The Traitor's Gold, page 14
But, finally, their patience paid off.
The morning sidled by, taking its time. They ate in their rooms, took mugfuls of coffee and tea and tried to stay upbeat. This could take days, more days than they could afford to spend. Mason slumped in his chair.
Outside, a car pulled up to the kerb.
At first, it didn’t quite register. Mason saw the car, saw the occupant, but he was so bored and acclimatised to the ennui of the day that he didn’t react straightaway.
Then he sat forward.
And then he started fumbling for his phone as he leapt to his feet. He knocked his mug off the table and sent the contents spilling to the floor. Swearing to himself, he put a keyword message in a group chat that all the others had been told to monitor.
‘Action,’ it read.
He imagined the others scrambling to their feet, rushing to the front of the hotel. He was racing for the door, yanking it open and charging out into the corridor. He went straight for the stairs, not trusting the elevators to be any quicker, and pounded down them two at a time. Passing a couple on the way down, he didn’t slow, just dashed past them, much to their visible surprise.
Mason hit the bottom of the stairs and pushed the door that led out to the lobby. It flew open, cracking into its stopper and bouncing back, striking his right bicep. He ran out into the lobby and saw Roxy and Hassell already at the glass doors that led to the street. On seeing him, they turned and waited.
Mason rushed past, gaining the street and then running to the kerb. He waited impatiently for traffic to pass, Roxy and Hassell at his side. The man had already got out of his car and was ambling down the path to the house. Mason wanted to reach him before he knocked. He hurried across the road, weaving between cars and getting some furious looks, but no honks. Maybe they were too civilised here for honks. He reached the opposite kerb and let out a shout.
‘Tanaka!’
It was a loaded shout. If the guy turned, they were in business. If he didn’t, they were back to square one.
But the man turned, surprise on his face. He carried a large briefcase and wore a long black coat, shiny black boots, and a hat with a wide brim. He looked thin, pale, and carried himself erect, his spine as straight as a girder. When he saw Mason and the others rushing at him, he stepped back and flinched.
‘Please,’ he said in English. ‘I don’t want any trouble.’
Mason slowed immediately, wanting to pose as little threat as possible. ‘We’re here to assist you, to warn you and get your help.’
By now, the entire team had assembled and stood around Mason, collected on the narrow path to the house. Worried about standing around in the open, Mason led them all into the more private, more shadowy lee of the house.
‘Who are you?’ the man asked warily.
‘You speak good English,’ Roxy complimented him.
‘I am a traveller. I sell all over the country and further afield. I speak many languages, but mostly the languages of trade and commerce.’
Mason cleared his throat. ‘Listen,’ he said. ‘You’re in danger. A man named Kenji, a gambler from Tokyo, has named you as the man he exchanged some bags of old coins with. Is this true?’
An expression of wariness came into Tanaka’s face. ‘What is this?’
Sally stepped forward. ‘Don’t worry. We’re not here to rob you. The bags of coins you gave Kenji have aroused a good deal of attention. That’s all.’
Tanaka frowned. ‘Yes, I worried that they might cause a bit of a stir and asked him to be as unobtrusive as possible. I see that advice wasn’t taken.’
‘Well, they weren’t exactly collectors’ items,’ Mason said, wondering just how much the man actually knew and deciding to plunge ahead. ‘They came from an old Chinese casino, which you no doubt know. Now, whoever originally found the coins knows exactly where it is. We’re trying to track that person down and find the casino.’
‘But there’s a complication,’ Luciane added.
‘What kind of complication?’ Tanaka asked.
Mason watched the houses to either side and especially the house inside which the SED team was bound. He saw no movement anywhere and ploughed on.
‘The Shadow Kings and the SED want the same thing,’ he said. ‘And they’re being very aggressive about finding it. Very aggressive.’
If possible, Tanaka’s face went even paler. ‘Who are the Shadow Kings?’
‘Guns. Knives. Tasers,’ Roxy said deadpan. ‘Just a few houses down from here. They were on the lookout for you, but we got to them first. We’re trying to save as many people as we can from them.’
‘You killed them?’ Tanaka looked aghast.
