coverage of the Kennedy assassination in Dallas. Per your inquiry, that’s my third vice: the relentless pursuit of getting a Pulitzer.”
“You ain’t gonna earn one in this broke-ass casino. The battlefield is a better place.”
“Been there, done that.” Champ grabbed his pipe from his mouth. He looked around the parlor and leaned in toward Cain. “What I’m about to expose out here is going to make international headlines. Heads will roll! All the way to PACFLEET in Hawaii, and maybe even into the halls of the Pentagon.” Champ leaned back toward his machine and slapped the lever.
“Mr. Rose believed you’d be able to help me find Bonnie,” said Cain. “He obviously overexaggerated your abilities.”
That struck a nerve with the high-energy reporter. “You government functionaries are pretty dense at times.”
Cain felt the blood rush to his head as he clenched his hand and hammer-fisted Champ’s pachinko machine, cracking the glass and scaring Champ in the process.
The noisy casino went silent for a moment while all the patrons stared at Cain.
“They’re going to make you pay for that,” Champ said nervously.
“My family already has,” Cain replied. He stood and yelled, “You’re a waste of my time. I’m outta here.”
“Wait!” Champ grabbed Cain’s arm and tried to pull him to sit back down, but Cain was too strong to be budged by Champ. “I’ll help you.”
“So far I’ve gotten riddles and a history of your family tree, but no help.”
“You wanna find the animals who kidnapped your sister? I know where to look.”
Cain’s ears perked up. “Where?”
“What makes the yakuza different from the everyday Japanese person?”
Cain rolled his eyes in frustration and then thought for just a second. “They commit crimes.”
“Physically, I mean.”
Cain thought again. “They have tattoos.”
“Exactly! Tattoos are taboo here in Japanese culture. You don’t see any advertised around here. But who does get tattoos on the island?”
“The American military,” Cain replied. It was as if a light bulb had turned on.
“You’re batting two for two!” Champ removed his cocktail from the napkin it had been resting on. He pulled a pen from his vest’s inner pocket and started scribbling something on the napkin. “This is the name of a tattoo place I’d check out if I were you. It’s here in Yokosuka. It’s”—he lifted his hands and used air quotes—“‘rumored to be frequented by yakuza members.’” Champ put his drink down. “A rogue American, with nothing to lose and disrupting the wa in the process, will get the heat off my investigation into the Seventh Fleet. I’ll use that to my advantage.”
“Let’s get two things straight,” Cain fired back. “One: I’m not interested in your Seventh Fleet investigation. And riddle me this: what’s thicker than water?”
“Blood?” Champ answered hesitantly.
“Good. You’re batting one for one,” Cain responded. “Two: I have everything to lose.” He grabbed the napkin from Champ and headed for the exit.
“You’re welcome,” Champ shouted, and then, under his breath as he returned to his pachinko machine, “Unless they kill you tonight.”
Chapter 66
Cain left the pachinko parlor and marched toward the tattoo shop, Dragon’s Ink. He referenced Champ’s scribbled directions on the napkin. That’s convenient, he thought as he saw that he’d parked Umiko’s scooter right in front of the building before he had met with Chief Alvarez earlier that day.
Cain looked skyward. The building appeared to be only about three stories high, and it wasn’t that wide. That type of construction was common in Japan because of the limited space. He pulled on the glass door and entered the tiny lobby. A directory was on the wall. Dragon’s Ink was listed as the business on the third floor.
He ascended a narrow stairway. Each floor of the complex was occupied by only one door that led to the single business on that level.
With each step, Cain’s legs moved faster and his heart beat harder. It felt as though an invisible magnet was pulling him. He reached the third floor and saw the only door. Elaborate stickers and artwork covered its entire surface. In the center was wording in both English and Japanese. The English said DRAGON’S INK, and below that was smaller text that said GI-FRIENDLY.
“Good,” Cain muttered under his breath, “because I’m coming in.” He took a deep breath and exhaled. He used the crook of his elbow to wipe the sweat from his forehead. A popular Japanese-model doorbell, which also had a video camera and a two-way audio intercom system, was next to the doorknob.
Cain tried the door but it was locked. He rang the buzzer and