"Namaka-san," said Fitzduane, "clearly you did not eat enough fish as a child. There can be too much of a good thing. Put that weapon down."
Kei looked across. The gaijin had moved again. Now he was by the small table where his belongings had been placed and there was something in his hands.
"Don't disappoint me, Fitzduane-san," he said. "Let us fight man to man."
Fitzduane looked at the carnage around him and then at Kei. "Don't be ridiculous," he said. "The familiar Calico was now in his hand. The exploding ex had been a nice idea, but he did not relish being in the same room when it went off. Metal fragments traveling at high velocity had no discrimination.
"FIGHT ME, GAIJIN!" Kei roared, and charged at Fitzduane, the ax held high above his head.
This is the man who arranged to have me killed and who nearly killed my son, thought Fitzduane. Still, there was deep regret, as he squeezed the trigger of the Calico and 10mm red tracer winked across the room, smashed effortlessly through the ornate samurai armor, and tore the magnificent body of Kei Namaka into shreds.
The remains that had been the chairman of the Namaka Corporation crumpled, and streams of crimson spread out across the seamless wooden floor.
"Namaka-san," said Fitzduane to himself, "we gaijins have our weaknesses, but we know — we truly know — about the business of killing. And there is scant glory in it."
In a far corner of the room, the new security chief of the Namaka Corporation crouched. Under the samurai war helmet, he was white-faced and shaking with fear.
Fitzduane walked across to him, the Calico loosely trained on the terrified man. "Goto-san," he said mildly, "are you sure you are on the right career path?"
Goto shook and could not speak. The gaijin had killed five armed men in less than a minute, and he was certain it would soon be six. He had taken the job of security chief after Kitano's abrupt demise to consolidate his power in the Namaka keiretsu, but had never dreamed he would be much more than an administrator. The reality of violence made him sick.
"Goto-san," said Fitzduane. "If you don't want me to add to your normal quota of body apertures, you're going to get up and show me how to get out of here."
The terrified man did not move.
Fitzduane straightened his aim so that the Calico was pointing directly between Goto's eyes. "Please," said Fitzduane dryly.
* * * * *
The only reason they were not dead, Chifune reflected, as heavy automatic fire cracked inches overhead and drew splinters from the base of the tower, was the thin double line of sandbags about two feet high and eight feet long behind which they were sheltering.
She could not at first figure out what the bags were doing there, since the layout in no way constituted an emplacement, and then realized that they were probably used in high winds to help secure the skids of parked helicopters.
The bags had been filled with a thin, high-quality sand, unfortunately, and as the gunfire ripped open the bags, the sand was flowing out at an uncomfortably fast rate. In a matter of minutes they would be well-equipped to build sand castles but devoid of cover. They were going to have to do something very soon.
Oga was lying on his back, his Heckler and Koch MP5 pointed up at the top of the tower. From time to time, a head would appear and someone would try to shoot down, but Oga's accurate snap-shooting in semiautomatic mode to conserve ammunition kept the situation under control. He was talented at this sort of thing, observed Chifune. It was more than standard airborne training.
"How is your CQB, Sergeant-san?" said Chifune. She was referring to Close Quarters Battle training, the highly specialized skills acquired for hostage training or close-in counterterrorist work.
Oga fired twice rapidly at a silhouette appearing over the tower parapet and red mist stained the air. "Rusty, but coming back to me," he said. "They say it's like riding a bicycle. When you get older, you can still do it, but your joints creak."
Chifune smiled briefly. She had heard much the same comment made about another popular human pastime.
"If we stay here, we're going to get killed," she said. "If we advance to attack the guards in and around the doorway, we're not going to make it. There is at least a half-dozen of them and there are forty-odd yards to cover. Also, they will be able to hit us with the fifty on the roof from behind."
"Which leaves the tower or waiting until help comes?" said Oga.
"Help is going to take twenty minutes or more," said Chifune, "even with the quick reaction team."
"So put a 40mm into the doorway and have Renako hose them down for a few seconds while we kick in the tower doorway," said Oga. "My guess, after the helicopter blew up beside them, is tat all the survivors are on the roof."
"How many do you think?" said Chifune.
"Less that there were," said Oga grimly. "Two or three, four at the most. So let's do it."
Chifune looked up at the tower again. She could take the top off with a 40mm grenade, but they were too close for the projectile to arm, and even if it did the resultant explosion could well take them out too. She made a mental note to take good, old-fashioned hand grenades with her in the future. This obsession with direct-fire weapons was ridiculous. Within seconds of any firefight starting, every sane participant was under cover, and then grenades were the best tools for the job.
Renako cried out and Chifune looked across. The detective's face was screwed up with pain. He reached down and pulled his leg under cover as if it could not move of its own volition. A round had smashed into his foot when it had strayed from behind their meager barrier into the line of fire. His face was gray with shock and there was sweat beaded on his forehead. The pain from such a wound would be intense, even if it was not immediately life-threatening.
"Renako-san," said Chifune. "Can you take the roof? We are going to clear it, but you must keep their heads down for a few seconds. Then we can help you."
Renako nodded weakly. Oga helped him onto his back so that he could watch the parapet, and checked that his weapon had a full magazine and a round chambered. He too had an MP5, but Oga set it to automatic.
"Nothing clever, Renako-san," said Oga. "Just spray the fuckers if they show."
"Hai, Sergeant-san," said Renako. He felt dizzy and the parapet was going in and out of focus, but he thought he could hang in there long enough.
Chifune had been reluctant to fire her grenade launcher into the doorway since, if Fitzduane was alive, the chances were he would be in that direction. Still, they had just about run out of the luxury of options.
"On my mark, Sergeant-san," she said, looking at Oga. He nodded.
"NOW!" she shouted.
Oga rose behind the barrier, weapon blazing, causing the guards in and around the doorway to duck temporarily. Almost immediately, Chifune added to the hail of fire with her C-Mag-fed automatic rifle and then sighted the grenade launcher and fired.
The bulbous projectile, looking like a massively oversized bullet, shot from the under-barrel grenade launcher and vanished through the doorway.