The Last Assassin (19 page)

A
HALF HOUR LATER
, two of Kuro's people escorted a nervous-looking Taiwanese man into Kuro's office. Kuro's staff had already mopped up the remarkable quantities of blood the sumos had lost and laid out the enormous bodies on plastic tarps. The next step would be to take them to a food preparation establishment friendly with Yamaoto's organization, an establishment with heavy equipment used in more ordinary circumstances for grinding fish into fishcake.

The Taiwanese saw the bodies and flinched. When he looked over at Kuro's desk and noticed the actual heads propped up there, he turned and tried to flee. Kuro's men blocked the door.

“Do you recognize these men?” Yamaoto asked in English.

The man struggled for another moment, to no avail. He turned and looked at Yamaoto, his eyes wide, but didn't answer.

“Do you recognize these men!” Yamaoto shouted, but still the man was mute.

Kuro repeated the question in Chinese. After a moment, the man stammered, “Y-Yes. I recognize.”

Yamaoto nodded to Kuro. Kuro took out his mobile phone and input Big Liu's number. He handed the phone to the Taiwanese.

For someone who had been reluctant to speak a moment earlier, the man was suddenly garrulous. He let loose a torrent of agitated Chinese, his eyes darting from the heads to the bodies to Yamaoto and back again.

After about a minute, he returned the phone to Kuro with a trembling hand. Kuro gave it to Yamaoto, who raised the unit to his ear and said in English, “This is Yamaoto Toshi.”

“Okay, very good,” Big Liu said. “You kill bad men. Big Liu happy. But still missing money. And Big Liu men still dead.”

“Yes,” Yamaoto said. “And we should talk about all of that.”

“Okay, talk.”

Yamaoto didn't like to be issued commands, but decided it was better to attribute the construction to a faulty command of English and let it go for now.

“I killed those men because there was no other way to avert a war,” he said. “But I don't believe they were responsible for what happened at Wajima. They claimed there were two men there who shot them with tranquilizers. And if they really were the perpetrators, they never would have come in. They would have had escape plans in place and they would have used them. So there is a leak in one or both of our organizations, or worse, a collaborator. We need to discuss this and try to figure out who.”

“Tran…tran…” Big Liu said, and Yamaoto realized the man hadn't followed anything after the word tranquilizer. He handed the phone to Kuro and said, “Translate what I just told him.”

Kuro complied, then gave the phone back. Yamaoto said, “You see? We really should talk about this face-to-face. May I suggest my associate Mr. Kuro's club in Minami Aoyama in Tokyo? Whispers, you may remember it's called. I think it would provide the right setting.”

Whispers was Kuro's most lucrative and high-class establishment, staffed by stunning women from all over the world. It was the very club where they had sealed the current supply arrangement, and Big Liu had been so overwhelmed by the beauty of the hostesses that he had stayed in Tokyo two extra days and taken a different blonde back to his hotel every night. Yamaoto sensed that the allure of another all-expenses-paid trip to the club would be enough to bring Big Liu around.

“Big Liu still missing money,” the man said, holding out. “And Big Liu's men still dead.”

“My men are dead now, too,” Yamaoto said, “although I suspect they were as blameless as yours. Blood has been repaid with blood. As for the money, I'm certain we can reach an accommodation. We're reasonable men, after all. Won't you be my guest in Tokyo for a few days?”

There, push back on Big Liu's attempts to squeeze Yamaoto for the missing money and restitution, but without an actual no. And a sweetener that Big Liu could tell himself was a concession: confirmation that all aspects of Big Liu's trip, including, doubtless, another stay in a suite at the world-class Grand Hyatt in Roppongi Hills, suitable for after-hours entertainment by multiple blond Whispers hostesses, would be complimentary.

“When?” Big Liu asked.

Yamaoto smiled. “Whenever would be convenient for you. But I would propose that sooner is better.”

“Saturday,” Big Liu said, after a moment. “Busy before then.”

