Chapter 4

The smell of freshly cut grass lingered in the air, more pungent than the fumes of jet fuel that mingled with it. Small airfields like this, private airfields, were often just stretches of grass long enough to land a plane. That's all it was, a clearing in the trees and a hangar. But that was where Gin waited. In the dark, on the outskirts of a field, watching. An unassuming location, if only at first glance. But, if it had truly been unimportant, it wouldn't have guards posted at the hangar and patrols circling its perimeter. Yakuza guards if Vermouth's information was worth half a damn.

Vermouth had probably been correct about this location if nothing else. It was private and secure, a good place for a mark to change hands. And for the same reasons, not the best place to try to intercept that transaction. But, it was what he had come to do all the same.

The patrol headed out from the hangar again, two men on foot with large flashlights who were doubtless armed more heavily than he could make out in the dark. Although, he was more concerned about their radios than any firepower they might be concealing. If they kept to the pattern of the other patrols, they would walk along the outer fence and return.

Gin lay low in the underbrush, just concealed behind the treeline. He was already within the fenced area, and he tried not to be too wary of the armed men slipping out of sight behind him. Another flashlight bobbed to life by the hangar, and started on its way not along the road to the outer gate but into the field. Towards Gin.

It was important not to move in situations like this. Instead, he watched his breathing, kept it steady, kept his heart rate down. That he'd been spotted was only a possibility, and if he moved now it could prove a certainty.

The flashlight veered off after it reached a certain point, turning sharply to its right. Gin measured its movements intently now. The light would bob and sway as before, with the man's steps. But then, it would drop, flash at the ground for a few paces as if searching. Then stop, go a bit wild for a second and continue. It fell into a pattern, so exact that the steps he took in each interval counted out the same with little margin for error.

His guess was that the man's flashlight went wild like that when he bent down, and the intervals were exact because he was laying out the edgelights of the runway. Each time he bent over he was staking in a light. They weren't on yet, obviously. But they wouldn't be if he was just setting them out. They were expecting a late arrival then, like Vermouth had said.

And so he waited. Waited for the plane with an enemy as old as any he had known to arrive. Waited for when they would come to collect Elaine from the team of Yakuza brutes they had contracted to steal her away. Waited to kill them.

The man in the field before him turned unexpectedly, after only about a hundred feet. He continued in his pattern, ducking every few paces, across the width of the runway. He went another hundred feet before turning again.

He couldn't be laying out the edgelights of the runway then. It had to be something else. Had the plan changed? Or, was Vermouth's intel completely wrong to begin with? What little information she'd been able to give him anyways.

A hundred by a hundred foot square. It would be the right size for a helicopter field landing, he supposed. But the significance of a chopper landing here was lost on him. Whether due to a change in plans or bad information from the start, he was certain of one thing, it was past time he acquired some information he could trust.

Gin kept low, slowly closing the distance between him and the man he'd been watching. He avoided catching the edges of the flashlight when it wandered, and approached from behind.

This would have to be timed well. If he alerted the guards to his presence he'd be caught out in an open field. He'd come far enough from cover now that they could kill him ten times over before he could get back to it.

Gin followed close enough to hear the occasional confirmation over the man's radio. Too static to make out at this distance. Still, it added one more variable.

"Go ahead." The man he'd been stalking answered into his handheld radio. It was clunky, and outdated, and would likely prove an utter pain to handle covertly.

"Yeah, you're good. I'm just about done here." He clipped the radio back to his belt and bent to stake another unlit bulb into the grass.

He'd been correct. It was the way the man swung out his flashlight arm when he bent over that made the light seem to go wild from a distance. An unfortunate quirk of his, because when he reached the next point, and his light went wild for just a second, nothing at all seemed amiss to the guards posted outside the hangar.

Gin lowered the man's body onto the grass, but held the flashlight steadily at waist level. There was very little he could do to prevent it from being discovered when those lights came on. He didn't expect his ruse to last until then anyways.

