Blowback

by James P. Sumner

  “I’ll do what I can to make this right by you,” I reply. “When all this is said and done, I’ll buy back the noodle bar from the Oji-gumi. Business is business to them, right?”

  He smiles. “Thank you for offer, but you cannot promise that when you cannot promise to survive.”

  “Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence!”

  He laughs his deep, crazy laugh. A moment later, I join in. The atmosphere lightens. The mood changes. I won’t forget what he had to give up for me, but for now, what’s done is done.

  We pull into the parking lot of the Dome. It’s mostly deserted. We climb out. I stretch gently, trying to loosen up after being cramped into that small car. Ichiro sets off walking for the exit. I follow, putting my Pilot and my Ili in place quickly, so I can stuff my hands back inside my pockets.

  The sidewalk is much busier here. I twist and turn my body as I weave through the sea of people, who all seem to be going the opposite way to us. I’m glad when we turn into the park.

  The Koishikawa Korakuen Gardens surrounding the Tokyo Dome are beautiful. The vibrant, earthy colors are more prominent against the dull backdrop of the day. The wide path is clean and quiet. The noise from the street is instantly muted, replaced with birdsong.

  “Let me do talking,” says Ichiro. “This will be… delicate conversation.”

  I scratch absently at my chin, which is in desperate need of a shave. “Yeah, I can imagine.”

  We follow the path for a few minutes until the Shinto shrine appears on our left, floating on its own little island in the middle of a small lake. Up ahead, I see four men wearing suits, standing guard and forming a tight, square perimeter around a stone bench facing the shrine. There’s one man sitting down.

  Akuma Oji.

  As we approach, the two guards facing us turn their attention our way. They instinctively reach inside their suit jackets, presumably wrapping a hand around a gun. Ichiro holds his hands up slightly.

  “We are here to see Mr. Oji,” he says. “He has agreed to meet with us. We are not armed.”

  The guards don’t break their formation. We walk to them and both lift our arms. We’re quickly frisked, which I would usually take issue with, but this probably isn’t the time. I doubt I could effectively take these four guys out in my current state anyway.

  Happy we don’t have any weapons, they allow us to step between them before relaxing back into their position.

  Ichiro and I stop in front of Oji and face him. He’s not what I was expecting at all. He’s wearing a long, dark overcoat and a scarf, which does nothing to hide the powerful frame beneath. A charcoal-gray suit is visible underneath it. His passive expression hides his years. I believe he’s in his late fifties, but he doesn’t look any older than me. He appears calm and collected. His position of power has bred a lifetime of patience. Beside him on the bench is a takeaway cup. Steam is rising from the hot beverage inside it.

  Ichiro bows slightly. “Mr. Oji. Thank you for agreeing to meet with us on such short notice.”

  Oji doesn’t move his head. He simply adjusts his gaze, so it’s directed at him. “No need to thank me. You paid for it. Make it quick.”

  His voice is deep and deliberate. I can see how this guy could be intimidating to the people around him.

  Ichiro takes a moment to compose himself, shuffling on the spot. I’ve never seen him this shaken before. There’s a fine line between respect and fear. He’s treading it carefully.

  “Mr. Oji, you are no doubt aware of what Tetsuo Kazawa and his organization did to my associate here,” he begins, gesturing to me with his hand. “A bold and reckless move that joins a long list of dishonorable practices that family has brought to our world.”

  Oji doesn’t move. He betrays no emotion. If he was wearing sunglasses, I’d swear the guy was asleep. The only sign he’s paying any attention was when his gaze briefly flicked to me.

  “What is your point, Ichiro?” he asks.

  “I believe it is time to re-establish the honor and traditions of the generations before us. I believe Tetsuo Kazawa’s time is at an end.”

  The corner of Oji’s mouth curls with the slightest of movements. “You believe, do you? This is your opinion, yes?” He looks at me. “Not his?”

  I’m trying not to take offense at his tone and overall demeanor. Too much is at stake for my principles to ruin it now. But still… he’s a bit of a dick.

