Year of the Demon (22 page)

That wouldn’t wash for Urano’s crew. Just having the speed on the premises was more than enough to convict them. But Akahata was innocent until proven guilty. Unless Mariko and Han could prove he’d been involved in the deal—and holding a big wad of dope money was the usual proof in these cases—Akahata’s only criminal activity that night had been as the victim of aggravated battery. She and Han always had the option of getting Urano to dime out Akahata, but Urano’s credibility as a witness wouldn’t hold up under scrutiny. Mariko could take her turn on the stand, but she’d have a hard time convincing a jury why Akahata would use fifty or sixty kilos of speed to buy an old rusty mask, and an even harder time explaining how she’d discovered that information while hanging out in Kamaguchi Hanzo’s kitchen. Unless Akahata admitted to felony possession, Hamaya would see him walk.

But Hamaya ignored that line of defense completely. “No one gives contraband away for free, Officer.”

“Oh?” said Han. If Mariko read him right, he, like her, was still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Hamaya gave them a thin smile. “Please. This little back-and-forth game of yours might work on some poor, hapless purse snatcher you drag into your interrogation room, but we’re all professionals here. There’s no need to insult my intelligence.”

Han was at a loss, literally dumbstruck. His mouth worked, but he couldn’t make it say anything.

Mariko jumped in: “Just what are you suggesting, Hamaya-san? Are you admitting your client’s guilty of felony possession? Trafficking? Conspiracy? What?”

“I don’t wish to be presumptuous, Officers, but allow me to hazard a guess as to your intentions. You expected me to claim my client is innocent. Had no part in the drug transaction, or something like this, at any rate. Since you’re utterly lacking in evidence, you’ve considered trying to get one of your other suspects to testify against him. Being good at your jobs, in all likelihood you’d succeed, and then my client would be sentenced to a very long prison term. Was that your plan, more or less?”

Mariko had never been belittled so politely in all her life. “Uh,” she said.

“I guess you think you’re pretty smart,” said Han, whose tone suggested he didn’t take kindly to having his mind read. “Well, two can play this game. You’re not really Akahata’s lawyer, are you? You’re here for his boss, this Joko Daishi, whatever the hell that means—”

“Great Teacher of the Purging Fire,” said Hamaya.

“—who, by the way, we’ve already got by the balls. We know he’s been buying the hexamine, we know he’s been cooking, and we know there’s a new amphetamine on the street called Daishi that’s selling like pointy ears at a Star Trek convention. We also know it’s the Kamaguchi-gumi that’s slinging the Daishi, and it’s only a matter of time before we confirm that your client is their delivery boy. Now we’ve got your boy and you’ve got a jabber-mouth tweaker spouting gibberish all day long. The boss-man starts worrying that his disciple might spout something incriminating, so he sends you down here for damage control. How am I doing so far? Is that the plan, more or less?”

Hamaya’s laugh chilled Mariko to the bone. An “okay, you got me” laugh would have suited her just fine. She’d even have taken a derisive “you cops are so goddamn stupid” laugh or a haughty “I’m far too big for you to touch me” laugh—
something
to make it clear that Han had him dead to rights. A humorless grin. A little swallow. The tiniest flicker of guilt. Anything. But Hamaya’s laugh conveyed an entirely different subtext:
Not only are you not in the ballpark, but you’re not even in the right sport. We have even less to fear from you than we thought. You haven’t got the slightest clue of what you’re dealing with here.

Han had missed something. Something big. And Mariko couldn’t spot it either.

She did what she always did in such circumstances: she started collecting details. She couldn’t help it; it was just a habit of mind. And the first datum she caught was a cold light in Han’s eyes. He wasn’t responding with a detached curiosity like Mariko’s. He was furious.

