admiration. ‘Figured it out, huh?’
‘The bit where some twat fired rockets at me was sort of a giveaway.’
‘Yeah, that wasn’t subtle, was it?’ The smile chilled — then her right hand whipped into her handbag.
Eddie was faster, snatching out the Makarov and aiming it at her chest. ‘Ah-ah.’
‘Would you believe me if I said I was just getting a tampon?’ Scarber asked, slowly withdrawing her hand.
‘Not really. Now take out the gun. Slowly, thumb and little finger.’
Glaring, she reached into the bag and extracted a pistol. Eddie saw that it was a Smith & Wesson SD9, a compact automatic — yet not so compact that Scarber could have easily smuggled it into the country. She must have picked it up in Japan, which meant she had associates.
Associates who could bring modern weapons from the United States through the strict Japanese customs checks…
‘Eject the mag, then chuck ’em under the table,’ Eddie ordered. She did so, the gun and its magazine clunking to the floor. He kicked them under his seat. ‘Former spook, my arse. You’re either still active or you’ve got close mates in the CIA. So who are you working for — and why’d you go to all this trouble to put me in the building when your chopper started shooting it up?’
Scarber sneered, parchment skin drawing tight. ‘You really think I’m going to tell a punk like you?’
‘If you don’t, that’ll be your last smoke.’ The Makarov remained locked unwaveringly on her heart.
She took the cigarette from her mouth and looked at it ruefully. ‘I was planning on quitting anyway… Okay, kiddo, strap yourself in. The people I work for wanted Takashi dead — your wife too — and the statues destroyed. Stikes was just an incidental bonus.’
Eddie clenched his jaw. ‘Why do they want to kill Nina?’
‘Hell if I know. I’m just an operator — I don’t make the decisions. They’re on one side, my employers are on the other, it’s that simple. As for why they want
‘There’s a long fucking list of people I’ve pissed off,’ said Eddie. ‘Shorten it. Who is he?’
Instead of answering, she glanced down the aisle. Eddie turned his head — to see one of the other passengers pointing a gun at him. Another SD9. A second man approached from behind Scarber, similarly armed. ‘You took your goddamn time,’ she snapped.
‘Sorry, ma’am,’ said the first man. His accent was American. ‘We didn’t have clear line of sight on the subject. If you’d sat in the aisle seat, as we suggested…’
‘Don’t you try to give me fieldcraft tips, kid,’ Scarber said irritably. ‘I was working undercover in China while your dad was still in diapers.’
‘More like his granddad,’ Eddie said, grinning.
With an angry look she took the Makarov from him. ‘Son of a bitch,’ she muttered, ejecting the magazine and finding it empty. ‘It wasn’t even loaded.’
‘What do you want us to do with him, ma’am?’ asked the gunman.
‘Gee, what do you think? Deal with him.’
His gun still locked on to Eddie, the man slipped into the seat beside him. The other goon took the empty seat next to Scarber, also fixing his weapon on the Englishman. ‘You’re just going to shoot me?’ said Eddie, feigning casualness even as his mind raced to figure a way out of the situation. ‘I think the other passengers might notice.’
‘Everyone in this car was with me,’ Scarber announced smugly. ‘We booked every seat.’
‘Oh. Glad I bought shares in Japan Rail, then,’ Eddie replied, his affected nonchalance rapidly fading. The remaining ‘passengers’ headed for the exits at each end of the carriage, presumably to stop anyone from passing through while Scarber’s people completed their work. ‘Be a bit hard for you to hide a body with a bullet hole in it for another hour, though.’
‘Don’t worry, kiddo, we thought of that.’ She nodded to the man beside Eddie, who cautiously holstered his weapon — the other gunman pointedly raising his SD9 towards Eddie’s face to discourage him from trying anything — and took out a shiny metal tube with a nozzle on one end. ‘Gas injector,’ Scarber explained. ‘No needle marks, no noise, and you’ll be dead in twenty seconds. We get off at Nagoya, and by the time someone tries to wake you up at the end of the line we’ll be out of the country.’
‘Well, hoo-fucking-ray for Japanese politeness,’ said Eddie. Blocked in, with the man across the table covering him, he could neither fight nor run. ‘Do I at least get to finish my ciggy?’ He raised it to his mouth.
Scarber shook her head. ‘Those things’ll kill you.’ She gestured to the first goon, who turned in his seat to face the Englishman, bringing up the gas injector—
Eddie spat the cigarette into his eye.
Sparks flew, the blinded man screeching and clapping a hand to his face — and Eddie yanked him over the armrest. The startled agent opposite found his line of fire blocked by his partner.
The anguished operative was still clutching the injector. Eddie clamped a fist round his hand and twisted it to jam the nozzle up against the goon’s jaw. There was a sharp hiss. The man’s shrieks turned to pure horror as he realised his death was just seconds away.
But the same would be true for Eddie if he couldn’t get clear…
He bodily shoved the dying man across the table, then snatched at a lever on his chair. The first-class seat slammed into its reclined position as Eddie threw himself back against it. The other man stood to bring his gun above his spasming partner — only to have the Smith & Wesson kicked from his hand as his target rolled backwards.
Eddie crashed down in the next set of seats and scrambled to his feet. He had to get out of the carriage — the presence of witnesses would drastically limit Scarber and her men’s actions. He leapt into the aisle, about to sprint for the door at the end of the coach—
It opened. Another suited Asian man came through, gun raised.
Eddie dived across the aisle as he fired. A dull thump of lead against flesh and a choked scream came from behind him. The man beside Scarber had moved to retrieve his gun, only to take the bullet in his chest.
Another shot smacked into the seat back above Eddie. The new arrival was charging down the carriage for a clear shot. He needed a weapon. The dead goon’s gun had landed on the seats across from Scarber’s table. Eddie flung himself over the row of chairs. Another shot hissed overhead as he landed heavily.
The gun! Where was it?
He looked frantically about, hearing footsteps rapidly closing.
If it had fallen under the seats, he was doomed—
Eddie jumped back into the aisle. Scarber was still in her seat, but had hooked her gun with one outstretched foot and was reaching under the table for it.
He pointed the SD9 at her and pulled the trigger—
It clicked. Empty.
Scarber nevertheless flinched as if she had received an electric shock. A brief exchange of hostile glares, then Eddie vaulted the dead man and ran for the rear of the carriage. ‘Get Jun and kill that bastard!’ Scarber shouted.
The door automatically slid open as he approached. He darted into the boarding compartment. Two sets of doors ahead marked the connecting passage between this coach and the next — and through the glass he saw another man hurrying towards him.
Nowhere to go. The outer doors were sealed, controlled by the
But there was another door, a ‘no entry’ sign on it. He shoulder-barged it, but the lock held firm. The man was almost at the connecting passage.
Another slam—
The door burst open. Eddie fell into a cramped guard’s compartment, hip barking against a shelf-like desk on
