(Monday Morning, Outside the Westview - Hitoshi & Lya)
With the sarcophagus obtained, your attention turns to a more practical matter: where to store it. Although it would be amusing, neither you nor Lya have the inclination to actually use it as a set piece. If the damned thing has mystical significance, who knows what it could do in the midst of a performance?
Also, it's heavy. Alex could lift it, or maybe drag it around. It's not exactly a convenient size.
The limousine jerks to a stop. You hear the driver tap on the horn in a kind of 'hey, pay attention' gesture.
He lowers the partition. "Sorry, Sir, there's a homeless woman blocking the driveway."
You can see the woman just ahead, a wrinkled face under a knit cap that is shading from black to a dirty grey. She is wearing an oversized shirt and sweatpants of a similar grimy hue. Fingerless gloves where the palms are worn through. Dirt under her untrimmed fingernails. Filthy feet stuffed into unlaced tennis shoes.
She's pushing a shopping cart stuffed with bits and pieces. Pieces of cardboard. The Sporting Green from a newspaper. Some trash bags stuffed with scavenged soda cans and water bottles.
And she's in the middle of the driveway, worrying at an ear with one finger.
The driver honks again, and the woman starts, losing her grip on the shopping cart, which begins rolling further down the driveway. It pitches to one side, then upends, spilling the recycling and other belongings. She wails, and waddles over to the cart, fumbling for a moment before righting it. And then she begins picking up her things.
"I think she's going to be a while. If you'll give me a moment, Mr. Ryder, I'll just back up and drop you off at the turnout, then have Security help the … lady … along."
Hitoshi shakes his head. "Nono Will, it will be fine. I'll get out here." He smiles.
"Lya, I'll see you in a bit, I'm going to help this lady with her belongings. She looks like she could use it."
With that said, he grabs his cane and hops out of the car, walking towards the lady.
"Here miss, let me give you a hand with those."
"My bottles!" she snaps at you, waving you off. You catch a rank odor that drifts along in her wake, the sour combination of perspiration, beer, and garlic. "This used to be such a nice place."
She fumbles about, returning to the cart with her arms full of bottles and cans, dumping them into the basket. The sudden addition of weight causes it to shift again, and it almost seems as if there will be a repeat performance of the runaway cart.
The old lady claps her hands three times and bends over the cart ... or was she bowing to it? She mutters something you can't quite make out, then returns to gathering things up. The cart stays in place.
"Thank you," she says as she whisks the lone bottle you'd picked up out of your hands. "You're not like the others."
"Dude it's your limo," Lya laughs as she steps out to join him to talk to the old woman.
"That's quite a bottle collection you've got there," Lya remarks as she glances over the cart and sees various bottles of different ages and quality. "I think I've...hang on a sec..." she starts patting down the pockets of her coat and smiles as she hears the 'clink' of glass and pulls out a beer bottle. "Yup, here we go... I still have a bottle of that rare IPA we were drinking last night and what do you know... I never drank it."
She smiles as she sets the bottle on top of the cart. "My apologies that it's not cold anymore... but I hope it's a welcome addition to the collection."
"Hey Hitoshi, I'm going to gather the girls and make some calls... see if we can find a safe out of the way place to store that thing we picked up. Give you a call later?"
The old woman cackles, and the bottle of IPA disappears into the folds of her voluminous grey coat. "A gift! A gift! Such a nice girl, so kind to Oba Izzy."
The eccentric mirth fades suddenly. And yet, there is a sparkle in the woman's eyes that speaks to her outward appearance being the mask, and the serious mien being closer to her true self.
"Hitoshi, yes, we have things to talk about, Hitoshi and I," she says. She begins pushing her cart down the driveway and into the shadows of the underground garage.
"Don't dawdle. Oba Izzy doesn't like to be kept waiting."
"You... want me to wait for you?" Lya asks Hitoshi as she gestures to some bus stop benches nearby.
Hitoshi shakes his head. "Nah, I think I will be fine. I honestly don't think Loki's gonna take me out of the game just yet, he's having too much fun pissing me off."
He Smiles at Lya, as he leans on his cane, that boyish smile that hides the stress of now being CEO of the Westview grand..
"I liked your idea about fundraising the museum. Talk to the girls about it, see what they say. I'll get back to you on this situation. Have Will take you home. Tell him I said so. "
He twirls his cane. and starts strolling after the old woman. In his mind, he's ready for a fight, and has no idea whats going to happen, but he wasn't about to tell Lya that.
The mouth of the garage seems darker than usual. It can't be the lights, because the garage was upgraded to efficient LED arrays. You know it's not taggers, as Westview groundsmen remove graffiti with the particular attention to detail that marks a top-notch resort.
It's when you hear the crunch of rock grinding against your heels that you pause for a moment. A glance over your shoulder shows the driveway, but it is blurry and indistinct. It might as well be a world away. And instead of the regimented lines and crisp light of LED, you are on the threshold of a dark place, a cave where things are dark ... and darker still.
You've lost sight of 'Oba Izzy,' but you can hear her humming a folk tune that you vaguely recall from your childhood.
The humming stops.
A voice that you barely recognize as that of 'Oba Izzy' hisses out of the shadows.
"Are you afraid, Hitoshi Ryder, Son of Hachiman?" the voice asks.
You have an answer on your lips, of course, but your voice fails you.
