SEVENTEEN

The Sasaki Bathhouse was located just five blocks west of the Kojima-gumi building. As such, it had always been a popular leisure spot for the older members of the Kojima-gumi in Panama City. The elder shatei would often meet up there after work to unwind, and put themselves in a more positive frame of mind before returning to their families for the night. They knew it was best for them not to bring the stresses of work home if they wanted their marriages to survive.

Inside the bathhouse, the four shatei in attendance tonight had all changed into white robes, relaxing their weary muscles in the sweltering heat of the facility’s sauna.

“I tell you all one thing right now: Kenji Kojima is not half the man his father is,” the bitter, long-jawed Nagamora spoke with anger. “He is young, arrogant and ill-disciplined! How such a man can ever be the next in line to lead us I will never know! It is pure madness!”

Nagamora was one of those people who always found it difficult to keep his opinions to himself, and he hated it when others disagreed with him about anything. He would always keep silent during any formal meetings, but then complain endlessly afterwards. A typical whinger. Not surprisingly, none of the others had wanted him to come tonight.

“It’s not our place to judge,” said Tomo Retsuda, a much older man with hair as white as freshly fallen snow. “Regardless of whether or not we agree with the decision, the council have spoken; when the time comes for Kazuo to step down, Kenji will succeed him. It is tradition, not choice, just as it always has been.”

“Exactly,” said Dawa Warmoda, the eldest man in the room at 81 years. “And besides, who here amongst us can honestly say that we weren’t all equally arrogant in our younger years? Give Kenji time; he will start to mature once he is given more responsibilities; he will have to. His arrogance and disrespectful nature are both traits that will fade with youth.”

But Nagamora was clearly not convinced. “I hope for all our sakes that you’re right, Dawa-san. Perhaps I’m just blind, but I can’t ever see that young brat shaping himself into anything that resembles leader.”

There were a few murmurs, but nobody seemed willing to argue the point further.

Nagamora turned across the room to Yoda Kai then, who was the only man present yet to comment. “Well, what says you, Kai-san? Are we screwed, or are we royally screwed?”

Yoda Kai shrugged. “The Kojima-gumi has it’s traditions to follow, and we must respect them. Now, enough of this; debating this issue any further will only give poor old Dawa-san here a heart attack.”

“Ha, speak for yourself, Kai-san!” Dawa smirked. “I’m ready to go ten rounds with a young woman tonight!”

“You mean your wife?”

“Of course not!”

At that moment there was a loud knock on the sauna door.

“Yes?” Retsuda answered on the group’s behalf, being the one closest to the door.

“My apologies, I know you did not wish to be disturbed, but I have Fujita-san out here,” said a man named Shiina, who was one of the two wakacku guards stationed right outside the door for security. “He says he’d like a word with all of you. Should I let him in, or would you rather him wait out here until you’re all done?”

Ichi Fujita, the Smiling Assassin. Retsuda glanced around the sauna. Every single one of his colleagues was glaring back at him with disapproval, none more so than Yoda Kai who was known to have a rather turbulent history with Fujita. The man had been Kai’s son-in-law. That was until Fujita had broken his daughter’s jaw during a typical marriage spat. The injuries Fujita had sustained as a result of Kai’s retribution were the very reason he always appeared to be smiling.

“Okay, Shiina-san,” Retsuda said at last. “If it’s important, you can send him in now.”

The others all growled and hissed in annoyance as the door opened and Ichi Fujita walked inside with his hands behind his back, looking as jovial as always. Fujita bowed courteously to each of the four shatei present, even to Yoda Kai, who was the only man not to return his gesture.

“Gentlemen, as always, it’s a pleasure.”

“It’s now after hours, Fujita-san,” said Kai, not even trying to mask the hatred he still felt for the man. “This had all better be pretty fucking important!”

Fujita just ignored his hater for the moment, his cheerful eyes looking around to each of the other three men in the room. “I come here tonight on behalf of our new kumicho. As his first act in charge, he requires that you all do something very important for him.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Yoda Kai growled. “New kumicho?!”

Suddenly then the door to the sauna burst open and three Haitian gunmen raced inside with assault rifles and shotguns in hand. They took up their positions around Fujita — the skeleton-faced Orlando Nesta and his partner Jean Raymond among them.

“Die,” Fujita finished his sentence. “That is all he asks of you.”

A second later the entire sauna was filled with explosions of gunfire. The four shatei inside never stood a chance; one by one they were all shot to pieces.

“Bleed, you yellow kochon fucks, bleed!” Orlando Nesta howled in bloodthirsty delight as he exploded Yoda Kai’s head with a well-aimed blast of his shotgun.

When at last the shooting stopped and everyone was dead, Fujita took out a phone from his coat and dialled a number.

“Is it done?” asked the man who picked up on the other end.

“Yes,” said Fujita. “You’re clear to proceed on your end.” He watched on as the Jean Raymond loaded a fresh clip into his assault rifle and put another burst into each of the four corpses for good measure.

“Good work, Fujita-san. You will be well rewarded for this.”

“I know I will,” Fujita acknowledged, and then he hung up. Behind him, the three Haitian gunmen quickly finished checking the bodies and then left without so much as saying a word. After they were gone, the two wakacku guards who had been stationed outside came in to talk with Fujita.

“Shiina-san,” Fujita said to the guard on the left, “I want you to call this in to HQ and then wait here, just in case anyone from the Kojima-gumi decides to come check things out. This all has to look genuine.”

Shiina nodded obediently.

“Ishikawa-san,” he said to the other one, who had bleached-blond hair. “You’re with me; we’re needed back at the Kojima building for the next phase of the plan.”

The guard man named Shinna waited for Ishikawa and Fujita to leave. After they were gone, Shiina dropped down to his knees and levelled the barrel of his micro-Uzi against his shoulder, closing his eyes tightly in painful anticipation. He cried out as he fired off a five round burst straight through himself, his blood spraying out all over the four corpses behind him.