The Samurai Inheritance

by James Douglas

  Jamie had smothered enough awkward clients in an avalanche of detail to know that his companion was using her argument to distract him from pursuing his hypotheses, which he found interesting. But not quite as interesting as the fact she’d never once questioned his nefarious use of a paper clip back at the Dragon Lady’s concrete mansion. Or that when she’d urged him to get the first flight home she hadn’t mentioned taking one herself.

  That was something that would bear thinking about.

  XXX

  Arkady Berzarin smiled as he settled into the back of the armoured Mercedes S-Class, one of a fleet of six from which to choose at random whenever he needed to travel. He’d decided on the big V12 because it was the preferred method of transport of various Middle East potentates who had tested its bomb- and bullet-proof qualities to the very limit. A second identical car started up behind them, and a third was already waiting at the gate to act as the point vehicle. He pressed the intercom linking him to the driver’s compartment.

  ‘Is everything arranged, Lev?’ He already knew the answer, but he’d learned over the years that it never did any harm to ask.

  ‘Sure, chief.’ The driver grinned. Lev had been with Berzarin for ten years and knew his boss’s habits better than any man on the protection detail. ‘We’ll have a motorcycle escort from the outskirts of Kras, but they’ll stop at the airport gates. Security know to let us through to the apron to wait for the plane to land. Andrei will walk down the steps and straight into the car.’

  ‘Good. Good.’ The billionaire nodded. He hadn’t seen his son for more than three months apart from the odd video conference, and he was frightened the boy was growing apart from him. The school in England looked after him well enough and he was doing well, but … Berzarin worried about the influence of that bitch of a second wife, though he’d never mention it to Andrei. They had three weeks together and he intended to spend every possible moment with his son and to hell with the aluminium industry for once. ‘Who’s in the lead car today?’

  The driver frowned, ticking off the security detail in his head. ‘Mikhail and the Bulgarian, Serov.’

  ‘Good,’ Berzarin repeated. ‘They know their business. Okay, let’s go.’

  They drove out of the underground garage into the sunlight, a low Siberian sunlight that could scorch your eyeballs if you weren’t careful. Lev plucked a pair of Ray-Bans from the dash, flipped the arms open and placed them expertly with one hand.

  ‘You want the sun visors down, boss?’

  ‘Since when could I get too much sun?’ Berzarin chuckled and the driver smiled. It was unusual to see the boss in such a cheerful mood these days. The boy would be good for him.

  The road wound across the tundra in tight loops, narrowing where it was flanked by concrete pillars that would slow any intruder who managed to get his car or truck beyond the gate. It was designed to give the house guards time to reach their defensive positions long before an attacker could get there. Lev had driven it a thousand times and took the corners smoothly. It was two miles from the house to the gate and he called ahead to make sure the guards were ready for them.

  In the back of the car Berzarin tried to study share movements in the metal and minerals industry on his personalized iPad, but found he couldn’t concentrate. He flicked to a weather website. It was a little late in the year, but maybe he could organize a fishing trip with Andrei up one of the tributaries of the Yenisei. Catching his first taimen with his old man would give them something to remember for a long time. One of the guiding companies had just started to use mini-hovercraft to get up into the headwaters, which would be something new for the boy. Yes, that’s what he would do. Of course he’d run it past Andrei first. You couldn’t dictate to a fourteen-year-old.

  His mind drifted back to the strange visit from the Englishman and his girlfriend. When he’d had time to consider, it seemed to him that fate had brought them to his house. They’d provided him with an opportunity that was unlikely to occur again and he had put things in motion to take advantage of it. He wondered if Andrei’s impending visit had influenced his decision, and decided it probably had.

  As they approached the gate Lev saw one of the security SUVs speed off down the road. He glanced in his mirror to check if the boss had noticed, but Berzarin was engrossed in his computer. With a mental shrug he decided they’d find out if there was some sort of problem soon enough.

