Now that was legendary.
Drake fired, shooting the gun out of Kovalenko’s hand. Alicia sent the next one through his collarbone. Two more came from the marines, the first blasting half his thigh away, the next hitting below the hip. The man slumped. Smyth scrambled away. Drake stooped and hauled Kovalenko up as blood fountained high from the major artery in his thigh, a fitting spectacle for a man with so much red on his hands.
Kinimaka rose to his feet. “Fuck this shit, I’m calling the hospital.”
“That message?” Drake nodded to Smyth. “You should friggin’ frame it. Saved your life.”
“I know.”
Drake crouched down and took hold of the Blood King’s heavy jacket. “God, I hope you’re not dead yet,” he said.
Consciousness still swam in the Blood King’s eyes. That, and a little bit of disbelief, a ton of hatred and hostility, and beneath it all — still a terrible unyielding purpose.
“Just this once,” Drake said point-blank into his face. “I hope there is a hell and the Devil makes you his bitch.”
“Not… over.” Kovalenko faltered. “On my… death. She alone finishes the Vendetta.”
Drake pulled back. “What?”
“Goodbye. I will see you in Hell soon enough.”
Drake shook the man hard. Kovalenko’s eyes closed as his blood gushed into the sand. Drake cursed and shook him again, slapped his face. He couldn’t believe that now he was trying to keep the Blood King alive.
Alicia placed a hand on his shoulder. “He’s gone. Thank God.”
“No,” Drake said. He slapped Kovalenko again. “You didn’t hear—”
The Blood King’s eyes opened wide. He took a deep rasping breath. “If I see any of your dead friends on my travels,” he rasped. “I’ll be sure to fuck them up.”
Drake’s jaw locked. He couldn’t speak. How could so much hatred and enmity come from one mind? Even in death.
“She will come for you,” Kovalenko said quite clearly. “You see, Zoya gave me her details. Now Coyote will fulfill the Vendetta.”
Drake didn’t know whether to be happy or sad. There were many pros and cons swirling around any new contact with the Coyote. “We will stand together,” he said. “She is but one person. We are a family.”
“Not with the plan she made.” The Blood King let out a final death rattle. “The Kitano woman. Myles. The Swede. And you, Drake. You four will have to kill each other.”
Then he died.
CHAPTER FIFTY
Mai caught up with Hibiki near the bright sprawling Sony stand. There the sheer volume of people would make it very difficult for anyone to keep track of her. The charade with Hikaru would give her a few hours grace, no more. Hopefully the Clan were still egotistical enough to assume she would carry out their every order. If they weren’t, and they were here, she had a plan B for that too.
Mai pushed her way into the crowd. Hibiki was leaning over a PS4. “Did you get what you needed?”
Mai gave him a look.
“Sorry. Of course you did. Silly of me to ask. So it’s time to light the fire?”
Mai dragged him away from the new console and toward the exit door. “Light the fire. Call the boys. Ready the men, we’ll be going in hard, dirty and hot.”
“Sometimes I forget how much fun working with you can be.”
Mai paused as they entered the Tokyo sunshine. She dug out her phone and sent a quick text off to Gyuki.
It’s done. I will wait to hear from you.
As she started to walk away, she remembered the picture Hibiki had taken earlier, the one she wanted to tease Smyth with. She lined the message up. With her finger on the send button she suddenly paused.
Tease? Really?
No, not really. She just wanted to make his day. She felt sorry for the hot-tempered soldier and even more so now that his pal, Romero, was dead. She didn’t love Drake any less, but she was still her own woman and would do some things as she fancied.
Decision made, she hit the send button.
Job done. Hope it helps.
Hibiki walked away from her. Mai flagged down a taxi and gave the driver an area outside Tokyo to start with. Once there, she would refine the directions. Hibiki and her old friends — the guys from the agency who still cared for her and wanted to see this thing through to the very end — would be following.
Mai relaxed as the taxi negotiated the strangled roads of central Tokyo. It took over an hour to gain the countryside, and by that time she had switched off her phone and was able to immerse herself in a clear stream of thoughts, all the way down to her core.
A bitter homecoming to be sure. The fight of her life, and something she had to see through if she was ever going to break free of her bonds, both mental and physical. Memories of that far gone day still came at her like killers ambushing her in a thick jungle. Hellish memories.
The old man smiles as he comes to take me away. The generous benefactor. The predator.
I whirl, turn back to my mother and see the tears washing down from her eyes.
The old man peels me away, hands like sandpaper. I strain every ounce of my body towards my parents as I’m dragged away.
The emptiness. The longing. The new broken thing that aches inside my body. And then…
… and then — the forgetting.
The old man, Bishamon, and Gyuki in particular had to pay for the atrocities they had committed in this country, at the clan home and around the world. The innocent victims, those still living and those long dead, needed some kind of recompense.
Mai paid the taxi driver and sent him on his way. By her judgment, she was about two miles away from the village. The woods looked inviting, and Mai followed the gentle curve of a trickling brook, enjoying the dappling of sunlight on her face and the fresh scented breeze. Without dawdling, she used the journey to still the center of her being and to cleanse her soul. Her passage disturbed several animals, rabbits, mice, rats. She saw them all. Her concentration levels had never been higher.
The tree line ended up against a rough wooden fence. Beyond that, Mai saw the village as she had seen it recently, and long ago. It had barely changed, the only additions being the extra billet and the jail. She could hear the sound of chanting and assumed most of the ‘students’ were sitting around the fighting arena, watching bouts and demonstrations given by the masters. Mai touched the crude fence and pulled some stakes from the ground. She ducked through the gap, feeling the soft forest loam give beneath her shoes. She took a last look up at the clear blue skies.
This could be the last time she breathed freely. Or breathed at all. She had enjoyed the operation at the Game Show. She had enjoyed the attention. She loved the attention that Smyth gave her, and especially Drake.
Because it made her feel alive. And free.
Free. And if I lose my freedom I will find a way to die. Today.
Mai crossed the open grassland, stopping only when she came up against the second long billet. She risked a peek through a nearby window. The long hall was empty, the beds neatly made, the floors swept and washed. She could use this wall to mask her progress to the top end of the village. It might be useful to let Hibiki know her plan, but she had turned her phone off.
Never mind. He’s clever enough to figure it out. She hoped so. If not for her sake or for his, then for Chika’s.
Mai raced ahead. She reached the top end of the billet in seconds and peered around its ragged edge. The logs it was made of smelled earthy and damp. Across the way stood the small dwellings of the clan chiefs, and past them the low prison building. Almost directly ahead stood the ornate temple, Bishamon’s lair, but standing before it now was something completely new.