[Thomas Caine #1] Tokyo Black (33 page)

“I don’t need you to protect me!” she shouted.

“No, but I need you alive to cover me!”

Caine charged forward up the tunnel, firing as he moved. The men turned and ran, heading away from them up the tunnel, towards the upper deck.

Caine darted to the outer curved edge of the glass tube. He looked down and saw the gut-wrenching drop yawn beneath his right side. He jogged forward at a rapid but measured pace.

Mariko quickly followed behind him, keeping to the inner edge of the tube. She held her gun at the ready, sweeping back and forth as they moved forward in tandem.

They reached the end of the Galleria tube. To their right, a large opening led to the upper observation deck, 450 meters above the ground. Soft, purple lighting slowly pulsed. The speakers overhead were silent. The only sounds they could hear were the muted screams behind them and the incessant patter of rain on the glass windows.

Caine and Mariko flanked the entrance to the upper deck and peered around the corner. A barrage of gunfire greeted them. To the left of the entrance, one of the fleeing Tokyo Black men had tipped over a display case of brochures. He was covering the tunnel exit.

Caine squeezed off a quick series of shots to return fire, then ducked back behind the entryway.

“The maintenance door is to the left!” Caine shouted. “The other one must have gone to the roof.”

Mariko looked over at him and nodded. She dropped to one knee, peered around the edge of the entrance, and opened fire. “We have to make sure those people back there get down safely!”

Caine fired another volley of shots towards the Tokyo Black man. His bullets exploded through the wood case and paper brochures. A confetti of debris exploded into the air.

He checked his watch. If Kenji was right, they were running out of time.

“Then we split up. I’ll take the roof. You cover me, and keep any other Tokyo Black men away from the people. Now that the elevators are stopped, the only way to get to them is through you.”

Mariko shook her head. “No, we do this together!”

“No time to argue. If anyone other than me comes down those stairs, shoot first!”

Caine leapt to his feet and sprinted through the entrance into the observation deck. To his right, he saw a grey door set into the wall with red Japanese letters across it. Underneath, in English, it said, “No Trespassing.”

To his left, a few terrified civilians lay on the floor, covering their heads and crying. The gunman must have kept them from heading for the elevators to use as potential hostages.

Caine charged towards the maintenance door. From the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of movement and knew the Tokyo Black man had popped up from his cover. The man was aiming, drawing a bead on Caine’s back as he ran towards the door. Caine didn’t look back. He reached the door and gave it a shove.

It was locked.

Behind him, more gunfire exploded. Bullets hissed through the air and thudded into the wall next to him, mere inches from his head.

Mariko leaned around the corner, firing wildly at the Tokyo Black gunman. He turned his attention away from Caine and returned fire.

Caine pointed his gun at the door lock and fired two quick shots. The lock assembly exploded into a mangled shard metal. He kicked the door open and hurled himself forward into darkness.

As he paused for breath, Caine’s eyes adjusted to the darkness. He was in a small concrete corridor. A door on his left led to several flights of metal stairs wrapping around the inner core of the tower.

He jogged up the stairs. The clanging of his footsteps echoed through the still air. After three flights, the stairs ended at another door. About twenty feet above, he could see the inner core of the tower. It narrowed and joined with the base of the antenna support structure. The door had to lead to the Galleria roof.

He recalled the view from the observation deck … the seemingly unending drop through banks of clouds and the tiny spires of the buildings below. He readied his pistol, took a deep breath, and slammed his body into the door.

As soon as the door cracked open, an immense wind whipped it into the side of the structure with a loud crash. Caine darted outside, hoping the harsh noise would muffle the sound of his arrival. The wind drove the cold rain into his face, like stinging needles of ice.

He braced his body against the wind and examined his surroundings. The roof was a flat, circular ring, like the observatory beneath it. A low chain fence ran around the outer perimeter, about fifteen feet from the center of the tower. Beyond the fence was a track, possibly for a motorized window washing cart or another maintenance vehicle.

