I turned to look at the remains of the beautiful little cottage and a cold shock held me frozen to the spot. Jolts of pure terror held me in it‘s powerful grip, forcing me to my knees as I took in the destruction. A pile of fire-blackened rubble lay on the ground where the cottage once stood. Slow dying flames created a macabre scene. I heard someone let out a strangled moan, blushing beat red as I realized that sound had escaped my own lips. Then the haunting screams dragged me back down to the insanity of my nightmare.
Fight! Damn you! Fight it. Sara’s voice, cutting like a knife through the terror and the flashbacks. If you don’t get free, they’ll kill everyone you ever had contact with. Terri! Get off your ass and do something about this! Don’t let me have died for nothing!
Fight she’d said. Slowly, I began to force the terror from my mind. The best weapon for clearing out the fear was anger. Fury boiled my blood and an angry fire replaced any other thoughts. How dare someone destroy something so beautiful! My mind raged. “Someone is going to bleed for this.” I growled. Nogura walked over and placed a hand on my shoulder, breaking me out of the rage building inside of me. Looking over at him, I noticed something. His shirt was torn and through it, a piece of elaborate tattooing was visible. The pieces finally clicked together, the missing finger, the tattoo, his information sources. The connection made, I turned away from him to hide my discovery. “When will they be here?” I asked.
He stared at the ruined cottage, “Ten minutes. Then another twenty to the airport.” He looked at me. “Customs will be no problem as everything is arranged. You’ve done this before, so I don’t need to tell you anything new… except do not trust anyone.” His eyes traveled down to my chest and, following the line of sight, I groaned. The shirt had torn as I went through the shoji screen. The dog brand was glaringly evident. He never said a word, but politely turned his back, allowing me time to pull on a new T-shirt from my pack and put it on.
I dusted off my clothes, pulling off the eye patch to wipe the dirt off the eyelid and lashes. “I hear you. The only person over there who actually knew of my involvement in the explosion at the O-Bon was my dad. And he sounded more interested in the pictures than my health…” My head snapped up as the full impact of my own words hit home, followed by Nogura’s identical reaction. I guess the clue bat hit us both at the same time.
“He called you?” I nodded. He snarled something foul under his breath.
I shook my head, put my face in my hands and crouched near the ground. ”How could I have been so deplorably ignorant. He had me on the phone long enough to trace the cell phone call. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!” My mind said worse things to me. “The problem is, I can’t prove he sent those guys here. I don‘t even know if he‘s involved in this.” Standing, I shook my head, then sighed. “I pray he isn’t.” Making eye contact with Nogura, my eyebrow arched at him, “And when this is all over, I’ll explain the brand. But not now. One thing at a time.”
About that time, a car pulled up at the edge of the property and a pair of intense looking men leaped out, keeping the doors open. Nogura gave directions as he climbed in the back with me following him in. “I don’t know what this is about, Terri, except the explosion itself killed my daughter and Cosar Mentari. You do know they buried him two days ago in the family tomb in Seattle, right?”
I’d read the brief in an international copy of the news. “Yeah, and good riddance. I’m finding this mess way over my head and I don’t like it.” The eye patch went back on after a couple adjustments. “Any helpful advice besides the usual would be nice at this point.” My eye took in the countryside as it flew past, hoping at least some direction could be forthcoming from somewhere.
He placed his hand on mine. “Trust in this. If you find yourself in need of help,” I knew he didn’t mean moving furniture around the houseboat, “You go to Japantown. Find a tattoo artist named Joey Shin and hand him this.” He held out a business card bearing a dragon with cherry blossoms lying on his scales. “Tell him that you would like this tattoo, but need to make sure it’s a one of a kind. He’ll know what to do,” he winked.
I chuckled and tucked the card in my backpack, in a safe and un-noticed spot. “Only if you’re paying for the tattoo will I get one, Father. Don’t get me wrong, I like them, but at this point, I don’t need anything else to identify me to the bad guys. Having one eye is already going to raise a few eyebrows.”
He nodded. “I can understand that. Besides, I’d get one of the masters of the art here to do that if you were really eager. I wouldn’t want to trust you to anyone else.”
