Collector of Secrets (36 page)

He reached a hand around the stone corner and leaned back against the lineman’s belt, releasing a roar as he swung hard away from the chimney, back in the direction he’d come, kicking his legs horizontal. His feet struck Thick Neck squarely in the shins, breaking the man’s single-armed grip on the chimney’s top, sending him reeling backward before he slid down the roof’s back slope.

The sudden force of weight tested the limits of the lineman’s belt as Max dropped hard, crashing into the chimney’s side. The collision hammered the wind from his lungs, and he could taste blood. He gasped for air. But even as he hung against the rope, his hands and feet instinctively struggled for a hold. Using every ounce of remaining strength, he clawed back up the stones, barely noticing the
Yakuza
’s screams for help as he collapsed back onto the asphalt rooftop, gasping.

Looking up, he saw that Thick Neck had slid down to the roof’s back edge. The top of the thug’s torso was flat against the shingles, but his feet and waist were kicking into empty space over the sixty-foot drop. He was using friction to slow his gradual slide downward as he shouted for help.
“Tasukete! . . . Tasukete! . . . Tasukete!”

Max hugged his aching ribs as he stood up straight, straddling the peak. He freed himself by pulling the rope back over the chimney’s top.

“Tasukete!”

Reliving the image of Thick Neck drawing a finger across his throat, Max spat blood as he shouted his greatest fear. “Did you hurt her?”

“Tasukete!”

“I’ll kill you, asshole!
Itsu?
—when did you see her?”

Thick Neck’s eyes were wild with fear. “Tomoko—okay.”

“Okay? You’re sure she’s okay?” Max was struggling to free the rope from his waist, intending to toss the end down.

“Okay—Tasukete! . . . Tasukete!”
The deep voice shifted to a whimper as the
Yakuza
slid farther over the edge.

Suddenly the absurdity of his good intention hit home.
Help you? Are you joking?
“What am I doing? You expect me to save you? After everything you’ve done? After killing Mrs. Kanazawa?” He rose to his feet. “Go to hell.” Turning, he lay flat, edging down to the cabin’s front before swinging to the deck below. As he gathered up the daypack and turned off the deck lights, he heard the bloodcurdling scream of Thick Neck plunging to the ground.

Rage and exhaustion washed over Max.

Sayonara, asshole.

M
ax stuck close to the shrubs as he crept from the trees on the north side of the central garden. There was enough ambient moonlight to navigate without the flashlight. Following the eastern boundary, he was on edge, focused, watching closely for any signs of movement.

Before long, he could see the thatched hut near the flagpole. He dashed to the building and hugged the perimeter as he scrambled around to the opposite side. Crouching, he tried to calm his labored breathing.

Ben materialized from behind a bush. “Where have you been?”

“One of them found me. The same guy who chased me in Tokyo.” Max licked at his bleeding lip. “And he told me Tomoko is dead!”

Ben gripped his arm in solidarity. “I am so sorry.”

“But then he changed his story and said she was okay, so I don’t know what to believe. What if she’s been caught? How do I save her?” Max asked helplessly, certain now that there was nothing anyone could do to stop the spiraling descent into madness.

A half-dozen heart beats passed before Ben replied, “Wait here.” He turned and vanished inside the hut.

Max listened to the trees and the wind and his own rushing blood, thinking how angry he’d been on the train and then imagining Tomoko abducted by the
Yakuza
, realizing with regret that it was his own stubbornness which had forced her into such a difficult dilemma. She’d been willing to challenge the norm, and he’d admired her for that, encouraging defiance of the way things had always been done, but then when she’d asked for help to uphold just one tradition―caring for her parents―he’d dismissed the request without a thought.
I should have listened. I should have paid attention.

Ben rematerialized a few feet away, one arm full. “There are still at least three men. You’re not safe here. You have to go. Here—take this with you.” He pressed forward a wrapped cloth bundle.

“Aren’t you coming?” Max took hold of the offering reluctantly. “Where’s your wife?”

“We’re not leaving our home.”

“But they have guns. They’ll kill you!”

“We know where to hide. Now listen. Inside here is the yellow diary, and also its companion.”

“What?” Max couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Another diary?”

“Yes, but only the prince and few select people knew about the second one. You need to take them both. It’s the only way you can help Tomoko.” Ben’s voice wavered. “I don’t wish your story to be the same as mine.”

Max opened his mouth, about to speak, when the realization struck hard. “Oh my God―you mean like your sister.”

“Yes . . . so listen!” A silent figure could now be seen exiting the trees on the garden’s north as Ben pressed on. “This is a continuation of the prince’s life story. The secrets in it are powerful. You must take great care. Many have died to keep it safe.”

“I don’t understand. What do I do with it?” He wanted to believe the books could make a difference, but it didn’t seem possible.

“Go to Okinawa. Use them to find what you need.”

“You mean the Southern Islands?” Frustrated, Max ran a hand through his hair. Little of what he was hearing made any sense. “Why? What’s there?”

A second figure emerged from the forest, behind the first.

“I’m sorry. There’s no time to explain. Go to Okinawa Island. The blue diary is written in English—read it and find what it shows you.”

“I can’t. It’s too risky.” He held out the bundle. “I can’t do it, Ben.”

“You must use it to save her . . . it’s your destiny.”

