Very weird.
Where were Yaibo? What was Katsuda really up to? Probably Schwanberg had known, but he was not going to tell anyone anything now.
"Still nothing," said the Spider. He, too, was unsettled.
* * * * *
Katsuda's truly repulsive appearance severely limited his public appearances.
He lived in the seclusion of his own world, in the darkness and shadows of his own creations. This behavior limited neither his work nor his ambition, but regularly he felt a need for release. Apart from his women and the ambivalence he felt toward them because of his burn-distorted features, his relaxation and his window to the outside world were the movies.
He watched them to the point of obsession. The movies were not inwardly disgusted by how he looked. They were pleasure, pure and simple.
Film fulfilled his need for escape, stimulated his imagination, and appealed to his sense of the dramatic. Privately, Katsuda considered that if events had not taken the direction they had, he would have made an outstanding actor. He had a fine voice and projected it well, and his movements were well-coordinated. All that was missing were looks.
From the movies, Katsuda had followed the extraordinary developments of special effects and, of even more interest, specialized makeup. Sometimes, the results on the screen were so good that it seemed to him he could apply them to his own situation and appear, albeit for a limited time, normal.
He had cultivated one of the leading makeup artists in Japan and had even sent him to Hollywood to advance his craft to state of the art. The results were encouraging, brilliant even, if he was seen from a short distance away, but in close-up the artificiality was always detectable. It was a bitter disappointment, but he persevered. One day, he thought, they would get it right, and it was undeniable that makeup skills were steadily improving.
For the meeting with Fumio Namaka, such an artifice was arguably not necessary, but it appealed to his sense of theater.
It would be an entirely appropriate way to lead into the final act of his destruction of the Namaka clan; and the actual execution method he planned to employ deserved such a buildup. Decades ago, Hodama and the Namaka brothers had eliminated Katsuda's family in a locked, burning house. Now the last of the Namakas would also die in flames.
Katsuda was very aware that Fumio might have a few tricks up his sleeve, so had devoted a great deal of time to taking precautions. He had studied the plan of Hodama's residence for several days and finally had come up with something that he was sure beyond any doubt at all would guarantee surprise. And, of course, his own preparations were in addition to the fire support he would be getting from Schwanberg in the airship.
Nothing was certain, but as his limousine approached the gates of Hodama's house, Katsuda was as sure as any reasonable man could be when making a major movie that his preparations would ensure success.
* * * * *
"See anything?" said Fitzduane.
"Negative," said Chifune, what was all business when operational.
"A lot of pebbles," said Lonsdale, who felt the mood could do with some lightening.
Both Chifune and Lonsdale were professional and would report instantly anything untoward, but Fitzduane was getting increasingly concerned and a little strain was showing. He could still see nothing but Fumio standing beside the open-sided summer house where they were to have the meeting and Katsuda being checked in and searched at the gate. Surely, he should have detected something else by now. He could not see the pair of them meeting and just sticking out their tongues at each other.
He had two snipers, Lonsdale and Chifune, eyeballing the confrontation, but their vision was severely restricted because their eyes were glued to their telescopic sights. That had been the original plan and had made sense with Fitzduane and Mike Bergin and the pilot monitoring the bigger picture, but it was somewhat problematical now they were short two pairs of eyes.
It was time to make a change in the arrangements.
Lonsdale was targeted, but Chifune was not yet allocated, and right now it was not much good having an extra sniper if she had nothing to shoot at. Also, in training he had noticed that Chifune was about as fast as anyone at acquiring a target, so if she had to return to her scope in a hurry, it should not cause any serious grief. Chifune was not as good with the Barrett as Al, but she was one hell of a combat shot p to about a kilometer.
For both of them, five hundred yards, with precision equipment, made for virtually guaranteed single-shot kills. The best of special-operations people were somewhat frightening.
"Chifune," said Fitzduane. "Try binoculars. We need a second kibitzer. I think I'm missing something here."
"Affirmative," said Chifune, and put down her rifle. Her binoculars gave her a much wider field to examine, and the brilliantly lit triangle seen from above was easy to search.
She followed the driveway in and searched the open garden area to the right. There was a bench, some stone pots containing dwarf plants, and a couple of stone lanterns strategically placed on a bed of pebbles. It was very simple and beautiful, and the thought came to her that whatever villainy Hodama had been up to, he had good taste. The entire garden was an exercise in simplicity. Which meant there were very few places to hide in, and the house had already been searched by representatives of both sides and sealed. No, Fitzduane was right to worry. Something they had not anticipated was going to happen.
She swung her binoculars to the left of the driveway and began searching the much larger area of garden there. Her glasses rested on an ornate well with a small pagoda top, but she was looking diagonally and could not see down it.
"The well," she said. "It's a possibility. It's big enough."
"Maybe," said Fitzduane, "but it doesn't lead anywhere and it was searched and sealed when they did the house."
"They're going to zap each other with telepathy," said Lonsdale.
"Shut the fuck up, Al," said Fitzduane politely. "Please," he added.
