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Authors: David Hagberg

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BOOK: Critical Mass
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He ejected the spent clip from his Walther PPK, slapped
home a fresh one, relevered the ejection slide and jumped up as the Mercedes accelerated down the street.
He managed to get off two shots before the risk of hitting an innocent bystander became too great. Then he turned, looked toward the still-burning remains of Mowry and the cop, holstered his pistol and hurried back to Kelley Fuller, who was shaking with fear and rage. The sirens were very close now.
“We have to get out of here,” he told her. “But you're going to have to act normal.”
“What?” she cried incredulously, but she didn't resist as McGarvey took her arm and led her away, back toward the Imperial Palace gardens, past the Police Headquarters build-wing.
“WHO THE HELL WAS THAT BASTARD?” TANAKA DEMANDED. He was an expert driver and he knew Tokyo very well. He'd gotten them clear before the police arrived.
“I don't know,” Igarshi shouted wildly. “He came out of nowhere. Kozo didn't have a chance.”
“We have to find out. He's with the girl, and she may know too much.”
“We have to kill them,” Heidinora Daishi said from the front seat. “They're witnesses.” He'd killed Mowry's two bodyguards in the Toyota.
“I agree,” Tanaka said. He glanced in the rearview mirror at Igarshi who was changing out of the police uniform. “Are you injured?”
“Just a scratch on my leg. But it was close.”
“Did you see where they were headed?” Heidinora asked. He was a bulldog of a man, with a short, thick torso and massive arms. He was a ruthless, efficient killer.
“The Imperial Palace,” Tanaka replied through clenched teeth. “We'll go there now and finish the job.”
“We'd better,” Igarshi muttered. “I for one don't want to go back empty-handed. But we have no flamethrower.”
“It doesn't matter. We'll enter the garden from three different directions to cut off any possible escape. The moment we spot them we shoot.”
“What about the car?”
“We'll leave it,” Tanaka said, hauling the big car around the corner onto Hibaya-dori Avenue. He pulled up in front of the east gate into the Imperial Palace's Outer Garden. “Take
this entrance,” he told Heidinora. “Igarshi and I will come from the south side and drive them toward you.”
“Very well,” Heidinora growled, and he got out of the car and entered the garden.
 
Police units seemed to be converging from all over the city on the scene of the killings. Violent crime was relatively unknown in Tokyo, and when it occurred the police were quick to respond. McGarvey led a shaken Kelley Fuller across Harumi-dori Avenue into the Imperial Palace's Outer Garden. Most of the joggers were already gone on their circuit of the palace grounds, but a few stood at the outer portal looking to where black smoke rose into the morning sky.
“They weren't the police,” Kelley said.
“You're right, but there's nothing we can do about it for the moment,” McGarvey said. He pulled up short just within the garden and studied the approaches behind them. The Mercedes would be back. Today's attack had been well planned and coordinated. Whoever they were, they would not want to leave any loose ends dangling.
“I tried to warn Mowry, but his secretary told me that he'd already left. And your hotel said you hadn't checked in yet.”
“Where were you going?”
“I was trying to lead them away. But God, I didn't know this would happen.” She was distraught, and clearly on the verge of breaking down.
“All right, listen to me. They saw which way we headed, and they're probably going to come back for us. Have you got someplace to go? Someplace where you can hide at least for the rest of the morning?”
“I had an apartment, but I'm not going there now,” she said. “Maybe the embassy.”
“No,” McGarvey said. “The moment the authorities found out you were there they'd demand that you be turned over to them. You're a material witness to at least one killing.”
“So are you,” she said.
“That's right. But so long as we make no contact with the embassy the police won't know who we are.”
“That's just great,” Kelley said bleakly. “If we run for safety the Japanese police will take us. If we stay on the streets, the maniacs who killed Shirley and Mowry will have us.”
“I want you to go over to my hotel and wait for me in the coffee shop, or the lobby. Anyplace that's public, where there are a lot of people.”
Kelley's eyes widened. “What are you talking about? You mean right now?”
“Yes. Take a cab.”
“What about you … ?” She looked closely at him. “You're going to wait here for them?”
“One of them is already dead, and I may have wounded the second. Which leaves two more, possibly three. I'd like to even the odds a bit, and then have a little chat with whoever is left.”
“You're crazy.”
“So I've been told.”
“You saw what they did to Mowry. God, they did the same thing to Shirley.”
The red Mercedes slid to a halt a hundred feet away on Harumi-dori Avenue. McGarvey spotted it out of the corner of his eye and pulled Kelley back out of sight behind the gate as a slightly built man got out of the back and started up the broad pedestrian walkway. He was limping. The car left immediately, but not before McGarvey saw that the driver was now the sole occupant.