The intensity of the moment felt overwhelming and he closed his eyes. Only days earlier, Mr. Murayama had uttered the same fateful words. Images of the Korean Queen, and the past week, and Tomoko’s smiling face flew by like a slideshow. Finally he spoke, astonished to hear himself agreeing. “All right . . . I’ll try.”

“Good man.” Ben placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “But remember one thing. Make sure to guard the real treasure until the time is right.” Ben’s head flicked up, and Max followed the direction of his gaze. The two silhouetted figures had been joined by a third, and the group was moving down to the pond and across the arching bridge. “You’ll know what I mean when the time comes.” He pointed south. “Now go through the trees. Walk straight. When you come to the main road, go across it and back into the forest. The hill will drop, and you’ll find a stream. Follow the water’s flow. It will lead you to town.”

“Thank you, for everything.”

“You’re welcome.” Ben motioned with both hands. “You must go. Quickly!”

Max dashed into the trees before stopping to peer back. He watched the old caretaker vanish into the shadows.
Good luck, Ben.

“YOU CALLED for me, sir?” The mustached police commander respectfully stood at attention.

“Come in.” Masami Ishi continued to gaze out the window at the morning sunlight. “Do you have a girlfriend, commander?”

“Not right now.” The man muttered, his eyes puzzling over the personal nature of the question.

“That can be fixed once you return from Nara.” He turned to face the room. “I have just the girl for you to meet. She is extraordinary.”

“Thank you.” The commander adjusted his wrinkled shirt. “Did you say I’m going to Nara?”

“Yes. You’re here because I’m sending you on a special assignment—a hunt for the American.”

“But shouldn’t the matter be handled by the regional police bureau for that area?”

Masami Ishi knew he was exceeding his jurisdictional mandate, but he’d be damned if a mere boy was going to rob him of his chance to retire in luxury. This truth could never be revealed, so a lie would have to do, and the popular media had supplied him with all the ammunition he needed. He walked around and half sat on the desk’s front edge. “I’m going to tell you something that you need to keep only between us.”

The commander stood a bit straighter.

“I’ve been coordinating with the Public Security Investigation Agency. They’ve had Max Travers under surveillance for a while. It appears that he’s working with one or more terrorist groups in this country.” He patted a fake file lying thick on the desk. “In fact, they were just getting ready to arrest him when the burglary incident occurred.”

“Why would he be working with terrorist groups?” The commander seemed skeptical, but Masami Ishi could tell that he wanted to believe.

“Money.”

“Are the burglary and the Izu incident both related to this?”

“At this point, it’s unclear.” Masami Ishi punched a fist into his open hand. “But if we can get him alone, we may be able to get some details—names, places, dates, that sort of thing. And this all has to be done very quietly, so the other terrorists don’t get spooked.”

“What about the American government?”

Masami Ishi laughed. “If their government can keep prisoners indefinitely at Guantanamo Bay, then they’ll have little cause to complain about us holding Mr. Travers for a short period before laying formal charges.”

“Yes, I understand, sir. But why Nara?”

“A phone call came in this morning. There was an attack at a private residence just outside the city last night. The woman of the house reported it, and she gave Max Travers’ name. It looks like he was there, along with several
Yakuza
.”

“But that doesn’t add up. The gangsters appeared to be chasing him on the Izu Peninsula.”

“I’m sure it will all make sense in time.” The conversation needed to be wrapped up before many more questions could be asked. “Perhaps once we catch him, we can figure it out. An airplane is being readied to take you to Osaka. Find him!”

“And my team?”

“No. Too many of us arriving at once could draw the attention of the local authorities. Only you will go for now. We need to keep this under wraps. I’ll inform my counterpart in Osaka when the time is right.”

“Shouldn’t the Public Security Investigation Agency have men working to find him? It’s a very unusual request, sir. I’m not sure that—”

“Stop!” Masami Ishi pushed up from his half-seated position, his eyes bulging far more than normal. As he stepped forward, his comb-over slid down his forehead, adding to his semi-crazed look. “Are you questioning me in a matter of national security?”

“Of course not!” The commander bowed low.

“Good! Now get some clothes and get on the damned plane.” He moved closer to the younger officer. “And if I hear that you’ve spoken of this to anyone, I’ll have your head on my desk.”

“I understand.” The commander bowed again.

“Oh, and once you’re back, I’ll make that introduction. Trust me. You’ll like her.”

THE NARA community police office was showing its age. A cluster of creaky metal desks, piled high with paper, were pressed one against another. Chipped linoleum tiles covered the floor, and the walls hadn’t seen fresh paint in a decade.

In tourist brochures, the city was celebrated as the first capital of a unified Japan. The reality was that thirteen hundred years had passed since then. Regardless of the UNESCO World Heritage stamp, it was a quiet little backwater town in a country filled with dazzling mega-cities.

The plainclothes officer excused himself from the smoke-filled central room. Heading for the toilet, he slipped out a side door and down the lane. Pulling a calling card from his pocket, he eased into a nearby telephone booth.

A growly voice picked up on the second ring. “Yes.”

“I have information that will be very valuable to your boss.” He paused briefly before continuing. “And I was hoping I could get paid more this time.”

The response was brushed with disdain. “Listen, I don’t make those decisions.”