Legacies

19.

Yoshio found himself laughing aloud as he watched from his car.

Tonight had been a thing of beauty. When he had heard shots from within the house, he had assumed the worst: That Muhallal and his hirelings had killed the Clayton woman's ronin. But when Yoshio had seen figures hurrying from the house and taking up position behind the wrecked truck in the front yard, he had expected a firefight to follow.

But how could there be a firefight when Alicia Clayton and the ronin were slipping into their car across the street?

The explosion had made everything clear. A small explosion—or the impending threat of a larger one—had driven everyone from the house to the supposed safety of the outdoors. And what better place to shield one's self from flying debris than behind the oh-so-conveniently located truck rusting in the front yard?

But the house was not rigged to explode. Why destroy a perfectly good house when you can drive out invaders with a fake bomb and induce them to cluster around the real bomb?

And as the debris from the derelict truck was still flying though the air, the ronin's white car had begun moving, rolling down the street with its lights out. Slipping away into the night.

Yoshio clapped his hands. So simple. So elegant. Bravo, ronin-san!

Fortunately, Muhallal had survived. Yoshio wanted the Arab alive. He was the only one besides the Clayton brother who knew why the Clayton house was so valuable.

He watched Baker rage at the night as the remaining man he had sent to guard the rear raced back to the front yard. Yoshio rolled down his window to hear what Baker was screaming.

"Who is this guy? I want him! I want him! Who are you, you fucker? Show yourself! Let's do it! You and me! That's all! No tricks! Just you and me!" Baker's voice rose to a screech. "Who the fuck are you?"

Good question, Yoshio thought. Who is this ronin!

Obviously, he was more than mere hired muscle. He was a man who was comfortable with violence but used it judiciously, and with style. He was a man experienced in his line of work and intended to stay in it for the long run—as witness this skillfully booby-trapped house. The house told Yoshio that the ronin planned far ahead and might well be prepared for almost any eventuality.

Which meant Yoshio would have to be especially cautious in his next move.

For Yoshio was determined to meet the ronin before Muhallal and Baker, by some blind luck, blundered into him and killed him. Yoshio was sure the ronin knew something, had learned something in that house.

He resisted the urge to gun his engine and follow him. He calculated the risks and decided it unwise to drive past the house right now. Baker or one of his thugs might empty a clip or two from their assault pistols at him. He had little faith in their accuracy, but a lucky slug might pierce his gas tank or—worse yet—pierce him.

No, he would catch up to them back in Manhattan.

Then he would learn what those two had discovered in the Clayton house.