Killer of Killers (29 page)

Trent rubbed his brow. “Yeah, well, I didn’t
know it either. And now it’s too late.” Just then it occurred to
him that the incident at Susie’s apartment must have taken place
after
Samantha arrived on the East Coast. “You didn’t follow
me here to talk about any of this, did you?”

“You’re right,” Samantha said. “There’s more
I need to tell you, and I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again.”
Her eyes assumed a mystical charm and seemed to ensnare Trent. He
tried to escape her enthralling gaze but couldn’t. He wasn’t sure
if it was a natural attraction, or was it that damn drug?

The server returned with their order, but
after he left, Samantha ignored the food. “Trent,” she began, “if
Soriah is out of the way, Karl Manoukian will arrange for a
government distribution program. He agrees with you. He doesn’t
want a monopoly of the formula. This serum is more than a fountain
of youth. It’s more than a bodybuilding steroid. It holds the key
to prevent disease, Trent. Can you imagine? No more cancer. No more
sickness. That’s why it’s so important for us to retrieve the
data.”

“You really think it’s all that?” Trent
asked, ever the cynic.

“The FBI and their researchers are still
working on it,” Samantha conceded, “but so far it really seems to
be.”

“I heard Soriah wants to help children. Do
you believe that?”

“Children? It doesn’t even work on children.
Who told you that?”

“Never mind who,” Trent answered. “I should
have known better.” He turned his head and viewed a mother with her
child. “Obviously, an anti-aging serum is intended for adults, but
you keep talking about cancer and disease. So what about kids?
What’s in it for them?”

“The little ones...” Samantha pouted. “Maybe
some derivative could help children if they cared to develop one,
but that’s not what they’re working on. What Soriah wants is to
create his super race and then watch the rest of the world age,
suffer, and die, while he sits back and cares not in the
least.”

Trent nodded, but there was something else in
her eyes, in her expression, in the sound of her voice. He knew
women, and he knew there were different words on her mind. A second
time he reached for her hand and spoke. “Samantha, I know none of
this is what you’re here for. What is it? What’s really going
on?”

“You’re right, again,” Samantha said. She
closed her eyes. “I followed you here because I’m in love with
you.” Her eyes reopened, flooded with tears. “For the first time in
my life, I’m in love.” She put her free hand to her forehead. “I
couldn’t let you vanish without telling you that.” Her tears began
to fall.

Trent was caught in the moment. A year ago he
had walked away from Yoshiko, and just yesterday he watched Susie
die in his arms. Without thinking, he responded, “I love you, too,”
and held both of her hands with both of his.

“You do?” A look of hope flashed across
Samantha’s face.

“Of course, I do,” Trent replied, still
unsure if the feelings were real. “But you have to forget about
me.”

“What? Why? You tell me you love me, and then
the next thing you tell me is to forget about you?”

“You know what I am, Samantha. I’m a killer.
That’s what I do. How can we have a meaningful life together?”

“You’re a killer of killers
only
,”
Samantha reminded him. “What about when you’ve killed all the
killers? Won’t you be able to stop killing then?”

“There will always be murderers walking free,
even without your drug around. The only person who can take them
off the street is me, and that’s what I’m going to keep on
doing.”

“But why?” Samantha’s tone was increasingly
anguished. “Why is it so important to you?” Before Trent could
answer, she calmed herself and asked, “Does it have something to do
with Yoshiko?”

Trent perked up at the mention of the name.
“Yoshiko?”

Samantha reached into her purse and pulled
out a photo. “I’m sorry, Trent, this belongs to you.”

Trent glanced at the photo. It was Yoshiko’s!
“How... Never mind.” He slipped the photo into his shirt and
studied the tabletop. Then he looked up, resolved to lay out the
facts. “Not long ago, I was the champion of the Japanese circuit. A
gaijin
from America. It was a first, you know. I was also
the highest-ranking sensei at the Tokyo Dojo. A
gaijin
from
America. That never happened before, either.” He cast his gaze afar
as he recalled the past. “Almost every man in Tokyo loved Yoshiko.
But she loved only me. The
gaijin
from America.”

