The Samurai Inheritance (24 page)

‘Last I heard she was having a great time with a couple of aunts out in Perth and the kid was being treated like a princess. You just leave them to me and find that fella’s bonce and get straight back here.’

Jamie assured him he’d get to work the next day. ‘All I have is an address. I was under the impression that one of your people was going to meet us with more information.’

He heard Devlin grunt. ‘There’s been a change of plan,’ the Australian said. ‘We’ve had a little trouble in one of our Philippines operations and my man’s had to fly to Manila to sort it out. Turns out he didn’t have much to give you anyway. This Yoshitaki crowd are proving a harder nut to crack than the bloody Russians. Your major became a war hero, but when it was all over he disappeared into obscurity. Turns out it happened to a lot of prominent Japs. They couldn’t stand the dishonour of defeat, so they gave up public life. The last he’s heard of is in a short and not particularly revealing obituary after his death in ’fifty-five. We might have been able to squeeze a bit more out of the Tokyo cops if Bill had still been in town, but to be honest he wasn’t hopeful. The address is the only thing we have for the Yoshitaki family, and that could be out of date by as much as a decade.’

‘You’re not exactly raising my expectations.’

‘I’m just telling it like it is, son.’ There was a moment’s hesitation and Jamie had a feeling that, on the other end of the line, Devlin was smiling, and not in a nice way. ‘Maybe you’ll have to go an extra mile just to prove or disprove whether the head is in Tokyo.’

‘What do you mean by that, Mr Devlin?’ he said carefully.

‘Just that you have a reputation as a resourceful man, Jamie. From what I hear you had to cut a few corners when you were going after that Raphael painting. Maybe even crossed a line or two.’

‘The one thing I’ve learned, Mr Devlin, is that when you cross that line you have a tendency to also be putting your neck on a block. Maybe I was prepared to do that for a hundred million pounds’ worth of Old Master, but I’m not sure a smelly old shrunken head is worth the same risk, no matter what you’re prepared to pay for it.’

‘Well, that’s for you to decide, Jamie boy,’ there was an emphasis on the last two words and Devlin’s voice held a hint of something indefinable that might have been menace, ‘but when you’re making your decision just spare a thought for those two little ladies of yours.’

‘What is that supposed to mean, Devlin?’

‘Just what I say, Jamie boy. If you don’t come up with the goods over the next few days I have a feeling that Fiona and Lizzie are going to be a mite disappointed in you, and we don’t want that, do we?’

The phone went dead in Jamie’s hand and he sat for a moment tempted to throw the oblong of plastic against the wall. He wasn’t one hundred per cent certain what he’d just been told, but instinct told him the stakes had just got a lot higher than he’d bargained for.

‘Jamie?’

He looked up to find Magda in the doorway. ‘Something has changed,’ he tried to explain. ‘I have a feeling my client in Sydney doesn’t trust us. Maybe he didn’t trust me from the start. If I’m right he knows I went off the radar in Moscow. Possibly he knows about our Chinese visitors too. Suddenly he may not be the only player in the game. A man like Keith Devlin isn’t going to take that lying down. I’m pretty sure he just threatened Fiona and her daughter.’

‘Why would he do that?’ She sounded sceptical.

‘I don’t know,’ he admitted. ‘It’s as if what started as a game has suddenly turned much more serious. I took a look at the business pages in the paper earlier and Devlin Metal Resources shares are about as popular as the Black Death. There are rumours of an announcement, which is generally a bad sign.’ He went to the window and looked out over the skyline towards the distant mountains. ‘Remember what Berzarin said about almost going bust in the crash. What if Devlin is in the same position? What if this Bougainville deal isn’t about putting a jewel in the crown of his glittering business career, but survival? Devlin might be close to losing everything he’s worked for and the company that’s been in his family for three generations?’

When he turned she was staring at him with a frown of indecision. For a moment he thought she might be about to say something important, but eventually she just shrugged. ‘That might be enough to push him over the edge. But what can we do?’

Jamie picked up the map she’d brought from reception. ‘We can knock on the door of the Yoshitaki place first thing tomorrow morning and suggest that the late major’s relatives might want to send the head back to its homeland.’

