it a ransom note? One of Bonnie’s fingers as proof of life? Then his Secret Service training for how to recognize mail bombs took over. IS IT TICKING? Cain texted back.
WHAT? Tanaka asked.
PUT YOUR EAR TO IT—THE ONE YOU DON’T MIND GETTING BLOWN OFF. HEAR ANYTHING?
IT’S QUIET.
DOES IT HAVE MORE POSTAGE STAMPS THAN NECESSARY? Cain’s fingers were tiring from the texting. He preferred talking on the phone, but he couldn’t risk being heard talking in the bathroom—right in the den of the yakuza’s clubhouse.
I DON’T KNOW. NO POSTAGE STAMPS. ONLY SHIPPING LABEL. WAS SHIPPED OVERNIGHT—INTERNATIONALLY.
WHAT’S THE RETURN ADDRESS?
THAT IS SUSPICIOUS PART. HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS.
Cain exhaled with a huge sense of relief and grinned wide. The King risked his career. He had a change of heart and did the right thing after all.
?? Tanaka waited for a response.
IT’S OK. I KNOW HIM. NEED PACKAGE ASAP!
WANT ME TO GIVE TO UMIKO-SAN? Tanaka asked.
SHE’S OUT OF TOWN.
NO. SHE’S AT WORK.
WHAT? Cain wasn’t sure whether to feel worried or angry that Umiko hadn’t listened to him about leaving town.
CLOSED-DOOR MEETING WITH SATO-SAN FOR 1 HOUR.
Why would she be at work—in a private meeting with Sato? She knows the danger she’s in. She promised me she’d go straightaway to her parents in Osaka.
OPEN THE PACKAGE.
OK. About thirty seconds later Tanaka texted Cain back. LOTS OF ENGLISH DOCUMENTS.
IT’S IMPORTANT INFORMATION. LOOKING FOR CLUES TO HELP FIND BONNIE. NAMES OF BOATS, EXPORT COMPANIES, OR SHIPPING CONTAINERS.
OK. I WILL DO MY BEST.
I BELIEVE BONNIE WILL BE SHIPPED TO MIDDLE EAST AS SEX SLAVE.
Chapter 74
Champ Albright left the immaculate bathroom and walked to the temple. He sat on the tatami mat when the ceremony officially began. The Buddhist monk who was presiding over the wake kneeled in front of the coffin to chant a sutra. The coffin was open, and Hayabusa lay in eternal rest. The deceased yakuza member was dressed in a white kimono. His coffin was filled with flowers, and on top of his chest rested a shiny tanto—to protect him from evil spirits in the afterlife.
Damn! Champ thought. They should have chosen a closed casket. This dude had the shit beat out of him.
The immediate family, which was about twenty individuals, including several high-ranking yakuza members, approached the coffin one by one to honor their fallen brother. The head boss of the Yamamoto-gumi was a physically fit businessman in his sixties who controlled some of Tokyo’s most expensive real estate. He’d also invested heavily in Japan’s automotive industry as a way to expand his influence in other countries.
From his research, Champ knew that Yamamoto, Hayabusa’s grandfather, had been orphaned as a child when his parents and sister died in the blast from Little Boy, dropped from the Enola Gay on August 6, 1945. Their bodies were never found. Growing up in a poor orphanage in Hiroshima, young Yamamoto was recruited into the yakuza and became known as one of the most vengeful. For instance, when he learned that a real estate agent had cheated him out of 1 percent on a business deal, Yamamoto had killed him with a katana. Yamamoto served six years in prison, and when he was released, he climbed his way to the top and eventually took over the yakuza clan in Tokyo and Yokohama.
Champ watched Yamamoto open the incense bowl and grab a piece of incense. He put it in the burning bowl, placed his hands together at chest level, and bowed at a forty-five-degree angle. Each of the family members repeated this process until they had all performed this sacred ritual.
Before the other guests were afforded the opportunity to pay their respects to Hayabusa, Yamamoto turned toward the crowd and addressed them in Japanese.
“Hayabusa was my own flesh and blood. I raised my grandson as my own son. He learned the yakuza way, and he brought us great honor. He was destined to take over and carry on my legacy. His death will be avenged.”
Yamamoto looked toward a group of four teenage yakuza members, each holding a birdcage.
“Hai!” Yamamoto yelled with a quick head bow.
The yakuza opened the cages, and four falcons flapped their wings and took flight into the evening sky.
“We pay homage to Hayabusa’s spirit. He will be our eyes in the sky.”
Although four was an unlucky number in Japanese culture, Champ thought this made sense in a strange way. The number four, shi, also meant “death.” The yakuza would not forget the death of the oyabun’s grandson.
The ceremony concluded, and as Champ reached for his phone, the