Cajun Justice

by James Patterson

  “Why am I in danger?” Her eyes widened. “Because you’re here?”

  “I had to leave your scooter at the scene. Eventually the police—maybe even the yakuza if they have the police on their payroll—will be able to trace the license plate back to you. They’ll come here. They’ll do to you what they’ve done to Bonnie.”

  “I didn’t do anything wrong, though.” She began to panic. “I let my friend borrow my scooter.”

  “I know you did nothing wrong. But you have to report your scooter stolen. And please promise me that you’ll go tomorrow to stay with your parents in Osaka—at least until this blows over.”

  “I cannot leave my work tomorrow. Sato-san needs me.”

  “Don’t worry about Sato-san. You are in danger. The yakuza can be here any minute. We must find a safe place and go there now.”

  “The only hotel nearby that would be private and not ask for ID would be a capsule hotel.”

  Cain shook his head. “No. I swore never to stay in one of those coffins again. There’s gotta be another option. This is Yokohama, for crying out loud.”

  “Well,” Umiko said, “there is one place.” She told him there was an apartment owned by Mr. Sato’s automotive company that was used to host visiting VIPs. It had been prepared for the marketing director from Germany, but he was not arriving until the following night.

  “Let’s go,” said Cain.

  Chapter 69

  The luxury cabin on board the expensive yacht swayed with the rhythmic waves of the ocean. In almost any other scenario, this would be a dream vacation—except this was no vacation. It was a nightmare, yet Bonnie was wide-awake. The pain was a constant reminder of that.

  The room was dark. She was nude, and her wrists throbbed with pain. The nylon rope that bound her was tight—too tight, but the yakuza guard knew she was a fighter. She had fought like a wild animal when they took her from her apartment. The chunk missing from his right ear served as a reminder of that.

  Dried blood circled her wrists from the raw motion of trying to free her hands from the rope that tied them to the headboard of the queen-size bed. She was able to lie down but found sleeping too uncomfortable in that position. Gravity pulled the blood from her hands and it stung like a thousand needles jabbing her skin.

  She peered through the small porthole. The waxing crescent moon provided a soft white glow over the ocean. That’s how she kept track of the three days she’d been in captivity. How many more nights will I be tied to this bed? she worried. She reasoned that it was better than the alternative: death.

  If only I can get Cain’s attention. I’ve done it before.

  She thought back to a childhood memory. She had lost the coin toss with her brothers, and it had fallen on her to check the catfish traps in the middle of the lake. As she maneuvered her father’s small boat close to the bobbing buoy, she saw her teenage brothers on the dock waving at her to come back to the shore.

  “Bonnie, it’s not worth it. Just come back,” Seth had yelled through cupped hands.

  She’d looked skyward at the ominous clouds above. “I’d be done already if I had some help, but I don’t need any help!” Hand over hand, she’d pulled the thick nylon rope to the trap until she felt its weight. It was heavy and caused the boat to tip as she hovered over the edge, pulling with all her might.

  A clap of thunder and a gust of wind caused Bonnie to lose her footing. She toppled headfirst into the lake, inhaling a mouthful of muddy water. Bonnie kicked her legs furiously while trying to surface, but the rope ensnared her right leg above the knee, anchoring her underwater with the hefty fish trap.

  She tried to untie the knot, but with every movement, it tightened more. She closed her stinging eyes.

  Hurry, Cain! I’m drowning! she’d messaged him telepathically.

  Bonnie’s lungs had burned as she fought with the knotted rope. She could see through the murky water that the trap was not full of fish but lodged between an old stump and a large rock on the bottom of the lake.

  Bonnie made one last effort to free herself, but it didn’t work. Panic set in and she believed she was about to drown. Suddenly, she sensed she was not alone. Cain was in the water. She felt his presence before she ever saw him. Her eyes opened to see her twin, calmly and carefully cutting the rope with his pocketknife. Cain grabbed Bonnie and pushed her up to the water’s surface.

  Bonnie gasped for air and coughed up dirty lake water.

