Bobu settles a cold, lifeless gaze on Isato, then shoves Rioko out of the way. He is holding a gun.
As Caine struggles to his feet, his reflexes dulled by alcohol and a lack of sleep, Kenji runs to his father. Isato stands and opens his arms wide, oblivious to the danger. Bobu aims the gun, and Caine runs to intercept Kenji, pushing hapless bystanders out of his way.
Isato looks up and locks eyes with Bobu. Their faces freeze in snarls of mutual hatred. Bobu’s thick finger tightens on the trigger. Kenji runs into the line of fire. The boy skids to a stop, frightened by the angry look on his father’s face.
Caine slams into Kenji. He grabs the boy and pivots around, putting himself between the boy and Bobu.
Bobu fires. The gunshot reverberates like an explosion in the small bar.
Caine gasps as the bullet tears into him. He falls to the ground, clutching Kenji in his arms. The terrified child kicks and screams, trying to get away. Caine holds on, despite the bullet wound in his shoulder. He winces in pain, but he does not let go.
Koichi and his men rush back in. The bar patrons scream and scatter for cover as Koichi draws a gun of his own, aiming it at Bobu. Isato rushes over and pushes Koichi’s gun hand up towards the ceiling.
“No, you idiot! No more shooting! Get Kenji out of here!”
Koichi grabs Kenji from Caine’s arms. Caine’s field of vision narrows. A black haze closes in from all sides.
The last thing he remembers is Bobu glaring at him in a cold rage. His tiger tattoo seems to roar with deadly fury. The combination of the man’s ferocious face and grim stare is horrifying. He reminds Caine of an Oni, the red-skinned demons that deceive and devour humans.
As Bobu turns and flees the bar, Caine falls into the sweet embrace of unconsciousness.
Caine woke from the dream slowly, tentatively. He willed himself to consciousness. The darkness lifted, replaced by a dim light creeping between the curtains of his hotel room. He felt like a man pulling himself out of quicksand. One step at a time.
He sighed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. All the nightmares of his past seemed to be returning one by one. Their dark touch lingered on his mind.
Caine forced himself out of bed. After a brutal workout in the hotel gym, followed by breakfast and a scalding hot shower, he felt like he had finally escaped the lingering unease left behind by his dream. Not a dream, he thought. Memories. He rubbed the small white scar on his shoulder. The past had left its mark on him. It would not let him forget.
With nothing else to occupy his time, he flipped on the TV and watched the news. All the stations were reporting the same story. The prime minster of Japan had given a speech criticizing China for military escalations surrounding the Senkaku Islands. The speech was in Japanese, but a flat, monotone English translation chased his words.
“Both sides recognize that they have different views regarding the tense situations arising in recent years in the waters of the East China Sea, including those around the Senkaku Islands. But we do not consider this a territorial dispute. There can be no dispute over facts, and it has been acknowledged again and again that these islands are the sovereign territory of Japan. Rather, we believe there is a dispute over the causes behind the recent growth in tensions around these islands. And for this, we feel it is clear that provocative activities by China are to blame.”
According to the newscaster’s recap, the US Secretary of State was flying in to mediate a sit-down between officials of Japan and the People’s Republic of China. Caine shook his head and turned off the TV. Unbelievable. All this over a bunch of uninhabited rocks in the middle of the ocean.
A buzzing sounded from the nightstand next to his bed. There was a text message on the phone from Koichi: “We have information for you. I will pick you up at 8:00 pm.”
He erased the text.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The tiny internet cafe by the beach was simple, clean, and fairly busy. A few local teenagers, a vacationing businessman or two … the clientele was typical for a spot like this.
Rebecca scanned the crowd one more time. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, so she reached into her woven beach bag and removed a black USB dongle. Turning back to the computer in front of her, she inserted the device into a port on the machine. An icon popped up on the screen, and she double-clicked it.
The tiny USB device instantly created a secure link to the network she used to reach Ethan. For the third time that day, she opened the black window and tried to initiate a chat.
