The Clone Redemption (30 page)

If he took offense, Oliver did not show it. He smiled briefly, and said, “Yes, we shadow demons prefer to remain in our lair.”

“You know that term as well,” Hara said, sounding both impressed and disappointed. “I was looking forward to translating it for you.”

“Sorry to disappoint you.”

Hara noticed that there was something different in the SEAL's demeanor, and it made him nervous. Under most circumstances, the SEALs had an almost embarrassed air about them, as if they were ashamed to be seen. But Oliver was sitting in the open, his banter as comfortable as if he were family.

“What did you want to discuss, Master Chief?” Hara asked as he fumbled to slip the thumb of his left hand into the sleeve of his shirt. Hidden in the cuff, he had a panic button. By pressing it, he sent a distress signal to the other
Yakuza
.

“I came to let you in on a secret,” said Oliver. “Would you like to know what we talked about after you left the meeting?”

“As a matter of fact, I am curious about that,” Hara said.

Oliver spoke in a soft voice, a voice so calm and even that Hara had to lean over the table to hear him. The SEAL's gaze fixed on Hara's eyes.

In the past, the SEALs did not meet other officers' gazes.
There's something different about him,
Hara thought again.
Something threatening.
He rolled his thumb over the panic button again.

“But, Master Chief, isn't that restricted information?” asked Hara.

Oliver did not respond to the question.

Hara watched as the door of the bar opened. With his back to that door, Oliver did not see the two brantooed sailors enter the bar. His eyes hidden behind dark glasses, Hara watched the men as they quietly slipped into a nearby booth.

“We're heading back to New Copenhagen. Yamashiro wants to start a colony.”

“On New Copenhagen? That cinder of a planet might sustain life, but it would not be a life worth living,” said Hara.

“No one is calling it the Garden of Eden,” said Oliver.

“What about the ship they saw, the one that chased us away? What will he do if that ship returns?”

“We hit it with our best weapon,” Oliver said. “We have plenty of stealth infiltration pods.”

“You do realize that that was a Unified Authority ship. Does Yamashiro really want to fire on a U.A. ship?”

“We could always broadcast to Earth and ask the Unified Authority if the ship belongs to them,” said Oliver.

A man and a woman entered the bar. Hara did not care about the couple, but he was glad to see that there were three men with brantooed necks and dark glasses waiting outside the door, along with the two who had entered the bar. For the first time since the conversation began, the lieutenant allowed his thumb to drop from the panic button.

“I don't understand why we are returning to the Orion Arm at all,” said Hara. “We have not completed our mission. Is the old man admitting defeat?”

“We still have a way of getting around the ion curtain,” said Oliver. “You're a betting man. I'll wager you've run a simulation of it.”

“Broadcasting the
Sakura
into their atmosphere? I've run the simulation. The ship won't survive long. It's suicide.”

“Good thing we're leaving all nonessential personnel on New Copenhagen.”

“Where they will starve to death if they don't suffocate first.”

“Where they will have a chance of surviving.”

“Why are you telling me this?” asked Hara. He gazed over the clone's shoulder at the
Yakuza
who had entered the bar. Hara had as unreadable a poker face as any man on the ship, but his eyes would have given him away had it not been for the shades.

“I am here to let you know that you will not be joining the colony,” said Oliver.

He sounded so relaxed.
He thinks he's in control,
Hara thought.
If only he could see the men sitting behind him.

“Did Yamashiro send you?” asked Hara.

“No, I came on my own.”

“And I see that you came alone,” said Hara.

“I hoped we could keep this between us.”

“A gentleman's agreement?” asked Hara.

“Something like that.”

“You want me to go down with the ship?” Hara asked.

“Consider it
seppuku
if you like.”

“You are not a pilot or a weapons technician, doesn't that make you ‘nonessential personnel'? Do you plan on committing
seppuku
as well?” Hara could feel his heart racing. He could feel the sweat running down the outside of his chest and along his back. He was in control of the situation, and the SEAL still rattled him.

