And then the ninja shot forward, burying a front kick through the jacket into Cole’s chest; a final, fatal blow that sent Cole flying over the edge, hands grasping at the air, too far from the car to ever hope to hold on, his body tumbling and spiraling through space as he fell toward the rocky mountain valley below.
Half an hour later, Kenzo Hiroshi was driving back to Tokyo, the unconscious body of Aoki Michiko laid on the floorboards of the rear seats behind him.
The American had been a warrior of great courage, but in the end that had not been enough, and now the man was gone. He personally regretted the man’s death, but business was business, and his employers would be grateful.
The girl had fought like a wild banshee when the cable car had docked at the Owakudani lookout station, but it was to no end – Kenzo had quickly knocked her out cold, right in front of a parking lot full of witnesses who were simply too scared to intervene. He hadn’t even had to steal a car; he had merely demanded the keys from the nearest person, who had meekly handed them over.
It was pathetic; but that was people for you, Kenzo considered, and he once more regretted the loss of the brave American. But at least the man had seen the majesty of Fujiyama before he’d died, as Kenzo had hoped.
As he piloted the car down the narrow mountain roads which would lead him to the tip of Lake Ashi, and then to the larger roads which would take him back to the city, Kenzo reflected on what he had discovered.
The girl, in her frantic excitement, had called the American ‘otosan’, screaming the word as she’d watched him fall from the car.
Father.
It would certainly explain the curious bond between them, and Kenzo wondered if anyone else knew; and if they didn’t, what he could do with the information.
But, he decided, it could wait; his main objective now was to return to Tokyo – probably by stealing one or two more cars, as this one would soon be tainted by witness testimony – and deliver the girl to the Omoto-gumi, at which stage he could press on with his plans for a much more important task.
The assassination of Toshikatsu Endo.
4
‘This madness must stop,’ demanded Yamaguchi Chomo, news of three inter-gang gun battles on the streets of Tokyo having reached him just hours earlier.
It had been decided – by someone – that the Inagawa-kai suddenly had close familial links to the Shimazaki-kai, and the Omoto-gumi was now being held responsible for the recent murders, the shooters of the Tanizaki-kai now regarded as mere proxies for Chomo’s group.
But Chomo knew what was really going on – the other gang leaders had sensed weakness within the Omoto-gumi, and were now wishing to capitalize upon it. The Inagawa-kai was just the first to make its move, but Chomo knew that others would soon follow.
The joint Inagawa-kai and Shimazaki-kai attacks on the Omoto-gumi had been ruthlessly suppressed by Mitsuya and his brutal ‘kamikaze squad’, but Chomo didn’t want it to go any further – when he took control of the Yamaguchi-gumi, as he still fully intended to, he didn’t want to inherit a broken organization.
The news that Michiko was back – and thank the heavens for the ninja! – was now widely known, and had already helped to shore up the Omoto-gumi position. The girl was now being held in a secure location, under the watchful eye of her adoptive father, to ensure her continued safety.
But Chomo still had to make sure that no more opportunities arose to stop him taking full control.
He looked across the low wooden table towards Kojiro Shinzo, oyabun of Tokyo’s powerful Inagawa-kai. ‘It must stop,’ he said again. ‘You know we had nothing to do with those Shimazaki killings, we have no connection of any kind to the Tanizaki-kai. Do we really want to break up the Yamaguchi-gumi before Yamamoto’s body is even cold?’ He shook his head slowly. ‘Such actions are a mark of disrespect.’
‘I agree,’ Watanabe Haruto said, ‘and although I have no wish to take sides, there have already been fights between a number of the groups represented here, within Kobe itself. A man from the Takenaka-gumi from Hiroshima was killed not too far from here just this morning. The police are starting to look at us a little too closely, and I don’t like it. Such factions within the Yamaguchi-gumi could threaten the organization.’
‘I understand,’ said Kojiro carefully, ‘and yet what are we to do? My people in Tokyo received word about the involvement of a certain group in the recent killings of men connected to the Inagawa-kai, and their tempers got the better of them. I regret the incidents, and have instructed my men to refrain from further action.’
