Kusanagi (18 page)

The full moon beamed down like a searchlight on the river, illuminating the scene with a clear colourless light. The Thames glittered in chiaroscuro, the water shimmering like the scales of a fish.

There was a sharp banging noise. Stafford awoke. His phone was ringing. He took a second to realise where he was, in his new position at the top of the house in the granny flat. He picked the phone up and tried to turn the lights on. The power was out. The general alarm should have gone off.

‘Good grief,' he said, pulling open the bedside table drawer and hauling out his pistol. Men were piling out of a black RIB outside and racing up the ladder towards the lounge.

‘Get into the bathroom and lock the door!' Jane was shouting at Jim, a gun in her hand.

‘No,' said Jim.

From the noise, a lot of people were coming their way.

‘Just do it!'

‘No,' said Jim.

‘All right,' she said.

Stafford looked out of his doorway. He couldn't see anything in the dim glow of the emergency lighting.

There was a burst of cracks and whistles and he dodged inside his room as the wall and doorframe erupted under a hail of bullets. ‘Gosh,' he heard himself cry out. He braced himself, put his arm outside and fired two shots.

Jim resisted the urge to look towards where the gunshots were coming from. He could hear feet thudding down the hall.

The door burst open and Jane opened fire, the first figure tumbling forwards. She shot the second. There was a report from the doorway and something struck her. She collapsed to the floor. Jim ran to her.

There was another shot and something sharp slapped Jim's arm. A flash of white light lit his world and he felt a twist of agony. He was stricken and powerless with pain.

A black figure, crowned with night sights, bent down and jabbed a hypodermic into Jane's thigh, then another into Jim. The figure pulled the Taser round out of Jane and threw her over his shoulder. The other Taser shooter dropped his weapon and helped up the second figure Jane had shot. He had been saved by a bulletproof vest. The first man into the room had a bullet between his eyes and was going nowhere.

Stafford had barely put his arm out of the door before the next salvo whined past it. He snatched his hand back in.

He heard running downstairs. They were leaving. He listened hard. There it was – movement from the man at the foot of the stairs. He swung out and let off three rounds. There was a muffled cry. He ducked back.

A boat engine was roaring outside. Stafford slammed the door and hurriedly closed the latch. He ran to the window and threw it up. A figure was jumping into the RIB with Jane on his shoulder. He couldn't see Jim. There were seven figures and Jane. He took aim at one of the RIB's twin engines and fired. Torchlights swung and he ducked back. The window erupted into a shower of broken glass. He shielded his face. He ran to cover and peered out. The RIB was tearing away through the shadows along the Thames.

Stafford picked his way through the broken glass and put his slippers on. He unlatched the bedroom door. He swung his pistol out and aimed down the stairs before following his extended arm out onto the landing.

He went slowly down the stairs. There was a body in the hall. The man had managed to crawl a little way before expiring. He walked past the corpse and looked into the main hallway that ran the length of the building. It was empty. He waddled gamely to Jim's bedroom. A body lay in what looked, in the moonlight, like a puddle of water. He knew it was blood. Then he saw Jim. ‘Oh dear,' he muttered, as he went to him. A hypodermic was sticking out of his leg, which Stafford removed.

He took Jim's pulse, which was strong, then called Smith.

‘We're already on the way,' said Smith. ‘Two of my men have been seriously assaulted outside your house.'

‘A fast boat is heading down the Thames with seven heavily-armed men in it. Colonel Brown is onboard and being held captive. I'm in control here.'

‘Got that.' Smith hung up.

Jim was only partially aware that he was walking. Stafford was struggling to steer him down the hall. They careered into a guest bedroom and towards the double bed. Stafford let him drop onto it, then picked up his feet and pushed him further into the middle. ‘You rest there. I'll deal with Smith when he comes.'

Jim didn't hear him.

Jane was in some kind of crate. She was handcuffed in a foetal position and there was a mask over her face. She felt as if she was dreaming but knew from the pain in her wrists that she was at least partially awake.

The machine that monitored her vital signs noticed the increase in activity and pumped more of the drug into her. She lost consciousness.

Smith was pacing around the shattered lounge. ‘You mean to tell me you know nothing about this?'

‘Not exactly,' said Stafford, ‘but it's clear to me that this is not about Jim. It's about Jane. They took her and left him. That fact is patently obvious.'

