Two men were in the steering area, also dressed in black. He joined the man standing by the railing. "Does he suspect anything?" he asked. The prow of the vessel smashed through the waves and saltwater sprayed over him. But he felt exhilarated rather than discomforted.
"No," Yemon Hosaka replied. "He doesn't suspect a thing. It was a good plan. A very good plan."
* * *
"There's a man you need to know about," Brognola growled.
Bolan tucked the telephone under his chin as he stared out the narrow window of the village inn at the deserted gravel and sand road that ran through the heart of the town. A few lights were visible from his position, but most of them were lanterns left outside to illuminate different doorways. "I'm listening."
Brognola outlined the information Kurtzman had given him concerning the man code-named Sacker.
"Sacker," Bolan repeated thoughtfully.
"Do you know the guy?"
"We've never met, but I've got some intel on him in my journals. I first heard of him in Vietnam when he worked the Phoenix Project under Casey. He had a reputation for being able to walk through walls." Bolan shifted, looking out the window again. The man behind the innkeeper's desk was trying to watch him without being noticed. "But it doesn't scan as easy as Sacker trying to protect the United States from an economic takeover bid by Japan." He related the information Ransom had given him.
"Sacker's planning to run the consortium himself through Joji Hosaka?" Brognola asked when he finished.
"No, through Yemon Hosaka. Think about it. That's why Kokan was assassinated instead of Joji Hosaka. Yemon's the third in line for succession as head of the consortium. By taking Kokan out now, before Hosaka, there was no chance for the different business interests to become split over picking their new leader. Once Joji Hosaka is out of the way, Yemon will naturally step into the position."
"You think Yemon's going to kill his father?"
"Yes. He killed Saburo when his knowledge became dangerous. I don't think he'll have any compunctions about killing his father. Saburo was a split-second decision. His father's death is something he's been planning for some time."
"Where do you go from here?"
"Oshima Island," Bolan replied. "Joji Hosaka has a house there. I intend to take Yemon out of the play and squeeze him for information about Sacker."
"You'll be going up against an army, Striker."
"There's no choice. You're out of this for now, Hal. At least we were able to put all the pieces together first. And I won't be entirely alone." Bolan thought of Ransom waiting in the Samurai outside.
"Leave it alone until I can get something put together on this," Brognola said. "There might be something I can do to put some pressure on now that we know what it's all about."
"It'll be too late. And you don't have any real evidence. You've got a handful of guesses from Tucker, and even less from me. Sacker and Yemon Hosaka have tied this thing up nice and neat to frame the United States. Japan won't allow American military personnel free run of their countryside."
"Still, I'm going to push and keep on pushing until something gives," the big Fed said stubbornly. "Somebody will have to listen when…"
Bolan's hearing registered the sound of a gunshot, another less than a heartbeat later, then the phone connection broke. He dropped money in the phone, dialed the number to the restaurant Brognola had left in a coded message from Roberts. There was no response, only static.
Hanging the phone up, Bolan walked outside. Ransom wasn't in the vehicle. He melted into the darkness at the side of the inn, unleathering the Desert Eagle. A chunk of brick slammed from a corner of the building above his head as a cloud of brick dust settled over him. He ducked and ran, hearing the not-too-distant rolling thunder of a high-powered sniper rifle.
Moonlight gleamed on the edged blade that seemed to come from nowhere in front of him. The Executioner lined up the .44 on the black-clad figure with the sword even as another ninja closed in on the heels of the first.
* * *
"Missed him!" Sliding the van door open, Ross Tuley bolted from the vehicle, dropping the sniper rifle he'd used in his attempt on Brognola and unslinging the MAC-10. He sprinted across the street, closing in on the man from Justice. Vardeman was a shadow at his side.
He flagged Vardeman to the narrow alley at the side of the building. "The side, the side. The back door leads that way."
Vardeman nodded and veered off.
