Mariko stepped on the gas and the grey sedan leapt forward. She wove in and out of the stop-and-go traffic, ignoring the angry beeps and shaking fists as she disrupted Tokyo’s morning commute.
Up ahead, she saw the twin black SUVs. They were stopped in a line of cars waiting to turn onto the Shuto Expressway. Based on their route, she guessed they were traveling to Haneda airport. A private aircraft would no doubt be waiting there, ready to whisk them out of the country.
She jogged her steering wheel left. The sedan’s underbody screeched as it jumped the curb. She flew past the stopped cars, made it through the light, and darted into traffic just behind the rear SUV.
She knew the move would draw their attention, but she no longer cared. She had to stop them before they made it to the airport. The longer they spent on the expressway, the more dangerous the chase would get.
The SUVs sped up once they reached the clearer lanes of the expressway. Then the rear vehicle begin to swerve back and forth. The swaying vehicle clipped the rear end of a delivery van as it chugged past them.
The SUV’s rear windows were tinted dark black, and Mariko could not see inside. But she knew what had to be causing the erratic motion: Caine was fighting to escape.
Her sedan surged forward and pulled up to the passenger side of the rear SUV. She saw the front passenger pointing a gun towards the rear seat. She could not see Caine in the back, but another passenger was struggling. She saw his back pressed against the rear side window.
Mariko slammed her car into the side of the SUV. Metal screeched against metal at seventy miles per hour. The larger vehicle drifted to the left.
She could hear the crack of a gunshot over the deafening collision. She hoped the impact of her ram had thrown off the gunman’s aim.
The front passenger leaned out his window and took aim at Mariko. She jerked her wheel to the left again. He had time to squeeze off only two shots before the cars collided.
Mariko kept up the pressure, pushing against the SUV. The screeching metal of the locked vehicles sounded like the frenzied shriek of a rabid animal. She knew that, as soon as she let up, the man with the pistol would be gunning for her again.
Up ahead, the lead SUV slid out of position and moved in front of her. Men with automatic rifles leaned out the rear windows. The explosive blast of automatic weapon fire filled the air.
She ducked as the windshield exploded. Tiny fragments of safety glass caught in her hair. Bullets whined and screeched as they tore into the metal frame of the car.
She slammed on the brakes and dropped back behind the rear SUV. The big black vehicle was still weaving across the road, but at least it provided some cover from the riflemen. Then, a few second later, the vehicle straightened out and stopped swerving. It fell back in line with the lead SUV.
Now what? she thought. She knew she had to keep them off balance, keep them reacting. Otherwise, it was only a matter of time before they killed both her and Caine.
She stepped on the accelerator and braced herself. Her sedan slammed into the vehicle’s rear bumper. The SUV lurched forward and struck the vehicle in front.
The impact threw the riflemen off balance. The armed men were unable to recover as the vehicle exploded forward.
“Yatta!” she exclaimed. She had made an opening.
She charged forward past the rear SUV. As the forward vehicle straightened out, the gunman on her side raised his rifle. But before he could fire, her rear windshield collapsed into a sparking curtain of broken glass. The driver of the SUV behind her was shooting at her as well!
She ducked just as the lead gunman opened fire. More bullets tore through the car. It was only a matter of time before one of them found its target. Keeping her head low, she spun the steering wheel and hit the gas.
The front corner of her sedan slammed into the rear wheel of the SUV. The driver slammed on the brakes, but she forced her foot down even harder on the shaking accelerator pedal. The gunfire stopped, and she popped back up in her seat.
The SUV fishtailed in front of her and skidded sideways. The driver was frantically spinning the wheel, trying to regain control. But the corner of her sedan was still pushing the rear of the SUV forward, forcing it into the skid.
To her left, Mariko saw they were entering a cloverleaf exchange, a wide, sloping traffic circle that would carry them up and over the lower expressway. She pulled her pistol from her leather jacket and took aim at the driver’s front wheel.
She fired. The tire exploded in a cloud of smoke and shredded rubber.
