THIRTY

Kazuo Kojima’s plane from Kobe had touched down at Tocumen International Airport a little over two hours ago. Upon disembarking, he and his private security force had been met by a convoy of limousines. The limousines they rode in were all bullet-proof and heavily armour-plated up front; they had served as the kumicho’s regular means of transportation around Panama City ever since a fateful night many years ago when Kazuo’s wife and youngest son had been murdered in an attack orchestrated by his greatest rival, Fang Fu and his Chinese Triads.

Kazuo had been quiet for most of the trip thus far, staring vacantly out the window as his five-car convoy of limousines drove back towards the Kojima building, snaking through the twisting city streets of Panama City.

Kazuo’s head-of-security, Itto Zora, sat beside him in silence. Although Itto could tell something was troubling his boss, he felt it best not to pry. He knew that if Kazuo wanted to talk, he most certainly would have done so.

Itto Zora was a solidly built individual. He had a reputation for keeping a cool head in a crisis, which was the very reason he had reached the prestigious position he currently held. Itto had served Kazuo all of his life, gradually working his way up through the ranks, trained since childhood in all the major forms of combat and weaponry. Nowadays he and his hand-picked squad went wherever Kazuo went; their one and only task was to ensure their leader’s safety at any and all times.

Itto Zora’s squad had been named The Lone Wolves. The reason for this was that they were quite a reclusive bunch; none of them would ever socialize with anyone outside their ranks. Few people knew anything about their individual personal lives. But their reputation as a team had grown to legendary heights in the world of organised crime over the years, having stopped countless attacks on their master and felling small armies of enemies. Most believed them to be unbeatable in a fair fight.

Each member of the Lone Wolves carried a shoulder strapped MP-5 sub-machinegun, two handguns of personal choice, and a 12-inch Bowie knife. They had always been instructed by Zora to expect the unexpected in any given situation, and each was prepared to lay down their own life for their kumicho, if the need ever arose.

Seated directly across from Kazuo and Itto in the back of the limo were two other members of Itto’s squad, Yukio Saragoto and Utaro Satsugai.

Yukio was the lone female member of the team. Actually, she was one of the select few female wakacku in the whole of Kojima-gumi. This was an honour which spoke enough in itself. Added to that, her combat skills were equal to any man on the team.

Beside Yukio sat Utaro Satsugai, who was the baby of the squad at just twenty-one years of age. Utaro had earned his position in the Lone Wolves the hard way, saving Kazuo Kojima’s life several years ago during an attack back in Kobe. During the incident, Utaro had taken a bullet for his kumicho, but had kept on fighting until reinforcements had arrived, soon after which he had lost consciousness, and almost his life too, due to extreme blood-loss. Kazuo had never forgotten the kid’s selfless act, and had rewarded him accordingly. Utaro may have been young, but both his dedication to his job and his bravery were questioned by nobody.

Itto Zora suddenly looked out the window of the car as the entire convoy came to a screeching halt. He expected to see either a traffic light or road work sign up ahead, but he could not make out either. A loud burst of static cut through his radio earpiece.

“Nia to Zora, please acknowledge, sir.” The voice coming through the earpiece belonged to Bongo Nia, one of the most experienced Lone Wolves, who was in the convoy’s front car.

“Zora receiving,” Itto said into his mic. “What’s wrong? Why have we stopped?”

“There’s a man up ahead, sir. He’s standing in the middle of the road. It looks like he’s armed with an MP-5. What do you want me to do?”

Itto glanced across to Kazuo for a second. “Just one man? Are you sure there’s nobody else?”

“Not that I can see, sir. He’s on his own.”

“Then proceed ahead,” Itto said. “These cars are heavily armoured up front; his bullets can’t touch us. If he doesn’t move out of the way, run right over the top of him.”

...

Up ahead, standing there in the middle of the narrow one-lane street with his Mp-5 submachinegun in hand, Ramon Diablo watched the unmoving convoy through the mirrored lenses of his sunglasses.

Come on, little ones, Ramon thought to himself with excitement, come play with me!

