Cajun Justice(75)

Cain pulled out the Angel Cloud brochure he’d taken from Bonnie’s apartment. He studied the map and found the entrance to the bar. It was in a crowded area known for its late-night activities, but it was relatively quiet that night.

He opened the door and ascended the stairs. He climbed faster and faster as he neared the top. A muscular Japanese man in a white tuxedo stopped Cain at the top.

“You are not welcome here,” the bouncer said.

“I’m just looking for Bonnie—my sister.”

“She is not here. She quit.”

“Okay,” Cain said as he raised his hands chest level. “I don’t want trouble.” He scanned the room. “She asked me to grab her purse. She said she left it in her locker.”

“The purse is not here,” the bouncer said gruffly.

Cain looked past the surly bouncer and saw Sabrina across the lounge, sitting at a table with some other hostess girls.

“Time to go.” The bouncer put his hand on Cain’s shoulder.

“Easy, Road House,” Cain warned. “I’m leaving.”

The bouncer escorted him down the stairs and outside. As Cain stood on the sidewalk, he looked around. Normally, he stood out in Japan because of his height and build, but this popular nightlife area was frequented by Westerners. A few strolled by, presumably on their way to various eateries and bars.

Cain walked into the Lawson convenience store across the street from the Angel Cloud. The book section was crowded with about seven Japanese men ranging in age from twenty to sixty; they were standing in the aisle and reading manga. American cops would love this setup, Cain thought. Coffee, doughnuts, and pedophiles all in one convenient place.

Cain grabbed a copy of the Japan Times and headed to the register. Checkout was taking a while because the customer in front of him was paying her monthly electric bill. The cashier took the money and then had to stamp the bills and receipts several times with an official rubber stamp. Cain felt his patience wearing thin. All that Zen training and I’m about to blow my lid.

While waiting, Cain could smell a corn dog resting in the heating container. It suddenly hit him that he was starving. I haven’t had anything to eat since breakfast with Umi.

When Cain finally reached the counter, he said in a mix of Japanese and English, “Ichi corn dog, kudesei.” He lifted his newspaper in the air. “Ichi Japan Times.”

“Hai,” the young Japanese cashier said with a friendly smile. “One American dog. One Japan Times.” She then gestured at the cash register, which displayed a price of three hundred yen.

Cain dug into his pocket and retrieved the yennies he still had from the taxi ride.

“Mustard and ketchup?” the cashier asked, holding up a small plastic package that contained both condiments.

“Hai. Arigato,” Cain said. He took his purchases and grabbed a seat by the window. He removed the corn dog’s paper packaging and placed the dog on top of it. He grabbed the combo condiment and slathered it on the corn dog. He gobbled it up and read the paper while surveilling the entrance to the Angel Cloud.

Eventually, he saw the tall, slim, black-haired Romanian leave the Angel Cloud and start walking northbound. He crumpled all his trash together and tossed it in a bin as he hurried out the door to catch up with the Eastern European hostess.

“Sabrina!” he said. “It’s me—your favorite customer.”

“I can’t talk to you. You will get me in trouble.”

“I don’t want any trouble for you. I need your help. Please. For Bonnie.”

“Too many eyes are watching us in this neighborhood.”

“I’ll meet you anywhere.”

She continued walking northbound, with Cain one pace behind her. “Meet me here, at Yoyogi Park, in thirty minutes,” she said.

“Make it fifteen.”

“What if I’m followed?” she asked nervously.

“I will worry about that. You just please be there, Sabrina.”

“I have to worry,” she said, clearly scared. “Or they might take me, too!”

“Give me a cigarette,” he instructed. “If you see me smoking, that means you were followed and to just keep on walking past. Okay?”

She thought for a second and then pulled a cigarette from her Chanel purse—no doubt a gift from one of her wealthy clients.

Cain took the cigarette and reminded her, “Fifteen minutes.”

“Da,” she replied in her native Romanian.

Cain circled the park and sat on a bench. He watched closely the few people who were out and about, walking through the park. Some were businesspeople just cutting through to save time, and others were sweethearts enjoying a romantic walk.

He looked at his watch—the dials emitted a soft glow. It’s been fifteen minutes. Where the hell is she? His legs started to shake with anxious energy. Another ten minutes passed. Just when he thought of getting up to go search for her, her silhouette appeared in the distance. She didn’t stick to the plan. Instead of walking toward Cain, she sat at a bench about fifty yards away.

What the hell is she doing? he wondered. He continued his scan, and when he felt confident she had not been followed, he stood and walked toward her.

“What the hell was that all about? You didn’t stick to our plan,” he said.

“I got nervous,” she said. “I couldn’t remember our plan. I almost didn’t even come, so give me some credit!” She pulled out another cigarette from her purse.