  Up ahead, the guards watched the big black car approach. They held their machine pistols casually, the way a workman holds the tools he has wielded for half a lifetime, and their eyes were hidden behind the ubiquitous mirrored sunglasses. One of them, Yuri, the big ex Spetsnaz from Omsk, waved the car down and Lev lowered his window.

  ‘What’s up?’ the driver demanded. ‘The boss won’t want to be late for the kid.’

  ‘We had word of two men by the roadside a mile south of here. Probably just hikers, but Ivan and Vitaly are checking it out. It should only take a minute.’

  Lev scowled, but put the automatic to park and waited for the inevitable reaction. Arkady Berzarin heard the click and looked up from the fishing website he’d been studying. ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘Nothing, boss. Just security starting at shadows, but that’s their job, eh?’

  Berzarin grunted and sat back in his seat. ‘We’ll be late for Andrei,’ he growled after a few minutes passed. ‘Fuck shadows. Let’s go.’

  Lev looked up at the security man and shrugged, but Yuri shook his head. ‘It’s not worth taking a chance,’ he said quietly. ‘You can make up the time.’

  ‘Security says no, boss. Better to be safe—’

  ‘Who pays their fucking wages?’ Berzarin exploded. ‘I say when it’s fucking safe and when it’s not.’ He reached for the switch that lowered the window separating him from Yuri. The guard watched emotionlessly as the mirrored glass began to slide downwards, anticipating the blast from within.

  Lev frowned. ‘Boss, I …’

  Berzarin ignored his driver and glared at the guard. ‘Did you hear—’

  Yuri stood with his legs slightly apart and in a crouch so he could see into the rear compartment of the Mercedes. He held the AK-9 machine pistol at a thirty-degree angle, barrel downwards and with his right hand on the butt, and his left gripping the black plastic stock just behind the barrel. It was the work of a millisecond to twitch the barrel upwards and bring his finger to the trigger in the same movement. Berzarin saw the muzzle come up and fell backwards with a cry of terror, raising his hands in a futile attempt to fend off the stream of bullets that was about to erupt from the black tunnel. Yuri had loaded the AK-9 with armour-piercing rounds and they shredded the Kevlar vest Berzarin put so much faith in with the same efficiency they shredded the raised hands. By the time he took the pressure from the trigger Berzarin was already dead, but Yuri was nothing if not professional and he fired the last four rounds into the former oligarch’s head even as the bullets of his comrades smashed him sideways away from the car window.

  As he lay on the ground the cries of the guards faded and all he could hear was the tick-tick-tick of a cooling engine and what his dying mind believed was the soft murmur of the Siberian wind, but in reality was the sound of his last breath.

  XXXI

  ‘So, in a nutshell, she has the head and I don’t think she’ll willingly part with it,’ Jamie explained warily.

  ‘But she wanted to know your client’s identity?’ Keith Devlin sounded outraged.

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘I hope you bloody well didn’t tell her.’

  ‘Of course I didn’t.’

  ‘And you’re certain she’s Yakuza? From what I hear they don’t go in much for women bosses.’

  Jamie shrugged. ‘She as good as admitted it. I got the feeling she was proud of the fact.’

  There was a long silence at the end of the phone and Jamie had a feeling he’d been put on hold while the other man discussed the situation with a third party. Eventually, Devlin cam
e back on the line.

  ‘All right, son. This is where we’re at. Time’s getting short due to some factors of which you’re not aware. We need the head now, and you’re gonna get it. It’s time to go the extra mile.’ Jamie felt the breath catch in his chest and he couldn’t have spoken even if he’d known what to say. ‘So you’re going to go right back in there and fetch that little treasure back for your Uncle Keith.’

  ‘And get myself killed?’

  ‘C’mon, Jamie mate,’ Devlin sounded positively jovial, ‘you’re a player. You’ve done this kind of stuff before. You can do it now. Besides, son, you’ve never had a better incentive.’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘Well, those girls of yours, they’re gonna be rooting for you for a start.’

  An image of Fiona and Lizzie locked in a cell at some remote mining complex in the Australian bush filled Jamie’s head and he felt a thrill of panic. ‘What have you done to them?’

