PRIMAL Fury (The PRIMAL Series) (35 page)

“So that’s the plan.” Bishop was standing in front of a 3-D building schematic being projected onto the wall of the clubhouse. “Does anyone have any questions?”

Aleks and Kurtz looked at each other and then the Russian put his hand in the air. “Excuse me if I missed this, but what exactly are Kurtz and I doing during all this?”

“Just about to get to that. This job’s small: Saneh, Kenta, and I will handle it. You two have a far more important role.” He clicked the remote in his hand and the building plan was replaced with a photo of the Yamaguchi-gumi
oyabun
. “Analysis of the Mori-Kai’s intent and previous modus operandi leads me to the conclusion that this man, Kenta’s boss, is likely to be the next target of the Mori-Kai’s assassination squad.”

Kurtz rolled his eyes. “More babysitting.”

“Yes, but only until we locate the next Mori-Kai location. Then we’re going to need all our firepower in one place.”

“When do you want us to leave?” Aleks asked.

“As soon as you can. Take the van. I’m going to check in with HQ now to see what other intel they may have picked up. I’ll pass on anything new as soon as I get it. The rest of us will roll in an hour.”

“OK, boss,” said Aleks. “But you have to promise you won’t run off and start a gunfight without us. Right, Kurtz?”

The German sat quietly, staring intently at the photo of the
oyabun
, his hand resting on the stock of his Tavor. “Something like that.”

CHAPTER 66

MORI-KAI CASINO CONSTRUCTION SITE, HIMEJI

The Nissan sedan drove in through the gates of the construction site, followed by a medium-size Toyota van. The guard at the gate was expecting them. He waved them through as he lifted his radio to report their arrival.

The vehicles’ headlights swept across heavy machinery and piles of building materials as they bounced their way across the heavily rutted construction yard. The newly built casino rose up above them like a sinister fortress as they approached.

Another guard, armed with a glowing traffic wand, waved them down a ramp and into the well-lit interior of an underground garage, where Masateru was waiting with Ryu, Hideaki, and two more of his black-clad Kissaki.

Xinhai, the head of one of Kobe’s most powerful Triad gangs, stepped out of his vehicle and surveyed the parking garage with a snakelike intensity. He was an intimidating character, his face, bald head, and arms covered in Chinese tattoos designed to hide the deep burns caused by an attempt on his life. The molten skin was a testament to his resilience in a world where leadership shifted like the winds.

“Welcome to our humble project, Xinhai.” Masateru bowed his head. His visitor was the head of nearly five hundred Chinese criminals, a man even the Yakuza treated with caution.

“Congratulations, you have built a parking lot. I do hope that there is more to this meeting.” The Triad boss nodded to one of his companions, who walked across to the van and slid open the side door. No fewer than ten Triad heavies climbed out.

“Oh, I think you will find it’s worth your while. Come with me.” Masateru gestured to the elevator. “Unfortunately some of your men must remain here.”

Ten of them, five Mori-Kai and five Triad, took the elevator up to the ground floor of the casino.

“What is this?” Xinhai asked as they stood in the concrete shell of the reception area.

“This will be a casino, the first owned by the Mori-Kai. It will be fully integrated into our other operations.”

“Impressive, but what does this have to do with us?”

“We have an offer to make you.”

“And what is that?”

“Exclusive rights to run the gambling here.”

“And why would you offer this? Couldn’t you use your own people?”

“We’re focused on other enterprises. It would be more efficient to let your people run the casino and have our people supply the girls.”

“And the cut?”

“Half and half.”

Xinhai laughed. “Forty-sixty.”

“I’m already working with the Koreans; it would be just as easy to make an arrangement with them.”

“Koreans will fuck it up.” Xinhai spat on the ground. He looked around the half-built reception area, visualizing the completed casino. “You do know that I have sworn my loyalty to the Yamaguchi
oyabun
?”

“Yes.”

“Well, do you think I have no honor?”

“No, I—”

“Then why do you ask me to break my oath? Do you think my loyalty is so easily bought? I know you are at war with the Yamaguchi, yet you invite me here like we are brothers.”

