He wasn’t his father, nor would he ever be. He couldn’t just leave his girlfriend, Hisoka. Not when she was carrying his child and was just as terrified as he was about becoming a parent. She needed him. His unborn child needed him. He had a duty to them, and if there was one thing he understood, it was duty. Hell, it was why he was on this fucking boat in the first place.
Usually Arekusuandaa’s people took care of the import/export business, and all the related logistical and security details. So he had been surprised when he was called up, and more surprised when he’d arrived and been handed a semi, then put in charge of security for a pickup. This didn’t come from his boss, Tengu, but straight from the big man himself. And when The Rock picked you for something, you shut up and did it.
He noticed one of the divers sitting on the boat, looking just as bored as he was.
“So how does this work exactly?” Satoshi asked.
He sat down beside the diver as the man pulled on his rubbery wetsuit. Satoshi had to adjust the semiautomatic slung down under his fisherman’s jacket as he sat.
“First time on the Pleasure Cruise?” the man asked without looking up.
“Yeah.”
“Pretty simple, really. The cargo ships can’t take the contraband into the ports anymore. So—”
“Why not?”
“Tokyo Port Authority has cracked down on interdiction lately, so it’s too risky. That’s why we started doing the ocean drops. Basically our guys will pull our cargo out of storage early on incoming ships and dump it overboard. Then we ride out on a fishing trawler and pick it up. They don’t bother to check the fishing vessels since there’s so many of them.”
“How do you know where to get the cargo?”
“When they drop it, they send us a GPS beacon with the exact coordinates. So we dive in that spot and fish it out. Easy.”
“Anything in particular I should be on the lookout for?”
“If you’ve never been out here before, I’d say check out the Bay Barrier when we pass it. It’s only half-finished, but still a sight.” The man paused. “Or did you mean security-wise?”
“Yeah, the last one,” Satoshi said, raising his weapon. “That’s kind of why I’m here.”
The man waved a gloved hand dismissively. “Nope. Only thing we’re in danger of out here is boredom.”
“Good to know. What about guards on the Barrier? Will they give us any static?”
“Right now it’s mostly just the night construction crews. Plus, the closest we get is running parallel to it for a few miles. All in all, it’s a pretty cushy detail.”
Satoshi looked down at his fisherman’s overcoat, which reeked like a fish market in summer, but didn’t say anything.
“Hey, let me ask you something,” the diver asked. “Arekusuandaa’s guys always provide security for us. So what are you and the other new guy doing here all of a sudden?”
Satoshi shrugged. “Just following orders.”
It was nearly another two hours before they reached the site. They piloted their vessel parallel to the Bay Barrier for several miles before the construction ended abruptly a few miles out. Satoshi didn’t see what all the fuss was about. He was half-expecting something sleek like the aerodynamic metallic piers of the Thames Barrier. But what he could see under the bright glare of the construction lights was nothing like that.
Instead, the half-completed Bay Barrier consisted of giant concrete pylons rising from the water at regular intervals of fifty feet or so. These were connected in between by metal sluice gates down by the water, with a concrete walkway linking the enormous towers above.
The Bay Barrier was set up at the mouth of Tokyo Bay, stretching roughly thirty-seven miles from Ekoji, Chiba, on the mainland to Oshima Island out in the Sagami-Nada Sea. It would eventually be connected up with the larger Great Kanto Barrier that would stretch as far north as Ibaraki. All built in the hopes of keeping the capital from drowning.
“You think it’ll work?” the diver asked, motioning towards the massive wall.
Satoshi shook his head. “Not a chance.”
“Yeah, me neither, another pointless boondoggle from those idiots running the show.”
“Oh, it wasn’t pointless from their standpoint. I’ll bet all the RDP shills who passed it get reelected. As long as they keep that public works money coming. I’m more worried about what happens when the next wave comes.”
“Not me,” said the diver as he checked his tank. “I can swim.”
They cut the boat’s engine and lights over the spot. The two divers rolled off the side of the boat into the inky black water with consecutive splashes. Satoshi paced around the boat a few more times, but he didn’t see anything that looked threatening in the dark around them.
After several minutes, the divers both surfaced and motioned with hand signals to the crew waiting on the deck. The old fishermen handed them hooks attached to thick cables, with the divers each taking one before diving again. After several more minutes, they returned to receive a second set of hooks and cables, which they took down as the boat crew winched up the first batch of cargo. Satoshi had a brief flash of panic when he thought that winching the cargo up would pull the rickety boat over into the water. But the crusty old vessel settled into an unsettling angle and stayed there.
Satoshi helped the old-timers pull the first of the waterproof, hardened plastic containers over the rail and onto the deck of the ship. The entire process was repeated several more times until the deck contained nearly a dozen cargo containers. When they were finished, they started the engine up and turned around for the return trip.
Satoshi offered to help get the containers unpacked and secured below decks, but they just waved him off and told him to stay on the lookout. He was afraid they would say that. Because right now he was looking for anything to fight the fatigue and keep him awake. But ever the good soldier, he ambled around to the back of the boat to check for other vessels once more.