Trent looked at Samantha again, but felt his
anger on the rise. “And then the celebrity killers began their
killing,” he snarled, “here in
America
. And it never
stopped. Every time another spectacular murder took place, the
Japanese media sensationalized it, and the people were horrified.
Soon, Americans in Japan were scrutinized, like they were a part of
it. Like they were connected to it somehow.
I was ashamed to be
an American
.”

“But they knew you had nothing to do with
it,” Samantha reasoned. “Didn’t they?”

“You don’t know the Japanese. They can be
very... Well, let’s just say they can be very elitist. I thought I
had overcome their prejudice long before. You said I was well
respected in Japan. You’ve got to understand that in Japan, respect
isn’t easily achieved. They live in an idyllic society, and the
constant brutality being reported in the States was beyond their
comprehension. Add to that the rampant corruption that resulted in
murderers walking free each and every time. They became fearful of
anything American. Even me. As if I might lose control and
kill
one of them like some kind of
lunatic
.

“Then one day I fought my best fight in the
circuit. They called it
The Green Eyed Tiger versus The Chinese
Dragon.
I had him beaten, or so I thought, but he tricked me by
playing possum. When I released him from a
Tatsumaki Shime
,
he reversed the move and took me down. I might have lost then, but
I broke free, too. When I managed to reapply the hold, this time I
didn’t let up. He almost died. After that, no one would fight me.
To them, I was just another murdering American. My time in the
circuit was finished.”

“What about the Chinese Dragon?”

“Actually, he wanted to fight me again. It
never happened, but the people loved him for it, and they started
calling him
The Chinese Dragon Who Fears No Man.
He’s the
only one who never believed I tried to kill him.”

“Then what happened?”

“Shoji found out, that’s what. He never
followed the underground circuit, because he disapproved of the
Budo
arts being used in competition. He believed it was a
frivolous application of my skill.”

“What about Yoshiko? She still loved
you.”

“I had to come home. I had to take care of
this. The law wasn’t going to settle with these murderers, and I
made it my business to see to it that someone did. Yoshiko would
have understood.”

“Would she, Trent? Are you sure about
that?”

Trent lowered his gaze and crumpled his brow.
He really wasn’t sure at all. “Well,
you
understand, don’t
you?”

Samantha closed her eyes and responded,
“Trent, I know the world has its problems, it always will. Justice
will find its way again. We have to believe it.”

“Samantha, it doesn’t matter what we believe.
The
world
believes America is the land of murder and the
home of corruption. I know. I saw it in their eyes. I felt it in
their hearts.”

“So who cares what they believe?
We
know the truth.”

“The
truth
?” Trent’s voice seethed.
“The
truth
is the courts have become a
farce
.
Innocent women and children are
butchered
. The press turns
it around. They tell us to feel sorry for the
killers
who go
free to live their lives as if nothing ever happened.

“Meanwhile, their victims rot in graves
forever
. That’s the only eternity
they’ll
ever get.
It’s not right. But I can
make
it right, and I won’t rest
until every walking murderer gets what’s coming to him.”

“I understand,” Samantha said. “But is it
only
the murderers you live for? Killing the killers?” Her
voice was breaking. “Do you plan on killing forever?”

“Forever?” Trent scoffed. “Not if it means
shooting up drugs like everyone else seems to be doing.”

Samantha narrowed her eyes, and her
expression turned smug. She asked, “Then who’s going to kill the
killers after you’re gone?”

Trent had no answer.

“You see,” Samantha continued, with her tears
flowing freely and her words mixed with sobs. “It doesn’t matter.
You’ll kill the killers now, but one day you’ll die, and the
killers will keep on killing. Nothing will change. It will be as if
you never existed.”

Unable to escape Samantha’s logic, Trent saw
fit to concede the point. “All right then. And if I
did
live
forever?”

A fleeting smile traced Samantha’s mouth, and
she trained her eyes onto Trent’s. After several moments, and with
the conviction of a solemn vow, she replied, “Then I’ll wait for
you, forever.”

