[Thomas Caine #1] Tokyo Black
Page 29
Caine touched her arm. “Mariko, you should know, I have to leave Japan tomorrow.”
She grabbed his hand and stood up. “I know. So we should stop wasting time.”
Their sex was all appetite and hunger. They were two souls, lost in the darkness, clawing for a taste of the light. The flickering neon signs outside bathed them in a pink glow as their bodies writhed and rolled on the enormous circular bed of the love hotel.
When it was over, they collapsed, glowing with sweat and exertion. Mariko rested her head on Caine’s chest, and he felt the tickling caress of her long, dark hair running down his arm. His eyes grew heavy, Mariko’s rhythmic breathing a lullaby. Soon, they were asleep, clinging to each other as if to ward off the nightmares of the past.
Later into the night, the rain that had doused Tokyo earlier returned, and Caine woke to the distant sound of thunder. Raindrops pelted the window, and Mariko moaned softly as the sound pulled her from sleep.
“You know,” Caine said softly, “I had a perfectly good suite at the Hyatt.”
Mariko giggled. “This is better. For us, somehow this feels right.”
“Whatever you say.” Caine kissed her and slid his body on top of hers.
Mariko looked up into his eyes. “First promise me one thing. Tomorrow, when you leave, do not wake me. Do not say goodbye. I feel … new somehow. Reborn. I do not want to start this life with goodbyes.”
“No goodbyes,” Caine agreed.
He entered her again, but slowly this time. Their appetites fulfilled, they focused on prolonging their brief taste of pleasure. Then they slept until dawn.
In the morning, true to his word, Caine quietly dressed and left the love hotel. He shut the door quietly and did not look back at Mariko.
There was no goodbye.
He walked out into the grey dawn and into the puddle-covered streets of Kabukicho. It was early, and the rain still poured down from the clouds overhead. The streets were empty. Caine walked alone past the bars and the batting cages and massage parlors, and all the other pleasures the district had to offer.
Soon, he found himself walking under the Kabukicho gate. Its red lights blinked eternally, even at this hour, like a lighthouse beckoning to the lost and the damned. Caine paused just under the arch. He let the rain wash over him, let the thoughts and memories of the last few days settle. Some drifted away, while others were etched permanently in his mind.
It wasn’t a long pause. Just a brief moment in time. A fraction of a second.
Then, he stepped forward and passed through the gate.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Caine was woken from a restful, dreamless sleep by the chirp of his cellphone. Sitting up in bed, he yawned and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He felt the gentle rocking motion of the waves as his new boat bobbed up and down in the bay.
Warm sunlight streamed in from the side porthole. It bathed his sleeping quarters in the warm, peaceful glow of morning. Soon, the scorching hot Pattaya sun would begin to raise the temperature, but for now the air in the cabin was comfortable. A fresh sea breeze blew down from above deck. It smelled of salt and brine from the water outside.
Caine crawled out of bed and looked around the tiny cabin. He dropped to the floor and did a series of pushups and sit-ups, his morning ritual. Then, when his body was dripping with sweat and his muscles begged for mercy, he stopped. He walked over to the small drafting table he had set up in the corner. Picking up his phone, he saw a waiting text message.
He did not recognize the number, but the sender’s avatar was familiar. It was an anime character with neon green hair and huge, luminous green eyes. Masuka Ongaku.
He knew immediately that the message must have been from Hitomi.
It was a picture. A girl’s feet, lying on a beach. In the distance, hazy and out of focus, Caine could make out aqua blue waves crashing on the shore. Her toenails were painted neon green.
Caine smiled. He didn’t know what the picture meant, or where Hitomi was. But she was out there, somewhere, on a beach, taking pictures of her toes. And that thought made him happy.
A voice called out from above deck. “Boss, looks like you got some company!”
It was Apinya, a local boy he had hired as a deck hand. Together, the two ran the boat as a charter. They took businessmen on fishing trips, or the occasional sightseeing excursion to the stunning rock formations of Khao Phing Kan.