Chomo almost smiled; it was only because his own men had come off worse that Kojiro regretted any of it. But Chomo knew the next time the Inagawa-kai made a move, they would make sure they were successful. Because despite the Omoto-gumi’s financial success, and Mitsuya’s violent reputation, they were still a minority group in terms of numbers, at least compared to the Inagawa and Sumiyoshi.
Violence had been flaring up everywhere, and Chomo wanted it stopped in its tracks. The LDP rally was tonight, and time was fast running out.
‘We cannot afford to waste any more time,’ Chomo said gravely. ‘Already we are starting to fragment, and this means a loss of business for us all. Let us not forget what happened last time a decision on the leadership was stalled – four years without a kumicho, and a great deal of revenue lost, not to mention the damage to the Yamaguchi reputation.
‘And tonight is the LDP rally, and after that – who knows? Will the constitution change? Will there be a snap election? And what then? We need to be in a strong, secure position to deal with whatever happens. We need a vote on the Yamaguchi-gumi leadership now, this morning, before anything else happens.
‘You have all heard of recent problems within my own organization – but I know that nobody here can claim to be immune to problems. What you should know about me and the Omoto-gumi is that we have dealt with such problems quickly and efficiently – we have back our golden princess, and our financial future is secured. A financial future, I remind you, that will continue to bring in sums far in excess of any other group in membership of the Yamaguchi-gumi.
‘I would like a vote on the leadership,’ Chomo continued, ‘and I would like the votes to be cast for me, Yamaguchi Chomo. I control the most successful group within the clan, I bring in the most money, I have business and political connections that others can only dream of and – let us not forget – the leadership of the clan is my birthright. I am the only person here related to Yamaguchi Harukichi by blood.’
Chomo left it there, knowing the huge part that bloodlines played in the national psyche. They might be separated by generations, but there was a clear link for Chomo that simply did not exist for the others round the table. And even if the men here did not appreciate that, they knew that their own followers – the foot soldiers who made up the vast bulk of yakuza membership – certainly would.
‘I agree,’ Watanabe said from his position at the head of the table. ‘We will vote this morning. We cannot risk delaying any longer.’
There was murmured assent from around the table, the subject agreed upon.
‘One hour,’ Watanabe said. ‘Then we decide the fate of the Yamaguchi-gumi.’
Nakamura Jirai looked down at the man in the hospital bed, and shook his big head.
‘I must be crazy not to have handed you over to the Nai-cho,’ he said, referring to the cabinet intelligence and research office whose representatives had been clamoring to get at the man.
‘Don’t give me that,’ said Cole with half a smile, his aching body shot through with powerful painkillers.
He had survived the fall from the cable car – barely – by a combination of miraculous good fortune, and a great deal of skill. He’d managed to angle his body through the air so that it hadn’t hit the jagged rocks on impact; instead, he had fallen straight into one of the thermal pools, steaming away on the hillside. And while the speed of the descent had still forced him down to the rocky base of
the pool floor, knocking him out and damaging his body, the hot water had sufficiently slowed his velocity to mean that the fall had not been lethal.
Tourists had dived in and pulled his unconscious body out, and the local emergency services had appeared on the scene soon after, even as the ninja had been escaping with Michiko.
As to why Nakamura had not handed him over to the intelligence services, Cole knew that a lot of it was wrapped up in their initial meeting at the Kodokan; they were brother warriors, and Nakamura was a man of honor.
He was also a good cop, which meant he was curious in the extreme; and he’d be damned if someone else found out the truth about the American’s purpose in Japan before he did.
Nakamura had therefore covered up the rescue of the American from the Hakone hillside, and Cole was now in a privately guarded room in a special, no-questions-asked hospital back in Tokyo.
Cole’s body was slowly recovering from the recent, shocking impact, but his mind was already one step ahead, sharper than ever.
‘What did you find?’ he asked Nakamura hopefully, sitting up straight.
