Cajun Justice

by James Patterson

  Cain went to the phone booth and lifted the handset, dropped in a few coins, and dialed Umiko’s number from memory.

  The phone rang a few times before her voicemail answered.

  “Umi, this is Cain. I was hoping to talk to you one last time before I left. I’m not even really sure what to say, though.” He paused for a moment. “I just wish things could have turned out differently for us.”

  Chief Alvarez and Bonnie were tying El Viento to the dock when three Japanese police cars lined up at the nearby gate. Their signature red emergency lights were on and rotating as the police officers talked to the military guards about gaining access.

  Cain knew that he and Bonnie had to get on the USS Washington quickly. Even though this was an American base, the Japanese had concurrent jurisdiction. They’d be allowed on the base to look for him and arrest him. Besides the embassy, the ship was the only true American sovereignty in Japan.

  Cain saw one of the police cars rolling through the gate. He made eye contact with Alvarez and nodded to his friend, acknowledging the urgency. He turned back to the phone and lowered his voice as he spoke into the handset.

  “I’ve gotta run, Umi. Thank you for everything. I’m sorry it ended like this, but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to come back to Japan.” Before he hung up, he said one last thing to her. It was what she had told him at their Zen retreat. “Au wa wakare no hajimari. I guess all good things come to an end, and you are a good thing, Umi.”

  Chapter 82

  The military police officer standing watch on the deck next to a wooden podium looked intimidating. The athletically built policeman had a Beretta 9mm handgun strapped to his hip and an M4 assault rifle slung across the body armor that hugged his torso. He inspected every sailor who requested to come aboard the USS George Washington.

  “That military cop looks really serious,” Bonnie said nervously. “We’re going to get caught and arrested!”

  “Relax, Lieutenant,” Chief Alvarez said, trying to calm her. “You’ve already come this far. Plus, that watch stander is looking for terrorists, not two Cajuns in flight suits.”

  Cain and Bonnie headed to the gangway.

  “Jesus, this boat is way bigger than I would have ever imagined,” Bonnie said.

  Alvarez put his arm around Bonnie. “This is not a boat. It’s a ship, and not just any ship. It’s a nuclear-powered super aircraft carrier. It’s the might of the American military and what keeps us free.”

  Cain smiled with pride. He felt as though he was reliving his navy days. He and Bonnie were just two military pilots out of hundreds of aviators on board. And as pilots, they were commissioned officers, with a set of parallel silver bars displayed on each shoulder of their flight suits. The chief really delivered. Bravo, Zulu, Cain thought as they approached the gruff military police officer.

  “Permission to come aboard,” Chief Alvarez asked while simultaneously saluting.

  The military policeman returned the salute. “Welcome aboard, Chief.”

  “Permission to come aboard,” Bonnie requested.

  The guard saluted Bonnie. “Welcome aboard, Lieutenant.”

  Cain stepped onto the deck of the USS George Washington and was overcome with emotion. The ship’s motto was engraved on a large wooden plaque attached to the wall. “The Spirit of Freedom,” he said aloud, feeling euphoric as goose bumps formed on his forearms. In the corner, near the wooden podium, was the bust of President George Washington—America’s first president. Behind the bust was the American flag with a gold-plated eagle on top. Despite all our flaws, we’re still the greatest country in the world, Cain thought.

  Tears formed in his eyes as he requested “permission to come aboard.”

  The guard snapped a crisp salute. “Permission granted. Welcome aboard, sir!”

  Cain returned the salute with the same vigor and precision. He turned toward Alvarez, who noticed that Cain’s eyes had welled up with tears.

  “Are you okay?” Chief Alvarez asked.

  “Never better,” Cain replied.

  They ducked their heads and entered the ship’s hatch. The chief escorted them through the large hangar bay, which was crowded with various F-18 fighter jets and H-60 Seahawk helicopters.

  “Where’s the plane y’all used to fly?” Bonnie asked.

  “The Mighty War Pig wouldn’t be on this ship,” Cain said. “It was a land-based submarine hunter.”

  “How many missions you figure we flew together?” Chief Alvarez asked, obviously feeling nostalgic. “At least the ones we can talk about.”

  “Counting tonight?” Cain smiled wearily.

  Chief Alvarez returned the smile. “I reckon tonight’s mission will stay top secret, unless that Champ Albright has anything to do with it.”

  “Champ Albright?” Bonnie joined their conversation. “The reporter I meant to introduce you to?”

  “One and the same,” Cain said. “He actually helped me find you. I’ll tell you about it on our way to Guam.”

  “This ought to be good. I can’t wait to hear all about it,” she said.

  Cain and Alvarez laughed as the chief continued escorting them through the ship to their sleeping berth. Even though it was technically a VIP room, it was still on board a military ship designed for combat. The USS George Washington’s mattresses were prison-thin, the pillows hard as rocks, and the wool blankets scratchy as sandpaper. Cain didn’t care, though. As far as he was concerned, the mighty ship was the Ritz-Carlton.

  “How did you score this room?” he asked Alvarez.

  “It may seem like a new navy with the new generation joining nowadays, but chiefs still take care of each other. Let’s just say I owe the supply officer a drink when we reach Guam.”

  “A room like this, I’m sure it’s a lot of drinks,” Cain replied.

  “You guys are worth it.”

  Cain felt an enormous sense of gratitude. He wrapped one arm around Alvarez and the other around Bonnie and pulled them close.

  “I’m just glad I could help you out in your time of need,” the chief said. “Nobody is assigned this room until we pick up an admiral in Guam. So you and Bonnie can rest easy. You’re safe now. When you wake up tomorrow, we’ll be preparing to get under way.”