“He's the one from the van,” Kelley said. “At least I think so. But he was wearing a uniform then.”
“It's the same one,” McGarvey said. “But one of them is missing. He's probably somewhere behind us, and this one means to drive us into him.”
Kelley looked wildly from the approaching figure, back down the tree-lined concourse that led into the garden. Already the park was beginning to fill up. “We have no idea what he looks like.”
McGarvey had gotten a vague impression of a bulky man in the front passenger seat, but he had not gotten a clear look. “No, but he shouldn't be so hard to spot once this one tells me what he looks like.”
The driver of the Mercedes would probably abandon the car and come in from the west, boxing them in, leaving them only one direction to run. The killers were taking a big risk of being spotted by the police, which meant they considered McGarvey and Kelley very important.
“We can let him pass and duck out behind him,” Kelley said.
The police imposter was less than fifty feet away, his right hand stuffed into the light brown jacket he wore now. Passerby didn't look directly at him; the Japanese were too polite to stare. But it was clear that his presence, blood on one leg of his trousers, was causing a stir. It would be only a matter of a few minutes before the alarm was sounded and the police showed up.
“As soon as he comes through I want you to do just that,” McGarvey said. “Grab a cab and get out of here.”
“I don't want to leave you here like this, not with three-to-one odds,” she argued, and McGarvey looked at her with a new respect. She was frightened half out of her mind, but she was willing to stay and help.
“Are you armed?”
“No.”
“Then go to the hotel and wait for me there.”
The killer was nearing the gate, and McGarvey pulled Kelley farther back behind the portal, so that they were completely hidden for the moment.
“What if you don't show up?” she whispered urgently.
McGarvey took out his pistol and switched the safety off. This was the last of the ammunition he had with him. But he was going to avoid at all costs any kind of a shootout here in a public park.
“If I'm not back by noon, make contact with Phil Carrara, he'll know what to do,” McGarvey said. “Now get ready to go.”
“This is stupid,” she whispered in desperation.
“You can say that again,” McGarvey agreed.
The man came through the gate, and as soon as he was past, McGarvey stepped out from around the portal and fell in behind him. Kelley darted around the corner and out the gate.
“I don't want to kill you, but I will unless you do exactly as I say,” McGarvey said in a conversational tone.
Igarshi practically jumped out of his skin. His step faltered and he started to withdraw his hand from his pocket.
“I killed your friend back there, I won't hesitate to put a bullet in your spine,” McGarvey warned.
“Who are you? What do you want here?” Igarshi demanded, his English very bad but understandable.
“My questions,” McGarvey said. “But first I want to know who hired you to kill Shirley and Mowry …”
Igarshi was incredibly fast. With his right elbow he knocked McGarvey's gun hand aside, and then spun around, smashing three well-aimed blows into McGarvey's chest and throat within the space of barely one second.
On instinct alone, McGarvey was just able to fall back, sidestepping the killer's next blows, and smash the butt of his pistol into the back of the man's neck. Igarshi went down with a grunt.
Several people stopped and turned to see what the commotion was all about, and McGarvey stepped back, bringing up his gun as the Mercedes driver came down the broad path on the left in a dead run.
Tanaka fired three shots, one of them hitting a bystander, one smacking into a tree and the third plucking at McGarvey's sleeve.
McGarvey turned sideways to present less of himself as a target, and squeezed off two measured shots, both hitting the oncoming Japanese in the chest, driving him to his knees and then down.
A woman was screaming and another woman was down on her knees beside the bystander who'd been shot, wailing and wringing her hands.
McGarvey hauled the dazed Igarshi over on his back. “Who hired you to kill Shirley and Mowry?” he demanded. There wasn't much time. Already in the distance there were more sirens.
Igarshi snarled something in Japanese and lunged upward, grabbing the barrel of McGarvey's pistol. The gun discharged, the bullet entering the man's forehead, his head bouncing off the gravel path and his eyes filling with blood.
He'd committed suicide!
McGarvey recoiled and then looked up as a heavyset man built like a Sherman tank came charging down the main concourse. He looked like a wild animal.
Stepping back, McGarvey brought up his pistol in both hands and crouched in the shooter's stance. Heidinora stopped in his tracks ten feet away. He was unarmed, an expression of pure hatred on his round, rough-featured face. The sirens were much closer now, and it was clear that he heard them.
“I don't want to kill you, but I will not leave Tokyo until I have answers,” McGarvey said.
Heidinora backed up, his hands spread in a gesture of peace.
“Remember my face,” McGarvey said, lowering his pistol. “I'll want answers to my questions.”
Heidinora nodded once, then turned on his heel and walked off. Holstering his pistol, McGarvey turned in the opposite direction and headed out the gate to Harumi-dori Avenue.
