The Samurai Inheritance (31 page)

She paused and once again Jamie caught the driver’s eyes on them in the rear-view mirror. He wondered if the curiosity was concern for a passenger’s welfare or something more sinister.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I still don’t see how believing you knew what happened in Nanking in ’thirty-seven prompted you to come along with me. Especially when there was no way you could have known your grandfather’s, er, remains even existed.’

‘It wasn’t about his remains.’ The dark eyes shone as if they were on fire. ‘I knew about Yoshitaki’s obscene competition to behead a hundred people and I learned about his trip to Berlin through Uli. After China he served in the Solomon Islands and I wasn’t even certain he’d survived the war.’ She shook her head. ‘When you came to a museum and asked about the Bougainville head it was as if a vital piece of the jigsaw of my life had fallen into place. I could never have afforded to go to Tokyo even if I’d known where Yoshitaki’s descendants live. What better way than to accompany Jamie Saintclair on his mad quest for an obsessed mining tycoon.’ She wiped a hand over her eyes. ‘Ever since I learned how Johannes died I’ve been desperate to find out
why
. He was thirty years old. My grandmother was only twenty. She would have joined him in Nanking, but for the fighting, and the fact she was pregnant. I wanted to know what kind of person could do such a thing to such a courageous and compassionate man. Well, I had my answer when I saw the look in that woman’s eyes when she stood over you with that bloody awful sword.’

‘All right.’ Jamie suppressed a shiver as he relived the kiss of the blade on his neck. ‘I accept that, but I’m still curious. If you knew all along that the answers lay in Tokyo, why did you let me go gallivanting around Russia?’

Magda hesitated as a police car flashed past in the opposite direction, intermittently lighting up the interior of the taxi. By now they were crossing the city’s famous Rainbow Bridge and the lights of the towers were reflected in the dark waters of the bay. He saw a moment of confusion in her eyes.

‘I couldn’t
know
, Jamie, not for certain, but I believed. But how could I divert you? When you got the call to go to Russia instead of Japan I could hardly stand up and shout, “No!” You’d have thought I was mad, or worse trying to sabotage your mission. No, you had to go to Russia, for your own peace of mind, if nothing else.’

He couldn’t help smiling. It was difficult to equate what had happened in Moscow and Siberia with peace of mind. ‘And now?’

‘Now,’ she said decisively, ‘I’ll take my grandfather home and lay him to rest, but first …’ Jamie opened his mouth to protest, but she silenced him with a finger on his lips. ‘No, Jamie, no arguments this time. You’ve helped me do what I needed to do. Now I’ll help you. Whatever it takes.’

He stared at her for a long moment, taking in the determined line of her jaw and the certainty in her eyes. She was right, he couldn’t do it alone, and there were worse things than going into a fight with Magda Ross at your back. ‘Okay,’ he agreed. ‘But you do exactly what I tell you this time. No little freelance jaunts into no man’s land.’

‘Guide’s honour.’ She smiled.

The car slowed as they reached the man-made island the Ariane ferry terminal shared with the Odaiba Marine Park. When they reached the terminal building, Jamie paid off the driver while Magda went inside to check the sailing schedules.

She met him in the doorway. ‘I don’t think this will work, Jamie. The first sailing to Okinawa isn’t for another two days. Maybe we should try somewhere else?’

‘Don’t worry,’ he reassured her. ‘I’ll fix it. You keep an eye on our friend there.’ He nodded to where the driver was still counting his money.

He went to the ‘A’ Line desk, where a girl in a red and white uniform cheerfully booked him a first-class two-bed cabin for the Thursday sailing and charged him fifty thousand yen of Keith Devlin’s dwindling cash for the pleasure. The transaction completed he went to the side door furthest away from the official taxis and was pleased to see his hunch was correct. Before joining Magda at the door he withdrew the maximum amount possible on Devlin’s credit card from one of a bank of ATM cash machines.

‘Well?’

‘He’s been on the phone ever since you left. He seems quite agitated and he keeps looking in this direction.’

‘Good.’

‘
Good?
It means they know where we are.’

