Cajun Justice(55)

Mr. Sato grabbed a pack of Marlboros from his desk drawer and lit an imported cigarette.

“Those things will kill you,” the doctor said.

Sato took a drag and slowly exhaled the smoke. He looked Cain directly in his eyes and nodded. Cain could practically read his thoughts: The gaijin was better than he had expected.





Chapter 45



The following morning, Cain was back at his office. He had been working steadily on improving security for Mr. Sato. At Cain’s request, his team assembled in the break room to debrief the ambush from the previous day.

“I’ve got good news and bad news,” Cain said. “Which do you want to hear first?”

“The bad news,” one of the security officers said.

“Okay,” Cain replied as he scanned the room. “The bad news is—wait! We’re missing a team member. Where is Nakamura-san?”

Nakamura was one of the guards who had recently been hired. The room was silent. No one on the team said anything. Cain looked at Tanaka. “What’s going on? Where is Nakamura?”

Tanaka stood and answered with his head hung low. “He has resigned.”

There was an audible gasp in the cramped room.

“The attack scared him too much,” Tanaka continued. “He said he is suffering nightmares from it.”

Cain thought about his own nightmares, about how Nakamura was not alone. “This profession is dangerous. Each of us could lose our lives, and yesterday proved that. But there is honor in courage.” He raised a clenched fist into the air to inspire his team. “Cowards die many times before their death, but the brave taste death only once.”

The room filled with the sound of his team members clapping in admiration. When they stopped clapping and cheering, Cain asked, “What was I saying?”

“The good news and the bad news,” Tanaka said.

“Yes! That’s right. Well, the good news is that even with one member gone, this room is getting more cramped for us to meet in since we’ve increased our manpower.”

“And the bad news?” Tanaka asked.

“Yesterday’s coordinated attack on Sato-san was a reminder of the seriousness of our business. Now you can understand that there is a method to the gaijin’s madness.” Cain pointed to his chest. “We didn’t prevent the attack, but we prevented our boss from getting killed. Now is not the time for overconfidence, though. We can’t ease up and let our guard down. Yesterday’s attack could have been much worse. Imagine if there would have been just one more motorcycle with an Uzi-wielding attacker. We might all be pushing up daisies right now.”

Cain’s audience had a collectively confused look, and one of the guards raised his hand and asked for clarification.

“Pushing up daisies means we’d be having this meeting in heaven.”

“In Shinto, there is no heaven,” the security guard said.

“But there is reincarnation in Buddhism,” Tanaka-san said.

That started a religious discussion among the guards, who were normally much more reserved.

“Religion and politics,” Cain muttered under his breath. He tolerated the discussion for a few more seconds, his eyes darting back and forth; he didn’t understand a word the guards were saying. Then he continued, “Team, we’re getting way off topic. The bottom line is that we should expect and be prepared for more attacks.”

One of the guards stood and bowed before asking his question. “Who is responsible?”

“For the attack?” Cain asked.

“Hai.”

“When the police tell me, I’ll let you know.” Cain was hesitant to express his belief that it was the yakuza. He understood that just muttering the word yakuza scared people throughout Japan. If the security guards felt they were up against the Japanese mafia, he’d have a hard time keeping them on the payroll. A man will throw himself in the line of fire for his country’s supreme leader, Cain knew, but finding people to do it for a businessman was a whole other struggle.

Tanaka had brought in a copy of the Japan Times, an English-language publication.

“You’re a hero,” Tanaka announced in front of the group.

“Only in my mom’s eyes,” Cain replied, trying to diffuse any praise. “Hand me that paper.”

The front page showed a picture of Cain, with bloodstained hands, with Mr. Sato in the back of the tattered Nissan President. The headline, in one-inch bold print, read THE GAIJIN!

“Seriously?” Cain said. “We saved his life, but that picture looks like I’m about to kill Sato-san.” He began to read the story underneath the headline: “Exiled American Secret Service paid to protect Sato…” Cain rested his forehead in the palm of his hand. I knew the scandal had made international news, he thought, but damn! It’s like getting sprayed by a skunk: you just can’t escape the stink.

The guards laughed, to Cain’s relief. Hopefully I can keep them motivated and working as a team. “Of course they would have to print that picture, and not the one of me helping get broken glass out of Umiko’s hair,” he said, and shook his head with embarrassment. “My sister already called me this morning to rub it in. She said I looked like a wild animal, and that I perfectly embodied the gaijin stereotype. I tried to explain to her that the blood was from providing lifesaving first aid to Sato-san.”