Vaudeville Hook

Cliff kept his head down out of the wind as he walked ahead. The restaurant was just up ahead. In his younger days, the Army trained him to close with the enemy. He was doing that now, only he didn’t even have a weapon to rely on. It was him and his wits against the yakuza’s cunning. But his biggest weakness was also his biggest advantage: the language barrier.

“It’s easy. Just walk up, act dumb, and ask for a cigarette. Easy.” Cliff told himself with a bit of a sigh. The pre-action jitters were in his veins now. “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He restoreth my soul. He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Yeah, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me. Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies. Thou anointest my head with oil. My cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.”

As Cliff finished his prayer, he brought the crucifix up from around his neck and kissed it before letting it fall back under his shirt.

“Show time.” he said to himself as he drew closer to the restaurant.

Two men were standing outside. They were wearing suits that had muted but colorful fabric. Nothing too loud to announce presence, but enough to stand out from the crowd. One man was wearing a pair of cheap sunglasses, despite the sun having set already. Cliff approached him and put on his best dumb grin.

“Hey! Excuse me! You guys happen to have a cigarette?”

The two men turned to him, seemingly perturbed by his English. Cliff quickly made a gesture with his two fingers and repeated the word “cigarette” again. The two men looked at each other and then stepped to close the distance. Cliff was sure he could take them in a hand-to-hand fight, but he wasn’t here to fight and there was no telling what other kinds of weapons they were carrying. They spoke in their native tongue and were very clipped with their words.

Cliff stepped back and put his hands up in mock surrender. He tried to placate them by only asking for a cigarette but then said he was a tourist. It was a convincing enough cover. After all, dumb Americans were almost always tourists. He figured it’d go over well. The two men were conversing among each other when they started pointing out his leather jacket and other things he had. Then one opened the door and the other stepped behind him. He felt an arm around his back and a gentle amount of pressure placed on it.

Aw hell. Cliff stepped in like they wanted, and gave them a dumb look of confusion on his face that was only half-acted. As he turned to look at them, he chanced a look out the doorway he was stepping through and saw Sable off in the distance, watching him like an owl with wide eyes. This was not part of the plan, but he hoped she wasn’t going to do anything stupid yet. He dared not let his eyes linger on her, lest he give their plan away before it got off the ground. As he looked ahead while being ushered in, he noticed the decor was very reminiscent of the Italian restaurants from back home.

Outside

Sable watched the yakuza men put their arm around Cliff and bring him into the restaurant. She bristled. Her mind raced. This wasn’t part of the plan. Not at all. She bit her thumbnail and stared into the darkened windows of the storefront. No matter what she willed, she couldn’t see inside. But it wasn’t like she could just walk right in and try to find him. That’d blow both their covers, and then they’d most likely be killed.

She stood there and ran ideas through her mind, but nothing seemed good. Standing there and watching definitely wasn’t going to do much good either. She hated to do it, but the only one who could help her was Brooks. So she flipped the collar up on her black peacoat and stalked off down the road towards the pastry shop. She stepped it out to get there as quickly as possible without looking like she was in a hurry.

When she arrived, she noticed Brooks immediately. She took a seat at the other side of the small table he was at. She had a very unhappy expression on her face, one that Brooks didn’t bother to dissuade with a smile on his part.

“What’s the matter?” he asked her.

“They took him inside.” Sable said in a low tone.

“Into the restaurant?”

“Yeah.”

“Well shit…” was all Brooks said as he bit into a melon pan.

“That’s it?”

“Hmm?” Brooks still had his mouth full.

“We gotta go get him back!” Sable replied with a harsh but quiet voice.

“Get him back?”

“Yes! He’s in the lion’s den right now! We need to get him out!”

“You need to settle down.”

“Excuse me?”

“Right now we have no idea what’s going on. If we go in there, we could screw the pooch on the whole mission.”

“So what, we’re just going to sit here with our thumbs up our asses and hope he waltzes in later?”

“You get real comfortable having to let things work themselves out on their own with this job. You can’t control everything, and being as proactive as you can doesn’t mean that things can’t still go wrong. For now, all we can do is wait, and hope that Daniel comes out of the den.”

Sable clenched her teeth but ultimately relented. She wasn’t happy about having to wait it out, but Brooks was right. There were a lot of unknowns, and they’d just have to wait and see what happened at this point. Sable tried to relax and meditate as she sat there across from Brooks. She willed herself to let the frustration release from her mind and focused instead on trying to imagine Cliff walking through the door to the shop.

At the restaurant

It was bizarre. Somewhere so far away could still seem like a place he’d find just down the street. He noticed there was an area ahead of him with a large door. The man in front of him opened it and walked in, leading him into a smoking lounge of sorts. The scent of tobacco was rife throughout the room. They led him to a large table in the corner full of other yakuza men who were watching him with anticipation. He tried to look casual about it, but it was hard.

A chair was pulled out for him. He sat down in it and the two men sat beside him. He looked around, putting that dumb look back on his face. One of the men produced a cigarette and handed it to him. He took it and then looked up as one of them took out a lighter. He made a big smile and waved it off to show off his own lighter. The man looked a bit offended, but shrugged and let him light his own cigarette.