  Ichiro clears his throat. “Mr. Oji, I can—”

  Oji raises a hand, instantly silencing him. He takes a slow sip of his drink, crosses his legs, and looks at me.

  “Our mutual friend is this city’s diplomat,” he says to me in perfect English. “I have genuine respect for him, but diplomacy often gets in the way of desire. So, tell me, Adrian Hell, what brings you here? What is it you desire?”

  I glance over at Ichiro. His eyes are bulging in their sockets, silently screaming at me to not say anything that might get me killed and thrown in the lake behind me. I take a long moment to think about my response. Perhaps I should tread carefully. Apply a modicum of diplomacy, as Ichiro would. I need this guy’s help, after all.

  Then again, he did allude to not being a fan of diplomacy. And I’m certainly not. Besides, what’s he going to do if I offend him? Kill me? Huh. Without his help, I’ll be waging war on a Yakuza family pretty much by myself… I’m dead anyway.

  Screw it.

  I look Oji dead in the eye and shrug. “I want Tetsuo Kazawa dead and his business in flames. And I’d quite like you to help me do it.”

  Oji nods and takes another sip of his drink. He looks idly at the surroundings before briefly closing his eyes, seemingly to relish the freezing wind as it washes over him.

  “I saw what happened to you,” he says finally. “Most people did. I hear things. I knew Kazawa was behind it. I knew his little plaything was the one in the video, torturing you. I can understand you wanting revenge, or justice—whatever you feel better calling it. And with your reputation, Mr. Hell, I suspect your retribution will be something to behold. But why would I wish to get involved? Kazawa is a stain on this city, but he is a powerful and stubborn one. I did not get where I am today by starting fights with powerful enemies unnecessarily.”

  I shrug. “I could give you the logical, diplomatic argument, if you’d like?”

  Oji smiles. “Sure.”

  “You like to think of your family as number one in this city. And you have a pretty good claim to that top spot. You have more legitimacy than any of the other families. You have more police and politicians in your pocket. You have the respect of almost every other organization in Tokyo. Except Kazawa. He’s in the number two spot. Maybe. See, I think the two of you are closer than you care to admit. I think you’re threatened by him because he doesn’t consider himself bound by the same code as you, which makes him unpredictable. This is your opportunity to get rid of the competition without getting your hands dirty. It’s a win-win for you.”

  He nods, processing my, frankly, brilliant case. “You are correct, Adrian Hell. You have an impressive grasp on this city’s political landscape.”

  I shrug. “I don’t know politics, but I know criminals. No offense.”

  “So, that was your diplomatic reason, yes? What’s your honest one?”

  I look over at Ichiro again, but he’s given up. He’s standing tall, but his shoulders are slumped forward, and his gaze is fixed on the ground at his feet. He looks like a man who has resigned himself to the fact he’s about to die.

  I look back at Oji. “Honestly? You already knew the diplomatic reason, because you’ve already tried to have Kazawa killed. He inadvertently took out one of your business partners, and you couldn’t believe your luck, could you? A legitimate reason to go after the sonofabitch. But that didn’t work out. I’m giving you another reason now. I’m gonna rip that bastard’s heart out. I’m gonna burn his empire to the ground, and this city along with it if I have to. Sure, I’ll probably die in horrible and bloody fashion
, but not before Kazawa and his girlfriend do. That’s a cast-iron guarantee. You get your only real competition taken out, and it doesn’t cost you anything except a few men and a friendly request to your pet police officers to stay out of my way. This is good business, Mr. Oji. Plain and simple.”

  He sips his drink. Points his finger at me. “Answer me this, Adrian. What makes you think I’ve tried to have Kazawa killed before? That would be a risky move, especially if people found out I was behind his demise.”

  I take a breath. Set my jaw. Clench my fists inside my pockets. In for a penny…

  “I know because your man, Santo, tried to hire me to do it.”

  Oji stares at me. His eyes are hard, like stone. The wind has stopped. Complete silence surrounds us, as if the air itself is frozen with horror. Only the penetrating cold remains, gnawing at my face.

  “Santo is dead,” he replies.

  I nod. “I know.”

