Chapter 1: Traitor
October 2008 – London, England.
His eyes never leaving his gun, Satoshi slid the magazine out and back in, checking he had enough ammo. Its click was drowned out by his thudding heart as his anticipation mounted. He finally lowered his hand, lifting his gaze again. He kept tapping his pistol against his thigh, waiting for the van to drive into the underground parking where the clan was supposed to meet their buyer and make the exchange.
Of course, this exchange also entailed information as to who was undermining the clan.
‘Stop being so nervous,’ Matsuo chided him with warmth in his voice. ‘You’ve trained for this.’
‘I’m not nervous,’ Satoshi retorted. ‘I’m excited. I’m impatient.’
The only indication they received was an invitation to a private meeting from a rival clan that usually minded its own business, but now promised to expose an internal threat to the clan.
This was Satoshi’s first real mission now that he was of age. Before tonight, in the months leading to this moment since his eighteenth birthday, Satoshi had been trusted with simple tasks, and nothing that could become dangerous were things to go awry. It was an honour to represent the clan with the others and be trusted with the task of protecting them like the mindful soldier he had been trained to be.
‘Well, you look nervous, and that makes the rest of us look bad in the eyes of our enemies and rivals, not to mention our allies.’
Matsuo Kawata was his mentor, a friend nine years older than him whom he regarded as a brother, since his three actual brothers were far older than him. Satoshi valued Matsuo’s opinion and valued his feedback.
Not to mention he was always finely dressed, finely coiffed, his hair gelled to the side most of the time. Meanwhile, Satoshi’s hair was longer, always a bit more dishevelled, parting it to one side, and he often wore jumpers when he wasn’t meant to be meeting clan rivals. The very image of a younger brother to an older and more mature role model.
Tonight, they all wore suits, however, which hid the kanji they all had tattooed below their clavicles, kanji that represented Nakamoto Clan.
‘Little Toto’s first job and he can’t sit still.’ This more clipped chide came from Takuya, and it was not playful.
Takuya Onati was a wanker at the best of times, stern and scowling from under his thick eyebrows, and always had jibes ready on his tongue to insult Satoshi, always picking on the youngest soldier of the clan, even if this youngest soldier was as tall as he was.
Satoshi may not have been as seasoned as the rest of them were, for he was young still, but to be thus insulted by a soldier who had recently been denied becoming a general, was beyond insulting.
‘I wouldn’t be so quick to insult me, Takuya,’ Satoshi retorted through clenching teeth.
'Just follow orders, be a good soldier, and don’t make Nakamoto Clan look bad.’
Satoshi gritted his teeth, face crinkling with barely contained frustration. At least Takuya had not dared to insult Satoshi’s father’s name.
Ichiro Kono had made quite the reputation for himself when he joined Nakamoto Clan as a young man and had become a well-respected general favoured by their leader, Susumu Nakamoto. Ichiro died protecting Susumu. Satoshi Kono of Nakamoto Clan would do anything to ensure he was as respected as his father had been, if not more so.
He allowed himself a moment of pride, and smirked, wanting to put Takuya in his place for treating him like a child. While he was a fresh-faced eighteen-year-old and this was his first mission to meet a rival clan leader who could become a potential ally, he had been working behind the scenes for the clan.
Satoshi let his disdain towards Takuya seep into his tone. ‘Actually, I have been working on a way to make profit for the clan.’
Profit meant more resources, more influence, more respect, more power.
‘Market manipulation only works if you have the money for it,’ Takuya clapped back.
Satoshi was seething again. He would ensure he had the money for it, even if it meant he had to create his own currency…which he was still coding.
Matsuo squeezed his shoulder, leaning in, and whispered, ‘Don’t let Takuya rile you up. We need calm for this exchange. If we twitch, a gunfight may ensue. Just follow my lead, just as in our practices.’
Satoshi nodded as the driver slowed the van and parked. Securing their weapons in their holsters, the Yakuza soldiers filed out through the van’s back door, shutting it with a loud thud.
Matsuo carried a black business briefcase in one hand, whose contents was secured with an intricate combination lock. He did not set it down when he stopped to wait for their adversary.
Takuya walked past Satoshi, purposely nudging him hard with his shoulder, forcing the younger Yakuza to stumble forward. He clenched his jaw, balling his hands into fists, and seething.
Upon a meaningful look from Matsuo, who raised an eyebrow at him, Satoshi took a deep breath to steady himself.
He scanned the warehouse parking lot from left to right, noting the several parked cars, the wide circular pillars, and any inconspicuous corners that the dim light cast upon to reveal any shadows hidden within. He noted another van similar to theirs, black as well, a smaller white van, a few colourful sports cars that seemed to stand out amidst the rest, and four long shadows sticking out from behind the other black van near one of the pillars.
From behind the round pillar, several men emerged, all of them also Japanese, also Yakuza. These were the soldiers or generals of Yoshikawa Clan, and walking a step ahead of the group, Satoshi knew, was the middle-aged leader, Hideo Yoshikawa, clad in a fine business suit that looked flexible enough to move around and fight in, but tight enough to showcase his muscular build and intimidating form.
