As Oyabun of the Matsumori Yakuza, Ren's domain is a master class in lordly dominance. This section of the house boasts a spectacular view of the mountainside and the city below. It's easy to imagine some medieval warrior watching the raging hordes surging up the mountain to attack him and crushing his enemies with superior firepower.
Also, firepower is very much in evidence now because the patrolling guards outside are making no effort to be unobtrusive. The show of force is unsettling; traditionally, one used for an enemy and not an ally. We've made proper recompense for the disaster two months ago, but it's possible Ren still holds a grudge. He's tending to a tiny bonsai tree, pliers in hand, and steps back to survey it, snipping off another tiny branch before deigning to put the tool down and turn to us.
Welcome Michael MacTavish, young Chieftain. I trust your journey here was comfortable?'
Of course,' I bow my head and smile, and we continue with a round of pleasantries until Ren is satisfied. "While we are eager to discuss this potential new project," he says, "we have made a new acquaintance that seems to know your family quite well in a way that lessens our confidence in our partnership considerably. He nods to his son who walks to a small adjoining room, opening the door.
"Hey boss, or should I just say Michael now," Xenia says. "Now that I don't work for you anymore.'
What the feck are you doing here, Xenia?" I say, so on fire with rage that feels like my skin is ready to split, trying to hold it all in.
It's been her. All along.
The one logical and stupidly obvious choice, our clever little mastermind who would always have her fingers in everything.
"Now don't get cranky with me,' she says cheerfully. "You're the ones who insisted on making things so boring recently."
Minato holds out his hand graciously, she takes it, allowing him to lead her to a seat on a silk covered couch. "Can I get you a drink?" he says, his glee and malice radiating bright enough to light up the mountaintop.
That would be lovely," Xenia says, "Junmai Daiginjo sake, if you have it. Gentlemen, I would like to speak with Michael for a moment. This of course, does not change our agreement and I am certain you will be listening in on the devices you have stationed throughout this room." She points to Ren's massive desk, then over to a lantern hanging by the window, and craning her neck, nods at a beautiful enamel chest by the door, her lips twitching with amusement.
Minato hands her a delicate cup of sake. "Father?"
Ren nods. "We will allow it. Fifteen minutes, no more.'
I wait till the door is closed, though I'm not sure why, given the fact that father and son are likely piled on top of each other, avidly turning up the listening devices as loud as they can.
My family has given you everything, Xenia," I say.
I'm halfway across the enormous room, watching her delicately sip her sake, calculating the number of ways that I can kill her with the implements in the room. The pruning shears, not sharp enough, there's plenty of glass to break, priceless pottery I can use. I can stab the bitch with a pen through the eye, if I take one off Ren's desk.
"Well, that's true. You did give me everything," she allows. There's a strange, flat shine to her eyes that I've never seen before. I remember times when she'd been deep into her work, where she'd almost abandoned her proper, well-bred American persona, but never anything like this. She's kept this part of her shoved down and concealed behind multiple layers in the same way that I thought she'd been protecting our system.
"It can't be more money," I say calmly as I stroll slowly across the room.
"No," she agrees.
"It can't be toys; your lab is bigger than the one allocated for the UK Ministry of Defence."
"Also true," she agrees.
Thinking of the security breaches and when they escalated, I ponder, "I'm thinking about when ye must have gotten bored and impatient. I'm thinking ye kicked off your sick little round of games about three years ago?"
"Yeah," she says, taking another ladylike sip. "Remember that Colombian deal when the jet carrying the product crashed and they blamed you for the loss? Man, that was a mess to clean up." She chuckles, and even her laugh is strange and unfocused as if she's seen other people do it and knew that it's a human response so she thought she'd give it a try. This new Xenia is shocking, but what hits me the hardest is how much more natural it feels on her, like she shed her stifling coat of normalcy and the monster is happy to stretch free.
"So," I continue, mind racing. "It's not the money. It's not the toys. I'm almost certain there's no hidden motive of revenge, a deep-seated hatred because ye lost someone ye loved to a MacTavish maneuver."
She nods pleasantly. "No, none of those things."
