Chapter 13

Matsuoka opened his car door, stepping out onto the gravel. The air was crisp collecting each breath in short-lived clouds as he huddled into his trench coat. He couldn't believe his eyes. The damn ramshackle warehouse still stood, a stone's throw from the dock, which had rotted away leaving only the wooden pylon skeleton behind. He remembered shoving Narihisago off that dock into the water after a stern lecture. This old place, the Stitcher's secret laboratory. His stomach turned as he recalled the putrid odor of the animal waste mixed with the stink of the abandoned fishery. And that was just in the building itself. Nearby there had once been the cargo containers, modified to house his human test patients. Thankfully, those had been hauled away as evidence and never returned.

That was one twisted son of a bitch. But still, this place should have been leveled.

Far in the corner of the shipping yards, this building was only reachable by a twisted road through the main shipyards.

Yokota closed the passenger door, eyeing the building. "This is it?"

Distantly, Matsuoka nodded, reaching down to check his gun. "This is where the apparent intel points to. Tell me you're armed?"

He produced his own firearm and checked it. "Always when on duty. Mag is full."

"Good. Just in case."

Yokota came around beside him. "Hey, it sounded like you knew this place when you were on the phone."

"I did." He cocked an eyebrow, are those fresh tire tracks? "Some years ago this was a major crime scene. Never thought I'd see it again." He held up a hand for silence and knelt down. It was subtle, but there was indeed a disturbance in the gravel forming recent ruts. Droplets of oil down the center undisturbed from the storm a couple nights back. Even the seal on the door had been broken, spider webs with leaves clinging to them collected unnaturally up in the corners. With a hushed voice, Matsuoka pointed, "Someone's been here."

Offering a nod, Yokota delivered a few hand signals.

That earned the detective a grin. It felt just like the old days. Matsuoka nodded in agreement. Guns drawn, safety on, they crept along the side of the building heading for the main door. A quick glance inside at the darkness told him nothing. The windows too grimy, the light too poor.

He reached for the door knob with a gloved hand. It was locked. This is problematic.

Yokota leaned in closer, whispering, "Do we have warrant?"

Matsuoka shook his head. This was quite the dilemma. This place shouldn't exist. But tire tracks and oil drops were not a justifiable reason to force entry. They needed a better reason.

THUCK!

They both ducked down, evading the windows. What in the hell was that?

He held his breath, peering through the window he could barely make out the outline of a car. Inside the building a rushed cascade of footsteps, a flurry of motion toward the back of the building. Four figures in shadows approached something vaguely human shaped on the ground. A beam of sunlight caught a patch of something red.

Matsuoka stared at what he was certain was a body. The four figures grabbed and shifted it frantically between them. None of them were Narihisago or Hondomachi. "Yokota, call in for backup. Full—looks like we might need medics … or a coroner."

Moving away from the building while keeping out of sight, Yokota rushed the call through to dispatch before returning to Matsuoka's side. "They'll be here in five."

Gritting his teeth, Matsuoka snarled. "Five?" He silently cursed. They couldn't just sit and wait here. Something was clearly going on inside and the clock was ticking. Nerves wracked, he flicked the safety of his gun off and on in rapid succession. Are they in there? Is Hondomachi alright? Has that wretched bastard laid a hand on her? How can I sit out here and wait for backup to arrive!

Inside two of the figures turned on their heels and raced up the stairs.

Something was going on. Patience be damned! This is enough probable cause!

Safety off, he backed up and shoulder rammed the door down. The old dry-rotted wood splintered off the hinges. Racing in he didn't look back, locked right on the remaining pair.

They turned as he rushed them. Two burly thugs, already shocked to hell to begin with, froze, eyes flicking between the figure at their feet in a gigantic blood spatter and the gun in Matsuoka's hands.

"Hands up, now! Not going to repeat myself!"

Immediately, they complied.

Matsuoka kept his gun trained on them, barking out. "Don't even try to move!" From here he glimpsed their tattoos marking them as yakuza. Yokota read his mind and dashed forward, cuffing the two thugs and pulling their firearms. "Names?"

Still looking wide-eyed toward the mass on the floor they spoke distractedly, "Kenta"

"Ryota."

"Who was that?" He pointed to the broken mass in a dress suit, between the blown seams the body suit tattoo showed.

They swallowed, neither wanting to answer.

Matsuoka growled. "His name!"

Kenta flinched first. "Konya. Our boss, Yuu Konya."

"What happened here?"

Ryota spat out hysterically, "He fell from up there. One minute he was standing there, the next … he fell!" His eyes widened to the sound of something tumbling down the stairs. A body rolled to a stop at the base, bruised and battered the neck at a wrong angle. "Tsuyoshi!"