  He shifts a little in his seat. I feel the men around me bristle.

  “And how do you know that?”

  “Because someone else hired me to kill him . He didn’t know that when he requested a meeting with me. I put a bullet between his eyes.” I pause, quickly checking the four guys haven’t moved. “Sorry.”

  Oji stands and squares up to me. He’s a little shorter than I am. Probably the same build though. “You come here under the guise of a friend, ask for my help starting a war, and then tell me you killed one of my best men? I didn’t take you for a fool, Adrian Hell.”

  “If Santo was one of your best men, you have bigger problems than Kazawa. The guy was a cowardly piece of shit with delusions of grandeur. He loved playing gangster but didn’t want to get his hands dirty. He would’ve bent over for the highest bidder and sold you down the river in a heartbeat. I know the type. I did you a favor.”

  Oji snaps his fingers. The four men rush to his side. I’m suddenly faced with a line of very angry-looking Yakuza soldiers. I take a small step back and raise my hands slightly.

  “Hey, you wanted honest…” I say.

  Oji nods. “I did. And I respect you for providing it, despite your situation. Some may think you foolish. But I see honor where they would see stupidity.”

  “Umm, thanks.”

  “As a reward for your candor, and out of respect for your reputation, I am willing to let you leave here alive.”

  He holds my gaze for a long, painful, awkward moment before walking away. His men follow, forming a box perimeter around him as he heads in the opposite direction from where we came in.

  Ichiro and I exchange a confused look.

  “So, will you help me?” I call after him, knowing I’m pushing my luck.

  He doesn’t look back.

  “Enjoy your war, Adrian,” he shouts. “I can’t wait to see how it ends.”

  I let out a heavy sigh and watch him go until he’s out of sight. Ichiro moves in front of me, his eyes wide with shock. “What now, Shinigami ?”

  I shake my head, partly in disbelief and partly because I have no real answer for him. “Now, my old friend, we are fucked.”

  25

  21:06 JST

  It hasn’t been a good day.

  After breaking the news to Collins and Ruby that Akuma Oji essentially told me to go screw myself, they de-briefed me and Ichiro on what they had learned from scoping out Kazawa’s skyscraper.

  The lobby is apparently teeming with street soldiers, poorly disguised and obviously armed. There are also multiple innocent civilians, as we suspected. He rents the building out to local businesses of varying sizes—everything from start-ups with a three-person call center to multi-national banks. Which makes it the perfect place to hide in, because he has thousands of human shields if need be.

  It’s a real dick move, but I guess it’s the kind of thing you have to take into account when dealing with cowards.

  So, it’s almost impossible to even get in the front doors with hostile intent, and if you somehow do, every target is hidden behind an innocent life. Convincing anyone that a full-frontal assault on a building like that when you’re this outnumbered is the best option isn’t the easiest sell. I had a hundred ideas about how to do it, and almost all of them would’ve ended badly. That included scaling the outside of it. I’m in neither the physical nor mental condition to take the Fear Factor approach.

  Collins had a few suggestions, but they ultimately relied too heavily on GlobaTech reinforcements, which we can’t guarantee.

  In the end, we all agreed on a simple strategy: find a good vantage point, bring lots of guns, try to lure the bad guys out a few at a time, and pick them off until we can make it inside. Then, sweep floor by floor until I have my hands around Kazawa’s throat.

  Not the best plan. Not the easiest plan. But it’s the only one that made sense. Patience and violence will prevail.

  Sadly, I was only blessed with an abundance of one of those things.

  The skyscraper itself stands on the point of a large intersection in one of the ward’s busiest districts. A circular street with six offshoots. The two opposite the building, at four and eight o’clock, lead south, away from the heart of Chiyoda and back toward the river. The roads at nine and three o’clock do much the same, with the left spoke taking you to Shinjuku City and the right leading you away toward the river, as the others do. The roads at ten and two o’clock form a triangle as they meet in the middle, and it’s at this junction where Kazawa’s skyscraper towers ominously over the streets.

