The Traitor's Gold, page 15
Mason made the rest of the drive to the Kuma Chao restaurant in about thirty minutes. They were a tad early, so sat in the car waiting, getting the lie of the land. Osaka’s red-light district was a huddle of murky back streets, illuminated only by a series of globes strung above the street that gave off a yellowish glow. There were graffiti everywhere. The buildings were stark block work and much darker than what they’d seen so far. From their vantage point, they could see several brothels, identified by the half-clad women standing in the windows.
Sally gave them all a crash course in playing poker. It wasn’t going to win them a lot of money, but it would get them by. Their cover was bored tourists, looking to live a little on the wild side, feel a little real danger. At this point, they did not know who Saito was or what he looked like beyond a vague description. That was going to take work.
The Kuma Chao restaurant sat up the street a short way. Like everything else along this street, it was understated, badly lit and the single sign above the windows was almost too small to read.
‘Shall we take the guns?’ Quaid asked, as nine o’clock ticked closer.
‘Good question,’ Mason said. ‘Probably not, since we’re heading into a den of thieves.’
‘All the more reason to take them,’ Roxy said. ‘They can always take them off us if they have rules.’
Mason was sure they would have rules, and he was also sure anyone wanting to enter the gambling establishment would know them. Still, they were foreigners. They always had that excuse.
‘Obviously,’ Sally said, ‘the guns will be taken away from us at the door. We might not even get them back.’
It was a good point, and since it was time to go, Mason made a snap decision. ‘Leave them,’ he said. ‘We have no reason to expect a firefight.’
Roxy huffed a little as she climbed out of the car. The night was cool but clear. Stars littered the vault of the sky that stretched above the dingy street. Their new shoes echoed off the concrete as they walked the short way to the restaurant. There were other people around, mostly men, a few couples. Nobody spoke much. It was as if the foreboding atmosphere that hung over the place had stilled everyone’s tongue. Mason led the way to the front of the restaurant.
He placed a hand on the door. ‘Are we ready?’
‘Since we don’t know what to expect – no,’ Roxy said.
‘Always ready,’ Quaid said, to an eye-roll from Luciane.
Mason pushed his way into the restaurant. There was faint music playing, something Japanese and traditional, and the low hum of conversation. About half of the tables were occupied, giving the ‘front’ business some authenticity. Several of the diners looked up as Mason and his team entered.
Mason made his way to the counter that stretched across the back of the place, leaned over and attracted the attention of a tall man with a lot of hair and a wizened face who was bending over with a mop in his hand.
‘Hey,’ he breathed. ‘We’ve come to play.’
The old guy looked up. ‘Play?’ he said in passable English.
‘Play games,’ Sally leaned over too. ‘Six foreigners,’ she pointed them all out. ‘Tanaka sent us.’
The old man studied them, counted them with the end of his mop and then smiled. ‘Come with me,’ he said.
Chapter 23
Without ceremony, they were all quickly searched.
They had been ushered down a short, cluttered corridor to a small room where two men wearing suits stood with their backs straight. These men didn’t speak English, but mimed them holding their arms out and getting searched. The search was quick and perfunctory. When it was done, the men opened the door behind them and waved the team through.
Mason traversed another corridor, this one painted black with golden dragon wings down its entire length. There were boxes and shelves to negotiate, and piles of crockery. Mason wondered if they were still in the ‘front’, if this was all show to deter any would-be investigators. At the end of the corridor, they came to a set of double doors, also painted black.
Alone, they weren’t sure what to do, but Mason just shrugged, grabbed the handles and opened the doors.
Immediately, a wall of sound hit him.
He stood for a moment, shocked. A vast room opened out, well lit by spotlights in the ceiling. Tall plumes of smoke wreathed their way through the air and among the rafters. There were people everywhere, mostly Japanese but some Europeans too, strolling back and forth, sitting at a vast array of gaming tables or playing the coin-operated slot machines that lined the walls. Among the patrons walked waiters and waitresses wearing tight-fitting emerald green trousers and tops, carrying silver platters full of umbrella-heavy cocktails or frosted glasses of beer. Dealers and pit bosses stood upright at dozens of different tables, their black suits making them stand out in the crowds. There were people standing apart, smooching; couples standing at the tables, cursing their luck; and others, watching like unsociable voyeurs. And still more…a man waving a wad of notes above his head, a man striking a gaming machine with his bare knuckles and being visited by a guard, a woman wearing a slit skirt and enough jewellery to bury her under sidling up to a dealer with a wry smile on her face, a man lifting his girlfriend onto his shoulders to get a better look at a game of blackjack. It was organised bedlam, orderly chaos, an array of humanity that should be uncontrollable, and yet everything seemed to be going smoothly.
Mason stepped into it all. Already he knew they would be hard pressed to find a particular man in here, but then Tanaka was supposed to have arranged something. They should face off with Saito. That should help narrow it down a tad.
They entered the fray, walked among the tables. When Mason looked up, he saw a balcony running around the top of the gaming area and several men leaning over it, watching what was going on. A set of stairs ran up to the balcony. It was roped off, but he walked over to it anyway.
