The Severance Trilogy Box Set

by Mark McKay

  The day’s training was more leisurely than usual, given the collective hangover. Oyama and Mashida were remarkably fresh exceptions it seemed, they demonstrated technique with their usual flair. This week there would be an emphasis on swordsmanship, including useful tips on how to take a sword away from an attacker when you were facing him unarmed. Done incorrectly, you were very likely to lose either a hand or a head, so in order to forestall such an outcome the swords were made of wood. They still hurt like hell if you were struck by one, however.

  After the day’s training had finished, Nick knew he’d have no problem sleeping that evening. He had a leisurely dinner and then around 8pm he called Yvonne, in London. It would be midday there and she should be at her desk. When she answered, he asked her to get either Flynn or Halloran to call him.

  ‘Preferably in the next three hours,’ he said. ‘I’ll be asleep after that.’

  ‘I thought you were on holiday,’ said Yvonne, a hint of admonition in her voice.

  ‘I am. That’s why I don’t have their number. Just something I want to share, that’s all.’

  ‘Yes, I’ll pass it on, then. There’s been no progress their end, not that I know about, anyhow.’

  He ended the call, wondering if he should call Kate while he waited, he still had her card. He decided to do it tomorrow, by then he would have thought of a convincing cover story about how they knew each other. In fact he could give it some thought now, while he waited for Special Branch to get back to him.

  It was Halloran who called. The blunt pragmatism he’d shown at their earlier meeting almost yielded to something resembling enthusiasm when Nick brought him up to date with events in Japan. He agreed with Nick about leaving the lions in situ for the moment and admitted that Special Branch were scratching for leads.

  ‘We’re still trying to find out which ship they left Chennai on. That’s the only lead we have. Now, let me have this account number.’

  ‘There is a condition attached,’ said Nick. ‘You upgrade me, from consultant to active investigator. I want to be in the loop on this, every step of the way. If you trace this account, or if a transfer is made in or out of it, I want to know.’

  Halloran’s tone hardened. ‘We could just charge you with withholding evidence in a terrorist investigation. How does that sound?’

  ‘Yes or no?’

  Silence. Then Halloran conceded. ‘Alright. Once we start monitoring the account, we’ll put you on the alert list. When we see something happen, you’ll see it too. Satisfied?’

  ‘Yes.’ He quoted the account details. Twice. ‘Got it?’

  ‘I think so. A word of advice, DCI Severance. Don’t start taking this investigation personally, you’ll make mistakes. The kind that are career limiting.’

  ‘Thanks for your concern. I’ll be back in London next week and I’ll call you for an update then. If anything happens in the meantime, you know where I am.’

  The rest of the week was devoted to Aikido, which was after all the whole point of coming here in the first place. The intensity and the pace picked up. He found he wasn’t thinking so much as simply responding to whatever attack was thrown at him. Everyone else was doing the same, which made the sessions fast and fluid. By Friday, he was even able to take the sword away from the attacker nine times out of ten. His martial arts skills had cranked up a notch.

  Oyama was away in Tokyo that day, arranging an export licence for the swords. He’d acquired a new lease of life and had announced that he intended to start making swords again, in England. Nick thought Mashida must have promised some financial help in making this happen and was delighted for Oyama. If what Kate had said about his reputation was true, buyers would queue up for the privilege of owning an Oyama sword. He just hoped Oyama would continue to teach Aikido, as well.

  He’d tried to contact Kate Suzuki two or three times, now. When he tried Sotheby’s he was told that she was working from home, and when he tried her mobile number he got voice mail. She obviously wasn’t speaking to him. Perhaps he would have a chance to call around on the Sunday when they went back to Tokyo, just prior to flying home. He didn’t like leaving without setting the record straight, as it were.

  A farewell meal had been planned for the Saturday evening, at the same restaurant. They were all seated much as before, with Nick once again between Mariko and Yoshi Mashida. Tomorrow’s flight was an evening one and there was no training to think about, so they could all happily indulge themselves with too much food and drink. After a few beers, Nick abandoned his respect for Japanese privacy and asked Mashida the question he’d been pondering since they first met.