Chifune scanned to the open-sided summer house. Still nothing, except Fumio Namaka standing there and Katsuda, still about thirty yards away, walking toward him on the irregular stone path that circumscribed the house. By agreement, their respective drivers had both stayed with the limousines.
She was running out of time. She searched the bank of ornamental plants. No room to hide even a midget here. She swept on past another ishi-doro to a decorative pond which was positioned to the side of the house fairly close to the surrounding wall. A stone bridge led to a miniature island which actually touched the perimeter wall.
"A way-out thought," she said. "Could they have tunneled under the wall?"
"Supposedly not," said Fitzduane. "There are sensors against that possibility and the police have the outside walls under observation."
Chifune did a quick sweep along the back of the house past an inscribed Garden Tablet and then moved on to a boulder garden. Still no sign of anything except what was supposed to be there.
Something niggled at her.
The circling airship had now moved on so that she could see not only Hodama's residence, but also the adjoining house and gardens. This was an area of luxury residences. The neighboring house also had a pond and it was on the other side of the wall from Hodama's Neither actually touched the wall, but the congruence looked more than coincidence.
Suppose they shared the same water? A culvert between them or maybe just a grating. Sensors in the water with goldfish and turtles paddling about the irises? Unlikely!
"The pond," she said urgently, her binoculars now focused on the black surface of the water. "Hugo, LOOK AT THE POND!"
Fitzduane had been concentrating on Fumio Namaka and the approaching figure of Katsuda, but at Chifune's shout he looked quickly at the black water. Something was decidedly odd about it.
As he watched, it began to undulate, as if it was coming to a boil or was haven to a mass of writhing snakes.
Suddenly, he understood at least part of what was happening. And
he had an uneasy feeling that this was only the beginning.
"Hold your fire, people," he said. "But stand by on my mark."
This was a scene that had to be played out. Chifune returned to her .300 Winchester Magnum.
Fitzduane focused on Namaka and Katsuda and the summer house with its broad-eaved thatched roof. Katsuda, unaware of the airship on high and assuming support from Schwanberg, knew better than to go inside. His guardians had to be able to see him.
It was going to start happening any second now.
"Fitzduane-san," the Spider's voice sounded in Fitzduane's headphones urgently. "Something we did not expect in central Tokyo. I have received reports of two Huey helicopters without lights approaching low and at speed. No flight plan has been filed and they are headed precisely in your direction. ETA within two minutes, perhaps sooner."
Civilian helicopter overflight was supposed to be banned in central Tokyo, particularly in Akasaka, where not only did Hodama have his exclusive residence but so did the Emperor of Japan. Clearly, the imminent arrivals were no respecters of the rules.
A neat operation looked like it was turning very messy; or maybe a great deal worse.
Their invisible airship suddenly felt like the very large target it was.
25
Tokyo, Japan
July 12
Fumio Namaka watched the gaijin walk toward him.
In the glare of the perimeter floodlights and from a distance, he looked somehow smaller and slighter than when they had met in the Namaka Tower, but doubtless that was an illusion. The Irishman was wearing a dark suit, and that tended to reduce the impression of size. Or perhaps it was natural to imagine a much-hated enemy as larger than he really was.
The steel-gray hair and features were unmistakable. As he looked at Fitzduane, Fumio almost regretted the imminent arrival of the Yaibo helicopters. His anticipation of this man's death was fulfillment in itself. The actual execution would be almost an anticlimax.
"Namaka-san," said the gaijin. He had stopped about ten yards away. "It is good to see you," he said. "It is a long-deferred pleasure."
Fumio started. The voice was different, and the gaijin was speaking in Japanese! He did not know what, but something was definitely amiss.
He looked around uncertainly. Where before the garden had been empty, now heavily armed masked figures in black rubber suits and hoods were emerging from the pond like some nightmare of hell.
Within seconds, he was surrounded, his arms and legs pinioned, and he was rammed against one of the summer-house uprights. He felt cold steel against his wrists, and he realized that he had been handcuffed in place.
He could hear the distant whump-whump-whump of helicopters. It was not too late. There was still time.
The gaijin approached, put his face close to Fumio's, and as Fumio watched helplessly, the gaijin put his hand up and tore his own flesh from his skull.
Fumio gagged as gobbets of flesh and tissue and hair were torn away. And then came the sudden realization as the deformed face underneath appeared. His bowels turned to liquid and he could smell his own reeking fear.
"Katsuda," he whispered.
The hideous head nodded.
Pieces of artificial flesh still adhered to it, and the effect was to give a leprous, rotting look to Katsuda's features.
It looked as if the real flesh was also peeling away. The man seemed to be decaying in front of him.
"Your executioner," said Katsuda.
Fumio smelled the liquid before it was poured on him, and instantly he knew how he was going to die.
The noise of the helicopters was now overwhelming, and a split second later two black shapes appeared overhead and black ropes snaked down from one.
Katsuda stood well back and a frogman handed him a short cylinder. A moment later, it burst into brilliant pink light.
The burning flare arced through the air toward the screaming, struggling Fumio.
* * * * *
A distinctive black shape blocked out Fitzduane's vision and then settled in the front garden, and once again he could see Fumio Namaka and Katsuda.
