Chapter 10: The Cowboy
After losing their first and greatest hope for quickly finding the Satori, each of the refugees, including the four SWA operatives, were seized by a tireless fervor and worked without reprieve in order to continue their war. At times it felt as if they were all just marching closer to danger and doom, but everyone knew that they had little choice but to continue forward, regardless of what lay ahead.
Osamu and Rio, for example, went out frequently and would return hours later with bags full of money. No explanations were given and no questions were asked. Meanwhile, Jean, Alessandro and their respective cyborgs made trips into the city in search of the necessary supplies. The computer equipment was their top priority; within two days they had set Nana up with an adequate system. She immediately immersed herself day and night in the net, probing chat rooms and cautiously exchanging rumors about the Satori with conspiracy-theorists and paranoid shut-ins (Nana and Nobu referred to the latter as "hikikomori"). Most of the information they managed to dig up was suspect but they couldn't afford to dismiss everything and risk throwing away valuable knowledge.
With a working internet connection and a steady source of data, Jean and Alessandro next turned their focus toward collecting surveillance equipment. Binoculars were simple to find, as were earpieces to help the operatives keep in touch in the field, but remote listening devices were a bit more challenging. Thankfully, Masaru was able to modify some stolen cell phones to serve the purpose of conventional bugs. With this done, all that was left to collect were the weapons, a task more easily said than done…
Masaru led Jean, Alessandro, Rico, and Petrushka (all properly adorned with wigs and painted with makeup) through a winding labyrinth of back-alleys and semi-abandoned buildings in the heart of Yokohama, where outlaws and vagabonds gathered in order to find warmth and company. Surprisingly, the group of five attracted no more attention from the scruffy inhabitants of the streets than a rat or insect would. This, however, was the only indication that they were going in the right direction. Jean and Alessandro only continued to follow Masaru because they trusted his experience as a former assassin and collector of illegal firearms.
Because Japanese gun control laws were so strict, the refugees could not simply find a gun shop to break into and clean out the way they did with local pharmacies. They also could not go through the long, intensive process of applying for the legal possession of hunting shotguns. Because of this, everyone agreed early on that the best way to gain possession of the necessary firearms was to circumvent the system by visiting less-than-legal firearms salesmen. Thankfully, as Yokohama was a port city, Masaru knew of a few Filipino pirates and American smugglers who were more than happy to stop by and regularly open shop to give fellow criminals access to their fatal goods.
The process of finding these pirates and smugglers, though, was itself only slightly less arduous than going through the process of legally obtaining a license. Understandably, the merchants wished to keep themselves and their wares difficult to find. Predictably, they took into account the difficulties of concealing their establishments when writing their price tags (though they would never admit this and would instead usually attribute the inflated prices to the exaggerated quality of the weapons). For this reason, Masaru and his four companions each toted small briefcases filled with money; everyone was free to make their own purchases, but if it became necessary to pool their funds together, they would still be able to do so.
The group stopped outside of a rundown building which could have matched the description of any one of a hundred other buildings in Yokohama. No lights shone from within and at first glance the building (which once served as an office complex) looked to be abandoned. However, a well-hidden flight of stairs at the rear of the building descended into the lower levels and at the base of the stairs stood an old, rusty metal door. Faint lights danced underneath the crack of the door like the light of a paper lantern. Masaru turned to his followers, raised his eyebrows inquisitively, and asked, "Are you ready?"
Alessandro and Petrushka nodded silently, whereas Jean and Rico merely remained silent. After this, all five began their descent. Upon reaching the door, Masaru knocked several times. The metal clanged at the touch of his knuckles like an empty oil drum. There was a pause. While Masaru appeared calm and relaxed, the SWA operatives tensed up, not quite sure what to expect.
Finally, after a full, silent minute, the door opened a crack while emitting a rasping squeak. Through the crack, a rough, unshaven, suspicious face peered at the group waiting outside. Masaru calmly opened his briefcase, making sure not to startle the observer with any sudden movements, and revealed the contents to the man. Jean, Rico, Sandro and Petra followed suit, and almost immediately the door guard stepped aside and allowed the five wealthy visitors to pass through into the black market.