  ‘Sensei, you never told me what it is you actually do, when you’re not teaching Aikido.’

  Mashida smiled. ‘I’m a private investigator, a bit like you.’ The drink had made him jovial, but the cool and calculating eyes were as clear as ever. ‘I suppose you could say I help people solve problems.’

  Nick looked at the inscrutable Japanese face next to him. ‘Is there any point in asking you to elaborate?’

  ‘Not right now,’ said Mashida. He seemed to consider something for a moment. ‘You have been a great help to both Katsu and myself. You gave us an opportunity to put Yamada into a position he would rather not be in. Let me just say, should you need any assistance with anything in the future, I will be pleased to help out.’

  ‘What sort of thing?’

  ‘You’ll know when it happens. If for instance your bank account number leads you nowhere, I may be able to make enquiries on your behalf.’

  ‘I see. Thank you, I’ll remember.’ Mashida was certainly enigmatic and obviously wanted to stay that way for the moment. He had access to resources at short notice though, the two armed and capable-looking men he’d brought along to Yamada’s party were testament to that. Perhaps when they got back to London he might get more information on Yoshi Mashida from Oyama. It could wait until then. The restaurant proprietor appeared and whispered something to Mashida.

  ‘Excuse me,’ he said. ‘Phone call.’

  ‘I hope you enjoyed yourself here,’ said Mariko, as they watched her father walk away. She’d been quiet so far this evening and had resisted various efforts to refill her beer glass. She seemed preoccupied.

  ‘Yes, it was quite an experience. I hope we poor students from England didn’t disappoint you.’

  ‘Not at all,’ she replied, with the shadow of a smile. ‘In fact, my father thinks you, personally, have some potential. If you keep working at it of course.’

  That was a surprise. ‘I’ll bear that in mind.’

  ‘Don’t tell him I mentioned it, please.’

  ‘I won’t.’

  Mashida was on his way back now and his face wasn’t a pleasant sight. Nick felt a stab of alarm. Mashida exchanged a look with Oyama and then stopped by Nick’s chair.

  ‘Come outside for a moment,’ he said.

  Nick did as he was asked. The restaurant was down one end of the main street. It was dark and quiet out here and the area was deserted.

  ‘Were you able to speak to your woman friend from Sotheby’s?’ asked Mashida.

  ‘No, I tried her a few times. They said she was working from home, but she didn’t answer her mobile phone.’

  Mashida looked grim. ‘I just spoke to someone in Tokyo. Your friend Kate Suzuki was found dead, an hour ago.’

  ‘Found dead?’ He was dumbfounded. ‘What happened?’

  ‘It seems someone held her in the house for a day or two. Tied her up, tortured her, and then finally killed her by cutting off her head.’

  Nick was speechless. He tried to speak, but nothing came out.

  ‘It’s not hard to imagine who might be responsible,’ Mashida continued. ‘This man has a long reach, Nick. Even as far as London, so take precautions when you get back.’

  Nick nodded, still lost for words. This was his fault, he knew it. Mashida read his mind.

  ‘Don’t blame yourself. If anything, the blame lies with me. I sho
uld have predicted this kind of action.’

  A car was approaching. The lights flashed and Mashida raised his hand. It stopped next to him. Inside, Nick could see the two men who’d been with them at Yamada’s, and two new faces.

  ‘Tonight, these men will station themselves outside each lodge and my house,’ said Mashida. ‘Then on Sunday, you will all go to the airport and fly home.’

  ‘OK.’ He was beginning to feel nauseous. His clever idea to use Kate as a way in to Yamada’s estate had got her killed. No matter what Mashida said, he knew that the responsibility for her death lay with him. He felt a rush of anger and remembered Halloran’s words of advice, exhorting him not to take the case personally. It was too late for that, the news Mashida had just delivered made it very personal. Kate was dead on his watch and he was obliged now to do something about it. He would make damn sure he honoured that obligation.

  There was some consternation among the other students when they found out they had babysitters for the night.

