by James Quinn
“It began during the war, when I was part of a team conducting experiments for the Japanese Secret Police, the Kempeitai. My area of expertise was in the promotion of nerve agents and biological warfare. I'd been placed in charge of a department known as Konbājensu… convergence. Its aim was to bring together several sciences to create new viruses for warfare. We would integrate various serums, experimenting to see what we could achieve. Then we would test them on our live subjects in the camps. Many of the serums were of no use and would quite often kill or deform the hosts. There were a lot of failures…”
Gorilla could well imagine the poor souls, tied to chairs and tables before being injected with a vile cocktail of who knew what. It had been the same for the Nazi's in the camps and so it seemed for the Japanese secret police who had a reputation for barbarity.
Reizo continued. “But then, purely by random, we came across something interesting… a combination of various drugs. Together, they created a powerful serum designed to make the subject both unaware of what they were doing, as well as extremely aggressive. We were well into our project trials when something happened—”
“What?” asked Gorilla.
“The defeat of Japan in 1945. I was captured and placed in prison. All my research notes for all of my projects were confiscated. The Allies were very thorough. All except for my work on the Kyonshi project – that was all in my head, nothing written down. Those were the orders of the Karasu — I mean, Captain Nakata.”
“So what happened to you next?”
“I was eventually released and after the war, I went to work in a small laboratory for the government, testing bacteria samples. For someone of my calibre, it was a menial position. Many years later, I was approached by a man, he offered me a job, an opportunity to come and work for a private pharmaceutical company. He told me that my salary would be tripled and I would be offered a full team of assistants. He did not mention the specifics of my contract, only that it was for Nakata Industries in their secret research and development program.”
“And you took it? Without questioning what you had to do?” asked Gorilla.
Reizo shook his head. “Oh no, I knew exactly what I was doing. I had done much worse in the past; it was my duty. But the Karasu was offering me so much more, the chance to live again – wealth, influence, freedom… plus the chance to complete what I'd failed to finish during the war; the Kyonshi project.”
“So a drug that causes violent outbursts? Tell me about it… tell me everything,” demanded Gorilla, pointing the gun at the cowering man.
Reizo nodded. “I was given free rein to bring my wartime project back to life. I had facilities, assistants, the latest technology and of course, money. My orders were to take the original idea and improve upon it. The Karasu wanted me to design a synthetic drug, a serum, which would turn the subject delusional and violent, capable of attacking anything in its path, increasing strength and allowing the subject to experience limited pain. His vision was for this high strength serum to work on two levels. Firstly, as an enhanced aggression drug and secondly, as a conduit for infecting the civilian population. The Kyonshi would attack, bite, and scratch their targets and within hours, those targets would be infected and become debilitated.”
“What was the virus you used?” asked Gorilla, trying to fathom where this was going.
“It was something we had been working on for years, part of the original projects for the Kempeitai, a combination of virulent spreadable diseases. We trialled many, but the combination that worked best was the convergence of some strains of tetanus, tuberculosis and herpes simplex virus. These worked extremely well together. They affected the nervous and muscular systems and caused chronic pain, vomiting, nausea, fatigue, usually death. It was particularly nasty.”
“What was the Raven planning to do with it?”
Reizo wiped the blood from his nose. “I do not know what he planned to do with it. I heard details of it being used as a weapon of terror, to be used in a revolutionary coup. This makes the most sense to me. The Tier One hosts… the Kyonshi … spread fear and panic with their violence. The infection they spread through bites to the Tier Two hosts causes a drain on the country's medical and emergency resources. Within a day, the Kyonshi would die, if they hadn't already been killed, but the fallout from the 'infected' hosts would have far-reaching consequences for the country it was to be used against. I would surmise it would be at that point when a ruthless coup plotter could take over the mantel of power and seize control of the country.”
“So you obviously got the Kyonshi virus working at some point?” asked Gorilla.
Reizo smiled. “Oh yes… we achieved what we wanted to do, quite quickly. The technology and the science behind it had moved on since the war. Plus, we had the facilities to make it state of the art. Once we had the basic elements in place, the project proceeded rapidly. The Karasu is a man who you don't disappoint… ever. He procured dozens of test subjects for our trials. They were mainly vagrants and low-life scum from all over Asia. Many of them died in the trials, but once we had manipulated the fundamentals of the virus, we began to achieve quantifiable successes. We would gas them and monitor their violent behaviour to see how long it lasted, the level of aggression and that sort of thing.”
“And then what would you do with them?”
“Oh, we would have a weapons team ready to eliminate them in their cells. We could take no chances, the Kyonshi were extremely strong and extremely violent. Even the guards wouldn't enter their cells. They would simply poke the barrels of their weapons through the grill in the door and fire. I once saw a guard empty an entire magazine into one of the Kyonshi subjects – a teenage boy – before he died,” explained Reizo.
“And there was no cure? Nothing?” asked Gorilla. He could already imagine the chaos that something like this terror weapon would cause on the streets of most civilised countries. It was almost designer terrorism, a low-risk, high reward operation for the plotters involved in releasing the Kyonshi virus.
