Samurai Code (27 page)

35

At four o’clock that afternoon, Sammy realized something had gone wrong. He sent one car racing north while he took the road south, back to Lamai. The van was not located until five o’clock, parked at the Pavilion resort.

Another tense meeting took place in Sammy’s room.

“Goddamn it! Goddamn it! Goddamn it!” Sammy cursed as he paced back and forth. “I knew I shouldn’t have let them do it! It’s my fucking fault!”

“What are —”

“Shut the fuck up,” muttered Sammy to his subordinate. “I’m thinking.” He turned to the Thai policemen and said, “Is there a local police officer you trust completely?”

“Yes, several,” replied the men.

“I want the driver of the van questioned. Find out what he knows.”

“I understood from Jack,” said the LO, “that the driver doesn’t really know anything. If Jack is wrong, then grabbing him would alert the bad guys. Jack and Laura could be killed.”

“Yeah, and maybe they’re already dead or dying,” said Sammy, turning to the Thai policemen. “Use a hit-and-run scenario.”

“Hit and run?” they asked in unison.

“Have the driver interrogated and tell him his licence plate was taken as the result of a hit-and-run accident. Find out everywhere he went today. Please hurry.”

It was six o’clock when the Thai police reported back. The driver had been interrogated.

“He swears he was not in any accident and the only trip he made was to pick up two men from the Pavilion and a man and woman from Bill Resort and drop them all off at the Cliff Bar and Grill a couple of kilometres north of Lamai. He thinks they were getting in another van when he left to return to the Pavilion, but cannot recall anything about it. The police officer who questioned him believes he is telling the truth.”

“Would you like us to have him question the people at the Cliff Bar and Grill?” suggested the other Thai policeman. “He could pretend to be checking the driver’s story that he was not in an accident.”

“Yeah, good idea,” said Sammy quietly. “Other than that, where would you go to dump some bodies?”

***

“Hey! What’s the fuss?” yelled Jack, still sitting in the chair.

“You lied!” shouted Lee. “You are working for the police!”

“I didn’t lie,” said Jack. “Sato! Do you think I lied?”

“No,” replied Sato, “I could tell that you weren’t lying,” he said, adamantly.

“What?” yelled Lee, grabbing Sato by his arm. “You told me Jack worked for the police?”

“That’s right,” said Jack. “I told him I did. I wasn’t lying.”

“You work for the police!” said Lee, astounded.

“Of course I work with them. You know that,” he chuckled. “So do you. How do you think I learned about Goldie becoming a rat if I didn’t have friends on the inside?”

“Oh, my friend,” replied Lee, shaking his head. “That is not what we were thinking.”

“Jesus! You mean you thought I was
really
working for them? Christ, what kind of guy do you take me for? Sure, sometimes we have to scratch each other’s back a little, but come on! If you’re trying to find out if I
really
work for the police, let me prepare a few questions of my own that you can have Sato ask me. They should alleviate any doubt.”

Jack was brought a pen and paper and quickly jotted down four questions:

Have you ever purposely lied to, or deceived the police?

Have you ever committed crimes that you could be jailed for?

Have you ever disposed of and hidden a body of a murdered man?

Have you ever orchestrated or committed murder?

Sato soon appeared in the bedroom doorway again and motioned for Lee to come over before whispering the results of his findings.

“You are certain?” asked Lee.

“He answered yes to all four questions. With some of the earlier questions, my findings were inconclusive, but with these questions I am positive he is telling the truth. I also asked him how many murders he had been responsible for. He told me he had lost count. I believe him.”

“Which questions were inconclusive?” asked Lee. “Anything significant?”

“His answer to transferring money. He believes it to be available, but has some hesitation about his colleagues delivering it. It could be a simple control issue. He likes to have absolute control and lacks faith in others.”

“That, or he doubts our ability to deliver,” replied Lee. “He did not climb to the top by completely relying on others. What else was inconclusive?”

“The first question when I asked him his name brought an inconclusive result. I asked him if he has used other names. He admitted he had, but refused to say what they were.”

