Tokyo Ink (Gay SF Erotica)

was the cover-up that would cost Magnus. Waiting for search results, he gestured at the vid screen. He wanted Magnus and Jerry distracted. “Regular rail service will be hit, too. That should start showing up on the commuter reports in a few minutes.”
    Magnus looked pointedly at Gabe before dismissing the suggestion. “I know what the vid crews are reporting right now. It’s not commuter delays.”
    “Gods, yes, I don’t want to see that,” Gabe said and turned back to the bar. He poured another shot, slammed it down, then ran his hand over the bar top.
    It was a beautiful piece of furniture, ebony with inlaid pearl. Above it was a sword, slightly curving and with a black and pearl saya covering the blade. Tetsu guessed it was early Ashikaga period. Certainly it was prized, given the way the lighting around it had been carefully thought out and the lack of any other trophies near it.
    Turning his attention back to the laptop, he didn’t see any numbers he recognized at first. He’d meant to set the search for two weeks, but set it instead for two months. No recent transfers set off red flags but there, a little over a month old, was an account number he knew well.
    Obara no Ryuu, Iyashii’s company hit man. The transfer had been placed two days before Tetsu had rescued Gabe from the executive tea room.
    Tetsu closed the search folder, caught Jerry checking his gun yet again. He took one last look around the room to memorize the layout, then grabbed hold of the power cord and gave it a hard jerk, separating it from the outlet.
    “ Kuso , this power supply is shit.” He stood, holding the computer in his right hand and the adapter in his left. He started toward Magnus and made sure he tripped before reaching Jerry. His fall forced Jerry to catch the computer, Tetsu’s knee landing in the center of the guard’s crotch.
    “Fuck, ma --” Staring down the barrel of his own gun, Jerry froze.
    “You, don’t move,” Tetsu ordered before waving the gun at Magnus. “Mr. Valnyk, step back from your desk and keep your hands away from your body.”
    Magnus stayed at his desk, his hands close to his body but not moving. “So, Dillon, your little ketsuman knows how to handle a gun.”
    “Persuade your father,” Tetsu said, ignoring the slur while he dug his knee deeper into Jerry’s crotch. Patting the man down for more weapons, he heard Gabe free the sword from its saya.
    “My pleasure.” Gabe crossed the room, holding the handle with both hands and bringing the tip of the blade up under his father’s chin. Magnus slowly moved away from the desk, his hands palm up and in front of him.
    Tetsu jerked his head at Magnus. “Jacket off.”
    “You’ve got about five minutes before security storms the room.” Magnus slowly removed the jacket, stalling for time.
    Tetsu wanted to correct him, to tell him he had all night to kill him and set the room, but he wanted as much of the man’s cooperation as he could get. He switched the gun to his left hand and motioned to Gabe. “Give me the jacket and check the genkan for a pair of your father’s gloves.”
    Gabe withdrew without question and returned a few seconds later with a pair of driving gloves. Tetsu shed his borrowed jacket and put on the jacket Magnus had been wearing the last time anyone saw him outside the room. He told Gabe to put the sword on the bar then held out his right hand. Gabe put the glove on him. Jerry started to shift. Tetsu tapped him in the nose with the gun barrel.
    Gabe waited, the other glove in his hand.
    “It’ll just take the one.” Tetsu said.
    For the first time since he’d pulled the gun on ValCo’s CEO, Tetsu saw worry cross Valnyk’s face.
    “Perhaps there’s some arrangement to be made, Tetsu-san.”
    From ketsuman to Tetsu-san . Smiling, Tetsu shook his head.
    “Like the one you made with Obara no Ryuu. Tell me, Mr. Valnyk, just what services were you buying last month for half a million doyen?” Tetsu waved the gun at Magnus. “Did he even know it was your son you wanted killed?”
    Magnus answered with an angry laugh. “You’re joking -- tell him the danshou was my son?”
    Gabe, returning to the bar and the sword, eerily echoed his father’s words and laugh. Swinging the sword, he crossed back to Magnus and pressed the tip to his father’s stomach.
    “Now what?” Magnus asked.
    Gabe pulled back, tested the weight of the sword. “1400s, right, Father?” He tilted his head up toward the ceiling, closed