Blood & Tacos #3 (2 page)

“Please remove your clothing.”

He shrugged off his blazer. “Easy money for you,” he said, pulling a roll of yen from his pocket.

She slipped the front of her robe open without hesitation. A pale nipple peeked out.

“No, no,” he said. “I just want to ask you about someone.”

“You are … police?”

“The furthest thing. Sit down.” He patted a spot next to him on the mattress.

She sat. Her hands, he noticed, glistened with massage oil. “There was a girl working here not long ago. Sachiko. Part Chinese. You remember her?”

The woman shook her head. “I’m very new.”

“What about the other girls? You think they might know?”

“I can ask. You’re the only customer for the moment. The rest of the girls are out back, having a smoke.”

He peeled off several thousand-yen notes. “Show them that.”

She took the money, bowed, and left.

He waited less than three minutes. The door slammed back open and a pair of broad-shouldered, dead-eyed men wearing loud Polynesian shirts burst in. Viper, half-expecting such a welcome, shot off the mattress and kicked the first one in the throat. He bent double, and his partner threw a reverse punch Viper could’ve seen coming through miles of fog. He sidestepped, looped a hand under the man’s armpit. Twisted at the waist. The heavy flew six feet and crashed into the folding table.

Viper ducked out into the hallway. A slender man barreled towards him, tugging an automatic from his linen suit. The sight of the gun caused time to slow. Between heartbeats, Viper flicked the six-inch tanto from his belt and hurled it overhand. The blade seemed to tumble lazily, taking an eternity to bury itself deep in the gunman’s wrist. A jet of bright red sprayed from his ulnar artery and doused the prints along the walls.

“Stop!”

Now a second man was coming down the hallway; tall, with a shaved head and a golden earring dragging at one lobe. Behind him, the old Korean woman and Viper’s would-be masseuse watched with terrified eyes.

“Viper Ogata,” the man said, “I’m Kanbei Kana. Do you recognize me?”

Viper nodded. “Underboss to the Okajima clan.”

Kanbei drew a handkerchief from his pocket and clamped it around the gunman’s spurting wrist. “I suggest we call a truce.”

“Agreed.” Viper glanced into room 102. The thug he had hip-thrown swayed to his feet. Beside him, the first heavy clutched at his neck and breathed with gurgling noises.

“I see you live up to your reputation,” Kanbei said, a note of approval slipping into his voice. “You went through these three like they were bean cakes.”

Viper shrugged. “I doubt if you would’ve been so easy.”

“Who can say? But I’m assuming you didn’t come here to start a brawl.”

“Someone killed my friend. A working girl named Sachiko.”

“Sachiko. Yes.” Kanbei yanked the knife from his underling’s wrist. The man groaned, and pressed the blood-soaked handkerchief tighter. “She was a top earner here at the Egret. A good girl. You and I should speak in private.”

Ignoring the scowls of Kanbei’s men, Viper followed the underboss into a back room. Several chairs were arranged around a battered table, with a teapot in the center. Kanbei poured two cups of pale emerald liquid. He sipped and watched Viper for several moments before speaking.

“Sachiko’s is only one of several recent deaths here in Shinjuku,” he said, his broad face hardening. “All prostitutes. Three of them were with the Okajima clan, but there have been independents killed as well. It’s affecting the girls’ morale.”

Viper tasted his tea. Gyokuro, the finest quality. “Some kind of sex-killer?”

“I understand that’s the usual motive in these cases. But I was able to examine two of the bodies myself, before police arrived. Let me show you what I found.”

He excused himself and returned to the room moments later holding a square of folded cloth. Inside, the wicked shapes of shuriken gleamed.

“Lodged in the girls’ throats,” he said. “Both had been smeared with poison.”

Viper recalled the dart jutting from Sachiko’s neck. “A professional assassin.”

Kanbei nodded. “I thought maybe another yakuza family had been behind the killings, to disrupt business. But your presence here seems to contradict that.”

“Boss Gomyo has no interest in prostitution. He sticks to gambling and loans.”

“Gomyo.” Kanbei made a face. “That fat old carp. Listen, Viper, why don’t you ditch him and work for me? Boss Tsutomo values skilled fighters. Gomyo’s old-fashioned and treats his men like dirt.”

“That may be true, but he’s still my boss.”

“Screw that ‘jingi’ crap. I’ll pay double what he’s giving you.”

Viper set his cup down, hard. “I shared sake with him. What kind of man would I be, if I went back on my oath?”

Kanbei’s eyes narrowed, like he was sizing Viper for a punch. He ran his finger along the bridge of his crooked nose. Gradually, some of the tension left his jaw. “You’re right. Honor has its place. But perhaps in this case we can still work together. Avenge Sachiko’s death and put a stop to these killings.”

“Go on.”

“There’s one establishment in Shinjuku seemingly unscathed by the murders. The Red Pagoda, a love hotel run by a madam named Pinku Serizawa. She’s quite the mystery woman. None of her in-house girls have been touched.”

Pinku Serizawa. The name struck Viper as familiar, but he couldn’t recall details. “What are you proposing?”