Masateru swept his hand through his slick hair and glanced nervously at Ryu. If the former Special Forces operator was nervous, he was not showing it. His chiseled features, like his eyes, remained impassive. He looked poised and lethal.

“Even a dog has a master,” Xinhai continued. “Until that master is dead he will not entertain a new master.”

“I understand.”

“However, the terms that you offer are most desirable. We would be foolish not to consider them.”

“I understand that there is the matter of your allegiance with the Yamaguchi, but you should know that they are weakened by the loss of the most powerful of the
waka-gashira
. Without him the
oyabun
is helpless; he will soon lose control of the subclans.”

A wicked smile split the Chinese man’s tattooed features. “That was you? Is it true that you sent Takahiro’s skin to him in a frame?”

“He screamed like a woman when he died.”

Xinhai laughed, a low, wicked sound. “He always thought too highly of himself. They say a man must know his place. Now his is probably hanging on his master’s wall.”

Masateru smiled, then gestured the Triad leader and his men back to the elevator. “I can assure you, this issue of your loyalty to the Yamaguchi
oyabun
will be resolved shortly. Once the necessary changes have been made I will arrange another meeting.”

“I look forward to it.”

They returned to the parking lot, where the rest of the Triads were waiting. They piled back into their van as Xinhai climbed into the Nissan. Before the sedan drove away, he wound down the window. “Masateru, my people tell me that the Yamaguchi have plans of their own. Tomorrow their
oyabun
is meeting with his most trusted lieutenants. If I was a betting man, and I am, then I would put my money on an offering of peace.”

Masateru nodded, then shrugged. “There will be no peace.”

The two vehicles disappeared up the ramp. Masateru took out his phone and dialed his
oyabun
. “The Triad will support us once the Yamaguchi
oyabun
is dead. Until then they refuse to work with us.”

“Understandable.”

“He also revealed that the Yamaguchi are holding a clan meeting tomorrow.”

“And what is the meeting for?”

“Apparently they want to make peace.”

The Mori-Kai
oyabun
laughed. “Unfortunately not everyone can get what they want. It is time to put our new foot soldiers to work. Put a price on the old man’s head. That should motivate them.”

“Ryu will coordinate the raid.”

“Yes, but let the Koreans do the fighting.”

“As you wish,
oyabun
.” Masateru ended the call and turned to Ryu. “Use the Koreans and hit them when the lieutenants have gathered. If the old man is killed the reward will be double.”

The Kissaki commander nodded. “It will be done.”

“Kill every Yamaguchi piece of shit you come across, Ryu. Leave no one alive. I don’t care if they’re gardeners or cooks. Everyone must die.”

CHAPTER 67

YAMAGUCHI-GUMI SAFE HOUSE, KOBE

“What have you got for me?” Bishop was sitting in front of a laptop at a desk in one of the offices. He had dialed into the Bunker for an intel update; it had been almost forty-eight hours since Kurtz and Aleks had ripped the data from the Interpol agent’s phone.

“Not a lot, I’m afraid.” Flash’s face filled the screen. “My team’s been working around the clock on the Interpol phone as well as the castle data but all we have is a general link to the Himeji region. There were other numbers on the phone but only one in Japan.”

“Any other details for the Himeji number?”

“No longer active. Someone knew that the Frenchman’s handset was burnt so they got rid of it.”

“Account data?”

Flash shook his head. “Nothing useful. Even the Trojan horse you implanted has been a dead end.”

“Shit, I was kind of hoping it would lead us right to the bad guys.”

“Afraid not. All I got was a general location. Sorry.”

“All good, we’ve got a HUMINT lead we’re following up tonight. If that pans out we should at least know where these guys are keeping the girls.”

“Sounds promising. If you get anything else for me just fire it through.”

“Will do, thanks again.”

“Good luck tonight. Flash out.”

Bishop sat at the desk for a moment, pondering Flash’s information. The Mori-Kai were running tight security procedures. If tonight did not work out there was a chance they would never find Karla. Worse still, the Mori-Kai might even decide she was too much of a liability and dispose of her. He pushed the thoughts from his head, closed the laptop, and glanced at his watch. According to Kenta, by now Takeshi would be shit-faced in his dingy little bar. It was time to get the mission rolling.