This was it. This was his chance. With six other people at the table, he could only do so much to avoid suspicion with his actions. So, as he practiced, he quickly snapped the photos. There was a small bar that stood up near the hinge of the lighter, with a small wheel next to it to advance the film. He had cased the table on his way in. The man opposite him was likely some kind of underboss. He’d need his photo more than anyone else’s, but getting them all was the prize. It was also very tricky.

Cliff acted like the lighter was giving him trouble. As if it was refusing to light properly. He cursed, scrunched up his face in annoyance, and made all the necessary motions he was used to making when a lighter didn’t work. He made sure his fingers were clear of the actual camera lens in the body of the lighter. He got off three photos before he decided to stop playing and finally lit the cigarette between his lips. Then he closed it and pocketed it to keep them from noticing the differences between the Echo 8 and a regular Zippo lighter.

It had been a long while since Cliff smoked. He had decided to quit after the service. Turn over a new leaf in his life. It was then that he decided to take up the robes of a priest and to try to go straight-laced as much as possible. He still had the occasional drink, but smoking was something he endeavored to quit altogether. It was odd to have to be doing it again, but the ends justified the means, as they said. He took a drag and let the nicotine calm his nerves.

The yakuza thugs smiled. They were gesturing to the cigarette and pointing at him; it must’ve been very obvious that he was more relaxed. He heard them say a word that sounded like “guy gin” over and over. They laughed together, so Cliff sat and enjoyed his cigarette as much as he could. He couldn’t help but notice they had more pronounced fangs in their mouths. One spoke up in broken accented English.

“Where you from?” he asked.

Cliff looked at the man. It was one of the guys who was standing outside. He still had his sunglasses on, which was a bit humorous in their current accommodation. He sat up and took another drag to give him time to think. If these were their guys, and there was a lot of evidence supporting that fact, then why didn’t they speak English well? Maybe it was a trick. Maybe they were testing him. If they were working with Western vampires, they could know a lot of the English language. Or maybe this guy was low enough to not have to worry about that. Cliff spoke up.

“Oh, I’m from Maine. America.”

“Ohh yankee!”

The rest of the table conferred, nodded, and then the man spoke up again.

“You, yankee! Why you here?”

Cliff had to think fast. His cover.

“I’m-”

No, that wouldn’t work. These were vampires. Telling them he was a priest would be like telling a bear he was a hunter.

“-just traveling. Seeing the sights. Had to get away from my woman for a bit while she’s in Tokyo. Y’know how it is.”

The man nodded, told the others, and the table was soon in an uproar of laughter. The other man beside him slapped him on the back. Cliff allowed himself a wry smile.

“You come here to leave woman? You yankees crazy! Why come here?”

This could be told truthfully, so he leaned into that.

“I like the countryside. Never was big on cities back home. Too noisy. I like being outdoors. Fishing. Hunting. Hiking. It’s nice out here. Reminds me of home.”

Another few minutes spent with the yakuza man translating his spiel, and Cliff realized he understood a lot of what he said. The man was clearly putting on a show for him with his accent and broken English. He didn’t let the revelation show on his face. The man looked back as the others all nodded in solemn agreement. Cliff decided to keep this up enough to get one more cigarette from them. He made longer drags and was sure not to blow the smoke into anyone’s face.

“You smoke often? You look like you want that done quick.” The man said.

“The woman doesn’t like it when I smoke around her, so I don’t get a lot of chances to.”

The men nodded in agreement, smiled, and gave him a pat on the shoulder. A woman came by and asked something in Japanese and the underboss looking man waved her away. She bowed and left. Cliff finished the cigarette and made a motion for another. The man next to him who gave him one before pointed and argued with the other one, who grumbled and produced another cigarette. He made the same play and got pictures of the last three members at the table before lighting it up. He took another long drag and smiled.

“You rough guy,” the man said to him. “What you do before this?”

Cliff thought about it. The men seemed to all pay closer attention to him as he sat and deeply reflected on his military career he flushed down the drain.

“I was in the Army. 82nd Airborne. Combat operations.”

The man translating looked stunned and hurriedly spoke to the others. They all leaned forward and one spoke the word again. “Rakkasan.”

“You fight war?”

“I did.”

“Where you fight?”

“Grenada, Honduras, but I never saw any real action until I was in Panama, and then the Persian Gulf.”

The men looked at him with narrowed eyes and nodded. The woman came back and passed out some ochoko cups and a sake bottle. The underboss took the bottle and the other thugs passed around the cups. One ended up in front of Cliff. The bottle was passed and the cups were filled. Cliff was shown to hold the cup out for the bottle as it filled the other glasses. He watched them all raise their glasses and he followed suit, clinking them altogether.

“Kanpai,” the underboss said, which was echoed by the rest of the table.

The men all drank the sake, and Cliff wasn’t going to be rude. He too took a drink, and the sake punched him in the face. He covered his mouth as he coughed and almost doubled over. The yakuza chuckled together.

“You ok, rakkasan! Have fun time! Come see us when you want avoid woman again!”

The table erupted in laughter again and the two men got up and helped Cliff out of his seat just as a trio of women came in to serve the table dinner. Cliff didn’t stick around. He let the two doormen lead him back out and show him on his way. The sake still burned in his throat as he waved at them and headed out down the street. He chanced a look at the building across the way and noticed Sable was gone.