"Mmmmm. So close," the voice says. "So very close. You can feel it, can't you? All around you. The darkness. My darkness."
There's a slow, rasping sound that could be something dragging across the rocks, or ... it's the woman's breathing. Taking in the darkness as if it were a delicate perfume.
"Do you fear the darkness, Hitoshi? Or does it call to you?" she says. "So many shadows, so much darkness behind the noble mask. And so, you have caught my attention, little one."
You realize that she has moved to your side. You can feel her presence. Or, rather, smell it. The odor of decay and foulness. The grey coat is revealed to be the tatters of a once-elegant kimono. The obi stained with something dark, a mantle also.
"It is a dangerous path you walk," she warns. "Courage does not come with knowing one wields a lantern. It comes with the willingness to step into the darkness without one."
You feel your divine half rising to the challenge. Your mortal half, on the other hand, is gibbering with a primal fear of shadows, darkness, and death ...
Hitoshi takes a moment to compose himself.
"Honestly, I don't know. I do know that I have an enemy, and he is willing to do anything to get what he wants. I must be willing to do what I have to in order to protect that which I care about."
He pauses for a moment. "My Adversary is constantly trying to drag the war out into the light of public view. The public is not ready to know about such thing, but I know you know that. You are a goddess after all. This means you are here for a reason. Might I surmise it's to make me some sort of offer?"
There is a clicking sound, perhaps Izanagi clucking her tongue at the mention of your enemy, though it is not clear at whom the disapproval is directed.
"And what would you offer Oba Izanagi?" rasps the goddess. "Choose your next words carefully, Son of Hachiman."
Hitoshi leans on his cane and is silent for a long time before speaking. "The only think I have any right to offer you is my honor, and my life, though I know not what value either of those are in a war that may soon take one or both of them. You are a goddess, so money is no object to you, at least I don't think it is, I may be wrong."
He falls silent, waiting for her response.
Izanagi's eyes flutter as she again takes a slow (but rasping) breath. "Yes. There it is!" she cackles. "You stand in darkness and you face it, unafraid. You feel it, yes. But you must go further ..."
The darkness parts before you, and there is a bowl resting upon a low table. Like everything else in this realm, there is an aura of decay and corruption, but you are no longer entirely certain if this is merely a primal response, an inbred fear of the darkness and the predators lurking in the shadows.
Izanagi pulls the bottle of IPA from her kimono. "Eh. Wrong one."
The IPA disappears, and she produces a flask of sake. She motions for you to take the bowl, closer to a rice bowl than a sake cup. You can barely make out a kanji at the bottom, the symbol of the Void.
She pours a generous amount from the flask. It is not a clear stream of sake, but a roiling darkness. Liquid and smoke at the same time. An acrid smell.
"Drink," she says.
Hitoshi cracks his neck and picks up the bowl.
"Now what was that saying about open the mouth and hold the gums..?" He mutters to himself.
"Oh well, what dosent kill you and all that jazz." He says shrugging before downing the dark concoction. He drops the bowl back upon the tables, choking and sputtering for a moment. Bending over with his hands on his knees, he catches his break, and after a moment straightens up.
"Okay, that was... unpleasant. "
The liquid burns in your throat. Not unlike your first taste of scotch, but considerably less pleasant. You are aware that something is changing, but you can't quite put your finger on it.
And then there is a scream from amid the shadows, a scream you've heard far too many times. It is your worst nightmare.
It is Akane.
Tensing, you whirl to demand answers from Izanagi, but she is not there. Nor is the cave. Shadows whirl about, tracing the doors and hallways you had stalked.
You know what comes next.
You are set upon by several assailants. It is the same as before, but different. In this telling, they are not Yakuza foot soldiers, but elusive wisps of shadow. Shinobi out of legend.
But in a moment of self-reflection, you understand that you are not the same, either. The power of a Scion flows through your veins, and Honsho Masamune lay in your hands ...
Hitoshi's head snaps over toward the sound and looks at the shadow men flowing around him. "Get out of my way."
He takes off running, Masamune flashing out left, and right blocking attacks. His only thought is saving Akane. He leaps over one assailant, dodges around another, moving with power that no mortal has. Up ahead he can see the door to the room akane is in, and he plants both feet, pushing off, throwing himself at the door.
The power sings in your body and spirit, the years of harsh discipline coming together with practical knowledge. You understand that you are being tested, not only in martial skill, but in temperment. The Hitoshi that-is-now avoids the mistakes of the Hitoshi that-was-then.
Nothing and no one stands between you and your goal.
You crash through the door, and the room beyond is a stark contrast. Akane is there, just as you remember, but a shining, perfect ideal, the light that sustains you through the darkness.
There is your enemy, the boroykudan who is heir to the Kami No Arashithe Divine Storm, a Yakuza clan.
And, as before, it ends with your foe kneeling before you, spent and begging for mercy.
You know what you did, of course.
"Sumimasen gomenasai, sumimasen gomenasai," he whispers, which is decidedly different from the 'Fuck you, gaijin bastard' that you remember him saying.
And part of you begins to understand. Darkness exists only because the light does. Mercy and vengeance are different sides of the same coin.
Which do you choose, this time? Can you choose differently, you ask yourself.
"This is all a dream, but still, am I different, or am I the same?" Hitoshi mutters, walking around the bastard who killed Akane the last time. he looks down at the man on his knees. Slowly he shakes his head.
