Peccadillo - A Katla Novel (Amsterdam Assassin Series Book 2) (41 page)

“Hey, lover. Is that a sword or are you just happy to see me?”

The joke seemed perfunctory, her voice missing its usual spark.

“Both,” he said. “Did everything go according to plan?”

“Your plan paid off.” She sounded out of breath. “I’m one-point-nine million euro richer, and I destroyed the papers.”

“Are you hurt?”

“Just tired,” she said. “I think I have to take a long rest. My ribs hurt like a bitch.”

“Maybe you should have them checked?”

“No, I’m all right.”

She didn’t sound all right. He’d ask Tetsuo to call Otsuka. A doctor might be able to talk some sense into her.

He smiled at her and stroked her arm. “And the Kau Hong? Chang killed everyone?”

“Well, I killed a few myself.” Katla put a smelly finger on his nose. “And Chang missed one guy who jumped out of the window.”

“One of them escaped?”

“Yes. I don’t know who. Zeph told me on the way back.”

Bram rummaged through the sword cabinet, but his kit wasn’t there.

“What are you looking for, Bram?”

“My sword cleaning kit, but it’s probably still downstairs. About the guy who escaped, maybe you should call Chang, ask him.”

“I was about to, but I didn’t want to call him in Zeph’s presence.”

“Well, you can call him now.” Bram opened the door to the stairwell. “And take a shower.”

“I didn’t bring clean clothes.”

“Use my kimono. I’ll see you downstairs.”

On the way down Tetsuo stopped him. “Mitsuko just send up your girl. Told me she looked like she was hurt?”

“I’m sure she’s injured worse than she’s letting on,” Bram said. “Could you call Otsuka?”

Tetsuo squeezed his shoulder. “Anything I should be worried about?”

“I hope not, but it’s better to stay alert, right?”

Down in the basement, Bram located the cleaning kit, when a noise from outside drew his attention. Feet, scuffling on the steps by the street side doors. Probably another drunken asshole mistaking his doors for a urinal. He closed the doors to the hallway and padded silently across the worn judo mats to the doors.

Somebody was about to get a hell of a surprise.

-o-

Lau shut off the snorfiets and leaned it against a lamppost, hiding in the vestibule of the Compagnietheater as Sieltjes climbed onto the quay from the Zodiac and crossed the road to the Spinhuissteeg. The fat Rastafarian didn’t follow her, but made a U-turn and piloted the dinghy back the way they’d come. Lau hobbled to the corner, his clammy legs like frozen stilts. He looked into the alley, where he spotted Sieltjes entering a house halfway down the Spinhuissteeg.

When the door closed behind her, Lau waited a minute, in case it was a ruse. Sieltjes didn’t come back out. Lau walked down the deserted alley, the wet clothes pulling at his skin. Was this where she lived? Had they patrolled the Plantage area in vain? He halted in front of the house. A gleaming plate by the door featured Japanese kanji writing. Society of the Eternal Blossom. Sieltjes didn’t live here. She had to be visiting. He walked on and halted at the next corner, where the alley branched in two directions. His damp underwear chafed and he was aching for a cigarette, but he knew better than to smoke on a stake-out.

Ten minutes passed and Sieltjes hadn’t come out. His teeth were chattering with the cold. He had to get indoors, or hypothermia would set in soon. He took a battered ball cap from his pocket and pulled the cap low over his eyes, affecting a shambling walk as he retraced his steps through the alley.
 

The basement had blacked out windows. Probably a storage space, but it would be warm. Even unheated it would be warmer than outside. He could wait in the basement until she came out again. At least he knew where she was. If he lost track of her now, he might never find her again.

The lock looked pretty flimsy. The slight awning over the doors would shield him from prying eyes. With his dark clothes and the dark ball cap he’d be close to invisible. And Sieltjes would never expect him inside, another advantage. Perhaps he could even get inside the house, later. When everyone was asleep. Sneak in, and cut her throat while she dreamed of her victory.
 