I have six soldiers here. My mind races through the possibilities. Every MacTavish is equipped with a tracker so a rescue team can find us anywhere on the globe. However, rescue only comes when they're alerted to disaster and even then, help would be ten hours away. We don't have any closer allies than the Matsumori Yakuza in Japan, no one loyal enough to our family who would step in.
There must be fifty guards on this estate. And my wife is alone with only Ian. All our weapons surrendered upon entry as is expected from an ally. This sends the rage cycling through me again with a leaden undertone of terror for my wife.
"While I recognize this is not a Bond film, and you haven't been vibrating with the need to explain your dastardly plan," I say coldly. "I would, of course, enjoy understanding why.' Straightening my cuffs as I reach down to take my own drink from the sideboard, I twist my watch, pressing the button on the back that is only used to signal the most dire of emergencies. The reality here is that Xenia could anticipate any emergency signal we send out, because she created all of them.
Except for this watch, passed down from my father.
"Well," she says thoughtfully, settling more comfortably against the cushions. "I guess I just wanted to see if I could do it." There's no regret there, no guilt. Not even satisfaction, really. Her expression is blank.
"You've killed over one hundred MacTavishes over these last three years," I say. "Ye did it because ye just wanted to see if ye could?'
"Well, it's sweet that you all trusted me," she says. "And who can blame you, because I am very clever. But I'm a girl who likes to keep busy and things were getting a bit dull with this irritating slide into the family's legitimate focus. It was easy enough to do my work while coming up with a few things to entertain myself on the side. Even if your father didn't narrow it down, Georges was becoming suspicious of me," she says sourly. "You'd really think that if you fucked a man long and well enough, he'd be happy to mind his own goddamn business. But I could see his hesitation, how he'd start double-checking certain programs with that little concerned frown he always gets."
She chuckles fondly. "Really, it's so cute. So, now I'm torn between a massive flameout where I turn every ally you have against you and stand back to watch the carnage or just move on. I've left enough land mines that even if you trigger half of them, the MacTavish Mafia will be a laughingstock. And probably a bunch of you dead."
Xenia,' I say gently, appealing to you for the loyalty we've shown you, or the times that we've saved your life seems unlikely to be useful at this point.'
"This is true,' she says. "Your cute little wife? We were talking about how you must be a little bit crazy to be a Chieftain and I told her; I also have to be a little bit crazy handling the digital defense department as well. She didn't even get a tingle of concern at that. I'll go find something new and fun to do. I'm giving the Matsumoris enough information tonight that they should be deeply fond of me for quite a while, and happily offer protection as I make my next move."
"As clever as ye are," I say, barely keeping myself from leaping on her and pulverizing her face. "Ye do realize I could fecking gut ye like a fish before they could even get the door open."
"Yes, that," she says tapping her finger to her lips thoughtfully. "But then, your wifey. Sweet little Sophie. Jesus Christ, the way you two look at each other is so fucking sweet. I got a cavity every time I was in the same room with the two of you. Anyway, things could go so very badly for her if you got all stabby right now."
"So, what's your plan then?" I say, seating myself with my drink. I can throw this glass hard enough to cave in the side of her skull. Right on her left temple where the bones of the skull are thinnest. This is a good, heavy piece of well-crafted crystal. But Xenia is right. What I need now is time. Time to stretch this fucking disaster out until I can see Ren's play in this, reunite with my wife, and possibly use one of the Matsumoris as a hostage to get out of here.
And so we talk, Xenia and I, until the door opens again.
"Michael!"
Sophie races across the room to me. "What's happening here? The guards just pulled Himari and me out of her room, and-" She turns, her eyes widening with shock as she spots Xenia still giving that strange, blank little smile, her eyes flat and dull.
"Now Sophie, it's important that you don't take this personally," Xenia says graciously. "Our karaoke sessions when we were out with the girls? I really enjoyed them. And outing your mom to Robert Taylor? That was so much fun. He's such a fucking moron. There's nothing in this game that was going to bring his syndicate out of the hole he dug it into. Good God," she says with a chuckle, "that man is a walking septic tank. However, with your mom and you being so close to the family, I knew that cut would be the deepest."
There's a low rumble, like an earthquake, or a huge freight train passing close by. The far wall of the room crumbles, exploding inward and sending a ton of rubble and rock through the room.