Immediately her detective’s mind started seeking connections. She’d seen Han angry before. Losing what should have been a win in court on a trivial technicality. This wasn’t like that. Losing what should have been a win because the perp’s lawyer was just too damn good at his job. This wasn’t like that kind of anger either. Losing big at Lieutenant Sakakibara’s Thursday night poker table, getting conned on a hand that should have been a sure thing. That’s what this was. Han didn’t like it when people got into his head. Or rather, he didn’t like it when they got in uninvited. Mariko could read his mind all she liked. They were partners. But when Hamaya did it, he’d violated the most sacred kind of privacy. He’d intruded the sanctum sanctorum. And Han was ready to throw down with him for that.

“Han,” Mariko said, interposing herself between her partner and Hamaya, “why don’t you step outside for a second?”

“This prick knows his client’s guilty.”

“I know.”

Han’s face was getting red. Staring Hamaya right in the eye, he said, “He’s going to tell his client to run. He’s going to aid and abet a known criminal. I’m not going to stand here and let him do it.”

“You don’t have a choice,” said Hamaya, thoroughly enjoying himself. “I’m afraid Akahata-san hasn’t been charged with anything at this point, and until you convince one of your other suspects to attest otherwise, you only have an innocent assault victim and his attorney.”

“You’ll want to do yourself a favor and shut the hell up,” Mariko said, shooting him a quick glare over her shoulder. “Han, you need to take a walk. Outside. Right now.”

“Fuck this guy—”

“Please. For me? I’ll handle him.”

Han paused for a moment, tense, as if coiling to spring. Mariko started thinking about which restraining holds worked best from her current position. Then Han turned and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

“I daresay that got the nurses’ attention,” said Hamaya.

“You’re an asshole,” said Mariko.

“And you, Sergeant, are in over your head. There’s nothing you can do to prevent my client from walking out of here—”

“Wheeling out of here.”

Hamaya conceded the point with a little tilt of the head. “As you like. He and I will be departing shortly. That leaves you in a position to consider your next move very carefully.”

Now it was Mariko’s turn to concede the point. She, Han, and Hamaya had all foreseen it: it was illegal to tail Hamaya or Akahata without a warrant. They weren’t suspects in a larger conspiracy—yet. That conspiracy, whatever it was, was just starting to take shape in Mariko’s mind. Joko Daishi was connected to the Daishi that dealers were slinging on the street. That much was clear. This lawyer and his lunatic cultist client were connected too. And Akahata wasn’t a weak link among the conspirators. That much Han had wrong. Akahata was an asset, not a liability, and he was important enough that Hamaya had to sweep him out from law enforcement’s grasp even before it was medically safe to do so.

The best course for Han and Mariko was to follow these two to Joko Daishi, and Han had foreseen that. That was part of why he was so pissed off: Hamaya had seen his move coming and outmaneuvered him. Given even a few more hours, Mariko and Han might have secured their warrant. With that in hand, tailing Akahata and his Teflon-coated lawyer would have been the easiest thing in the world. And now, because they couldn’t do this very simple thing, a dangerous man was going to go free, and he was going to do something very bad very soon.

He wasn’t her sword burglar. He’d been in the ICU when the theft took place. But there was no doubt in Mariko’s mind that Akahata was dangerous. For as long as she’d been in the room he’d been staring her down, chanting his mantra. This was a man with a mission, and he would not rest until he saw it done. His fanaticism was at least as powerful as the drugs running through his system. He did not sleep. His every waking breath was devoted to his cause. And whatever his mission was, it was much larger than swelling the ranks of his cult by getting a bunch of people high. That wasn’t the kind of “liberating souls” that was on Joko Daishi’s agenda. Mariko had no proof of that, but gut instinct allowed no other conclusion.

People in an altered state were malleable. Akahata and Joko Daishi were going to manipulate a lot of them, and Mariko wanted to know what for.

In a few minutes she would have a choice to make. She could abandon her duty, blow off the standards of probable cause, and shadow Hamaya and Akahata until they led her to this mysterious Joko Daishi. Or she could do what she knew was right and let her two best leads walk out into the endless streets of Tokyo, never to be seen again—or worse, not to be seen again until it was too late.