  “Is she okay?” Seth yelled, swimming toward them.

  Cain was patting Bonnie’s back to help her regain her breath.

  “You got my message,” Bonnie said with relief.

  “Yes,” Cain replied.

  “I was hoping you would.”

  “I always do.” Cain winked at his twin.

  Bonnie smiled at that memory, and at the thought of how she and her brother were connected. She continued staring at the moon through the yacht’s porthole, directing all her energy and thoughts toward her twin. I’m on a yacht. I’m sure it’s in Tokyo Bay, near land. I can hear seagulls and the constant arrival and departure of airplanes.

  She heard muffled voices from the hall. The door opened, backlighting the silhouette of a large man in a suit. The bald man in the doorway was Japanese and had a tattoo that covered his neck and head. He was carrying what looked like a small medical bag as he walked toward the edge of her bed. He gawked at Bonnie as she lay helpless on the bed. She felt violated by the way he looked her up and down. Her bound wrists did not allow her to cover herself. She crossed her legs tightly and turned away from him.

  “You are very beautiful,” he said. “It is a pity you will not be with us much longer. I would have enjoyed myself with you.”

  Bonnie heard him reach into his bag. She could not look. She felt cold metal touch her neck at the top of her spine and continue slowly down her back, stopping briefly at the bottom of her tailbone before continuing around her buttocks toward the inside of her thighs. Angered and repulsed, she kicked wildly at him. He laughed maniacally and slapped her hard on her thigh. It blossomed bright red and she tried to stifle her cry of pain and humiliation. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. She turned to face her abuser and saw that he was holding a small pistol of some sort. It reminded her of something a television detective might carry around his ankle as a backup gun.

  “Go ahead and shoot me, you chickenshit!” she exclaimed. “I’d rather die than give you any pleasure, you sick pervert!”

  “Oh, I have no intention of shooting you, Bonnie. May I call you Bonnie?”

  She was disgusted by him and spat in his face.

  He was unfazed. “You are worth more to us alive than dead. Although from what I hear about our Saudi friends, you may wish that I had killed you.”

  Saudis? What is he talking about?

  As if reading her mind, he said, “Yes, the Saudis will pay top dollar for a yellow-haired girl. And I can see that you are naturally blonde.”

  Bonnie knew that her face showed her anguish.

  “They were very happy with Elena and the others. That is the beauty of the Japanese. We are very efficient, and because we are an island nation, we are experts at the sea trade. I’m sure they will be very pleased with you also.” He was searching for something in his bag as he spoke. “Your brother has become quite a nuisance.”

  Bonnie immediately felt grateful: that meant Cain was looking for her. Tears of joy streamed down her face.

  “First by saving Sato, and now by killing Hayabusa.”

  Hayabusa? Who the hell is that?

  As if reading her mind again, the man continued. “Your brother caused Hayabusa, the only grandson of Yamamoto, to lose face in front of many people at the Angel Cloud. And in his quest to find you, he threw Hayabusa out of a third-story window. He has angered many people who should not have been angered.”

  “My brother can be a real pain in the ass.” Bonnie smirked. “He’s going to cause a lot more problems until he finds me.”

>   “Yes, I believe you. He has proven to be quite the adversary, which is why we have chosen to expedite our shipment.”

  Bonnie gasped when she saw the man put his revolver into the medical bag and remove a large syringe. She thrashed wildly, and the bald man shouted for another guard to come into the room and hold her still. A guard rushed in, and a hand covered her mouth and nose, depriving her of air. She felt the sharp needle puncture her skin, and then the warm liquid flow through her veins. It gave her the strange sensation of being underwater. Her last thought before slipping into unconsciousness was, Hurry, Cain! I’m drowning!

  Chapter 70

  Cain lay awake, Umiko’s head resting on his chest. His body ached from the fight at the tattoo shop, and he was restless, worried about Bonnie. He carefully got up from the futon on the floor in the living room and walked toward the balcony. He quietly slid the door open and walked outside onto the balcony of the apartment.

