Collector of Secrets (52 page)

Then there she was, chalk-colored but clearly alive.

But the smaller
Yakuza
was holding her hands, keeping her captive. Max sprang at the man, who responded with ferocious speed, and before he could blink Max found himself pinned.

Between hacking coughs, Tomoko barked at them to stop as she pulled her hands free. She grabbed the
Yakuza
’s
shoulder, and Max’s mind reeled with confusion as he watched the battered man obey her command and move back.

Max rose to his feet and pulled her close, feeling her hesitate before squeezing hard in return. The painful splendor of the moment flooded his senses as he kissed her perfect dusty lips and her tears spilled down, mixing with dirt and running onto his cheeks. But there was no time. Gunfire and the clapping flash of another grenade brought them instantly back to the moment.

“We need to go.” He squeezed her hand and pulled. Together, they staggered through the fog in what he hoped was the right direction.

To his amazement, the barricade at the cliff’s edge appeared and then the distant rolling sea. Night was falling fast. The last rays of sunlight cut shimmering lines across the rolling water. The clear air was fighting a back-and-forth battle with the manmade fog.

Looking back, Max saw that Tomoko was holding the injured
Yakuza
’s sleeve, pulling him along like a bloody, unwilling accomplice. “What are you doing?” He shouted, making no effort to hide his shock and anger.

“Hiro’s not evil. I can explain—” Tomoko’s partially finished sentence twisted in terror as a scream replaced her words.

Max turned to follow her horrified gaze. From the barricades’ opposite end, out of the smoke, Thick Neck’s bald head came fully into view. His lips twisted into a demonic grin as the rest of his massive bulk followed. Flexing his hands with anticipation, he moved calmly beside the clifftop barrier. Max edged backward keeping Tomoko sheltered behind him. His eyes flicked around wildly, hoping for a miracle, but the only two places to go were toward the smoky gunfire or over the steep cliff’s edge.

P
ositioned at the back of the group, Hiro leaned into Tomoko’s ear, speaking so that only she could hear the words. “You were right that I need to show courage. Now save yourself.” Hearing the calm in his voice she felt a swell of panic as she tightened her grip, knowing what he was about to do. “No!” But his sleeve slipped from her grasp as he charged from behind, throwing himself at his former apprentice.

“Noooooooo!”
Her scream rang out while Max struggled to block her from joining the uneven battle. The vicelike grip of Jun’s massive hands clamped around Hiro’s neck and lifted him into the air, his legs thrashing as his fists swung wildly at his opponent’s face.

The huge arms flexed and twisted, followed by the sickening crackle of bone— and the kicking ceased almost instantly. Distant machine-gun fire masked the body’s fall to the ground as she watched the open, lifeless eyes staring skyward.

LOST IN a private world of self-pity, Yoko wandered down the bare service hallway toward the exit at the end. She barely noticed when the rain-soaked wind yanked the rooftop door from her hands, slamming it violently against the building’s exterior.

Forty stories below, the twinkling lights of Tokyo made her dizzy, and she caught her breath. It was almost enough to make her change her mind, but she knew this was the only option left, and she hoped it wouldn’t be painful. Reaching into her handbag, she clutched her cell phone. A finger hovered over the speed-dial button while cold, wet spray swirled in from outside.

Her mind flew back to the moment she’d stepped on the plane bound for America. That day, so many decades ago, had also been rainy and cold. Was it an omen of things to come? If only she’d never gone to Dallas, but had instead turned and run for the safety of home. It was the wish for a larger life—a world filled with excitement and glamor—that had been her undoing. She’d tried her best, but the deception and negligence of others had ultimately doomed her. She’d worked to build a good life, but instead had fallen victim to unfair people and unjust circumstances. It wasn’t her fault.

Lifting the phone to her ear, she waited until Masami Ishi’s voicemail asked her to leave a message. The tone of her voice conveyed her unreserved hatred. “The game is over, Masami-
kun
. You’ve lost again, and the only prize you’ll be receiving is the recording I took of you and me speaking in my office. The video has been delivered to the National Public Safety Commission. I think they’ll be very interested in the evidence of your illegal activities. Good luck with your retirement. You may not need as much money as you expected.” She powered down the phone.

Water was pooling in the gravel on the sidewalk-wide ledge; it splashed as she stepped outside. Raindrops bit at her exposed cheeks and soaked into her Chanel suit. She edged sideways with her back pressed against the building’s exterior. Fear suddenly overwhelmed her, and she considered turning back. But the wind grabbed the door, slamming it shut, locking her onto the ledge.

It was surely a fateful sign.

Her last hope was that Max felt badly for his betrayal. Closing her eyes she leaned forward, dropping like a dark meteor toward the thick shrubs at the building’s base. This was usually the moment when she would stir in bed and the nightmare would abruptly end, but this time it was real, and there would be no awakening.

DRUNK WITH power, Thick Neck stepped over Hiro’s shattered body while slipping the
Surujin
chain from a pocket and began to spin it, slowly at first, but then with increasing speed.