‘Are you suggesting the group of Yakuza who attacked you on the Strand were a different group from the Japanese who stormed you tonight and who are unconnected again with the one-armed Japanese guy, who happens to be the Japanese Emperor's curator?'

‘Is he now?' said Stafford. ‘How interesting.'

‘Look, Bertie…'

Stafford gave him look of displeasure.

‘There are bodies strewn all over the place. Two of my men sat outside have been attacked and disabled. You have to tell me what's going on.'

‘You know I can't.'

‘I don't care if you
are
MI10, and I don't care if it's a national secret.
I need to know.
I don't care about the DIA either. You simply have to tell me.'

‘I can't,' said Stafford.

‘You will.'

‘John, there is something you need to know.'

‘Go on.'

‘If I tell you what's happening, your own life will be at great risk.'

Smith stared at him down his once broken nose. ‘Tell me how that could be?'

‘I'm afraid we're involved in something so big that nobody can be considered safe or indispensable.'

‘Go on.'

‘I have nothing more to say.'

‘Stafford, do you think I care for one moment about being in danger? You know the score between Jim, Jane and me. Frankly, I'm pissed off that I'm frozen out here.'

‘You have my word that, in the circumstances, you are best left in the dark.'

Smith looked around the room in thought. Indeed, he had seen nothing like it. He couldn't imagine what could be so dangerous that he wasn't safe knowing about it – but, then, he couldn't imagine what could have unleashed this tidal wave of violence either. It didn't make any sense. Whatever it was it certainly couldn't be about some antiques.

The top floor of Kim's headquarters was famous. It was taken up with his private zoo. The building was renowned across Japan as the most opulently extravagant of any in the nation. He was the biggest property magnate in Tokyo, and it was a symbol of his power and wealth. It was part of the bluff that his wealth was so great that all his creditors were secure in their investment with him.

He would seldom allow visitors, and then only if they were the most influential of people, and then again, only if they had something he wanted.

The keepers were Koreans, with families in the North.

Those who knew realised he had business tendrils that stretched over the 42
^nd
Parallel into that brooding, malevolent country. The source of his initial capital and the lack of substantiation of his personal history was always a topic of conversation among his detractors, but it hadn't held him back.

What held him back was debt. A two trillion yen financial black hole.

With the regalia, he told himself yet again, he would escape from his increasingly unbearable burden. With it, he would pay off all his debts.

He chopped the fish liver, his hands in surgical gloves, then added it to a small mound of minced Kobe beef, which he rolled into meatballs. He went to the lift from his office suite to the floor above. Whenever he entered the zoo, the CCTV that monitored all the animals went off. The screens on the tenth floor would go blank the moment he stepped out of the lift. His enjoyment of the animals was not for others to watch.

The cages were bare, like prison cells without beds. Each animal sat in an antiseptic space, bars on all sides, with perhaps a ledge to jump up on or a bar to swing from.

Kim walked past the hyena; its paws made a scampering sound as it turned so that its eyes could follow him up the aisle. The cheetah in the next cage was pacing in circles and figures of eight. It didn't pay any attention to him. The lion watched him pass.

Kim stopped by the Tasmanian devil's cage and watched for a moment. It, too, was circling its cage, marching in its piggy way in a never ending circuit.

The tiger's cage, the biggest, was at the far corner of the floor. She rose as Kim approached. She looked at him, the pupils in her brown eyes tight elliptic slits. Kim opened the food door and put the bowl in. He closed the door. The bowl popped into the cage and slid a little across the floor. The tiger looked at the bowl and then at Kim. She stepped over to it and sniffed. She ate.

Kim watched and waited. The tiger swayed and began to pant. She sat back on her haunches and batted her eyes as if surprised at something. Her mouth dropped open and there was a thud as she fell forwards onto her side.

Kim swiped his cufflinks across the cage lock. There was a clunk and he opened the door. He knelt by the paralysed tiger. ‘You are so very beautiful,' he said, stroking her warm fur.

After he had finished with her, he would serve her at his restaurant and another occupant would take her place in the cage. The traces of
fugu
toxin in her muscles would add flavour.

Jim was sitting by the shattered window when Stafford returned with his bag. ‘Give it to me,' he said. He took out the necklace and put it on. He arranged his tennis shirt so it fell under it. He held the mirror in one hand and the sword in the other. ‘They've grabbed Jane to swap her for these. She's probably halfway to Japan by now.' He put the mirror down and pulled the sword out of the scabbard. ‘I'm going to have to go there and get her back – and I'm going to kill whoever's behind this and stick their head on a spike.'

