the brothers. Kitano was an enforcer and assassin, and had been with Kei and Fumio since the early years. These days, he rarely carried out assignments himself. He was now an executive, and in Fumio's view had made the transition rather well. He was an invaluable man, with the advantage of hands-on practical experience and organizational talent.
Skilled killers with the administrative talents required by the corporate environment were not easy to find.
'Kitano- sensei?' said Kei respectfully. Although Kitano was an employee and his junior in the Namaka Corporation, the master was his mentor and trainer in the martial arts field and as such was treated with an appropriate deference.
'Several years ago, we had dealings with a terrorist, a gaijin, known as the Hangman,' said Kitano. 'He had many names and we never did find out his real background. But we cooperated on several assignments. It was a successful partnership.'
'He approached us, I recall,' said Kei. He did not add that it had been a major breach of security. It was not appropriate to embarrass Kitano in front of his peers. Anyway, the sensei, once he had recovered from the shock, had handled the situation extremely well.
'He had extensive connections,' said Kitano. 'A number of apparently separate groups in different countries reported to him. Some of his people trained with some of ours in the Middle East. This led to his attempting to penetrate our organization to find out more about us. Fortunately, we were able to block this infiltration, but not until he had learned rather more than he should. The situation was difficult. The solution was cooperation. His people were not known in some areas; our people were not known in others. By exploiting this we were able to carry out a number of assignments successfully.'
There were approving noises from around the table. The buchos were all aware that the subject was difficult for Kitano, and they were anxious to show support. The harmony of the group – wa – was very important.
'I remember,' said Kei. 'It was an excellent solution, sensei.'
Kitano bowed slightly in acknowledgment. Actually, the whole business had been extremely serious. He had never been able to identify that damned gaijin, whereas the foreigner had penetrated the entire Namaka organization and their direct-action arm. The operations they had carried out together had been successful, but they had all been planned by the Hangman and carried out on his own terms. Then the fates had intervened. Just when the security chief had been at his wit's end, the Hangman had vanished. Subsequently, they had learned that he had been killed. It had been the best news of the decade, as far as Kitano had been concerned.
Unfortunately, the Hangman's death was not the end of it. He was a player of games and a man with a warped sense of humor. He had left behind a request in the form of a video sent only to Kitano. If he was captured, he was to be freed. If he was killed, he was to be revenged. If his request was ignored, there would be one warning, then the detailed information he had on the Namaka Corporation would be given to the authorities and there would be other unpleasant consequences. Above all, the security chief would be disgraced in front of his colleagues and the brothers themselves. The brothers knew about the request; Kitano had not told them about the threat. They might consider it his fault, since the gaijin 's infiltration was his responsibility – and Kitano shuddered to think of the punishment. No, he had to take care of this himself.
'This gaijin was killed three years ago,' said Fumio. He had more serious matters on his mind, and as a result was more direct than was customary in a formal discussion. 'I am a little puzzled as to why the matter of this obligation has come up now.'
'It was a small matter,' said the security chief, 'not worthy of the meeting's attention. As to the passing of time, it was difficult to ascertain who had been responsible for the Hangman's death. Then there was the matter of finding an appropriate team to do the job. And there was not urgency. It was a matter of little operational consequence. It was delegated to Yaibo. The team they allocated was then held by the security forces for some time. All of these matters contributed to the delay. If it had been a priority, we would of course have acted sooner.'
Kei wanted to move on to other things. The security chief was an experienced enough man. A routine action six thousand miles away should not be occupying the time of the meeting. Delegation was about someone else getting on with it while you did what was really important. But still he hesitated. The security chief himself had put the item on the agenda.
Kei looked at the security chief. 'There is something you want to say, Kitano- sensei?'
'The assassination attempt took place as planned,' said the security chief, 'but it was not entirely successful. Our team, it appears, was killed. The target was merely seriously wounded. Our lack of complete success is regrettable.'
There was a palpable feeling of relief around the table. The loss of a killing team was something they had to be made aware of, but it was not something to be concerned about. There was a steady supply of young men who wanted to prove themselves in action. Casualties in the field were almost inevitable these days, given the ever- increasing expertise of counterterrorist units, but were just an overhead of doing business. And it was infinitely better that the team were dead rather than captured. Dead men were poor material for interrogation.
'We thank you for reporting this matter, Kitano- sensei,' said Kei, 'but we have confidence that you will resolve it satisfactorily.'
Kitano acknowledged the confidence.
'What is the name of the target, sensei,' said Fumio. 'Is he of any significance to us?'
'The target is an Irishman called Hugo Fitzduane, Namaka- san,' said the security chief. 'He is of no significance. It is merely a matter of giri. Further action is being implemented.'
'Next item,' said the chairman.
8
Connemara Regional Hospital
February 1
Kilmara surveyed Fitzduane's hospital room.
Fitzduane, propped up into a sitting position by his bed, was wearing a T-shirt over his bandaged torso and actually did not look medical for a change. He was pale and had lost weight, but there was some color in his cheeks and his eyes were sharp and alert. The T-shirt had a picture of a group of skunks on the front and was printed with the word 'SKUNKWORKS!'
Fitzduane noticed his glance. 'The Bear sent it over,' he said.
Kilmara grinned. 'And while we're on that substantial subject, how is the Bear?'
Police sergeant Heini Raufman, the Bear, was a large, overweight Bernese policeman with a heavy walrus moustache, a gruff manner, and a taste for large guns, which. like many Swiss, he shot exceedingly well. He and Fitzduane had become very close during the hunt for the Hangman in Bern, and they had fought together during the siege of Fitzduane's castle. Subsequently, the Bear, a widower, had remarried. Fitzduane had been the best man.
Fitzduane smiled. 'He's still officially with the Bernese Kriminalpolizei, but he's got some kind of liaison sweetheart deal with the Swiss federal authorities. He's not doing normal cop work anymore. He's not getting normal pay, either. He is into counterterrorist work and similar exotic territory.'
Kilmara was not surprised. The Bear was the kind of man that you might easily pigeonhole as no more than a solid street cop who had reached his level. But appearances were deceptive, though useful in his line of work. The Bear had a subtle brain. It wasn't surprising that it was being used at last.
Mind you, he could be a little short on patience. When Fitzduane had first met the Bear, the detective had been in disgrace for thumping some German diplomat who had got out of line at a reception. Bern, being the Swiss capital, was full of diplomats with nothing to do except fornicate and drink and look at the bears. All the diplomatic action took place in Geneva and the financial in Zurich.
Kilmara remembered Fitzduane's smile. He was still smiling – expectantly. 'Am I missing something?' Kilmara inquired politely.
'I need a gun permit,' said Fitzduane.