They were pushing up through the bay toward Yokohama when things went wrong.
Satoshi began to hear shouting from up front, where the men were storing the last of the cargo below decks in their hidden compartments. Instantly on alert, he began running towards the sound of the commotion, only to run into a throng of fishermen and divers coming towards him.
That was the first indication that everything was not as it should be. The second indication came in the form of the massive explosion that tore through the ship. It launched splintered wood and men through the air as it decimated the frail wooden boat.
Despite the fact that several people stood in between him and the blast, the shock wave was still strong enough to knock Satoshi back on his ass. Disoriented from being thrown, he began scrambling to his feet on the wet wooden deck. Just then, something heavy and soft landed on him.
As he lay there struggling beneath the object, he realized that it was a torso with just an arm and half a head. Half a head that was somehow still screaming loud enough to be heard over the ringing in his ears.
Frantically, Satoshi tried to get out from under the still-shrieking torso. He was almost to his feet when the boat began listing heavily to port, sending him sliding along the slick deck towards the side of the ship.
As he was trying to get to his feet, a second explosion rocked the beleaguered ship. The concussive blast was strong enough to knock Satoshi off the vessel and into the inky black water of the bay.
CHAPTER FOUR
The machine was threatened again.
This massively complicated, grinding, thrashing, shrieking, blood-soaked machine that he had built was once more in danger. But this time, the risk came from within. A piece of the machine itself had gone rotten and threatened to bring the rest to a shuddering halt.
And now Vasili Loginovski, The Rock, had to step in and set things right once more. He didn’t relish the task ahead of him, but it had to be done. For the sake of the machine, and all those that depended on it. For it was the ceaseless, shudd
ering pistoning of this infernal engine that he had built just below the surface that kept so much of the city moving.
Sometimes harsh glares, unspoken consequences, and veiled threats were enough to keep the machine humming along. Sometimes the veiled threats needed to be acted upon, and the machine had to be greased with blood to keep it going. No matter. Vasili Loginovski would do what needed to be done to keep it churning. He always had.
The warehouse district by the docks was deserted this time of night—except for a single large black SUV making its way through the streets, past dilapidated warehouses and rusting metal structures to either side. It glided down the side street beside one of the larger warehouses, where it pulled around back into a gravel parking lot illuminated by a single dim lightbulb.
Jun, with his slicked-back hair, goatee, and ankle-length black Demron overcoat, exited from the driver’s seat. At the same time, the passenger-side door opened and Kameko, who was wearing an identical ensemble with her hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, got out. Jun and Kameko were his personal guards and assistants. They spent so much time together that people had taken to calling them the Twins, despite the lack of resemblance.
Kameko pivoted to open the back door for her boss. The large man hoisted his bulk down from the leather seats and crunched onto the gravel underfoot. The Rock stood over six feet tall and weighed nearly three hundred pounds. Most of this bulk was solidly built, but with a layer of fat adding to his overall enormity. He wore his stylish dark gray Demron overcoat (for the man who wants to look good for a night on the town without worrying about radiation sickness) over a black suit. His face looked more like a rock slab than anything human, with an enormous nose, chilling blue eyes set deep in his skull, and closely cropped black hair towards the back of his head. His receding hairline made his enormous forehead seem even larger than it was.
He was early for his meeting at the warehouse. But as always, he wanted to be overprepared. As he surveyed the nearly empty parking lot, several men exited from the rear warehouse doors. They were carrying boxes on a portable lift towards a white truck parked against the fence. The last of the cleanup and removal crew. The leader of the crew set the box he was carrying down and trotted over to Vasili, giving him a deep bow.
Vasili gave him the slightest nod of his head in response. “Tengu.”
Tengu wasn’t actually the man’s real name, but the nickname fit him perfectly. The tengu of Japanese folklore were mythical demons with beaked snouts or unusually large noses, and fearsome temperaments. Tengu was roughly the same, with a large, hooked nose that made his small black eyes seem even beadier. His look was accentuated by the piercings in his nose and up and down both ears. He was generally even-keeled, until angered. Then his ferocious temper would get the best of him, and anyone in his way.
Tengu wasn’t the smartest guy Vasili had ever met, but he was fiercely loyal. His crew mostly handled dirty work and served as muscle where needed. Which is why it had surprised Vasili one day to see motivational office posters and management books in Tengu’s office. Apparently Tengu fancied himself something of a middle-management suit, only one more prone to using his fists than spreadsheets.
“Almost done, one more load and that should be it. Would have gone faster, but I’m down a man.”
“Yes, Satoshi. He is doing something else for me tonight.”
“Of course.”
“Were you able to salvage much?”
“Yeah. I don’t think the police have been here yet. Probably don’t want to tip us off that they pinched Arekusu. We got all the illicit shit out from the underground compartments, but there’s still plenty of clean merchandise in there …”
“Leave it.”
Tengu looked like he was about to protest, but he restrained himself. “Yes sir.”
“Hurry up and clear out. I have meeting with our future former warehouse manager soon. And take back way out. The cops are probably close by already.”
