demanded. There wasn’t much time. Already in the distance there were more sirens.
Igarshi snarled something in Japanese and lunged upward, grabbing the barrel of McGarvey’s pistol. The gun discharged, the bullet entering the man’s forehead, his head bouncing off the gravel path and his eyes filling with blood.
He’d committed suicide!
McGarvey recoiled and then looked up as a heavyset man built like a Sherman tank came charging down the main concourse. He looked like a wild animal.
Stepping back, McGarvey brought up his pistol in both hands and crouched in the shooter’s stance. Heidinora stopped in his tracks ten feet away. He was unarmed, an expression of pure hatred on his round, rough-featured face. The sirens were much closer now, and it was clear that he heard them.
“I don’t want to kill you, but I will not leave Tokyo until I have answers,” McGarvey said.
Heidinora backed up, his hands spread in a gesture of peace.
“Remember my face,” McGarvey said, lowering his pistol. “I’ll want answers to my questions.”
Heidinora nodded once, then turned on his heel and walked off. Holstering his pistol, McGarvey turned in the opposite direction and headed out the gate to Harumi-dori Avenue.
BOOK THREE
Chapter 30
A gentle sea breeze ruffled the potted flowers on the veranda of the villa that overlooked the Principality of Monaco and the azure Mediterranean. Surrounded by fragrant eucalyptus trees, the expansive, low, stuccoed house was enclosed within a tall concrete fence topped with glass shards. Doberman pinschers patrolled the grounds at night, and along with a sophisticated system of extremely low-light-capable closed-circuit television monitors, the Villa Ambrosia was a relatively secure fortress without being ostentatiously so.
Ernst Spranger, dressed in sandals, white slacks and a bright yellow short-sleeved Izod, came out to the veranda to greet his guest who’d just been announced. The short, slightly built man stood at the low rail, looking at a half-dozen sailboats in the distance. It was just eight in the morning, and Spranger was in a pensive mood in part because of the events, or lack of events, over the past few days, and in part because of this man’s unexpected presence.
“Your coming here today may cause us a problem, unless you took care not to be seen,”
Spranger said.
The Japanese man turned around and smiled. “You should not worry about such inconsequential details when there are so many other things to be concerned about, Herr Spranger.”
Spranger crossed the veranda and shook hands with the man. “Nonetheless, Mr. Endo, I trust you took the proper precautions.”
“Naturally.”
“You understand that we have other clients who must also be protected.”
The expression in Endo’s eyes was unfathomable, but he did not stop smiling. “My message will be brief, but let us sit down together as friends, still.”
Liese was watching and listening from a room in the rear that contained the villa’s security equipment. Later they would go over the tape together to make sure neither of them had missed anything.
The Italian houseboy served them tea when they were settled and after he withdrew, Endo pushed his cup aside and sat forward.
“Tell me what progress you have made concerning Mr. McGarvey. It is still our wish to stop the man.”
“We have temporarily lost direct track of him in Washington. My people there think he may have left the area, but at this point we’re still not certain. In any event, it’s not our intention to confront him directly… and certainly not on his home ground.”
“Your intentions are…?”
“To lure him back to Europe, of course, where we will set up a killing zone of our own choosing.”
“When and where will this be accomplished?”
“The when is very soon, but to answer your question about where is more complicated.
We have reliable intelligence that McGarvey may be an extraordinary man who might not be so easily cornered and killed. First he must be given an incentive to do what we wish, and then he must be softened up. But the odds are with us. We’ll stack them that way.”
“Are you afraid of this man?”
Spranger bridled at the question. “Of course not.”
Endo shook his head. “You should be, Herr Spranger.”
“What do you mean?”
“Mr. McGarvey is presently in Tokyo, where he gunned down three of our people in cold blood. And in broad daylight, I might add, with all of the odds, as you say, stacked against him. Now the police are investigating us as well as the Americans.
It is an intolerable situation. One which we have paid your organization a great deal of money to prevent.”
The news was stunning. Spranger needed time to think. “Has he gone back to work for the CIA?”
“The fact that he was so recently in Washington makes that a distinct possibility.
As does the fact that he was seen with a woman who has been identified as the mistress of two CIA officers.”
“Who are these men?”
“The chief of station and his assistant,” Endo said. “We eliminated both of them.”
“Verdammt,” Spranger swore. “Is the CIA investigating your operation?”
“That is no concern of yours, Herr Spranger. This man must be made to leave Tokyo.
Immediately.”
“If you’re being investigated by the CIA, if they are making the connection between you and what happened in Paris, then our entire contract is in grave jeopardy.”
“The connection has not been made as yet. But time is of the essence. You must lure McGarvey out of Japan immediately.”
“It may take some time,” Spranger said, his thoughts racing. “There are certain details still to be worked out.”
“Work them out,” Endo said, standing. “You have twenty-four hours in which to do it.”
Spranger looked up. “Or else?”
“We will cancel our contract with you, and demand an immediate repayment of all monies we’ve paid to date.”
“Don’t threaten me,” Spranger warned.
“Our reach is much longer than you would think,” the Japanese said. “Do this for us and you will be a wealthy man. Fail and you will die.”
Endo turned and left the veranda. His car and driver had waited in front for him.
Liese, wearing a stunningly revealing string bikini, came out of the house a moment later, and sat down across from Spranger. She was smiling.
“Why the hell did the bastard go to Tokyo?” Spranger asked. “What the hell is he playing at now?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Liese said.
Spranger focused on her. “What are you talking about?”
