Chapter Thirteen

Theo

Robbie and Maggie departed, and Abi waited until they were out of sight before she leaned forward conspiratorially. “Sooo, is it cool that I stay for Pride?” she asked.

“Yeah, of course,” I said. “Robbie’s gonna be in the parade though, and then I’ll be spinning at the Snake Pit. Did you want to come for the parade or…?”

“Can I go to it all? I want to see the full parade and then maybe watch you at the Snake Pit? That would be really cool to see you in action.”

I snorted. “Snake Pit’s a gay club, but hey, eye candy, huh?”

Abi laughed loudly. “I know! That’s what will make it so cool. I’m not on the prowl, considering I’m a bride-to-be.” She wiggled her engagement ring. “But this girl isn’t blind either.”

“Yeah, Abs. Lemme Interface. Make sure you got a room.” I cast a glance toward the hotel. “Figure they’re gonna be in there a bit?”

She followed my gaze and nodded. “Yeah. No worries though. I have my tablet and am enjoying a little reading for fun before the next semester when it’s all med stuff, all the time.”

“Great, I have some stuff to do myself.”

She shrugged lightly and pulled out her reader.

After shifting some things around to make sure that Abi was set up with a room for Pride, I dove back into the wild world of the Yakuza. My buddy Yamato was a decent enough hacker, and ultimately just a kid mixed up in the wrong thing. I’d been taken back one time when we were chilling in World of Warcraft. He was playing his usual healer avatar and we got off on a side conversation.

 

“Can you imagine a world where healers like this actually existed?”

I laughed internally because of Kat and her magic skills, and hedged, “How do you mean?”

“When people get ill, medicine helps them, but only so far. I just think it would be nice to lay hands on someone like my character and heal them,” Yamato said, his voice lowered and sad.

“Uh, yeah, man. That would be cool,” I responded, selfishly wanting to get back into the game, but not minding the brief break and really kind of wondering where it was going.

Yamato was quiet for a bit as our characters continued to venture around the digital world. I flinched when he broke the silence. “It’s just that I always thought about becoming a doctor. Actually being able to help people.”

“Thought you had just gotten your business degree?”

“I did.”

“So, go get your medical degree,” I offered matter-of-factly. I knew Yamato was smart, and hell, the Yakuza need doctors too.

“No. I would prefer to heal people who deserve help,” he said with an edge to his tone. I thought he might come clean about his other endeavors, but he didn’t. Instead he threw himself into the game and never mentioned any of that again.

 

I figured the only way I’d find out why someone from his own organization would want to screw up his books was to track them, so I went to work investigating Aoki Masaki: another low-ranking Yakuza also in the same syndicate. Ridiculously average on every level with an apparent hard-on for violence, good old Aoki gave the distinct impression that he was a shoot first and never ask questions kinda guy. He had been implicated in several murders, but of course charges just didn’t stick.

Apparently born into “da family,” Aoki was the child of a midlevel boss who seemed to have his paws messy with corporate tampering. A master of sokaiya, or the art of blackmailing people so they pay off to save face, good old daddy Masaki had been raising his son to follow in his footsteps. Despite the deep dive, I didn’t find anything linking Aoki’s dad and Yamato, so I shifted gears and focused only on Aoki. Someone had to have given him the order to screw with Yamato, right?

He was a twenty-six-year-old unmarried graduate from college in business with a minor in computer programming. As I started riding the tides of electronic knowledge, I found myself giggling. There he was, Aoki in all his business-suited glory, a feature in Yamaguchi-gumi Shinpo, the Yakuza’s very own in-house magazine. I flipped through the pages, kinda hoping for a centerfold so I could see his inevitable criminal-tats, but was disappointed. There was only one article with a picture of him posed stoically with his arms folded. The article was apparently just after he graduated, and he was being hailed as a role model to be emulated. Not only had he graduated with honors, but the man had also scored 100 percent on the twelve-page exam that the syndicate made its members take that covered Japanese law. I had to chuckle at the PR move for one of the best-known crime organizations in the world with their goofy magazine and pictured the Italian mob putting out a similar periodical with Grandma’s recipes instead of haikus.

I followed strand after strand before finally throwing my mental hands up at the idea that this was something sanctioned. There was simply nothing in Yamato’s data to suggest he was anything but the son in a family-operated export business who kept the books. Sure, some of the exports weren’t on the up and up, but there was nothing to show why the Yakuza might send Aoki to screw up Yamato’s data. His family was compliant and had been for many years.

So it had to be personal, right? And if it was personal, then why? Aoki had done a fairly decent job with his private firewalls, and I enjoyed the magical acrobatics of hurdling them, sliding under defenses meant to identify anyone trying to access his personal computer, and side-stepping the software that would record anyone else’s presence but his own. Snickering, I had to applaud his attempts, but at the end of the day he was only human.

And what do we have here…? My dick twitched and my hand was heading toward it when my rational mind reminded me that just behind me was one very astute blonde shifter that I had no interest in picking up on the fact that I was aroused. Had to admit that skintight leather and a crop elevated average Aoki to head of the class. And goodness. But to quote that G&R song, Yamato did look pretty tied up.