‘We have a game at nine,’ he told the guard stationed there. ‘With Saito.’
The man remained stony-faced. He beckoned to another, a stocky guy standing a short way off. He gestured for Mason to repeat his words.
Mason did so.
‘English is not so good,’ the new man said. ‘You say Saito?’ he was shouting above the general commotion.
‘Yeah!’ Mason yelled back. ‘Saito! Arranged by Tanaka.’
The man nodded and wandered off. Mason and the others stayed where they were, watching the underground casino work. Mason guessed the only difference between this place and, say, a legal Las Vegas casino was the size. Here, they had to fit everything in one room.
Time passed. People on the floor yelled their woes, backing away from tables so hurriedly that they struck other people. The guards came in and calmed them down. Another man started yelling when he won at roulette, jumping up and down until someone shouted at him to shut the hell up. Mason heard all kinds of languages, from the obvious Japanese to English and French and Russian. It was a clutter of humanity, a jumble of like-minded civilians enjoying a night on the wild side. Mason saw several of the guards carried guns and Tasers at their belts.
Finally, their guard returned. He bent over so that he could yell in Mason’s ear.
‘You…follow.’
Mason nodded at the others. He followed the guard, winding through the outskirts of the throng until he came to a wide niche in the back of the room. A red rope had been drawn across, separating the niche from the rest of the room.
Beyond the rope was a poker table and, around it, eight seats. Seven were occupied. Mason looked at the free seat. The guard gestured to it.
‘Oh,’ he said. ‘I thought it was all six of us.’
The guard frowned and gestured again. ‘One seat,’ he said. ‘You go.’
Mason wasn’t close to being the poker player of the team. That honour would go to Sally and her research. He turned quickly towards her.
‘It’s going to have to be you,’ he said. ‘At least you can hold your own in there.’
Sally looked nervous. ‘Me?’
‘Can we watch?’ Roxy asked.
The guard looked confused and was growing impatient. He unhooked the red rope and gestured that one of them should go through. Roxy didn’t back down but put her hands to her eyes like she was looking through binoculars and inclined her head towards the guard.
He nodded. ‘Watch,’ he said.
They all went through, standing a respectful distance from the table so that they couldn’t see any of the cards that would soon be in play. Sally kept walking, but Mason pulled her back.
‘Don’t forget,’ he said. ‘This is all about Saito.’
She nodded, carried on to her seat and sidled into it. Mason watched. Now there were eight gathered around the table, six men and two women. Apart from Sally, everyone was Asian, and they were quite an assortment of ages and sizes. One enormous man took up two spaces and had arms like tree trunks. One tall thin man wearing black hunched over like a praying mantis. Others were younger, some in their twenties, whilst the other woman was middle-aged and sported a studded choker necklace and studded bracelets. Her hair was black, and she had a large spider web tattoo on her right cheek. One hand was resting gently across her stacks of chips, and Mason saw it had a tiny tattoo on every knuckle.
‘Which one is Saito?’ Roxy asked, yelling in his ear.
Mason shrugged. ‘Fucked if I know.’
* * *
Sally placed her hand on the dozens of ceramic poker chips that the dealer had set before her. They were of intricate design, featuring full-colour graphics and custom denomination. Sally separated them into piles, mentally translating the yen to pounds in her head. A thick layer of tension hung over the table, curdling just a few metres above their heads. Sally kept her face impassive and studied every one of her opponents.
Saito couldn’t be the woman or the massive guy. That left five smartly dressed, thin opponents who might or might not be the man in question. Should she mention his name, maybe drop Tanaka’s name at the same time? It seemed the right way to go.
But before she could put her plan into action, the dealer called for their attention. He ratified they were playing Texas Hold ’Em, dealt each player two cards and then called out the small and big blind, speaking both in Japanese and English. Sally studied her hand, a three of clubs and a jack of spades. It wasn’t great, but she didn’t change her facial expression, just sat stoically after folding her cards and studying the other faces. Eyes flicked left and right. Jaws and cheeks twitched. The tattooed woman made a deep sigh that might signify a good hand or a bluff. Next came the first round of betting. Sally wasn’t confident in her hand but didn’t show it, betting well. Then the dealer placed three community cards face up.
Sally stared at them, her face expressionless.
The second round of betting began. There was complete silence at the table. Of course, the room at their backs was a veritable melee of raucous vice. The noise came in waves. Sally did her best to block it out, but found that she couldn’t. It was just too loud and unpredictable, every moment someone new shouting or laughing or expressing their anger. She made a show of turning around and studying the crowd – more than once, in an effort to draw her opponents’ attention towards it, too. Maybe she could even the odds that way.
The dealer turned the fourth community card face up.
Another round of betting began. Sally stayed in, always calling, never raising. The tattooed woman had folded; the big guy with the trunk-like arms was sweating profusely, but still in the game. Out of the five others, two had folded and three were sitting as if they were playing for beans, not cash.