Calm as ever, Oliver said, “I'm staying on the ship.”

“You can commit suicide if you want. Why should I?”

“Because there will not be room for serpents in the Garden of Eden,” said Oliver. “The colony won't have room for gambling or prostitution or vice lords. There won't be time for gangsters or secret organizations.”

Hara nodded to the men behind Oliver. Watching his men rise to their feet and walk to the table, Hara felt a wave of relief wash over him. He laughed, an explosive mirth-filled bray. “You think I'm a gangster?”

“I think you are one of the losers,” said Oliver.

“ ‘ The losers'?” asked Hara. Seeing his men standing behind Oliver, he felt giddy. Taking this man, this inscrutable SEAL, had been so easy.

“
Ya Ku Za.
Eight-nine-three, I believe it refers to a losing hand in cards,” said Oliver.

“Very good,” said Hara. “You have a good grasp of Japanese.”

One of the men laid a hand on Oliver's shoulder and pressed the tip of his butterfly knife into the SEAL's back. Corey Oliver did not flinch. He did not move. His eyes remained fixed on Hara's.

“You have decided that I should die with the ship, and I have decided that you do not have the right to make that decision,” said Hara, adding, “If you go out quietly, we won't need to eliminate witnesses.”

No more words passed between Hara and Oliver. While his men escorted the clone out of the bar, Hara returned to his table at the back. He felt no regret about what would happen to the SEAL. When you worked both sides of the law, the occasional murder was a survival mechanism. He did not have time to think about Oliver; he needed to make plans for New Copenhagen.

The SEAL had been correct, the name,
Yakuza
, did refer to a losing hand in cards. In Hara's mind, it was the losing hand that made the
Yakuza
the winners. In his mind, the
Yakuza
were not the ones who held the cards, they were the ones who dealt them.

Hara's feeling of triumph turned cold when he saw the next two men who entered the bar ... a pair of SEALs.

 

With four of his men surrounding the SEAL and his knife pressed into the clone's back, Ricky Oshiro should have felt confident. They moved silently down an empty service hall in a pack surrounding the SEAL. Two men led the way. If MPs or witnesses entered the hall, the men in the lead would scare them away. Oshiro and another man flanked the SEAL. The man bringing up the rear lagged ten feet behind the pack. He carried an S9 pistol in his hand. If the SEAL made a move, he would shoot to kill.

They turned into a service hall that led behind the mess area. Their footsteps echoed off the walls as they marched past the galley area.

The man in the rear was the first to go.

The two men leading the pack turned a corner. Oshiro and the SEAL followed. And that was it. The last man never appeared. When Oshiro looked back to see what had happened, the SEAL broke his arm at the elbow and wrist. The reversal happened so quickly that Oshiro did not notice anything until he felt the pain and his knife had clattered to the floor. As the SEAL went for his next target, he shattered Oshiro's leg with a kick to the side of the knee.

The
Yakuza
were tough men, dangerous by nature and experienced fighters; but the SEAL was a demon by design. As Oshiro cradled his broken wrist, the SEAL slid his talonlike fingers across the neck of the man on his right, puncturing skin and tissue, then tearing out tubes. The man gasped and collapsed, uttering only a whisper. The sheet of blood that sprayed from the wound stained his shirt, the wall, and the floor around him. He died holding a hand to the wound as blood bubbled out between his fingers.

The men in the front did not respond quickly enough to save themselves. The SEAL swept an ankle from under the man on the right, breaking the joint and leaving him hobbled. With a cry of pain, he fell to the floor.

Only one uninjured opponent remained. The man did not run. He had a gun, but he knew he could not draw it fast enough to save himself. He kicked at the SEAL, but the clone ducked, spun, and moved away. The man chased, his arms guarding his face, his fists clenched tight.

As the SEAL came in range, Oshiro tried to kick him, but the SEAL dodged the kick, dropped to one leg, and struck the inside of Oshiro's injured knee with a back-fist. With his right elbow and left knee broken, Oshiro fought back the pain as he rolled toward the knife he had dropped. The SEAL leaped over his shoulder and drove the heel of his foot into the wounded
Yakuza
's neck, killing him.