Fitzduane had lost a few seconds and was not quite sure what was going on. He had seen the eruption of frogmen and Fumio being seized, but then had lost continuity.
As Fumio and Katsuda reemerged, he saw a flash of a pink flare and then Fumio erupted into flame. He, the summer house, and the ground around him must have been saturated in something like high-octane gas or charcoal lighter fuel, because the explosion of flame was startlingly violent. A searing white flame shot into the sky, and within split seconds the thatch had caught and was burning with extraordinary ferocity.
"Al, take Katsuda now," said Fitzduane deliberately. "Chifune, focus on the frogmen. Fire at will."
Katsuda spread his arms and, fists clenched, shouted up into the sky to celebrate his triumph."
Now he was THE kuromaku.
Lonsdale took first pressure on the Barrett trigger. Katsuda already filled the reticule of his telescopic sight.
"Banzai! Banzai! Banzai!" Katsuda shouted, oblivious to the gun battle that had erupted between his frogmen and Fumio's terrorists, who had arrived too late to save their master.
Lonsdale gently squeezed the trigger. The .50 round, developed originally in World War I to destroy tanks, caught Katsuda in the upper torso and exploded, blowing his heart, rib cage, lungs, and spine into bloody fragments and the rest of his body into the flames where Fumio Namaka's body spat and flared in the vicious heat.
The two enemies burned together.
The first Huey landed in the largest clear space available, the front garden between the well and the blazing summer house.
The Huey had a nearly fifty-foot rotor diameter and the second helicopter made no attempt to touch down. Instead, it hovered about twenty feet up.
Four figures rappelled down ropes, and other terrorists remained in the cabin, shooting at targets of opportunity.
Chifune was firing rapidly.
Three frogmen had dropped in as many seconds, but then the survivors headed for cover and her rate of fire slowed as she sought out targets.
One frogman hunkered behind a man-height stone lantern carved from volcanic rock, but the .300 Magnum round cut effortlessly through it and through the man hiding on the other side.
A second man had made it to the pool and was under six inches of water when the round seared through the back of his skull.
In Chifune's opinion, the effectiveness of the airship operation was severely hindered by the agreed-upon restrictions of firepower, but the rules of the hunt were quite specific. They were over a densely populated city. Automatic-weapons fire, whether machine gun or grenade launcher, was out. The Spider had been adamant. It was a minor miracle the Barrett had not been prohibited, too. The .50 round could penetrate brick, stone, or plate steel and had been known to cut through six wooden houses. A loose round could take out a complete sushi bar counter and give a whole new meaning to the term ‘friendly fire.’
Fitzduane assessed the situation below. It was getting time to hand over to the Spider and his people. The airship had limited objectives. It was a superb observation platform and had given them the crucial element of surprise, but now it was only a matter of time before someone looked up. That would not have mattered before the helicopters arrived on the scene, but now the situation could get unhealthy.
The airship could do just over seventy miles an hour if wind conditions were favorable. The Huey was rated at around a hundred and thirty. True, the rates of climb under power were around the same, with the airship, ironically, having a slight edge, but when it came to maneuverability, there was no comparison. The Huey won hands down. The issue of which aircraft presented the better target scarcely bore contemplation. It was nearly time to bug out.
"Spider-san" said Fitzduane. His mind was on protocol.
The Deputy Superintendent-General and his attendant staff looked at the loudspeaker in his mobile command vehicle
in a state of shock.
"Gaijin" he muttered under his breath. "What do foreign barbarians know about good manners!" His staff looked at each other with smiles of relief. The Spider had just defused a potentially serious case of loss of face. Honor was restored.
The Spider keyed the microphone. "Fitzduane-san," he said in acknowledgment.
"We're going to try and take out the helicopter on the ground," said Fitzduane, "and then we're getting the hell out of here. Engaging the second Huey is too dangerous unless you want central Tokyo shot up. I just hope the other side feels the same way."
"Affirmative," said the Spider. "We'll move in thirty seconds." He gave the orders, and the inner ring of armed riot police spearheaded by armored cars roared toward the Hodama residence.
"Al, go for the engine and fuel tanks of the grounded Huey," said Fitzduane. "Chifune, try for the pilot. I don't want that bird flying."
Lonsdale knew that the .50 could pierce the Huey with ease, but it was another matter of hitting a vital spot. He focused on the turbine engine under the rotor and methodically fired five rounds. He was certain he had hit, but the explosive armor-piercing ammunition seemed to have no effect. With horror, he saw the helicopter begin to lift off, and fired until his magazine was empty.
Beside him, Chifune rapid-fired an entire magazine of .300 Magnum at the pilot.
The Huey rose about fifteen feet, then half-rolled and smashed into the still-burning summer house. Seconds later, there was a series of explosions as the fuel tanks, ignited by the exploding .50 and the surrounding flames, blew up.
The leading police armored car smashed through into the locked double gates and rolled forward, its machine gun chattering.
More armored cars moved in and gave covering fire, while en entry team of kidotai in helmets and body armor moved in on foot.
Fitzduane 02 - Rules of The Hunt Page 45