  It was still dark outside, and a slight cool breeze blew from Tokyo Bay. Red and green navigation lights bobbed up and down from all the ships in the bay. The waxing crescent moon provided a beam of light over the water. Cain reached out to touch it. No matter how big the world was, the moon gave him a connection to Bonnie. He knew they were staring at it together.

  He continued staring at the moon until it disappeared with the sun rising over the horizon. He grabbed the birdcage and unhooked its door. The powerful flapping of wings as the falcon took flight woke Umiko. She joined Cain outside and put her arm around him.

  I’m gonna free Bonnie like I freed that bird, he promised himself as the falcon soared into the distance.

  Umiko kissed Cain’s neck. “Did you get any sleep?”

  He shook his head no.

  “Would you like for me to make you some tea?” she asked. “They have my favorite inside: TWG.”

  “Yes, please,” he replied. “If we had more time, I would have enjoyed making beignets for you.”

  “Next time,” she said.

  “I promise.” He smiled.

  They walked inside and Cain flipped on the television while Umiko prepared vanilla bourbon tea in the small kitchen.

  “Enough already,” Umiko said in frustration. “The Japanese media is obsessed with this emissions story. Sato-san is not going to resign. He uses his position for good. Every year he donates so much of his personal money toward orphanages. It is uncommon for a Japanese CEO to be so generous and donate so much of his money to help orphaned children.”

  “Sato-san might not be investing in a greener environment,” Cain said, “but at least he’s doing his part to invest in the future, I guess.”

  Umiko caught Cain’s sarcasm. “Be nice. Sato-san has given you and me good jobs. Work is hard to find in Japan. There are more people than jobs.” She returned to watching the television. “They’re saying that the JR line is delayed. Someone committed suicide by jumping in front of the train.”

  “That’s terrible,” Cain said.

  “Unfortunately, it happens often. It’s most likely a man who has lost his job. The JR train company will now bill his family ten million yen.”

  Cain did the conversion in his head. “Isn’t that almost one hundred thousand US dollars?”

  “Something like that—maybe a little less. They call it ‘obstruction of business.’”

  The newscast switched to an interview, and Cain felt rage build up inside him as he saw who it was with.

  “That son of a bitch!”

  Umiko was startled. “You know this man?”

  “He’s a Stars and Stripes reporter I met last night. What’s he saying?”

  She listened intently and translated as quickly as she could. “He speaks really great Japanese,” she commented. “He’s saying that the yakuza have kidnapped an American woman, and her family is now demanding her return. The tattoo shop behind him was the scene of a violent killing last night of a prominent yakuza member. This place is believed to be a money laundering front for the yakuza, and many American sailors use it to get their tattoos. The Seventh Fleet commander is now issuing a ban for all American military personnel. Tattoo shops in Japan are now off-limits.”

  Cain’s eyes were glued to the screen. The video transitioned to another scene: a dozen members of Tokyo’s crime scene unit were huddled around the orange Skyline that Cain had abandoned. They were dusting for fingerprints and putting hair samples into plastic evidence bags.

  “That’s it!” Cain shouted. “I’ve gotta dig this weasel out of his hole before he puts Bonnie in a six-foot-deep one, and me in jail!” He then turned to Umiko and took her hand. “Go to Osaka now. Promise me you’ll stay with your parents.”

  “I will,” she replied.

  She handed him a bento box. “I took this from the fridge for you. It’ll give you strength. It’s got rice, meat, and vegetables—and no eel.” She smiled.

  He laid his hands softly on her cheeks. Umiko stood on her toes to meet him for a kiss. He held the kiss for a second longer.

  As they left the apartment and went their separate ways, Cain looked at the gold band on his ring finger. It had been there since the day he’d promised Claire “I do.” Now he removed the ring and placed it in his pocket. Claire, there’s nobody who can ever replace you. But I’ve found somebody who makes me feel loved again. Someone I get the feeling that you would approve of also.