To the four Italians, the sights that greeted them beyond the iron door were unfamiliar and almost overwhelming. The entire first basement level had been gutted out and filled with stalls manned by dozens of merchants bellowing and advertising their goods to countless passersby. At first, the setup looked simply like an underground market where one would find cheap souvenirs and brand-named knockoffs. Upon closer inspection, one found that, first of all, nothing in the market was any cheaper than 400,000 yen. Second, just as nothing was cheap, there was also nothing legal for sale.
"Looks like there'll always be a way around the law," Alessandro noted facetiously as his mind processed the trading floor on which drugs, weapons, and even people were being bought and sold.
"Let's take some time to look around," Jean suggested, "And meet back here in twenty minutes."
The others agreed and separated into three groups; Masaru went alone while Sandro and Jean took their respective cyborgs along with them. As they browsed the stalls, each noted the variations of quality and sophistication among the smugglers. Some sold "bargain-priced weapons" which had obviously been used on previous occasions and been left in poorly-maintained conditions. Others were in the business of unique weaponry. Toy pistols converted into two-shot sidearms, instrument cases which stored weapons and doubled as firearms themselves, and blades disguised as a variety of household items were among the list of odd wares. Finally, in the back of the market and watched over by heavily-armed guards was a group of covered stalls wherein the seasoned smugglers and gun runners offered military grade weaponry fresh off the assembly line. Unfortunately, the quality of the virgin guns also contributed to their prices.
Jean examined a SIG Sauer carbine priced at 2,500,000 yen (the American stall owner and three assault-rifle toting pirates kept him under close watch). He had about 15,000,000 yen stuffed inside of his small case. Not a very reasonable price, Jean thought to himself, But it's affordable for us. We wouldn't have been able to move too many guns onto the street, anyway. Satisfied with the rifle, he also picked out a Benelli shotgun, three sidearms, and four combat knives.
As he approached the stall owner with his purchases, Jean noticed the guards behind the counter move their fingers from the trigger guards to the triggers. He laid each of the guns out on the table, at which point the owner gave a low whistle and an ivory-white toothy smile. "Not many people walk outta here armed like this," the stall owner remarked with a faint drawl, "Why, I'm tempted to give you a discount for buying in bulk!" He threw his head back and laughed heartily, his broad shoulders shook with his hard, wide belly.
Jean didn't react to this, but instead turned his head to see Rico shouldering a Russian VKS sniper rifle, staring down the sights and feeling the weight of the weapon in her hands. He then turned back to the stall owner, who was grinning expectantly. "How about we throw in that sniper rifle for free and call it a night instead?" Jean offered, straight-faced and business-like.
There was a noticeable reduction in the American's grin and while he still kept up a slight smirk, his eyes locked unwaveringly onto Jean's. There was a slight moment of silence as both men sized each other up and then, without any of his previous warmth and amicability, the American said, "You really mean business, don'tcha?" When Jean didn't answer, the stall owner continued, "'Round here people take offense if they think they're bein' taken for a ride." From the corners of Jean's eyes he could see the guards on both of his sides tense up.
"But," the stall owner said suddenly, his good humor returning, "We're both gaijin here, my friend. So maybe we ain't from the same corners of the world. When a man comes across somebody just as lost in a foreign land as they are, ya can't help but feel a little closer to 'em, y'know? I can tell you're a straight shootin', no-nonsense man and I respect that. If you'll go half price on the rifle, then you've got yourself a deal." He reached his hand out and chuckled some more. Jean hesitated for a second before he took the hand and shook it firmly.
"Name's Robert, by the way," the American said jovially, "But my friends call me Bobby."
"Jean," Jean responded without reciprocal emotion.
"Where're ya from, John? Germany?"
Ignoring Robert's slight mispronunciation, Jean lied, "France."
"Not much of a talker, are ya?" Robert laughed, "Still, ya don't sound like much of a Frenchman to me, John."
