”
Cain scoffed. “You don’t know the kind of luck I have. Trouble finds me no matter where I’m at.”
Chapter 51
“I miss my iPhone,” Cain told Tanaka as he was digging into his jacket pocket to answer the call on his Sharp Aquos smartphone. “That SoftBank woman told me this was supposed to be the best, but you just can’t beat Apple.”
“I prefer Android,” Tanaka said. “It’s more customizable.”
“Says the man who wears a dark suit and white button-down to work every day,” Cain quipped.
“I’m Japanese on the outside but American on the inside. Banana was my nickname at Embry-Riddle. You get it?”
“Yeah.” Cain laughed along with Tanaka. “I get it. Yellow on the outside, white on the inside.” His laughter was interrupted by the ringing of his phone. He answered it.
“Ohio gozaimasu,” Cain heard Umiko say.
Without even thinking about it, Cain stood to talk to her. “Good morning, Umiko-san. How’s your Saturday going?”
“I have some good news to share with you.”
“That’s wonderful. I can use some good news.”
“Sensei said you can join our kendo class.”
“That’s better than good—that’s fantastic news! When do I start?”
“We have a class this afternoon if you are not busy.”
“I’ll wrap up some things here at the office, and I’ll be there.”
“I look forward to seeing you,” she said.
A few hours later, Cain caught the train and showed up for the afternoon kendo class. Umiko greeted him when he walked in the door.
“Oh, my God. Are you okay?” she asked, noticing the scratches on his face.
“I’m okay, but I obviously need this martial arts class,” he said lightheartedly.
She smiled but continued to look concerned. “Well, I’m very glad you are now in the class.”
“Me, too. But I gotta ask. Are you just glad because you’re looking forward to using me as your personal punching bag?”
Umiko giggled. “Maybe, but you won’t be the only new student for us to practice on. We have two new students from the university. But you will be the only foreigner.”
“I’m getting used to being the only gaijin in my circles.”
“Let me introduce you to my kendo friends. They speak English, but they are shy. So they may not talk too much. Please understand they are not being rude.”
“That’s fine. I’ll just speak to ’em in Japanese.”
“Really?” Umiko asked, looking surprised, as they neared a small group of students.
“I’ve been studying a language book my sister gave me.”
“I’m impressed.” She turned to a young woman. “Hiroko-san, this is my American friend. He’s in charge of security at our company. His name is Cain-san.”
Cain placed his arms by his side and bowed. “Hajime mashita.”
Hiroko put her hand over her mouth as she giggled.
“Hey, now. If you’re going to laugh at my Japanese, I’m not going to speak it anymore.”
“I’m so sorry. I’m not laughing. Your Japanese is very good.”
Cain smirked. “Remind me to never partner with you at the poker table. On the streets in a kendo fight? Yes. But never when you have to hide your true feelings.”
Hiroko didn’t seem to get the reference. “Have you studied kendo before?”
“I’ve never taken a formal kendo class, but I have watched a lot of Steven Seagal movies.”
Umiko picked up on the joke and laughed. When Hiroko saw this, she followed suit.
“You should come to our retreat this weekend,” Hiroko suggested.
“Retreat? Like a ladies’ day at the spa?”
“Even better,” Hiroko replied. “A Zen retreat for the weekend. We go every year. Our sensei takes us to the foot of Mount Fuji. We will meditate and practice kendo. One weekend of intense kendo training there is like a month of training here. It is a wonderful time.”
“Sato-san has no engagements this weekend,” Cain said. “I technically have off work.” He looked at Umiko. “Are you going?”
“Yes. This will be my second year. I really liked it.”
“Okay,” Cain said. “I’ll give it some thought. If I’m invited, that is.”
“Yes,” Hiroko said. “Everyone in
the class is invited, even new students.”
“We should get ready for class,” Umiko said. “If we are late, sensei makes us do push-ups. I hate doing push-ups.”
“I don’t mind the push-ups,” Cain said. “But I agree with you about not being late.”
Umiko handed him the protective gear. “Since this is your first class, you can borrow this equipment. But you’re going to want to buy your own soon. Unless you like putting on sweaty bogu.”
Cain burst out laughing. “Bogu? I’m not sure if I like mine sweaty or not yet.”
Umiko giggled.
“I’ll buy my own—that is, if I make it past this class without getting killed.”
“I’ve seen you in action. This class might be boring for you.”
“I’m never bored when I’m with you.” He smiled, and she blushed.
The class lasted an hour, and Cain enjoyed it. It’s more than just a workout, he thought. It requires strategy.
Because the sensei was a Zen priest, at the end of class, he provided a Zen quote for the students to ponder until their next class. All the students bowed in unison and profusely thanked the instructor. They then bowed to one another and gave thanks to their classmates for allowing them to train with one another to get better.
“What did the sensei say?” Cain asked Umiko.
“He gave us a quote from Buddha. He said, ‘Just as the snake sheds its skin over and over, we must shed our past.’ Sensei said that is the secret to mushin.”
“Mushin,” Cain repeated. “I remember that word. No mind. That’s deep. I thought we were here to learn how to sword fight.”
Umiko giggled again.
“Well, at least you get my sense of humor. Sometimes it goes over Tanaka’s head.”
“Tanaka needs a girlfriend,” Umiko said with light humor.
“I think he found one last night,” Cain joked.
“Really?”
“I’ll tell you about it over dinner.”
“It’s not too late for you? You always work very early.”
“I rarely sleep. So, no. It’s not too late for me. Is it too late for you?”
Cajun Justice Page 19