The uninjured
Yakuza
lunged at the SEAL, an aggressive mistake that ended the fight. Using his fingers like a knife, the SEAL drove his fingers into the man's gut. Blood jetted out of the wound, but the SEAL had not finished. He slashed the man across his left biceps, then along his throat. The cut across the arm was disabling. The holes in his stomach and neck drained the man's life in a matter of seconds.

The last of the
Yakuza
lay helpless on the floor. He did not have a gun, and the knife was too far away for him to reach it. He tried to drag himself to safety, but Oliver slid silently behind him, grabbed his head, and snapped his neck.

Only when the fighting had ended did the three SEALs behind the corner emerge with the body of the fifth
Yakuza
, the gunman. “Not exactly a textbook assault,” Senior Chief Warren said in the condescending tone of a teacher correcting an errant pupil.

“I just eliminated four men,” said Oliver.

“Yes, and it wouldn't have been much louder if you had attacked them with a set of kettledrums and a bugle,” said Warren.

The other SEALs set to work without a word. They loaded the bodies onto a cart, which they rolled to the same wastedisposal unit that the
Yakuza
would have used to incinerate Oliver. While Oliver and Warren mopped the floor and cleaned the walls, the bodies of the gangsters burned to ash.

In less than three minutes, the SEALs cleaned the service hall and disposed of the bodies. They prided themselves on efficiency.

“Fifteen of my men are missing,” said Admiral Yamashiro. “What do you know about the disappearances, Master Chief?”

The master chief stood at attention, his eyes straight ahead, his chest out, his arms at his side. “Nothing, sir,” said Oliver. It was a lie, and he knew that Yamashiro could see through it; but lying was within the parameters of his mission. Before leaving Earth, the SEALs had received special orders.

“You know nothing about it?” asked Yamashiro. He stood and stared angrily into Oliver's eyes, looking for any sign of nervousness, then he walked around the SEAL. “I think you and your men have been poaching.”

“Poaching, sir?” asked Oliver.

“Hunting without permission,” growled Yamashiro.

Oliver did not respond.

Captain Takahashi, who sat in a corner of the office watching the interrogation, silently shifted in his chair.

“I will not tolerate vigilantism on my ship,” Yamashiro grunted. He did not raise his voice.

“ ‘ Vigilantism,' sir?” asked Oliver. “Was somebody breaking the law?”

“The missing men are all
Yakuza
.”

“Permission to speak, sir?”

“Speak,” said Yamashiro.

“What are
Yakuza
?” asked Oliver.

Yamashiro looked to Takahashi for help. The captain said, “Gangsters.”

“Lieutenant Tatsu Hara is missing,” said Yamashiro.

“Hara?” asked Oliver.

“The intelligence officer who spoke at the briefing yesterday.”

“The man with all the brantoos?” asked Oliver.

“Yes.”

“And the curled hair?”

Yamashiro glowered.

“And the dark glasses?”

This time, Yamashiro did not respond at all.

“Was he a gangster?” asked Oliver.

“You were seen in the
Shin Roppongi
bar last night,” said Yamashiro.

“Me, sir?”

“You were seen.”

“What makes you think it was me?” asked Oliver. “With all due respect, sir, there are three thousand Navy SEALs on this ship, and we all look alike.”

Yamashiro growled, and Takahashi giggled. Yamashiro whirled around to face his son-in-law, and snarled, “Do you think this is funny?”

Takahashi fought back a laugh, and said, “Yes, sir. I do.”

“I see no humor . . .”

“Admiral, when we left Earth, you were given orders that you have not shared with the rest of the crew. What makes you so sure Master Chief Oliver is not following special orders as well?”

“Is that the case, Master Chief?” growled Yamashiro.

Oliver, his gaze still straight ahead, said, “This sailor has received no special orders, sir.” He hated lying; but he preferred it to disobeying orders.