Cajun Justice(74)

“My sister’s been kidnapped.”

“Have you told the local police?”

“Yes. They weren’t interested.”

“A gaijin getting kidnapped in Japan is big news. Why weren’t they interested?”

“She worked at the Angel Cloud—”

“So, I was right. This story does involve a prostitute.”

Cain’s face flushed red. “My sister is not a prostitute. And if you say that again, your diplomatic immunity is not gonna help with your newfound hospital bills.”

“Relax, man. I didn’t mean anything by it. Just thought it might ease the tension.”

“Let’s not,” Cain replied.

“Japan’s a safe country—one of the safest. I’m sure there is a misunderstanding, and we’ll find your sister.”

“Everyone touts how safe this place is, but when I tried to report a genuine violent crime, the police didn’t give a damn. They just cited policy and procedures.” Cain’s voice started to rise. “They’re more concerned with appearances than with substance.”

“I sympathize with you. I really do. The Japanese take perfection and bureaucracy to a level I’ve never seen before. Investigations here can take years.”

“I’ve got hours, not years! I can’t even get the police to start an investigation.”

“I feel your pain. It’s frustrating for me, too. Trust me. That’s why I’m just biding my time here, and then, inshallah, I’ll be back in the Middle East. That’s where the real action is.”

“The action is right here, in your backyard! But nobody is doing anything about it. The yakuza kidnapped my sister because I got into a fight with three of them at the Angel Cloud.”

“Well, now this story is making a little more sense to me. The Japanese police, well, they’re scared of the yakuza. Their congress implemented tough laws recently, yet when a yakuza warehouse was raided, they found pictures on the wall of police officers with their families. It was a loud message to stay clear, or else the yakuza would come after their families.”

“There are over nine million people in Tokyo. I need some help here. There’s no way I can find Bonnie by myself—even if she is a blond-haired gaijin.”

“Do you have any leads?”

“One of the guys I fought at the Angel Cloud was named Watanabe.”

“Watanabe?” Mr. Rose scoffed. “That’s like Smith in America. I’m sorry, I can’t help you, sir. I wish I could. I’d love taking some American justice and shoving it down the yakuza’s throat. But my hands are tied up in the political and diplomatic sensitivity of being strategic guests in Japan. You know: with China and North Korea just next door.” Mr. Rose opened his desk drawer and grabbed a stack of business cards. He flipped through them. “Here’s the card of an American reporter. He comes by often to interview me and get information off the record. Not that I give information off the record.”

“I don’t need a reporter,” said Cain. “They just sensationalize everything. What I need is someone who knows the yakuza organization, their safe houses, their command structure, even their clubhouses.”

“Just take the card. Maybe it’ll help, maybe it won’t.”

Cain plucked the card from Mr. Rose’s fingertips.

“He’s a pain in the ass, but very hungry. Works all the time, and doesn’t mind getting his hands dirty. Someday we’ll be seeing him on CNN.”

Cain glanced down at the card. “‘Champ Albright the Third,’” he said aloud. I recognize that name. It’s the Stars and Stripes reporter Bonnie mentioned before. This is a sign, he thought. For a brief moment, he felt hopeful—as though fate was helping him.

“If I worked here,” Cain said with disgust, “there’s no way I’d turn away helping an American.” Cain pocketed the business card. “I’ll show myself to the door.”

“I’ll have to escort you out. This is a secure building.”

Cain stood to leave.

“Just remember,” Mr. Rose said, moving from behind his cherrywood desk. “This is Japan. They have strict rules. They will not tolerate a rogue gaijin disrupting those rules. They will kick you out of this country so fast and never let you back in. Never. Their collective memory goes back thousands of years.”

“I have no intention of being back in the news. Been there, done that. But I can’t promise you those who took Bonnie won’t be.”

A worried look came upon Mr. Rose’s face. “What do you plan on doing?”

“Cajun justice, Mr. Rose. Cajun justice!”





Chapter 57



Cain was furious when he left the embassy. The lone American flag that had blown in the wind had been taken down for the night. Cain walked down a street he didn’t recognize, passing the Spanish embassy on his way toward Roppongi. Compared with the fortified American embassy compound, the Spanish embassy looked more like a modest office building. Outside its gates was a framed poster highlighting a Picasso painting depicting a bullfight. The bright, multicolored artistry popped out among the otherwise gray and dull neighborhood. I bet they would have done more to help one of their countrymen. Political and diplomatic sensitivity, my ass!