Pulling Sophie behind the couch, I rise just enough to yank one of Ren's ceremonial daggers off its wall scone, mentally thanking him for his weapon's display. The gunfire is thunderous, percussive rounds of bullets spraying everywhere but near us. Rolling, I kick Xenia's chair with all my strength, sending it skidding across the room and into the line of fire. The chair and the woman sitting in it explode, shards of wood and bloody silk flying loose.
A sword slams down right where my head had been and I surge up with the dagger. Ren is the one wielding the weapon, both hands fastened confidently around the gleaming sword's grip and as he raises it again, I throw my dagger, sending it into his right eye.
His shock freezes on his face as he bleeds out. Did he really think I would engage him in some misplaced sense of honor?
"Michael!" Ethan roars, "Do ye have Sophie?"
"Aye," I say, checking to make sure the room is cleared before helping her to her feet. Minato is crumpled by the door, nothing but bloody scraps of flesh. I can hear three more explosions, close enough to crack the marble floor and shatter the remaining intact windows.
"That would be Uncle Lachlan and Logan," Ethan shouts. "Time to go."
Huge sections of the house are ablaze and I can hear the dim sound of helicopter blades, more than one chopper, most likely.
Ethan speaks into a headset. "Did ye get all three of the guard towers?" Another thunderous explosion rumbles through the courtyard and a fireball shoots up into the night sky.
"I guess that means yes," I say. Keeping my arm around my wife as we dodge around the debris and out into the garden. The first helicopter is already landing close by as gunfire intensifies on the other side of the castle.
"Ye two are in this one." Duncan materializes next to us; his face covered in black ash and a huge grin. "Get your arses in. Leave now. Talk later."
"Agreed," I nod, lifting Sophie into the helicopter before climbing in myself. Duncan's eyes narrow as he looks behind me.
"That would be Xenia, then."
"What's left of her," I say grimly. The seats are crowded by the time the chopper rises, nose dipping slightly before it gains speed, heading toward the brilliant neon smear of Tokyo. I can still hear the explosions behind us, and as I look back, there's a section of the hillside that's broken loose, surging over what's left of the Matsumori empire.
On a MacTavish jet, heading home…
"How?" I say, making sure that Sophie's buckled in as the jet takes off. "I was spending every second trying to think of how I was going to draw this fecker out for the ten hours it would take ye to get here."noveldrama
"Thank Georges," Da nods to him. Georges isn't puffed up with pride. He's miserable, slumped in his seat. "I'm thinking you'll need hours to explain, but first, ye got the blocker off all the MacTavish phones that Xenia placed, trying to stop us all from reaching each other."
"What? Thank me!" Uncle Lachlan says indignantly, "I got the name out of Taylor in less than two hours." He looks at Da. "Ye still owe me that fifty pounds, brother."
"Thank Martha," Logan interrupts. "Taylor tried to capture your ma again," he explains to Sophie. "Did ye know your ma could shoot? She took him down like a bag of bricks and we got the information about Xenia – and may she rot in hell – out of him."
"No, I got it out of him," Uncle Lachlan says again.
"The point is, we had a team of three jets and every MacTavish within a fifty-mile radius deployed within the hour," Da says. "We were already landing when ye were on your way to the meeting."
"I still think Mason's idea was a thing of beauty," Logan says. "Set strategic charges, explode the hilltop, bring it down on the compound. That did a lot of the work."
"Yes, well your over-enthusiastic application of the C4 also triggered that second landslide," Mason said sourly. "You know, sending a million tons of dirt and rock right where the helicopters would have been if we didn't take off in time?"
The explanations and intermittent bickering continue as I put Sophie on my lap, covering her with a blanket. "Are ye all right?"
"I'm still…" she shakes her head. "It's going to take a while before this all sorts into some kind of order in my head. But they all came, didn't they?"
This is the largest executive jet we have in the MacTavish fleet, and it's still filled to bursting with a multitude of MacTavi.
"Aye, love."
"This is probably a weird time to tell you this," she whispers. "But first, I love you. I love you so much. I always have. Since the first time I saw you."
"Butterfly, I love ye right back. More than I thought possible." I kiss her fiercely. "More than I can say."
"Also," she leans in close enough that her lips touch my ear. "We're pregnant."