His earlier fears about the man’s loyalties now gone, Cole had told Nakamura the truth about his real reason for being in Japan, although he had still refused to give his true identity. He had merely described himself as an ex-soldier, in part to explain how he had met Michiko’s mother all those years ago.
He had also – as part of their agreement back when Cole had been the freelance reporter Richard Baxter – told Nakamura about why Michiko was so valued, about the lucrative, hi-tech sokaiya racket the Omoto-gumi had developed. He hadn’t said it was her idea, of course, merely that she was being held by the Omoto-gumi and forced to do it against her will.
In return for his information, Nakamura – in a joint raid with the Organized Crime Control Bureau and the Special Assault Team – had just raided the Omoto-gumi headquarters in Marunouchi, as well as a number of family-controlled businesses throughout the city. Cole had badly wanted to go along but – in addition to not being physically up to the task – as an American he would have drawn far too much unwanted attention to himself.
‘Did you find her?’ Cole asked again. ‘Did you find Michiko?’
Nakamura shook his head sadly. ‘I am sorry,’ he said earnestly, ‘but we did not. Nor did we find Yamaguchi Mitsuya either. In fact, we found almost nothing, no evidence of criminal activity at all, or at least none important enough to hold anyone over.’
‘They were tipped off?’ Cole asked angrily.
‘It looks that way,’ Nakamura said with a nod.
‘Who?’ Cole demanded. ‘Give me a name.’
‘It was Kadena,’ Nakamura said with regret. ‘Kadena Masaaki.’
Cole gritted his teeth; the man he’d first been in contact with, the assistant inspector with the Criminal Investigation Bureau, had been working hand-in-hand with the yakuza all along!
‘Where is he?’
‘He’s dead,’ Nakamura replied gravely
‘How?’ Cole asked.
‘He pulled a gun on me,’ Nakamura said, ‘but it seems I was too quick for him. He suffered a broken neck, unfortunately before we could question him. But the incident caused us to look at him, and he seems to have been working with the Omoto-gumi for some time – probably the reason he agreed to meet you in the first place, to get information he could sell to them.’ He shook his head. ‘I always thought Masaaki was an oddball, but this is really something else. Bastard!’ Nakamura’s hand slammed hard against the side table, spilling the glass of water that rested there.
He bent down to pick up the glass. ‘Sorry,’ he said quietly, embarrassed by his loss of temper.
But Cole understood, only too well – it was a man he had worked with, probably for years. Such treachery was enough to make anyone feel the deep-seated rage of betrayal.
Another thought occurred to him then.
‘The call to the nightclub?’ Cole asked. ‘The one that alerted Mitsuya to me in the first place?’
Nakamura nodded. ‘Yes, that was him too. Since his death we’ve traced his calls – as well as the large sums of money in his bank accounts – and one of them was to the club office that same night.’
‘Bastard,’ Cole breathed, mirroring Nakamura’s earlier sentiments.
‘Yes,’ Nakamura agreed. ‘And that is not all either. I have just received word from Kobe that an election has finally been held to replace Yamamoto as head of the Yamaguchi-gumi.’
Cole braced himself, knowing what was coming.
‘Yamaguchi Chomo has been elected,’ Nakamura confirmed, ‘he is the new kumicho, the godfather of godfathers and now one of the most powerful men in Japan. He will be officially named in a ceremony at the Yamaguchi compound in Kobe tomorrow, and then it won’t be long before the family is completely untouchable.’
‘I need to get out of here,’ Cole said, pushing aside the sheets. The pain in his head threatened to overwhelm him, but he ignored it, swinging his bare feet to the cold, tiled floor. ‘I need to find Michiko.’
‘Sit back down,’ Nakamura said, holding up his hands, ‘and listen.’ When he saw that Cole wasn’t listening, Nakamura moved forward to block his way. ‘Listen. While I was gone, I also spoke to . . . friends of yours back in the States, and we have come to an . . . arrangement of sorts.’
Friends? Cole wondered who it could be. Was it Vinson? Cole hadn’t been allowed the use of a phone since being here – and up until now probably couldn’t have used one anyway – and he was sure Vinson would have been trying to get in touch, find out what was going on.