Ever mindful of how the flashlight would look back at the hangar, Gin completed setting out the ground lights. He counted out his steps, so the light shined ahead, at the ground, and swung out, all at the right times.

All the while he listened to the chatter over the radio, piecing together information: The chopper was coming to refuel before heading out. It had been unexpected, and the crew here weren't particularly prepared to service it, still, it was being rushed; The timing of something important had been moved up; someone felt cheated because they weren't at the right place at the right time. That conversation had been moved to a private line; finally, he got a location. A tower owned by the Suzuki Financial Group.

That's where the extraction would take place then.

Just as he started on his way back to the hangar, Gin heard the rumble of two car engines start up somewhere just beyond the clearing. He maintained his unhurried pace and was nearly back to the hangar when the flash of headlights came unto the field. They would be quickly approaching the landing site he knew. One pair of headlights for each of the front corners.

Good illumination of the site was important for landing a helicopter, though not so great news for him. He could hear the distant wiring of helicopter blades now as well. It wasn't more than seven miles away, maybe even as few as four. He had a lot less time than he had planned.

He shined his flashlight toward the guards' faces as he closed in on them, for the same reason helicopter landing sites are only lit from one side.

"Hey, knock it off!" The two guards at the entrance raised a hand to shield their eyes as he came closer.

They didn't see the gun hiding in the blind spot just behind the glare of the flashlight. They likely couldn't even separate Gin's shape from the darkness behind him. The burst of gunshots revealed him before their radios could, though that revelation was not long to follow.

After dropping the two posted outside the hangar, Gin pulled flush to the wall by its entrance. Their reaction time was actually fairly impressive. Three men, guns brandished poured from the doorway. Well, they would have, if Gin hadn't cracked the dense metal handle of the flashlight across the knuckles of the first one, knocking his gun to the ground. Then shot over his lurched form into his companions.

The first shot had been fatal, the second wide, as the man it'd been intended for ducked out of the way.

The man, now doubled over in the doorway, rammed his shoulder into Gin, very nearly knocking him from his feet. As he was pushed backward, Gin snapped the flashlight up under the man's jaw. Something crunched savagely as it connected.

The third man, who still hadn't made it through the doorway, fired a shot off at Gin, but the angle was bad since his companion had pushed Gin back several feet. Gin grabbed the man with the bloodied face by the collar and hauled him up between him and the man on the other side of the steel doorway.

It was silent for a moment as both parties waited for the other to pop back around the wall and into range. Gin led with the bleeding man in a tight hold before him. He swung out quickly intending to draw his fire, which it did. Gin shot low, catching him in the leg. The man in his hold fell completely limp and he let him drop as he fired again at the man inside. Being shot in the leg proved an adequate distraction, and Gin was able to dispatch him cleanly this time.

The small office at the back of the hangar was otherwise empty. Gin made a quick sweep of the hangar and didn't find anyone else tucked away. A small aircraft or two, and supplies but nothing living.

That left the two who had gone on patrol, and whoever was driving the cars. It was possible they were the same individuals, but not certain. It was better to assume a minimum of four than to rely on the assumption of only two. If they were smart they would be holed up at the helicopter landing site. It was an easily defensible position, if only because the huge swaths of open ground all around it made it nearly impossible to approach them without being seen.

They would increase their numbers with whoever came in the helicopter as well. Or, they might stay there in order to defend them if they were important. No, it wasn't very likely that they would pursue after him, and he didn't have a good way of approaching them without getting picked off.

What were the odds that they would refuel and take off for Suzuki Tower without ever bothering with him? It might just depend on if they had the fuel with them in the cars. The whir of the helicopter had grown very loud now, goading him to make a decision.

"Anyone still alive in there?" The radio on his belt and another on the desk asked in unison.

Were they attempting to begin negotiations? Perhaps they did need the fuel tanks in the hangar then. He could play that to his advantage.

"Just one." Gin radioed back.

A long silence followed. Though Gin didn't wait idly through it. There were industrial tanks of aircraft fuel in here that just might prove a rather valuable commodity at the moment. It'd be worth his while to create some scarcity in the market.