He went down the steps and shrugged out of his jacket. Placing the rolled-up jacket against the window, he used his elbow to smash in the glass. The glass was reinforced with wire, and it took him two more blows before he could push the glass inside. He shrugged back into his jacket and looked into the pitch dark basement. Nothing moved. He stuck his arm inside to unlatch the chain and unlock the doors, stepped inside and closed the door behind him, then fished in his pocket for his flashlight. The small beam had trouble fighting the gloomy darkness, but what it illuminated didn’t look like a storage space. The patched judo mats under his feet, high end stereo equipment with an old-fashioned turntable.
 

He stepped deeper inside, his shoes squeaking on the mats.

“
Doe je schoenen uit
,” a low voice spoke in the darkness. Remove your shoes.

“
Diu nei
,” Lau muttered under his breath, goosebumps breaking out all over his body.
 

He flicked out his knife and shone the flashlight around. The jittering beam found a solitary person dressed in dark blue, kneeling with his pale hands on his knees, head bowed and dark hair with white strands hiding his face. The image reminded him of the Japanese horror movie The Grudge, especially when the head came up and the hair parted to reveal a horribly scarred face.
 

Lau gasped and the man smiled and opened his eyes, covered with ugly cataracts.

 
“
Diu nei lou mou!
”

“You’re trespassing.” The unseeing eyes looked straight into the beam of his flashlight. “This is my domain.”

Lau brandished his knife at him. “I’m not here for you.”

“Oh, I know. But you’ll have to get past me.”

“You think you can stop me?”

“Stop you? No.” The blind man looked entirely too much at ease. “But I can kill you.”

“I’m warning you, you blind fuck. I have a knife.”

The scarred man laughed and floated to his feet. “So do I.”

The blind man half-turned and in the flickering beam of his flashlight, Lau saw the sheathed Japanese sword hanging loosely from his left hand. The beam flickered again and Lau shook his flashlight. Either the battery was running low or the supposedly waterproof flashlight couldn’t handle being submerged. Lau took a step back towards the exit. The blind man took a gliding step forward and his right hand moved to the handle of his sword.

“You win,” Lau said. “I’m leaving.”

“Too late for that.”

The sword seemed to leap from the sheath, the blade hissing through the air. Lau threw himself flat on the floor, but the blind man squatted down and hacked at him again. Lau rolled backward and hit the wall. The flashlight went out. Lau cursed. The blind man was almost invisible, just his sword gleamed in the sparse light entering the basement through the broken window.

Lau shook the flashlight, but it refused to come back on.

“What’s wrong?” the blind man whispered. “Afraid of the dark?”

The dark.
 

The blind man sniggered, and now Lau understood—this fucked-up blind man stalking him with a giant razor was the true dark. Not Sieltjes, not the sniper, whoever he was. He was going to be killed by some insane blind fuck who’d waited for him in a dark basement, like some demented avenger in a horror movie.

He had to get out of here. He wasn’t going to die here. Not this way.

Lau moved sideways and the sword swished in his direction, the tip slicing through his coat. He dove to the left and rolled twice, coming back up on the balls of his feet and brandishing the knife at the darkness. The blind man was right, he should’ve removed his shoes. Every squeaking step helped his opponent to locate him. He remained where he was, absolutely motionless. Something whistled through the air from the right and he ducked as the sheath of the sword flew over his head, swung by the cord. A ruse. The sword came from the other side, cutting low, the tip slicing into his left leg.
 

He stumbled backward and clamped his hand on the wound, blood seeping from the cut.
 

A minor flesh wound. The madman was playing with him. Enjoying himself. Taking his time.

The blind man’s laughter echoed in the darkness. “You smell like sewage and you’re panting like a dog. Standing still won’t help you.”

The beam of his flashlight flickered on and went out again, but he had a rough idea where the blind man was. He threw the flashlight to the other side of the basement, to distract him.

The flashlight crashed into something, but the blind man laughed. “I could hear you exhale as you threw that.”

If he replied, he’d give away his position, so Lau didn’t allow the blind man’s taunts to draw him out. He unsheathed his throwing blade, holding it in his bloodied slippery hand, listening for any sound the blind man might make to reveal his position, but he couldn’t hear him over his own jagged breathing. He widened his eyes, but even as his eyes tried to adjust, the basement remained too dark.