Matsuoka narrowed his eyes. "What the heck is going on?" He was cut short as another tumbled halfway down. The head jammed against the rail staring downward. A dark bruise across the neck, eyes wide.

Kenta cringed, "Orochi!"

From above a frantic cry caught his attention, "Narihisago please—answer me!"

What the hell! Rising to his feet, Matsuoka snapped over his shoulder, "Yokota, keep an eye on them." He dashed round the railing, shoes slapped the metal staircase. Halfway up he spotted her back a few steps from the top. She was kneeling over something. "Hondomachi!" It did nothing to turn her. He poured all his effort to his speed, she was alive! Her left arm hung at a strange angle, her clothing torn, patches of road rash beneath. A slight glimpse as she turned her head revealed a puffy blackened eye.

That was all he had sight of as she fussed over something. She was alive! Racing up to her, he grabbed her shoulder and tried to turn her. "Hondomachi! Are you alright?"

She resisted his effort, leaning forward, and holding fast. Her fingers were drenched with blood, eyes panicked. "Stop! Stop bleeding, damn it! You've made it this far, I'll be damned if you're gonna die now."

His own blood ran cold. The object of her fretting—she was grasping Narihisago's right wrist, the blood pooling through her fingers. He lay on his back across the open grated stair, pale with eyes unfocused, rasping each breath. The man was a wreck, one discolored eyelid nearly swollen shut a goose-egg on the left side of his head and a scab at the center. His clothing was torn with only a vague memory of once being a white jumpsuit, a mixture of road grime and blood soiled it. A quick glance to the other end of the step and he spied the busted ankle at an unhealthy angle, the foot swollen and discolored worse than his eyelid.

Matsuoka narrowed his eyes finding it hard to dredge up any sympathy. This man is a serial killer.

"Narihisago! Say something!" Hondomachi begged.

It was a faint whisper, barely above a breath, " … home … "

"Keep talking! Don't close your eyes! You have to stay with me!"

Grabbing her shoulder firmer, Matsuoka tried to tug her back. "Come away … " She was warm, feverishly warm. The fever burned bright in her eyes. "Hondomachi, you're sick."

She pulled out of his grip. "He's bleeding to death! Help him! We have to stop the blood. Matsuoka, do something!"

"The scumbag isn't worth saving!"

"He kept me alive! Kept me going. He wouldn't let them take me. Do something!"

He gritted his teeth, watching for a moment as her fingers fought a losing battle. Her waning grip wasn't strong enough. He needed a tourniquet. Matsuoka's anger blazed, but her pleading cut through. With a curse, he unbuckled his belt and cinched it around Narihisago's forearm yanking it tight and running the end over the railing tying it off so it elevated the limb and kept the pressure on. It slowed to a trickle now. "There. You can let go now."

She released her death grip, now her bloodied hand rested on the center of his chest. "Narihisago. Talk to me. You have to stay conscious. Say something, anything."

" … I want … to go … home … " Each word was a forced whisper. His eyes would barely open. "I'm going … to see them … Muku … " They clenched closed as he whimpered, " … Ayako … "

Matsuoka's jaw dropped.

"You know that name." Hondomachi turned to him, searching. "Who was Ayako?"

The fire in Matsuoka dwindled to a shameful ember. "Ayako … was his wife." He stared at the gash on Narihisago's wrist before he shut his own eyes. "Days after their daughter was beaten to death by the Challenger, Narihisago returned home from work to find her dead. She was … a suicide—she'd cut her wrists open."

Hondomachi inhaled sharply. She took his left hand, the set of cuffs hung down from his bruised wrist. "Hold on. Stay with me. I'm not letting you slip away."

Narihisago's mouth moved, " … let … me … die … " His eyes were entirely unfocused.

"Yokota!" Matsuoka called down, "Send the EMTs up as soon as they get here!"

"Will do!"

He turned back to her, a hand on her shoulder. "Hondomachi, you have to understand … "

Firmly she declared, "He's going to be alright."

He grunted, unconvinced. A minute later he heard Yokota sending the medic up. Looking over his shoulder, he tugged again. "Ok, time to get out of the way."

Hondomachi tried to cling to Narihisago. Her fingers slipped, releasing the hand as Matsuoka held her to him if only to keep her from racing back into the way.

The EMT knelt down in her place getting a quick glance. He took the pulse. "Phew, well, that's a plus." He pressed the mic strapped to his shoulder, "Gonna need the board for this one." Swiftly he set an IV in Narihisago's left arm, injecting a few meds along with the fluid bag. Stabilizers to buy precious time.

