I let out a short breath.
Come on, Adrian. Man the hell up already.
“Wait here,” I whisper to Mia. “Don’t make a sound.”
I slowly push the door open and step inside.
…
…
…
The room’s empty.
There’s a bed in the left corner, nearest the door. There’s some kind of weird… I don’t know what it is—a structure in the opposite right corner. It’s wooden, with leather restraints in various positions.
I honestly don’t want to know.
The noise I heard is coming from a large flat-screen TV mounted on the opposite wall, playing an X-rated movie. I stare at it a moment, frowning.
What is that woman doing? What’s that she’s…
My eyes snap wide as I realize what I’m looking at. I quickly turn around and leave, closing the door behind me.
I’m pretty sure that was a horse.
I shake my head.
I’m not going to un-see that image for a while!
Jesus…
“Are you okay?” asks Mia.
I nod. “Yeah. Don’t go in there.”
Her expression changes. She looks bemused. “Okay…”
I open the next four doors, alternating right, then left. Each one is as empty as the first, with similar devices set up in them. One even had a video camera on a tripod aimed at a bed.
I’m outside the last room on the left before the end of the corridor.
I feel an involuntary shudder travel along my spine.
Seriously, this place is fucking weird.
There’s still no sign of life. More importantly, there’s still no sign of any heavily-armed Yakuza foot soldiers trying to kill me. Maybe I was worrying about nothing, and nobody was monitoring the security cameras?
I grab the handle and push open the sixth door. At least I haven’t seen—
“What the fuck?”
Did I say that out loud? I definitely thought it.
In front of me is a man and a woman on a bed. Both turn and look over.
Yeah… I said that out loud.
Shit.
The man is short, overweight, and naked. He’s wearing a leather balaclava that obscures everything except his eyes and nose. He’s on his knees, holding what looks to be some kind of whip with a purposely frayed end. The woman is also naked, with a gag ball strapped around her head, resting in her mouth. She’s on all fours in front of him. I hear her whimpering. To my left is a computer with a webcam set up, aimed at the couple.
I step inside the room. Now I’m nearer to them, I can see the woman’s body more clearly. She’s very petite, probably mid-thirties, with long dark hair.
“Holy shit…”
Her back is shredded. Flesh has been stripped away, and thin streams of blood flow freely from the open wounds.
I glance at the man, then at the computer, quickly putting two and two together in my head. My guess is people are paying to watch this guy flay this poor woman alive. For a very brief moment, I consider the possibility that this is staged in some way. That the woman is a willing participant. That perhaps this is all an act designed to con sick bastards out of the fortunes they likely don’t deserve.
But one look at the woman’s face tells me that’s not the case. The tears are real, and the fear and defeat in her eyes tells me she most certainly isn’t willing.
I look at my gun again. Then back at the man. Then at the gun once more.
I should save the bullets.
I tuck it behind me and stride over to the bed. Without slowing, I step and thrust my right boot as hard as I can into the side of the guy’s head. He flies into the wall, grunting and moaning from the impact.
I move quickly, aware that everything that’s happening is probably being streamed live across the internet. I yank the bedsheet off and throw it over the woman. I remove the gag and take a moment to wrap the blanket properly around her. She’s shaking, terrified.
“It’s over now,” I say, letting my Ili do the work as I try to offer some comfort. “Get out of here, okay? Fast as you can.”
She scurries off the bed and huddles in the far corner, staring at me through tear-filled eyes.
I look over at the man, who’s just starting to move again.
“And you, you twisted sonofabitch…” I rip the mask from his head, revealing his sweaty, ugly face, and grab the whip he dropped when I hit him. “Let’s see how you like it!”
I wind up and smash the whip across his face. The leather is tough and thick. The crack echoes around the room. I hear the instant tearing sound as the flesh on his face splits in multiple places. He goes to scream but passes out before the sound can pass his lips. He falls backward on the bed, lying sprawled out and unconscious on the blood-stained sheets.
His face is a mess.
There are five long, deep horizontal slices across it. It looks as if he’s been mauled by a tiger. The skin is shredded and covered in thick blood. His brow is split open, and his left eye is bulging unnaturally—stained red from, I’m guessing, a burst blood vessel.
Don’t think I’d be very good at this bondage thing. I hit people way too hard.
I regard him for a moment, giving myself a chance to find an ounce of humanity inside me to perhaps feel some compassion for him.
…
…
…
Nope. The piece of shit deserved it.
I hear a loud gasp behind me. I turn to see Mia standing in the doorway, her eyes wide with shock. A hand clasped to her mouth.
That isn’t ideal, but there’s little I can do about it now. I don’t know how much she saw. I’m guessing enough, judging by her reaction.
I walk over to the computer. I lean forward and flip both middle fingers at the camera. “Get off on that , you sick bastards.”
I upturn the desk, sending the equipment crashing to the floor. I stamp down hard on the camera as I make my way out of the room, ushering Mia out ahead of me.
“I told you to stay out here,” I say to her, my hands on her shoulders.
