Savage chuckled. “Remember where my head is.”
“Just close your eyes and keep it there.”
“I doubt I'll sleep.”
“You might if you think about that beach near Cancun. Imagine the rhythm of the waves on the shore. Even if you don't sleep, relaxing will do you good. R and R. Is that what you call it? So you're ready for what we'll be facing.”
“As soon as it's dark…”
“I'll wake you,” Rachel said. “That's a promise. Believe me, I want to get out of here.”
5
Rachel's teeth chattered-less from fear than cold, Savage sensed. In the dark, as the temperature kept dropping, he draped his jacket around her shoulders and guided her farther along the wall. He'd decided that trying to leave through a path from the park was possibly more dangerous during the night than in daylight. Hailey's hidden men would have a safer chance of killing them and escaping under cover of the neon confusion of Tokyo 's nightlife.
Reversing their earlier direction, Savage led Rachel southward, reached a western jog in the wall, and followed its angle. Unseen branches tugged at his shirt and threatened his eyes. If not for the halo of dense traffic opposite the wall, he couldn't have found his way. Horns blared. Engines roared.
“Enough,” Savage said. “Hailey's pissing me off. This spot's as good as any. If we go much farther, we'll circle the park. Screw it. Let's go.”
Savage raised his arms to grip the top of the wall, pulled himself up so his eyes showed just above the wall, and warily studied the street below him. Headlights surged past. A Japanese man and woman strolled beneath him along a sidewalk. Otherwise there were few pedestrians.
Savage dropped back onto the ground. “I didn't see anything to make me change my mind. Are you ready?”
“As I'll ever be.” She mustered resolve. “… Better give me a boost.”
Savage put his arms around her legs and lifted, feeling her skirt and thighs against his cheek. A moment later, she squirmed upward out of his grasp. As soon as she reached the crest, inching over, he hurriedly climbed after her. Together, they dangled from the opposite side. Heart pounding, Savage landed first and helped her down so her stockinged feet wouldn't be injured if her full weight struck the concrete.
Checking both ways along the sidewalk, Savage barked, “Quickly. Cross the street.”
A man had appeared from shadows a hundred yards to his left. Headlights revealed the man's face. A Caucasian. He blurted something to a radio in his hand and raced toward Savage and Rachel, fumbling for an object beneath his suitcoat.
“Do it!” Savage said. “Cross the street!”
“But…!”
The blazing cars formed a constantly moving barrier.
“We can't stay here!” To Savage's right, opposite the Caucasian running toward them, another Caucasian appeared, racing to flank them.
“We'll be…!”
“Now!” Savage said. He grabbed Rachel's hand, saw a slight break in traffic, and darted off the sidewalk.
Headlights streaked toward them. Brakes squealed. Savage kept running. He still gripped Rachel's hand, although she no longer needed urging.
In the next lane, another speeding car made Rachel curse. She surged in front of him.
Horns shrilled. The stench of exhaust flared Savage's nostrils. His stride lengthened.
They reached the street's divider. Wind from rushing cars flapped Rachel's skirt. Breathing hard, Savage glanced behind him and saw the two Caucasians rushing along the sidewalk. Assessing traffic, they searched for a break between cars so they could sprint across the street.
Savage waved at drivers in the opposite lanes, warning them that he and Rachel were about to race across. A Toyota slowed. Savage took the chance and bolted, Rachel charging next to him. They dodged another car and reached the far sidewalk.
Storefronts gleamed. Pedestrians gaped. An alley beckoned. As Savage ducked into it, he glanced again behind him, seeing the two Caucasians bolt from the sidewalk. At the same time, he sensed an object looming toward him. Pivoting, startled, he saw a van veer out of traffic. It aimed toward the alley.
He turned to run, but not before the van's windshield starred. Holes stitched it, glass imploding. Bullet holes.
The van hit the curb. With a jolt, it heaved above the sidewalk, walloped down, veered, kept surging, and smashed through a storefront to the left of the alley.
Metal scraped. Glass shattered. Despite the explosive impact, Savage thought he heard screams from within the van. For certain, he heard pedestrians scream. And shouts from the men across the street.
Several cars skidded to a stop.
Rachel trembled, frozen with shock.
“Run!” Savage said.
He tugged her.
The compulsion of fear canceled her stunned paralysis. She raced past garbage cans along the dark alley.
But what if the alley's a trap? Savage suddenly thought.
Suppose Hailey's men are in here.
No! They can't be everywhere!
Who shot at the van? Who was driving the van?
Dismay racked Savage's mind. Confusion threatened his sanity.
Someone wants to stop us. Someone else wants us to search.
Who? Why?
What the hell are we going to do?
They reached the next street. An approaching taxi made Savage's chest contract. He flagged it down, shoved Rachel inside, and scrambled after her, saying, “ Ginza,” hoping the driver would understand that they wanted to go to that district.
The driver, wearing a cap and white gloves, frowned at the disheveled appearance of his harried Caucasian passengers. He seemed uncertain whether he wanted Savage and Rachel to be his customers. But Savage held up several thousand-yen bills.
The driver nodded, pulled away, expertly merging with speeding traffic.
Savage heard the increasing wail of sirens-with no doubt where they were headed. Straining not to show his tension, he could only hope that the driver wouldn't decide that his passengers had something to do with the sirens.
The taxi turned a corner. Police cars swiftly approached in an opposite lane, their sirens louder, flashers blazing.
Then the cruisers were gone, and though the taxi's driver glanced after them, he didn't stop. Savage touched Rachel's hand. Her fingers trembled.
6
Amid dense traffic that somehow kept flowing, they finally reached the Ginza district. Akira had explained that Ginza meant “silver place” and referred to the fact that several hundred years ago the national mint had been located here. Since then, the area had developed into Tokyo 's major shopping center, with seemingly endless stores, bars, and restaurants.
The closest equivalent Savage could imagine was New York 's Times Square before the junkies, hookers, and porno shops had contaminated its glamour. Neon. Savage had never seen so much of it. Everywhere he looked, brilliant lights turned the night into day. An awesome combination of electrified colors. Some constantly blazed. Others pulsed or flashed messages in a row along buildings like a massive radiant ticker tape. The glare of congested headlights added to the spectacle. Well-dressed pedestrians crowded the exciting streets.
Savage had no intention of showing the driver Akira's note, which in Japanese provided directions to the restaurant where Akira was supposed to call. The authorities might question all taxi drivers who'd picked up Caucasians, and Savage wanted to keep the rendezvous site beyond suspicion. Besides, he and Rachel weren't due there again until Akira's next scheduled call at nine tomorrow morning.
But Savage had other motives that compelled him to reach this district. For one thing, the comparatively few Caucasians in the city tended toward the Ginza 's glittering nightlife, and he and Rachel needed desperately to blend in. For another, they needed fresh clothes, but having been followed so expertly, they didn't dare return to the railway station, where they'd left their travel bags in a locker. A surveillance team might be waiting, on the chance that Savage and Rachel would retrace their steps and attempt to retrieve their belongings.