‘No, we neutralised them. But, believe me, they would have had no qualms about killing you.’
‘So the threat is over?’
‘Only got half the team,’ Quaid said. ‘And we’re gonna have to let them go, eventually.’
Tanaka shuddered. ‘What can I do?’ He switched the heavy-looking briefcase to his other hand.
Mason stepped closer. ‘Help us,’ he said. ‘And then go into hiding. Just for a few weeks, maybe. It will be all over by then.’
‘Hiding?’ Tanaka was visibly shaking.
‘We got them off your back,’ Hassell said. ‘It’s up to you to help yourself from here.’
‘Don’t be so predictable,’ Roxy told him.
Tanaka stared at her. ‘Are you joking with me? Predictability is how I make my living. My customers know when and where I will turn up. They are ready for me. They know to expect me. It is all about building the foundations and then sticking to the schedule.’
‘It’s simple,’ Roxy said, typically blunt. ‘Stay predictable and die. Or you could take a vacation and live.’
Tanaka hung his head. Standing there, in his long coat and his wide-brimmed hat, he looked quite forlorn, a character out of time who’d just had all the wind taken out of him.
‘I could go somewhere,’ he said.
‘You should,’ Roxy said. ‘But first tell us all about the coins.’
Tanaka glanced up. ‘Yes, the coins. I certainly didn’t find them, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m no explorer, and I know very little about casinos in the desert beyond Las Vegas.’ He managed a grin. ‘Is this the Las Vegas of old?’
Mason shrugged. ‘Could be. We don’t know that much about it.’
‘Maybe you should do some research?’ Tanaka suggested.
‘Hey, I’ve done my research,’ Sally said. ‘I just haven’t shared it yet.’
Tanaka looked from them to the house he was visiting. He bit his lip. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘I have no bags of coins left now. I won them in an underground gambling game. Right here in Japan. I have lots of friends, an assorted bunch. Criminals run the underground gambling scene—’
‘Yakuza,’ Hassell sighed.
‘No not the Yakuza,’ Tanaka said. ‘The Japanese Cranes. They are a rival of the Yakuza. As you probably know, during the last thirty years, other criminal groups have been infiltrating the Japanese criminal underworld that was once fully controlled by the native mafia, the Yakuza. The Cranes originated in the late Eighties, and see themselves as hard-done-by children, cast-offs, loners sick of persecution, a real family united by adversity and opposed to the coalition of criminal syndicates that make up the Yakuza. Of course, the authorities have overlooked the Yakuza presence in many cities in the past, since they helped restrain the extravagances of the lesser gangs, but recently they have been forced underground.’ Tanaka looked unhappy. ‘All I’m saying is, the Cranes are not the Yakuza. I wouldn’t associate with them if they were.’
‘We understand,’ Sally said. ‘You’re not a bad guy, not a criminal. We get it.’
‘It doesn’t matter to us who you associate with,’ Roxy said. ‘It’s the information we need.’
Tanaka nodded. ‘Yes, I see. Like I explained, I won the bags in an underground gambling game. I won them off a man named Saito, a notorious gambler, part of the gang. But Saito…he is a rarely seen creature.’
Mason frowned. ‘What are you saying?’
‘That Saito only surfaces to play in these underground gambling games. That, as I explained, he’s a loner, a reject. Gambling is his love. He’s considered a major player, a crazy character, a standout personality. If you can play with Saito, you’ve made it.’
‘And you’ve played against Saito?’ Quaid asked.
‘I have. Not only that, I beat him. Hence the bags of gold coins.’
‘And how do you get an audience with Saito?’ Mason asked.
Tanaka smiled. ‘You play against him, of course. If you are good enough, he will talk to you. If not…’ he shrugged. ‘Bye, bye.’
‘He won’t just…have a chat?’ Roxy asked. ‘Shoot the shit?’
Tanaka looked confused. ‘A chat? A shit? No. As I explained, he is a cult figure. An icon. Get Saito at a table and the night is yours, most of the takings as well. They afford him a certain protection.’ Tanaka went on to give them a short physical description of the man.