‘No. It means they think they know where we are. Let’s go.’ He led her to the side door and out into the chill air, wishing he still had the jacket he’d started the night with. About fifteen cars of varying age, manufacture and state of preservation were parked along the road with their drivers smoking or chatting beside them. As they walked towards the line of unofficial taxis the drivers came forward smiling and offering their prices in pidgin English. ‘Tell them no thanks.’ Jamie grinned. ‘We want that one.’ He pointed to an ancient grey Honda in the centre of the line. A young man leaned against the bodywork wearing a New York Mets baseball jacket and a Yankees cap.

Magda managed a smile as she fobbed off the other drivers and pointed to the Honda, whose young driver was as surprised as anyone at their choice. The other men laughed and took the decision in good humour.

‘What are they saying?’ Jamie asked.

‘That Kaichi will have us pushing his chariot before we get where we’re going.’

‘Let’s hope not.’

They got in the back of the car, placing the rucksack and Magda’s bag between them. ‘Ask him how much it will be to take us to the airport and when he tells you, offer him twice as much if he can get us there in twenty minutes.’ When he heard the terms the young man grinned and saluted. ‘Yes, sah.’

‘But there’s no hurry until we get out of the terminal gates.’

Magda’s request was received with a shrug. They pulled out past the line of cabs and turned the corner to pass the main door of the terminal. Jamie saw the first taxi driver still talking on the phone. ‘Kiss me,’ he said.

‘What?’

‘Kiss me.’ He pulled her down so their faces were below the level of the window.

‘I think that’s enough, Mr Saintclair.’ Magda pulled herself away with a wry look after they’d travelled a hundred metres. ‘Wouldn’t it have been perfectly acceptable just to hide below the door sill?’

‘No.’ Jamie grinned. ‘It had to look authentic.’

She punched him on the arm and the taxi driver leered in the rear-view mirror and said something that was neither English nor Japanese.

‘What did he say?’

‘I think he told us to get a room.’

For the first time in hours they were able to relax and sit back as the driver chain-smoked cigarettes and listened to what sounded like a snooker match as he weaved through the traffic. Magda asked if they could open a window and as she held the driver’s attention Jamie pushed the hammer and pliers under the front seat and surreptitiously dropped the guns out on to the road. They were passing the Wangan Road freight terminal and approaching the Haneda tunnel when Jamie’s mobile phone began to chirp. He checked the caller ID and before he refused the call Magda saw Keith Devlin’s name on the screen.

‘What was all that about?’

‘I think I’ve had enough of Keith Devlin pulling the strings. We have the Bougainville head and if he wants it that much he’s going to have to prove it.’

‘What do you have in mind,’ she said sweetly, ‘or are you going to surprise me again?’

‘Ask our friend here how much he wants for his jacket and cap.’

They entered the airport terminal building at Haneda separately and by different doors. Jamie had the driver drop him off just short of the entrance and told Magda to stay in the car until the last possible moment. When he entered the terminal he marched in, trying to look as if he owned the place, the way Americans of his acquaintance had a habit of doing. He chewed imaginary gum, kept his head up and his chest out. As well as the cap and jacket, their new friend had entered into the spirit of things by insisting Jamie take a pair of spectacles left in the car by a fare. It meant he had to peer in order to read anything, but the gesture and the broad-rimmed glasses aged him and added to the disguise. He headed for the escalator and took it up to international departures on the third floor. At the periphery of his vision he saw Magda attach herself to a group of Caucasians laden with luggage. He watched admiringly as she insisted on helping carry some of the smaller bags to the check-in area. While she stood among them Jamie made for the Cathay Pacific ticket desk. The departure board said the airline’s next flight to Hong Kong was due to board in three hours.

‘Two first-class tickets on the Hong Kong flight,’ he requested. The beautiful girl on the desk frowned. ‘It is a little short notice, sir, but of course we will do our best.’ Jamie waited, trying not to fidget while she checked her computer. The frown deepened, she chewed her lip, found a solution, and her face relaxed as she smiled. ‘You are fortunate we had a late cancellation and that poor passenger MacDonald who believes he is being upgraded will now find himself back in Business. Do you have any luggage to check in? No? Then have a good flight, Mr Saintclair.’ She handed over the tickets.

As he set off back towards the check-in desks Jamie noticed four Japanese men – standing in two pairs – studying passengers heading for the security gates. From time to time they’d glance down at something in their hands, presumably photographs taken by the video cameras at the Dragon Lady’s house. Jamie had intended they go through security separately, but the Yakuza seemed to have concentrated their watchers on the main security gate. The way they were deployed hinted they were there to snatch their quarry, not to kill, which meant Magda would be more vulnerable alone. He made his decision and went directly to her.