The SUV continued to skid straight forward, moving against the curve of the road. Mariko revved the accelerator again, pushing the vehicle forward even faster. Then she jerked the wheel to her right and darted away.
There was a split-second of silence as the lead SUV tipped and flew into the air. Then gravity took over, and the huge metal body crashed back down onto the pavement. The frame twisted into a lump of crumpled metal as it tumbled over and over, rolling towards the edge of the overpass.
With a screeching roar, the SUV slammed up against the metal guardrail. The thin rail snapped under the weight of the heavy vehicle. It crashed through and teetered over the overpass.
As it fell down to the expressway below, the twisted metal ribbons of the severed rail caught in the rear axle. The vehicle lurched to a stop. It swung back and forth, hanging over the road below like a grisly pendulum of twisted metal.
Mariko’s relief was short-lived. A quick glance in her mirror showed the rear SUV gaining on her. The front passenger was leaning out his window. He was now armed with an automatic rifle.
She screamed as a hail of bullets slammed into the rear of her car.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Back in the SUV, Caine had managed to pull himself onto the rear seat and pin the mercenary against the window. He had felt the impact as Mariko rammed the vehicle over and over. Her sudden attack had allowed him to use the other men’s distraction to his benefit.
He twisted his head and saw the front passenger fire his assault rifle at Mariko’s grey sedan. Caine grit his teeth and threw himself back to the floor of the vehicle. He tensed his body as the merc in the backseat recovered and began kicking at his bruised shins.
Ignoring the pain, Caine reached forward between the seat and door frame. His fingers wrapped around the seat release lever. He yanked it backwards.
The front passenger seat tilted back, driving the gunman’s aim up and away from Mariko. The headrest slammed into the face of the merc in the rear seat, and Caine grinned with satisfaction as the man cried out in pain.
He swung his legs up and struck the jaw of the man in the front seat, knocking his head against the door frame. As he lifted himself to a sitting position, Caine saw Mariko’s vehicle.
The sedan was riddled with bullet holes. He could see Mariko inside, as she drifted left and accelerated. She was trying to get out of the line of fire.
Caine paused for a split-second. The man next to him lifted his battered face from the headrest and aimed his weapon at Caine’s head. The front passenger recovered and begin to raise his rifle out the window. The driver turned the wheel, bringing the vehicle behind Mariko. He was lining up the perfect shot.
In that split-second, Caine noticed one thing.
None of them were wearing seatbelts.
Without hesitation, Caine grabbed the belt over his left shoulder. Looping it over his arms and chest, he threw his body forward. His fingers curled around the vehicle’s emergency brake. He yanked it upwards with every ounce of strength he had left.
The rear wheels locked. The tires shuddered and screamed as they bounced across the pavement. Everyone in the car, Caine included, was thrown forward. A white hot dagger of pain lanced through his battered body, as the seatbelt jerked him backwards.
The driver’s face smashed into the windshield. He fell back in a daze, his hands slumping off the wheel. The passenger dropped his rifle and reached over to grab it, but he was too late.
They were traveling too fast. The wheel spun in his hands, and the entire vehicle lurched sideways.
Caine let his body swing from the seatbelt. He kicked the rear mercenary in the head again. The man smashed into the side of the car. He reached out for Caine, but he was fighting against gravity. The entire vehicle was tipping over in his direction.
Caine wrenched himself onto the seat and clicked the shoulder belt across his body. The pavement rushed up to meet them. The side windows exploded inwards, as the vehicle flipped and rolled.
Warm blood dripped down Caine’s face. He wasn’t sure if it was his.
The percussive beat of rain echoed through the cabin. Water droplets spattered off the shattered windows and mangled metal body of the SUV.
He was laying on his side. He struggled to sit up, and found himself staring sideways out the shattered front windshield.
The rear mercenary was suspended in the air, pinned in place by the front passenger seat. His lifeless face was a collage of gashes and wounds. Droplets of warm blood dripped sideways from a cut in his forehead, and struck Caine just below his eye.
