average Japanese home’s living room. Glass cabinets stretched to the ceiling, displaying treasures of antique Japanese pottery and expensive bottles of alcohol from around the world. His heart pounded against his chest like a drum when he recognized the two men he saw talking to each other. One of them was Yamamoto.
Cain felt a gut-wrenching knot form in the pit of his stomach. Betrayal was the worst type of pain. I would have given my life for him, and he crossed me like this. He betrayed me and Bonnie. Koichi Sato was behind her kidnapping the whole time!
Chapter 78
Cain methodically scanned the grand room, searching for any other yakuza members he would have to fight. I can’t just go blasting in there, he thought. That’ll be certain suicide. Can’t rescue Bonnie if I’m dead. Self-preservation was one of the tenets the Secret Service taught at its academy in Maryland. Rookie agents thought they were issued bulletproof vests for their protection, but in reality, the point was merely to keep the agents alive long enough to protect the VIP until backup arrived.
Cain noticed a gruff-looking Japanese man in the corner of the room. A tattoo sprawled across his neck and covered his bald head. Cain leaned his face against the window to gain a better view and to size him up. He could tell from the man’s visible scars and how his suit looked—custom-tailored in order to accommodate his bulging biceps—that he was going to be a tough opponent. And then there was something odd about his ear—as if a piece of it was missing.
Movement in the corner of the room caught Cain’s eye. He pressed his face against the window even harder. Bonnie! His heart fluttered with joy but just as quickly sank when he realized she was tied to a chair in the far corner, her hands and feet bound by rope. Her nude body was bruised; there was no hiding that she had been punished for Cain’s actions.
Yamamoto shouted something in Japanese, and the bald guard walked toward the middle of the room and retrieved two swords from their traditional stands. He bowed and extended the swords with both hands. Yamamoto ceremonially received one, and then Sato received his. They unsheathed them; the razor-sharp blades reflected the overhead light.
Are they gonna kill Bonnie? Cain’s mind swarmed with emotion. He envisioned them slicing her head off with a single proficient swipe of the samurai sword. No! he reminded himself. She’s worth more alive to them than dead. The mere thought of her being forced into sexual slavery sickened him. He counted three men—Yamamoto, Sato, and the bald guard—plus Bonnie in the room. He readied himself to burst through the door and run into the room. He felt tunnel vision setting in, and he reminded himself to combat-breathe and continue to look around in order to make as many observations as possible. He inhaled and slowly exhaled in a calculated manner. He put his hand on the doorknob and began turning it when suddenly the yacht’s diesel engines roared to life. The motors whined as they struggled to break the rope and spin the propellers. The odor of burnt transmission fluid permeated the air. Black and gray smoke bellowed into the night sky and was carried away with the breeze.
Cain let go of the doorknob and hid himself in the shadows as two guards sprinted to inspect the engines. Each carried an Uzi and had it pointed toward the stars. Cain studied how the guards held and moved with their machine guns. He knew that most Japanese were unfamiliar with guns, especially since the law in 1965 that prohibited civilians from owning small arms. But the yakuza didn’t fear the law. And they owned the seaports—importing and exporting whatever black-market goods they desired.
Cain put the flare gun down and quickly and quietly grabbed the yacht’s aluminum gaff pole, which was attached to the wall. Cain expanded the telescopic pole and tightened the fasteners. He held the gaff just like a shinai—the bamboo staff he’d trained with during his kendo classes. He lowered his center of gravity and shuffled toward the taller of his targets. Cain thrust the shinai into the man’s midsection with such force that the fasteners couldn’t sustain the impact. The gaff collapsed but not without first propelling the gangster off the yacht and into the abyss.
The other man, who had been inspecting the engine, glanced up and was shocked to come face-to-face with the gaijin. He pointed