Collector of Secrets (21 page)

“Ahhh!” Tomoko swiped away a cobweb. “We should have used the stairs.”

The plastic bag went over the fence first, just before Max winked and wove his fingers together, motioning for her to step into his outstretched palms. She did not appear convinced. “If I hurt myself, you’re in big trouble.” Stepping up, Tomoko grunted and disappeared over the fence top.

He could hear her brushing herself off. “Here, take this.” Max swung the daypack over the wall before pulling himself up and over.

They were standing on the south side of the Fairlady
onsen
, with a rectangular window directly ahead. “This is Mrs. Kanazawa’s office,” she whispered, leaning forward. Cupping her hands to block out the sunlight, she pressed her face against the glass. But a short, sharp gasp escaped her lips as she stumbled backward and slammed against the fence. Her face twisted in soundless terror before she leaned down to vomit uncontrollably on the ground.

Max leaped to the window, tensing as he peered inside.

Mrs. Kanazawa’s lifeless body was slumped forward across her desk. Her pinned-up hair hung loosely to the side of her oddly twisted head. Bright blood ran down the desk front, like a scarlet scarf draped below her vacant face. Through the partially open office door, he could see the back of Thick Neck
.
The killer was watching the front door while keeping himself shielded from direct view.

“She’s dead!” Max gasped, spinning around to gather Tomoko into his arms, before pulling her back to the wall, away from the window. Her body was shaking with irrepressible shock, and he struggled to form his own screaming thoughts into a cohesive plan. “Sh-sh-sh-sh. You’re all right. You’re all right.” He was hoping that saying it would make it seem more believable. Seconds ticked by as he rocked her gently and stroked her hair.

We can’t stay here. These guys will kill us for sure.

His voice was quiet but firm. “Give me your keys. We have to move.”

Sobbing, she dug into her front pocket.

Fear gripped Max’s mind, but he was much calmer than he expected—someone had to be. “Tomoko . . . Hey, look at me . . . do you trust me?”

She sniffed an acknowledgment and wiped at her streaming eyes.

“If we stay, they’ll find us. We have to go.” Max kept a loose grip on her upper arm as they edged forward along the side of the building. Her sobs grew more controlled. Peering around the corner, he saw the back of their SUV parked ten paces past the sliding glass door. “If we make a run for it, we can get past the front door, into the car.”

Edging out farther, he spotted the roof of a van parked at the far end of the sloping U-shaped driveway. “Damn it! They’ve blocked the best exit! And I’ll bet that second guy is waiting in the van.”

Max’s foot bumped against a fist-sized rock in the flowerbed, and he paused briefly before glancing back at Tomoko’s tortured expression. “I have an idea. How good is your throwing arm?”

HIRO ADJUSTED his silver aviator sunglasses, then went back to methodically clenching and releasing his fists while pacing on the patio just back from the Izu hillside. It was clear that Jun loved being in charge—he’d been almost gleeful when snapping instructions.

Hiro turned to glance across the clear blue water of the
onsen
’s outdoor hot pool. He could see Jun in the lobby, pacing before the reception counter, keeping an eye on the front door while gruffly informing the startled hotel patrons that the pool was closed for cleaning.

The lobby’s rear glass doors were propped wide open, leading into the ornate back garden with its carefully tended flowers and sculptured shrubs. The hotel owner had obviously been a gardener who loved her plants, and he felt sick thinking of her lifeless body now lying in the side office.

My father was a gang member his whole life and he never killed. This is not how it’s supposed to be. The ancient principles of
machi-yakko
instruct us to help the weak and oppose the strong . . . not murder them.

Mrs. Kanazawa had steadfastly refused to divulge any guest information to Jun. Standing defiantly behind her office desk, she was tough as nails, her resolve unflinching. Finally making good on her threat to call the police, she reached for the office phone. But the
Surujin
flew with incredible speed, and the chubby woman had time to dial only a single number before the chain’s weighted end wrapped around her neck, pulling her forward onto the desktop. A slash across her throat from the razor-sharp knife ended the discussion.

We’ve become like masterless samurai, nothing more than common criminals.

The beach below appeared empty. Hiro secretly wished the American wouldn’t show up. It was Jun’s turn to look the part of the fool. And it also meant that Tomoko wouldn’t come to harm. Her lovely face was etched in Hiro’s memory, as if he were still holding her picture in his hands.

Suddenly from behind came the crash of splintering glass. The burst of sound sent Hiro racing toward the lobby. Dashing along the pool’s curving rim, he looked forward and glimpsed a lone figure streaking past the front of the hotel. Scrambling up and into the lobby, Hiro glanced to his left. Jun was charging from the office, holding a rock.

The air filled with the sound of a roaring engine.

Hiro grappled with the handle of the sliding door, finally wrenching it open just as a silver SUV shot past, heading toward the driveway entrance. From behind, he felt two fists hammer him in the back, sending him sprawling onto the stone walkway, as Jun raced past on an interception course.

The SUV slowed near the azaleas, and the passenger’s side door flew open. Lying on the ground, Hiro stared as Tomoko’s slender figure come to life. She dashed from the building’s corner, her long black hair billowing as she dived inside the vehicle. The tires squealed, filling the air with smoky gray residue and the smell of burning rubber.

Jun’s charging grunt became a hysterical shriek to stop.
“Yamete!”
He leaped forward and slammed into the vehicle’s side. His hands clawed at the air before finally grasping the roof rack, and he jammed a foot into the closing door.