Right on cue, the lead car in the convoy took off, roaring straight towards the Guerrero at high speed. Ramon did not move out of the way. Instead, he raised his MP-5 and began blasting away at the windshield. The vehicle’s glass was bulletproof, and so it cracked but did not break under the immense weight of fire.

Just as car got within range, Ramon rolled out of its path and took a small remote control from his pocket. He pressed a button, detonating the two blocks of C-4 explosive that he had left behind himself on the road. The resulting explosions hit right under the limousine as it drove over the C-4, lifting up the back of the vehicle and flipping it over in a violent hail of metal and shattering glass.

A second later the entire convoy came to a screeching stop, the road ahead of them now blocked by the vehicle’s wreckage.

...

“Nia, report in,” Itto Zora spoke quickly but calmly into his mic. “What’s happening up there? Is everyone okay?!”

Another voice cut through Itto’s earpiece in Nia’s place. “This is Imuda in the second car, sir. Nia’s vehicle has crashed and the wreckage is blocking the road. I don’t think we’ll be able to get around it.”

Despite his concern for the men in the front car, Itto kept his cool in the face of adversity, just like he always did, opting instead to focus on his primary task and protect his kumicho. “What’s the status of the shooter?”

“I can’t see him. From my angle it looked to me like Nia’s car hit him head-on.”

“Are any more potential attackers visible? I want all teams to check outside now and report in!”

“Negative,” each of the four remaining limousines reported.

“Alright, listen up, here’s what we’re doing,” said Itto. “Imuda, you and your crew get out there and check on Nia. Hoji, get on the phone and try to call in an ambulance. And Yasaki, start reversing; we need to get ourselves off this street, or else we’ll be trapped here if any more shooters show up.”

Imuda, Hoji and Yasaki all acknowledged their orders. As per their instructions, the four Lone Wolf gunmen from the convoy’s second car got out of the vehicle and approached the wreckage.

The other three vehicles began reversing back down the narrow street to look for an exit. However, they only made it about thirty metres before coming to another jarring halt.

“Yasaki, is something wrong?” Itto barked into his radio. “Keep us moving back there!”

“I can’t, sir,” came Yasaki’s response. “There are two more gunmen back here and they’re blocking the road. These guys are both wearing face-masks.”

“I don’t hear gunfire. What are they doing now?”

“Um… well, it looks like they’re kissing, sir.”

“Kissing?!”

...

Rosaria and Sebastian stood there together in the middle of street, a long black cylindrical tube held between them. Their face-masks were pressed together, their tongues entwined like pretzels as they kissed with intense passion.

“Ready for some fireworks, my love?” Sebastian asked as they finally came up for air.

“Si,” Rosaria smiled. “I hope they’re pretty.”

Sebastian grinned as he raised the black barrel of the M-72 rocket launcher in his arms, levelling his weapon’s laser sights with the bumper-bar of the convoy’s rear car. “Only one way to find out.” When he pulled the trigger a missile shot out the end of the tube, hissing through the air with a trail of white smoke.

The explosive round hit just under the rear bumper, which was a weak spot in the armoured vehicle’s design. The explosion lifted the rear of the vehicle up into the air in a ball of flames, flipping it over onto its roof and crushing the burning occupants inside.

...

Imuda and his three Lone Wolf colleagues had just converged on the lead limousine’s wreckage when the explosion went off back down the street. All four of them turned, watching on in horror as the convoy’s rear limousine was tossed over onto its roof and ignited in flames.

“Shit!” Imuda was just about to run back down the street to offer assistance, when suddenly there came a loud crash from somewhere up above him.

Imuda looked up into the sky just in time to see a blurred figure lunging down out of the third-storey window in a shower of glass, landing on the roof of their vehicle. A second later Imuda was speared up against the side of the limousine wreckage with a ballistic knife-blade skewered through his heart.

...

Eduado Ramirez looked over at Imuda’s skewered corpse, admiring his handiwork.