‘But around the gaming table…’ Mason saw it.
‘Exactly. He is yours to talk to.’
‘Can you help us?’ Quaid asked.
‘I can’t go with you. As you said, I have to run. I can’t be involved in this.’ Tanaka already looked antsy. ‘But I can make a few calls. I can probably get you an invitation to the game.’
‘What game, and where?’ Sally asked.
‘Saito plays in Osaka. I can give you a suburb. The games move about.’
Mason exchanged information with the man. ‘We’ll go to Osaka,’ he said. ‘Let me know an address.’
Tanaka nodded. ‘I can do that. There is only one problem.’
Mason frowned at him. ‘Which is?’
‘You don’t look like gamblers. How good are you at gambling?’
‘Oh, I’ve gambled a fair bit in my time,’ Roxy said. ‘Mostly with my life.’
‘Don’t make me look bad,’ Tanaka said. ‘You’re my recommendation. If you fuck up, I’ll never get an invitation again.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Mason said, managing a smile. ‘We’re gambling gods.’
Chapter 22
Osaka, known as the Nation’s Kitchen, is famous for its mouth-watering food, its glittery nightlife and its modern architecture. On the surface, at least, it is a friendly city, full of light and warmth and pleasantries. From its bustling outskirts to its metropolitan heart, Osaka wields a tremendous influence on Japan’s economy and boasts everything from Universal Studios to the Museum of History and the ancient Osaka Castle.
Mason shared the drive with Quaid. It took them six hours to drive from Ueda to Osaka, a journey in which nobody spoke much and Sally, in the passenger seat, brushed up on everything from ancient Chinese casinos to how to play a hand of poker.
‘Are we really all that great at gambling?’ Roxy had asked when they started their journey around midday.
‘No,’ Mason had said. ‘So get Googling.’
‘Oh, that’s gonna help,’ Hassell groaned. ‘I have a grounding in gambling. I used to be in a gang, remember? It’s how we used to pass our nights.’
‘Tanaka said Saito’s game was poker,’ Sally said.
‘Yeah, I heard. I can hold my own.’
Roxy nudged him. ‘But can you play poker?’ she asked with a smirk.
‘Yeah, I can do that too.’
‘How good are you?’ Quaid asked. ‘It sounds like this Saito is an expert.’
‘I’m no expert,’ Hassell admitted. ‘But I have the face for it and I can make a good bluff. Sometimes, that’s all you need.’
‘I used to play with the officers,’ Quaid told them. ‘Back in my army days. The talk on those nights was frank and to the point. No one was content with following many of the orders we were given, but they all capitulated with a shrug and a shake of the head. If only more of us had spoken out.’
‘I didn’t know you’d spoken out,’ Luciane said, turning to him.
‘Oh, I spoke out. I laced right into them. It didn’t do any good. Three months later, I quit before they could make me. And don’t forget, I have spoken out about this quest too. I’m not totally against it, but I’m not all for it.’
Luciane reached out a hand and clasped Quaid’s left wrist. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘What can you do?’ Quaid seemed not to notice. ‘In the army, you’re up against the establishment. The old guard. They’ll just close ranks and squeeze you out. I was never very good with stupid orders.’ He smiled.
Roxy pursed her lips. ‘For twelve years, I was good with it. I was thirty before I saw the light and quit. Lost a lot of life that way.’
‘Which you’re seeking to recover now,’ Mason said, trying to gee her up a bit, sensing her dejected mood.
Roxy sat up. ‘Yeah, and I’m doin’ a damn good job of it,’ she said. ‘Building those barriers. I’m almost there.’
Mason was glad to hear it. Helping Roxy free herself from her demons also helped him climb his own conflicted ladder.
‘I didn’t have any of that.’ Hassell spoke up unexpectedly. Maybe because he’d earlier mentioned the criminal gang he used to work for. ‘I didn’t even know I was working for that bastard.’ He shook his head. ‘The bastard that murdered Chloe and blamed his rivals, making me take revenge on them, along with the murderer. I was caught then, a fish in a net. How do you get over something like that?’