The vastness of Tokyo stretched as far as his eyes could see. Without the glass between him and the impossibly high drop, he felt tiny and insignificant. His life was like a weak, flickering candle. A strong gust of wind could sweep him over the edge and snuff him out in a second.

The chain fence was nothing, just a minuscule barrier that stood between himself and a 1400-foot plunge into the echoing screams of death.

Above him, latticework supported the huge broadcast antenna, which towered several hundred yards overhead. He could not see the top of the antenna. It pierced the clouds and disappeared into their dark, rolling folds of grey.

Caine stalked around the center pillar of the tower. A man hunched over a small table came into view. A tarp strung from the lattice of the antenna formed a crude tent over the man, a barrier against the rain.

Caine stepped closer, his gun out and ready. He recognized the man as one of the two from the confrontation in the Galleria tunnel. He was Tokyo Black … but where were Kusaka and Bobu?

As he crept closer, he spotted the dead body of a security guard lying on the roof. A crimson bullet wound pierced the center of his forehead. His body was pushed up against large metal housing mounted on the track that ran around the roof. It was the size of a small utility shed and hung over the edge of the roof like a bird perched on a ledge.

Turning his attention back to the small table, Caine spotted the silver gleam of Kusaka’s hard drive sitting next to an open briefcase. Wires ran from the drive to electronics equipment housed in the case.

Kenji said Bernatto had modified the drone’s controls, that they could fit in a briefcase. This had to be it!  From this high up, the portable transmitter could maintain line of sight with the drone anywhere in the city. Caine cocked his pistol and stepped away from the tower base.

“Put your hands up!” he shouted over the wind and rain. “Move away from the briefcase! Do it now!”

The man jumped and spun around. His eyes were obscured by large, dark glasses. A small antenna pointed up from the glasses, near his temple.

The man ripped the visor off his face and reached behind his back. Caine fired without hesitation; a double tap of bullets exploded into the man’s chest. He rushed over seconds after the body hit the ground. He kicked the man’s pistol away, and it clattered under the fence and over the edge of the tower.

Ripping the glasses off the man’s face, he held them up to his eyes. He reeled as he suddenly found himself streaking through dark clouds at what seemed like a thousand miles per hour. He yanked the visor away from his face to regain his balance.

“What the hell…?” he muttered. Slowly he brought the visor back up to his face. Again he was thrust through the sky at rapid speed, piercing the rain and clouds like a jet-propelled arrow.

He turned his head left, and the point of view rotated to follow him. The clouds rushed by him sideways now, as if he were looking out the side window of a jet plane.

His body staggered as he adjusted to the strange sensation. Digital readings surrounded the central image, filling his peripheral vision. Air speed, altitude, pitch, yaw … all the information one would need to control a drone.

So that was how Bernatto had miniaturized the drone control package! He had virtualized it. It wouldn’t be as precise as an actual control booth, with real instruments. But for what Kusaka was planning, it didn’t have to be. All they had to do was guide the drone to its final destination. Gravity would do the rest.

Looking to his left, Caine saw a red wireframe control stick superimposed over the image. He reached out his hand, but it did nothing… The image he was seeing must be the drone’s forward camera. When he turned his head, the camera rotated. But the drone’s course was unaffected.

He looked around at the readouts blinking at the borders of his vision. One of them showed a small topographical map. Course headings rapidly blinked in and out as they adjusted. Caine looked forward again. The drone’s view was descending, lowering though the clouds.

He saw city streets come into view. Buildings rushed beneath him as if he were a giant predatory bird, skimming over the rooftops of the city, searching for prey.

The camera centered on the building up ahead. It was a dull grey slab with a helipad on its roof. A helicopter sat on the pad, its rotors idling. The fisheye view from the drone’s camera was distorted, but Caine could make out tiny figures walking towards the helicopter.

The building’s architecture was completely unremarkable, but Caine recognized it immediately. It was the American Embassy in Tokyo. United States soil, right in the heart of Tokyo.

The Secretary of State, the Chinese Foreign Minister, Japan’s Minster of Foreign Affairs … they were all meeting at the embassy to discuss the Senkaku Island dispute. And Kusaka was going to take them all out in one fell swoop, in what would look like a Chinese military strike.