"No, the past is the past, and thats where it should stay. I've put this behind me. I won't kill this man again. He's already paid for what he's done."
He looks over at Akane. "It's time to let go Akane. I'll join you at some point, but until then, I've got to do what I must to protect those I can in the here and now. At some point that may mean taking another human life, but that will be a bridge to cross at that time, and it certainly won't be in anger and rage."
The kneeling form of your adversary disappears in a swirl of dark mist. There is no denying that you still feel anger and a sense of loss, but the darkness has no hold over you. You are not bound to it. Akane, too, disappears in a flare of brilliant light that somehow seems entirely fitting. And you realize that she, too, is free from the pain and abuse that had been laden upon her. Some small intimation of her passes through and around you, almost a parting caress.
It is in that moment, of course, that you realize the darkness is not gone. It is there, a part of you, etched upon the walls and floor in the form of your shadow.
The scene fades, and you are back in the cave, the bowl still in your hands, the acrid taste of ... whatever that was still lingering on your tongue. You hear Izanagi's rasping breath from close behind, almost as if she had been reading over your shoulder.
"Touched by the darkness and unafraid to walk within, but not consumed by it," Izanagi says. "I will have need of such champions, when the time comes."
Hitoshi looks down at the bowl then sets it gently on the table, and turns around to face the dark goddess. "Izanagi, I ask of you, What of my father? I admit I was angry with him for the longest time for not saving Akane, and we have not spoken in a good many years."
"The Lord of Nets is ever mindful of the catch," Izanagi says. "You believe it is your anger that has kept you apart; perhaps it is his way of making sure you found your own voice."
She fumbles for something in the folds of her kimono, and then a withered, greyish claw (hand?) stretches forth. "Honsho Masamune. Give it to me."
Hitoshi looks down at his cane, and the sword he knows is contained within. After a moment he places it in the goddess's grasp.
Izanagi cackles. Her hands move with surprising swiftness and dexterity, and your cane is quickly adorned with a sageo. She hands Honsho Masamune back to you.
"A reminder that the darkness is there, for you to draw upon," she says. "You and I will speak again."
The darkness recedes. You are standing where the driveway becomes the underground garage, and the symbolism - standing half in daylight, half in darkness - does not elude you.
Nor does the fact that something has changed. It is not just the acquisition of power, but a feeling that something within you has been unlocked ...
Hitoshi looks back at the dark garage, then out at the light if day, and the right side of his mouth twitches up in a half smile as his eyes glimmer. Slowly he walks up the ramp heading back towards the entrance that Will was going to drop him and Lya at before he ran into Izanagi.
To your surprise, Will is just swinging the limousine around as Lya waits for him to do so. A glance at your watch tells you barely two minutes have passed since you stepped in - and back out of - the underworld.
Seeing you, of course, Will stops. "Is there something more you need, Mr. Ryder?"
Hitoshi smiles and shakes his head. "Nono Will, everything is just fine. That is unless Lya needs a ride anywhere."
He looks over at Lya and raises an eyebrow in a questioning way.
"Oba Izzy, huh?" Lya chuckles as she walks over to Hitoshi and flashes him the wiki page on her phone describing the Japanese goddess Izanami. "So... spill it... what happened?"
Hitoshi looks up at the sky. "Oh you know, portends of the future, a test of light verses darkness, good versus evil. My place in it all." He pulls out a smoke and lights it up.
"Apparently I passed the test."
Lya snorts as she grabs his cigarette and takes a puff before handing it back. "That's all you need... another deity telling you how awesome you are. Well if you're done with class I need to head over to the Soul Food Cafe for lunch and then make some calls to see if we can store that sarcophagus somewhere."
She scratches her head and then pulls her phone out of her pocket. "I don't know if Rusty is still in business... but he used to run a salvage yard here in Vegas when I ran with the gangs and I might be able to pull a few strings to see if we can store it there. I mean... what better than in plain sight, right? That and it won't be around people in case something weird goes on with it."
The phone rings a few times.
"Henderson Salvage & Storage," a familiar voice growls in answer. "We can take anything you can dish out."
There's a loud crash in the background, followed by an uncomfortable chain-reaction sliding-metal sound.
"Goddamn it, use the forklift!" Rusty shouts. "Sorry. Can I help ya?"
"Rusty, my man... how's the metal hanging?" Lya replies. "It's Lya Bach... you may not remember me, but I'm sure you remember that choice 1969 GTO Judge that somehow ended up in your scrap yard a few years ago... am I right?"
"Hey, Lya," Rusty says. "Sorry to say that ride is long gone. What can I do you for? Need some salvage for a Burning Man piece? DIY house fixer-upper?"
You rather get the idea that 'long gone' means restored, repainted, and fixed up with a new VIN.
"Actually I got something I was hoping you could store out of the way for me," Lya replies as she searches her pockets for a cigarette with her other hand. "I've got this thing we might be using as a set piece, but it's made out of stone and as big as my fridge so it's not exactly going to fit my lifestyle until the show, if you get me." She grins as she pulls a cigarette out and puts it between her lips before she rolls her eyes because she can't find her lighter.
"If you'd be willing to hold onto it for me until we need it I could slip you guys some tickets for the next show, or maybe bring over a bottle of some choice aged bourbon that I've had stashed away for a while now..."