Yamaoto shrugged. Maybe Big Liu really was busy for the next three days. Maybe he was just trying not to seem too eager, to maintain the appearance of control. Yamaoto didn't particularly care. The main thing was that he was coming. If they sat down together, Yamaoto was confident they could work out what had happened, then settle this in a reasonable way.

“Saturday, then,” Yamaoto said. “I'll arrange a suite for you at the Grand Hyatt.”

“Good,” Big Liu responded, and Yamaoto could feel his eagerness. “Thank you. Yamaoto good man. Good friend.”

Yamaoto detested these sorts of false protestations of friendship between business partners who would as happily kill each other if that's where the profit lay, but sometimes they were called for. “Yes, and so is Big Liu,” he said. “I'll leave it to Mr. Kuro to sort out the details, and will look forward to seeing you on Saturday.”

Yamaoto clicked off and handed the phone back to Kuro. And suddenly, for the first time since the sumos had told him their story, his mind flashed on a possible explanation:
John Rain.

He paused to consider, but then dismissed the thought. How would Rain get access to the particulars of the Wajima meeting? The man was formidable, but he wasn't supernatural. The more likely explanation was the simpler one: a turncoat, either in Yamaoto's organization or Big Liu's, working with people outside, and motivated by nothing more complicated than greed.

Besides, Rain was still in hiding. There had been no sign of him in New York, where Big Liu's people were watching Midori and her child and where Yamaoto expected Rain would resurface if he resurfaced at all.

Now that he thought of it, though, he realized Chan in New York was overdue to call him. Ordinarily the man checked in at least once a week to update him on the New York surveillance operation, but now Yamaoto realized he hadn't heard from Chan in, what…eight days? Nine?

Chan had been late once before, but Yamaoto had told Big Liu about it and there hadn't been a problem since. He imagined Chan didn't like reporting to a Japanese, but that's what he was getting paid for, and Yamaoto was irritated that the man was being lazy and disrespectful again.

If Big Liu had still been on the phone, Yamaoto would have mentioned it to him. But there had been more pressing things on his mind just then. Well, it wasn't a material thing, just an annoyance. If Chan had anything to report, presumably he would have done so. Yamaoto would mention it to Big Liu when they met on Saturday. They'd straighten it out then.

He heard Kuro saying,
“Kumicho,”
and realized the man had been trying to get his attention.

“Yes,” Yamaoto said, looking at him.

“Shall I…shall I have them taken away?”

Kito and Sanada. It was a shame he had needed to dispatch them. Most likely they were guilty only of incompetence, not of betrayal. They had come to him hoping for mercy, and look what he had been forced to do instead.

“Yes, take care of it,” he said to Kuro, with a dismissive wave.

He walked out to the club entrance and signaled to his bodyguard, who was waiting inside. The man went out and checked the street, then returned and escorted Yamaoto to the Mercedes, waiting with its back door open just in front of the entrance.

On the ride home, Yamaoto thought about what he was going to do next. One thing he knew for sure. Whoever was behind what happened in Wajima wasn't going to go quickly, like Kito and Sanada. No. This one would suffer before he died.

W
E MET KANEZAKI
that night at a coffeehouse in Roppongi. We watched from the van to make sure he was alone, then followed him in. Dox carried the duffel bag with the gear Kanezaki had lent us.

Kanezaki had his back to the wall and saw us when we came in. If he was surprised to see us together, he didn't show it. Good for him.

We sat down. Kanezaki smiled and said, “Yeah, I had a feeling.”

Dox grinned. “How've you been, Tom?”

“Not bad. You?”

“Ah, you know. Staying busy. Keeping the world safe for democracy, that kind of thing.”

“I'm afraid to ask what that's been entailing.”

“Hell, you know most of it.”

“And what I don't know isn't going to hurt me, is that right?”

“Look,” I said, “we just wanted to return your toys. Thanks for lending them to us.”

He raised his eyebrows. “That's it?”

I looked at Dox, then back to Kanezaki. “Yeah. That's it.”

Dox slid the duffel over to Kanezaki's chair.

We were all quiet for a moment. I knew Kanezaki had been hoping for information, his life's blood, and that he would be frustrated at not getting it. I waited for his next move.