  Cain was used to pushing his body to its limits, but this had been different. He had gone days without rest or peace of mind, having been fueled by sheer determination to rescue Bonnie. As soon as Chief Alvarez shut the door on his way out, Cain lay in the bottom bunk, staring at the bunk above him. His mind drifted toward wonderful thoughts of Umiko. He thought of how special she was. How she’d gently cared for him, and of their life-changing kendo trip to the base of Mount Fuji. He would never forget that trip: the retreat had helped him overcome his feelings of guilt. Feeling a sense of newfound peace, he crashed into a dreamless sleep.

  Hours later, what seemed like chaotic activity woke him. Hatches were opening and slamming shut. Senior enlisted sailors were shouting instructions and junior sailors were replying with the same level of intensity. The intercom bellowed commands from various military officers, but it was the command from the boatswain’s mate that caught Cain’s attention.

  “Prepare to shift colors.”

  That was the command for sailors to stand at attention on the side of the ship in their dress white uniforms.

  Cain and Bonnie stayed put in their room, competing for a view from the porthole. The pier was full of hundreds of family members waving good-bye to their military spouses and parents. It felt as if they were waving good-bye to Cain and Bonnie.

  The sun was peeking over the mountain, slowly rising with each minute. The island nation was getting smaller as the massive aircraft carrier cut through the water and sailed on its own power.

  “Take one last look, sis. The land of the rising sun.”

  “Sayonara,” she whispered, peering through the small porthole.

  “Soon we’ll be in Guam, and then back on the bayou.”

  “Home
sweet home,” she said.

  Epilogue

  Ten months later

  New Orleans was celebrating Mardi Gras, and the French Quarter was bursting at the seams with excitement. More than a million visitors had gathered near Café du Monde, Cain’s favorite place to relax and enjoy coffee and beignets. The rowdy tourists lined Decatur Street, hooting and hollering as masked kings and queens threw beads and doubloons from atop ornate purple, green, and yellow floats.

  Cain sat under one of the café’s rotating wooden ceiling fans, sipping his chicory coffee from a white mug and wiping the beignets’ powdered sugar off his lips. He loved the Big Easy’s energy during this special time of year. He double-checked the time. I have time for another round of coffee, he told himself. He pulled out his copy of the Times-Picayune newspaper. The news was predominantly about sports, Louisiana politics, and Mardi Gras, but a headline caught his attention: a story reprinted from USA Today by none other than Champ Albright the Third.

  Cain was snickering as he read Champ’s story but was interrupted by the buzzing cell phone in his shirt pocket.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, twin brother.”

  “You gotta talk much louder,” Cain shouted into his phone. “It’s a wonderful madhouse down here. I wish you could have joined me.”

  “Me, too! Are you at Café du Monde?”

  “You know it, sis.”

  “I don’t know anyone who loves that chicory coffee as much as you and Pops,” Bonnie said. “By the way, have you checked out today’s paper? Our old friend Cat has a big story. Looks like Japanese prosecutors have indicted seven senior-level yakuza members and seized over ten of their businesses—including the Angel Cloud and Hakugei.”

  “Hooyah!” Cain said. “That is how you take down an enterprise. You gotta hit ’em where it hurts: in their pocketbook. We can thank LeRoy for sending that information that helped track their assets.”

  “No, we can thank you. None of this would have ever happened if you were not in the equation.”

  “You’re just biased, sis.”

  “Maybe. You are my favorite twin. That’s why I did something special for you.”

  “Oh, no.” Cain feigned worry. “I’m afraid to ask. What did you do this time?”

  “Relax,” Bonnie said. “You’ll like this one. It should be arriving any minute now.”

  “Thank you, sis. I’ll call as soon as I get it.” He placed his phone back in his pocket and took a few more swigs of his coffee. To his left, the Mardi Gras parade was crawling through the French Quarter. He took a break from the spectacle and turned to the right. He looked at the boats cruising the Mississippi River. It was a sight that always calmed him and connected him to his South Louisiana roots.

  “Is this seat taken?”

  Her voice was faint, but he would have recognized it anywhere in the world. He turned to face her. It was Umiko.

  Cain was shocked but stood and embraced her. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’ve always wanted to see Mardi Gras,” she said with that disarming smile. “Plus, you promised me beignets.”

  “That I did, Umi.” Cain smiled wide. “That I did.”

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  James Patterson is the world’s bestselling author and most trusted storyteller. He has created many enduring fictional characters and series, including Alex Cross, the Women’s Murder Club, Michael Bennett, Maximum Ride, Middle School, and I Funny. Among his notable literary collaborations are The President Is Missing, with President Bill Clinton, and the Max Einstein series, produced in partnership with the Albert Einstein Estate. Patterson’s writing career is characterized by a single mission: to prove that there is no such thing as a person who “doesn’t like to read,” only people who haven’t found the right book. He’s given over three million books to schoolkids and the military, donated more than seventy million dollars to support education, and endowed over five thousand college scholarships for teachers. For his prodigious imagination and championship of literacy in America, Patterson was awarded the 2019 National Humanities Medal. The National Book Foundation recently presented him with the Literarian Award for Outstanding Service to the American Literary Community, and he is also the recipient of an Edgar Award and nine Emmy Awards. He lives in Florida with his family.

  Tucker Axum III is a career law enforcement professional who has served as a special agent in the United States, Europe, Africa, Asia, and Australia. His first novel, The Reawakening of Mage Axum, was inspired by the mysterious disappearance of his uncle in Germany during World War II.

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