PRIMAL Fury (The PRIMAL Series) (33 page)

CHAPTER 63

YAMAGUCHI-GUMI SAFE HOUSE, KOBE

“I’ve installed CCTV cameras at the front and the rear.” Bishop dumped a cardboard box on the bar. “They’re IR, so we’ve got coverage by day and night.”

They had decided to enhance the security of the safe house. The kidnap and subsequent murder of the Yamaguchi
waka-gashira
had revealed an enemy more sophisticated than they had anticipated.

“I’ve picked up all the feeds.” Saneh had set up a laptop and a wireless router on the bar. It was synced with the cameras Bishop had installed. “We can run watch from here.”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“What do you mean?”

“You want to have the nighttime sentry location behind a bar and you want Kenta, a semi-alcoholic gangster, to pull watch?” He raised an eyebrow. “Just saying, that’s all.”

“That’s a valid point. I’ll move it over by the couches.”

Bishop’s iPRIMAL buzzed in his pocket and he checked it. The onscreen map showed that Aleks and Kurtz were close. Kenta’s icon was farther to the west, where he was meeting with one of his sources. Bishop had loaded an application onto his phone so they could track his movements and communicate securely. “Aleks and Kurtz are a couple of minutes away. I’m going to go downstairs and let them in.”

“OK.” Saneh didn’t look up from the laptop.

Bishop climbed down the stairs and into the basement of the club. Saneh’s bike and the replacement for the GT-R, an ordinary-looking Toyota sedan, were parked against the back wall.

He watched the symbol denoting Kurtz and Aleks’s location getting closer to the safe house. It slowed and turned into the ramp that led down to the basement parking. Bishop activated the roller door and the white van entered and parked next to the other vehicles.

“Hey, boys, how the hell are you?”

“Boss, it is so good to see you.” Aleks grasped Bishop in a bear hug and lifted him clean off the ground. “I hear you have been having too much fun without me.”

“I’m sure you two have been having plenty of fun.” Bishop grunted as he dropped back to the floor.

“Kurtz! What’s up?” He extended his hand.

Kurtz shook it awkwardly. “I’m fine, Aden. I was wondering about Karla. Vance said you would be—”

Bishop was already heading to the back of the van to check the contents. “Mate, I’ll brief you in a few. Let’s see what Mitch has sent us.”

“I have the invoice.” Aleks handed him a piece of paper. “A lot of hardware on that list. Full CAT assault rigs for each of us, armor-piercing ammunition, surveillance gear.”

Bishop scanned the list, nodding approvingly. “We’re not just dealing with thugs here, boys. The Mori-Kai are rolling with submachine guns and body armor.”

“Former Special Forces, like the men that ambushed us in the Ukraine?” asked Kurtz as he helped unload the van.

“Yep. The team we ran into breached an armored Merc in under four minutes. They’re well trained and well equipped.”

“But they’re in trouble, now we’re here,” said Aleks.

“Yep, we’re going to hunt the bastards down. Find Karla and dismantle their entire operation.” Bishop checked a trunk marked with his name.

Kurtz stopped what he was doing. “Did you say
find
Karla? I thought you knew where she is.”

“Things didn’t go exactly to plan.”

Kurtz’s jaw clenched and his blue eyes narrowed. “What happened?”

“We followed them from the airport to another location. Karla and Masateru managed to slip out of the Yamaguchi cordon before we could bang in.”

“Where is she now?”

“We’re working on that. Chua’s team is crunching the data from the phone you pulled off Rémi. Once we locate Masateru, we’ll have Karla.”

“I told you we should have picked her up in the Ukraine,” Kurtz muttered to Aleks.

“That wouldn’t have helped anyone,” said Bishop. “We needed her to lead us to the Mori-Kai.”

“Except now we’re no closer and she could be dead.”

“This is bigger than one girl; think of all the other lives—”

“No, fuck the big picture, Aden,” Kurtz cut him off. “How many people have to die for your stupid missions? You got Jess killed, now Karla; who’s next after that, Saneh?”

“That’s enough.” Bishop’s voice was low. “You need to pull your head in.”

“Pull my head in?” Kurtz repeated, his face turning crimson. “You kill another innocent woman and you want me to pull my head in.” He stepped toward Bishop with his fists clenched.

“That’s enough.” Aleks grabbed him by the arm. “We’re all comrades here.”

“He’s not my comrade,” Kurtz spat. “He’s a self-absorbed fool.”

“You really want a piece of me?” Bishop squared off into a fighting stance. “Is that it?”

“ENOUGH!” Saneh’s voice echoed around the parking lot. “I leave you alone for two minutes and suddenly you’re acting like schoolboys.” She stepped off the stairs and strode across to the back of the van. “Aleks, can you help Kurtz take your personal gear upstairs? Bishop, a word please.”

“No problem.” Aleks grabbed a trunk. “Come on, Kurtz.”

Kurtz reluctantly broke eye contact with Bishop. “Hello, Saneh,” he said meekly as he removed his own gear from the van and carried it toward the stairs.

“Good to have you both here.” She gave them a smile.

Once they were alone Saneh turned to Bishop. “What the hell was that all about?”

“Kurtz, he’s obsessed with the girl. He’s a fucking liability. I want him off this job.”

“You can understand why he’s upset.”

“Yeah, that Hungarian woman he was sweet on. He got too attached, she ended up dead, and now he’s playing protector to another helpless damsel he knows nothing about.”

“Look,” said Saneh, “he and Aleks are a lot closer to this than you or I. Yes, it’s about Aurelia. But they’ve also rescued this girl and her sister twice now.”