  Chapter 71

  Cain hopped onto the train headed to Yokosuka. It was packed with commuters, so he leaned against one of the poles to steady himself during the one-hour ride. He found himself feeling more anxious with each passing moment, thinking of how Champ was potentially endangering Bonnie to promote his career. Cain instinctively clenched his fists. I’m gonna punch the daylights out of Cat when I see him. If he gets Bonnie killed…I can’t think like that. He pushed those thoughts away and refocused on finding his twin sister.

  He habitually reached for his ring finger to fidget with his wedding band but it was no longer there. It felt strange. The only other time he had removed the ring was when he was at the Secret Service academy and had to remove all jewelry before they practiced their defensive tactics training.

  Chief Alvarez, as promised, was waiting outside the military’s perimeter fence, near the entrance to the Enlisted Alliance Club. The bottom of his blue camouflage uniform was tucked into his spit-shined black boots. He greeted Cain with a bear hug.

  “Hurricane, you look like shit!”

  “I’ve been hearing that a lot lately,” Cain said. “For a sailor trying to scam the navy out of an extra 5 percent disability for navy-induced sleep apnea, you look more rested than me,” Cain teased his friend.

  “Hey, it’s a real thing,” Alvarez replied defensively. “You see how wired I am? Imagine how calm I’d be if I slept well.”

  “You’re wired because you keep drinking those energy drinks.” Cain pointed to the sixteen-ounce aluminum can in Chief Alvarez’s hand. “Those things will kill you.”

  “So will flying P-3s, but that never seemed to bother you.” The chief looked at Cain with concern. “Seriously, when was the last time you slept?”

  “Don’t worry about that. Just take me to Sherlock Holmes. I’m getting angrier by the second thinking about him.”

  “Aye, aye.” Chief Alvarez saluted.

  The Stars and Stripes office was a single ten-by-ten-foot room next to the military’s vehicle licensing office. Cain and the chief had to walk through an industrial hallway full of newly arrived military members who were trying to take their driving tests, register their cars, and purchase Japanese insurance.

  Champ’s office door had a small nameplate above an after-hours letter drop. Cain turned the knob and opened the door to a space with nondescript furnishings. He saw Champ sitting at his desk in the corner, blabbing on the telephone. A look of fear came over him when he saw Cain.

  “Um, something’s come up rather unexpectedly. I’ll call you later.” He dropped the phone’s receiver on its cradle and
stood.

  Cain advanced toward the reporter and grabbed him by the collar. Cain slammed him against the wall, which was full of tacked newspaper articles with Champ’s byline. When the back of his head hit the wall, something fell out of Champ’s mouth.

  “What was that?” Chief Alvarez asked, looking at the carpet by the reporter’s feet. “You lose a tooth?”

  Champ coughed for air. “It was my throat lozenge.”

  Cain turned to Chief Alvarez, who locked the door and guarded it with his back so nobody could enter.

  “He’s all yours,” the chief said. “Show ’em why you were called Hurricane in the world’s finest navy.”

  “Wh—wh—what do you mean by that?” Champ nervously stammered. “You can’t treat me like this.” His face was turning red from fear and embarrassment. “It’s an assault on a member of the press.”

  “I saw you on television today—dramatizing the situation to get your ugly mug all over the news. You’re not going to get your Pulitzer on my case!” Cain shouted. “Bonnie’s not your pawn!”

  “It’s not what it appears.” Champ’s voice cracked. “I was helping you. I swear to God.”

  Cain loosened his grip slightly. “How in the hell is your reporting this all over the news helping me? I saw you taking pictures of me last night. What were you going to do? Sell them to the Japan Times?”

  “Well, yes. But—”

  Cain retightened his grip on Champ’s collar.

  “But only after you find Bonnie. I swear. I can prove it to you. Let go and I’ll show you.”

  Cain let go, and Champ took a deep breath. He stepped toward his desk and opened one of the drawers. He pulled out a license plate. “You see? I was protecting you. This is the plate off your scooter. I took it before the police could trace it back to you.”