Reizo shook his head. “Not initially. Eventually someone would have found the correct level of medication to treat the infected. But by that time, the damage would have been done. My guess was that the Karasu was planning to sell it to the highest bidder. I spent many months working with Marcello, the Italian – he was an expert in making improvised explosive devices, probably as a delivery method for the virus, but we were never allowed to know the details of what we were doing. We were watched at all our meetings, watched by the Karasu's people. It was on a need-to-know basis.”
Gorilla considered this. “What about the supplies of this drug, the vials? Where does he keep them? At Nakata Industries headquarters, perhaps?”
“No, not there.”
Gorilla didn't believe him and stepped forward, ready to pistol whip and start kneecapping this mass-murderer-in-waiting if he had to. He was tired of pissing about with these people.
“Wait! Let me explain… I do not know, I only suspect!” shouted Reizo.
Gorilla growled. “Start talking fast, before I start shooting out your joints… I can make you feel pain like you've never imagined! Not everyone gets to die straight away.”
Reizo sat up and began to sing. “Okay… okay… Once the Kyonshi virus was completed and tested, all of the vials were taken off-site and transported to a secure and secret location.” Gorilla lifted the gun a little higher, ready to pistolwhip the Japanese man and Reizo shook his head frantically holding his hands up in front of his face. “Wait, wait! I do not know where this facility is… but I once heard the Karasu's advisor, the big man…”
“Hokku,” Gorilla supplied.
“Yes, the giant sumo that is the Karasu's clan brother – I overheard him giving instructions to his people, thugs and criminals, responsible for the security on the transport. All I heard was that they would be travelling to the pagoda, that is what he called it, the Karasu's private Dojo. It is said to be the Karasu's sanctuary and most secret facility. I had t
o countersign the manifest, authorising the release of the shipment. There was a map on the dashboard of the truck with a route through to Matsumoto, in the Nagano Prefecture. Within the hour, the full consignment of vials left in a Nakata Industries refrigerated truck.”
“When was this?”
“Less than three months ago. Not long after, I was told that I would be travelling to Brazil and told to keep a low profile. They said I would be protected. I was given this villa and I have a maid and everything I need. Sake, women, money… I was told that I would be contacted by couriers and they would tell me when it was safe to return to Japan. When the courier didn't show today I was worried, I did not know what to think, and then you came,” Reizo said hurriedly.
Gorilla took it all in, trying to decipher if this little monster of a man was telling the truth. In the end, he had no way of knowing, but at the very least he had some fresh intelligence which could blow the hidden parts of the operation wide open. Information that Masterman and Penn could trace back, back to the secrets that C had taken with him to the grave. The problem now was, although he had answers to his questions, he still had a living target and witness who should be dead as a pigeon by now. The chemist had outlived his usefulness in all sorts of ways and to keep him alive, despite Gorilla's promises of protective custody, was just too much of a risk. A risk to the operation certainly, but also a risk to Gorilla's own chances of survival. If he went back without a body being found shot to death, then the chances were that he wouldn't make it through until sundown. Trench and his team of cut-throats would see to that.
“Get up… get yourself dressed. Pack an overnight bag, just a few things; you'll be travelling light… change of clothes, toothbrush, that type of thing. My people will sort the rest out,” ordered Gorilla. He watched as Reizo quickly flitted around the villa, grabbing clothes, socks, money and stuffing them into a small leather holdall. Gorilla knew what he was going to do and when he was going to do it. He was just waiting for the right moment. The bathroom, he would do it there when the target went into the bathroom to collect his wash-bag.
Reizo stepped through the bathroom door and leaned over the large bath to pick up a razor and shaving brush and it was then when Gorilla stepped up behind him, raised the pistol and fired once behind the chemist's right ear. The report echoed around the small tiled room and the body of the Japanese chemist flopped forward into the bath, his body convulsing on the way down. He landed almost in a foetal position, his body curled up, with one leg casually hanging over the side of the bath. Gorilla pointed the pistol down and fired three more shots into the man's chest. He knew from experience it wasn't really necessary; the shot to the head had finished him off already. But when the Raven's people came by to make sure the job had been completed, Gorilla wanted as much blood and gore on show as possible, to make it look as if the chemist had been gunned down ruthlessly.
* * *
“Not too quick this time,” said Maria, a hint of playfulness in her voice. They'd been driving for only a few moments, winding along the coast road. “So where to now?” she asked.
“Back to where you picked me up yesterday, thank you,” said Gorilla pleasantly.
“So we are finished for the day, your business is done, yes?”
“Yes. All complete.”
She drove for a few seconds more and then slowly pulled the car to a stop in a lay-by. She cranked on the handbrake and turned in her seat to look at him. Her cap was still cocked at an angle, making her look even more youthful. “When the job was over, I was told to give you this,” she said. She turned back and pulled an envelope out from underneath her seat, passing it to him.