Tuley triggered a sustained burst across the window that had been punctured by the rifle bullets, showering bits and pieces of glass over the people diving for cover. A slow-moving man took a 3-round burst in the throat as Tuley came to a stop in the shelter of the door. Even as the man went down the merc looked for Brognola. The man was on a cane. He couldn't have gotten far.
Emptying the clip across the walls to keep the customers down, Tuley reloaded and dashed across the eating area, knocking tables out of his way. The back door was sliding shut as he came up on it. A man dressed in a cook's apron and hat swung unexpectedly from the kitchen, clasping a heavy meat cleaver.
Tuley blocked the blow with the MAC-10, drawing the .45 holstered at his belt before the man could swing again. The heavy bullets slammed the cook against a stainless-steel table.
A single shot sounded in the alley. Tuley holstered the .45 and wheeled around the corner, the MAC-10 up and ready. The weapon was knocked from his hands as a gun muzzle slammed against his forehead.
* * *
Ransom felt panic tearing at her with the sharp beak of a hawk at the knowledge that her grandfather must be somewhere in the night. She forced it away, forced her legs to carry her up the side of the wooden building toward the sniper who had shot at Belasko.
She wore black clothing again, as Belasko did, and had strapped her sword across her shoulders. Leaping up from the rickety eave overhanging the first floor, she threw a hand over the top of the second floor and forced her body to follow.
Her head topped the roof's edge as the sniper started to turn toward her. A knife suddenly pierced the man's left cheek, nailing his face to the stock of the rifle. His scream was bloodcurdling, continuing even after a shadow ran from the darkness of the roof and kicked him over the edge.
Recognition swept over Ransom as she clambered onto the roof. "Grandfather."
"Michi," the old man acknowledged, drawing his sword. "Are you all right?"
"Yes." She joined him at the railing and looked down at the road. Besides the body of the man in the road, there were two other corpses near the inn where Belasko had gone to use the phone. "These men are not yours?"
"No, they belong to Yemon. I thought I had lost them, but he has trained them better than I believed."
"When I saw this man up here, I thought you were behind the attack."
The old man led the way to the side of the building, uncoiling a thin nylon rope from a pocket inside his uniform. "Because of Saburo?"
"Yes."
"Faugh," he said with a shake of his head. "Yemon lied about this American killing Saburo. He has never been able to lie to me. His father might believe him, but I do not." He slid down the rope.
The woman followed him a moment later, relief coursing through her because her grandfather wasn't pursuing Belasko. "Yemon killed Saburo."
"Yes, that is what I believed." The old man made himself a part of the darkness.
Ransom was surprised to find her sword in her hand. Her heartbeat was regular. Perspiration stained her hands. "And what of Belasko?"
"The man you were with?"
"Yes."
"I found out from Akemi that you were here. I came to take you away from this. With the things Joji Hosaka and his consortium have set into motion, the earth may open up and swallow all of us. I want you to be safe."
"I can't leave Belasko to finish this by himself."
"He is a warrior. It is what he must do."
"And I also, Grandfather. You trained me to be a warrior as well, remember?"
His eyes met hers. "I remember. It was all I had to give you."
"You gave me much more than that. You gave me love, and a sense of honor that saw me through a time more barren than anything I have seen since. Belasko's fight is mine. I made it mine before he even knew of it."
The old man studied her in the darkness. "Yes, I suppose you did. Let us go find this American of yours." He moved away silently.
Face burning because she believed her grandfather had read more into her words than she had wanted, Ransom followed.
* * *
"Come out here, you son of a bitch," Brognola growled, keeping the .38 leveled at Ross Tuley. He held the cane in a clenched fist, fingers still numb from the swipe that had taken the MAC-10 from the man's hands.
A cut on Tuley's forehead dribbled blood down his nose. "It's okay, General. You caught me." He smirked and laced his hands behind his head. "I'm your prisoner."
Lowering the cane, Brognola limped back to the first man he'd shot. The man was sprawled back over a row of metal trash cans, a single bullet hole over his heart.
