He raised his automatic rifle and fired a burst into the tiles just above where he estimated the top lateral beam ran. The tiles shattered and Oga slung his rifle and levered himself up so that he was supported by the beam but able to look over the ridge. In truth, he was too high. He pulled back and lay at an angle so only what was absolutely necessary was exposed. Unfortunately, that was his head.
He felt scared and vulnerable and was just beginning to regret his enthusiasm when he suddenly saw a figure on a flat roof only two blocks away rise to aim a shoulder-fired RPG over the parapet wall.
The terrorist seemed close enough to touch. Oga felt that the man must notice him any second. They were monitoring the roofline, he knew from the burst of fire that had killed Sergeant Tomoto.
The terrorist with the launcher was intent on lining up his target below. The sergeant had been killed with automatic-weapons fire, so that meant that almost certainly there was at least one other terrorist armed with an automatic weapon on the roof. Or an adjoining roof. Or moving around.
Oga ducked down and unslung his weapon. It came to him that Chifune was lying there helpless below, and then he moved without hesitation, straightening up so that his weight was fully supported on the bar and then bringing the automatic rifle up to his shoulder and firing as soon as the red laser dot came to bear.
Rounds hammered from the flash guard of the Howa and smashed the arm steadying the launcher before hitting home just below the terrorist's throat. He fell backward, already dead, and as he hit the ground his finger was jarred against the trigger.
The rocket blasted out and blew the water-tank housing into the air. The tank inside exploded in a lethal fountain of metal, steam, and water.
A figure scurried out form behind the debris and got up on the parapet, ready to jump across a narrow alley onto an adjoining roof.
There was a split second during which the shot looked possible, but Detective Inspector Oga did not squeeze the trigger.
The think plank beneath his feet had just snapped and he had instantly dropped an unsettling two inches. There was perhaps thirty seconds' pause while the molecules in the thin laths and tiles debated whether they could sustain his weight. Oga did not dare move.
It didn't help. Tiles and laths snapped one after the other as if in syncopation before he came to a bone-jarring halt on the next, thicker lateral support. That might have been enough, except the building had been erected only a few years after World War II when really any grade of material had to do. And the building inspector was a cousin of the second cousin of the builder. And he was connected with the local yakuza clan who just happened to have a load of rather dubious lumber in need of a good home.
The wooden support hesitated, vibrated. And then snapped at a knothole.
Oga was just about to go over the edge when Chifune, her hair matted with blood, appeared through the hole in the roof and grabbed him as he was sailing by. She could well have been pulled down with him, except that the Kidotai held on to her.
As the pair of them were pulled in, Chifune thought more kindly of the brawn of the security police. There were times when she was quite in favor of big strong men. Sexist or otherwise.
The Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department was officially run by the Superintendent General, and he was the man who appeared frequently in the public eye looking authoritative and concerned and dignified and projecting exactly the right public image.
In the Japanese tradition of public image and private reality – " tatamae and honne " – the Tokyo MPD was actually run by the remote and sphinxlike figure of Deputy Superintendent Saburo Enoke, known to one and all within the Tokyo MPD as ‘The Spider.’ Secretly, he was also director of counterterrorism.
The Spider had the social warmth of a well-iced dead tuna in the Ginza fish market, but though not liked, he was respected and, where appropriate, feared. No one knew quite how he did it, but the consensus was that he did an outstanding job with the police department. In Tokyo, the crime rate was a fraction of that in other major cities, and terrorism was regarded as being reasonably well under control. Most hard-core terrorists had fled Japan for the Middle East and elsewhere. Most.
Exceptions did not please the Spider. But the context of some exceptions was – he searched for the right word – complex. Sometimes exceedingly so. There were forces that the Spider could influence and others that were outside his control. Sometimes that meant accommodating interests that he was privately opposed to. This had been such an occasion. But the Spider believed he could operate most effectively by staying within the web, and to ensure that sometimes sacrifices were required.
Neither the Spider's face nor his body language gave any indication at all of his inner thoughts. The Spider's control was legendary. It was also quite unnerving.
Although the Tokyo MPD had a reputation for integrity, Chifune had initially harbored strong doubts about the Spider. It was only during Fitzduane's visit to Tokyo that she had realized that the Deputy Superintendent of Police was not, as she had originally suspected, an inside man for corrupt politicians and organized crime, but instead was, as the gaijin had said, ‘on the side of the angels.’
He did not look like an angel, Chifune reflected. He was very small and somewhat squat and looked almost like a mannequin in his very large and well-padded black leather swivel chair. His tailoring was impeccable but revealed nothing except a sense of order. His one human touch was a penchant for rather elegant designer glasses.
Chifune, on secondment from Koancho, had reported directly to the DSG for over a year. Working with Oga, promoted from sergeant, she had been focused on eliminating the last vestiges of the terrorist group known as Yaibo.
The gaijin, Fitzduane, had created the opportunity by destroying the inner cadre of Yaibo and killing the leader, Reiko Oshima. Since then, it had been mainly a matter of tracking down the small fry – until yesterday.
Yesterday's deliberate ambush, carefully planned and meticulously executed, was more redolent of earlier times when Yaibo had acquired their reputation. They had been the bloodiest terrorist group Japan had ever experienced since the political assassins of the thirties, who had brought the militarists into power, had flourished.
Yaibo had murdered her lover and best friend, Detective Superintendent Aki Adachi. Never a day went by that Chifune did not miss him. She would never forget, nor would she forgive. Her commitment was absolute.
"Tanabu- san," said the Spider quietly, and the effect was like a breeze springing up and beginning to thin out a mist. She might not like what she was about to behold, but she would see.
Chifune nodded respectfully. This was not proving easy for the DSG.
"It has been necessary, Tanabu- san," continued the Spider, "to keep certain information from you despite the fact that it was directly relevant to your work. This view was not mine, but I acceded to it. There were good reasons for this, but I am exceedingly embarrassed. I have your trust, I know, and I feel I have partially betrayed it. It grieves me. It was not appropriate behavior."
"Directly relevant to your work." Yaibo! Thought Chifune. What could it be? She had read every file, interrogated every suspect, checked every computer record on Yaibo, and talked to every cop with specialist knowledge. So what could she have missed?
"You missed nothing," said the Spider. "No one could have been more thorough and more resolute, but these facts were not in the records. It was a policy decision by certain members of the security service. It was felt that it would be better if you were not informed. A confusion of loyalties was suspected."
Fitzduane! thought Chifune. There had been that one night of love before he had returned to Kathleen to marry her. And she had returned to Adachi, who had died so soon afterward. Who had been slaughtered like an animal by Reiko Oshima and her assassins. Her alliance with the gaijin had made her suspect in the eyes of her superiors. Her loyalty should be entirely to Japan, not confused by an affair with a foreigner. It was a traditionalist view but not entirely surprising. It was also a male chauvinist view, and that was profoundly irritating.