A Clean Kill in Tokyo

ignorance. I think you know what it is.”
    Neither of us said anything more for a full minute. I heard him exhale, as though he had been holding his breath. “Rain-san, you’re in a difficult position, and I’m sympathetic. But you must understand I will have what I want. If you tell me now, as a friend, I can trust you. You’ll be free to leave. But if my men have to acquire the information from you by other means, I may not be able to let you go after. In fact, you may not be in a condition to go. Do you understand? If I don’t have the disk, I am forced to do the next best thing: systematically eliminate every risk associated with it. So you see, it would be much better if you tell me now.”
    I folded my arms across my chest and regarded him. My look was impassive, but inside my head I was playing a map of the hallway, the staircase.
    He must have really been hoping I would crack—he waited a long time. Finally he called for his men. The door opened, and I was surrounded and pulled to my feet. He barked orders in Japanese: “Find out where the disk is. And Midori. Whatever it takes.”
    They hauled me out of the room. Behind me Yamaoto was saying, “I am very disappointed.” I barely heard it. I was too busy looking for a way out.

CHAPTER 18
    T hey took me back down the hallway. I noted the entrance as we went past—double glass doors, a deadbolt visibly locked in the small gap between them. The doors had opened outward when we came in. If I hit them dead center, on the fly, the lock might give. If it didn’t, and I had time to back up and try again, I could try to go through the glass, hope not to get cut too badly. Lousy options, but they beat being tortured to death by Flatnose and his handsome friends.
    They were pretty rough shoving me down the hallway ahead of them. I tried to emanate waves of fear and helplessness so their confidence would build. I wanted them to feel in control, to believe I was cowed by their size and their numbers. That might give me some small chance at surprise. Beyond that, I had only one advantage, the same one SOG always had against the North Vietnamese, even when we were operating in their backyard: Considering what was coming, I was more motivated to escape than they were to hold me.
    They took me to a room at the farthest end of the corridor. It was small, about three meters square. The door had a window of frosted glass in its center and opened inward, to the left, at the back of the room. To the right was a small rectangular table with two chairs on either side of it. They pushed me into one of the chairs, my back to the door. I put my hands on my knees, under the table.
    Flatnose disappeared for a few minutes. When he returned, he was carrying a large wooden truncheon. He took a seat on the other side of the table, facing me. I heard the other two take up positions behind me, to either side.
    There was about a meter of empty space between Flatnose’s back and the wall. Good.
    They hadn’t locked the door. Why bother? There were three of them, and they were big bastards. This was their place. They knew they were in control.
    I lifted the table a fraction with my knees, getting a feel for its weight. Despite its size, it was satisfyingly heavy. My heart was thudding in my ears, my neck.
    Flatnose started to say something. I didn’t hear what. As soon as the words began, I sprang up, my arms catching the table from underneath, driving it up and into him. The force of it slammed him backward into the wall. I felt the impact jolt through my arms.
    The other two leaped forward. I shot my leg out into the guy coming in on my right. It caught him squarely in the gut, so hard his momentum continued to carry his feet forward. He went down and then the other one was on me.
    He grabbed me from behind and tried for
hadaka jime,
a sleeper hold, but I turtled my neck and his forearm closed across my mouth. Still, his grip was so strong it felt like he was going to unhinge my jaw. I opened my mouth and the leading edge of his arm jammed between my teeth. Before he could twist free I bit down hard. I felt my teeth sinking into muscle and heard him howl.
    The grip loosened and I spun inside it, pumping uppercuts into his abdomen. He dropped his arms to protect his body and I caught him with a solid palm-heel under the nose. He didn’t fall, but he was dazed. I shoved him to the right and scrambled for the door.
    The guy I’d kicked grabbed my leg from the ground but I shook