Her eyes are still wide and watering. “I wanted to see… you just… what was that man doing?”
“Nothing you should concern yourself with. Now look—this isn’t a nice place, and to make sure I find Ruby and get all three of us out of here safely, you gotta do what I say. If I ask you to stay outside the room, stay outside the goddamn room. Okay?”
I feel bad being so firm, but it’s for her own good. I can concern myself with the repercussions of her seeing this side of me later. Right now, I just need to keep her safe.
She nods silently. Her face relaxes. She blinks rapidly and stares at the floor.
“Good.”
I look over at the poor woman in the corner and gesture to the door with a nod. “Go. Get out of here.”
She scrambles to her feet and runs past us, through the door and back along the corridor. I watch her until she disappears outside.
Satisfied she’s safe, I look back at Mia. “Now come on.”
We approach the double doors at the end of the corridor. Seeing that back there has put me in a real bad mood. The kind of bad mood that silences the sensible part of my brain. The kind of bad mood that uses ammunition to make a point.
An image of that woman flashes into my mind. I see her huddled beneath the blanket, broken and defeated, her body torn and vulnerable. Then I see Ruby, and I’m forced to picture her the same way.
I take out my 1911 again. I grip it so tightly that I feel the color pulse from my knuckles.
No voice of reason is going to stop me now. The time for strategy and diplomacy is over.
“Keep behind me,” I say without looking around. “Once we’re through these doors, find something to hide behind and stay there.”
I don’t wait for a response. I kick the double doors in front of me, sending them flying open. They both slam against the walls on either side. I step over the threshold and quickl
y take in the layout of the inner sanctum. It’s a large, open space, almost circular, with doors on all four compass points. I’m standing in the south doorway. At the center is a raised oval platform, possibly used as a stage. There’s a pole in the middle of it.
The walls are adorned with a host of… equipment. Everything from sex toys to power drills, baseball bats with nails through the end to flamethrowers, swords to screwdrivers… all on display like some sadistic museum.
Ichiro wasn’t kidding about this place.
The north and west doors are closed. The east doors are open, and a man in a suit is standing by them, just inside this room. He’s staring right at me, frozen to the spot with a look of confusion and fear on his face. He appears young. His skin is unblemished, his dark hair styled, his suit freshly pressed. Perhaps a new member of the family, eager to make a good impression.
His body language suggests he just spun around, alerted by my indiscreet entrance. The fact he’s guarding those doors suggests that’s probably the way I need to go.
Sucks to be him right now.
I snap my arm level and squeeze the trigger, aiming on instinct. The bullet finds its mark, as I knew it would. It burrows its way into his forehead and explodes out the other side, splashing a cocktail of gray matter, thick crimson, and bone fragments across the wall. His body falls backward almost instantly, landing just out of my line of sight behind some seating near the open doors.
Four rounds left.
I glance behind me. Mia is ducked behind a booth, shaking quietly.
I make my way across the room, moving counterclockwise around the oval stage, toward the east doors. I turn to head through them and see light shining through a crack in the door ahead, at the end of another, much shorter corridor.
Let’s just hope I—
There’s movement behind me. Multiple pairs of footsteps rush into position. I hear the mechanical sound of weapons being primed.
—didn’t attract any attention.
I turn around slowly.
Well, shit.
Many years ago, I acquired the ability to absorb huge amounts of information from a split-second look. I have a highly functional short-term memory, which is very useful in situations such as this one. I knew there were guns before I turned around because I heard them. Therefore, I know I have no more than a couple of seconds to run through potential scenarios and make decisions that will determine whether or not I’m alive at lunchtime.
In the first second, I count eight hostiles—four from the north doorway to my right, and four from the west doorway straight ahead of me. They’re all wearing matching suits, identical to the one on the dead body at my feet. Some of them have ties, others have an open neck. Best guess, they work at the club.
I also count eight handguns. Now, I’m no mathematician, but given I have four bullets in my gun, some would argue the odds aren’t exactly in my favor.
The final second was spent planning my attack. I see no option for defense here. There’s no cover except where Mia is, and I don’t want to attract attention to her. The corridor behind me has no doors besides the one at the end, so I can’t turn tail and run down there—I wouldn’t make it three feet. My only option is to attack. I consider maybe five alternatives before settling on what I’m going to do.
I take a deep breath. And another.
Here goes nothing.
13
09:19 JST
I run toward the group directly ahead of me. Three or four steps into my sprint, my right arm is up, pointing sideways. As I draw level with the other group by the north doors, I open fire. Four rounds in quick succession.
No one’s reacted yet. I gambled on nobody considering I would be stupid or crazy enough to run at them.
It paid off.
The group was huddled together in the small space by the doors, so they were sitting ducks. I didn’t commit more than a glance in their direction as I fired. I know I dropped two of them for sure. Maybe a third, but he could’ve just been reacting to the gunfire. I’ll check in a moment.
As the hammer thumps onto an empty chamber, I discard the weapon and jump. I’m moving at a good speed and get significant height as I push off. Bracing for the impact, I bring both feet up, dropkicking the closest guy to me in the group by the west doors. I make a solid connection with his chest, and he flies back into his colleagues.