‘Very good, sir,' said Stafford, raising an eyebrow.

Jim put the sword away. ‘The professor is the key.'

‘How so?' queried Stafford.

‘I don't know, but he is.'

Jim's phone rang. ‘Hello.'

‘Good morning, Jim Evans,' said a Japanese man's voice, in clear English. ‘We understand you have lost your lady friend. We would like to help.'

‘Is she OK?'

‘For a small fee, I'm sure we can locate her and she can be returned to you well and happy.'

‘Small fee?'

‘Some objects with which you are familiar.'

‘Well, that's going to be difficult, isn't it, seeing as you've got her in Japan and the objects are in London?'

There was a silence. ‘I'm sure these problems can be overcome.'

He picked up the sword again. ‘First you need to prove to me

Jane's alive. Then we can talk.'

‘She is alive.'

He was clenching the sword very tightly. ‘Have you thought about how many of your people I have already killed?' he hissed. A white light was filling his vision. ‘Your life expectancy is directly connected to hers.'

The line went dead.

Kim looked at his keyboard. Indeed, he had not considered how many of his men had been killed in trying to secure the regalia. He felt a sensation of unease in his chest. He took the battery out of the phone and dropped the sim card into the maw of his shredder. It shattered.

Jim studied his distorted face in the undulating surface of the mirror. He looked very determined and there was a hard, mean glint in his eye. He appeared much older in the shimmering silver lens, his face careworn and craggy.

Jane had saved his arse in the Congo, and now it was his turn to even the score. She had moved heaven and earth to get to him in the jungle, risking her career and her neck. Without her, he would have never made it out alive. Now it was down to him to save her.

He stared at the face in the mirror. He could hardly recognise himself.

The driver pulled over and parked. Akira looked around the street nervously. There were two uniformed policemen at Jim's door. He instructed his guards to stay in the car. The police were armed with machine guns.

They didn't look very happy as he approached. ‘I'm here to see Evans-san,' he said.

‘Is he expecting you?'

‘Yes.'

The older and fatter of the policemen buzzed through to the house and explained.

Stafford came to the door. ‘You'd better come in,' he said to Akira.

Even though Stafford had cleared up the mess, Akira immediately noticed something was awry in the house. A breeze was blowing up the corridor and the lounge, as he passed the door, was in a shambolic state. Stafford showed him into a study, where Jim sat brooding.

‘What has happened, Evans-san?' said Akira, his horror written on his face.

‘We got attacked last night. They took Jane.'

‘Oh, no,' said Akira. ‘Do you still retain the regalia?'

‘Yes,' said Jim.

‘And you will trade it for her?'

‘Yes,' said Jim.

‘I must beg you not to.'

‘I know,' said Jim. ‘I will if I have to.'

There was a silence.

‘But,' said Jim, ‘I have a deal for you.'

‘Anything in my power.'

‘If you take me to Japan and find Jane, I will give you one object. If I can rescue her, I will give you another. If we get back here alive, I will give you the sword Kusanagi.'

Akira stood, his head bowed. His eyes were closed and he was thinking. ‘I agree. There may be a way.' He opened his eyes.

Jim was holding Kusanagi, the back of his hand pressed to his lips. ‘Good,' he said. ‘Prepare to leave immediately.'

‘And the regalia?'

Stafford had entered the room without Akira noticing. ‘I will make sure it's safe.'

Why Stafford had decided he needed the Maybach limousine, Jim didn't understand. They didn't use it because cabs were so much more convenient than negotiating the whale of a car around London. Getting it out of the underground parking bay was bad enough. The huge vehicle seemed to have a giant momentum and Jim suspected that Stafford had had it bullet proofed.

They were heading for Heathrow and a Virgin Atlantic flight to Tokyo. The Gulfstream couldn't make it in one hop to Japan, so a commercial flight was best. The professor was shouting into his phone. Whoever was at the other end was getting both barrels. Gone was the respectful, polite little curator: he had been replaced by a rabid wolf. He was growling and shouting at the top of his voice.

‘We have been betrayed,' he said, after hanging up. ‘Everything I have relayed is relayed on and people are knowing what should be secret. I have demanded
carte blanche
. That way we will not have to revert for permission.'

‘What does that mean?'

‘It means I can do as I please and get what I demand.'

‘Great,' said Jim.

Akira's short hand was twisted into a claw. ‘It is the only way.'