SECURE CONNECTION REQUEST. RF-07716. STATUS: ARCHIPELAGO
She took a sip of her Singha, pretending to be just another well-to-do professional on holiday. The cursor blinked silently on her screen.
There was no response.
Shit.
She glanced around the cafe one more time. Certain no one was observing her, she yanked the dongle from the computer and the chat window blinked out of existence. Rebecca deleted her history on the machine, then got up to leave.
Outside, bikini-clad girls ambled down Soi 5, heading for the beach. Neon green and yellow motor scooters buzzed along the road, gleaming in the overhead sun like shiny beetles humming through the air. In her tank top, shorts, and oversized tortoiseshell sunglasses, Rebecca blended into the throng of beachgoers. The gold bangles and woven bracelets adorning her arms jingled as she walked.
After the air-conditioned chill of the cafe, the sudden blast of afternoon humidity felt good on Rebecca’s skin, but her face was still contorted in a troubled scowl. Ethan could be flaky, but it wasn’t like him to just disappear like this. Hell, she thought, the guy practically lives in front of a computer.
She was just about to try calling him again when the phone rang inside her bag. She picked it up, expecting to see a message from Ethan. Instead, it was an unfamiliar international number. Japan. Caine.
“Hello?”
“It’s me,” said Caine. Rebecca was annoyed to find herself comforted by the sound of his voice.
“I figured. Still reading that Basho?”
“No, I finished that one. Figured I’d try the Murakami book you recommended.”
“Can’t promise you’ll like it,” she answered. “New number. You must be going through a ton of burner phones.”
“Yeah, well, privacy has its price. And it may be cheaper than the alternative.”
She nodded in silent agreement. “Any luck with the girl?”
“I have a lead. I’ll let you know if it pans out.”
“Good. The clock is ticking. Did you get the info I forwarded you?”
“Yes. Tokyo Black. Your report jives with my intel here.”
“How are they involved?”
“I’m not sure they are yet, but our paths have crossed.” Caine paused. “You sound stressed. Everything okay?”
“I’m fine,” she sighed. “It’s probably nothing, but….”
She trailed off, unsure what exactly to say. Caine’s voice cut in, sharp as a knife. “But what? What’s wrong?”
“My information specialist. Ethan Maslin. He’s a hacker the FBI busted a couple years ago. He cut a deal to work for the CIA.”
“What about him?”
“Well, he sent me the info on Tokyo Black yesterday. The files I forwarded you.” She paused, listening, but there was only silence and static on the other end of the phone. “And I haven’t been able to reach him since then. I’m sure it’s nothing, but—”
“It’s not nothing,” Caine cut her off. “These hacker guys love to brag. Did he tell anyone about this operation? Did he tell Bernatto that I was your asset?”
“No, of course not. I had him delete all the records. And I’m telling you, Bernatto doesn’t want to know.”
“Don’t be so sure. Is that everything?”
“Yes. Well, maybe. I don’t know. Yesterday I saw this guy at my hotel. Something about him felt off. I don’t know why, but he felt military to me.”
“Rebecca, this Maslin guy … what else did he d
ig into besides Tokyo Black?”
Rebecca looked down Soi 5. She saw a group of three men moving towards her. They looked to be a mix of ethnicities, probably Thai and Indonesian. They were wearing khaki pants and cheap t-shirts. One of them had a limp, and another had a colorful tattoo on his arm. The tattooed man stared at her as they came closer. The street behind them simmered with rippling waves of heat.
Rebecca turned to her right and headed down the beach road, away from the cafe.
“What do you think, Tom? I had him look into Operation Big Blind. That report is bullshit, and we both know it.”
“Dammit, I told you—”
“You told me a lot of things, Tom. Maybe if you would just tell me the truth, I wouldn’t need to go looking for it myself.”
“Rebecca, I didn’t tell you because you were better off not knowing,” he snapped. “Why the hell do you think I stayed away in the first place?”
“It’s a lie, isn’t it? You didn’t kill Tyler. You didn’t take the drugs and the guns. Bernatto did and set you up to take the fall.”
