I ran away from home when I was eleven because of my father, he wasn't a terrible man but, he had my life picked out for me and I was afraid of what he had in store. At the time he was a wealthy businessman, he owned two companies, one that made shoes and the other manufactured a special kind of distiller that made fermenting alcohol much faster and more efficient. From a young age he tried to groom me to take over both businesses but, I was interested, going around and barking orders seemed fine but, I wanted to live a little first.
At the time I would have called it liberating myself but, looking back on it I was being stupid. I had no more than a little bit of money in my pocket but, I ran away anyway. It didn't take a long time for me to run out of that money, I began stealing food for a couple of months before I got a series of odd jobs. Taking packages here and there, delivering messages, until eventually I got into working at a mechanics shop, I help keep it clean but, eventually I got to work on the cars and that started everything really.
The man who took me in was a kind man, he reminded me of my mother's brother, I took to him his name was Peter Stiggaliani, every one called him 'Guy' though.
"Kazi," Guy called to me one day while I was fixing one of his cars. "How come you're always here?" He asked me, I felt embarrassed, I didn't have anywhere to go, Guy was paying me a good amount of money to work for him, he knew that I was homeless but, we had never really talked about it. I was going on twelve so, it must have been odd having me work there. At night I would sleep in one of the cars, Peter would always come in early with breakfast. He would pretend he woke too early to go to work but, I knew he was coming in because he knew I was there. I know, it sounds odd, why didn't he just take me in? Or find someone who could? I don't know for sure but, I figured it's because he knew I ran away and I didn't want to be found and my father was relentless, the moment I moved into a house someone would know and he would come find me. In the long run it worked out but, I remember crying at night in the cars. I didn't want to live like this but, even then, I was too proud to go back. Anyway…
"I need the money" I answered him back, I had oil all over me, I wasn't the best working on the cars but, I was the messiest, the other guys would tease me about it but, I liked the oil, I had gotten used to it. It made me feel a part of the work I was doing despite the fact that sometimes it wasn't the best.
Guy had a soft-spot for me, he wanted me to work somewhere else because he didn't really think his shop was the best place but, I always dreaded the day he would ask me to leave.
"You're not going to make any money like this." He told me; I stood up and I could feel I was about to cry. "Don't look at me that way" He demanded of me but, I couldn't help it, Guy was the only person I felt like I could trust.
"I don't want to leave." I told him but, he only smiled and hugged me and gripped my arms.
"You don't have to leave but, I think you should look into this new job, it pays more and there will be more boys your age there." Guy suggested, I knew that was important. My being, clearly, not Italian caused a couple of issues for me. Most of the people I worked for were very open about their prejudice against me. Most assumed I was from the middle east like Pakistan or Saudi Arabia, they didn't know much to tell the difference between the way people from those regions look in comparison to each other and to me. The other fear was that I was a practicing Muslim, I was too young to do anything but, the fear was still there And in all fairness I was interested in Islam but, I was too preoccupied with trying to eat, anyway…
Guy handed me a poster that talked about stock car races in a raceway not too far from the shop, in face some of the car's owners were listed on the flyer as racers.
"They're hiring a few good boys to help out with maintenance and some janitorial work at the raceway," Guy explained. "Now, I know some of the guys down at the track and I may be able to give a good word for you if you're interested." Guy went on.
At the time I didn't know a lot about stock car racing but, I knew all the boys my age were into it and congregated at the racetracks to watch the races, I also knew my father was so detached from reality that he'd never know what the kids were into, so going there would keep him away from me effectively. I took Guy's offer and the next day he bought me a nice suit and we went down to the racetrack together.
I was surprised to see how many kids showed up, there had to be over two-hundred boys there with their fathers and there was Guy and myself, as mixed matched as could be. It was about ninety degrees outside, no one else had a suit on and I was so…brown compared to the rest of them. I stuck out like a sore thumb but, guy stood right next to me without flinching the whole time. The other boys watched me cautiously and the other fathers watched Guy as if he had brought in some type of defective to the racetrack or worse a girl!
That's the way it was back then though, things have cleared up a lot more in terms of racism and sexism but, I was there then so I had to make due.
I wasn't aware there were going to be try-outs that day, they would take about twenty boys at a time and line them up with cars rigged with issues and they had five minutes to diagnose the problem, the two boys to diagnose the most problems the quickest moved on as well as some personal question and physical test. I was never very big but, I wasn't tiny either but, a lot of the other boys looked like wrestlers and boxers so I didn't think I stood a chance. To my luck though very few of them knew anything, of any real substance, about cars, the diagnosis were more than easy for me, common problems I saw in the shop every day.
