It figured. The Mino-gumi was known everywhere as the best-run Yakuza syndicate of them all. Hardened criminals, they considered themselves modern-day samurai, upholding some centuries-old code of honor. It was a contradiction only the Japanese mind could fully accommodate.
Heavy-duty connections, Vance told himself, the very best. Which meant Novosty was in even bigger trouble than he probably imagined. The latest rumor in the world of hot money was that Tanzan Mino and his Yakuza had, through dummy fronts, just bought up half of Hawaii. If that were true, it meant he laundered real money these days. Who the hell needed a small-time operator like Alex?
Then the man reached in and caught Eva's arm, pulling her into the midday glare.
Thank God, he thought, she still looks vaguely okay. Will she be able to stay on top of this once it gets moving?
He noticed she was wearing a new brown dress, but her short hair was tangled, her face streaked with pain.
The bastards. They must have worked her over, trying to find out everything she knew.
There were two "representatives," Novosty had said. So the other man was still in the limo, in the driver's seat, covering in case there was trouble.
Good move. Because there was definitely going to be trouble. A lot of it. Tanzan Mino's goons were about to have all the trouble they could handle.
"Michael, oh, Christ." She finally recognized him. "Thank God. Just give them—"
"Can you understand what's going on here?" He raised his hand. "These guys are kobun, professional hit men. They have a very sick sense of humor. They also have no intention of—"