“An investigation. You could enter the Pagoda the same way you entered here, posing as a client. Mari could go with you.”

“Mari?”

“The girl you were questioning.”

Viper mused over the idea. “What about the cops? You’ve got a couple on your payroll, surely.”

“They claim to be following all leads. But you know the police. We yakuza are not bound by crippling restrictions.”

“True.”

“I could have several cars full of men surrounding the hotel. At a signal from you, they would come swarming inside.”

Viper drained his tea. “A mixture of deception and overwhelming force. I like
this plan. I like your spirit, Kanbei Kana. My only stipulation is this: we
act at once.”

They took a taxi from the Resplendent Egret parlor. Mari had changed into a tight-fitting denim skirt, white satin blouse, and knee-high black leather boots. She crouched in the cab’s cramped space next to Viper. The driver had given him a knowing leer when he named his destination.

Traffic slid by, swimming through a haze of rain and smog. Mari leaned her head against the passenger window. “You must’ve really loved this girl,” she said.

“Love?” Viper frowned. “We screwed a lot, in the beginning.”

“But you’re risking your life to avenge her.”

“I considered her a friend.”

“Just a friend?”

He had to think about it. “When we met, we were young and had a sense the world was using us. As time went by there was less physical contact but more … intimacy. It was a strange relationship.”

“You’re a strange man, Viper Ogata.”

“Yes. And now you risk your life for Sachiko’s death, too.”

“I’m not afraid.” She wedged herself tight beside him, nuzzling her soft lips against his neck. “I feel like the safest woman in the world.”

Twenty minutes later they pulled up to the Red Pagoda. Four stories of curving eaves, each smaller than the one below it. Fuchsia neon blurred the raindrops clinging to the cab window. Viper paid the driver and helped Mari out. The rain had stopped, but the air still felt slick, like warm grease. There were several discrete entrances along the ground floor. No windows, he noticed, except at the top. That could make signaling someone outside a problem. He scanned the street, wondering when Kanbei’s backup would arrive.

“Not sure I like the looks of this,” he said.

“C’mon.” Mari tugged his wrist towards an entrance, her expression mischievous.

A wall of colorful lit panels dominated the lobby. Each one depicted a room, decorated in a particular fetishistic theme. There were rooms made up like Osaka bars, rooms done in blue with polyurethane waves crashing above the bed, rooms crammed with pinball machines …

“I want this one. It’s got a horse.” Mari stabbed a button beneath a panel. The panel went dark.

A frosted glass window lit in the adjacent wall. It slid up several inches and a pair of elderly hands reached out, to gesture at a placard hanging alongside. The placard gave hourly and overnight rates.

Viper counted out enough yen for a night’s stay. The hands whisked the money away, to return moments later with a key. Their room was on the second floor.

“Do you have anything with a view?” Viper asked.

The window clicked shut.

Mari hummed a pop song as she nudged him to the elevator. The doors opened before she could hit the button, spilling out a balding executive-type with a slim black woman on either side. The girls were doing their best to hold him upright. He grinned at Viper through a sake haze. “You’ve got to try the Savannah Room,” he said. “Real grass. It sways in the breeze and everything.”

He wobbled off.

The second floor had thick carpeting, lit by ankle-high strips of purple neon. Viper found their room easy enough.

The first thing he noticed was the horse, impaled on a candy cane–striped pole jutting from a round bed with fuzzy pink sheets. Mari clapped her hands together. The horse looked like it had been salvaged from a children’s carousel. A black leather saddle covered with chrome studs hugged its back.

He turned to lock the door. When he turned around again, Mari had shucked out of her blouse, denim skirt, and panties. She still wore the boots, though. She’d found a riding crop from somewhere and smacked the weighted end against her palm.

“What’re you doing?”

“We’re in a love hotel, aren’t we? Don’t tell me we’re just going to watch TV.”

“This is an investigation.”

“Sure it is. Come over here and investigate, already.”

“What the hell.” Viper took off his blazer and unbuttoned the silk shirt underneath. Mari cooed when she saw the rainbow of irezumi tattoos circling his shoulders. He slid the tanto out of his pants. “Can I get a drink, first?”

“You’re going to need it.”

Midway during the performance, she reached up and tried to tug the sunglasses off his face. He pushed her hand back down against the sheets. Gently.

“I’ve never known pleasure on such a scale before.” Perspiration beaded Mari’s pale skin and soaked the bed.

“It was … creative.”

“Where did you acquire such stamina?”

“Martial arts training.” He propped himself up on one elbow to check the time. Two hours had passed. “Tell me what you know about Pinku Serizawa.”

She pouted. “Back to business?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“I’ve only heard a couple things. She’s strict with her girls, but they’re very loyal. And she wears a veil. Some client cut her face when she was first starting out. That’s the rumor, anyway.”

“Do you think she could be the killer?”

“Can’t say.”

Viper massaged his lower back. “I’m not sure how to go about this. Sneak around the building? See if I can get one of Pinku’s girls sent up here?”

Feminine laughter echoed through the room. Startled, Viper whipped his head around. The laughter hadn’t come from Mari.