Lee smiled and said, “In his business that is not unusual. The important thing is he sounds like he is suited to work with our organization. Come, it is time to leave.”

Moments later, Jack gave Laura a heartfelt hug and looked over her shoulder at Lee and said, “Satisfied? Can we meet the boss now?”

“Your suitcases are still in the van,” said Lee. “All we need is you.”

***

At seven-thirty that night, Jack and Laura looked out the passenger window of a Falcon 50EX private jet as it lifted off the runway, leaving the twinkling lights of Koh Samui far behind. They were not told their destination and were still not being allowed to use their cellphones.

Laura felt Jack’s reassuring squeeze on her hand. She looked across at Sato and Da Khlot who were both staring at them.
Oh, man …

In a seat toward the front of the cabin, Lee relaxed while sipping on a Grand Marnier.
Tomorrow Jack will complete his final test. That will not be a problem. He has obviously murdered many times before.

36

They were in the air seven hours, but with the time difference, it was actually five-thirty Saturday morning when the jet touched down on a foggy, wet runway.

Lee came to the back of the plane, grinning like a Shakespearian theatre mask. He bowed deeply before Jack and Laura and with a flourish of his arm he said, “Welcome to Osaka!”

“We’re in Japan?” asked Laura, giving Jack a look like she was accusing him.

“
Kon-ni-chi-wa
,” said Lee, carefully annunciating the word. “It means hello.”

“Really?” replied Laura. “How about
sayonara
instead?”

“Come on, sweetie,” said Jack. He looked up at Lee and said, “She’s tired.”

A van picked them up and took them to a private room where a customs official quickly stamped their passports. Moments later, they boarded a chauffeured stretch limousine. Once more, Jack and Laura found themselves sitting across from Da Khlot and Sato.

“How long before we’re there?” asked Jack.

“About three hours,” replied Lee, smiling understandingly at Laura’s tired groan.

Jack tried to pay attention to the roads and signs they passed, but had little success, due to his lack of familiarity with Japanese characters. The only two signs he recognized were
NISSAN
and
TOYOTA
. He felt uncomfortable under Sato’s constant gaze and decided to feign sleeping. But minutes later, he wasn’t feigning.

Jack and Laura each awoke about two hours later. The limo was driving through a mountainous area on switchback roads. Sato and Lee were asleep, but Da Khlot sat silently, staring blankly at them.

Eventually the limo arrived at a resort and slowed down, waking those who had been sleeping.

“It is an
onsen
,” explained Lee. “A resort that incorporates a mineral hot spring to soak in. Extremely popular in Japan. The food served is also exquisite. Multiple courses, including a wide variety of dishes. Later, you both must try it.”

The limo drove past a public parking area and took a small lane up a steep incline behind the resort. The area they drove through looked like an immaculately kept park, dotted with a selection of both bonsai and cherry trees.

“I’ve heard of
onsens
,” replied Jack. “You bath nude in public hot springs, correct?”

Lee pursed his lips in a grin and then said, “I understand that Westerners dislike bathing naked in public. I should tell you, that for the most part, men and women are separated, each with their own private facility to bathe in.”

“For the most part?” asked Laura.

Lee pointed to a small structure of wooden screens and clumps of bamboo strategically located halfway up the hill from the resort. A small stream that billowed steam bubbled out from the ground higher up the hill, flowed down through the structure, then disappeared into the ground again before reaching the resort below.

“There,” said Lee, “is a private location for a man and a woman. Popular with honeymooners, but perhaps we can reserve some time for the both of you.”

“I would really like that,” said Jack, ignoring Laura’s heel as she stepped on his toes.

At the top of the incline, the limo parked in front of a four-storey mansion built in traditional Japanese style with an intricate gabled roof and tiled ends.

“This is the home of Mister Fukushima,” said Lee. “He owns the
onsen
that you see down the hill. He is the man we refer to secretly as The Shaman.”

“And how should I address Mister Fukushima?” asked Jack.

“You should refer to him as Fukushima-
san
.