She looked doubtful and he didn’t blame her. He had a distinct feeling Devlin was right. He was going to have to go the extra mile before the job was done. But if that’s what it took to keep Fiona and Lizzie safe he knew he wouldn’t hesitate.

XXVIII

The former home of Major Kojima Yoshitaki turned out to be in a fairly unremarkable part of Tokyo, with the usual high-rise apartment blocks, but more than its share of detached homes and several institutes and museums. The taxi driver negotiated his way through a series of narrow back streets and drew to a halt beside a blank seven-foot wall with a steel gate and entry-phone system. Beyond the gate stretched an area of extensive woodland, which
was
remarkable this close to the city centre. Jamie’s heart sank as he recognized the kind of security set-up favoured by rich men who had things to hide or people to keep away. It didn’t bode well for a warm welcome.

‘Ask him if this is the right address.’

Magda hit the driver with a quick-fire burst of Japanese and received a longer version in reply.

‘He says there’s no mistake. Apparently this would once have been an estate belonging to a
daimyo
, a Japanese lord. It looks as if the Yoshitakis have been important people around here for centuries. He’s asking if we want him to wait for us.’

‘Tell him no. I have a feeling the fewer witnesses we have the better.’ He saw her frown. ‘Anyway, we shouldn’t have too much trouble finding another cab around here.’

Jamie got out of the car and wandered nonchalantly across to the gate. Reinforced steel, with retractable supporting bollards behind. Heavy enough to stop anything but a proper tank. No doubt there’d be a surveillance system, which meant they were being watched.

‘What do you think?’ he asked Magda.

‘I’m hoping you’ve come up with something cleverer than Krasnoyarsk.’

‘Like all the great generals I intend to use the most effective weapon in my armoury,’ he said airily. ‘Actually, I was wondering if you might like to have a try this time.’

Her lips pursed and he braced himself for the expected backlash to this craven abdication of responsibility, but eventually she nodded. ‘Okay.’ She studied the gate in her turn until she spotted the almost invisible button on the left-hand pillar with a little mesh grill above it.

As she reached for it, a car parked fifty metres to their left suddenly growled into life and drew out into the roadway. They tensed as it inched its way towards them, and they found themselves the focus of the two hard-eyed young Japanese men. Jamie sensed they were memorizing every molecule of his features. As if that wasn’t proof enough, as the car drew level the man in the passenger seat raised a camera to the open window and the quick-fire click-click-click of the automatic shutter announced he was taking multiple images. When the photographer was satisfied he said something to the driver, the engine revved and the car sped off.

‘What was that all about?’ Magda wondered aloud.

Jamie watched the car disappear round a corner. ‘I’m not sure. The police, probably. They saw us mooching around and decided to take a look just in case we had larceny in mind.’ Unless, of course, they were watching the place for a specific reason. But what that reason might be, and why they should want pictures of visitors, was anybody’s guess. He was certain of only one thing: it stank to high heaven. He could see she didn’t believe him, but there was no point in speculating.

Magda stepped up and spoke into the microphone and there was a long pause before a male voice emerged from the speaker with a reply.

‘What did you say?’

‘Simple. I asked if this was the home of the Yoshitaki family and told him we’re interested in shrunken heads.’

‘And?’

‘It looks as if the feminine approach works.’ She tilted her head and gave him a superior look. ‘They want to know whether we’re buying or selling.’

‘You’re a genius.’ He grinned.

Before she could reply a mechanical whirr sounded as the bollards retracted and the massive steel gate slid open to reveal a tarmac road leading into the trees. For an instant Magda seemed reluctant to move, as if there was something momentous about the next step and it would take her over an invisible line. Jamie sensed her hesitation and wondered what caused it, but there was no going back now. He reached out to touch her hand. ‘Nothing to fear but fear itself, as a wise man once said. This is what we came for.’

The contact seemed to break the spell. She took a deep breath and they walked side by side through the gate and into the shadow of the trees.

‘I think our chariot awaits.’ As the gate closed behind them Magda pointed to an odd vehicle parked in a bay to their right. Painted green and gold, it looked like an over-sized golf buggy with six seats under a canvas roof, four wheels, but no engine or steering mechanism that they could see. ‘What do you think?’