Sighing, I leaned back into the seat to relax and ready myself for the flight home. Home. It used to mean my houseboat in a Seattle marina. Somehow, this place, in a short span of time, had grown on me. The people of Kamakura had taken me in and accepted me as one of their own. Now I had to leave because someone wanted the pictures in my pack and were willing to go to extremes to get them. Including trying to turn me into a splotch of blood in the middle of Nogura’s cottage. The thought of leaving brought with it a wisp of homesickness as the scenery flew past the tinted window.
Looking at the ocean as the waves washed up against the rocks, a thought occurred to me. “Tell me what to expect at the airport.” I needed a distraction from even thinking about how close to death we both had come.
Nogura glanced at me. “Basics, then I’ll escort you to my private jet. It’ll be a comfortable eight hour flight to Seattle. I just wish I could do more.”
“You’ve done enough, Father. In doing so, you’ve probably put your own life on the line.” I looked over at him. “Because anyone who had a hand in developing that film, may know what they’re after.”
He blinked. “Deductive reasoning?” he asked. I had surprised him. Good.
“Cop training, Dad may be a bigoted asshole at times, but he taught me a lot about police procedure and defending myself. Combined with all the inter-precinct politics, I’m pretty well experienced in this sort of thing.” My dad taught me well, I thought. And I hated him for it.
Something must have shown on my face because Nogura looked concerned. “Are you okay?”
“Fine. Just thinking too much about my birth father and how much I’m beginning to hate him. You’ve been a better father to me in this past month than he ever was in my lifetime.”
He looked slightly embarrassed, “I will take that as a compliment.”
Anything else he was planning to say remained unsaid. We had arrived at the airport. I was very grateful to have Ashi Nogura there to smooth any ruffled feathers. It’s not everyday someone shows up at the airport looking filthy and slightly toasted around the edges. If it had been just me with only a backpack, they’d probably have carted me off to jail. However, with the President of AshiCorp escorting me, we made it through customs in record time, much to my immense relief. Once inside Nogura’s hangar, his sleek bird looked like it could take control of the skies, only the constraints of gravity and power kept it from doing so. It reminded me of a crane, complete with red stripe on the top for the crest and the white body.
Before boarding the plane, I bowed. A very formal bow meant to convey great honor to one above me in social status. “I thank you, Ashi-sama, for the assistance and honor you have shown me during my stay here in your country. If I could ever repay you, you have but to call.”
His deep chuckle echoed throughout the hangar as he bowed to me. “You’re going to inflate my ego,” he said in English, “now get on that plane. You’ll find a new change of clothes and a different eye patch to replace what you have on now.” I looked up to see his eyes sparkling. “No need for the samurai to appear before the enemy clothed in rags. You must wear the armor that is fit to throw them off balance.”
That made me grin as I made my way into the plane. “Trust you to start hinting at samurai strategy just before I go to face the demons in their own lair. I meant it, you know, when I said that you were more of a father than my real one. I’m kind of envious that
Sara enjoyed growing up around you.”
Before the door locked, I heard a soft. “Me too, Terri, me too.”
Chapter Eight
>Eight hours and a good nap later, the jet descended into SeaTac airport. Time enough for a quick shower and change into clean clothes from the skin out. Pausing to look at the circle scar in the mirror, I worked an ointment into the flesh before getting into a black t-shirt underneath a crimson flannel shirt. The resulting heat allowed me to use the still sore shoulder to its full range of mobility. A pair of black jeans and a set of steel-toed hiking boots completed my outfit. The new eye patch looked like the old one, with one exception. A copper colored dragon with one green eye had been embroidered onto it‘s surface. I had to smile as I placed it over my left eye. It made the thought of a rather nasty reception a little easier to bear. I also took the time don the medallion. Maybe just the fact of receiving a little, shall we say, otherworldly assistance, made it feel right. Mentally I prayed that someone would help me with this whole mess and not get me killed.
Finally, the plane rolled to a gentle stop. Glancing out the window, I groaned in frustration. Two cars, both very familiar to me. Dad’s police cruiser sat next to the limousine owned by Cosar’s father, Stephen Mentari of the Mentari Dynasty. Very old money. “Great… just fucking great, I expected Dad, but to face Mentari, Sr. as well, this will be interesting.” My day just got better and better.