Bucking wildly, the SUV plowed over the driveway’s curb and pressed hard against the shrubs. The thorny bushes became an army of tiny swords. Jun’s guttural screams filled the air as the branches slashed at his face and arms, finally knocking him from his slender perch. Hiro watched him slam onto the driveway’s hardtop, somersaulting him into a sprawling pose, where he lay still. The SUV bounced from the driveway into the street and made a sharp turn before disappearing from sight.

“O
pposite side of the road, Max! Drive on the left side!” Tomoko grabbed at the steering wheel while the fishtailing vehicle tore into the right lane. An oncoming delivery truck blasted its horn, then careened onto the sidewalk to avoid a head-on collision.

“Woah! Shit!” Max felt wild with fear. His eyes flicked from the road to Tomoko to the rear-view mirror and back again. His heart was racing, and his neck was as tight as piano wires. But he was pumped with exhilaration. They’d made it.

Tomoko turned to stare out the back window and her voice shook. “Are they following?”

The approaching traffic light changed to red. In front, a single mid-size sedan sat idling, its signal light blinking yellow in methodical rhythm. Heavy cross traffic flowed through the exchange. It seemed like far too many cars for a weekday lunch hour.

Max slowed the vehicle and glanced anxiously over his shoulder. “I can’t see them, but they don’t give up easily. You should put on your seatbelt.” He drummed both hands on the steering wheel. Tomoko remained half turned in her seat. The traffic light was staying red far too long. The seconds dragged by, and when Max heard Tomoko gasp, he didn’t bother looking back. Instinctively, he slammed the vehicle into a short reverse before executing a forward arc around the waiting sedan. Glancing briefly to the right, he prayed for the best and jammed hard on the accelerator, causing the SUV to jump forward into the crossroad. Horns blared as cars swerved and skidded.

The SUV raced along with the traffic. Weaving wildly back and forth, Max surged into the oncoming lane repeatedly and pushed forward one car-length at a time. Shocked drivers shook their fists in protest. Minutes ticked by while they wove an erratic path northward.

The congestion increased, the traffic flow slowing before finally grinding to a stop.

“This is bad.” Tomoko’s words broke Max’s concentration. “We’re heading into the town center. We need to go west. Away from the city.” The traffic inched forward.

“I’ll try, but we’re not going anywhere in a hurry.” Max glanced into the left-side mirror. His heart stuck in his throat. Thick Neck was on foot, charging toward them. The man’s grim face wore a mask of determination, and his massive bulk swayed left and right while he pushed pedestrians aside. He was only seconds away. Throwing the gearshift into reverse, Max crushed the bumper on the car behind.

Tomoko shrieked as the SUV shot forward onto the sidewalk. “What are you doing?”

“Surviving!” Max shouted, “Put on your seatbelt!” He pressed repeatedly on the horn as they flew along the sidewalk. Two startled teenagers stood in front, frozen like deer in the headlights. At the last second, Max jammed the racing vehicle to the left, within inches of a wrought-iron fence. Glass and plastic exploded as the passenger’s side mirror blew into a million pieces, but they managed to narrowly miss the gawking teens.

Max leaned on the squawking horn. A construction site lay fifty yards down the road, but directly ahead, on the sidewalk, sat a vendor. Tomoko screamed. The gesturing owner finally abandoned his post by dashing into the street. The food stand was no match for the charging vehicle. The square aluminum frame molded to the shape of the bumper before the cart was tossed high into the air, slamming down onto the hood of a nearby taxi.
Yakisoba
filled the sky and drenched the area in sweet noodles and syrupy brown sauce.

Max groped for the wiper switch as he swerved to avoid a collision with a telephone pole. The slender spray of washer fluid fought against the brown sludge on the windshield. Fear had now changed to sheer terror. The heavy fence they were racing beside could easily shred the SUV.

Sidewalk changed to gravel as they neared the entrance to a construction site on the left. Max wrenched the wheel sharply, sending them into a sliding skid.

Max fought hard to regain control. The cab bucked and bounced over the uneven earth. Weaving to avoid the construction workers made it impossible to see anything in the rearview mirror. Beside him, Tomoko appeared apoplectic, but there was no time to console her now. His foot jammed the gas pedal with certainty. The
Yakuza
weren’t likely to give up just to avoid a traffic ticket. And he was sure they were close behind, marking the same erratic path.

He shouted and waved frantically.
“Outta the way!”

The bully on the playground wasn’t just wielding his fists. This time around, death was being dealt. Kazue Saito and Mrs. Kanazawa had underestimated the threat, and it had cost them their lives. Max was resolute that he wouldn’t make the same mistake.

T
he police dispatcher’s sweaty fingers pressed the button at the microphone’s base. An SUV was racing northward toward Odawara, with a gray van in hot pursuit. The call for police support was confirmed by two black-and-whites. The first patrol car was in the area, while a second car, in the Hakone Mountains to the west, made a southern approach along a winding country road.

T
he SUV burst through a metal fence and bounced into the adjoining road. A trail of torn earth, shattered equipment, and stunned victims lay strewn behind. The van was hot on the SUV’s trail, having managed to gain ground.

Simultaneously weaving along the narrow hillside roads, the two nearly conjoined vehicles dodged bicycles and pedestrians. Bewildered citizens stared on as the screaming vehicles raced by on the normally tranquil roads.

The sing-song rhythms of a lone siren grew louder as the first police car finally caught the charging drag-racers—the two license plate numbers now surely being radioed by dispatch.

The van pulled into the oncoming lane and began hammering the SUV’s right side, sending it dangerously close to the road’s cliffside edge. Max held a vicelike grip on the steering wheel, struggling to maintain his vehicle’s tenuous position. Metal panels screeched and twisted against the violent blows and counter-blows.