Mason didn’t know. Hassell might have killed Gido in the end, but Gido would always be Hassell’s disgrace. How do you get over something like that…?
…you don’t.
‘I’m a firm believer in moving forward,’ Roxy said. ‘Raising barriers between the present and the past.’
‘You learn to live with it, accept it, even if it was your fault,’ Mason knew he was talking about himself. ‘You atone by helping others. Make up for the men you lost. Protect people. That’s why I initially took the protection job and now run around with you guys, protecting inanimate objects and the weak. Today, see, we’re protecting Kenji and Tanaka. We’re protecting whomever else the SED might attack. That’s me, now. That’s what I do.’
After that, there wasn’t much talk. They stopped halfway for food and drink, finding a service station that sold a few recognisable items. By the time they arrived in Osaka, it was past six p.m.
‘Has Tanaka contacted you?’ Roxy asked, as Mason stalled in traffic along a colourful street.
‘Not yet.’
‘We’re kinda reliant on him.’
‘I know.’
Mason drove down a narrow street lined by six- and seven-storey buildings all fronted by multicoloured signs with Japanese lettering running vertically down their lengths. It was raining, the slick city streets lit up by the gaudy lighting, the black roads reflecting a myriad vivid lights. The shopfronts were bright too, shedding their illumination onto the pavements.
‘Should we find a hotel?’ Quaid asked.
‘Osaka’s a big place,’ said Mason, sounding worried. ‘We need Tanaka to narrow it down first.’
They drove on, going effectively nowhere. Through the steady sweep of the windscreen wipers Mason saw pavements packed with wet, hastening citizens. He slowed to let a bunch of them cross the road and saw an assortment of life: people with their jackets pulled up over their heads, people struggling with soggy bags, people politely letting others take the path in front of them. It was a hodge-podge of humanity, a snapshot of life in Osaka, a procession of strangers he would never set eyes on again.
His phone buzzed. Stuck in traffic, he looked down to where he had it trapped between his legs. A message flashed up.
‘Go to Nishinari-ku. Red-light district. Be careful. Go to Kuma Chao “Japanese-style restaurant” at 9. They will expect six foreigners under my approval. Don’t fuck it up for me.’
Mason read it aloud three times. ‘I wonder why he stressed a Japanese-style restaurant?’
‘I know why,’ Sally said. ‘I’ve been researching underground gambling in Osaka and other big cities. It’s a front. These places operate as restaurants, traditional places, to avoid getting sanctioned by the anti-prostitution and gambling laws. I guess that’s why it’s classed as “underground”.’
‘And dangerous as hell,’ Roxy said. ‘Check your weapons.’
It was a favourite and necessary pastime of hers, and Mason’s and, of course, of anyone who knew the military. It was engrained in her. They still had the guns they’d confiscated from the SED team and all took them out now.
‘Let’s hope we don’t get pulled over,’ Mason muttered. ‘We’ll be spending the next week in jail.’
Steadily, he made his way over to Nishinari-ku. The rain let up after a short while, leaving the streets gleaming and smooth, the lights all around them glossy and sparkling. More people came out after the rain stopped, practically throttling the pavements. Mason lost count of the number of pedestrian crossings that stopped them.
‘How do we look?’ Sally said suddenly.
‘Mason’s looking pretty rough,’ Roxy said.
‘We fought in these clothes,’ Quaid said.
‘Yeah, if we’re going into a gambling den, we need new rags,’ Sally said.
Mason didn’t slow, didn’t veer off track. Sally looked up the nearest department store on her phone and soon they had stopped close by and were walking in through the revolving doors, now part of the flow of humanity. They quickly made purchases, stowed their old clothes in their rucksacks and were back in the car twenty-five minutes later. Mason wore black trousers, a white shirt and a roomy jacket, as did Hassell. Quaid had gone for a dark grey suit. The women all wore trousers and blouses with jackets that fit their different personalities. Roxy’s was a small leather jacket, tight-fitting. Sally had bought a loose denim jacket of a standard sort, and Luciane a light-blue, padded non-brand. What was important was that they looked smart and well-kept – better than they had half an hour ago.