I hit the floor hard. I force myself down and take the brunt of the impact on my shoulders. The air is temporarily jolted from my lungs, but I don’t have time to worry about trivial things like breathing. I roll toward the oval stage, onto my front, and push myself upright as quickly as I can.
The group by the west doors are scattered across the floor. The guy I hit dropped his gun. I scoop it up and take aim at the north doors, taking a valuable second to catch my breath and reassess the situation.
I hit three of them. The fourth is about to shoot at me.
BANG! BANG!
I put two in his chest. He collapses lifelessly to the floor.
I spin to face the remaining group. The guy whose gun I’m holding is almost vertical again. I step toward him and slam my elbow into his temple. It’s a solid connection, and his legs buckle as consciousness rushes from him. As he falls away to the floor, I take aim and fire another two rounds, putting a bullet in each of the chests of the next two guys in the group.
They tumble to the floor and sprawl awkwardly over one another, restricting the movement of the fourth guy. He manages to get a couple of shots off. Thankfully, despite such close quarters, the bullets whizz a few inches over my head.
Still, that was pretty close…
I fire two more rounds, aiming first at his legs, then at his shoulder. The first round shatters his kneecap, and he drops to the floor. The second clipped his collarbone—a clean hit, through and through. Neither is life-threatening, although that one in his knee is going to hurt like a bitch for a long time.
I think that’s everyone.
I turn a slow circle, checking for survivors. No one’s moving. I walk over to my discarded 1911 and retrieve it.
“Enough!”
Uh-oh.
I straighten and look at the east doors ahead of me.
Shit.
The driver from last night is standing there, flanked by the same two ballsacks he had with him at the race meet. Ruby is next to him. Her dress is dirty and torn. Her face is bruised. The driver has a knife to her throat.
The world freezes. I stare at Ruby, forgetting everything else around me. Her legs are shaking. Not through fear, but through the effort of being upright. Someone’s done a real number on her. When I find out which one of these pricks it was, I’m going to make them wish they were never born.
“So, it’s true. The man himself is here.”
Huh?
I look to my right, back over at the doors I kicked open with…
“Mia!”
Another man has appeared there, wearing a dark suit, a shirt, and no tie. His black hair is spiked. He has three men with him. All dressed casually. All holding handguns.
I recognize him immediately.
Tetsuo Kazawa.
He’s standing behind Mia, who’s hugging herself and whimpering. His hand is on her neck, keeping her firmly in place. He’s tall, maybe an inch shorter than me. His broad frame is detailed by sinewy muscle, visible through the dark, fitted outfit he’s wearing. The unblemished skin on his face is covered by the makings of an equally dark beard. His mouth forms a perpetual smirk, borne of arrogance and privilege.
I glance back at Ruby before stepping toward Kazawa. I make it two paces before he produces his own gun and aims it at me.
“That’s far enough, Adrian Hell.”
I stop. Hold my hands out to the sides. I look at Mia, desperate to make eye contact with her. To reassure her she’ll be okay. But her eyes are closed. She’s crying.
“Drop your weapons,” orders Kazawa.
With little choice, I do.
&n
bsp; “This is turning into a very profitable day, isn’t it?” he continues, laughing to himself.
I shrug. “I think that depends which side of the gun you’re standing on.”
“Ko is a bright young man. Ambitious. Driven. When he brought your lady friend here last night, he saw potential. She is a… fine specimen, wouldn’t you agree?” He pauses to chuckle to himself. “She will attract many buyers for her beautiful parts.”
I look back at Ruby. Then at the driver. Now I know his name.
“It’s Ko, right?” I ask him. “Did you do this to her? Did you lay a beating on her? Or did you get someone else to do it for you?”
Ko laughs, turns his head slightly, revealing an impressive bruise just below his ear.
“This bitch put up a hell of a fight… it took all three of us to put her in her place!”
I look at Ruby again. She smiles weakly. I nod to her.
Good for you, kiddo.
“That’s good to know,” I say to Ko. “Now, when I kill all three of you, at least you’ll fully understand why.”
Ko and his friends laugh. Then he buries his fist in Ruby’s stomach. She keels over, coughing, but the other two guys hoist her upright without a moment’s reprieve.
She looks at me. “Would you please… not antagonize… the Yakuza?”
“Sorry,” I say, shrugging. Then I look back over at Kazawa. “And as for you, you should let the girl go before you get hurt.”
Kazawa laughs. “You know who I am, right?”
“I do. Believe it or not, yesterday, somebody tried to hire me to kill you.”
His expression changes. It’s subtle, but he fails to mask his concern.
“Really? Who?”
“Relax. I killed him.”
He lowers his gun. Smiles. “How kind.”
“Yeah, I’m a real saint. Listen, seeing as you technically owe me one, how about you let the two ladies go? Keep me instead? What do you say?”
Kazawa pauses. His eyes narrow.
Is he… is he considering it? That would be a stroke of good fortune. Sort of.
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