“I have heard of the title
sensei
following a name in regard to a teacher,” said Laura, “or someone teaching karate simply being referred to as
sensei
. I am not familiar with
San
.”

“
San
is used in Japan to show respect,” replied Lee. “Sort of like
Mister
or
Missus
, except with the Japanese it can also be used after either the first or last name.
San
is not gender specific. You are also right about
sensei
being used in regard to someone like a teacher or perhaps a lawyer. Actually Fukushima-
san
is a master of
kenjutsu
, a form of Japanese martial art involving sword fighting. He does not teach
kenjutsu
, so the use of
sensei
with his name would be inappropriate.”

“Handy guy to have in the kitchen,” suggested Jack.

“Be careful, Jack,” warned Lee. “He is familiar with Western culture, but he is old school when it comes to honour and respect. What may be humour in your culture, may be considered a slap in the face here. If you insult Fukushima-
san
it would be a … fatal mistake.”

They were ushered inside into an elevator and brought directly to a bedroom on the third floor. Here, two futons were laid out on bamboo mats, and there were two silk kimonos and slippers at the entranceway. An ensuite off the bedroom offered a bath and shower.

“When do we meet Fukushima-
san
?” asked Jack.

“At twelve-thirty for lunch, after you have bathed and had a chance to rest,” replied Lee. “Leave your clothes by the door and they will be taken and cleaned. It will be appropriate to wear the kimonos around the building. Laura, the pale green kimono is yours. Jack, the blue.”

“Our cellphones?” asked Laura.

“I am sorry. They will be provided to you later, after you meet with Fukushima-
san
. Should you need anything, there will be two attendants outside your door.”

Jack smiled and gave a short bow to the squat, burly-looking attendants wearing kimonos who stood in the hallway. They politely bowed back and Jack caught a partial glimpse of tattoos rising toward the backs of their necks as they bowed. He noticed one of the men was missing his little finger, as was their chauffeur earlier. A self-mutilation he knew, made by some of the Japanese mafia, or the
yakuza
as they are called in Japan, as a symbol of their loyalty. Tattoos are generally seen as anti-social in Japan and are also strongly associated with the yakuza.
Attendants my ass. Thugs is what you mean.

As soon as they were alone, Laura sat on one of the futons and said, “Ouch, I think a bug bit me.”

“Wouldn’t be surprised,” said Jack, nodding in agreement. “You should get out of those clothes. Lots of bugs in Thailand. Hope you didn’t bring any hitchhikers.”

Laura then went to the washroom and closed the door.

“It will certainly be nice to meet Fukushima-
san
,” said Jack, loud enough, ostensibly for Laura to hear. “From what I have seen, I am suitably impressed with what he has accomplished. I am looking forward to doing business with him.”

“That’s nice, honey, but I’d respect him a lot more if we could use a phone. I promised my sister I would call her last night. She’ll be worried.”

“You’re right,” replied Jack. “Rose isn’t the type to sit back and wait. She’s liable to end up calling the authorities. Hopefully this afternoon we can rectify that.”

Jack walked to a window and looked out. Directly on the ground below, another “attendant” sat staring back at him on a small bench amongst a clump of cherry trees.

Jack retreated back into the room and looked around. He saw a phone jack, but no phone.
Rose will be freaked out. Sammy and his crew will be tearing Koh Samui apart looking for us. Too bad they’re looking on the wrong island, let alone the wrong country.

He heard the shower running as Laura got in, but her voice still carried, “Jack, would you be a dear and bring me my kimono? I’m all wet and don’t want to come out.”

Jack found Laura standing in the shower stall with her head sticking out the sliding door. She had a towel wrapped around herself and the shower head was pointed at the wall.

“Here you go, hon,” he said, before flushing the toilet.

“Make it quick,” he whispered.

“What are we going to do?”

“Meet the boss and get details on the shipment.”

“He’ll want money.”