Half standing, half crouching, clutching a broad stick he had found in one hand, Max braced for the inevitability of the moment. He heard himself shouting to Tomoko,
“Run!”
But the sobbing noise behind him wasn’t moving. He wanted to turn and hold her, to relieve her incomprehensible pain, but he knew he didn’t dare break his concentration. Thick Neck seemed to be reveling in the moment, savoring the attack. The chain whistled as it picked up speed.

The deadly weighted end shot forward. Max ducked his head while striking violently upward with the stick. The wood splintered into a thousand pieces, the metal ball grazing his skull as it arced back along its path for another try. The chain shot forward once more and the ball crashed against the remaining stick, blasting his only defense and impacting violently against his skull. He cursed and stumbled sideways, momentarily blinded from the blow, catching himself against the concrete barricade.

Thick Neck’s rumbling voice taunted him.
“Itaime-ni?”

Pain tore savagely at Max’s head, but he managed to look up. It would only be a matter of moments before the final driving lunge. The man’s enormous muscles flexed in preparation. Then, astonishingly, the ball and chain slipped to the ground and rolled into the dissipating mist. Thick Neck screamed as he clutched first at one leg, then the other. Through blurry vision, Max watched the gangster drop to his knees, his eyes growing saucerlike, staring at the blood surging between his fingers.

Lloyd Elgin stepped from the misty cloud, both guns leveled at the
Yakuza
’s head. He leaped masterfully into the air and delivered a bone-jarring roundhouse kick to the face. The big man’s head wobbled before his eyes rolled upward in a faint, and he slumped to the ground.

“Pathetic.” The cone-shaped filter covering Lloyd’s mouth and nose muffled his voice. He pulled the mask down to his chin. “Enough play. We’re getting the hell outta here.”

Max watched in stunned awe as Lloyd rolled more canisters across the ground. The smoke grenades exploded, strengthening and pushing out the edges of the white cloud. He could still hear distant gunfire and although he was disoriented, he wondered who was doing battle if Lloyd was standing right next to him.

“Police,” Lloyd said, his trained ears evidently having picked up the approaching sound of sirens long before anyone else heard them. Max barely acknowledged the warning as he moved forward and knelt down. Tomoko was huddled, weeping over the dead
Yakuza
’s shattered body. She held the wounded face and gently kissed his forehead.

Has she lost her mind?
Max found himself wrapping an arm around her shaking shoulders. “Tomoko! We’ve got to go. Please!”

Lloyd twisted furiously and blasted both guns into the dense haze. A man’s voice cried out and then fell silent with a groan. The guns pointed back in their direction, accompanied by an expression of rigid determination. “You get her moving, or else.”

“She’ll go—just give her a second.” Max pulled Tomoko upright despite her sobbing resistance. Moving back into the smoke, they followed Lloyd, who was squeezing into the bushes ringing the cliff’s edge. The branches clawed and scratched, but they pressed on for a dozen steps until the rocky edge of the Suicide Cliffs lay before them.

Lloyd stood inches from the rim. Cracking a chemical glow stick, he tossed it to Max. “Give me some light, but keep it low.” Lying on the ground, he reached over the edge and hoisted up a hidden duffel bag. From inside, he retrieved a length of rope and three harnesses. “Get these on, quickly.”

Tomoko’s hands shook as she took the device and stared at the buckles and loops. Her tears cut vertical trails through the white powdered residue on her face, lending it a sad
Geisha
-like quality. “I―I don’t understand. Who are you? What is this?”

Max already had his harness half on. “I think I know what we’re doing. You have to put it on. There’s no time.” He looped the buckle at his waist. “We’re going to rappel. It’s a backdoor escape.”

“No,
no
!” Tomoko’s voice rose and she gripped Max’s arm in a vice. “It’s too high up! I can’t.”

Lloyd growled while fashioning “draws” into a makeshift anchor. “Either she’s ready by the time I am, or we leave her behind.”

Max calmed his breathing and held open a single leg loop. “This man is Lloyd Elgin,” he whispered hoarsely. “I don’t know where he came from, but the letters in his name rearrange to spell the words Golden Lily.”

Lloyd was busy attaching carabineers to the anchor.

Max continued, “He knows about the prince’s diary, and he wants it. The deal was that we get you back in exchange. If we don’t go with him . . . he’ll kill us both.”

Tomoko met his eyes. He could see she wanted forgiveness, and his voice suddenly became fierce. “I don’t care what’s happened. I’m not leaving you here.”

Twigs cracked and leaves rustled in the bushes back toward the clearing. Somebody was still hunting. Tomoko stared intently into Max’s face, searching, before finally lifting first one foot, then the other, placing them through the harness’s leg loops.

Lloyd tossed the rope over the edge and attached an unusual-looking metal device before activating and passing over two more chemical sticks. His green eyes seemed to glow with superhuman intensity as he spoke. “Squeeze here to drop down. Release pressure when you need to stop. We’ll all be close together, so once you find the bottom, get out of the way fast. Who’s first?”

“Me. I’ll show her how to do it.” Max stepped forward and clipped the device onto his harness as he peered into the black abyss, hoping the fear he was feeling wasn’t showing on his face.
He swallowed hard before beginning to rappel down the uneven stone wall, slipping quickly below the cover of the tree line before vanishing altogether.