The interview was the hardest part but, the interviewer was kind to me, my age seemed to be the biggest problem, they kept suggesting that I looked too young to be of the legal age to work there. I was ready to give up at that point but, apparently Guy wasn't he told them I was Fifteen and could produce documents proving it. They didn't seem to really buy it but, they were nice enough to hire me on the provisional basis that I provide those papers.
Naturally I thought it was over but, Guy was so excited about everything. He told me he was going to have papers drawn up and then made me swear that I wouldn't tell anyone and that I would never lie the way he did to anyone and I agreed.
I started working at the track about a week later with three other boys, at first it was odd but, after a little while they took to me and I to them. Guy came everyday and brought me lunch and dinner, I slept in cars still but, I had money in my pocket and often times I would sleep over my new friends' houses.
They were a rowdy bunch, they were all sixteen so, they were interested in the new music, the racers and of course sex. I wasn't exactly at that level yet but, I listened to them and they took care of me like I was there little brother. They also got over their jealousy and respected me for my work on the cars, I taught them things here and there and it made their jobs easier. Eventually the racers took to us too, the youngest of the racer's was only eighteen, his name was Francesco.
Francesco was a great racer but, was more famous for his looks. He was a beautiful young man, when he raced women came to the racetrack to catch a glimpse of him. He was the closest of anyone I knew to look like me. His skin was light brown, like an olive. His parents were Italian but, his somewhere down the line he had some French Algerian ties. His eyes were dark green, tall, wavy black hair that came down to his shoulders. I remember him like it as yesterday because even the boys I worked with commented on his looks. They complained about wanting to look like him so they could woo the pretty girl in town or convince one of the others mother's to feed them whenever they wanted.
Francesco and I were friends and I was also friends with his father James, they looked after me and became good friends with Guy, all together they became a lot like a new family. Francesco like my older brother with James and Guy like my two fathers!
Eventually the other boys and I were allowed to close up the track at night, which wasn't the best idea because within weeks of getting the promotion the other boys were driving the cars around the track for an hour or two, pretending to be Francesco and saying lewd things to imaginary women. They teased me for never getting into a car and called me a baby and for a couple of weeks I didn't let it bother me but, peer pressure got to me and I eventually got into a car. I didn't do it because I wanted to, I did it because I felt like I had to, so it was my shock when I got into the car and it smelled like Francesco! I didn't want to drive any car but, I really didn't want to drive his car, the other boys rationalized that they were old enough to drive anyway so it was good practice but, they didn't know I was younger than them.
But I was already in the car and the only thing worse than not racing at all would have been to have gotten in the car and then jump out. I started the car and the engine scared me, it was much louder being inside the car than outside and before I knew it I was driving. I went around the track four or five times, screaming manically at the top of my lungs. I will admit it felt good, the combination of fear and achievement, I felt like I was invincible but, that changed quickly when I tried to stop. The brakes weren't working at capacity, they slowed the car down but, not quick enough, I had to keep going around the track to prevent crashing into the wall and then the brakes gave out. The car was still in control but, I had no way of slowing down, other than releasing the accelerator to keep my turns safe. I knew it wouldn't work for long to keep driving and that I had to try to stop the car somehow if I wanted to get out alive, so I took the chance and fishtailed the car, slamming on the brakes. The car spun about one-hundred ninety degrees and the back of the car hit the wall. I ended up cutting the very top of my forehead but, I was alright.
When I got out of the car none of the boys were at the car to meet me but, James was. Immediately he scolded me for driving the car, then asked if I was ok. I told him I hurt my head to which he replied 'Good', the pain would serve as a reminder to not do it again but, then he asked me where I had learned to drive that way, I said:
"I didn't drive, I crashed." He smirked at me.
"You saved your own life," he answered. "That fishtail was a risky move but, you made it work."
"I wrecked your car." I responded.
"It was already flawed," James answered. "I decided to park it at the track to have it repaired for brake problems. I'll talk to Guy, after he learns what you did to it I'm sure he'll compensate me with a overhaul." James continued.
"I'm going to be in so much trouble." I pouted.
"Yes, you and your friends," He turned to the other boys who were still at the starting point fifty feet away, they ducked down when James' gaze turned to them. "But, I think you ought to know, what you did on this track was nothing short of amazing, I want you to come home with me and meet with Francesco tonight." James commanded.
"For what?" I asked but, James only gave me a stern look and sent me on my way to pick up my things and get ready to leave.
