“I don’t run a phone book. This is a bar.”
Nishin could see that the man’s right hand was hidden behind the bar. Nishin walked forward and took a stool directly in front of Jonas. “Then I would like a drink.”
Nishin had been briefed about the American Patriots. Extremists who fought against government control. Nishin thought the entire concept quite ludicrous in the country with the laxest society he had ever seen. If you couldn’t do it in America, you couldn’t do it anywhere. The Patriots didn’t have any higher agenda. In his opinion, they were only fighting against something, not for anything. The Black Ocean had the Sun Goddess and the Emperor. To fight negatively like these men did was doomed to failure.
“What kind?” Jonas asked.
“Saki.”
“We don’t have that piss-water here,” Jonas replied. “Why don’t you take your act down the street?”
“You are not very hospitable for a man whose occupation is. hospitality Nishin said. He noted that Jonas’s right hand was still below the bar. “I will take whatever beer you have on draft.”
Jonas stared at him, then reluctantly grabbed a mug with his left hand. He paused, then turned toward the taps. That was what Nishin was waiting for. He swiftly leaned over the bar and grabbed the sawed-off shotgun that Jonas had hidden there.
“Hey!” Jonas yelled. He froze as Nishin pointed the twin large bores at his midsection.
“I have heard that such weapons are illegal, even here in America,” Nishin said. “But it is fortunate that you have this.” He ignored Jonas’s confused look. “Because I am interested in meeting a man who would deal in such weapons as this. Indeed, I am searching for even more sophisticated weaponry.”
“I don’t know nothing about any kind of man like that,” Jonas growled.
“Ah, but this says differently,” Nishin said, wagging the end of the gun slightly.
“I did that myself. The gun’s legal at full length. I cut it. Any fool can do it with a hacksaw.”
Nishin ran the fingers of his left hand over the end of the bore. “This was not done with a hacksaw. This was professionally done.” He shrugged. “Be that as it may, I do not wish to further waste my time. I am looking for a man who sold eight silenced Ingram MAC-10s to some Koreans a few nights ago.”
Jonas folded his arms over his chest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Nishin gave a deep sigh, then tossed the shotgun to Jonas, who, startled, reached out to catch it. As he did so, Nishin was vaulting the bar, both feet smashing into Jonas’s now exposed chest, staggering the bigger man against the back of the bar. Bottles fell and crashed, the shotgun clattered to the floor, and Jonas doubled over trying to catch his breath.
Nishin drew out the modified ice scraper. He grabbed the hair on the back of Jonas’s head and pulled his face up. He jammed the point of the ice scraper into the bartender’s neck. “Who was the gun dealer? What was his name?”
“Fuck you,” Jonas hissed.
Nishin realized he had miscalculated. He had usually found that large men broke easily once you gained the upper hand. He stepped away and scooped up the shotgun, putting the ice scraper into his pocket. Jonas was leaning against the back of the bar, trying to control his breathing, wincing from the pain of broken ribs. Nishin grabbed a large towel from under the bar and wrapped it around the end of the shotgun.
“What are you doing?” Jonas asked, his eyes following Nishin’s every move.
Nishin didn’t reply with words. He aimed at Jonas’s left leg and fired one of the barrels. The towel muted the noise of the blast so that it wasn’t heard outside of the bar, but it didn’t slow dqwji the pellets that ripped into Jonas’s left knee. The joint buckled and Jonas was down, cursing in pain.
“Fuck you! Fuck you!”
Nishin stepped over Jonas’s prostrate form and aimed at his groin. “Who was he? You know I will fire again since I already have once.”
“Oh, shit,” Jonas groaned. “You’re fucking crazy.”
“I just want some information,” Nishin said. “I think I have been most reasonable up to a point.”
“I got protection, man. I’m fucking protected!” Jonas screamed.
“I am not interested in your American gangsters or their protection,” Nishin said.
“Not the mob, you dumb fuck. I got friends in the feds. The government. They’ll be on you like shit on stink.”
Nishin found that interesting. “Really? And who exactly are your friends?”
“Fuck you!”
Nishin glanced at the door. At any moment someone might wander in. He got back to his original purpose. He jammed the end of the muzzle into Jonas’s groin. “The name of the gun dealer?”
“Lake,” Jonas spit out.
“Lake?”
“Yeah, as in a fucking large body of water. Lake. That’s all I know. That’s the only name he uses.”
“Who does Lake work for?”
“He’s a freelancer,” Jonas said, his eyes still mesmerized by the ripped end of the towel on the end of the shot gun and the smoke curling around the barrel. “He sells guns to whoever has the money. He’s been hanging around the Patriots, working with some of them, but he doesn’t work for anyone as far as I know.”
“Is he a Patriot?”
“Not a member of any group I know, but he seems to support the cause.”
“Where can I find him?” Nishin asked.
“I don’t know.”
“You must have had a way to get in contact with him,” Nishin insisted.
“I’ve got a phone number. It’s a hall phone. Sounds like some cheap flophouse. Sometimes he’s there, sometimes he isn’t.”
“The number?”
Jonas recited the seven digits.
“Does this Lake work for your government?”
Jonas shook his head. “Hell, no. He sells guns. I’d know if he were undercover.”.
“I think you are very stupid,” Nishin said.
“Fuck you,” Jonas spit out.
“Is there anything else you can tell me about this man Lake?”
“He’ll kick your ass,” Jonas said. “I hope you do run into him.”
“I already have,” Nishin said. “And I’m here. He’s not. Do you work for the government?” Nishin asked. “For your friends who protect you?”
“I got friends,” Jonas repeated. “They help me out, I help them out, but I don’t work for them. But you mess with me, they’ll mess with you.”
“Yes, so you’ve said, but unfortunately they are not here now to help you. And now is the important time for you, isn’t it?”
“Fuck you,” Jonas said, his hands covered in blood as he pressed down on his injured leg. “You’d better just get your ass out of here while you can.”
Nishin didn’t reply with words. He raised the muzzle of the shotgun slightly and fired.
“The hydroacoustic system was linked together and terminated at Fort Miley,” Harmon explained as she drove. “But they all answered to a central command that controlled the harbor defenses.”
“They were really worried about San Francisco being attacked?” Lake asked as they crossed the Bay Bridge. He noted the site of the gun battle from the other night showed little sign of it as they went past, other than some chips in the wall of the tunnel where bullets had struck.
The question put Harmon in her element as historian. “San Francisco was the most tempting target on the West Coast for the Japanese. After Pearl Harbor people here were very worried about getting attacked. No one knew what the Japanese had planned. You have to remember that in 1941 and early 1942 it seemed like the Japanese were invincible and everywhere. It was a very dark time. The list of Japanese successes was quite long: first Pearl Harbor; then Wake Island fell two days before Christmas; Hong Kong fell on Christmas Day; Singapore and seventy thousand men surrendered in February; the Philippines and Bataan; China; Burma; it went on and on.