Mad Dog - VI

“Remember. We split amongst the hideouts in quarters.”

“Quarters?” Yuura asks.

“The house. The two apartments. And wherever else—so, when we’re on the job, and have to go someplace. Point is, it’s probably not going to be that hard to deal with. As long as Stillwater-san doesn’t show up, there should be three or four of them at a minimum, and by then it should be easy work to take care of them.”

I look out the window of our rental car. We’re looking down a hill in Iikura.

There’s a small condominium nearby. Not too tall, maybe five floors at best. Climable, even. It’s where Zhang’s gang are. Not too far from our position.

There’s something about it that makes it seem fancier than others. I think it’s the fast the concrete is all fancy and textured, with different colours. I also think it’s because it’s not that big, and rich people live in smaller condos, while poor people get a big, packed building.

Good.

This means the Tearer is rich. So when I beat them up, I have more money to take.

“What do we say when they ask us why we’re here?” asks Yuura.

“Asks us? Who?”

“Concerned parents, maybe? We’re right next to a high-school.”

Just down the street to our right is a high school, and to our left is the building we’re eyeing. It’s not the end of the day yet, so there are no students walking around. But Yuura is worried anyway. Typical Yuura.

“Just pretend you’re waiting for your kids.”

“Do I look old enough to be a mother?”

“I—” Zhang stops. “I don’t know the right answer to that question, so I’m going to not reply.”

“Also, if they’re my kids, then what are you? The creepy uncle?”

“I can play the role of daddy very well.”

“I think I puked a little.”

I keep my eyes focused, working their way around the building. “Will you recognise your gang-mates, Zhang?”

“Of course. I know just about everyone.”

Yuura raises an eyebrow. “Don’t you think they’ll recognise you?”

“Oh, for sure. But the alternatives aren’t exactly grand. If I wear a ski mask that’d just make me stick out like an unhammered nail. You know how many celebrities you pass on the street, just cause you don’t think they’ll be there? At least one. Same principle.”

As she watches him speak, Yuura lets out a reluctant sigh. “Okay. Just to make sure. Once you see someone you recognise, you’re going to grab them and stuff them inside the car. Then we’re going to tie them up, take their key, and break inside the building.”

“You got it.”

I raise a hand.

“Yes?” Yuura says.

“I have a question.” I wait for an answer.

“...Yes?”

“Is it too late to say this is bad idea?”

“No. Actually, you just gave me the confidence to say I feel the same way.” Yuura sounds tired. “Like, what if the guy we kidnap doesn’t have the key?”

“We obviously wait until someone else comes to check on them,” Zhang says.

“Then?”

“Rinse and repeat. The trunk’s big enough to stuff a few. We just gotta take them one by one, and eventually, one of them will have the key, and voila. Easy access.”

I nod in reply, and begin to warm up to the idea. “That has lot of sense, Zhang. You are smart man.”

The sound of a half-wail comes from Yuura’s throat. The wail of joy, no doubt. “I, well, it’s…” She pauses. “I mean—” Yuura stops herself for good, relaxes into her seat, and keeps her eyes on the view outside.

We wait. Passing the time in silence, we just sit in our seats, not moving, and watch. Watch. Watch. Watch. A lot of time passes like this. Slowly. Like riding along the current of a pond. My stomach growls, and I realise I’m starting to get a bit hungry.

“Do any of you have food?”

“Yeah.”

Zhang hands me a small plastic packet. There’s a drawing of a gummy fish hanging on a line. I bite open the snack.

“What is this?”

There’s a plastic fishing rod inside, and a small plastic tray. On the tray, is a intricate mould, with a gummy shark, and a long line coming out of its mouth. I look to my left, and notice Zhang focusing on the outside.

I decide to take this battle alone. I hook the fishing rod at the end of the gummy line connecting to the shark, and slowly work my way to taking it out. It is harder than it looks. With too strong a tug, the line will break off, rendering victory impossible. And with too soft a tug, the gummy refuses to break from the mould, making progress non-existent…

When it comes to food puzzles, the Japanese truly are masters of their craft…

“There!” Zhang calls. “I see one of them, that guy!”

“D-do we go for it?”

I look outside the window. Coming from the building is a well-built man. The one Zhang met at the mall, to be specific. Tall. Black-hair. Big jacket. He doesn’t see us at all, and is going down the road at a decline.

The car grows loud with the sound of opened doors. I follow Zhang out, and tail the two. At the same time, I realise there are a few students coming up the hill, and going in our general direction.

“Aren’t they supposed to be in class?” asks Zhang.

“Yeah,” Yuura feels for an answer. “But they could be skipping class, going home on a sick leave, I dunno!”

“I can scare them away.” I nod excitedly. “I’ll pretend to be an angry dog. Or a homeless person. I possess the uncanny ability to frighten children.”

“Uh, what?” Yuura shakes her head nervously. “But, but he’d see!”

“Just go for it,” Zhang shoots out. “Go homeless!”

I crack my knuckles and drop to all fours. I growl quietly. Warming myself up. Then just as quickly, I run down the hill, yelling and screaming at the kids.

“AWOOOO!”

The high schoolers look at me, seeming startled. They don’t quite register I’m the enemy yet.