"My mother was from Spain."
Robert nodded thoughtfully, but fully satisfied with the excuses. "Well," he said "Looks like everything's in order. I'll throw in a little ammunition for you, free of charge." He then proceeded to stuff the weapons and several boxes of ammunition into a large luggage carrier, zipping it up and pushing it across the counter for his customer to take a hold of.
Jean took the bag and made for the exit of the stall with Rico in tow when Robert stopped them. "Y'know," he said, as if just remembering something at the last minute, "Seems like this little hive of a city has been buzzing a little more than usual. Some rumors about a group of European agents going up against the infamous Satori've been floating around. You know about the Satori, John?"
The Fratello remained silent. Rico stared at Robert curiously but Jean didn't so much as give him a backward glance. Robert continued slyly, "Anyway, they say some of these European agents are kids. Now ain't that just the craziest thing you ever heard?"
After a pause, Jean finally turned and responded simply, "The world's an odd place these days."
Robert nodded vaguely and looked the Fratello up and down before asking, "This your daughter, John?" He made a little gesture with his chin toward Rico who was still standing and staring.
"Sister," Jean replied with a steely growl. He felt an ambush coming on…
But it never came. Instead, Robert took a small card from his pocket and offered it to his customer. "My business card," Robert explained, "I'll be in Yokohama for a few weeks. Call me up if ya ever need to spend some cash, or if you need help with…something."
Jean got the message and took the card with only slight hesitation, but continued to remain aloof. "We won't be here long," he continued to lie, "I was just hired by the local yakuza to do some wetwork. I'll be heading back to France afterwards."
Robert whistled and with genuine curiosity asked, "The yakuza, huh? Which family are we talking about here?"
Without an answer, Jean faltered for the first time in the confrontation. Seeing this, Robert laughed loudly, good-naturedly and advised, "Lemme warn ya right now. I can guarantee any yakuza you run across won't approve of anyone going after their favorite assassin group."
"I'll keep that in mind," Jean responded without a hint of gratitude in his voice, "Thanks for the hardware." With this he left, a bit shaken but still composed. It wasn't often that Jean was taken off-guard, but Robert managed to do it by skillfully hiding the true depth of his intelligence. Because of this, Jean decided that if his offer was genuine, then the American arms dealer would make a valuable ally. However, with Robert's questionable credibility and motives, Jean would have to keep him at arm's length until he could get a clearer picture of the man.
Suddenly, Jean was snapped out of his reverie when Alessandro, Petrushka, and Masaru approached him. Like Jean, each was carrying weapons concealed in luggage carriers. "Are you done?" Alessandro asked.
"Yes," Jean answered. He decided not to mention Robert to them. Not yet, at least.
"Good," Sandro said, nodding, "It looks like we've got enough firepower for everyone back home. Let's get going then."
The reunited group of five headed towards the exit of the black market with their purchases. The energy of the trading floor hadn't changed. The crowd was still buzzing, customers were still browsing the wares of the vendors, and the vendors themselves were still shouting and hawking. However, Masaru slowed down and commented ominously, "I sense a change in the air. Something is wrong."
The SWA handlers looked around suspiciously. Surely enough, they caught several people staring at them. Upon being spotted, these people immediately averted their eyes and melted into the crowd. "We need to get out of here," Jean growled, "Now."
The group sped up, tightening their ranks and pushing people out of their way. Their hands remained at the ready, prepared to snatch a knife or gun out of an attacker's hands. It seemed as if it was only by the grace of God that they managed to reach the exit without being assaulted. The doorman let them out into the cold November night.
The three men and two girls surveyed the exterior of the abandoned office building and the equally abandoned street. They were greeted by the murmur of the wind. Nothing more.
Petrushka sighed in relief. "Let's get moving," she suggested nervously, "I don't like being out here."
The rest of the group agreed implicitly and started the long walk back home. Little did they know, however, that as soon as they stepped onto the street they had entered the crosshairs of the Satori…