Caine sighed. “We can talk about it later. Right now, you have to get out of Thailand. Get your ass in a cab and go straight to the airport. Leave your things, just go.”
Rebecca looked behind her. The three men continued down Soi 5, past the beach road, laughing and catcalling at pretty girls as they went by. They didn’t even look in her direction. She took a deep breath, and realized her heart had been racing.
“Tom, we’re on mission. Bernatto may be dirty, but this intel is real. We can’t just—”
“I’ll handle it. Just get the hell out of Thailand. If Bernatto knows you’re there, it’s not safe. Promise me.”
“Maybe you’re right. I’ll go. But keep me informed.”
“I will, I promise. Contact me when you’re somewhere safe.”
He hung up.
Rebecca stepped out into the street to hail a cab. A few seconds later, a small blue taxi weaved its way through the beach traffic and pulled up to the curb. As she got in, she debated if she should go back to the hotel to get her things. Then she remembered the sharp edge to Caine’s voice. It was fear. He was afraid for her.
“Airport, please.”
The driver smiled. He was missing a tooth. “U-Tapao airport? Take about forty minutes in this traffic. Fifteen-hundred baht, okay?”
“That’s fine.”
She cracked her window, letting the warm breeze wash over her as they pulled away from the corner. She felt her heartbeat slow down. It was the fear in Caine’s voice that had triggered her rush of adrenalin.
Was it possible? Was Bernatto a traitor?
There is another possibility…. Maybe I’m only seeing what I want to see. Maybe Caine was guilty. Maybe he was playing her; maybe he had been all along.
She knew that, in her profession, the truth was a luxury. Exotic, hard to obtain, and not without expense. But she was determined to seek it out, no matter what it cost.
The taxicab sputtered to a stop at a four-way intersection. The road ahead was blocked by a mass of traffic. Idling engines and honking horns replaced the gentle sound of waves crashing on the beach. Rebecca craned her neck out the window but couldn’t see past the blockade of cars.
“What’s wrong? Why are we stopping?”
The driver shook his head. “Look like accident. I bet you it’s another tour bus. They crash all the time. Roads very bad here, Miss. Eighty people die here every day in traffic accidents!”
“Is there another route we can take?”
The driver tapped some buttons on the smart phone suction-cupped to the windshield. “Let’s see how bad it is…. Maybe we take side street and loop around.”
Rebecca watched as the driver called up an alternate route. The car shuddered as he put it back into gear. “Okay, bingo! Hang on; we need to turn around.” He looked over his shoulder, and the car whined as he backed up.
Rebecca saw his eyes go wide and his jaw drop before she heard the brakes screeching. She had just enough time to turn before the hood of a huge black SUV filled the rear windshield.
The impact crumpled the rear of the taxi and launched her forward into the air. For a fraction of a second, she felt weightless, as if she were hovering above the rear seat of the taxi. She heard the sound of shattering glass and squealing metal. Then her head struck the back of the driver’s seat. The impact snapped her back, and she collapsed on the rear floor of the vehicle. Shards of glass rained down on top of her.
Blood streamed from a gash on her face. She tried to move her head, but the muscles in her neck screamed in pain. She called out to the driver.
“Are you okay?” Her voice was a hoarse croak.
There was no response.
She heard sirens in the distance. They grew closer. Within a few minutes, flashing lights reflected across the shattered windows of the vehicle. She heard voices, footsteps. Grinding metal.
How did they get here so quickly?
The crumpled door to her left ripped open. She felt strong, firm hands grasping her, pulling her from the wreckage. The hands lifted her onto a stretcher. The sun beamed down overhead, an uncaring orb of fire, bleaching the scene of the accident in a curtain of white light. She squinted, unable to look at it.
“I’m okay,” she mumbled. “I’m fine. I have to go.”
A man in a paramedic uniform leaned over her. He lifted her eyelids open and shined a small flashlight into her pupils, first left, then right. He nodded, then buckled a nylon strap tight across her abdomen.