Much like the hook on a fishing line, the blade of Eduado’s ballistic knife was connected to the grip by a barely visible line of wire. The wire would shoot out with the blade whenever the small button on his grip was pressed; this enabled him to quickly recall his detachable blade back into his grip whenever he needed it, whether that was to shoot it out again or simply use it as a knife. It also enabled Eduado to use the weapon like a bladed whip.

After the initial surprise of Imuda’s demise evaporated, the three remaining Lone Wolf gunmen around the limousine wreckage all brought their weapons up to shoot their attacker.

But Eduado was no easy target. He quickly jumped down from the roof of the vehicle to escape their bullets, then with a flick of his wrist he hoisted his detached blade off the ground, lashing it around a whip; with his first crack he sliced the throat of one Lone Wolf, then with his second he stabbed the blade through the chest of another.

The last Lone Wolf gunman in the group turned to run and seek out cover, but as he did so he suddenly found himself staring straight into the cold, hard and expressionless face of Ramon Diablo.

“Buenas noches, amigo,” the leader of Los Diablos whispered. Good night, friend. Then he rammed his knife straight through the Lone Wolf’s heart.

...

“Imuda, report in!” Itto barked into his radio, receiving no response on the other end.

“Hoji,” he said next, “Imuda’s not responding. What’s the situation?!”

“Imuda’s team has been taken out, sir,” came Hoji’s frantic reply from further up the road. “I think we’re boxed in, sir!”

“These guys are good, and they have us trapped.” Itto Zora looked around at each of his colleagues inside the car. “If any of us are going to survive this, we need to turn this ambush into a straight up fight.”

The others all simply nodded, showing him they were ready for action.

“We need to get out there and protect this car from them at all costs,” Itto said.

“No, enough of this!” Kazuo Kojima interrupted, his usually firm hands now shaking. “Whoever these men are, it’s obvious they’re after me. The rest of you need to put down your weapons and get out of here while you still can!”

“That’s never going to happen, sir,” Yukio Saragoto shook her head. “If they want you, they’re going to have to come through every last one of us first!”

The young Utaro nodded in agreement beside her. “They’ll never get through me, sir. You have my word. I won’t die on you.”

Tears began to well in Kazuo’s eyes. “I’m not worth dying for.”

“You’re my life, sir,” Utaro said. “Without you, I would be nothing but an uneducated child of the streets. You gave me a home, a sense of belonging.”

Kazuo Kojima fell silent. He didn’t know what else to say.

“Everyone stay calm,” Itto Zora said. “No more of us are going to die today. These men clearly don’t know who they’re dealing with. But we’ll show them.”

The leader of the Lone Wolves looked outside the window. There were no visible means of escape on either side of the street. No alleys, roads or accessible buildings to use as cover; only parked cars and open sidewalks. Their attackers had obviously chosen this battlefield well.

“Okay, everyone listen up,” he spoke firmly into his mic, addressing his whole team. “We can’t just sit here and wait to be picked off by RPGs. I want you all to get out of your vehicles, now; we’re going to form a perimeter around our kumicho’s car; we’ll stand and fight!”

The young Utaro made a move for the door, but then Itto gripped the young warrior firmly on the shoulder to stop him.

“No, not you, Utaro,” Itto said. “Your job will be to stay in here with the kumicho. Don’t give up this vehicle for anything, even on the off chance the rest of us fall. I have just sent an emergency distress signal to the Kojima building, so reinforcements should be arriving soon. You need to hold the fort until they get here.”

Utaro begrudgingly accepted his role as the last line of defence. Itto, Yukio and the one other Lone Wolf gunman inside all got out and took up their defensive positions around the limousine. Yukio was last to leave. As she did, she paused at the door and blew Utaro a kiss.

“Good luck, kid,” she whispered. “Whatever happens, don’t let them take him.”

“Give them hell, Yukio,” Utaro said, his eyes glowing with passion. “Show them what the Lone Wolves are all about. Take all of these fuckers down!”

...

Rosaria and Sebastian watched on with amusement as the remaining Lone Wolves got out of their vehicles and formed a defensive perimeter around Kazuo Kojima’s limousine.