She walked out on Hamaya to look for Han, but there was no sign of him. Mariko would have to make her decision alone. A big part of her wished it was a hard choice, but in her heart she already knew exactly what she was going to do.

BOOK FOUR

MUROMACHI ERA, THE YEAR 198

(1484
CE
)

20

K
aida left the surface and returned to the world where she felt most at home.

The water was chilly today, but Kaida didn’t mind. She was happy to feel the two cold streams of it worming their way deep into her ears. Underwater, no taunts could reach her. Underwater, everyone was a mute.

Her sandbag pulled at her ankles, dragging her swiftly down to the coral bed. To her right she saw the other three
ama
fluttering down too: Miyoko, as slender and streamlined as a shark; Kiyoko, rounder, more like a puffer fish; Shioko, short and powerful, fanning her arms overhead to accelerate her descent. Shioko was always catching up, always trying to overtake the other two; Miyoko was always the leader; Kiyoko only followed along, always just another dolphin in the pod. At this distance they were no more than naked white blurs against the blue, but for Kaida it was so easy to tell which one was which.

Kaida was happy to see they’d chosen to dive on the Squid’s Head, an oblong mound of rock and coral three or four boat-lengths from her. Miyoko’s taunts had been especially sharp on the ride over to this part of the reef—hence Kaida’s relief to return to the silence of the aquatic world—and when Miyoko was sharp-tongued like this, evil words had a way of becoming evil deeds. The other two weren’t vicious like her; if anything, they were scared of Miyoko, maybe even as scared as Kaida was. Not that it mattered. Whether they followed out of loyalty or simply to avoid becoming targets themselves, they still followed.

The fact that Sen was their oarsman today made matters worse. He was a simpleton, born with no more wit than the gods granted a sea turtle. He had just enough sense to row a boat where he was told, and not nearly enough to tell the difference between a wicked smile and a friendly one. When Miyoko’s barbs made the other two laugh, Sen understood only that he was to laugh along with them. If Miyoko decided to do more than talk, Kaida could not hope for Sen to intervene, even though he was a grown man and the four girls were all in their teens.

Sand billowed up around Kaida’s feet as she reached the long fingers of brain coral that everyone in the village called the Tentacles. Schools of coral fish scattered from her like leaves on a stiff breeze, their whites, blacks, and yellows fluttering like a thousand pennants. A wave of cold rippled over her. She was two or three body-lengths deeper than the Squid’s Head, and looking up, she saw the others swimming with long, graceful strokes. They danced like three white dolphins behind the screen of coral fish stripes.

Kaida’s own movements felt clumsy in comparison. She hooked the stump of her left arm through the tether on her sandbag, and with her right hand she withdrew her
kaigane
and wedged its metal tip between the coral and the shell of the nearest abalone.

It was a stubborn one, and since she couldn’t abide the thought of chipping the beautiful green whorls of coral, it took her some time to coax it free. The other
ama
were already bound for the surface. They’d have more than one lousy abalone in their catch bags. Kaida’s lungs burned, but she refused to head back up.

She found a second oyster entrenched even deeper than the first. Passing it by, she found a third one, tiny by comparison. The fourth was worth keeping, so she went to work on it with her
kaigane
.

She couldn’t say what it was that made her look up. When she did, the three white dolphins were no longer diving on the Squid’s Head. Kaida looked up at the belly of the boat, hoping to see the other
ama
up there. It was only when she saw Shioko frog-kicking down at her that she knew she was under attack.

Two hands locked fast around her right wrist. They were Kiyoko’s, and Kiyoko was the strongest of them all; Kaida knew she couldn’t free her hand.

Slender forearms slipped around her midsection from behind like a pair of eels. That would be Miyoko. She always wanted to inflict the worst blows herself. Kaida slammed her head backward, hoping to catch her in time, but Miyoko was ready for it. She must have tucked her head, because Kaida’s skull cracked against something hard, not something soft and crunchy like a nose.