No, Caine thought, I’m disoriented. The blood wasn’t dripping sideways. The entire vehicle was sideways. It had stopped rolling and come to a rest on the pavement with the driver’s side facing down.
He patted down his body. Waves of pain shot through his limbs as he applied pressure to several bruises and small gashes, but nothing appeared broken.
With a grunt, he unlatched the seatbelt. The aches and pains intensified as he moved, but he ignored them and began patting down the contractor next to him. He removed the man’s pistol, an American made Kimber 1911, chambered in 45 ACP.
Using the butt of the pistol, he smashed through the spider web of cracked glass in the passenger side window. He held his head up, allowing the cool rain to soothe his battered face and wash away some of the blood. Then, bracing himself for another wave of searing pain, he crawled up and out the shattered window.
He dropped to the pavement and surveyed the wreckage. The SUV had flipped into the path of traffic, and a small pileup of cars surrounded him. Luckily, no one else seemed hurt.
Footsteps approached across the wet pavement. He spun around, raising the pistol in his still bound hands, but it was only Mariko. She jogged through the rain towards him, wet wisps of dark hair plastered to her face.
“Daijobo desu ka? Are you okay?”
Caine nodded. “Thanks to you. You saved my life.”
Mariko brushed the hair from her eyes. “Kusaka’s paid off my superiors. They offered to put me back on duty, as long as I dropped this investigation. They think he’s just a rich businessman trying to avoid a sex scandal. You’re the only person I’ve met who knows that Kusaka is tied to Tokyo Black.”
“So, in other words, you were just doing your duty.”
She slipped a utility knife from her back pocket, and cut through his bonds. “Of course. But if it makes you feel better, when this is all over, you can buy me dinner.”
Caine nodded, then groaned in pain as he flexed his wrists. The muscles in his neck and arms burned. “Deal,” he grunted. “Anywhere you want to go.”
Mariko took his arm as they limped towards her battered grey sedan.
“We’ve got about five minutes before the police show up. And based on what I told my director to go do with himself, I don’t think I’m going to be able to talk our way out of this.”
Caine let her help him into the passenger seat. As he buckled the seatbelt, she slid in and started the car. The engine sputtered and wheezed, then roared to life.
“What’s next?” she asked.
Caine was silent for a second. “Kusaka came to visit me, just before the security team showed up. Whatever he’s planning, it has something to do with China. He sounded obsessed. He blames China’s rise in economic power for all of Japan’s problems.”
Mariko maneuvered around the wreckage on the freeway and sped off down the expressway.
“Mmm,” she said with a nod, “that’s a common sentiment in Japan these days. We have always had an uneasy relationship with China. Many rightwing political groups feel our government has caved in to China’s demands. That we have allowed our shame for our actions in World War II to allow China to flourish, at our expense. But that still doesn’t tell us what he’s planning.”
Caine stared out the side window. “Right. Head for Roppongi.”
Mariko looked over at him. “What’s in Roppongi?”
He did not look back at her. Instead, he studied his reflection in the rain-spattered window. A ruin of cuts and bruises stared back at him.
“Apparently,” he growled, “Kusaka and I have a mutual friend.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
They parked in the alley outside the Yoshizawa koi farm. Caine drew his pistol and stalked towards the metal garage door.
“I thought we were visiting a friend,” Mariko whispered. She drew her own weapon, and scanned the alleyway for danger.
“Yeah, well, there seems to have been a slight misunderstanding. Just follow my lead.”
Mariko nodded and took up a position next to Caine.
Caine rapped on the door, following the same knocking pattern Koichi had used earlier. For a few minutes, nothing happened. Then the door began to roll up. Caine held his pistol ready. But as the door rose, he found himself staring into Koichi’s wrinkled face.
The man looked pale and withered, but his eyes burned with dark intensity. He was flanked on either side by Yoshizawa’s yakuza soldiers. Greased hair, shiny suits. Definitely armed.
“Koichi! I thought you’d be in the hospital. ”
“I was. Then some of my men called to tell me about what happened.”