In Matsuoka's grip, Hondomachi's feverish body squirmed. Worry in her eyes. He tried to make her face him, but she refused. "You never answered, are you ok?"

She shook her head, but refused to say more.

A second EMT rushed up with a large strapped board. By then the first had wrapped a bandage around the wrist before carefully untethering the belt tourniquet from the railing. He left it engaged with enough pressure to cut the flow. Carefully he and the second EMT splinted the battered ankle. As they went to move the board under him, they withdrew their hands at the sticky fluid from his back. "What the … "

Hondomachi's eyes half hooded, her voice trembled, "They tortured him, whipped him repeatedly with a belt. Tried to force him comply, but he wouldn't. He wouldn't do it. No matter what they did—he wouldn't!"

The second EMT glanced at her. "Hey, you need to come with us too. Uhh, what's his name, do you know it?"

"Akihito Narihisago."

Matsuoka leaned forward. "Take him to the Kura."

They stared at him, deer in headlights. "The Kura?"

"He's an inmate there. We have a good medical ward. I'll call ahead and advise them."

"Ehh, ok. Narihisago, we're gonna try to do this as gently as we can. Just stay with us, stay conscious." As they eased Narihisago onto the board. Lying on his side the numerous tears in his shirt revealed open sores weeping a pinkish fluid, a gash on the side of his neck looked similar. "I need you to stay conscious, talk to me."

Narihisago barely even tried, his eyes drifting closed.

"Nope. Stay with me. What's your name?"

"Aaa … Aki … hito." He could only mouth the rest as they carried the board down the stairs, pelting him with questions. Matsuoka couldn't tell is he was trying to answer.

Hondomachi moved to follow, almost trance like.

"Can you walk?" Matsuoka held her up.

She nodded, wobbling a bit. A coughing fit wracked her until she tumbled against him.

"Alright, you've had enough." Hefting her into his grip she sank into it, he cradled her down the stairs. Her left elbow was obviously dislocated, a large goose egg hidden in her hair. Every breath was a tight rasp, he felt it rattle against his chest. "It's ok. They're gonna take you to the Kura. The doctors there will get you all fixed up."

At the back of the ambulance he handed her over to them. "Take good care of Koharu Hondomachi. She's a fighter, she'll pull through."

The doors closed and with the light blaring, the ambulance sped off.

Dialing, he waited for the answer, "Kokufu. I'm sending them straight to the Kura. Have the medical staff on alert."

"They were there? You recovered them?"

"Yes. The EMTs are stabilizing them in the ambulance along the way."

"Stabilizing? What happened?"

"Tell Momoki he was right." His hand tightened. "They were being held … by yakuza."

A cold fury burned in his veins. Turning, he dashed back into the building and stormed up to Ryota and Kenta still under guard. Grabbing Kenta by the collar he glared him in the eyes. "You're gonna tell me what happened here, and you're gonna tell me now!"

~ID~

Fukuda laid on his back in bed, one leg propped on the other. After being brought back to his cell he'd sat there for a while before realizing, "This is ridiculous. They're not gonna tell a guy like me anything."

Out of the corner of his eye he spotted someone outside the door. With a sigh, he dragged himself up to the edge of the bed. No point in rushing anything life in prison was glacial pace. "Must be breakfast …" he stopped and stared, " … huh?"

It wasn't a guard with a tray. Well, it was a guard, just not breakfast. It was Soma, standing outside the door with an expression somewhere between a smile and shock. "They've been recovered."

Leaning back on his arms, Fukuda attempted to look more cavalier than he was. Really? Both of them? No way! "Well now, isn't that interesting. And were there in that place in my weird ass dream?"

Soma nodded, his eyes still wide. "They were. You did it. You were responsible for the break in the case."

"Somehow I just knew that was a message from Narihisago."

"I only caught a few details as Momoki sent me to tell you."

He blinked slowly. "He did? Well that was nice of him. So, soon I won't be staring at an empty cell across the way anymore."

The excitement faded as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Uhhhh, might be a while before that changes."

"Wait, Narihisago's coming back here, right? Right?"

Pulling off his cap he glanced to the ceiling. "From what I heard, he's going straight to the medical ward. They're prepping for surgery right now."

Leaning forward on his elbows, Fukuda frowned. "That's not so good. Is Mr. Anger Issues gonna be ok?"

Soma shrugged. "They're still en route. I don't think anyone knows at this point."

Fukuda hung his head, muttering as Soma walked away, "I finally decide to cooperate and it may be for all for nothing? Damn it. Just my luck."