Satoshi noted that the shadows by the other clan’s van remained. This meant they had a backup hidden away.
He absently tapped a finger against his thigh, his jaw ticking.
Takuya leaned towards Saroshi, whispering, ‘I hope you know how to use that pistol if things go south, Toto. We wouldn’t want our youngest soldier who spends more time in front of his computer than training to die on his first job, would we?’
‘Don’t threaten me,’ Satoshi growled, keeping his voice quiet enough as to not draw attention to their exchange.
Takuya straightened and plastered a smile across his face as the members of Yoshikawa Clan stopped before them. Hideo, standing a step in front of his men, scrutinised their group from under his nose, chin tilted up.
‘I see you brought fresh blood. Who’s the baby koi?’
‘That matters not,’ Matsuo said, stepping forward. ‘You said you had information regarding a member betraying our clan?’
‘Payment first.’
Matsuo lifted the briefcase and held it level with the floor. As he keyed in the combination on either side of the handle, the others waited in silence. A soft click indicated he was done. He opened the briefcase to show the money.
‘Very good.’ Hideo began counting the bills. Everyone remained quiet and alert.
‘Someone has been syphoning funds to us from your clan in the name of forming an alliance,’ Hideo offered, lifting his eyes to scan the reactions among the group, all while sifting through the wads of cash in the briefcase.
Satoshi couldn’t help but snort in his throat from discontent. This meant these men were receiving double the payment now.
‘We would like to offer,’ Hideo went on, ‘an alliance based in honesty. We help you track down your traitor, and you ally with Yoshikawa Clan.’
‘What purpose would this traitor be served to syphon funds to you if we are to align anyway?’ Takuya asked.
‘Exactly. Why indeed?’ Hideo replied deliberately. 'This person seems to want a secret alliance, for him to be our inside man. While we prefer a full alliance. We do have a code of honour that we follow.’
‘That is very noble of you.’ Satoshi said it without thinking. He half meant it, though. The information revealed meant Yoshikawa Clan either lacked resources, or was looking to expand its influence.
The man paused, placing the wad of cash he was holding back into the briefcase, and turned his gaze to the young Yakuza soldier. He took a few deliberate steps towards him, taking his chin between his fingers to turn this one’s face from side to side.
‘How old are you?’
Satoshi held back the urge to roll his eyes, and instead, shifted his weight slightly from foot to foot. ‘I am eighteen.’
Hideo nodded, letting go of him. ‘I was your age when I started doing missions as well. Tell me, did they bring you along thinking for you to take a back seat?’
Satoshi shifted his weight. He felt as though he was being tested.
‘You don’t have to answer that,’ Matsuo murmured in warning.
‘Yes.’ Satoshi straightened, meeting Hideo’s gaze head-on. ‘I may be a koi compared to you, but I am well-trained.’ Satoshi stood at his tallest, back straight, shoulders down, head held high.
‘Good. Then you shall be the one to answer my next question.’
A ripple of excitement rushed through Satoshi’s body, and he resisted the urge to smirk in condescension at Takuya. He had been offered a chance to prove himself, yet this opportunity was also a responsibility. He would honour his father’s name and reputation by answering in such a way that would put the clan first.
Hideo whipped out his gun, pulling back the safety, and pointed it straight at Matsuo’s forehead; Matsuo, who still held the briefcase of money and had no time to react.
Satoshi was the fastest, whipping out his pistol and taking a step forward to press it to Hideo’s temple. All others present also drew their guns; the Nakamoto soldiers aimed them at Hideo’s men, while the Yoshikawa soldiers aimed theirs at Satoshi and the others.
Everyone, except for Hideo, held their guns with a hand beneath their gun hand to steady their grips. Hideo’s hold was steady, and more disciplined. If a shootout ensued, the odds were not on Nakamoto Clan’s side.
Satoshi also suspected those still in the shadows had their weapons ready as well.
Hideo chuckled. ‘Very good.’
Satoshi was a bit taken aback by that reaction. The man was pleased Satoshi had trained his weapon on him?
Hideo resumed. ‘My question is this: If I shoot now, would you shoot me and stain this money, stain this alliance?’
‘If I shoot you in the head, it would stain the money, and we would never learn the name of the traitor. If I lower my aim, I can incapacitate you, and we may yet negotiate and have answers.’
Satoshi noticed how the others seemed calm, except for two present who twitched nervously, their jaws ticking. This painted them as suspects on Satoshi’s list of who might be this mystery traitor syphoning money to Yoshikawa Clan.
‘This is a test, isn’t it?’ Satoshi deduced, still not relaxing. Hideo might have his own reasons for testing the young soldier. Satoshi might yet find out.
‘Perhaps,’ replied Hideo, eyes always on Matsuo. ‘And if I betrayed the ally from whom I agreed to accept money and claimed I was staring right at him?’