“Shall we dance, my dear?” Sebastian turned to his lover.

Rosaria nodded. “You lead, Speedy. Show me your moves.”

“Anything for you,” Sebastian drew his Colt Peacemaker in one hand and a Beretta M9 in his other, then he took off running down the street, charging towards the Lone Wolves with both of his guns blazing.

...

“Here they come!” Itto screamed out as he saw Sebastian coming towards them.

Under Itto Zora’s directions, six of the remaining Lone Wolves had formed an outer circle around Kazuo’s limo, while Itto and Yukio remained inside their perimeter for support purposes on either side of the vehicle. The whole squad opened fire, trading bullets with the incoming Guerrero.

Sebastian ‘Speedy’ Gonzalez more than lived up to his name; his pace was nothing short of phenomenal as he banked left down the sidewalk, moving towards them like a hamster through a maze. The barrage of bullets coming his way smashed up shopfront windows, chipped away at brickwork, and chewed up cars all around him, but none found their mark.

Sebastian fired back while still on the move, blowing off the face of one Lone Wolf gunman. Then he rolled forward, firing his Beretta M9 beneath the underbelly of a parked car, and two more Lone Wolves dropped dead with bullets through their foreheads.

Taking cover behind the rear wheel of the parked vehicle, Sebastian paused for a moment and began counting down to himself. Four-three-two-one…

And right on cue, out across the street, Rosaria arrived on the scene with her twin Beretta M9 handguns blazing. The Lone Wolves all had their backs to her to focus their fire on Sebastian, and so she fired four rounds into the back of one’s neck; he dropped to the ground noiselessly, his spine severed.

Rosaria shifted her sights, each of her twin Berettas picking a target, and both barrels fired simultaneously; the target on her far left went down as a bullet exited out through his larynx in a cloud of blood, and the target to her right took several hits to the back of the head, the last one passing out through his eyeball in a thick red mist.

Rosaria then levelled her sights with the back of Yukio Saragoto. She fired again, missing high as the female Lone Wolf received a quick verbal warning from one of hers colleagues and dropped to the ground.

With a quick roll forward, Yukio brought her MP-5 around and returned fire, but Rosaria ducked down behind a car for cover and her short burst missed. Yukio kept on blazing away after her, her bullets ripping up the entire vehicle like hailstones of destruction.

Suddenly the clips of both Yukio’s and Itto Zora’s Mp-5s ran dry and silence swept down the street.

Crouched down behind the bullet-riddled car, Rosaria Rodriguez smiled to herself and lay her two Berettas down on the pavement. Across the street, Sebastian was seemingly on the same wavelength as his lover as he disposed of his Beretta and holstered his Colt Peacemaker. With the odds now even, the two Guerreros stood up and walked out onto the street to face down their foes.

Rosaria came face-to-face with Yukio, Sebastian with Itto Zora.

Itto and Yukio both cast aside their spent Mp-5s. They understood the challenge that was being thrown down to them. It was time to see who the better warriors really were.

For the longest of moments all four combatants stood in silence, their hands wavering beside holstered sidearms like a gunfighters from the Wild West.

Then they all made a play for their weapons and the street was drowned out in gunfire once again.

...

Yukio and Rosaria screamed out at the top of their lungs as they charged at each other, guns blazing. They came together ferociously out in the centre of the street, both of them with several light bullet grazes. Yukio whipped her head around Rosaria’s final shot, spinning around in the same movement, and pressed the barrel of her gun to Rosaria’s breast to fire. But then, in the blink of an eye, Rosaria drew her blade and lashed aside the barrel of Yukio’s weapon; the Lone Wolf’s intended kill-shot went wide of the mark, the weapon knocked right from her hand.

Rosaria went to thrust her blade though Yukio’s throat with her next move, but the female Lone Wolf skilfully palmed Rosaria’s arm aside. It was clear she’d had extensive training in hand-to-hand combat. Yukio quickly looked to counter-attack and drive her other palm into the Guerrero’s nose, but Rosaria nipped her head backwards and she ended up hitting nothing but air.