The next day I started training to be an official stock car racer, James told Francesco about my maneuver and he agreed to show me the ropes in actual driving and not crashing. The other boys were more shocked than I was and Guy was more shocked than they were but, it fit into my schedule and I had the chance of being sponsored and making more money if I entered races.
I didn't think much of it at first but, spending time with Francesco was enlightening. He told me that I was a natural and couldn't believe how fast I was picking up racing. Within a year he deemed that I was totally ready to enter high stakes tournaments. So he retired at nineteen and got married to a beautiful woman and passed his car onto me.
In fact in my first race I was sponsored by James and Francesco, I lost but, I came in third which was the youngest person to place third in their first race. Everyone was proud of me and my friends began to idolize me a bit. Guy eventually told James the truth about my age and the two kept the secret and went to great lengths to keep my secret.
Well eventually I began to do very well, they called me a prodigy and all this nonsense. I began winning races quite frequently, this caught the eye of some major sponsors. By the time I turned fourteen in reality and eighteen in my lie I was the most successful stock car racer in the region. I was making more money than I could spend and I, finally, got myself a little flat near Guy.
Unfortunately that's when it all started to fall apart, apparently my winning caught the eye of some not-so-friendly people. After I won an international race on the behalf of Italy, I started receiving threats, Guy and James told me not to think about it but, I could tell it was bothering them. Apparently some people weren't happy with a Middle Eastern looking kid representing la partia Italia, I didn't find all of this out until it was too late but, the mob had a racer who was beaten out of the position for Italy's racer by me, subsequently they lost a lot of potential money.
When I went to participate in my next race, I found my car wrecked and spray-painted with the words "Go Home Arab" over the side, my friends said they didn't see who did it but, I knew they had. The look in their eyes, I'd never seen them so terrified before, I was so mad though. I said things to them I regret now, they were just protecting themselves.
I rushed back to Guy to tell him what had happened but, when I got back to the shop it was wrecked. It didn't take long until I found him, dead in his office. On his desk there was a hand written note that once again suggested I'd "Go Home". I was so scared, I wasn't sure what to do but, I called Francesco and told him what happened and he raced over. He picked me up and I cried the entire trip, he took me to James' house.
We sat there with Francesco's wife and mother and discussed what we would do. I suggested that I had to leave Italy but, they forbade it, they all insisted there were ways around the Mafia and they would pursue every possible angle.
I didn't believe them, I knew that I was putting them all in danger and I was still in shock over Guy's murder. I knew they would go after James and the family next, so I ran away, again. I took Francesco's car and I sat in it for an hour deciding if I should leave Italy or actually go home to my real father and seek out his help. If there was one thing he was good at, it was intimidation. But sitting in the car I knew I couldn't risk hurting James or Francesco. So I turned the car on and I drove back to Guy's shop picked up all my forged papers and then out of town and out of Italy. I drove to France and outside of the country I crashed the car into a ditch in an effort to fake my own death. I spent a little time in France, where I did more odd jobs, some I'm not very proud of. I stayed in France for about 6 months and made enough money to fly to Romania, where I did the same thing for a few months and made more money, I didn't last long there but, when I found myself in Syria I got my first driving job for popular politician. Word got around I was loyal and cheap and I've been driving people that way for the last couple of years.
I never could find any country I was comfortable being in, even in the Middle Eastern states I found myself feeling strange, not to mention that by the time I got to them I had given up on Islam totally, I wasn't a good Muslim and I was too conformed by Italy to really be of much use. I often found myself running from people in those countries but, on the opposite end of that, those Middle Eastern countries is where I got the majority of my contacts. I didn't ever fly out of those countries, instead I gradually moved over from country to country and eventually I ended up here in China.
"That's an interesting story" Heihachi smiled and nodded when Kazi finished his story. Kazi shrugged and wiped his mouth with a napkin.
"It's not that amazing." He modestly admitted.
"I suppose in all those years driving people around you've learned a few tricks." Heihachi surmised.
"Yeah, here and there," Kazi admitted. "I can hold my own."
Heihachi thought for a moment, he was liking this young man and he seemed trustworthy at the very worst when He returned to Japan he'd never see the kid again and if he ran off, how hard would it be to find a Bangladeshi/Italian kid wandering around China?
"I'll be honest with you," Heihachi began. "Someone's been trying to kill me for a couple of years and just last night I obtained some bank statements for a phony company that has been funding the assassins."
"Ok." Kazi sat up interested.
"If I could make a connection to these bank statements and one person, I could narrow down who the culprit is." Heihachi explained.