  ‘Nothing at all, son,’ Devlin assured him, but the words not yet were there by implication. ‘They’re being well looked after. We’re on a little exotic holiday just like we planned from the start.’

  Jamie heard a muffled squeal in the background and thought he recognized Fiona’s voice.

  ‘Let me talk to them.’

  ‘Tell me you’ll think about it first.’

  ‘All right, I’ll think about it. Just let me talk to Fiona.’

  ‘Jamie?’

  ‘Yes, darling, it’s me. Are you and Lizzie okay?’

  He heard her take a deep breath. ‘Yes, we’re being treated well enough. He said we were going to the Gold Coast, but we’re on some kind of tropical island. It’s horrid, the whole place stinks and there are men with guns.’

  ‘Where—’

  ‘I think that’ll do for now, son.’ Devlin’s voice returned to the phone. ‘Your girls are just fine and I’ll make sure they stay that way as long as you cooperate. The guns are for their protection, and as long as I’m with them we’ll be fine.’

  Jamie tried without success to keep his voice anger free. ‘All right, Devlin, what do you want me to do?’

  ‘Just exactly what’s in your contract, Jamie. You find the head and you bring it to me.’

  ‘What if I can’t get it? What if …?’

  The Australian lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘If I read your obituary in the Tokyo Times your little lady and her lovely daughter will be flown back to Oz none the worse for their holiday. Likewise, if you end up in a Jap jail. All I want to know is that you’ve given it your best shot, son.’

  ‘And if by some miracle I do get the bloody thing, what then?’

  He could almost see Devlin’s grin. ‘When you get the Bougainville head, all you have to do is let me know and I’ll make sure you get to where you need to be. Are you still there?’

  ‘Yes, I’m still here. And Devlin …’

  ‘Yes, mate.’

  ‘Just so we know exactly where we are, if you harm a hair on either of their heads I will hunt you down and I will kill you. Do we understand each other?’

  Devlin’s mocking laughter echoed in the earpiece. ‘You just bring me the head, son, and we’re quits. I might even forget what you just said.’

  The phone went dead in his hand.

  He looked up to find Magda Ross staring at him. ‘What’s going on, Jamie?’ she demanded.

  ‘It seems my esteemed client is in more need of the head than I’d realized.’ He explained what Fiona had said about a tropical island and armed guards.

  ‘You mean he’s holding them hostage? That’s unbelievable.’

  ‘Unfortunately it’s not. I think Devlin means exactly what he says and he’s not the kind of man to let morality get in the way of his objectives.’

  ‘You should call the police,’ she said, but without any conviction.

  Jamie nodded distractedly. It was the logical thing to do, but he had a feeling Keith Devlin would have planned for that contingency. It was too big a risk. Instead, he said: ‘I think it’s time we did some late-night shopping.’

  Platinum Street – Gaien-Nishi-dori – lived up to its name and Jamie’s Presbyterian instincts winced at the amounts he shelled out as he ticked off the mental check-list in his head. Small black rucksack from some Italian designer fashion house – seventy thousand yen. Tight-fitting leather jacket in black, with zipped internal hood, Hugo Boss – ninety thousand yen. Jeans, black. Cashmere roll-neck, black. Sport shoes, black. Still, he rationalized, it would all go on Keith Devlin’s expenses bill, and if not, the Princess Czartoryski Foundation’s little windfall would tide him over.

  ‘When you said we should do some shopping, I actually thought you meant we not you. Why this sudden interest in dressing like James Dean? Couldn’t you have waited till we got back to the hotel to change?’

  As he’d shopped, Jamie had exchanged each item for a piece of clothing he was already wearing so he’d gradually metamorphosed into something approaching a silhouette of his former self. It was only when they exchanged the designer shops for a hardware outlet that realization dawned. She shook her head as he added a head-torch, a hammer, a large pair of pliers, pepper spray and fifteen metres of climbing rope to the contents of the rucksack.