Mariko looked Koichi up and down with surprise. “The hospital just let a gunshot victim walk? And the police didn’t stop you?”
Koichi made a dismissive gesture. “Cops? Who has time to talk to cops? That’s what lawyers are for. When the oyabun of a yakuza clan is murdered, his second in command can’t just lay resting in bed, now can he?”
The old gangster maintained his stone-faced expression, but Caine could see pain in the lines around his eyes. He knew it was not from the man’s injuries. “So it’s true?” he asked. “Isato is dead?”
Koichi nodded and hobbled away from the door. Caine and Mariko followed as he led them past the pools of koi.
Despite the death of Isato and the chaos that had followed, the old man in the blue windbreaker was still there. He was still singing to the fat koi as they swam in their pools. The old man looked up as they passed. A grave, serious expression hung on his face.
Caine felt a strange emptiness in the pit of his stomach. Isato had been a criminal. The yakuza liked to project an image of modern-day Robin Hoods, rebels who stood for the people of Japan. But he knew most yakuza clans were involved in drugs, prostitution, arms dealing….
To rise to a position of power as Isato had, the man certainly had blood on his hands. But then again, Caine knew he had spilled his share of blood as well.
Caine couldn’t say the world wasn’t better off without a man like Isato in it, but he also couldn’t deny there was something about the old man he had respected. And he was Kenji’s father. They were bound together in a debt of honor that night, years ago. The old bullet wound in Caine’s shoulder began to throb.
“I’m sorry, Koichi. I know he was like a father to you. But you must know I didn’t kill him.”
Koichi uttered a short, pained laugh. “Of course I know. You think we’d be standing here talking if I thought you had?” The old man shook his head. “I wish you had killed him. That would be far less painful than the truth.”
Koichi looked over at Mariko. “Chotto Matte … she’s a cop, right?”
“I’m suspended from duty,” she said. “I’m just here as an observer.”
“Then observe the fish,” Koichi said to her. “They’re beautiful, ne? Caine-san, come with me.”
Caine turned to Mariko. “You mind waiting here?”
“Of course not,” she answered, her voice polite but cold. Her shoulders stiffened, and she turned on her heel a little too fast.
As soon as Caine followed Koichi into the back room, two yakuza thugs took up sentry duty by the door. Mariko sighed and looked down at the bubbling pools of water.
She watched a fat white koi lazily beat its fins in the water. It looked up at her, black eyes glittering, wide mouth gulping. She remembered Hitomi’s words in the car, outside the capsule hotel.
Two sides of the same coin, she had said. Always touching, but never standing together.
Kenji sat before them, sullen and slightly pale, tied to a chair in Isato’s office. He looked up, and Caine saw his pupils were wide and dilated. He was in shock but otherwise appeared unharmed.
The room smelled of soap and bleach, and a large screen television now stood in the corner. Koichi limped over to Isato’s desk and picked up a remote.
“Isato was no fool,” Koichi muttered. “He used this warehouse to meet with rival yakuza, other crime syndicates, dirty cops. He had a security camera installed in that sculpture up there.”
Koichi looked up at the large, wood carving of the swimming koi, hanging on the wall behind Isato’s desk. “Thing ran twenty-four, seven, just in case he needed leverage, or a record of what was said. Take a look. I’ll show you what I showed the men when they called me down here.”
The old man clutched his stomach and groaned as he sat down in Isato’s chair. Kenji looked away from the screen. Koichi pressed play.
Caine watched as the security footage played on the monitor. The video was grainy and washed out, but the images were clear enough.
He saw himself enter the room, as he had several days ago. Kenji walked out, as he and Isato talked. Caine blinked. It had only been, what, a couple days ago? It felt like another lifetime.
Koichi pressed a button, and the footage blurred as the images shifted to fast forward. A time and date stamp in the top right corner of the monitor advanced to the previous evening. The footage returned to normal speed, and Caine watched as Kenji entered the room.
[Thomas Caine #1] Tokyo Black Page 24