She tried to resist as he buckled similar straps around each wrist, but she knew her efforts were pathetic. She felt a needle slide into her arm. “Wait…,” she said, her voice faint and weak.
The paramedic looked down at her. The sun cast a halo of fire behind his head, reflecting on his blond hair. She had seen him before.
It was the man she had spotted at the hotel.
He spoke into a small microphone at his throat. “Package is secure. Condition stable but injured.”
As her vision faded to black, she realized two things. She had finally discovered the truth: Bernatto was obviously dirty; Caine had been right.
And he had been right about something else as well.
She was in terrible danger.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Caine stood outside the Shinjuku Prince Hotel. The night air was crisp, and he zipped his leather jacket a bit higher. Around him, an anonymous crowd of businessmen, families, and tourists came and went. The lights of Tokyo glittered against the night sky.
He tried to keep his mind off Rebecca. He should have known she would investigate his old file. He chided himself for revealing as much as he had. If Bernatto knew he was alive, knew that he had spoken to her….
He stopped that train of thought before it could consume him. Right now, he had a job to do. Rebecca was leaving Thailand. With any luck, by the time she got to safety, this would all be over. And if Bernatto did suspect her, then Caine’s best course of action was to get his hands on something Bernatto wanted. And right now, for reasons unknown, that was Hitomi.
He checked the watch on his wrist. It was 8:15 pm. He remembered Koichi being more punctual.
A guttural roar emanated from the street below, so loud it drowned out the taxicabs and limousines idling by the hotel entrance. Tires squealed around the corner, and a black sports car streaked towards him. Caine took a step back as the vehicle zoomed up to him and screeched to a halt.
The driver’s door of the black GTR swung open, and Kenji stepped out, smiling. “Hey, man. Heard you liked the car….”
“She’s a beast all right. What happened to Koichi?”
Kenji grinned like a Cheshire cat. “He’ll meet up with us later. Here….” Kenji tossed him the car keys. “Why don’t you drive? See what she can do.”
Caine looked at the keys, then back at Kenji. “Your dad know you’re here?”
Kenji walked around to the passenger door. “Anyone eve
r tell you ask too many questions?”
Caine smiled and slid into the driver seat. “Occupational hazard.”
He pushed the ignition button on the dash, and the engine roared to life like a snarling tiger.
Kenji looked over at him. “Yeah? What occupation is that?”
“Now look who’s asking questions.”
Caine depressed the brake and moved the shift lever into position. Stepping on the gas, he revved the engine to 4000 rpm. Kenji smiled with approval. “Looks like you know what you’re doing.”
“Sometimes, kid. Sometimes.”
Caine released the brake. Six-hundred horsepower shot through the car’s transmission in the blink of an eye. The GTR launched forward, tearing out of the hotel driveway.
“Head north,” Kenji said. “Follow the Chuo main line.”
Caine downshifted and sped past a local tofu delivery truck. “You want to tell me where we’re going?”
“Ikebukuro. We got word your girl went to see a yonigeya there.”
“A what?”
“A yonigeya. It means ‘fly by night arranger’. They help people in trouble disappear.”
Caine kept his eyes on the road. “What kind of trouble?”
Kenji fished a toothpick out of his pocket and wedged it in his teeth. He rolled it around absent-mindedly as he looked out the window at the passing lights. “Oh, you know. Loan sharks. Gangsters. People like that.”
Caine was silent.
“Anyway,” Kenji continued, “when they get in too deep, a yonigeya can help them smooth things over. In extreme cases, they pose as window washers or lawn workers. They enter a house and smuggle their clients out of town. Set them up with new lives. Obviously the yakuza keeps close tabs on such people.” Kenji pointed to a traffic sign as the GTR streaked past it. “Take the next exit.”
Caine drifted right and sped up a ramp onto a winding freeway. The glowing lights flicked by faster and faster as the car got up to speed.
“Kind of like a private witness protection.”
Kenji nodded. He looked at over at Caine. “You know, I have to say, I never thought I would see you again. I wasn’t that young, but I barely remember that night.”
[Thomas Caine #1] Tokyo Black Page 10
