‘Hey,’ Caine shouted in Japanese. ‘That’s not enough. What are you trying to pull here?’
It wasn’t true, but he knew he had to get their attention if he was going to move up the chain to Isato.
A deep voice shouted back, ‘Bakayarou, usero!’
Caine couldn’t help but smile. The voice had told him to go away, then called him an asshole.
‘Give me the rest or I call the police!’ Caine demanded.
He heard more fumbling behind the door, the sound of a latch turning. He pivoted his body towards the door as it swung open halfway. He used the momentum of his turn to launch a powerful kick at the door.
He heard a grunt of pain as the heavy metal door crashed into the person behind it. Caine immediately grabbed the edge of the money drawer, then yanked it backwards, ripping it from its socket.
The door bounced back open from the impact, and Caine stepped forward, kicking it open further. A man in a black suit staggered before him, blood gushing from his now-crushed nose.
Caine noticed two things right away. First, this man was not one of the yakuza who had walked past him in the pachinko parlor. And second, whoever he was, he was reaching across his blood-spattered shirt and slipping his hand into his jacket.
Caine charged forward, swinging the metal drawer in a powerful arc. The drawer knocked the man’s hand away from the gun, then cracked into his chin. His head snapped back, blood spraying through the air.
He tried to take a step backwards, but Caine grabbed the man’s shirt collar and pulled him in close. He drove his knee into the man’s groin twice, while slamming the metal drawer into his left side, striking the solar plexus. As the man crumpled, Caine heard a sharp crack.
Someone was shooting at him.
Using the incapacitated man to block the shots, Caine hunched low and surveyed the situation. At the far end of the room, another man in an identical black suit ducked behind a desk. Caine grabbed his hostage’s weapon as the other man popped up from behind his cover.
Crack! Crack! The other man fired again. The sound was loud but muffled, like someone clapping in a soundproofed room.
Caine felt the impact as the bullets slammed into the human shield he held in front of him. His hostage was dead weight now, and he couldn’t hold him up and still shoot. He let the body drop to the floor with a thud.
He was in fight mode now, his senses accelerated. Caine watched his assailant stand up from behind the desk in slow motion.
Caine hurled the drawer at him. The heavy chunk of metal flew through the air, smashing into the other man’s shoulder as he raised his gun to shoot. The impact threw off his aim, and Caine felt the bullets slice through the air next to his ear. He held his ground, raising his own pistol in front of him in a double-handed grip.
Crack! Crack! Crack! The pistol barked in his hands. Three crimson holes burst open in the man across the room…
***
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Thank you,
Andrew Warren