  ‘What have we done to deserve this?’ asked Rory, when they got back to the lodge. Their bodyguard had found himself a chair and positioned it just inside the front door. He’d brought some magazines, which he placed on a small table next to the chair. He took out a handgun from his shoulder holster and put it on the table, within easy reach. The final touch was a reading lamp, which meant the hall light could be left off while he maintained his vigil.

  ‘Can’t really explain,’ said Nick. ‘Mashida just wants to make sure the place is secure tonight, that’s all I know.’

  Rory wasn’t buying it, but he kept quiet. They’d all seen the look on Nick’s face when he and Mashida re-joined them in the restaurant, earlier. Nick had been somewhat withdrawn for the rest of the evening, as had Mashida. It was clear something unpleasant had happened.

  ‘Fine,’ said Rory. ‘I’m off to bed.’

  Nick nodded to the man on the door. He hadn’t spoken a word since arriving. He was either the strong and silent type or he spoke no English. He was casually dressed in loose fitting black trousers and a black t-shirt, with a matching cotton jacket. All designed for concealment and maximum ease of movement, Nick supposed. Somewhere in his thirties, he was thickly built and radiated a quiet confidence. He nodded back politely, but the face remained impassive.

  Nick walked down the hall and went into his room. He lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling, thinking about Kate. Images of Yamada’s party swam through his mind, and he recalled the scent of her perfume. She had stood right next to him on the terrace, warm and alive and completely unaware of the danger she would soon be in. After a while her image began to blur and shift and then faded into nothingness as his mind drifted away, sinking into the guiltless solitude of sleep.

  He had a last audience with Mashida before leaving for the airport. They sat with Mariko around the low table in the living room. Mariko carefully poured the tea and then offered it to each man in turn, both hands outstretched. It was only after they had all taken a first sip that the ritual silence could be broken.

  ‘Can you be sure the golden lions won’t go anywhere?’ asked Nick.

  ‘The estate is being watched,’ said Mashida. ‘Yamada may try to get them away from the house. If they are found somewhere else, that will be less incriminating. But whatever happens, we will keep track of them.’

  ‘Thank you. If you need to get in touch with me, here’s my card.’

  Mashida took it. ‘Do you have another?’ Nick found a second card, which Mashida passed to Mariko.

  ‘My daughter wants to visit London. I’m sure she will call you when she does.’

  Mariko bowed slightly, smiling. ‘Perhaps your wife will show me around.’

  Nick laughed. ‘She’s not my wife - yet. But yes, let me know in advance. You can stay with us.’

  The talk turned to Aikido, with Mashida emphasising some of the points he wanted Nick and the rest of the British contingent to keep in mind on their return to London. From his perspective, the retreat had gone well. Then he said something puzzling.

  ‘Tell Katsu from me, that he should teach you the ki exercises when you get back.’ Ki was the Japanese word for internal, or spiritual, energy.

  ‘What do you mean? Doesn’t everything we do in Aikido use ki?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ said Mashida. ‘This uses the same energy, just in a different way. Katsu will explain’. He seemed reluctant to say more on the subject.

  ‘Alright, I will.’

  Half an hour later, the taxis arrived. Nick said his farewells and joined Oyama and the rest of his team. Mashida and Mariko lined up with the four Japanese students to wave them off. The four bodyguards were nowhere to be seen.

  ‘Like bloody ghosts,’ said Rory. ‘Bet they’re still around here somewhere.’

  They were, at least two of them were. When the taxis pulled out on to the main road, they were followed to the station. The two men stayed with them, albeit at a discreet distance, until they went through to boarding at Narita airport. Everyone else in Nick’s party seemed blissfully unaware of them, which he found a little unsettling. They’d gone now. Perhaps they were nothing but bloody ghosts, after all.

  Chapter 16

  Lauren had painted the second bedroom in a light shade of green on the walls, with a deep orange ceiling. She was noticeably pregnant now.

  ‘Green is serene,’ she explained. ‘And orange is comfortable. To match the baby’s temperament.’

  He must have looked doubtful.

  ‘I talked to a colour psychologist,’ she continued. ‘All scientifically proven, of course.’