MONACO
JULY 9, 1992
A GENTLE SEA BREEZE RUFFLED THE POTTED FLOWERS ON THE veranda of the villa that overlooked the Principality of Monaco and the azure Mediterranean. Surrounded by fragrant eucalyptus trees, the expansive, low, stuccoed house was enclosed within a tall concrete fence topped with glass shards. Doberman pinschers patrolled the grounds at night, and along with a sophisticated system of extremely low-light-capable closed-circuit television monitors, the Villa Ambrosia was a relatively secure fortress without being ostentatiously so.
Ernst Spranger, dressed in sandals, white slacks and a bright yellow short-sleeved Izod, came out to the veranda to greet his guest who'd just been announced. The short, slightly built man stood at the low rail, looking at a half-dozen sailboats in the distance. It was just eight in the morning, and Spranger was in a pensive mood in part because of the events, or lack of events, over the past few days, and in part because of this man's unexpected presence.
“Your coming here today may cause us a problem, unless you took care not to be seen,” Spranger said.
The Japanese man turned around and smiled. “You should not worry about such inconsequential details when there are so many other things to be concerned about, Herr Spranger.”
Spranger crossed the veranda and shook hands with the man. “Nonetheless, Mr. Endo, I trust you took the proper precautions.”
“Naturally.”
“You understand that we have other clients who must also be protected.”
The expression in Endo's eyes was unfathomable, but he did not stop smiling. “My message will be brief, but let us sit down together as friends, still.”
Liese was watching and listening from a room in the rear that contained the villa's security equipment. Later they would go over the tape together to make sure neither of them had missed anything.
The Italian houseboy served them tea when they were settled and after he withdrew, Endo pushed his cup aside and sat forward.
“Tell me what progress you have made concerning Mr. McGarvey. It is still our wish to stop the man.”
“We have temporarily lost direct track of him in Washington. My people there think he may have left the area, but at this point we're still not certain. In any event, it's not our intention to confront him directly … and certainly not on his home ground.”
“Your intentions are … ?”
“To lure him back to Europe, of course, where we will set up a killing zone of our own choosing.”
“When and where will this be accomplished?”
“The when is very soon, but to answer your question about where is more complicated. We have reliable intelligence that McGarvey may be an extraordinary man who might not be so easily cornered and killed. First he must be given an incentive to do what we wish, and then he must be softened up. But the odds are with us. We'll stack them that way.”
“Are you afraid of this man?”
Spranger bridled at the question. “Of course not.”
Endo shook his head. “You should be, Herr Spranger.”
“What do you mean?”
“Mr. McGarvey is presently in Tokyo, where he gunned down three of our people in cold blood. And in broad daylight, I might add, with all of the odds, as you say, stacked against him. Now the police are investigating us as
well as the Americans. It is an intolerable situation. One which we have paid your organization a great deal of money to prevent.”
The news was stunning. Spranger needed time to think. “Has he gone back to work for the CIA?”
“The fact that he was so recently in Washington makes that a distinct possibility. As does the fact that he was seen with a woman who has been identified as the mistress of two CIA officers.”
“Who are these men?”
“The chief of station and his assistant,” Endo said. “We eliminated both of them.”
“Verdammt,”
Spranger swore. “Is the CIA investigating your operation?”
“That is no concern of yours, Herr Spranger. This man must be made to leave Tokyo. Immediately.”
“If you're being investigated by the CIA, if they are making the connection between you and what happened in Paris, then our entire contract is in grave jeopardy.”
“The connection has not been made as yet. But time is of the essence. You must lure McGarvey out of Japan immediately.”
“It may take some time,” Spranger said, his thoughts racing. “There are certain details still to be worked out.”
“Work them out,” Endo said, standing. “You have twenty-four hours in which to do it.”
Spranger looked up. “Or else?”
“We will cancel our contract with you, and demand an immediate repayment of all monies we've paid to date.”
“Don't threaten me,” Spranger warned.
“Our reach is much longer than you would think,” the Japanese said. “Do this for us and you will be a wealthy man. Fail and you will die.”
Endo turned and left the veranda. His car and driver had waited in front for him.
Liese, wearing a stunningly revealing string bikini, came out of the house a moment later, and sat down across from Spranger. She was smiling.
“Why the hell did the bastard go to Tokyo?” Spranger asked. “What the hell is he playing at now?”
“It doesn't matter,” Liese said.
Spranger focused on her. “What are you talking about?”
“The news from Bern,” she said sweetly. “It has finally come.”
“I see,” Spranger said, grinning. It was as if a giant weight had been taken off his shoulders.
BOOK: Critical Mass
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