Read Online Linnear 03 - White Ninja by Eric Van Lustbader - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Eric Van Lustbader
Tags: Fiction, Action & Adventure
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Omukae?'
Senjin grinned without warmth. 'Pretend I don't.'
Tomi nodded, 'An omukae is a messenger from another world. A kind of demon.'
'Or an angel.'
'Yes,' Tomi said, trying to get moisture into her mouth. 'Or an angel. But, either way, an omukae is not of this world.' By not of this world, Senjin knew she meant Japan. 'It is the opinion of some of the staff that the commander - ' She paused, mired in the rigid social structure that made it something of a sin to criticize one's superior.
'Yes, Sergeant,' Senjin said in a voice of steel. 'As I have said, you have my permission to speak your mind.'
'It is the opinion of some of the staff,' Tomi began again, 'that the commander sometimes performs his duty as if he were, indeed, an omukae. As if he cares more about himself than he does the division or the department itself.'
Tell me, Sergeant, is that your opinion as well?'
Tomi was disconcerted. This juxtaposition of formal conversation and close proximity, intimate eye contact, was leaving her breathless. Don't let him see - 'To give you a perfectly honest - '
'Wait,' Senjin said sharply, silencing her. 'That was an unfair question. I withdraw it. You see, Sergeant, you and I share something. We are, each in our own ways, outcasts in the department. The series of unfortunate and untimely deaths of division commanders combined with the rapid advancement of my career in the field to bring me into prominence in Homicide. Perhaps unwanted prominence, as far as some are concerned, hm?'
Tomi said nothing. She was immensely grateful that her commander had omitted discussing her own plight inside the department, knowing that they both understood its inherent nature. She was also thinking of the incident that, as Senjin had indicated, had brought him into prominence. For months, a clan of particularly homicidal Yakuza seemed to be operating right under the noses of the Tokyo police. All efforts to apprehend the members of this clan had been unsuccessful.
Until Senjin Omukae had gone clandestinely undercover. Clandestine, meaning unknown to the department. He had discovered an astonishing web of graft, extortion, cover-up and, ultimately, murder being perpetrated by certain officers of the Homicide division who were conspiring with the oyabun - the boss - of the Yakuza clan. Senjin had, virtually singlehandedly, brought them all down.
The department owed him an enormous debt. Because of his work, the affair was handled internally. The intrusive media never got wmd of the scandal and, thus, no further loss of face was incurred. As it was, Tomi knew, many resignations were tendered within the department.
Senjin broke away from their intimate orbit, went back behind his desk. Tomi felt a mixture of relief and loss, which further disturbed her.
Senjin thought a moment, pulling languidly on his cigarette, which was almost finished. 'Individualism in the pursuit of justice,' he said at length, 'is no longer a
social crime. That is my considered opinion, and you are free to repeat that to the staff.'
Senjin took a last puff, ground out the butt in an ashtray. 'But since you've brought up the subject, I might as well enlighten you. Our duties here are varied, but more or less our most vital function is to keep Tokyo as free as possible of terrorist incursion. Unless you were asleep through your orientation courses, you know that terrorists don't think like the rest of our citizenry. They act in a chaotic fashion; they are anarchic - which means that they think like individuals. My duty - our duty, Sergeant - is to apprehend these terrorists before they can do any damage. I have found that by far the best way to do this is to learn to think like one. And my record - and the record of this division since I joined it five years ago - bears out the wisdom of my strategy.' His gaze met Tomi's again. 'Have I made myself clear?'
'Perfectly, sir.'
'Good/ Senjin said. He swung away, stared out of the window again. 'Now that the Mariko
Senjin grinned without warmth. 'Pretend I don't.'
Tomi nodded, 'An omukae is a messenger from another world. A kind of demon.'
'Or an angel.'
'Yes,' Tomi said, trying to get moisture into her mouth. 'Or an angel. But, either way, an omukae is not of this world.' By not of this world, Senjin knew she meant Japan. 'It is the opinion of some of the staff that the commander - ' She paused, mired in the rigid social structure that made it something of a sin to criticize one's superior.
'Yes, Sergeant,' Senjin said in a voice of steel. 'As I have said, you have my permission to speak your mind.'
'It is the opinion of some of the staff,' Tomi began again, 'that the commander sometimes performs his duty as if he were, indeed, an omukae. As if he cares more about himself than he does the division or the department itself.'
Tell me, Sergeant, is that your opinion as well?'
Tomi was disconcerted. This juxtaposition of formal conversation and close proximity, intimate eye contact, was leaving her breathless. Don't let him see - 'To give you a perfectly honest - '
'Wait,' Senjin said sharply, silencing her. 'That was an unfair question. I withdraw it. You see, Sergeant, you and I share something. We are, each in our own ways, outcasts in the department. The series of unfortunate and untimely deaths of division commanders combined with the rapid advancement of my career in the field to bring me into prominence in Homicide. Perhaps unwanted prominence, as far as some are concerned, hm?'
Tomi said nothing. She was immensely grateful that her commander had omitted discussing her own plight inside the department, knowing that they both understood its inherent nature. She was also thinking of the incident that, as Senjin had indicated, had brought him into prominence. For months, a clan of particularly homicidal Yakuza seemed to be operating right under the noses of the Tokyo police. All efforts to apprehend the members of this clan had been unsuccessful.
Until Senjin Omukae had gone clandestinely undercover. Clandestine, meaning unknown to the department. He had discovered an astonishing web of graft, extortion, cover-up and, ultimately, murder being perpetrated by certain officers of the Homicide division who were conspiring with the oyabun - the boss - of the Yakuza clan. Senjin had, virtually singlehandedly, brought them all down.
The department owed him an enormous debt. Because of his work, the affair was handled internally. The intrusive media never got wmd of the scandal and, thus, no further loss of face was incurred. As it was, Tomi knew, many resignations were tendered within the department.
Senjin broke away from their intimate orbit, went back behind his desk. Tomi felt a mixture of relief and loss, which further disturbed her.
Senjin thought a moment, pulling languidly on his cigarette, which was almost finished. 'Individualism in the pursuit of justice,' he said at length, 'is no longer a
social crime. That is my considered opinion, and you are free to repeat that to the staff.'
Senjin took a last puff, ground out the butt in an ashtray. 'But since you've brought up the subject, I might as well enlighten you. Our duties here are varied, but more or less our most vital function is to keep Tokyo as free as possible of terrorist incursion. Unless you were asleep through your orientation courses, you know that terrorists don't think like the rest of our citizenry. They act in a chaotic fashion; they are anarchic - which means that they think like individuals. My duty - our duty, Sergeant - is to apprehend these terrorists before they can do any damage. I have found that by far the best way to do this is to learn to think like one. And my record - and the record of this division since I joined it five years ago - bears out the wisdom of my strategy.' His gaze met Tomi's again. 'Have I made myself clear?'
'Perfectly, sir.'
'Good/ Senjin said. He swung away, stared out of the window again. 'Now that the Mariko
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