TWELVE

Kenji Kojima and Ryu had just emerged on the fifty-ninth floor of the Kojima building and taken a left down a narrow rouka passage. It was there they bumped into Kenji’s younger sister Meyoko, who was just passing by in the opposite direction.

Meyoko Kojima was a woman who had more than a few admirers in the Kojima-gumi. She had sharp, narrow eyes, full lips and long, black hair with red streaks running through it. She was wearing a white button-up silk blouse and dark skirt, looking quite the part of a secretary.

“Meyoko,” Kenji smiled. “Nice to see you, as always. Are you busy?”

“No more so than usual,” Meyoko said with a sigh. “How about you? Have you finished playing around in the dojo with your friend yet?” She glanced across to Ryu, who suddenly looked about as comfortable as a man with a pitball sniffing his crotch.

“Oh Ryu,” Meyoko smiled, finding his eyes, “you know if you two keep playing around like little school boys then my brother will never learn to grow up, don’t you?”

“Ah, yeah,” Ryu shifted his stance uncomfortably. “Sorry, Meyoko. I’m looking to improve, but your brother is a bad influence.”

“Yeah, I bet he is.” Meyoko held his eyes for a moment, then she turned back to Kenji. “Anyway, I should really get going. Suzuki-san’s new secretary needs a hand getting up to speed.”

“Then don’t let us keep you,” Kenji nodded. But then, just as Meyoko started to walk away, he added, “Oh, actually there was one more thing…”

Meyoko stopped and turned back.

“Tonight Ryu and I are heading to the Marino Club over in Calle Uruguay,” Kenji said. “We were wondering if you wanted to come too?”

Meyoko thought about it for a moment. “Sure, why not,” she smiled, glancing across at Ryu. “I haven’t been out to Calle Uruguay in a while. It could be fun.”

“Great,” Kenji said, his eyes suddenly dropping to the floor. “And since you’re coming, maybe you could ask some friends along too. Like… I don’t know, maybe Sakura?”

Meyoko raised an eyebrow. “Sakura?” But then, rather than teasing, she winked at him. “Don’t worry, I understand. I will ask her.”

Kenji breathed a sigh of relief.

“Okay, well, I guess I’ll see you both later on.” Meyoko glanced back across to Ryu just long enough to grab his attention, then with a smile she turned and walked away.

After she had left, Kenji suddenly grabbed Ryu by the shoulder pulled his friend aside. “That was sickening, Ryu. Why the hell do I have to do everything for you? Did you see that look she just gave you? It’s obvious she likes you, so what are you waiting for? Talk to her for once! Chat her up! Get her phone number! Do whatever the hell it is that you usually do!”

“I find it a bit creepy that you’re actually encouraging me to hit on your sister.”

“Meyoko deserves a good man, especially given all our family has been through. And believe it or not, Ryu, I think you are one. A bit of a pussy, sure, but still a good man.”

“Well, thanks, Kenji, I guess. I don’t know what else to say…” Ryu shrugged. “I’m just scared I’ll mess things up. Don’t tell me that you’ve never felt that way about a woman before?!”

“No, I haven’t. But that’s probably because I actually have some balls.” Kenji pushed away from his friend and continued on his way down the passage. “Anyway, you’d better be ready to make a move tonight. Because if you don’t, Ryu, then eventually someone else might. I heard this rumour going around that Daigoro has a thing for my sister too. And you know Daigoro; they don’t call him Sticky Fingers because he likes playing with glue.”

As they walked, Ryu’s hand slowly clenched up into a fist at his side.

They came to a large double door with two Yakuza guards stationed on either side of it. The guards bowed to Kenji in a traditional show of respect, then they opened up the door and allowed him and Ryu to enter the Kojima-gumi’s meeting room.

A long, narrow wooden table ran down the centre of the meeting room with fifteen chairs down each side plus one at either end. Several of the shatei had arrived early and were already seated. Upon seeing Kenji enter they each stood up and bowed to greet him. Kenji returned their gesture and then made his way over to the chair at the far end of the table, while Ryu remained standing near the door along with several other assistants.

“Greetings, gentlemen,” Kenji began, glancing around to everyone present. “We’ll wait just a few more minutes for the stragglers to arrive and then we can begin.”

***

The meeting began at 4:05pm as the last few shatei trudged in, five minutes late. They each bowed in apology. The very last one, the young, bleach-haired Goro Suzuki, had a face smeared with lipstick marks — no doubt from the ‘private meeting’ he had held earlier that morning with his new secretary. Suzuki bowed politely to Kenji then quickly took his seat at the table.

“Kind of you to join us, Suzuki-san,” Kenji said with a wink. “Maybe after the meeting you can tell us all how she tasted.”

All eyes around the table zeroed in on Suzuki, who shrivelled up awkwardly in his chair as he attempted to wipe his face clean with his shirt-sleeve.

“Now, shall we get started?” Kenji looked around the table. There were twenty shatei in total and each man held an important position running the organisation’s many operations. They each nodded.

“I’m not really in the mood for following procedures today,” Kenji said with a wave of his hand. “I have places I’d much rather be, just as I’m sure all of you do too. So, does anyone here have something they wish to report?”