“How do you like Japan?” Kanezaki asked, with a nod at Dox.

“It's all right. I like the ladies a lot. I keep asking my friend here to take me to see some geishas, but he won't do it. You know where I could find some?”

I thought Dox might be laying on the country bumpkin routine just a bit thick, but it seemed to have the desired effect. Probably despairing of getting anything via a more circuitous route, Kanezaki said, “I hear they have geishas in the countryside. On the Sea of Japan.”

“Sea of Japan?” Dox asked. “Sounds far just for a little entertainment.”

Kanezaki looked at Dox, then at me. “All right. Are you guys going to tell me what the hell you pulled in Wajima?”

I looked at Dox. “Do you know anything about Wajima?”

Dox knitted his brow. “Wajima, Wajima…you know, it rings a bell, now that you mention it. Yeah, I might know something. Maybe.”

Kanezaki was starting to look decidedly nonplussed. This was the moment I was waiting for.

“Yeah, we might be able to tell you something,” I said. “But that would be a favor, wouldn't it?”

There was a long silence. Finally, Kanezaki said, “All right. In return for the favor I did you in getting you the equipment. And then quits.” He smiled a little. “Until next time, anyway.”

Next time,
I thought,
is coming sooner than you expect.

“How did you know?” I asked. I was pretty sure I already had the answer, but I wanted confirmation.

Kanezaki shrugged. “The GPS transmitter. I knew the code, so I just followed it using the mapping software to see where you went. Looks like you spent the night in Wajima. The same night three United Bamboo triad guys were shot to death on the beach there.”

Yeah, that's what I'd been expecting him to say. It was probably true, too.

Dox grinned. “Hell of a coincidence.”

Kanezaki nodded. “Yeah, and they were shot with forty-five-caliber rounds. That's a strange coincidence, too. Because those HKs I outfitted you with are forty-fives.”

Dox's grin broadened. “A drug deal gone bad, would be my guess.”

“Why?” Kanezaki asked. “Was this just a straight ripoff? Is that what you guys are doing now?”

Dox snorted. “With the wages you're paying me, son, it's a wonder I don't turn to a life of crime.”

“No, it wasn't a straight rip-off,” I said.

“Then what?” Kanezaki asked. “You trying to start a war between the yakuza and the triads?”

“What if someone were? Would you object?”

“No. I'd like to see them all snuff each other out, in fact. But I'd want to know about it.”

I thought for a moment. Kanezaki could already place us at Wajima. If he wanted to sell us out to the triads and the yakuza, I supposed he could. I had recognized that potential problem from the moment I first considered going to him for the equipment we needed. It was unfortunate, but unavoidable under the circumstances. You can't get something for nothing. Not anywhere, but especially not in this business.

“I think at this point you can trust me,” Kanezaki added, when I still hadn't responded.

I looked at Dox, who nodded, then back to Kanezaki. “All right,” I said. “And you can trust us, too. To hold you responsible if something goes wrong, before or after. After all, no one else could have known. You sure you want that responsibility?”

Kanezaki nodded. “I'm sure.”

“Then here's the way it'll work. We need a sniper rifle. You provide it. We return it when we're done. At which point we give you a full accounting of what's really going on.”

“And we hold on to the night-vision equipment in the meantime,” Dox added. “And those HKs, too.” He looked at me. “Might come in handy.”

A long moment passed. Kanezaki said, “No.”

Damn, I thought that in the heat of the moment Dox's “spontaneous” request would slide right past him. Apparently not.

No one said anything for a long time. I waited, thinking Kanezaki might crack.

He didn't. Part of me was impressed. In just a few short years he had really matured. I wondered if it was Tatsu's influence.

Finally I said, “What do you mean, ‘no'?” And even as I said it, I knew that in speaking first I had ceded him the advantage.

“I mean, if you want to keep the existing gear and have me outfit you on top of it, you're going to owe me something more than just information in return.”

I looked at him, but he didn't blink. He knew that right now I needed him more than he needed me. It didn't feel good, but there was nothing I could do about it.

I closed my eyes and nodded. “Deal,” I said.