Chapter One
Rain—the water falls slantways and batters against the dark buildings, trickles into the alleyways, spills into creeks that course on the crooks where the pavement lined with concrete. A metal side door of one of the buildings swings open and light floods into the alleyway. Gunshots sound from inside, and a man, blood staining his shoulder, stumbles on his way out, aims a pistol into the building and shoots before making his way to run. The metal door echoes behind him, and he scrambles toward the street. The street is empty, wet, bathed in the white light of lampposts. The man runs, his hand pressed against the wound on his shoulder where the spot of blood continues to spread and grow like an opening blossom. There are shouts behind him, and bullets zip-zip-zip behind him. The window of a car explodes, and the glass crunches underneath his shoes. Zip again, this time with a fleshy thud, and the man groans, falls to the ground. Blood seeps from the back of his thigh.
Footsteps near, growing louder and louder amid the hush of falling rain. The man groans. He does not look up at the faces behind him.
"This man, he is…?"
"Yes, a sneaky little mole isn't he?" Orihara replies. "This guy's been sending lots of messages and updates to some little old woman up in London who tells her to report to some place called 'T-branch.'"
The man tries to lift himself off the ground, but a heavy boot stomps the side of his face and slams him back against the concrete. The boot pushes harder into his face, and the man keeps still. The man grunts and sputters. "I thought secret agents were supposed to be good at remaining undercover."
"Well, I'm sure the British Secret Service has made its own share of blunders." Orihara replied.
"Unfortunately for this guy, it looks like the blunder's on him. I wonder how the British feel when their agents get their brains splattered all over the roads."
"Whoa, you don't mean to tell me you're going to kill a British secret agent, are you? His department isn't going to take this very lightly."
"You should hope not. Otherwise, how will you have fun?"
Orihara chuckled and slipped his hands into his pockets. "You got me there."
The agent sighed and closed his eyes. Gunshots, blood.