DOWNTOWN KOBE

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” said Saneh to Kenta. “Do you have any family?” She was sitting in the back of the Toyota sedan with Bishop while Kenta drove them to the target building.

“Only the Yamaguchi.”

“Then why is it that you have respect for women when so many Japanese men do not?”

“My father taught me that everyone deserves two things in life: respect and justice.”

“A noble notion,” said Bishop. “Were your ancestors samurai?”

“No,” Kenta chuckled. “Farmers.”

“An even nobler profession.”

Kenta pulled the car over to the side of the road. They were in a well-to-do area of the city. Large blocks of luxury condominiums nestled together around parks and shopping areas.

“That’s the address.” Kenta pointed out one of the buildings.

“Yep, recognize it from the target pack.” Bishop checked his watch; it was two in the morning. “Let’s go to the drop-off point.”

Kenta drove into the alleyway behind the condo. It was deserted.

“You good with this, Kenta? Your part’s pretty important.”

“Yes, I know what I have to do.”

Bishop and Saneh ducked out of the back of the sedan and walked quickly across to the fire exit. Chua’s analysis had confirmed that only the entrance and the underground car park were covered by security cameras.

They were dressed completely in black, wearing Nomex hoods rolled up on their heads, climbing harnesses, covert radios, and windproof jackets to ward off the cold night air. Bishop was carrying a battered climbing backpack.

Saneh used a thin piece of metal to card the lock; it opened with a click and Bishop moved inside. She followed and they jogged up the stairs.

“No sign of our man,” Kenta’s voice came through their earpieces. “The security guard just finished his rounds.” He was watching the front of the building from the Toyota.

“We’ll be ready to go in a few minutes,” Saneh replied, short of breath. They continued up, both breathing heavily by the time they had covered all twenty flights of stairs.

They exited the stairwell onto the rooftop and out into the crisp night air. Saneh pulled a rope from Bishop’s pack, passed it around a heavy air-conditioning unit, and handed it to Bishop. He took the rope and tied it into a carabiner. Then he took two rope bags out and tied those ropes into the carabiner. He finished off the system by zip-tying a tiny remote detonator to each of the anchor lines.

“Taxi has arrived,” Kenta transmitted as a cab stopped at the curb near the entrance to the building.

“Not going to be as late a night as I thought,” replied Bishop. “We’re good to go.”

Kenta watched the target from inside the Toyota.

A man paid the cabdriver and lurched up the steps to the lobby of the building fumbling in his jacket for his keys.

“He’s been drinking,” Kenta transmitted.

“No shit,” Bishop said as he checked his rope and peered over the edge. “Can you confirm it’s our boy?”

“Yes, it’s him,” reported Kenta.

“Roger.” Bishop adjusted the anchor line to ensure they would drop cleanly down the middle of the building. He snapped his descender onto the line and fastened the rope bag to his leg. Saneh did the same and they checked each other’s equipment.

“You look good in black.” Bishop pulled his balaclava down over his face.

“Mind on the job, Aden…” She tried unsuccessfully to hide her grin behind her Nomex hood.

“We’re moving now,” Bishop transmitted as they backed up to the edge of the building, controlling their ropes as they slid through the descenders attached to the front of their harnesses. “You ready?” he asked Saneh.

She nodded and dropped off the building.

“Ladies first, I guess,” Bishop murmured as he dropped after her.

“One.” He counted off the floors to himself as they bounded past each apartment’s balcony.

“Two.” He passed Saneh.

“Three.

“Four.

“Five.” Bishop pulled down on the descender, bringing him to a halt. Saneh slid down silently next to him.

They hung fifteen floors up, perched next to their target balcony. Bishop reached down to the rope bag on his leg and gathered a length of rope, looping it over his descender and locking it off.

“Wait here,” he whispered.

“Wait here?” repeated Saneh. “Where on earth would I go?”

Bishop let go of the rope, spun upside down, and shuffled himself across to peer into the target apartment. Takeshi lay passed out on his bed, fully clothed with the lights on.

“All clear.” He spun back upright and pulled the loop of rope, restarting his descent. He dropped over the balcony lip and touched down gently. Saneh followed his move a few seconds later. They took off their rope bags and unclipped their descenders, leaving them on the balcony. Bishop drew his suppressed pistol from his backpack.