Reaching his heart, just as Susie had done,
and Yoshiko before her, Trent was a believer. But not in a miracle
drug. He was a believer in love. Although Susie’s murder hurt
immeasurably, he didn’t want to let this moment pass without making
it count. Twice before he couldn’t respond to those exact words, so
this time he would while he still had the chance. “Well, I can’t
say I’ll live forever, but I’m alive right now, and as long as I
am, I’ll be loving
you
, Samantha Jones,
Police
Detective
.”

“Just as I’ll be loving
you
, Trent
Smith,
Killer of Killers
.”

Trent wanted the moment to last forever, but
he was a realist. He knew the chance of a normal life with the
goddess across the table was next to nothing. He wouldn’t stray
from his agenda, and he was grateful Samantha understood that. She
was a policewoman, after all. Having an ally in law enforcement
would be a valuable asset. He dared to hope it was a good omen.

A black limousine pulling up to the curb
diminished that hope. And more so when three men wearing black
suits and ties emerged. After they stepped onto the sidewalk, the
limo drove away. The taste in Trent’s mouth soured because all
three were super heavyweights. Also, they were dark-haired and
olive-skinned, much like the two men he dispatched the day before
at Susie’s place. Trent wondered if they were relatives of those
men or more Soriah Specials sent by the white-haired billionaire.
It could be they were both. “I don’t believe this,” he said.

The largest of the black-suited giants led
the others into the restaurant’s patio. He reached into his coat
and bared a handgun. The men behind him did the same. Most of the
diners seemed oblivious to the incursion, and those who saw them
seemed frozen in shock. Finally, a woman screamed, and a man
pointed while shouting, “Those big guys, they have guns!”

Shrieking people ducked under tables, and
others backed away.

Thinking quickly, Trent snared the hard
plastic surface from his tabletop, dashing his breakfast aside, and
flung it like a giant discus with all of his might. The circular
surface slammed into the lead man’s midsection just as he fired the
first shot. Seeing him floored and his partners assisting him,
Trent spared a glance to Samantha. She was clutching her stomach
with both of her hands. “I’m all right,” she said. “Don’t let them
hurt anyone.”

Trent turned back to the gunmen, screening
out the crying and frenzied crowd. The two men who were still
standing stopped assisting their fallen comrade and commenced
shooting. By this time, Trent had lifted the small table by its
center support and shielded himself while rushing toward them. The
men stood their ground, squeezing off round after round, even as
the table’s metal surface deflected every shot. Charging past
shouting patrons, Trent rammed the table into both shooters,
knocking them back and over the waist-high wall. He dropped the
table on top of them.

Some pedestrians ran away, but most of them
didn’t seem to recognize the imminent danger they encountered.
Apparently, they preferred to remain and watch. “What’s the matter
with you people?” Trent hollered. “Get out of here!” But his
warning was useless as the onlookers seemed more entertained than
fearful of the perilous circumstances. Before Trent could utter
another warning, one of them yelled, “Look out, that one’s gettin’
up!”

Inside the wall, the lead man was struggling
to his feet, and he again raised his pistol. This time, Trent was
within striking distance. Bullets fired into the air as Trent swung
the man’s arm over his head, twisting it with both hands. In the
same motion, he turned his back against the shooter’s chest,
forcing the gun-hand downward. Additional shots embedded the
pavement until the brute stopped shooting and wrapped his free arm
around Trent’s neck. In response, Trent jammed his elbow into the
man’s solar plexus, ousting the wind from his lungs and the pistol
from his hand. Trent kicked the pistol away and then flipped the
hulking body with a textbook
Seoi Nage
, but the clutching
giant brought Trent down with him.

Trent committed to the fall and landed on top
as they crashed at the base of the wall. He spun over the man’s
barrel chest and shot his fingers through the corners of his jaw.
The double strike pinched the dual transverse cervical nerves,
sending the man into a brief paralysis.

Meanwhile, the two men outside the wall had
recovered and threw the cumbersome table out of their way. They
stepped up to the wall, held their pistols over it, and began
firing indiscriminately. People ran helter-skelter, screaming
throughout the patio, trying to avoid being hit. Flat against the
bricks, Trent’s blood boiled, knowing someone could be killed by
their reckless shooting. It seemed as though the gunmen didn’t even
realize he was directly beneath them.