‘I suppose it must be here for a reason,’ Jamie agreed.

They took the two front seats and waited, feeling slightly foolish until, without warning, it moved into gear with an electronic whirr. With a hiss of rubber tyres the buggy followed the road as it wound its way through the open woodland that Jamie pointed out on the map as an island of green in one of the most populated cities on the planet.

‘This must be one of the most valuable pieces of real estate in Tokyo,’ Magda broke the silence. ‘Most of these places would have been turned into parks.’

‘You have to hand it to old Yoshitaki,’ Jamie agreed, ‘somehow he managed to save all this while the rest of the city drowned in concrete. He clung on to his heritage through war and famine and financial disasters that brought ruin to millions. That’s evidence of not just money, but power.’

After another hundred metres they turned a corner and Magda said quietly, ‘Does this thing have a reverse gear?’

Jamie was thinking something similar, but it was too late to turn back now. He struggled to evaluate the building at the far end of the neatly maintained lawn. Long and low, the grey concrete structure reminded him of a Second World War bunker. Whoever built this house had security in mind. The massive frontage – he assumed this was the front – was made up of three storeys of overlapping layers of concrete, each thick enough to stop a rocket-propelled grenade, and with not a pane of glass in sight. It might have been a factory or a military installation with its aerials and satellite dishes, but two horses in a paddock on the far side of the lawn were evidence this was someone’s home.

The cart slid to a silent halt in front of the building and two oriental men in dark suits stepped out from a hidden guard house to meet them. Meet, but not greet. Not a word was spoken as they motioned Jamie and Magda from their seats and indicated they should raise their hands to be searched. Jamie complied without protest and the leaner of the two began to pat him down, but Magda spat a stream of Japanese at the man facing her. Built squat, low and solid as a brick outhouse, the most emotionless eyes she’d ever seen stared out from a flat, moon face and his only reply was to step back and fold his arms over his massive chest.

‘I think he’s trying to tell you that you’re not going anywhere until he searches you,’ Jamie pointed out.

‘And you think I’m going to let him?’ She glared.

‘Look at them. They’re professionals. All we are to them is a potential threat.’

‘I don’t want some Japanese pervert running his filthy hands all over me.’

‘Actually, he looks more Korean. And look at his left hand.’

The man stood patiently with his arms crossed, the fingers splayed out against the fabric of his jacket. ‘You mean he’s missing a finger?’ She smiled sweetly at her confronter. ‘With a face like his I’m surprised that’s all he’s missing.’

‘It’s a very specific injury,’ Jamie continued. ‘The top joint of the finger has been removed. I think he probably cut it off himself.’

Magda frowned. ‘Why would he do that?’

‘Because he’s Yakuza.’

Without another word she handed her bag to the thin guard and raised her arms above her head. As the stocky Korean approached her, she whispered something to him in Japanese. The man stared at her for a long moment before his face split into a grin. Three minutes later they were being escorted down a corridor of polished concrete under the unblinking red eye of a pair of security cameras.

‘What did you say to him?’ Jamie asked.

‘I told him that if his hands got out of place even once I’d add something else to his list of missing parts.’ She studied the corridor’s bare walls. ‘What really interests me is why a Japanese gangster would agree to see us?’

‘It has to be the head,’ Jamie said. ‘It confirms this house is connected to Major Kojima Yoshitaki and whoever now owns it is intrigued enough to open the doors of his citadel to us. The chiefs of the Yakuza crime clans like to think of themselves as civilized businessmen, regardless of the evidence. He obviously thinks he has nothing to lose by meeting us.’

‘You seem to know a lot about them for an art dealer.’

‘I’ve come across them a couple of times in Europe,’ he confessed, ‘though without really knowing who I was dealing with. The Yakuza is an international organization. They’re as happy trafficking stolen artworks as drugs or Korean sex slaves, so I had to learn a bit about them. On one level they run an incredibly sophisticated operation, a sort of global criminal octopus whose tentacles reach into every country and at all levels of society. On another they’re just a brutal gang of thugs, with almost medieval rules and traditions.’