A Dog in Water (14 page)

Yoichi was driving the Hyundai. Yoichi was deep in thought. What should his next move be? At this rate Kanemitsu was bound to kill him sooner or later.
Kill me and the kid in the back
. But he couldn’t stand up to Kanemitsu, who had the guns. His only hope was to use the two guys on their tail, the man who called himself a detective and the other who shot through the window.
Who the hell are they? Don’t exactly seem like upstanding citizens
. It was too dangerous to rely on them. But at least there was no mistaking that they were Kanemitsu’s enemies.

He had no choice but to place his bets on them. Yoichi slowed down slightly, letting the car behind them stay on their tail as they sped along the avenue.

Kanemitsu finished reloading the two Glocks with the spare magazines and turned one on Yoichi. “Why are you driving so slow?! Floor it!”

“My thigh hurts too much, I can’t push down on the gas,” Yoichi replied with a nonplussed expression.

Kanemitsu clucked his tongue and pulled out the Marlboro pack from his jacket pocket. He lit a meth-laced cigarette.

“Here, smoke this. It’ll kill your pain,” he said, sticking the cigarette in Yoichi’s mouth.

Yoichi inhaled deeply. The headlights from the car behind them loomed closer in the side mirrors.

Kanemitsu turned to look and yelled, “They’re catchin’ up! Turn onto a side street!”

Yoichi ignored him. Kanemitsu aimed his gun at him.

“You asshole, you doing this on purpose?!”

Yoichi hit the brakes hard. The Hyundai squealed to a halt. The sudden shift sent Kanemitsu crashing into the glove compartment.

Grabbing the Glock, Yoichi brought it down hard on the steering wheel. Kanemitsu refused to let go. Just as Yoichi gathered his strength for another slam, Kanemitsu fired, shattering the window on Yoichi’s side of the car.

The flare temporarily blinded him. The intense report was deafening. But Yoichi could tell that the barrel of the gun was digging into the side of his neck.

“Drive!” Kanemitsu’s voice sounded muffled, distant.

At that moment a black shadow darted past the broken window.

The BMW overtook the Hyundai, spun sideways and screeched to a halt, totally cutting off the Hyundai’s path. The detective jumped out and behind the cover of the trunk reached out and aimed his revolver at the Hyundai. Kanemitsu rushed out of the passenger’s side of the
car.

The detective fired. The door window smashed into pieces but Kanemitsu was unharmed. Using the open door as a shield, Kanemitsu started firing off rapid shots. The body of the BMW threw off a succession of sparks. Unlike Kanemitsu’s Glock, the detective’s revolver only held five bullets—he couldn’t afford to waste any shots. He waited for Kanemitsu to reveal himself.

Yoichi jumped out of the driver’s door. He ducked low, opened the back door and hauled the boy out. Kanemitsu caught sight of him and thrust his hand back into the car, aiming his gun at Yoichi. The detective aimed for the ground by Kanemitsu’s feet and fired. Kanemitsu screamed; the bullet had ricocheted off the asphalt and grazed him. Yoichi seized the chance to pull the boy from the car and shut the door. Holding the boy, he crawled along the pavement towards the BMW. Yano got out of the driver’s side and knelt on the ground, Beretta at the ready as he opened the rear passenger door.

Firing both Glocks with abandon, Kanemitsu rose to his feet. His left hand aimed at the detective, his right hand at Yano. Bullets tore through the air around the detective. The window above Yano’s head blew out, showering him with shards of glass.

Kanemitsu jumped out from the shadow of the passenger door and crouched down near the front-left fender of the Hyundai. Yano fired at him, taking off the side mirror. He continued to provide covering fire as he got Yoichi and the boy into the back of the BMW.

“Detective! Get in!”

The rear door slammed shut with a bang. Kanemitsu suddenly leapt over the bonnet of the Hyundai, firing before his feet even touched the pavement. A shower of sparks and bits of paint flew from the fender near Yano’s face.