"You know us, Lya. Smash it or stash it, we got you covered," Rusty laughs. "But I'll still take you up on the bourbon. We can have a drink or two. Catch up.*"
"You're a star, Rusty. I'll get the girls to help and we'll bring it and that bourbon over," Lya replies. "Catch you later."
She rolls her eyes as she pulls a lighter out of her cleavage and finally lights her cigarette before walking back over to Hitoshi and the limo. "Good news... looks like I found a place to store the sarcophagus!"
Hitoshi grins. "Great. Now that that's done, shall we go have lunch? I think it's my turn to buy."
"I've got to make the delivery personally... I owe somebody a drink for this if you know what I mean," Lya chuckles. "So if you could drop me off back at Orithia's we'll get the van and take care of the drop-off."
Hitoshi chuckles. "Yes, I know exactly what you mean, and yes, I can drop you off. I'm actually parked in the underground garage I just came from."
He bows. "After you miss."
(Henderson Salvage - Monday Afternoon / Lya)
It takes some acrobatics to shoehorn the sarcophagus into the van, the weight being less of a concern than its overall size. It's a tight fit that leaves Phoebe sitting on Klepto's lap for the trip over to Rusty's.
The over-sized barn that is the centerpiece of Henderson Salvage and Storage is still there, the name in faded white block letters. But on one side, there are now a set of low buildings, rental storage lockers surrounded by a Cyclone fence. You can see security cameras on the corners of those buildings, as well as several mounted on the light fixtures throughout the junkyard proper.
You are able to drive into the barn, where you can see more changes. The loft has been converted into office space, and there are shelves featuring the sort of 'urban gold' popular with the home-improvement crowd, plus an assortment of 'junk' sculptures made from welded scrap - fountains, marble roller coasters, stylized sculptures.
"Lya!" Rusty's voice booms across the space. "Damn, girl, you look good. And these must be the Furies. Afternoon. Now, you said you needed space to store something? Just so happens, we have a manager's special, five bucks for the first month."
Lya hops out of the van and brandishes a bottle in one hand as she spreads her arms wide. "Rusty! It's been too long... probably because I've gone straight," she jokes.
Orithia looks at Lya with a raised brow as she hops out of the van and the other Furies follow suit.
"You know what I mean..." Lya mutters.
"Love what you've done to the place, Rusty... looks like you guys have been doing well! Must be all those shows about picking and pawning, eh? I've got five bucks and a bottle with your name on it if we can get this hulking thing somewhere secure," she says as she gestures to the sarcophagus sticking out of the back of the van.
"But first... ladies, meet Rusty, the go-to man in Las Vegas whether you need to find something or make it disappear. Rusty, meet Klepto, Phoebe, Orithia and Toxic, the talented ladies of my band and my best friends."
"Mi casa es su casa!" Rusty smiles broadly. He ambles over to the van with a slight limp. He runs his hand across the lid of the sarcophagus. "And what, exactly, is this, apart from a big metal box that looks like a coffin out of some Dark Shadows ripoff?"
"You're not that far off, actually," Lya chuckles. "We've got this baby on loan from a bunch of dusty professors so we can use it as a set piece for this concert we've got coming up... but damn if we can't find a place to keep it in the meantime."
"Got you covered. Let's get this baby tucked away, and then we can visit for a few," Rusty tells you. He handles everything personally, overseeing loading the sarcophagus onto a fork lift and moving it out to the yard. The locker is covered by no less than two security cameras.
Back at the barn, you take an elevator up to the office level. Rusty's office is more like the Rusty you remember, a bit disheveled with a patina of use and an air of reliability. The furnishings are an odd mix of antique and re-purposed items.
"Pull up a chair," he says, settling down at his desk. He pulls a drawer out and props his foot up on it. "So, what's the real story behind the box?"
Lya grabs two coffee mugs and starts opening the bottle of Elijah Craig 21-Year-Old Single Barrel she brought with her. "Trust me, Rusty... you're going to want a drink first."
She pours two cups and hands one to Rusty before grabbing a chair and turning it around so she can rest her elbows on the back of it when she sits down. "To old friends... and better times," she mutters before raising her glass and taking a big sip of it.
She then runs a hand through her hair and sighs. "OK... what would you think if I told you that sarcophagus belonged to a rich megalomaniac who thinks he's the prophet for the end times, and me and some friends took it from him in the hopes that we could stop his plans of royally fucking up the party for everyone?"
"Whatever happens in Vegas," he laughs, then falls silent for a long moment.
"Prophets. End times," he snorts. "Purging fire, God's wrath, blah, blah, blah. It ain't that I got it all figured out, Lya, or that I don't believe things are gonna end."
"Humans are a wasteful, messy lot when it comes to it," he says, jerking a thumb in the general direction of the junk yard. "This rich megalomaniac have a name?"
"Get this... his name is Lyman. I mean come on... it's like these days people need them to wear a sign that says 'Scam Artist' on it because they don't understand subtlety anymore."
She takes another drink and breathes out satisfyingly. "Mmmn... that's good stuff."
"I get that times are bad, Rusty... I really do... but there isn't any great Restart Button in the sky that's going to make things better the next time around when people are still going to be people, know what I mean? This is our world, for better or worse... I'm just trying to remind people that it's not too late to do something to make it better."