  ‘Are you crazy?’ she whispered. ‘You have no idea what kind of security they have in those woods. You’ll get yourself killed.’ The thought had already occurred to Jamie, which was why he’d discarded his original plan of buying a black ski mask on the grounds he was less likely to get shot if someone could see the terror on his face. ‘And even if you get there,’ she added unnecessarily, ‘do you really think the Dragon Lady is going to let you walk into her house?’

  ‘No, I don’t. All I know for certain is that I have to try, and there’s only one way to find out.’

  ‘You look far too wholesome to be a burglar.’ She gave him a shrewd look. ‘Do you have any experience of breaking and entering?’

  He considered for a moment, remembering the intimidating darkness of Himmler’s Hall of the Generals at Wewelsburg Castle, the snarling hounds in the long grass outside Max Dornberger’s mansion and the unique terror of having a gun barrel pressed against his forehead at a Teutonic castle in the Sierra Nevada Mountains. In retrospect, none of those episodes had turned out quite the way he’d intended. ‘A little,’ he admitted eventually. ‘But it’s not something I do every day.’

  ‘Then you’re going to need all the help you can get.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ he said suspiciously.

  ‘I mean I’m coming with you.’ There was no arguing with Magda Ross when she’d made her decision. She walked back into the store and returned moments later with an oblong box from a multicoloured stand by the door. Jamie nodded appreciatively as he saw what she’d bought.

  He pushed the box into the rucksack and they set off for the complex. A road flanked much of the walls, with buildings on the opposite side. He chose an area that hopefully shielded him from any security cameras covering this part of the wall.

  ‘All right, tell me what you had in mind for these?’ He reached into the rucksack and brought out the multicoloured box Magda had bought in the hardware store.

  ‘If you’re going in there, you’re going to need some sort of diversion.’ Magda kept her voice low. ‘I’ll find a way to the opposite side of the complex – somewhere close to a camera – and set these off at intervals along the wall.’ Jamie opened his mouth to protest that she’d be deliberately putting herself in the firing line, but she continued: ‘I’ll be safe enough. The best chance you have is if the people watching screens up at the Dragon Lady’s concrete palace are looking the other way when you go in.’

  ‘All right,’ Jamie agreed reluctantly. ‘But don’t take any more chances than are absolutely necessary.’

  She didn’t reply, but gave him a look that reminded him who was about to put their head into the lion’s mouth.

  He tore open the box to reveal a string of firec
rackers, four or five rockets and a range of anonymous tubes with bright starbursts on the side. ‘There should be enough here to keep them interested for at least half an hour if you play it right, but for God’s sake don’t start any fires. Most of the houses around here are made of wood and I don’t want to burn down half the bloody city.’ He kissed her on the cheek and she reacted with a rueful smile. ‘I won’t move until I see the first rocket or hear the first bang. Don’t rush it. Don’t cut any corners. Go right to the far side of the complex before you start anything. We’ll meet up back at that twenty-four-hour coffee shop we passed. Okay?’

  Magda nodded and Jamie watched her jog off down the street. When she was out of sight he closed his eyes and leaned against the wall of the building. One more thing to worry about. How in the name of Christ did he keep getting himself into these things? He studied the wall on the far side of the road. At seven foot high he’d have no problem clearing it but he could see no sign of the usual refinements that protected the homes of the rich, the famous or the criminally inclined. And that was a puzzle in itself. Yes, they had the security cameras at the gate, but where was the electrified wire that would turn the wall into a formidable and – depending on the voltage – potentially lethal barrier? The wall itself ran in a long curve, which ruled out any laser or ultrasonic beams. Maybe Madam Nishimura didn’t want to advertise her presence by living in a fortress, but the Dragon Lady was a major player in a, quite literally, cut-throat business, and she hadn’t become that by being careless with her security. No, there must be something else. The wall was the first line of defence, therefore its purpose was not to deter, but to detect. So, some kind of pressure pad running round the top, or just inside the wall where an intruder would drop when he slipped across. A problem. But not an insurmountable one. All he needed was to find the right tree.