The pilot, a non-descript Japanese man in his early thirties, came into the cabin to open the door and let the steps down. The late afternoon breeze wafted into the cabin and smelled of fresh snow, salt air, along with a hint of rain. It wrapped itself around me, as if the city itself had come to welcome me back into it’s arms, making me smile slightly. Maybe, just maybe, I could get through this first meeting without too much hassle. Just to be on the safe side, I stashed the photos inside a pouch down the front of my jeans. If they wanted to frisk me, they’d have to deal with me screaming bloody murder about sexual harassment and molestation. Just the thought made me grin like a feral wolf. The idea had merits. Still grinning, I grabbed my bag and stepped down out of the plane, thanking the pilot in Japanese. He smiled and bowed to me, as his eyes flicked a glance over my shoulder. I made a small hand motion, getting the pilot back into the plane for the trip back to Japan, then turned to face the two men topping the list of possible people responsible for the bombs. I had no proof whatsoever, but if calling in every marker and favor in my black book would get me the results, then so be it. Justice would be found for those who were killed just because of some stinking photos.
I stretched slightly to get the kinks out of my body, covertly watching the two men approach, shouldering my duffle bag as they got within speaking distance. Paul Montegard, my dad, led the way towards the plane. He build reminded me of a defensive linebacker, all muscles and no neck. He always wore a severe buzz cut so that his gray hair wouldn’t show. His cold, slate gray eyes were wide set in a face that closely resembled a ferret who‘d had it‘s face smashed in with a shovel. A man with the type of body that clothes never fit correctly even when he attempted to get the right sized clothing. The baby blue polo shirt and black cargo pants bagged in odd places. Even the boots looked a couple sizes too small. His thunderous expression certainly would account for that. Or maybe someone broke the coffee pot at work, forcing him to actually microwave his coffee for once. That would do it. Oh yeah. That thought alone made me grin for a brief moment, then it disappeared as the real threat rolled up behind him, looking way too polite.
Stephen Mentari, his wheelchair made no noise as he joined my dad at the plane. His demeanor of power, old money, and arrogance set my teeth on edge. Now I knew, where Cosar had gotten his attitude. At sixty-five years of age, he continued to be a force to be reckoned with in the political and social arenas. A slender man with snow-white hair and dark brown eyes that were deceptively blank of any emotion. He was dressed in a black business suit, Armani would’ve been my guess, along with a black armband over his right bicep. All the alarm bells in my head went off after taking one look at those eyes. This man before me, innocent as he may seem, had the power to order the deaths of those who had died at the O-Bon dance in Japan, and get away with it. Which made him more dangerous than my dad’s rage.
Paul Montegard stopped just inside my personal space, trying to make me retreat, it didn’t work this time. Too much had happened for me to get ruffled feathers by intimidation tactics. Leaning forward so his face was inches from mine, he glared at the eye patch. “You little bitch! You didn’t tell me about the eye or about coming home today!” Thankfully, with his throat scars, his voice didn’t carry. I didn‘t need, or want, our private business trumpeted all over Seattle. “You were supposed to call and tell me when you were leaving that shithole. What the fuck were you thinking?” His face turned a bright red and froth started forming in the corners of his mouth.
Just to annoy him, I turned to extend my hand to Mr. Mentari. “It is an honor to meet you, sir. It’s nice to finally greet you in person. I am Terri Montegard. I’d like to offer my condolences for the loss of your son.” I even managed not to choke on the words as they came out of my mouth.
My words clearly took him by surprise, but he covered well by taking my hand. Raising it to his lips, he placed a light kiss just above the knuckles. “The honor is mine, my dear. Thank you for your condolences and your work photographing his political endeavors. I’d like to also extend my condolences to you for the unfortunate death of your sister.” His hand felt like the grave. Cold, bony, and very clammy. When he released my fingers, it was all I could do not to wipe them off on my pants.