"Name of the game. One man's junk and all that," Rusty says. "This Lyman character, is this gonna be a Raiders of the Lost Ark thing, with the bad guys trying to steal it back?"
"I gather the professor types don't know anything about it? Maybe this is why you thought of me, Lya. The king of recycle, reuse, and re-invent. We can take it out to the furnace and melt it down, even. Make something useful out of it."
"Hard to say, honestly," Lya sighs. "The professors have no idea what it's about, and we know this guy used it in the past... but whether it's going to be important to him or us in the future we don't know." She takes another drink and chuckles. "I'm all for destroying it, myself... there's a lot of bad mojo with that hunk of junk. Best to make sure first, though."
She pulls a cigarette out of her coat and lights it before offering one to Rusty. "If a bunch of rich types start asking questions, though... don't trust them. This Lyman has his fingers in all sorts of pies from the cops to the lawyers."
"If the professor types don't know, who does?" Rusty asks. "I doubt that it'd be useful for both bringing the end of the world about stopping it. At the same time, this probably ain't like Lord of the Rings, and chucking it in the fire isn't gonna stop 'em. Slow 'em down a bit, maybe."
He takes the offered cigarette.
"How'd you get caught up in this, anyway? I mean, you've always had a knack for dancing in the storm, girl, but this seems a little ... comic bookish for you. What's next, a visit from Phil Coulson?"
"That would be a lot cooler than the stuff I have seen," Lya chuckles. "Let's just say that I finally met my Dad... and he's got issues he expects his kids to take care of." Lys sighs. "I'd tell you more, Rusty... but if the shit does hit the fan, I'd prefer if you were able to keep out of it and plead the 5th, ya know?"
"You what they say about friends," Rusty says. "A friend will bail you out of jail, while a real friend is sitting next to you saying, 'Man, we fucked up.'"
"Anyway, I gotcha. Family can be rough, sometimes," he adds. "The thing's locked up. Here's the key; the master's right here."
Rusty points at a medicine cabinet hanging on the wall, the glass cracked and pitted. He flips it open to show a tri-fold pegboard holding a series of keys, then closes everything up.
"You ever want to shoot a music video, we got the room," he smiles. "Thanks for the juice."
"I'll keep that in mind," Lya replies with a smile as she pockets the key and shakes his hand. "Enjoy the rest of the bottle on me, Rusty... and take care of yourself. Hopefully the next time we share a drink it will be because of better circumstances."
He raises his mug. "It's just like a flash flood, girl. Boom, comes out of nowhere, makes a big mess, and then ... blue skies. You take care of yourself."
(Monday Afternoon - Westview Grand / Hitoshi)
After dropping Lya off, you return to the Westview and your office suite via a private elevator. Security monitors show your executive secretary at her desk, while you can see Mika working in an adjacent office.
A precise-looking Japanese gentleman is seated in the waiting area, a slim portfolio in his hands.
Hitoshi studies the monitors for a moment then pushes a button on his desk. "Mika, could you come in here a moment please?"
It isn't long before Mika enters your office.
"Yes, Hitoshi?" she asks.
"The man in the waiting area, do you know who he is?" Hitoshi asks, one hand on his chin while the other one spins the monitor around for her to look at.
"That is Masaru Matsudaira," she says. "He was our guide during our fact-finding visit, and he is Toshiro Kimura's executive assistant. If Pacific Rim is a front for a Yakuza clan, I would also imagine that he is Kimura-san's second-in-command there, as well."
Hitoshi scratches his chin.
"I see. Thank you Mika. Please see what else you can dig up on him. I want to be armed with as much knowledge as I possibly can."
With that said, Hitoshi waits until Mika leaves, and then presses another button.
"Vanessa, I am back, please show our guest in."
He straightens a couple items on his desk that he thinks is out of place then stands beside his char waiting for the man to walk in.
Vanessa shows your guest in shortly thereafter.
"Good Afternoon, Ryder-san," he says, bowing. He presents his business card. "I am Masaru Matsudaira, executive assistant to Toshiro Kimura. I have a draft of the memorandum of agreement pertaining to the merger between the Westview Group and Pacific Rim."
The document is standard business practice, setting forth the terms under which the merger is to be negotiated, and under which the involved parties may withdraw.
Hitoshi returns the bow. "Matsudaira-san, welcome to my Casino. I apologize, but was uninformed of your visit. Clearly someone in my establishment has some explaining to do. However, since you are here now, would you care for some refreshments?"
He takes the document and sets it on his desk after glance over it for a second, deciding to observe Japanese custom first rather than get down to business.
"An apology is unnecessary, Ryder-san," he answers. "It was felt that this aspect of the merger should be handled face-to-face, rather than through an e-mail or phone call."
He bows again as you offer refreshment. "Thank you. That is most considerate of you."
Hitoshi pushes a button on his desk. "Vanessa, could you brings us..." He turns toward Matsudaira. 'What would like?"
"Tea would be welcome," Matsudaira smiles. "Domo. Kimura-san is not anticipating any complications with the merger, but we nonetheless wish to proceed with a measure of caution. It is new territory for us."
Hitoshi nods. "Vanessa, two Oolong Tea's, Hot. Put some surga, lemon, and milk on the side please."
He releases the button, and motions for the other man to sit down. "So, where will you be staying, and how long, and if it's not with us, allow me to remedy that situation quickly."