Pain seared across his right eye, causing him to recoil to the ground. The barrel of the Glock followed him. The detective burst forward, getting off two shots. Blood sprayed from the tip of Kanemitsu’s left shoulder, and he fell backwards to the ground. The Glock breathed fire in the detective’s direction, but he’d flattened himself
in the shadow of the Hyundai. Kanemitsu dove into the still-open driver’s door of the BMW. Yoichi lunged at him from the back seat. Kanemitsu pistol-whipped him in the head repeatedly. The detective took aim through the rear window of the BMW but Yoichi’s figure prevented him from firing. Yano haphazardly fired three bullets that arced ineffectively over the roof of the BMW and disappeared into the darkness. Yoichi passed out. Kanemitsu ducked down and released the emergency brake. The detective broke into a run. He thrust his revolver into the car through the shattered passenger’s side window, at Kanemitsu’s head, and pulled the trigger.
Click
. Just a fruitless metallic sound. The BMW peeled out. The detective clung to the window frame. The BMW shook him off after a few dozen feet, sped up and vanished into the darkness.

The detective rolled a score feet over asphalt then came to a stop. His shoulders, hips and knees ached, but he ignored the pain, stood up slowly and limped back towards Yano. The gangster was sitting on the ground, his fingertips pressed into the skin around his right eye.

“You okay?” asked the detective.

Yano looked up. “Just a cut from a piece of glass, it’s nothing …” A mixture of tears and blood welled from his right eye. The white was bright red, bloodshot. Yano turned his face toward the BMW’s path and heaved a heavy sigh. “Guess that’s it …”

He looked at the detective, who pulled out a cell phone. He was calling Kijima. “Hello, it’s me. I need you to stop a vehicle. A man, armed with pistols, is currently on the streets somewhere in the vicinity of Shimomaruko, Ohta Ward. He’s got an elementary school boy he kidnapped in the car with him. He’s a drug addict and highly dangerous. Please hurry.” He described the black BMW and gave the license plate number before hanging up.

“What’s your plan?” asked Yano.

The detective ignored him and placed a call to his informant. “It’s me, the detective. Does the name Takeda ring any bells? Has a grade school-aged son and ill-gotten funds that he can’t report to the police if it was stolen.”

“Ah, sounds like Takeda the extortionist,” replied the informant. “Heard he made a couple hundred mil off a recent gig.”

“Where does he live?”

“Somewhere in Setagaya, I think.”

“I need the exact address. Call me when you find it.”

“Hey, more importantly, I got curious and asked someone in the Sasaken Group about you. He said they were out to kill ya. Are you all right, man?”

“Don’t worry about me. Just hurry up.”

The detective hung up and got into the driver’s seat of the Hyundai. The engine turned over without a problem. Yano hurried into the passenger’s seat. The detective drove towards Kanpachi Avenue. The side windows were blown out and the windshield was pockmarked from numerous bullets, but the car’s drivability was unaffected. The wound in his left hand throbbed. The piercing bullet had rendered his left fingers largely immobile. Yano, slumped forward, was rubbing at his right eye. It seemed to be hurting quite a lot. Tears still flowed but the bleeding had stopped.

The detective’s cell rang as he turned left and steered towards Setagaya. It was the informant. The address listed for one Masayuki Takeda was in a residential area in Kaminoge, Setagaya. The clock on the dashboard indicated that it was past one in the morning. At this hour they’d reach the house in just twenty minutes.

“Thank you. I’m in your debt,” said the detective.

“Aw, cut it out. Don’t get all formal on me for such a morsel,” the informant said with a sarcastic laugh then fell quiet.

“Sorry, but can you go to my office and fetch your fee yourself? Door’s not locked.”

“Why?”

“There’s an envelope in my top desk drawer with around two hundred thousand in it. It’s yours.”

“That’s way too much …”

“I have another request. In that same drawer is a bankbook and a seal. Please give them to my daughter.”

“Hey, knock it off, Dick. Why are you sayin’ this?”

The informant’s voice had trembled slightly at the end.

“Fuck you, Dick! I’ll never in my life listen to a request like that! Hey, say something!”

“Thank you,” the detective said and hung up.

“Sorry about your car.”

“Ha, it’s not really mine,” replied Yano.

The Hyundai sped along Kanpachi Avenue. The silhouettes of Tamagawa Nogemachi Park’s trees lined the left side of the road. They passed the entry point for Keihin Route 3.

“Why are you still doing this?” Yano asked. His right eye had stopped weeping but he didn’t seem to be able to keep it open. “You’ve only got several more hours to live, and you get so banged up, all covered in blood …”

“…”

“That medicine was Chinese morphine, wasn’t it?”

“…”

“Why take something like that to mask the pain just to save some stranger’s kid? Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“You suggesting I read the Bible instead?” the detective asked, eyes never leaving the road. “I can’t die yet.”