“AWOOOO!!!” I growl even louder and make a mad dash at them.

Understanding that they’re my target, the high schoolers run downhill and let out shrill, high school cries. After hearing my growls, even the man we’re after is looking at me, eyes wide open. He doesn’t take long to react.

“Get away, you hobo!” He yells in broken Japanese. “Get away!”

There’s the sound of fast footsteps. He doesn’t even have time to react. Zhang appears behind the man, and puts him into a chokehold, while Yuura stuffs a bag over his head. As the man’s hands instinctively flick up to claw at Zhang’s chokehold, Yuura ties a rope around his wrists.

The man goes limp. Lack of oxygen. The two guide his weak footsteps to the back of the car and put him there, before tying his legs too. Zhang feels the man’s body, going through every pocket for a key.

He shakes his head. “Nothing.”

Yuura bites her bottom lip. “Dammit. Dammit.” She’s breathing hard. “What do we do?”

The man starts squirming about. Like a fish on land. “Nǐ sǐ dìng le, Zhang! Nǐ yǐjīng sǐle!” You’re dead, Zhang! You’re dead already!

He keeps repeating profanities in Chinese and making a physical fuss. A lot about parents, a lot about mothers, and a lot about ancestors, too. Sometimes all three in one bed. Very creative.

“What if someone sees him?” asks Yuura. “Maybe they have a pager system, or a way of communicating, or GPS… They’re going to be very suspicious how he’s conveniently stuck in one place.”

“You’re dead!” he yells in Japanese this time. “We know you and friend up to! Once we done here, we find that kid a—”

Zhang stuffs a towel in the man’s mouth and continues from where he left off. “Calm down, Yuura-san. You think I didn’t think that through?” Zhang pulls out a phone he got from the man’s pocket. “They call up every hour or so to see if we’re fine. When they do it for Prophanity-san here, we force the guy to reply and confess he’s fine. Easy.”

“Mmm yoouuu,” spits the man. “IneberIneber!”

“What if he doesn’t?” Yuura asks.

“I cup his balls in my hand,” Zhang goes on, miming with his fingers. “Squeeze a bit, and see if he feels the same way. There’s no quicker way to a man’s rationality than threatening what’s down under.”

“Zhang’s right,” I agree. “Few men possess the testicular fortitude to resist a direct blow.”

“So this is the plan then? We just keep waiting as they leave the apartment, and stuff them in a car until one of them has the key?”

Zhang shrugs. “Any other ideas?”

“No. But won’t they get suspicious after a while? That all of them are saying they're fine, while conveniently turning up late to whatever they should be at?”

The plan starts to remind me of something. It starts to remind me of the futility of catching water with a sieve. After so many convincing arguments from Yuura, I realise that it might be better to abandon the plan altogether. What to do now?

I look up at the apartment complex with a slight uptilt of my head. It’s small enough that I can get it all in view. Small enough to fit in my eyes, without great effort. Then I look a bit longer. Each floor is about three metres tall, with balconies fenced by glass half that height. It’s divided by these concrete columns, or up-down segments, which seem to separate rooms.

“Hmm.”

Three metres tall. Balconies half that height.

“Hmmmmmmmm.”

As expected, there is something tempting about its size. It feels… accessible. Within reach of my hands, legs, and everything else needed to scale such a beast.

Yuura looks at me, inhales. “Do you have an idea?” she asks, with her usual rat-pitched voice.

“Yeah. I have an idea.” My attention turns to Zhang. “What floor did you say the building was on?”

“Fifth.”

“Which room?”

“58.” He seems to catch on. “It has pink curtains. And there’s uh, these Chinese-looking wooden stools. Square-shaped, with real fancy patterns down the legs.”

“Understood.”

I leave the car before Yuura can make a Yuura-face. I go directly to the apartment complex. There’s a fancy concrete archway in front of it, around five metres tall. I dash. Scaling it and reaching the top with ease.

Zhang comes running out of the car. “W-wait! It’s past the second divider. That’s the one!”

I nod back. With a running start, I leap from the archway to a balcony over ten metres away. Zhang tails me. Waves and points to the balcony adjacent.

I climb atop the glass fence and move close to the concrete divider. I crouch-run. Getting enough speed before pushing off my left foot, and jumping to the other balcony. The angle is not great. I’m off-side to the balcony. My hand reaches out. It catches on the space between the glass fence and the platform.

Very nice.

With a pull and a half-turn, I manage to flip my feet atop the glass fence. Then, from that, quickly pull myself upwards. Using my leg muscles to get me on the balcony completely.

Zhang keeps nodding. Giving thumbs-up. Like a puppy with a new owner to please.

The rest is easy. I repeat the process again and again. From the 1st to the 2nd, to the 3rd, and at last, to the 4th floor. As I climb, I catch the attention of a few residents, who are surprised by my athletic prowess.

Hup!

I arrive on the 5th floor. Inside the dark apartment are pink curtains and the aforementioned ‘Chinese chairs’. Very nice. There’s no one inside. No light from the living room or the hallway connecting to it.

Zhang didn’t tell me whether alarms were installed. But I don’t think there are. If an alarm is triggered, and the police come, they would reveal their identity as a gang. So, even if there were alarms, it would probably be to one of their phones…