"Such generosity is not necessary, Ryder-san," Matsudaira tells you. "Kimura-san has property in Las Vegas, and I am staying there. You have my card, and that includes numbers for my office in Japan, and a domestic number for America. If I am abroad, the call is handled by an answering service."
"Are we on schedule?"
"Yes," Lyman told his colleague. "How's the Congressional seat feel?"
"Rather like that damned rope," Wolf said harshly. "Uncomfortable."
"Do you want me to save the Son of Tyr for you?"
"I believe my daughter has plans for him," came the answer. The vivid image of fangs and the rending, tearing sound that came to Jason Lyman's mind had little to do with his colleague in Washington. Of Wolf's daughters, there was no doubt in Lyman's mind that 'Soleil Hunter' was the more vicious of the two. And that was with both of them being restrained by their 'mortal' identities.
"Inaugural dinner?" asked Miranda.
"Let's use the Westview, again," Bob Malcolm suggested. "Make things easier on the security detail. Governor, Senators, other members of Congress – well, at least my Republican colleagues. Colonel Ellison. House Speaker Montgomery. Might as well be nice to the man before I take his job and push him down the Capitol steps."
"The President, even though he's likely to decline?"
"Mmph," Malcolm gave a grudging assent. He didn't particularly like the sitting Chief Executive and had sparred frequently with the one-time Congressman from Virginia. But a veneer of civility was a political necessity, as they often were in attendance at the same events.
"It took slightly longer than I thought," James told Hitoshi, "But we have an agreement. The legal team will present copies to all of the board members and observe a reasonable period for comment, then draft a Memorandum of Agreement that puts the terms into effect while the clerical end is handled – printing, translation, proofreading, signatures, the like."
He reached into his briefcase. "Your copy, Hitoshi. And the Japanese translation."
Hitoshi takes the documents. "Thanks James. Anything come from looking into Pac Rim?"
He leans back in his chair and sips on his tea as he looks over the documentation.
"There is no doubt in my mind that they are a Yakuza clan, though I do not know which one," Sokatsu says. "Their books, of course, are clean and would pass examination at most levels. We've gone beyond that. There is only so much one can do to hide those expenditures that cannot be made public. Generous expense accounts and quarterly bonuses are ... more Western than the traditional Japanese business model."
"However, their hands are clean in regards to activities that would cause problems for the Westview Group. There are indications that Pacific Rim has exerted pressure through protection rackets and influence peddling, but they have no involvement in drugs or human trafficking of any form.
James pauses.
"The question for you is this: Pacific Rim could easily have acquired other assets within Japan. Seeking a merger with Westview is not necessary for their financial health or corporate well-being. It is being done for a specific reason, and, short of calling Chairman Kimura, I am at a loss to discern what that reason may be."
"Huh." Hitoshi takes a sip of his tea again.
"Well I guess we are going through with it then. We will have to see what the reasons Pac Rim chose us as they come along then. What day is the meeting set for to sign?"
"Figure on a week for the other board members to review the language or simply agree with the summary of our legal team," James says. "A vote as a mere formality. The only required signatures are those of yourself and Chairman Kimura, so we can easily close this out before Christmas and without inconveniencing anyone on the Board of Directors that may have holiday travel plans."
"Sounds like a plan." Hitoshi says standing up. He sets his tea down and holds out his hand.
"Thanks James, I think with your help things are going well. We should meet for lunch some time, My treat of course."
"Thank you, Hitoshi. At least the negotiations are here in Vegas, rather than in Tokyo," James smiles. "I will keep you informed about any feedback from the board. I expect Mason to relay any criticism or comments through one of his supporters, rather than talk to you or I."
Hitoshi snorts.
"Yes, well Mason will need to learn to come to me with any concerns despite him not liking me. I'm not going have any of his childish behavior such as not talking to me. Either he comes to me, or I'll simply leave him out of the equation. We only need a two thirds vote to pass anything on the board agenda. The sooner he realizes this, the better. If his childish antics hurt this company, I'll find a way to cut him loose."
He leans against his desk. "Speaking of that James, find a way that can be done and ready the paperwork. I want it as an ace in the hole should he get stupid."
"I will begin by looking at his allies on the board," Sokatsu says. "Weakest link, and all that. Also, with that in mind, and with the merger on the table, I conducted a review of your assets for financial and security vulnerabilities. Absent your dancing naked in the fountain at the Bellagio, there are no concerns."
"I suspect, however, that Mason will be looking to acquire allies, both on the board and in the financial sector."
James looks at you directly, and you understand the implication that simply removing Mason from the board may not be enough to prevent him from being a thorn in your side, but James is mindful enough not to say such in plain speech.
Hitoshi sighs. "James, we've known each other long enough for you to be able to be forward with me, I know that look. What's your worry?"
"Gregory Mason has sufficient resources to be an irritant whether or not he is seated on the board of directors," he says after a moment's consideration. "I would counsel you that any effort to unseat him should also be concerned with limiting whatever damage he might do from the outside."
Hitoshi nods. "And this is why I keep you around. You see things that I might not always see. Lets find out how much outside influence he has, I want damage limited as much as possible. This is of course IF We have to unseat him."