“At that point he’ll have incriminated himself. I’ll tell him I need to use a phone to make plans to get the money. When I do, I’ll call Rose. She can trace the call back to us. I’ll also demand to see the dope put on a ship before the final transfer of funds. When that happens, if we haven’t already been rescued, we’re bound to be in a public place. We escape the first chance we get and call the cavalry. In the meantime, we’ll show respect, but we want him to respect us, as well. Maybe keep him a little off balance.”

“Good idea, as long as he isn’t insulted and decides to kill us.”

The sound of the toilet died down and Jack said, “Here, honey, let me soap your back.”

Laura slammed the door shut and smiled when Jack left the bathroom. They often used humour to relieve stress. Right now she could use a truckload of it.

***

Both Jack and Laura felt a little refreshed from their showers and each put on the kimonos and slippers that had been supplied.

At twelve-thirty, Lee came to their room. “Laura, you look great. Jack, you should have the left side of your kimono overlapping on top of the right side. The way you are wearing it is how it would be worn if you were dead.”

I might be, soon.

Lee saw Laura with a tissue in her hand, about to shove it inside the sash holding her kimono. “And Laura, kimonos do have pockets inside the sleeves.”

Jack and Laura each held an arm up and realized that the large drooping sleeves were sewn in a fashion to form pockets, easily accessible by the opposite hand.

“Everything okay?” asked Lee, as Jack rearranged his kimono.

“Fine,” replied Jack, “except for the slippers.”

Lee nodded when he saw Jack’s heels extending well beyond the length of the slip-on slippers. “Not made for Westerners,” he said. “Come, follow me. Fukushima-
san
is prepared to meet you. We will then have lunch, after which he would like to visit with you in private.”

“You mean, talk business?” asked Jack.

“Yes, after he gets to know you a little.”

They were brought back down to the first floor where Lee led them to a double set of doors comprised of thin, dark wooden slats forming squares of wood over rice paper. Two more attendants stood outside, but both bowed and one opened the door.

They stepped inside and Lee immediately bowed deeply to a man standing inside the room, wearing a black silk kimono. It was emblazoned with five family crests. Jack and Laura took their cue from Lee and also bowed slightly.

“Fukushima-
san
,” said Lee, solemnly, while automatically avoiding direct eye contact with his master. “This is —”

“Jack and Laura,” said Jack, maintaining his best poker face as he stared brazenly at the man and held his hand out. He guessed Fukushima to be in his early fifties and presumed that his straight, black, collar-length hair had been dyed. He was shorter than Jack, with the top of his head about as high as Jack’s chin.

“It is okay,” said Fukushima, walking forward and extending his hand. “I went to university in Los Angeles when I was a young man. I am somewhat familiar with your Western culture.”

Jack accepted his firm grip and noted that Fukushima moved gracefully as he walked. From behind, Fukushima could have passed for a man in his thirties. It was his rugged face that betrayed his real age. He appeared gentle, but Jack knew appearances were deceptive.
The reality is that he finds killing to be an amusing pastime.

“Have either of you been to an
onsen
before?” asked Fukushima.

“Never,” replied Jack and Laura.

“I think you will enjoy it. After lunch, I will give you a tour and introduce you to the pleasure of soaking in the hot springs. I think you will find it relaxing. We will then talk.” Fukushima glanced toward the door and said, “Oh, let me introduce you to Sayomoi-
san
, my personal attendant. Khlot-
san
, I believe, you have already met.”

Jack turned to see Da Khlot, wearing a black kimono, entering the room with a strikingly beautiful Japanese woman beside him. Her black hair hung halfway to her waist and she was wearing a red silk kimono that contrasted with a pattern of branches adorned with cherry blossoms. She was in her late twenties and, unlike other Japanese women he had seen, she held her head high and had no qualms about maintaining direct eye contact. She gave the impression and air of confidence, of having been raised in a wealthy family. Her smile, Jack decided, looked contemptuous, particularly when she stared at Laura.

Introductions to Sayomi were made and Fukushima said, “Laura, I understand that you and Sayomi-
san
have something in common. Sayomi-
san
has achieved a black belt in karate and kick-boxing.”