Sally knew she was beaten when the dealer dealt the fifth community card, known as the river. She couldn’t advance with the cards in her hand. This was the final round of betting and, since three players hadn’t yet folded, all players had to show their hands. Tree trunk won.
Who’d have thought it?
Sally stayed in for the second hand. Turned to a passing waitress.
‘Singapore Sling,’ she said.
The woman nodded. Two other players ordered drinks. Sally saw Mason and the others standing near the rope at her back, encouraging expressions on their faces.
Saito, Mason mouthed.
Sally turned back to the table, picked up her new cards. A jack and a ten, same suit. Nice. She waited for the community cards and didn’t change her strategy of calling, not raising. She was more into the game now, enjoying it. She sat back, crossed her legs, felt relaxed. She slid her chips into the main pile, watched the community cards grow. This time she was in the final round, but still lost. One of the younger guys with black hair and green eyes scooped the prize and slid all the chips to his side of the table. He grinned. He told them all how great he was. They ignored him and waited for the dealer to start the next hand.
Sally uncrossed her legs and leaned forward. She hadn’t wanted to show her hand until now, but it felt like she was getting nowhere. Time to gamble with more than just cards. ‘Saito,’ she said.
They might be playing poker, but the man who started and then blinked at her gave himself away immediately. Saito was the younger man opposite her, maybe early thirties, with short-cropped hair, blue eyes, thin, and wearing a snazzy black Armani suit that clung to him. He frowned at her and licked his lips nervously.
‘Yes?’ he said shortly.
‘Hi, I’m Sally. You speak English?’
‘Some.’
‘Tanaka sends his salutations.’ Sally made sure the others could see who she was talking to by turning around and nodding.
‘Tanaka?’
‘Travelling salesman. Your friend.’
‘Can we get on with it?’ the immense man growled, also in English.
‘Ah, Tanaka,’ Saito said, ignoring the man. ‘Yes, a friend. How do you know him?’
Sally shrugged. ‘He sold us some wares.’
Saito shook his head as if not understanding. Right then, the dealer started the third hand and Sally went quiet, not wanting to spook Saito with too much conversation. It was enough that she’d identified the man. You couldn’t go beyond that and hold a full-on conversation in the middle of a poker game.
She played out a third hand, won the fourth. By then, some players were getting restless and departed the table. Saito stayed where he was, and so did Sally. She took a break from one hand and wandered back to her friends with her Singapore Sling in one hand.
‘You see him?’ she asked Mason.
‘Got him in my sights and on camera,’ came the reply, shouted, but still lost underneath the overall uproar.
‘We can’t approach him at the table.’
‘Agreed, but he can’t stay there for ever.’
The night turned. Nine o’clock soon became ten and then eleven. The gambling den only grew busier, louder, filled with more tumult. Sally played Texas Hold ’Em hands with Saito and the big guy and the tattooed woman for most of the night.
As Sally’s watch showed midnight, Saito rose to his feet.
Her brain was electrified, her chest thumped. Finally, they would have their chance.
Saito nodded to her as he left the table. Sally cashed her own chips in, leaving the others to follow Saito.
When she was ready, she turned and dashed away from the table, stuffing her cash into her bag and trying to stay on the fringes of the madness that filled the room.
Ahead, Saito was heading for the exit.
Chapter 24
Mason was ten steps behind Saito as the man exited the underground casino and headed for the front door. The guy paused to collect his coat from a cloakroom Mason hadn’t even noticed on the way in. He slowed, checked behind him, saw the others close by and Sally just a few steps behind. The casino itself was still humming; it probably went on like this all night, maybe emptying in the later morning hours.
Soon, Saito was on the move again.
They didn’t want to stop him inside the casino. There was entirely too much security, and if Saito caused a scene, enough guards to shield him. Saito grabbed his coat, shrugged it on, and they continued through the restaurant, into the street.
When Mason stepped out, he found that more and more people were out on the streets. The red-light area overflowed with foot traffic and voices both loud and quiet. He saw a little more light now; square and rectangular signs were lit up with Japanese writing and the faces of women, while other establishments promised pizza and pasta in English. The flow of humanity rushed by in all directions.
Sato inserted himself into it. He wasn’t exactly tall, and soon vanished into the flood. Mason hurried. It was through Saito’s red padded jacket over his Armani suit that Mason and the others could keep him in sight.
Roxy cut through the crowd hard, ranging ahead. She would stay in front of Saito. Quaid and Hassell drifted to the sides. Mason stayed behind with Luciane and Sally. They followed the guy up the street.
‘Should we drag him into an alley?’ Sally yelled in his ear.
‘Love the idea, but it has to be a last resort,’ Mason replied. ‘Too many people about.’
A fried-food smell filled the air, reminding Mason that he hadn’t eaten anything except a quick sandwich today. Small takeaways stood on either side of the street, doing a brisk business. Mason saw people with cardboard boxes and chopsticks eating in the street. He slowed as Saito angled towards one and entered a queue, finally coming away with a box and some utensils clasped in one hand.
Mason’s stomach grumbled. ‘That’s just taking the piss,’ he said.