His eyes, however, clashed with mine. It hit me then and there. This man, had been at least partially responsible for Sara Ashi’s murder. He knew it, I knew it, and we both acknowledged the fact with our eyes. It became a mental challenge to keep from ripping out the throat of this man. I could almost feel the flesh in my hands. However, it’s not in my nature to be bloodthirsty. Fuck it, it is, but I’m not insane enough to act on it. So I just stood there, gritting my teeth and smiling at him while rage boiled just beneath the surface. The frustrating part is that I had no proof except my own instinct.
We would have stayed that way, in a stare down, if my dad hadn’t grabbed me by the shoulder. His large fingers dug deep into the flesh, directly over the still tender scar. The pain dragged me back to the whole moment instead of a single object. Dad should have known better than to do something like that. Hell, he‘d seen me often enough in this state of mind. I never thought about the consequences, I simply reacted by grabbing his wrist, jabbing my elbow backwards into his solar plexus. As he tried to breathe, I went down on one knee, and tossed him over my shoulder to the pavement. Only my grip on his wrist kept him from having a serious case of tarmac rash. Reversing my handhold on his wrist, he became immobile in a painful wristlock. To make sure he didn’t squirm out of it, I put my booted foot on his shoulder. One good yank would painfully dislocate everything. Dad roared in anger as he tried to get loose, fighting until he figured out he wouldn’t be free until I decided to let him go.
He looked up at me from his face down position on the pavement. “Are you crazy? Let me go this instant, Terri. I mean it. You’re in big trouble!”
I lowered my voice and growled. “Don’t you dare touch me ever again, Dad. Especially when my back is turned!” I applied a little bit more torque on his arm, making him wince in pain. “You touch me again and we will finish this. You don’t own me anymore. So get the hell away from me and take your bigoted, closed-minded attitude with you.” I grabbed my duffle bag from where it dropped on the ground, trying to calm down. Pausing after taking a step away from him, my hand released his, then I slowly turned and made my way towards the terminal.
Pausing next to his wheelchair, I smiled politely at Stephen. “Forgive me, but I have to go through customs and then I’m in need of a bath. The present company, such as it is, makes me feel unclean.”
He nodded, then flicked a glance behind me. I sighed and shook my head. Dad just didn’t know when to quit. A second later, his calloused hands descended onto my shoulders. “Yer not going anywhere until I get answers.”
I turned my head slightly to look him in the eye. “Oh yes I am,” and jerked the heel of my hiking boot up into his crotch with enough force to make him think of nothing else except severe pain. “And if you don’t stop, I’ll be forced to file assault charges, Dad. I‘ve done it before. Only this time, adding sexual molestation charges could be a distinct possibility.”
He hit the ground, clutching himself, eyes full of pain and rage. “You wouldn’t dare!” He choked out through clenched teeth.
Fuck it, I thought to myself. My day had gone to crap and my attitude was not getting any better. “Try me, Dad. You know I‘ll do it, and if you haven‘t figured that one out by now, then I pity you.” I turned my back on him and looked at Mentari, Sr. A cruel glint lit his eyes as he watched the two of us. “It has been an interesting first meeting, sir.” My voice dropped to a low octave, a tone that I normally reserve for warning people away. “I hope some people realize it’s not a good idea to mess with a person who dislikes controlling people or people who decide to push the boundaries.”
Stephen Mentari looked up at me as I spoke. “Oh, I’m sure that the point has been made. But I wonder if the advice will be taken or not.”
I turned and began the trip across the tarmac, never once looking back. My little display had probably caused enough ruckus to gain the attention of the security cameras strategically placed in the area. They wouldn’t dare try anything stupid with the eyes of the terminal keeping track of every move they made. Once inside the terminal, I looked out the tinted windows. My dad, still kneeling where he dropped, looked like he was praying. Maybe he would need some divine interference if he ever tried to be so incredibly stupid ever again. Sighing, I began my way towards the customs area, shaking my head. It made me angry because my dad always tried to get the upper hand in everything. He’d never gone so far as to lay hands on me, before though, and that made my blood boil. Thankfully, I had my temper under control when I arrived at the customs booth.
Diane Taylor - [The Montegard Files] Page 7