  The four of us are standing directly opposite, huddled behind Ichiro’s car, parked discreetly in the shadows of a wide alleyway between two buildings that border the intersection to the south. The rain has been relentless most of the day, battering the city and forcing the temperature down at the same time. It’s wet and freezing, and, all things being equal, I’d rather be in Hawaii.

  “Is this gonna work?” asks Ruby, shouting slightly over the combined noise of the weather and the steady flow of nighttime traffic.

  I glance across the street at the two men guarding the main entrance to the lobby. Both stand almost against the wall, well under the canopy that juts out above the doors, presumably to shield themselves from the rain as much as they can.

  “I have no idea,” I reply, perhaps a little too honestly. “But it’s the only plan we’ve got, so we gotta make the most of it.”

  “And why didn’t the Oji family want to help us again?” asks Collins. “Surely, it’s just common sense?”

  I shrug. “To you and me, it is. But apparently, pride takes precedence over logic in these parts. What can I say? At least he’s not trying to kill us as well.”

  “Which is a goddamn miracle, by all accounts. Why ’fess up to killing his man?”

  “A show of good faith, I guess. I figured it was best to be honest with him. Apparently, I was wrong.”

  Ruby and I are dressed as we were when we attacked the Octopus Bar two nights ago: head-to-toe in black. Long coats conceal multiple weapons. My face mask is in one of my pockets.

  Collins paid a visit to the Tokyo branch of GlobaTech earlier. Buchanan had seen to it that he was given whatever he asked for without question. He had returned wearing dark fatigues with a modern, digital camouflage pattern on them. The GlobaTech logo is displayed over the left breast.

  He also brought with him more guns than I’ve seen in quite a while.

  I wasn’t too bothered, as I’m more than happy with my matching Raptors. Ruby, however, was ecstatic. It was nice to see her acting more like her old self again. Less restraint. Less responsibility. The last few years have changed her. Mostly in a positive way, but I always felt she had lost some of the spark from her eyes. They used to glisten with life, like emeralds in firelight, whenever she was faced with danger. I remember seeing it when we first met, when I busted her out of that nuthouse.

  Christ, that feels like a lifetime ago.

  She’s been through a lot since then, as we all have. She’s grown. Mellowed, even. But you
put her in a room full of guns and tell her to take and use whatever she wants… she’s like a kid at Christmas.

  Ichiro is also dressed for combat. Gone are his flamboyant robes and loose-fitting pants. He’s wearing his own all-black ensemble, and it makes him look half his age. He’s been very quiet all day though, and even now, he’s gazing into space more than he’s contributing to any conversation. I suspect telling him he looks good will be little compensation for losing his livelihood for ultimately no reason and returning to the life he had left behind.

  Still, he’s armed to the teeth, so I think he’s made peace with it all.

  I look at each of them in turn, waiting for the nod of confirmation.

  Collins.

  Ruby.

  Ichiro.

  I take a deep breath, holding it for a long second before exhaling slowly. I let my head roll back, sending my gaze skyward, allowing the wind to spray the rain across my face. The building is illuminated, like a beacon in the night sky.

  Somewhere up there, obscured by low, dark clouds, is the enemy. Tetsuo Kazawa and Miley Tevani. Those two have come closer to killing me than anyone before them, and they’ve beaten me down in a way I’ve never experienced in all my life.

  And yet, here I stand.

  Sure, I ache like hell, I’m bruised pretty much everywhere, and bits of me are still broken that I never knew could break. But I’m still here.

  Ruby isn’t the only one who’s mellowed. I’m not getting any younger—no secret there. But since Josh died, I haven’t had the same desire… the same passion I once had for dealing death to those who deserved it. I put it down to being tired. I told myself I was finally doing what Josh had spent years begging me to do, which was enjoy the fortune I’ve amassed over the years.

  But that wasn’t it.

  The truth is, I’ve grown complacent. I was long overdue for a wake-up call, and fuck me, did I get one! Well, the fires are stoking once more. The demon that lay dormant for too long is now awake, locked behind my door and pacing impatiently, desperate to be unleashed like the caged animal he’s always been. And these two pieces of shit have been banging at that door constantly for almost a week.