The GoldenCity

Kotani opened the door and two men entered the hotel room. They spoke Japanese, and Hollis didn’t know what they were saying. Peering through the gap, he could see one of the men was dressed in a dark blue business suit. The second man wore stained cotton pants and old running shoes. Hollis decided that the second man was Senzo-the landlord who grew up in South America. He had a brisk, friendly voice and his legs rocked slightly as he stood beside the bed.

Senzo did most of the talking while Mr. Business Suit paced back and forth inspecting the room. Kotani’s voice was soft and respectful. Hollis tried to breathe quietly as he held the blade of the knife against his chest. Just pay them the money, he thought. Pay the money and tell them to leave.

After a few minutes of conversation, the man in the business suit began to ask questions. He had a deep, powerful voice and spoke in short sentences. Kotani answered him with a frightened voice.

Silence. And then the man wearing the suit grabbed Kotani and slammed the bookseller against the wall. The man’s voice filled the room, demanding an explanation. Kotani fell onto the floor, but his interrogator picked him up and slapped him across the face. Hollis didn’t need to understand Japanese to know that Kotani was desperate, begging for mercy. If the bookseller betrayed him, then he would have to attack.

Turning his head slightly, Hollis saw Kotani’s scuffed brown shoes. He was standing very close to Hollis, on the left side of the bed. Footsteps across the floor and then a muffled cracking sound. Suddenly, Kotani collapsed onto the floor. Blood poured out of the dead man’s mouth. Hollis could see that someone had shot the bookseller in the back of the head. The man in the business suit laughed and said something.

Hollis glanced to the right beneath the hem of the mattress cover; Senzo was standing only a few feet away. Then he looked left and realized that Kotani’s blood had formed a bright red patch beneath his head. The blood trembled when the men walked back and forth. Hollis stopped breathing as the blood trickled toward him.

He crawled to the right, emerged from beneath the bed and stood up quickly. Senzo was standing a few feet away. Hollis grabbed Senzo’s shoulder with his left hand and jabbed upward with the knife, pushing it deep into the man’s stomach. As Senzo screamed and fell backward, Hollis jerked the blade away.

A Japanese man with a broad face and slicked back hair was standing by the rattan couch. He had wrapped a hotel towel around his handgun to muffle the sound. The man raised his weapon, but Hollis was already on him, grabbing the wrist of the gun hand, then twisting it around. Screaming with pain, the man dropped the gun and Hollis drove the knife between his shoulder blades. The ceramic blade hit a vertebra and snapped in two. Hollis let go of the knife, threw an arm around the man’s neck and shoved a knee into his back. As Kotani’s killer fell forward, Hollis pulled back with one quick jerk and broke his neck.

He stood up and stared at the motionless body. There were mirrors all over the room so that the couples could watch themselves making love. Hollis could see his wild eyes, his chest heaving in and out. In the mirrors, the dead men looked unsubstantial, like piles of clothing dumped on the floor.

The packets of Japanese money and a loaded 9mm handgun were lying in the middle of the bed. Hollis stuffed everything into his shoulder bag, and then returned to the man wearing the suit and pushed him onto his back. He ripped open the dead man’s shirt and saw that his chest and stomach were covered with a dragon tattoo. Yakuza. A Tabula mercenary.

Akihido Kotani lay next to the bed. Looking down at the dead man, Hollis realized that the Itako had given the correct prophecy; the bookseller had bravely protected him. He left the hotel room and sprinted down the hall to the fire exit. Two surveillance cameras were mounted on the wall. Within a few hours, both the Tabula and the Tokyo police would be looking for a murderer, a black man, a gaijin, an outsider with no place to hide.

14

When Gabriel had first crossed the barriers, the experience was terrifying. After a series of journeys, he had learned how to guide the movement of his Light. Though his physical body had nothing to do with this knowledge, the process reminded him of skydiving or bodysurfing-activities where a shift of weight or a slight movement of the arms could propel you in a different direction. Crossing over, his consciousness sensed the right direction and was able to guide his Light to the First Realm. The arrival itself was always unexpected. After passing through the barriers, you were suddenly there. It was like lying down in one bed and waking up in another.

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