Straight away a man named Suji Yamata cleared his throat to speak. As he did, most of the others sitting around the table sighed. Yamata was a man graced with the honour of organising and distributing the Kojima-gumi’s supply of cocaine from below the border. His face was stern, as always, as though he had never smiled in his life, and his hair was tied up in the traditional manner of the Samurai from days of old. Mr Fucking Serious: that’s what Kenji had started referring to Yamata as.

“Well, as I’m sure you all know,” Yamata began in his very deep voice, “from a business standpoint, these past few weeks have not been so kind to our organisation. Sales have been on a steep decline all across the board; cocaine alone has dropped by almost thirty percent and—”

“Yes, we’re all aware of current market trends,” Kenji interrupted him. “Yesterday I found that I had run out of spare hundred dollar bills to wipe my arse with. Is there a point to all this?”

There were a few chuckles from the younger men around the table. The elder members shook their heads at one another in embarrassment and disapproval.

“The point is, Kenji-san,” Yamata said, “that we need to address such problems in their budding stages, before they cause any real harm. The Kojima-gumi’s future here in this city relies on us being able to make a worthwhile profit.”

“Yes, thanks for the lesson in economics.” Kenji sat back in his chair, lifting his feet up onto the table. “The market here in Panama City has never been a stable one; it rises and falls on a weekly basis. If you want a fixed income then perhaps you should be working office hours, Yamata-san. Besides, my father’s recent trip back to Kobe was supposed to address all this. There was concern amongst some of our buyers when Fang Fu’s Triads started to intercept our shipments, but father has taken care of all that now. We have upped our security and started to strike back at the triads.”

“And we’re certain that the Paravinchi mob aren’t responsible for any of these recent drop-offs?” an elderly shatei named Takato asked. “It’s possible that they’ve been selling more of the white powder than they’re letting on. It wouldn’t be the first time they’ve tried to screw us over.”

“It’s possible, but highly unlikely,” said Kenji. “Like him or not, Don Paravinchi is a reasonable man. There is no way he would be stupid enough to try eating into our share of the market. That sort of thing would constitute an act of war, and right now that would be madness; the market, while weakening, is still quite strong, and will remain so for the foreseeable future. The peace agreement my father made with the Paravinchis has been highly profitable for both our organisations.”

“I agree,” said Ichi Fujita, the man who held the traditional place of honour at the table to Kenji’s immediate right for no reason other than the fact that nobody else was game enough to take it from him. “Paravinchi would surely never try anything that stupid. Having said that though, someone else might. I heard an interesting rumour circulating recently amongst our buyers that I feel should be discussed.”

Ichi Fujita was a man who had an unnatural-looking face; he always appeared to be smiling. It was the result of life-saving facial surgery he had undergone years earlier. But despite his friendly appearance and cheerful demeanour, everyone at the table knew that Fujita was not a man to be taken lightly in any way. Fujita was essentially a glorified hitman; he took care of all of the Kojima-gumi’s dirty work. For reasons that were obvious to all but a complete a idiot, he had earned himself a nickname: the Smiling Assassin.

“Please, feel free to share, Fujita-san,” Kenji said. “We of the Kojima-gumi love listening to rumours and spreading idle gossip.”

“The word is that Loa Lacroix and his posse are back in town,” Fujita said, ignoring the sarcasm in Kenji’s voice. “Several of our biggest buyers are worried that our deliveries will start getting intercepted if they buy from us now. They Haitians are hitting the streets with a hatchet. Several of the higher-ups in The Dublin Boys and The Russians have already been hit.”

“Lacroix and his band of mercenary pirates?” Goro Suzuki smirked. “They’re small time; always have been, always will be. They wouldn’t dare move on our operations. Not with us and the Paravinchis in cooperation. And even if they did, they wouldn’t be a problem for our combined might.”

“Perhaps not,” Fujita was quick to cut back in. “But word coming down from a few of my old contacts up in Mexico is that Loa Lacroix has found himself a new employer; a guy going by the name El Maestro. And whoever this new guy is, he must be big because none of my usual sources even wanted to speak about him. He could be using Lacroix as hired muscle to expand onto our turf.”

“And so what if he is?” Yamata shrugged. “We already have all the necessary security measures in place to handle a new rival. Any new rival. I didn’t give a shit who this guy is!”

“Fair enough,” Fujita said. “But I feel we really need to consider the bigger picture here. Nobody likes to pick sides if a gang war is brewing. Our main worry in this situation is the market. Buyers will most likely continue dropping off until this whole thing is resolved; they will wait and see who is left standing after the smoke clears. If this situation drags on for too long... well, let’s just say it won’t be good for any of us.”

There was a brief moment of silence around the meeting room. All eyes turned back to the acting kumicho, waiting for his opinion on the matter. Kenji didn’t seem to take the hint.

“Well, how do you want us to handle this, Kenji-san?” Yamata asked when no opinion was forthcoming.

Kenji snapped back to attention. He slid his feet off the table and sat up, carefully considering all his options for a moment. “The way I see it, with my father getting back tomorrow, it would be foolish for us to do anything drastic. We best leave this mess for him to deal with.”

There were a few disapproving murmurs from around the table.

“Having said that,” Kenji quickly added, “I want it known that the Kojima-gumi will retaliate in full force if we, or any of our buyers, are targeted. Spread the word around that we’re not afraid to get our hands dirty if need be!”

Several heads around the table nodded in agreement.