"That's some shooting," Tuley said admiringly. "Vardeman was a good soldier. It says something that you were able to take him."
"He wasn't expecting me to be standing there when he came around the corner."
"Neither was I."
Brognola curbed the impatience running through him, centering the .38's muzzle on Tuley's chest. "Okay, smart guy, I want some answers."
"I want a lawyer."
"You're in Tokyo, clown. I don't think their justice system is as lenient as ours in the States."
"You might be surprised. There are any number of things that can be arranged here." Tuley smiled. "Already have been, in case you didn't notice."
"Where's Sacker?"
"I don't know." A grin spread across Tuley's face. "Hey, John, glad to see you could make the party."
Footsteps sounded behind Brognola to let him know Tuley's words weren't a ruse. He turned slowly, keeping the gun trained on his prisoner. Winterroad stood in the mouth of the alley with a pistol filling his hand.
A foot-long muzzle-flash exploded from the weapon even as Brognola glimpsed Tuley going into action behind him.
* * *
Bolan triggered the Desert Eagle twice, the impacts nearly decapitating the first man. The next somersaulted over the corpse, moving too fast for the Executioner to get target acquisition.
A blade flashed toward Bolan's throat, and he dodged away from it. Before he hit the road, the warrior lifted the .44 and put a round into the man's chest, staggering him. The next round punched through the ninja's head and whined off the brick wall behind him.
Then the Executioner was up and running for the protection of the shadows clinging to the single-story shop next to the inn, unwilling to quit the battle zone until he found out what had happened to Michi Ransom. His combat senses flared around him, marking off fields of fire, probable hiding places and avenues of escape should that become necessary.
Autofire rang out, driving the warrior over a low fence next to the shop. He switched magazines on the Desert Eagle, wanting a fresh one for any more confrontations. As he surveyed the road, looking for the unseen gunman, a shadow broke free of the building across the street, flanked by another one carrying a bow.
The bowman let an arrow fly, hardly pausing at all before reaching for another. A scream cut through the night as a ninja fell from hiding and lay unmoving on the rooftop of a nearby building.
The first ninja reached the Samurai, and it fired up a moment later. "Belasko!" Ransom screamed, pulling her mask off so that he could see her.
Autofire tracked onto the bowman running toward the moving vehicle. Bolan stood and fired several shots toward the muzzle-flashes. Whether they hit or not, the bullets drove the gunner to the ground. The Executioner vaulted the fence, changing clips on the run as Ransom brought the 4×4 around. He saw the bow-carrying ninja race over to it and catch hold of the rear, standing atop the bumper as he armed his weapon again.
The warrior sprinted to the middle of the road, aware that another vehicle was in motion. A long sedan tore from hiding, aiming for the smaller Samurai. Drawing the driver's side into target acquisition, the Executioner flamed three shots into the windshield, causing it to veer out of control.
The sedan slammed into the 4×4 with enough force to threaten the control Ransom had over the vehicle. The Samurai skidded for a moment, and Bolan could see the woman fighting desperately with the steering wheel. The 4×4 hit the corner of a brick building, showering sparks in its wake. The sedan didn't fare so well, colliding head-on with the unmoving wall. The front end crumpled.
An explosion rocked the ground near Bolan, its concussive force blowing him off his feet. He rolled, coming up into a standing position. He tasted blood from a split lip, the dirt of the road.
The bowman lifted his weapon, aiming at the ninja fifty feet away, who was readying another grenade. The arrow pierced the man's throat, causing him to drop the deadly egg. A moment later the corpse was ripped to bloody shreds.
Bolan ran to the felled sniper and checked the long-barreled rifle for damage as he took momentary cover in a doorway. He wiped dust from the Star-Tron scope mounted on the Steyr-Mannlicher Model M Professional and holstered the .44. Working the bolt, he slid a fresh round into the chamber, then raised it to his shoulder as the Star-Tron took away the night. The weight was like an old friend, the ability to see his enemies clearly a refreshing change.