Lau heard a muffled step from someone limping down the stairs outside the basement. As he glanced into the direction of the noise he spotted a thin line of light. Doors, leading to the rest of the house. He had to attract attention, get someone to open the doors and shed some light on his situation. His ankle bumped against a low table and he kicked it against the wall. As the table crashed loudly against the wall, Lau crouched down, his throwing blade ready. Behind him, the door to the hallway opened and light flooded the basement. The blind man was two meters away, advancing on him but momentarily distracted by the door opening.

Lau threw his blade and hit the blind man in the left shoulder. The blind man staggered backwards, the sword lowered.
 

Swinging his knife, Lau dove to the blind man’s feet, just as a woman’s voice screamed, “Bram!”

The blind man whirled to the side like a bullfighter and Lau felt his knife rip through cloth as he tumbled and cracked his shoulder against a small table. He twisted and sprang to his feet, but the blind man glided in his direction, wielding his katana one-handed, the sword slicing the air with a cold whisper. Lau arched his body backward to avoid the blade, and the tip of the sword passed just below his face. For a moment he thought the sword had missed, but he couldn’t swallow and he put his hand on his throat. Wetness coated his fingers and he could hear the blood rushing in his ears as the blind man’s blade whirled up over the scarred face and flashed down at an angle.

Searing bright pain flooded his body like an exploding fireball and the world tilted. Then all went black, and he was alone in the darkness except for the rushing in his ears.

Katla worried about Bram. He was spending hours sitting in the clinic’s Zen garden, not talking to anyone.
 

Lau’s death had been messy and her shout had brought the house down. Tetsuo had stormed down the stairs, a sawn-off shotgun and a pistol in his hand as he shouldered her aside and rushed into the basement, stopping dead in his tracks. As Katla turned on the lights, Tetsuo had turned to her, thrust the weapons at her and steered her from the basement, closing the doors behind her. Two men came running down the stairs, followed by Mitsuko and their daughter, Yukiko. One of the men tried to shoulder her aside, but Katla stood her ground and said, “Tetsuo is with him.”

The first man said something in guttural Japanese, but Katla shook her head. “Nobody goes inside.”

A few minutes later, one of the doors opened and Tetsuo came out, his arm around the taller man’s shoulders. The handle of a throwing blade was sticking from Bram’s shoulder and his pale face was streaked with blood. Tetsuo spoke gruffly with Mitsuko, who took Bram’s right arm and started taking him upstairs with Yukiko. Tetsuo motioned for Katla to go with the women, and for the two men to follow him into the basement.

Another Japanese guy showed up, introduced himself as Otsuka. He removed the throwing blade, washed and field-dressed the wound. While the women dressed Bram, Otsuka came up to Katla and pressed her sides. He nodded at her sharp intake of breath. “Broken ribs. You’re coming with me. We have to make sure there’s no internal bleeding.”

They walked downstairs and passed the basement, where Tetsuo took Katla aside. “That was no ordinary intruder, was it?”
 

Katla shook her head. “He was a murderer, killed one of my people right in front of me.”

Tetsuo studied her.
 

Katla smiled at him. “Don’t worry, Tetsuo-san. He was the last one.”

“You should’ve come to me for protection,” he said. “Bram is family. You are his woman.”

“I didn’t want to impose.”

Tetsuo took her elbow and steered her back to Bram and Otsuka. “Take care of Bram, he might be in shock.”

She doubted if he was in shock, but that he’d been affected by the killing was clear.

They were taken to a small private clinic in Watergraafsmeer, where Otsuka and his team ran tests. X-rays showed no internal bleeding, but Otsuka told them they would stay at the clinic until Bram’s basement was sanitised. Katla stayed in a bed with a view of the clinic’s Zen garden, where Bram sat for hours under an awning, dressed in a snow-white kimono, his left arm in a sling. She wanted to talk to him, but Otsuka told her that Bram was to be left alone, so he could meditate.

“He needs to come to terms with killing another human being,” Otsuka said. “You probably wouldn’t understand.”

Now Katla walked down a stone path to the awning, where Bram was sitting on a pillow. He was dressed in a checkered kimono, no longer using a sling. She sat on the bench against the wall. “I brought warm saké.”

“Thanks.”

“You’ve been awfully quiet, Bram. Are you all right?”

He smiled at her, a soft smile. “Yes, I am. And I’m glad you’re here.”

“Otsuka told me you wanted to meditate.”