Cajun Justice(94)

Armed with that vital information, Champ walked toward the bathroom. He looked rearward at his chaperone, who was still following close behind. “Are you going to wipe my ass, too?”

The gangster’s face turned red. He stopped at the bathroom doorway and ran his fingers through his slick hair. “Hurry up.”

Champ entered the stall and latched the door. He fumbled for his phone. When he found it, he sat on the toilet and texted Cain.

OYABUN IS HERE.

WHO? Cain texted back.

THE HEAD BOSS OF THE YAMAMOTO-GUMI. THEY ARE GOING TO MATCHBOX BAR AFTER. WALKING DISTANCE FROM TRAIN STATION. STAKE IT OUT NOW BEFORE EVERYONE STARTS ARRIVING.





Chapter 73



Cain walked the backstreets for about ten minutes to avoid detection by any yakuza members not at the wake. When it seemed safe, he hopped a city bus going to the Kamakura train station. After a few stops, he arrived at the heart of Kamakura. Trains were arriving and departing, buses were zipping in and out, and taxis lined the parking lot for travelers who were in a hurry and didn’t want to take public transportation.

Cain saw the izakaya and walked toward it. As he got closer, he saw a sign in the window that was in both Japanese and English: CLOSED FOR PRIVATE EVENT. MEMBERS ONLY. The curtains were drawn, and he couldn’t see through the window.

Cain walked around the back of the building. Along the narrow alley he noticed a window cracked open. He peered through the opening and saw a lone sink and stall. He looked around to make sure nobody saw him, and he raised the window. He threw the backpack in, put both hands on the windowsill, and pulled himself up and through the frame. He closed the window behind him and then approached the closed bathroom door. He got down on one knee and peered through the latch hole.

This’ll be a good place to keep an eye on ’em, he thought. But what’s my plan when I see them? I have no idea. Cain, he told himself, you better figure this out now, because you ain’t getting a second chance. You’ve broken your own cardinal rule: you’ve given yourself only one way out—through a tight window.

His concentration was broken by the vibration of his phone in his pocket. He saw that it was Tanaka. He sent the call to voicemail. Not now, Tanaka.

The phone vibrated again. This time it was a text message from Tanaka: SUSPICIOUS PACKAGE ARRIVED OVERNIGHT FOR YOU.

Suspicious, Cain thought. Oh, God. Is it a ransom note? One of Bonnie’s fingers as proof of life? Then his Secret Service training for how to recognize mail bombs took over. IS IT TICKING? Cain texted back.

WHAT? Tanaka asked.

PUT YOUR EAR TO IT—THE ONE YOU DON’T MIND GETTING BLOWN OFF. HEAR ANYTHING?

IT’S QUIET.

DOES IT HAVE MORE POSTAGE STAMPS THAN NECESSARY? Cain’s fingers were tiring from the texting. He preferred talking on the phone, but he couldn’t risk being heard talking in the bathroom—right in the den of the yakuza’s clubhouse.

I DON’T KNOW. NO POSTAGE STAMPS. ONLY SHIPPING LABEL. WAS SHIPPED OVERNIGHT—INTERNATIONALLY.

WHAT’S THE RETURN ADDRESS?

THAT IS SUSPICIOUS PART. HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS.

Cain exhaled with a huge sense of relief and grinned wide. The King risked his career. He had a change of heart and did the right thing after all.

?? Tanaka waited for a response.

IT’S OK. I KNOW HIM. NEED PACKAGE ASAP!

WANT ME TO GIVE TO UMIKO-SAN? Tanaka asked.

SHE’S OUT OF TOWN.

NO. SHE’S AT WORK.

WHAT? Cain wasn’t sure whether to feel worried or angry that Umiko hadn’t listened to him about leaving town.

CLOSED-DOOR MEETING WITH SATO-SAN FOR 1 HOUR.

Why would she be at work—in a private meeting with Sato? She knows the danger she’s in. She promised me she’d go straightaway to her parents in Osaka.

OPEN THE PACKAGE.

OK. About thirty seconds later Tanaka texted Cain back. LOTS OF ENGLISH DOCUMENTS.

IT’S IMPORTANT INFORMATION. LOOKING FOR CLUES TO HELP FIND BONNIE. NAMES OF BOATS, EXPORT COMPANIES, OR SHIPPING CONTAINERS.

OK. I WILL DO MY BEST.

I BELIEVE BONNIE WILL BE SHIPPED TO MIDDLE EAST AS SEX SLAVE.





Chapter 74



Champ Albright left the immaculate bathroom and walked to the temple. He sat on the tatami mat when the ceremony officially began. The Buddhist monk who was presiding over the wake kneeled in front of the coffin to chant a sutra. The coffin was open, and Hayabusa lay in eternal rest. The deceased yakuza member was dressed in a white kimono. His coffin was filled with flowers, and on top of his chest rested a shiny tanto—to protect him from evil spirits in the afterlife.

Damn! Champ thought. They should have chosen a closed casket. This dude had the shit beat out of him.

The immediate family, which was about twenty individuals, including several high-ranking yakuza members, approached the coffin one by one to honor their fallen brother. The head boss of the Yamamoto-gumi was a physically fit businessman in his sixties who controlled some of Tokyo’s most expensive real estate. He’d also invested heavily in Japan’s automotive industry as a way to expand his influence in other countries.

From his research, Champ knew that Yamamoto, Hayabusa’s grandfather, had been orphaned as a child when his parents and sister died in the blast from Little Boy, dropped from the Enola Gay on August 6, 1945. Their bodies were never found. Growing up in a poor orphanage in Hiroshima, young Yamamoto was recruited into the yakuza and became known as one of the most vengeful. For instance, when he learned that a real estate agent had cheated him out of 1 percent on a business deal, Yamamoto had killed him with a katana. Yamamoto served six years in prison, and when he was released, he climbed his way to the top and eventually took over the yakuza clan in Tokyo and Yokohama.