As Tengu hurried his men to finish up, Vasili walked into the cavernous warehouse where his assistants were setting up. The warehouse had rafters running almost the entire length of the room that were packed with cargo of all sorts. Everything from vacuum cleaners and rice cookers to imported liquors, packaged foods, even sheet metal, iron rods, and other construction equipment lining one wall. The warehouse was an important node in the vast, sprawling machine at work throughout the city. Shame it would all have to go.
There was an open area towards the rear entrance that was relatively free of clutter. This was where Vasili’s assistants were busy setting up for their AV presentation. Getting your message across to someone wearing a wire without tipping your hand to those listening in was a difficult feat. But then, Vasili’s people always rose to such occasions.
Jun was testing the projector that he had trained against the wall above the garage-door-sized entrance. When he was satisfied, he nodded over to Vasili, who was now seated in the folding chair facing the makeshift projector screen. Next to him stood a heavy cardboard box that Jun had dragged over from somewhere in the stacks.
Vasili looked over to Kameko, as if he even needed to check to see if she was ready. He saw her standing there with her thumb in her mouth. When she realized he was looking at her, she nodded back without a hint of self-consciousness.
“Really?” Vasili asked.
His booming voice reverberated and echoed back to them from throughout the cavernous room. He spoke in English for all official business, as did everyone in the Kaisha. But he had never lost his heavy Russian accent, nor his tendency to drop articles.
“What? Public speaking makes me nervous.”
“But will only be four of us.”
“Yeah, plus whoever else happens to be listening in.”
Just then the rear door opened and Arekusuandaa’s long shadow stepped through, followed by the man himself. He was much smaller in person.
“Alex! How are you?” Vasili asked in good spirits.
“Hey, Vasili, how are you?” Arekusuandaa asked, pushing his greasy hair out of his face as he walked over to the small group.
“Fine, fine. Please, have seat.” Vasili motioned towards the chair he had just vacated. “We have much to discuss.”
“Yeah, I wanted to talk to you, too. Couple of issues I’ve been having recently.”
Vasili motioned for him to sit down. Then he stood right behind him with one massive paw on each of the smaller man’s shoulders.
“Of course, all in good time. But first, you remember my assistant Kameko, yes?”
“Sure.”
Arekusuandaa tried to crane his neck around to see her, but Vasili’s powerful hands kept him facing forward in his seat.
“A pleasure,” Kameko said.
“Kameko-san is going to walk you through results of your recent audit. Alright?”
Arekusuandaa tried again to glance behind him. As he did, Jun turned on the projector to display a large white screen with a message written in all caps.
ALEX – IT’S IMPORTANT THAT YOU
REMAIN ABSOLUTELY SILENT
UNLESS PROMPTED
SAY YES IF YOU UNDERSTAND
Confused, Arekusuandaa looked to Vasili, who in turn pointed at the screen. Arekusuandaa looked once more at the screen, then back to Vasili, and nodded. He was trying to keep his face from imploding in on itself, but without much luck. Finally, he offered a hesitant, “Yes.”
“Good!” Vasili enthused. “Then let’s begin.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Satoshi is six years old again, riding the subway out to Yokohama with his family. Which is something he’s still amazed at, because his father almost never joins them. His father is a good daddy to him and his baby sister, but he’s hardly ever around. Mommy says it’s because he works late at night and needs to sleep during the day. It wasn’t until he was older that Satoshi realized it was because his father walked the Path. At some level, Satoshi knows this as he looks through his younger self’s eyes, even
though this wasn’t something he knew when he was six.
But right now his father is there with the whole family. The bags under his eyes are heavy and he looks like he’s struggling just to stay awake. But he’s playing with Satoshi, and that’s all that matters. His daddy is pointing out buildings and making up ridiculous stories about how aliens must have built that one, or how that one is where they make robots. Little Satoshi is loving it. He can barely hold on to the railing by the door because he’s laughing so hard. His mother looks on from her seat with his baby sister on her lap and a wry smile on her face. His little sister doesn’t get the joke, she just blinks and looks at them with a confused look on her pudgy face.
And then they’re off the train and walking through throngs of people flocking towards the port area under the late-afternoon sun of this scorching August day. They soon arrive and set up on a small hillside, which gives them a great view of the ships floating out in the water. He’s so happy now, sitting there talking to his father. He can smell the ocean on the cool breezes that occasionally make their way through the stifling heat.
He’s not talking to his usual daddy, either. Not the one who would come out and yell at him not to play so loud because he was sleeping. Or tell him he had a rough day and just wanted to eat by himself. He isn’t talking to that father, but to his daddy who is making jokes, and drinking beer, and has all the time in the world for Satoshi. He almost doesn’t want it to get dark, even though they came for the fireworks. No, he wants this day to last forever.
But eventually the sky grows darker as they laze out on their picnic blanket. And when the fireworks start, Satoshi is enthralled. He looks up as the explosions shoot light across the night sky. One moment it’s too dark to see anything around him, and the next the entire black sky is alight with the incandescent glow of chemicals burning brightly.
The Drowning City (Tokyo Noir Book 1) Page 3