‘Who?’ Cole asked.
Nakamura just smiled and handed him a telephone. ‘I do not know his name. But why do you not speak to him yourself?’
Cole took the cell phone and put it to his ear.
‘Mark?’ came the familiar voice, and Cole was pleased that he had been right; it was Bruce Vinson, his chief-of-staff back at Force One.
‘Yes,’ Cole replied, ‘good to hear from you.’
‘You too, old chap,’ Vinson said. ‘Rather worried about you for a while, we were. Colonel Wilkes sent a team from Camp Fuji to investigate all the excitement, but the area was already being sectioned off by the local police, and then the TMPD arrived on the scene and that was that. But Inspector Nakamura there seems a good enough fellow, you’re in safe hands with him.’
‘She’s gone,’ Cole said in a flat monotone.
‘Yes, we know. But don’t you worry about that. We have it in hand.’
‘What do you mean?’ Cole asked. ‘I have to find her. I – ’
‘No,’ Vinson interrupted him, ‘you have to do something else, something even more important.’
‘But Michiko – ’
‘We’ll find Michiko,’ Vinson said. ‘And I think you’ll agree that our resources are better than yours, stuck there on your own.’
‘But I thought the US isn’t allowed to work here at the moment?’
‘It’s a compromise we’ve reached with your inspector there,’ Vinson said. ‘He’s going to facilitate our investigation, in exchange for your help.’
‘My help?’ Cole asked. ‘With what?’
‘Let’s just say that President Abrams is adamant that the United States continues to work with Toshikatsu and the LDP,’ he said. ‘Better the devil you know and all that. And the last thing we want is Zen Ai Kaigi – or any other ultranationalist group, for that matter – being elected in his place. It would be back to the bad old days of Japanese imperialism, and the ramifications for Asia, as well as the rest of the world, cannot be overstated. Added to which, as you already know, the Yamaguchi-gumi has a new leader who is evidently very friendly with the ultranationalists. And a combination of the world’s largest criminal organization with a far-right, militaristic government, is a recipe for disaster if ever there was one.’
‘You’re right,’ Cole admitted. ‘You’re right.’
‘There’s something else too,’ Vinso
n added. ‘It seems that Japanese intelligence – independently of anything you’ve been up to, but certainly not helped by it – has been picking up on rumors that the proposed assassination is some sort of American-led plot, a covert CIA operation.’
‘What?’ Cole asked in disbelief. ‘And they believe it?’
‘We are being led to understand that – to stave off the threat of the ultranationalists – Toshikatsu will be announcing a redrafting of the constitution at tonight’s rally. It stands to reason that we don’t want him to do this, yes? And so Zen Ai Kaigi – or whoever is really behind this – can easily do what they want to do and then blame America for it. Obviously we can’t allow that to happen, but we’re limited as to what we can do there at the minute, as we’re not really welcome.’
‘So what do you want me to do?’ Cole asked.
‘I’ll let Nakamura fill you in on the details,’ Vinson said. ‘But be sure you do it. Orders from the top. And don’t worry about Michiko, we’ll take care of her.’
‘Let me know the minute you find her,’ Cole said.
‘We will, old chap,’ Vinson confirmed, then hung up.
Cole turned back to Nakamura, handing him the phone. ‘So,’ he said, ‘what is it?’
‘I need you at the Skytree for the LDP rally tonight,’ Nakamura said. ‘We think someone’s going to try and kill Toshikatsu there.’
Cole nodded, knowing it would be the perfect time to strike. ‘Why me?’ he asked.
Nakamura smiled. ‘I believe that the man who killed Yamamoto Tsuji is the same man that plans to kill Toshikatsu. A ninja.’
‘But why me?’ Cole asked again.
At this, Nakamura reached into his pocket and withdrew a flat-bladed shuriken throwing star, turning it between his fingers until it caught the light, reflected off its metal surface. Cole recognized it as one of the weapons the man had thrown at him at Sounzan station the day before.
NEVER SAY DIE: Mark Cole Takes On the Yakuza in His Most Thrilling Adventure Yet! Page 29