Yukio jumped backwards, sucking in her stomach muscles tightly as the Guerrero’s blade hissed just past her ribs in retaliation; the blow cut her shirt to shreds, missing flesh only by a slither. She launched herself at Rosaria, gripping the Guerrero by her knife-wielding arm and locking her up in a vicious grapple for control of the blade.

They fought desperately over the weapon, turning each other inside out like a pair of tango dancers as they shifted positions, traded throws, holds and tactics.

Suddenly Yukio forced the blade towards the ground and then, gripping Rosaria by the wrists and coiling her leg around her adversary’s, she tossed the Guerrero over with a Judo throw from the hip. But much to her surprise, Rosaria, having had the move scouted, landed on her feet with cat-like agility, then countered the throw with one of her own, sending Yukio crashing down hard onto the pavement instead.

“Is that all you’ve got, bitch?!” Rosaria growled at her adversary. “Don’t tell me the little she-wolf has run out of tricks?”

Rising gingerly to her feet, Yukio reached down to the sheath on her belt, taking out her bowie knife. “Don’t worry, I still have more than a few!”

“Then come on!” Rosaria signalled. “Give me everything you’ve got!”

The two women circled each other with their knives raised, sizing each other up. But eventually it was Yukio who blinked and lunged in first. Their knives grinded together, moving in and out in a frantic succession of loop-like blows and counters.

Suddenly Yukio feigned a knife thrust and went for a high round-house kick to the side of Rosaria’s head, but the Guerrero caught her by the leg and lifted her off-balance. Then Rosaria seized her opening and drove her adversary back, slamming her spine-first against the side of Kazuo’s limousine, the window cracking on impact.

Still gasping in agony, Yukio swung back wildly with her knife, but Rosaria blocked easily, the blades locking up between them.

“Sssh,” Rosaria whispered to her foe. “It will all be over soon.” Then, utilising her larger frame and superior strength, she began forcing the edges of the two knives back towards Yukio’s chest.

It was then Yukio remembered her backup gun in her ankle holster. Wincing through her pain, she acrobatically latched the back of her heel up on the roof of the limo and then, with one hand still fighting to hold Rosaria’s knife at bay, she began to reach down her leg for the gun.

She gripped the weapon and drew it, but right before she could get off her shot, Rosaria drove her palm into the shaft of her knife, sending 12 inches of steel straight through Yukio’s heart and spearing her against the side of the car.

“Close,” Rosaria whispered as a tear ran slowly down Yukio’s dying face. “But in a battle to the death, close doesn’t cut it.”

...

Meanwhile, both Itto and Sebastian had drawn their guns at equal speed and two gunshots rang out nearly simultaneously. But one had been just a fraction of second faster than the other; Itto Zora took a hit in the ribs and was thrown back against the side of the limousine, while his own bullet flashed just an inch wide of Sebastian’s head.

“Looks like I got you!” Sebastian growled as he moved in quickly at his reeling adversary, drawing his knife on the run.

Gasping for breath, Itto quickly raised his weapon back up and fired, but the onrushing Guerrero somehow sidestepped his shot. Then the speedy Sebastian was upon his prey and his knife went straight for Itto’s throat.

Acting purely out of instinct to keep himself alive, Itto brought up his sidearm to protect his vitals. Clink! The blade hit the steel of Itto’s sidearm, deflecting it wide. But in defending himself, Itto had left himself unguarded around his mid-section and Sebastian took full advantage by pressing the barrel of his Colt Peacemaker to his adversary’s torso and pulling the trigger.

Bang! Itto jerked back at the bullet struck him, his body going tense against the side of the limousine.

Sebastian’s blade flashed through the air for Itto’s throat again, and this time Itto knew he was out of tactical defensive options. So instead, he raised his hand to deflect the blow and took the full brunt of the knife straight through his palm; the blade cut through his flesh like butter, exciting through the back of the hand, but trapping it there, wedged deep in the bone.

Grunting furiously to shut out the pain, Itto quickly tried to blast his adversary in the face with his own sidearm, but Sebastian was too quick for him and easily knocked his barrel aside.