Yano wordlessly looked out the window. They passed Kaminoge station. The detective followed the directions on the car navigation system and turned right.

“There are two things people should do before they die,” Yano abruptly broke the silence.

The detective glanced towards him. “What are they?”

“My grandpa told me when I was a kid. Said he learned it in the army.”

“What are the two things?”

“They’re different for each person. One is too little and three is too many. But if a person accomplishes two things, he can die fulfilled.”

So what are my two things?
the detective mused. One was to save that little boy. There was no mistake about that.
What about the other? Killing Kanemitsu?

No, that wasn’t it. It made no difference to the detective whether Kanemitsu got killed by whoever or died in a gutter from an overdose.
So what is my second thing? What else do I need to do before I die?

Yano pulled a small paper bag from his trouser pocket and tossed it into the detective’s lap. “Revolver bullets. Use ’em.”

A small smile appeared on the detective’s lips. He looked at Yano. “So what are your two things?”

“Ha, what two things are there in anyone’s life other than getting born and croaking?” the gangster replied still facing the window.

How very like the man
, thought the detective.

There was a gouge in Kanemitsu’s shoulder that looked like it had been dug out with an enormous chisel. The sun tattoo he’d modeled on Dennis Rodman’s ink was ruined. Slicing off his T-shirt with a knife, he tied it tightly around the wound. He lit a meth cigarette, inhaled deeply and held the smoke in his lungs. There was no pain. No apparent damage to the bone. He felt proud of his sturdy body.
A hero’s body. You think you can beat me? Huh?

Kanemitsu crossed the Tama River and entered Kanagawa. Nakahara Ward, Kawasaki City. He figured it was too dangerous to stay in Tokyo.
The pigs are probably searchin’ for this BMW already
. He parked in an underground garage near Hirama station on the Nanbu Line. Summoning Takeda here, getting the cash and stealing his car beat running around the streets.
God, I’m so fuckin’ smart
.

He bound Yoichi’s hands with the remainder of his T-shirt. The erstwhile partner’s body lay limp in the backseat, but he didn’t seem to
be dead. As for the kid, he was sobbing weakly.
Aw, poor baby. I’ll make it all better soon. Real soon
. Kanemitsu laughed out loud.

He took out his prepaid cell and called Takeda. “You better have the cash ready.”

“I do. Is Takashi—Takashi’s safe, isn’t he?” the boy’s father asked, his voice higher than usual. The call not coming until so late must have wrecked his nerves.

“Yeah, I’m takin’ real good care of him …” Kanemitsu laughed.

“Let me hear his voice!”

“Sure.” Kanemitsu turned around and shoved the cell into the boy’s face.

Recognizing his father’s voice, he opened his mouth wide and screamed, “Daddy!”

At that, Kanemitsu brought the phone back to his own ear. He interrupted Takeda babbling at his son and said, “That was it. So, doesn’t dear Takashi sound fine?”

Takeda fell silent.

“Take the money and get in your car. Drive along Kanpachi towards Haneda. I’ll call you later with the rest of the directions.”

“I’ll give you the money. But if it’s not in exchange for Takashi … Takashi coming back to me unharmed, I’ll never give you a red cent!”

“I know. I know everything,” Kanemitsu replied and hung up.

The detective discarded the empty shells from his revolver and reloaded with five of Yano’s .38 Specials. Yano took note and changed out the magazine in his Beretta.

They sat in the Hyundai, parked near a playground that gave an unobstructed view of Takeda’s house, and waited for the man to make a move. Takeda’s house was lit. They had checked the semi-basement parking garage to find the two spaces occupied by a Benz and a Range Rover. It would only serve to confuse Takeda if they explained the situation to him. He probably wouldn’t be thrilled to discover two strangers wanting to involve themselves with his son’s kidnapping. Their only choice was to tail Takeda as he went to pay the ransom.

Kanemitsu was sure to kill the kid as soon as he had the money, and there was no other way of preventing that from happening. When Kijima called back, the detective gave a simplified explanation about the situation but didn’t mention anything about Takeda. He had no idea how long it took for the MPD’s SWAT team to mobilize but doubted the boy would be allowed to live so long. Neither might the detective be.

It was past 2:00 a.m.

The detective had less than eight hours to live. Was that enough time to save the boy?
And what about the other thing I have to accomplish before I die?