"But, you can't make any sense of the bank statements?" Kazi asked.
"Exactly." Heihachi agreed. "I've seen a lot of these kinds of statements but, I've never seen anything as hectic as these." He reached into his coat and picked out the papers and handed them to Kazi, who looked over them briefly.
"When I was in Paris I used to falsify bank statements for politicians who patronized a brothel and my time in Saudi Arabia was filled with this type of work," Kazi cleared his throat. "Can I take these home and if I see anything interesting I'll let you know?" Kazi asked, Heihachi nodded, he felt silly for trusting this boy so much but…
"Sure, I'm in China for a week and you're my driver so I'll be seeing you every day," it was a bit of a threat but, Kazi laughed it off, it made sense for Heihachi to not completely trust him.
"Great," He smiled at Heihachi. "Well do you want to go to your meetings?" Kazi asked; Heihachi shook his head and stood up.
"No," Heihachi answered. "Have the day off, take some time to calm yourself after this treacherous day, I'll see you in the morning." Heihachi ordered; Kazi smiled.
"I can't thank you enough, Mr. Mishima." Kazi looked down shyly.
"You already have." And with that Heihachi paid his waiter in a small stack of bills and left.
The next day Heihachi was happy to see Kazi hadn't fled with the bank statements and was picking him up from his hotel. Inside the car they greeted each other and Kazi was dressed in a uniform.
"I wasn't aware you had to wear those kind of uniforms for this job," Heihachi said. "You weren't wearing it yesterday."
"I know," Kazi looked into the rearview mirror when speaking to Heihachi. "It's because I literally got hired at that agency an hour before I had to pick you up. I wasn't very ready."
"Oh well, I guess that makes our meeting more fateful." Heihachi laughed.
"Oh that reminds me," Kazi opened the glove compartment and pulled out the papers Heihachi had given to him and passed them back to Heihachi. "I looked over those papers and I have to say they're pretty clever."
"How so?" Heihachi asked.
"Well, the figures are all made up, first of all," Kazi started. "You can by their frequency but, that's not the big point. They're all payments from banks to one person as something like a loan."
"Any idea who?" Heihachi asked; Kazi nodded as he turned a corner.
"Yes," Kazi stated. "There's an old trick used when banks are illegally giving money to one person for unapproved loans. To keep the payments from looking like a pay off to a person they create a fake network, to which they send the money to and then it's dispersed to the other branches but, really it goes to some guy in the shadows. Some banks do more than one of these, especially if they're put under pressure and to make sure they keep up with who gets what they inject the initials of the person they're working for into the reports." Kazi cleared his throat. "you'll see I've highlighted every time the letters T and H are used next to one another in the reports," He paused as Heihachi looked through the papers. "Sixty-Five times."
"So you're saying whoever is behind this, their initials are probably T and H?" Heihachi asked, Kazi nodded.
"It's more than likely," Kazi started. "Who do you know with those initials?" Kazi asked. Heihachi thought for a long moment.
"I don't know," Heihachi admitted. "I'm sure I've met more than a dozen people with those initials." Heihachi suggested.
"It'd be probably best to look into archives of people you've worked with." Kazi suggested and Heihachi smiled.
"Hold that thought." He spoke before he picked up the car phone and dialed. "Yes, it's Heihachi Mishima, that plan I talked to you about earlier, I'd like to execute it," a pause and the sound of the streets came in and left just as quickly. "Yes, I'm sure. Good, the funds will be in your account shortly." Heihachi rung off.
"I don't suppose you laid anyone off who would be this angry?" Kazi asked.
"No but, you're discovery is better than anything we've gotten in the last fifteen years." Heihachi boasted. Kazi smirked in the rearview mirror.
"Well, it doesn't hurt that I used to do these things." He shyly admitted; in the rear view mirror he could see Heihachi handing him something, he took it. "More statements?" he asked.
"Not quite" Heihachi answered; the cryptic quality of Heihachi's answer implied that he wanted Kazi to look at them now, which he did.
"What's this?" He asked dumbfounded.
"A one way ticket to Japan," Heihachi smiled.
"I don't understand…" Kazi went on.
"I'd like for you come work for me." Heihachi suggested; Kazi cleared his throat.
"But, what about-"
"Your current job?" Heihachi asked. "That was them on phone, I'm paying them to let you go." Heihachi answered.
"I don't know what to say." Kazi gulped; Heihachi laughed in a strong bellow, he quieted when he heard himself, he sounded like his father.
"Say yes." Heihachi suggested; Kazi turned right at another corner.
"Yes."