James laughs. "Hitoshi-san, in my estimation, it is not if, but when. As I mentioned earlier, your financial house is in order, and there are no security vulnerabilities in Westview's infrastructure. Not to mention which, you are poised to acquire additional resources from Pacific Rim. They have their own cybersecurity department, and I imagine they will regard any hostile intent directed at Westview to be a threat to their own principals."
"Well that could always be a plus." Hitoshi says grinning.
"Well James, I'm thinking if Lunch, would you care to join me? I know this amazing greasy spoon of a diner that has amazing strawberry shakes and Burgers piled high with everything."
He closes down the desk computer, watching as the single monitor slides back into the desktop. "Vanessa, I am headed out to lunch, I shall be back in about an hour and a half," he declares over the intercom.
He pauses, and then pushes the other button. "Miko, I am headed out to lunch, care to join me?""
"Of course, Hitoshi," Mika answers. "Are we dining at the Westview, or do I need to call ahead somewhere else and have the car brought around?"
"I'll be driving my own car. You and James can ride with me."
The drive to the Soul Food Diner is routine.
"Oho," James laughed. "This is not what I would call a greasy spoon."
"I've never been here," Mika admitted. "You're being followed."
James laughed and nodded as if the group were sharing a joke. "Yes. I saw the car a few blocks back. I didn't get a glimpse of the driver or any passengers, though."
Hitoshi's eyes flicked to the rear view mirror, but that's all that happened as he pulled into the parking lot.
"Huh. Well I missed them. Mika, who do you think they are?" He parks the car and gets out like nothing is going on, and holds the door for James to get out of the Back seat. Mika, got to ride up front.
"Yea, this place is great guys, Best food in town, though eventually it might kill you due to clogged arteries, but hey, live fast, die young, leave a damn good looking corpse, am I right?" He pulls out his cane and uses it t lean on while the others get out.
"They're not complete novices," Mika says. "They didn't follow too close. I noticed them when they rushed through a yellow light. I suppose it could be someone hired by Greg Mason, but they're keeping their distance, so it's a watch-and-report job."
At first glance, the menu at the Soul Food Diner appears to be traditional diner grub. Around the clock breakfast, burgers, sandwiches, and a soup that's probably been re-warmed three times too many. But a look at the 'Today's Special' card clipped to the inside of every menu proves otherwise, with gourmet offerings that include Southern favorites such as shrimp etoufee and honest-to-goodness Kobe steaks.
"Kobe beef?" Mika says, glancing around the diner as if to re-assess her surroundings.
"The Kobe burger isn't named after the basketball player," Hitoshi grins.
"Speaking of deceptive appearances, could our friends be part of Pacific Rim?" James asks casually.
"That would be a bit creepy," Mika says. "Though I imagine Hitoshi suddenly sprouting a protective detail might give Gregory pause."
Mika's words give Hitoshi a reason to pause. "You mean If it is Pac Rim's people, they may be protecting me?"
He looks sideways up at the ceiling out of the corner of his left eye as he rubs his chin. "Mika, after we eat, I think we need to lead them on a merry chase and into a trap. I'd like to talk with them... at blade point if necessary. James, how good at you at being a rabbit?"
"The merger agreement is not yet signed," Mika points out. "So there is no value in staging an accident, fatal or otherwise."
"A rabbit?" asks James. "As in, you appear to give me instructions or a package, and I leave to take it somewhere, and as they follow me, you follow them ... or are waiting for them at a place of our choosing?"
"Well given you are former military, I figured you might be able to lose or confuse our friends there and put us in a position to surprise them," Hitoshi smiles. "Yes, this means you will get to drive my car, and I know you've wanted to for a while." His smile changes to a grin.
"Then back to the Westview and I leave again, to see if they follow?" asks James. "Do you want me to take them somewhere, or just drive around town to make a point?"
"No, I want to put them where they can't get away so we can have a nice chat. You know of any places around town that would fit that bill?" Hitoshi says. He shuts up as Maggie comes over to take their orders.
"I'll have the usual Maggs."
There's a moment where you wish you had a video camera, as James and Mika exchange a look, a combination between 'you first' and not entirely wanting to admit that, yes, they do know of such a place.
"There are a few construction sites and/or warehouses that should suit your needs," is all James says. "But, having said that, once your guests have been detained, I cannot be involved."
And, for the first time in your memory, you see something other than the efficient agent/second you have known for so many years. There's a flicker, the merest ghost of old pain.
"I understand where you are coming from James, and this time, all I want to do is actually talk. No torture, or anything like that. I just don't want them to easily be able to rabbit on us is all. I wouldn't put you in that position, I've been there myself, know what it is like." Hitoshi replies.
James scribbles an address on a napkin. It's a warehouse on the industrial end of town, near the airport, but relatively isolated. It's the kind of place favored by fictionalized Mafia thugs and secret armies ... and thus dismissed as the domain of conspiracy theorists.
"Anything else?"
"Only to eat, then get them to follow us. After we have them there, you can leave should you need to. I'm not going to make you stay James." Hitoshi replies smiling.
"I suggest that we stop briefly at the Westview," said James. "This is a two- or three- car job, with you and Mika trailing to make sure they don't have friends."
Hitoshi nods. "Alright then, let's eat up."
Their meal concluded, Hitoshi drove back to the Westview and into the garage, a floor reserved for casino employees and the Board of Directors. Quickly, Hitoshi got out of the car, doffed his jacket, and tossed his car keys to James.