Saneh checked the sliding door; it was unlocked. Bishop followed her in and they moved toward the bedroom.

“Clearly a bachelor.” Saneh wrinkled her nose in disgust as she surveyed the squalid state of the apartment. There were piles of clothing on the floor and empty bottles of alcohol on every horizontal surface.

Bishop strode past her, straight into the bedroom. “Wake up!”

Takeshi moaned and rolled over, opening his eyes. “
Kono yaro
—
”

“English, motherfucker!” Bishop slapped him with a gloved hand.

The executive’s words dropped off as he focused on the black-clad, balaclava-wearing intruders who stood in front of him. Fear spread across his plump features. “I’ve paid what I owe!”

“We’re not here for money, Takeshi. We want to know everything you know about the Mori-Kai.”

“All I know? If you’re not them, then who are you?” His alcohol-muddled brain struggled to comprehend the situation.

“If you tell us everything you know, then we are friends. If you don’t, then, well, we’ll make you regret you ever heard of the Mori-Kai.”

The businessman shook his head. “If I tell you anything they will kill me.”

“No.” Bishop’s voice was low. “If you tell us everything they might kill you. They might find out our information came from you, they might be able to find you, or then again they might not be in a position to do anything to you. There is lots of uncertainty when it comes to the Mori-Kai and you.” Bishop raised his pistol.

The man’s eyes grew wider as he focused on the muzzle of the suppressor.

“The situation here is far more certain than any Mori-Kai threat,” Bishop continued. “If you don’t tell me what I want to know I’m going to take you out to your balcony, give you one last look at the lights of Kobe, and then help you over the rail. From this high up you will make a lovely smear on the street. Just another high-powered executive who burned out.”

The businessman wiped the sweat from his forehead with a sleeve of his shirt. His beady eyes darted back and forth between the two balaclava-wearing PRIMAL operatives. “OK, what do you want to know?”

“We can start with what you know about their prostitution ring.”

“I only use them for white whores, young virgins.”

Bishop slapped him, drawing blood from his mouth. Tears poured from the corners of his piglike eyes.

“Please don’t kill me. That’s all I know. I send a message, I order girls, and they bring them here. That’s it.”

“How do you pay?”

“Cash, always cash.”

“How long does it take them to get here from when you order?”

“Not long.”

“What the fuck sort of answer is that? Give me a time frame. Is it less than an hour?”

“Yes, yes, about an hour.”

“About an hour or less than an hour? Make up your fucking mind, Takeshi, I’m losing my patience here.”

“Less than an hour, less! Maybe forty-five minutes.”

Bishop looked at Saneh and nodded. The Mori-Kai facilities had to be close. He turned back to Takeshi. “I want you to take out your phone and order a girl to be here within the hour.”

Saneh took his jacket from the floor, pulled out his BlackBerry, and tossed it on the bed.

Bishop continued. “If you try to call the police, if you try to let them know we are here, if you do anything other than send your order, I’m going to shoot you in the head.”

Takeshi nodded and picked up the BlackBerry. He wrote a short message and sent it.

Bishop grabbed the phone and inspected it. He copied the e-mail address into his iPRIMAL and sent it off to the Bunker; another lead to keep Flash busy.

A beep signaled a reply message and Bishop showed Takeshi.

“It is done,” the businessman said. “She will be here soon.”

“How does it usually happen?”

“They buzz, I let them in. They escort her up and then they wait outside. I pay when I am finished with her.”

“Good, now I want you to sit there and shut your mouth.” Bishop made himself comfortable in a chair, his pistol aimed at Takeshi’s face.

Saneh moved into the living room and radioed Kenta. Once she had updated him she quickly searched the apartment. At the bar she poured a tumbler of scotch, adding a vial of horse tranquilizer into the drink. In the bathroom cabinet she found a stash of pills, everything from amphetamines to Valium. She returned to the bedroom, scattered the pills on the floor, and gave Takeshi the glass of whisky. Their prisoner refused to drink until the suppressed barrel of Bishop’s pistol was pressed against his skull. A minute later he was passed out on the bed again.