“That’s not the point. The point is, I can’t trust him. He wants to run off and rescue every damsel in distress. I need operators who are calm and levelheaded, not loose cannons.”

“Loose cannons? That’s a bit rich coming from you, don’t you think? Kurtz is usually the most levelheaded person I know; maybe he just needs you to cut him some slack.”

The concern in Saneh’s voice dampened some of Bishop’s anger. “Maybe you’re right,” he conceded.

“I know I’m right. What he needs now is for you to be a leader. Aleks will look after him. You need to focus on the mission, and part of that is recovering the girl.”

Bishop grunted, grabbed Saneh’s kit bag from the van, and lugged it up the stairs.

Saneh shook her head as she followed him.

CHAPTER 64

LOVE ANGEL CLUB, DOWNTOWN KOBE

Kenta walked under the gaudy neon signs and up the red-carpeted stairs of the Love Angel Club. A bouncer dressed in a shiny polyester suit eyeballed him cautiously as he entered the dimly lit nightspot. He took a seat at the bar, caught the attention of the bartender, and ordered a whiskey.

“Your man is in the corner,” the Yamaguchi informant whispered as he sloshed the golden liquid into a heavy glass tumbler.

Kenta turned around and surveyed the poky establishment as he drank. The hostess bar was one of many in Kobe that serviced the city’s frustrated business elite. Bored with their wives and stressed by the intensity of their work, they came here to drink and meet girls.

The man his informant had identified was a regular; he was sitting in the corner with two of his friends. All three were dressed in expensive suits. Ties had been discarded, shirt collars opened, and now the executives were drinking and smoking. Kenta was surprised they did not have girls with them. He checked his watch: probably a little early for that.

He picked up his glass, walked over to the table next to the men, and lowered himself into one of the chairs. “Hey, bartender! Bring me the bottle,” he yelled.

A waitress scurried across to him with a bottle of whiskey and an ice bucket.

“You’re very pretty,” said Kenta. “Would you like to sit with me?”

The girl shook her head as she placed the bottle and ice on the table and retreated back to the bar.

Kenta laughed. “See, even the help doesn’t want to be with me. What hope do I have with my wife?”

The executives at the next table could not help but overhear the comment. “Maybe you need to drink more,” one of them joked.

“Fuck you,” said Kenta.

The other table went deathly quiet.

“Maybe you’re right.” Kenta filled his glass to the brim, tipped back his head, and threw the potent liquor down his throat.

The three executives burst into nervous laughter.

“Perhaps if I drink with you I’ll have more luck.” Kenta dragged his chair over to the group and thumped his bottle down on the table.

The man who had spoken thrust out a hand. “My name is Takeshi.”

Kenta shook his hand. “Kenta.”

The other men at the table introduced themselves and Kenta passed his bottle around.

“So you’re having problems with your wife?” asked Takeshi as he dropped a handful of ice in his glass.

“She’s fat and lazy, loves her food more than my cock.”

They all laughed and nodded in understanding. Before long the four men had ordered another bottle, swapping tales of debauchery as they drowned their frustration in eighteen-year-old whiskey.

Half an hour later, one of them took his leave. He shook Kenta’s hand and wished him luck. His colleague departed ten minutes later, leaving Takeshi and Kenta drinking on their own.

“We should get some girls,” said Kenta. The bar was now full and heavily made-up women had started mingling with prospective clients.

“Feel free,” said Takeshi.

“You’re not interested? Don’t tell me you prefer boys.”

“No, I just don’t like trashy Japanese moles.”

“Then you’re shit out of luck in Kobe,” laughed Kenta.

Takeshi leaned in close. “If you’re not short on cash you can fuck the highest-quality
gaijin
girls.”

Kenta’s eyebrows shot up. “White girls? Blondes?”

“Anything you want.” Takeshi grinned, showed him his phone, and flicked through photos of women. They ranged in age from early teens through to midtwenties. All of them were Caucasian, scantily clad, and had the glazed look of a drug addict.

“Very nice.” Kenta pretended to be impressed as he fought the urge to drive his fist into the man’s face. “How do you get girls like this?”

“Like I said, it’s very expensive. The people I use bring them to my apartment. Then I can do whatever I want to them.”

“Whatever you want?” Kenta took another sip from his whiskey.

“Yes, all of those things you would like to do to your wife but can’t.”

Kenta raised his eyebrows. “They let you beat them?”

“That’s the best part, they have no choice. They have to do everything you want.”

“So they are slaves?”

Takeshi smiled. “That’s exactly what they are. Slaves you can rent.”

“If they are
gaijin
how do you tell them what to do? I have a hard enough time trying to get my wife to do things, and we speak the same language.”

“Most of them speak English.” Takeshi tipped back his head and drained his glass. “I’m afraid I have to go now, my friend. Let me take care of the check and maybe we can drink again soon. Unlike you, I’m not married, so I’m here most nights.” He stood up, a little unsteady, and scooped up his jacket from the back of his chair.

“I’d like that,” Kenta said as they shook hands.

Takeshi swayed as he walked across to the bar and handed the barman his credit card.

“I need to see ID,” the bartender insisted.

The executive tossed his wallet onto the bar. “Call me a cab as well.” Once he signed the receipt he gave Kenta a wave and set off down the stairs to the street.

The Yamaguchi enforcer sat quietly by himself for a few minutes before leaving the table. On his way out the bartender passed him a slip of paper; he stuffed it in his pocket and walked outside to hail his own cab.