"Not a scratch, now," he winked.
"Trust me," James said with an exaggerated smile.
He put on Hitoshi's coat, donned the sunglasses that had been sitting in the dashboard well, and pulled up to the exit ramp, waiting for them.
In the meantime, Mika had gone to her own car, an Acura RSX Type-R. Hitoshi could tell from the sound of the engine that she'd had work done on it.
"Who did the work?" he asked.
"Ex-boyfriend," Mika said. "I switched back to regular tires before driving here from the Bay Area. Parts of Interstate 80 are nothing but potholes."
She took a moment to tie her hair back, then wrapped a scarf around her head. There was a baseball cap sitting on the mid-body arm. Mika would be able to change her appearance several times over the course of their drive.
"Seatbelt, please," she said. "Just in case."
James left first. A moment later, Hitoshi's bluetooth earbud pinged.
"Same car," James said. "Four men."
Hitoshi looked at Mika, who nodded.
"We have them," he said. "When you hit South Vegas, try and lose them. Nothing too serious."
The maneuvers weren't so much so that James could lose the tail as to shake loose any backup vehicles that might be in play.
"Okay, here we go," James said. He sped up slightly, made several turns that doubled back on his path. It was a convincing performance of someone who had been taught how to lose a tail, but didn't quite know what to look for in the first place. "They fell back. There. Still with me."
"No backup," Mika said. "Reel 'em in."
James proceeded to the address he'd given Hitoshi. The warehouse was protected with a key box, and James punched in the access code. He pulled the warehouse door open, and drove inside.
The warehouse/hangar was dark enough that all you could see from the outside was a shadow. James got out of the car and leaned against the hood, making a show of waiting for someone. Checking his watch. Miming a phone call.
Mika sped forward and stopped at an angle to the watchers' car. Hitoshi was already in motion, springing out of the vehicle and whipping Honsho up against the driver's neck.
"Konichiwa," he said. "Let's take this out of public view. Your buddies get out of the car and walk inside the warehouse. You drive the car in after them. Don't be stupid."
Hitoshi watches as the man drives the car inside and gets out of the car.
"Okay, everyone into the office." He escorts them inside at sword point and looks around at the abandoned couches and chairs.
"Sit. Please." His gaze flickers over the men as he notes they are all Japanese.
"James, you may leave now should you wish. Leave my car back at the Casino. Thank you for the help."
The quartet of watchers do as they are instructed, each bowing to you before they take a seat.
"I ... will wait outside," James says, letting you know that he is available for backup.
"Hitoshi-san, I apologize for the insult," says the driver.
Hitoshi laughs. "Insult? Fuck man, I missed you, Mika and James are the ones that picked you up behind us. No insult taken, you're good. Still, it begs the question, WHY are you following me?"
"We are with Pacific Rim's executive security branch," he explains. "Kimura-san asked that we extend our protection to you, as well. We understand that American executives are not accustomed to such practices, and that you have two observant and capable people in your employ explains why."
"Huh. Is that so? Well that explains that then."
He pulls out and lights up a smoke, holding the pack out to the men, and then to Mika.
"So, what exactly are your orders? I ask this because I'm dealing with some weird shit right now."
"Primarily to observe," the driver tells you, "although we are authorized to use force if it is necessary to protect our principal. You. Does this 'weird shit' pose a threat to your well-being?"
Hitoshi shrugs. "Some stupid street gang has it out for me and my friends. You kick one gang out of a diner because they are starting shit, and suddenly they keep trying to ruin your day. These guys really are too stupid for their own good. As of yet, it hasn't been anything I couldn't handle."
He takes a long drag and lets the smoke trickle from the side of his mouth. He wasn't about to tell these guys the full story, but if they were there to protect him, then they had a right to be warned... somewhat.
"_Boryokudan,_" says one of the protective detail. There is laughter, and it is not the kind of laughter born of overconfidence, but of seasoned professionals. There are no boasts, no flashing of weapons, just that corner-of-the-eyes smile. Your sensei would occasionally wear the same expression, and it was usually evident just before he cleaned the dojo floor with a student.
"It is entirely up to you, Hitoshi-san, how visible you wish us to be," the driver tells you.
* 'Boryokudan' are young gang members, often motorcycle riders, who trash shops and otherwise threaten violence against merchants and residents.
Hitoshi shrugs. "I don't care what you do, just know that if you follow me, you might end up in over your head, and I might Call you up to help out in situations. If I am going to have you then I am certainly going to use you if need be."
He pulls out his cellphone and tosses it to the man talking. "Contact number if you please."
The driver enters the number and his name, but also presents his business card in traditional fashion as he returns your phone.
"We are available 24/7," he says. "Even for situations which may be 'over our heads.' This is not about our comfort, Hitoshi-san. It is about your personal safety."
Hitoshi accepts both the phone and business card with a bow.
"Very well then. Know that I will use you. I believe this meeting is finished. Tell your boss that coming to me directly and explaining the situation would have negated the need for this meeting in the first place."
"Kimura-san has his reasons," the driver answers. "Arigato, Hitoshi-san."
Hitoshi bows back and walks to the car. "Mika, we are done here."
He stops next to James. "Huh. Apparently Pac Rim wants to protect it's new asset. I have Bodyguards." He claps James on the shoulder.
"Anyways man, Thanks for the Help. I owe you one."