Chapter Thirty-Nine

Theo

It was go-time. I was pumped on adrenaline and caffeine as I watched Aoki’s home. He had been home for about an hour. The first thing he did when he got home was unblindfold and then beat Yamato with a riding crop until he was crying out. The sounds of his cries were a blessing and a curse. At least he was alive.

Then the sadist went into the bathroom without bothering to untie my friend, offer him water, anything. The shower was running when the tall, dark-skinned man with amber eyes and close-cropped black hair exited the elevator. Wearing a tailored suit, Sefu seemed to fit in to any crowd that he wandered through, even though in Tokyo he stood taller than most. The main distinguishing feature was a huge scar that ran across his model-perfect face. It gave him an air of dangerousness which was more than a little hot. I had observed Sefu on several missions, and he approached each one differently. He seemed equally as comfortable working with a whole team as working alone and had never failed me.

Today he slipped a key into the lock of Aoki’s door and opened it as if he lived there. Or at least belonged there. He inhaled deeply, his eyes flashing with a predatory glow, and homed in on the bedroom. Despite me telling him where Yamato and Aoki were, he swiftly checked the dining room, kitchen, and living room, opening any closet that someone may be hiding behind and quietly closing it, before stepping into the bedroom. I guess that’s why he’s a merc and I’m a geek, though I made a mental note to do that if I was ever going in on a search and rescue mission.

Sefu’s movements were precise and graceful as he unfastened the rope and lowered Yamato onto the bed. He leaned down and whispered something to my terrified friend. Still wary, Yamato nodded eagerly, his eyes never leaving Sefu. Sefu began loosening knots to the point where Yamato could start pulling them off himself.

The sound of the shower stopped.

Unfazed, Sefu returned to the kitchen and filled a glass with water. By the time he got back, Yamato was out of his binds and gag, his hands working frantically to bring blood back into his limbs.

“What?” Aoki exclaimed as Sefu walked by, ignoring the flustered man who pulled a robe quickly around his nakedness.

“Who are you? What are you doing in here?” Aoki demanded as Sefu handed the glass to Yamato whose gaze wildly swung from one man to the other.

Aoki took up a fighting stance at which point Sefu paused and straightened up, turning to face him. In perfect Japanese, Sefu said, “You will die tonight. It does not have to be terrifying, but it will be painful.”

At that Aoki launched at Sefu, feet first. Sefu took a step to the side and muttered something, causing Aoki to crumble to the ground, screams of pain tearing from his throat. Yamato scrambled back onto the bed, dropping the emptied glass as he stared on with wide eyes.

Sefu calmly entered the bathroom and returned with a towel, which he laid out on the floor. He pulled a short dagger out of the inside of his jacket and laid it just to the side of the towel.

“How are you feeling?” Sefu asked. His tender tone coaxed Yamato’s attention away from Aoki.

“What did you do?” he asked reverently.

“Just a trick of the mind,” Sefu said off-handedly making me chuckle. “Here,” he said pleasantly, turning to Aoki who was still writhing. “You are no longer in pain.” I noted that he muttered something else under his breath and had known him long enough to know he was using vampiric blood magic on Aoki, not hypnosis like he had led to Yamato to believe.

Breathless and terrified, Aoki rolled to his knees and away from Sefu, edging back until he hit a wall. “Now, I am on a schedule here. Where is your laptop?”

Aoki blinked in confusion and then with a trembling hand pointed to a briefcase near the door. The mercenary opened the case and gave a pleased hum to find the laptop, which he opened and set on the desk facing the room.

My cue. I started flashing all of the videos and pictures that had Aoki naked in them with young men. After searching for Yamato’s photos, I found hundreds more extending back over a decade. For each video and photo, I had erased any identifying information of the men and boys, leaving only their bodies as proof that Aoki had been with them. I set the still frames on a loop so that a new one would come on screen every ten seconds and was darkly satisfied to hear the whimper from Aoki.

“You have the choice, Aoki Masaki. Do you reestablish your honor yourself, or do I need to do it for you?” Sefu asked, nodding to the dagger.

“Is it money that you want? Power? I can get you anything that you want,” Aoki begged.

“Mr. Sato, do you have any final thing to say to this man?” Sefu asked Yamato who shook his head, his disgusted expression trained on the computer. “Well then, as I said, I am on a schedule.”

Aoki ground his teeth and stood, tall and proud. He glared at Sefu and then Yamato, before lowering himself to the towel. As he reached for the dagger, he simultaneously reached under the bed and then there was a flurry of movement.

A second later, Aoki lay slumped to the side, a dagger in his right hand, ceremonial cut across his stomach which released his intestines. A small handgun lay in front of him. Sefu did not appear to have moved at all, and Yamato was gasping in shock, his head whipping back and forth between the dead Aoki and Sefu, who bowed his head slowly.

“Mr. Sato, we must go. Do you know where your clothes are?”

Yamato croaked out, “I…” He blinked in confusion, slowly dragging himself off the bed and almost collapsing. Sefu caught him and eased him back, handing him the bundle that had been left draped over the desk chair. Yamato dressed sitting down, continuing to rub circulation back into his legs as Sefu washed his glass and put it away. He then went around the house finding guns and setting them out in a fan shape around Aoki.

Once Yamato was standing, Sefu asked, “Have you any parting business, here?”

“The…computer.” He glanced at the laptop.

Sefu shook his head. “His shame must be known to his masters. Your secrets are your own. But, I have been asked to reunite you with someone in New York, and your plane leaves shortly.” He pulled out of his lapel a new passport that I had made sure to get to him. “I believe this belongs to you, Mr. Hebi.” He presented the passport with both hands and a small bow. I grinned at his using Yamato’s new alias that I had picked out and chuckled when his eyes grew wide at the name for “serpent.”