Something in the boy’s tone told him his visitors weren’t looking for a charter boat. He slipped his new Beretta Storm pistol into his waistband and made sure his shirt covered the bulge. “Okay, coming up.”
He climbed the ladder and stepped onto the deck. The wood was already hot and burned the soles of his feet. Apinya, as always, wore a pair of denim cutoffs and no shirt. He pointed to the long pier that led from the shore to their boat’s berth.
A woman in a wheelchair was moving down the pier, past the colorful fishing boats and shaved ice shacks. Men in cargo pants and t-shirts flanked her on either side. Their bulging muscles and wary stance screamed military. Bodyguards, Caine thought, but who are they guarding?
As the woman pushed herself closer, Caine caught a glimpse of copper red hair glowing in the sun. He leapt down from the boat and jogged over to her.
“Rebecca!”
The men tensed, but Rebecca turned and gave them a look. They took a few steps back, and kept their eyes on Caine as she pushed the wheelchair over to him.
“Tom. You look good. Different somehow.”
She was wearing a white linen blouse and khaki shorts. Caine looked at her legs. They were covered with stitches, scars, and burn marks. The wounds were healing, but they looked like they had been severe.
“I didn’t know about the chair. I knew you were hurt, but I thought….”
She shook her head. “According to my doctors, I’m lucky to even be alive. The damage may not be permanent. They don’t know yet. So, we’ll just have to wait and see.”
“Rebecca, I’m sorry.”
“Hey, if nothing else, I’m getting a hell of an upper body workout.”
Caine paused for a moment. The wind picked up and blew at her fiery hair.
“Listen, the last time I saw you, at the prison … I said things. Things I didn’t—”
Rebecca cut him off. “Let’s leave our mistakes in the past, Tom. We’ve both made our share, and I didn’t come here to talk about that.”
Caine nodded. “All right. So, what brings you to Thailand?
Rebecca pulled a manila folder from her Hermes bag. “Believe it or not, work. You’re looking at the new Director of HUMINT.”
Caine smiled. “They gave you Bernatto’s old job.”
“It was the least they could do, don’t you think? They’re cleaning house, and Japan was just the tip of the iceberg. God knows how many off-book ops and unsanctioned hit teams Bernatto was running. Someone’s got to clean up the mess and get the department back on track.”
“I can’t think of a better person for the job,” Caine said.
“Tom, I want you to come back. I don’t know everything that happened, but I do know you were right about Bernatto. I can clear your record. You can come home. You can make a difference.”
Caine thought for a moment “I can work with you, Rebecca, but not for the agency. I can’t place my trust in a bunch of suits sitting behind desks. I can’t make decisions about life or death based on someone else’s morality. Not anymore. I’m strictly freelance now. I choose the missions. I choose the targets. And I choose when to say no. That’s my offer. Take it or leave it.”
Rebecca held the folder out to him. “Freelance it is. Can you give me a quote for this target? Assuming you’ll take the job.”
Caine flipped open the folder. Stapled to the top of a thick dossier was a black-and-white photograph. It was blurry, grainy. Probably a video still pulled from a security camera. It showed a man in a black overcoat, walking out of what looked like a bank. There were burn marks on his fac
e. He wore thick, wireframe glasses.
It was Allan Bernatto.
Caine’s green eyes squinted in the harsh sun as he stared at the picture. His mouth twisted into a snarl.
“I’ll take it. And this one’s on the house.”
Thank you!
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Andrew Warren was born in New Jersey, and studied film, English, and psychology at the University of Miami. He has over a decade of experience in the television and motion picture industry, where he has worked as a post production supervisor, story producer, and writer. He currently lives in Southern California.
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Table of Contents
Title
Copyright
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Thank you!
THOMAS CAINE will RETURN!
About the Author
Table of Contents
Title
Copyright
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Thank you!
THOMAS CAINE will RETURN!
About the Author