Gorilla stared at it. The envelope was sealed. He quickly slit the lip with his finger and pulled out the small note inside. Written on it were three words:
KILL THE GIRL
Now it made sense. While the hits were definitely genuine jobs, contracts that the Raven wanted carried out, they were also a test of how good Gorilla was as a contractor. They wanted to see if he had mettle, was adaptable and versatile, but above all, they wanted to see how ruthless he was. The shoddy weapon, poor ammo, no suppressor to keep the noise down, terrible holster, spotty intelligence and now, using an amateur to drive the contractor around – it all smacked of Hokku and his master giving their new recruit a rough ride. But that was okay. Gorilla had been in far worse situations than this and survived.
Kill the girl. It would be oh so easy… just pull the gun from the concealed holster, and one shot would finish it all. She wouldn't even know what had happened. He could shoot her and walk away. He drummed his leg with his fingers as he toyed with what to do.
The moment of indecision passed. He'd decided and he was operational again. Gorilla took one last look at the girl's jet black hair. He reached inside his jacket, one-handed, and withdrew the item which would seal the girl's fate. He leaned forward and whispered into her ear. “Take this money and go, get out of here. Don't go back to the people who gave you this job. I was meant to kill you, once I'd finished. If you go back to your contact, they'll kill you for sure. Get out of Rio, start again somewhere else. Drive and drive fast!”
He'd done what had to be done, what he could live with, and then he left the car for the final time. He stood by the side of the road and watched as she drove away. When the car was nothing but a shimmer in the distance, he began to walk towards the city.
Chapter Five
BANGKOK – FEBRUARY 1968
In the days when he'd been an employee of the Redaction Unit for the Secret Intelligence Service, Frank Trench's cryptonym had been Iago. It was a name which fitted him perfectly, for like the character from the Shakespearean play, he was always plotting, scheming and involved in any number of double crosses. He was a man who thrived on the art of conspiracy and secrets and this, he was sure, gave him the perfect mindset and practical experience to solve the mystery of what had happened to his team of contractors.
He was sitting on the bed in his Bangkok apartment, naked except for a loose sarong tied around his waist. He had all his toys around him. The bottle of half-finished Chivas Regal, the young – probably too young – Thai girl he'd bought for the night and the opium he was saving until last, saving until he'd untangled the mystery that was hammering at his head. The opium was his reward, his gift to himself when he'd sorted all the evidence in his mind. But not yet, that was for later, for now, he needed to dissect what he knew about the deaths of his men.
Trench knew his men. Knew how they thought, worked and operated. What's more, he knew that all of his European contractors did jobs on the side – a little extra income – of course he did. This was despite the rules laid down by the clan, demanding they were be the sole employers unless otherwise agreed. Trench had argued against this with Taru Hokku, but the Japanese man had been rigid in his commands.
Trench knew it was easier just to go along with it in the long run, tell the clan what they wanted to hear and turn a blind eye to his men's 'alternative' short term employment contracts. After all, you couldn't expect to have the quality of men he'd recruited, and not let them chase their own private contracts when they thought the boss wasn't looking. The question was, he thought, was that the reason for their recent mass demise? Work for the Raven clan, or work for their extra-curricular employers?
If it had just been one of them, Trench might have put it down to a random accident, a one-off. But there was too much happening too fast. First Reierson had seemingly blown his own brains out in Amsterdam, then the assassination of the two Irish gunmen in Madrid, followed by the shooting of his two top soldiers in Antwerp, and now the news that Milburn had been found dead, stabbed to death, in the toilets of a hotel in Singapore. Nearly half his contractors wiped out in the last few months!
He knew where it led back to, or at least, what his gut was telling him. Gorilla Grant.
Up until Gorilla arrived, Trench was running a nice little operation for his employers. No leaks, no compromise, nothing. Go
rilla Grant was on the scene for five minutes and all his top hitters were suddenly riding a helter-skelter down to hell. Was Grant still in league with SIS? Had it all just been a long term operation – getting fired, living the life of a down-and-out before trailing his coat in Hong Kong, hoping that Trench would scoop him up? It had to be the new guy on the team… but still… there was one tiny, but significant problem in his theory, and that was the men Gorilla had killed along the way. First the two leg breakers in Hong Kong and now the 'hits' he'd performed for the Raven in Brazil…
Trench was sure – no, he was positive, that SIS in its current form would never sanction such an operation. Getting an SIS undercover man in place was one thing, but having him murdering for the enemy… never! SIS just didn't have the balls for that anymore. They'd been effectively neutered operationally over the past year or so. Thanks partly to his hunting down and decimation of his old colleagues in Redaction, but more importantly because Salamander had set about destroying SIS's covert action capability from within. It was all part of the Raven's long term master plan, whatever that was…
He knew he would never make it as high up as the Raven, but Hokku would give him what he needed to help him get to the bottom of this mystery. He knew what it would involve. It meant going back into his old stomping ground. For him personally, it was a risk, he was now classed as an enemy agent, even if he had faked his own death and been officially declared dead. There was still the chance that someone might recognise him.
Still, he would manage; a bit of a disguise, false papers – the Raven had some excellent forgers on the payroll. He would manage to get into the UK, conduct his investigation and get out without any of his old colleagues being made aware of his presence. But if his theory of what had happened with Gorilla Grant was correct, then he'd need access to the highest level of intelligence information the British government had on secret operations. And for that, Trench would need the help of the Raven's most closely guarded secret – the Salamander.
