Araki drove farther down the street and parked the van in a position where they could observe the car.
“Any ideas why they would be here?” Lake asked. He pulled his gun out of the holster and replaced the magazine with a fully loaded one, Araki watching the action.
“No.”
“So who is this guy Nishin that you’re following?”
“He is a member of the Black Ocean Society.”
“A ronin,” Lake said.
The comment earned him a surprised look from Araki. “You know of the societies?”
“A little,” Lake said. “They’re your version of our Patriot groups or militias. Bunch of wackos running around so far right of right that they aren’t even on the map board anymore.”
“But our societies have been in existence for many years,” Araki said, “while yours are a recent phenomenon. The Black Ocean dates back well before World War II. You used the term ronin,” Araki continued. “That is what an agent of one of the overseas societies used to be called. I suspect your knowledge is deeper than you are willing to admit.”
“I ain’t admitting anything,” Lake said. “And you still haven’t told me much about Nishin.”
“I do not have much to tell other than some of his background. As I told you earlier, I do not know why he is here in the United States, but there is no doubt that it is not for a noble reason.”
Lake thought about it. Could there be a connection between the Japanese societies and the American Patriots? While seemingly farfetched on the surface, the concept held intriguing possibilities if one looked deeper. Starry and Preston on the bridge with the paint sprayer. The part Japanese man in the boat below. Most curious. Lake pulled back the slide on the Hush Puppy, insuring a round was ready in the chamber.
Nishin heard someone cry out what sounded like an order, but he couldn’t make out the words. Boots pounded on the tile. Close to the floor, Nishin looked around the corner. The four Koreans were running toward the door, one of them holding a cardboard box in his arms. Nishin sprang to his feet and the second they were out the door, he sprinted after them.
“There!” Araki cried out.
Four men were hurrying across the lawn toward the LTD.
“They’ve got something,” Lake noted.
“What now?” Araki asked.
“We—” Lake paused as another figure came out of the building. “Shit!” As the last figure raised the Steyr automatic rifle and opened up on the Koreans, Lake kicked open the door to the van. The man with the box tumbled down, papers spilling out. The other three Koreans dove for cover behind some abstract concrete sculptures mat decorated the lawn. Two kept up an effective covering fire as the third collected the box. The gun battle was played out in silence, the flashes of the weapons the only indication that things were amiss on the lawn in front of Wellman Hall.
“Police!” Lake called out from behind the security of his open door. “Freeze where you are!” He was too far away for the Hush Puppy to do much good.
One of the Koreans fired a half a magazine in the van’s direction, the other kept the Japanese man pinned down near the building and they beat a hasty retreat to their LTD. Fortunately MAC-10s weren’t much more effective than the Hush Puppy at ranges over twenty-five meters and the bullets passed by harmlessly.
The Koreans worked as effectively as any elite infantry squad Lake had ever seen. The Japanese man with the Steyr retreated back inside the building and out of sight. As the LTD roared out of the lot, Lake made a quick decision.
“Drive up to the body,” he ordered Araki as he regained his seat inside.
“What about Nishin and the Koreans?”
“We can find the Koreans again. Right now, we need to do some cleaning up.”
Araki did as Lake requested, parking at the curb, fifteen feet from where the body lay facedown in the grass. Lake lifted the man and carried him back to the side door of the van, ignoring the blood that was staining his clothes. “What are you doing?” Araki asked as Lake dumped the body into the back.
“Cleaning up the scene of the crime,” Lake said. He turned and walked back to where the body had been.
“Why?” Araki asked, this time accompanying Lake.
“We left two bodies back there in the tunnel, that’s enough publicity for one evening. No one heard this here. I don’t hear sirens yet, so there’s a good chance no one saw it. The less that gets in the news, the better.” He scooped up the loose papers that were on the grass. “When the sprinklers come on in the morning, it will wash away the blood. No one will ever know.” He picked up the MAC-10 the man had been carrying and added that to his load.
They got back in the van. Araki started the engine and they drove off the campus. Lake turned on his direction finder and cursed.
“What is the matter?” Araki asked.
Lake picked up the MAC-10 he had recovered. He un screwed the back of the pistol grip and held up a small metal object. “A one-in-eight chance and of course I end up with my own hugged gun.”
“They will go back to their trawler,” Araki said confidently.
“So you were watching there, too,” Lake said.
“I did—” Araki began but caught himself. “I followed Nishin to the trawler.”
“Uh-huh,” Lake said.
“What are we doing with the body?” Araki asked.
“Drive to the Golden Gate National Recreation Area,” Lake said. “I know where to dispose of it.”
“Aren’t you worried about the Koreans getting away?”
“Aren’t you worried about Nishin getting away?” Lake asked in turn. He didn’t wait for an answer. “The Koreans are going back to the ship, like you said. That ship isn’t going anywhere this morning. You can’t just pull up anchor at one in the morning and sail away. They have to file a request and get permission from the harbormaster to leave port. The Coast Guard would be on them in a heartbeat if they didn’t and I don’t think they want that to happen.”
“You’ve checked on that?” Araki asked.
“They haven’t got a departure slot,” Lake confirmed.
“What about whatever was in the box the Koreans stole?” Araki asked. “Won’t someone at the university report that?”
Lake picked up the handful of papers. “That’s who I’m going to talk to first thing in the morning, after we get rid of the body.”
CHAPTER 7
The body hit the water with a splash and the chains wrapped around it took it instantly out of sight. Lake walked from the pier back to the van and sat down in the passenger seat. They were parked on the shoreline, just east of the south part of the Golden Gate, near the point where Lake had come ashore the previous week after spoiling the gassing plot. It was a calm place, the only sounds that of foghorns off to the west and the gentle lap of water on the shore. The Coast Guard Station was farther up the shore, well lit, but otherwise looking very quiet.
Lake took a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it, ignoring Araki’s look of distaste. Lake inhaled deeply, then let out a cloud of smoke. “Okay, so we’re here together,” he said, “but I still don’t know whether you are who you say you are and even if you are who you say you are, whether I ought to be sitting here with you.”
“I understand your concerns.” Araki said. “I have similar concerns. I do not know if you are truly an agent of your government and, if you are, whether I should also be sitting here with you.”
“I don’t give a fuck about your concerns,” Lake said without raising his voice. “I’ve got the home-court advantage here, which means you play by my rules.” He reached inside his windbreaker and pulled out his satellite phone. “I’m going to bounce this to my higher-up and see what he has to say about you.”