The loss of life would be disastrous, and the repercussions could lead to war.

He reached for the digital control stick again, but it still had no effect. Tearing off the glasses, Caine examined the controls in the briefcase. Kenji had said the Skytree tower coordinates were pre-programmed into the drone. It would be guided to the final target from here. There had to be a way to order it back.

There!
He spotted a red button marked RECALL. He slammed the button, and the machine began to beep.

He held up the glasses again and saw the view of the embassy rotate away as the drone changed course. It was returning back to the tower, back to its programmed coordinates.

He was slipping the visor into his inner jacket pocket when he felt, rather than saw, a motion above him. A subtle shift in light, the rustle of clothes barely audible over the rainfall…. Whatever it was, he instinctively sidestepped and pivoted, bringing his gun hand up.

His quick reaction saved his life. A massive, shadowy form dropped to the ground, exactly where he had been standing. The falling body grazed his side, knocking him back a few feet.

Caine raised his pistol. The huge, dark shadow swung towards him, knocking the Beretta from his grip. A powerful arm slipped under his right elbow and yanked him forward. As he lost his balance, another arm scooped his right leg, lifting it upwards.

Within a fraction of a second, his entire body was lifted into the air and thrown backwards. He slammed down onto the roof. The impact radiated through his bruised, aching body like an electric shock. He grit his teeth and forced himself to roll backwards. He leapt up to a standing position.

Bobu Shimizu stood before him, blocking his access to the drone controls. Caine panted in the rain, plotting his next move. A single black eye, brimming with hate, glared back at him. The man was even larger than Caine had remembered. Naked from the waist up, his many scars and injuries painted a hideous tapestry across his body.

“Bobu Shimizu!” Caine shouted with a rueful smile. “I have to say, I like the new look. The face tattoo was a little off-putting.”

“Thomas Caine.” Bobu’s deep voice easily carried over the rushing wind. “I never knew your real name until now. But ever since our first encounter, I have dreamed of facing you again.”

“Really? Didn’t go so well for you the first time.”

“You are wrong. Everything went exactly as it should have. It was destiny. During my years in prison, I was cleansed by pain and fire, purged of my poisonous addiction. I found my purpose, a greater destiny than I ever could have imagined for myself as a two-bit gangster. I shall be the savior of Japan.

“And what of you? What have you done in the years since we first met? Hidden like a frightened child? Squandered your life in the shadows, watched as everything you believed in was proven a lie? All while carrying the mark of my bullet in your flesh. Now, once again you stand before me, and I have the privilege of facing you as my true self. I have become my destiny. There is nothing you can do to stop me.”

Caine rubbed the old bullet wound. It ached and stung with pain. He pushed it harder, and the pain grew. It flooded his senses and washed away all traces of fear and uncertainty.

“Destiny, huh?” he said, shouting over the rain. “We’ll see about that. Where’s your boss, Kusaka?”

Bobu shrugged, his enormous muscles rippling at even the most minimal movement.

“Most likely in his mansion, enjoying his plaything. I do not pretend to understand his obsession with that girl, but I am no stranger to weakness. Our greater purpose shall purify him, and he will be forgiven for his failings.”

Caine’s eyes blazed with anger. “We’ll have to agree to disagree on that.”

The massive man stepped forward. The rain dripped down his exposed skin. Trails of water traced the glistening, pocked expanse of his burned and mangled flesh.

“The drone’s already on its way back here,” Caine shouted. “You’ve missed your window. The dignitaries will be boarding the helicopter any minute.”

“Then I will strike them in the air. There will be plenty of time to locate them after I finish with you.”

Caine pushed his rain-soaked hair out of his eyes and pivoted his body sideways. He raised his hands in front of him, beckoning his opponent to begin the assault.

Bobu’s face twisted into a nightmarish snarl. The hideous scars that marked his face, the burned eye, and his massive frame made him seem more monster than man. And then, bellowing an angry roar, the monster charged forward.