Itto then hurriedly attempted to stab Sebastian with the blade skewered through his hand, but the Guerrero effortlessly caught his arm, then he pressed his Peacemaker up to Itto’s hand and fired again. The Lone Wolf leader’s entire hand exploded in a cloud of red and the knife that had been wedged it it fell, dropping straight into Sebastian’s waiting grasp.

“You fought well, soldier,” Sebastian said. “I’ll be sure to write it on your tombstone.” Then he rammed his knife through the side of Itto’s skull to finish him off.

...

“Oh my god…” Kazuo Kojima gasped from the back seat of the limousine, watching on helplessly as both Itto and Yukio fell to their more skilled opponents.

“Those motherfuckers!” The young Utaro screamed out beside him, realising now that he was the only line of defence still breathing.

Before Kazuo could object, Utaro lowered his window and began firing. His rounds chewed up cars and blew out chunks of asphalt from the street as he blazed away after Yukio’s killer with everything he had, desperation taking hold and controlling his actions, just as it had on that occasion back in Kobe when he had first saved Kazuo’s life.

“Come on!” Utaro howled with venom at the attackers. “Come taste some of this, you fucking bitch!”

At that moment there was a loud thump on top of the vehicle, the roof denting inwards, but Utaro did not even notice, blinded in his lust for blood.

Up on the roof, Sebastian Gonzalez stuck his Colt Peacemaker in through the corner of Utaro’s open window and fired.

The young Lone Wolf took two hits to the chest, jerking back violently.

“No! I can’t fail… I can’t…” For a moment Utaro wavered there, screaming out through the pain as he kept pulling his trigger, but then two more of Sebastian’s bullets smashed into him and he fell to the floor with his weapon still firing.

...

“Where’s the primary?” Ramon Diablo asked as he joined the rest of Los Diablos alongside Kazuo’s limousine.

At that moment the front door of the vehicle swung open and the driver jumped out, bringing a shotgun up to shoot at them. But before he could get off a shot, all four members of Los Diablos drew their Colt Peacemakers and blasted him away down the street.

Soon after the driver had been felled, the rear door of the limousine opened slowly and Kazuo Kojima got out, hands raised in a gesture of surrender.

“Mr Kojima,” Eduado said with a smile, “it’s a pleasure to meet you. Now pack your bags, you’re coming with us!” He walked over and pressed his gun to Kazuo’s heart.

With their primary target secured, Ramon Diablo unclipped his portable radio from his belt. “Okay, it’s finished,” he said into his mic, “we’re ready for extraction here.”

“Roger that,” a voice crackled back over the transmission. “Nice work, you’re well ahead of schedule. Your pick-up will arrive in three minutes.”

Three minutes later, one block west of their position, a Bell 205 helicopter touched down in the middle of a small grassy soccer field. Los Diablos were there waiting and they quickly shoved their hostage aboard.

Once they were all inside the helicopter, Ichi Fujita, who was seated up front to oversee end of the operation, patted the pilot on the shoulder and signalled for him to take off.

...

Back at the ambush sight, after the helicopter had risen from the soccer field and started to fly off into the distance, a lone figure suddenly emerged from one of the bullet-riddled limousines.

It was Utaro Satsugai. The youngest of the Lone Wolves was somehow still alive, even with four bullet wounds now gushing blood profusely from his torso. He slumped out of the door and sat there wheezing against the side of the vehicle. He could do little more than sit there and watch as the Bell 205 helicopter slowly disappeared out of view, his eyes narrowing with undying determination despite it all.

“My kumicho, I will… save you,” he choked. “Don’t count… this wolf… out of the game just yet.”

Utaro reached into his coat and pulled out his personal iPhone, fumbling with it hopelessly as his fingers attempted to dial the appropriate digits. He had time to make one phone call. Only one. He reached one of his emergency contacts in Kobe, Japan and he quickly told them of all that had just transpired.

No sooner was his final task complete, the iPhone shattered on the pavement next to Utaro’s still, dead hand