Autofire chased the archer from the road, kicking up dust and gravel as it tracked back toward Ransom and the 4×4. The Executioner squeezed the trigger gently, worked the bolt, then squeezed gently again. Two men died. He was back in his element now, as unforgiving as the gunsight he used. The bolt pulled back empty.
Slinging the rifle, Bolan ran to the dead sniper and cut the ammo pouch from his waist. He glanced toward the archer, finding the man with sword in hand dispatching a final attacker.
Then the road was quiet.
Bolan loaded the rifle, slid the bolt home and drew the Desert Eagle. He walked toward the waiting Samurai, seeing the pockmarks of bullets scattered across the hood and the windshield. "Are you all right?" he asked Ransom.
Her smile was streaked with dirt. "I am now. Maybe our problems aren't as large as I thought. I'd like to introduce Kiyosha Ogata, my grandfather, who came here to rescue me, and who doesn't believe you killed Saburo Hosaka."
Understanding the meaning behind her words, Bolan holstered the .44 and faced the man. Ogata tugged off his hood, his eyes hard and glittering. "I understand from Akemi that I am indebted to you for saving my granddaughter's life." He bowed.
Returning the bow, Bolan said, "I think we're about even. She didn't need as much rescuing as Akemi might have made you think."
"Hai, so I, too, have learned."
Bolan swung into the driver's seat as Ransom moved into the back. Ogata took the passenger seat. The warrior released the clutch and started the vehicle in the direction of the road leading to Atami almost twenty-five miles away. The town was also the fastest route to Oshima Island, according to the maps Bolan had studied.
"Where to?" Ransom asked.
"First, I find a safe spot to drop you and your grandfather. Then I've got to find Yemon Hosaka and the man behind the American mercenaries."
"You know who he is?" Ransom asked.
Bolan nodded.
"You're not leaving me," Ransom said defiantly.
"Yes, I am," Bolan replied with conviction.
"And you're wrong about leaving Grandfather behind, too. He's still as involved as you are."
Bolan looked at the old man, seeing the truth of the woman's statement in the wrinkled features. "What if Joji Hosaka tells you to kill us?"
"Bolan!" Ransom sounded furious.
Ogata spoke up. "I do not think that will be a problem. Those men back there had instructions to kill Michi and me as well as you. They belonged to Yemon." He paused. "I
am sure Yemon has taken care of all the loose ends now. He used Saburo's murder as a means to get me away from his father. I used my instructions as a means of securing Michi's safety. I did not know Yemon had killed Saburo. Otherwise I would have stayed and protected Joji Hosaka, as my honor demanded. Now I think I will find myself in the position of avenging his death, which will align our goals."
Bolan nodded. "I think you're right."
"Can you afford to let Yemon and his partner get away with this?" Ransom asked. "Now that things have progressed to this point, there's no turning back."
"I know," Bolan said.
"And," Ransom added, "we know the island."
Bolan sighed, realizing he had no real choice, not if he wanted to better his chances for completing the mission. The Samurai continued rolling through the night.
* * *
Winterroad saw the surprised expression on Tuley's face when the man realized the gun was directed at him instead of Brognola. The big-bore slug caught Tuley in the forehead and spread-eagled him in the alley.
Brognola completed the move to bring the .38 around as Winterroad raised his weapon. "It's okay. Tuley was going for a sleeve gun. He used to carry it all the time when we worked together at the Agency."
He watched the Justice agent hobble over to inspect Tuley's body, the .38 still in hand. Brognola raked at something with the cane, exposing the large-calibered derringer cupped in the dead man's hands.
The big Fed looked up and took a cigar from his pocket after putting the pistol away. "I had some doubts concerning you after I heard about Sacker."
Winterroad let his surprise show. "I wasn't aware you knew about Sacker."
"Tucker left me some intel. When I had it researched, your name came up. I thought he might have recruited you."
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