‘Stay close and don’t look anybody in the eye,’ he whispered.

He handed her the second ticket and steered her towards the almost empty priority line for First and Business Class passengers. Their passports were in a side pocket of the rucksack and he retrieved them as he reached the gate, with the scanners beyond. Would the scanners show the heads for what they were, or just a couple of shapeless objects? Magda must have had the same thought because as she was ushered through she cast a nervous glance back towards the watching men. The movement drew the attention of the man nearest them and his eyes leaped between the face that swam into his vision and the picture in his hand. By the time he’d made up his mind they were out of sight, but Jamie heard a quick-fire burst of Japanese that signalled they’d been spotted.

‘We’re not out of it yet,’ he told her. ‘The chances are they’ll have someone inside too. This way.’ Magda followed him down through the avenues of shops, bars and cafes until they narrowed into a corridor that led towards the main boarding gates. Dozens of men and women talking on phones, but none yet with the tense watchfulness that would spell danger. Suddenly, at the far end of the corridor, Jamie noticed someone who didn’t fit the pattern.

‘Keep your head down,’ he hissed.

The man was fifty paces away, talking into his phone and unashamedly studying every white face he encountered. Another few strides and he couldn’t fail to see them.

‘This way, honey.’ Jamie politely steered Magda to the right where, with a flourish of their tickets, they were ushered into the sanctuary of the First Class lounge. They were safe. For now.

XXXV

‘May I tempt you with a glass of champagne? Today we are serving the Dom Pérignon 2002.’ The Japanese hostess hovered beside the secluded booth overlooking Tokyo Bay.

Magda hesitated. ‘No thank—’

‘You should,’ Jamie encouraged her. ‘We might be here for quite a while.’

‘But those men …’

‘Won’t be able to reach us in here.’ He gave her a tired smile. ‘The Saintclair philosophy is that as long as you’re alive you might as well make the most of it.’ He saw her resolve weaken. ‘Two glasses please, and can you bring us the menu?’ Smiling, the hostess poured from the green and gold bottle, the liquid frothing gently into the narrow crystal stem.

‘To life,’ he said, lifting his glass to clink it against hers.

Her face dissolved into a disbelieving grin. ‘You really are the most infuriating, illogical …’ She gave up. ‘To life.’

‘May it be a little less eventful than in recent times.’

‘A sentiment I’d gladly echo.’ She took a sip of the champagne, wrinkling her nose at the exploding bubbles. ‘Except that with Jamie Saintclair around that seems a little unlikely. What time does our flight leave?’

‘The Hong Kong flight takes off in about two hours, but I don’t actually plan for us to be on it.’

‘But the tickets …?’

‘The tickets bought us sanctuary, a glass of champagne and a hot meal, but more important they bought us time. The men in the lobby and at security were here to abduct us if they got the opportunity, but their priority was to track us. By now they’ll know we’re holed up in here and booked on Cathay Pacific CX 6321, departing from Gate 112 at six thirty a.m.. They’ll be relaxed because they have us where they want us.’

‘Trapped,’ she pointed out.

‘Succinctly put.’ The hostess returned with the menus. ‘May we have another glass, please?’ He smiled at Magda. ‘You order for us both while I make a phone call.’

One and a half ring tones before it was answered. ‘Where the fuck have you been?’ An Australian accent; harsh with authority and a touch of threat, but not the mining tycoon.

‘You’re not Devlin. I only speak to Devlin.’

‘Jumped-up messenger boys don’t dictate to the boss. Do you have the head?’

‘Look, old son, somebody should have told you I don’t react well to threats. Why don’t you put Devlin on and go and work out your issues somewhere else? Either that or I can hang up.’

‘You don’t want to be doing that, Jamie boy.’ Keith Devlin’s rasping voice was full of chummy bonhomie, but Jamie felt the hair on the back of his neck rise like an angry cat’s. ‘Just a little misunderstanding.’

‘Sure, Keith. Just a little misunderstanding that’s supposed to remind me you have the heavy squad ready to wade in if I happen to get the wrong idea.’