  ‘Maybe we should move in for the duration and test it out.’

  She had taken one week off work in the time he’d been away. Her hearing had returned and she was looking a lot more relaxed, now. The experience of nearly being blown to bits hadn’t affected her pregnancy, as far as medical science could tell.

  He had texted her on occasion while he was in Japan, but had mentioned nothing about his extra-curricular activities. They had planned a quiet evening at the flat tonight, all he wanted to do was spend time with her and tell her about the training and his impressions of what little he’d seen of the country. He went out to the supermarket and returned with ingredients for a lamb and fennel dish, served with tagliatelle. While he prepared everything she perched on a stool in the kitchen, listening and topping up his wine glass.

  ‘Slow down,’ he said. ‘You’re not drinking and if you keep doing that, I’ll finish the bottle in no time.’

  ‘Just trying to get you drunk.’

  He thought fleetingly of Jenna. He hoped she’d woken up and gotten out of Yamada’s bedroom safely. Another thing he should have checked on. His face must have betrayed his concern.

  ‘What aren’t you telling me?’’

  ‘Let’s eat first.’

  ‘No, tell me now.’

  He sighed. By the time he’d ended his account of the party and its murderous aftermath, they were halfway through the meal.

  ‘This billionaire, what’s his name? He murdered her?’

  ‘Yamada. We have no proof. He probably got someone to do it for him.’

  He had omitted the details of Kate’s death, plus the fact that Yamada might well be gunning for him, next.

  ‘This is confidential, remember that,’ he said.

  ‘Don’t worry. It’s not exactly riveting gossip material. I’ll keep quiet.’

  ‘Enough about Japan, then. Tell me what you’ve been up to, apart from talking to colour psychologists.’

  ‘Just business as usual. Well, now that we’ve been relocated.’

  The two banks at Canary Wharf had been declared unsafe structures, so Lauren had moved to another site close by. Security in the area had been stepped up. Additional CCTV cameras had been installed and there were vehicle checkpoints in operation. The Docklands financial district was locked down with a ‘ring of steel’, in a replica of the security measures already in use in the
Square Mile of the City of London.

  ‘We’re all putting on a brave face,’ said Lauren. ‘But people are jumpy and bad tempered. And some of the people I used to work with just aren’t there anymore. It’s horrible.’ Her mood had suddenly shifted. She put down her knife and fork, looking distressed and deflated. ‘You will find the people who did this, won’t you, Nick?’

  ‘We’ll find them.’

  ‘Let’s talk about something else.’

  They finished the evening by streaming a movie. It was a romantic comedy, with no scenes of people shooting each other or buildings exploding. It succeeded in diverting their thoughts from the all too real violence closer to home.

  ‘You haven’t mentioned my bulge,’ said Lauren, when the movie was over.

  ‘Very cute. How does it feel?’

  She smiled. ‘Find out for yourself.’

  He put his hand on her. ‘Feels warm, nice and round.’ He moved his hand in a rhythmic, circular caress. ‘Definitely sexy.’

  She closed her eyes. ‘Oh yes, the pregnant woman fetish. I forgot.’

  ‘I haven’t seen you for two weeks. I think we should have an early night, don’t you?’

  ‘Maybe you should wash up, first.’

  He took her to the bedroom. The dishes could wait till morning.

  When Nick returned to Bishopsgate the next day DCI Simms was on hand to brief him on progress in his absence.

  ‘They’ve identified the ship, at last,’ said Simms. ‘Or they think they have. At Chennai there was some camera footage of Rebecca Slade in a Mercedes, coming through the port entrance checkpoint. From where the Mercedes parked on the dock they’re surmising that the ship berthed closest to it is the one we’re after.’

  ‘It took them all this time to get the camera footage?’

  Simms shrugged. ‘It’s the “Persian Star”, apparently. The captain gave Denmark as his next destination. Copenhagen, to be precise.’

  ‘What about Crete, was that mentioned?’

  ‘Not as a destination, but it’s on the way. And the “Persian Star” made a stop there that tallies with the period Ms Slade jumped ship.’