We arrived at the Yamaguchi compound before I had my last sip. After I finished, Kenshin nodded towards the door, and we exited into a fortress. The compound had high concrete walls topped with barbed wire and a host of cameras and guards around the entrance. I had no doubt other guards were roaming the grounds at scheduled intervals. The air felt tense. The same type of charge before a storm hits. I took one last look around before following Kenshin inside a stout, four-story building.

I was led to a traditional sitting room with tatami and found myself alone after Kenshin excused himself. I sat on a cushion and struggled to find a comfortable position. The amount of travel did not lend itself to flexibility. Maybe in my next life, I could return as a yoga instructor.

The sliding door to the room opened, and three men walked in. I recognized none of them. No surprise there. The Yamaguchi family contended for the largest Yakuza organization in all of Japan. Two younger, smartly dressed men escorted an older, slightly scruffy-looking gentleman. He wore a beard badly, but so did I, so points even on that. He waited in front of the cushion for a second before seating. He stared at me— but with no name or idea of who he was, I didn’t have much to go on.

“You’re the arms man,” the older man said—more a statement than a question. I wasn’t going to enjoy this one.

“Correct. My name is Desmond Kane. I’m here on behalf of my boss.”

“Why is he not here?”

“The Boss? I can’t answer that. Your organization requested a meeting, and I’m here to facilitate the transaction,” I said, trying to judge a response from his features. Easter Island statue continued his living repose. “Shall we begin?”

“First we must start the conversation,” he said, raising a hand. One of the men behind him turned to go to the door and opened it to an attendant waiting with a tea tray. The girl didn’t hurry into the room. She glided at a restrained speed— like a crane circling a shark rather than a girl holding tea. We didn’t speak as she poured the tea into two ceramic cups. The man nodded once, and the girl disappeared back outside. The man took a sip and then lifted an eyebrow at me. I joined him. I did not particularly enjoy the grassy-tasting tea but provided a brave face.

I finished my cup and looked at the man. Did he want to stretch this out? Fine. Each hour padded the bill and I was in no hurry to walk away from a job the Boss had specifically chosen for me to do.

“How often do you sell in Japan, Mr. Kane?” The opening foray.

“Not as often as I’d like,” I said politely.

“And your boss?” And the first bite.

“I can’t say.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Let’s say either and move onto more pleasant conversation,” I put my tea cup down. “What are you looking for? More M-3’s and AR-15’s?”

“No.”

We sat in silence while he stared at me in a stone dog impression. I’ll sit here all day. Well, maybe some breaks for stretching my knees.

“I want exclusive rights. No trading to anyone else in the country.” Audacious bastard.

“That’s a steep price,” I said balancing between customers in my head. The report I’d read described the Yamaguchi family as steadfast, but occasionally explosive. “Are you prepared to match the other orders we may have received from competitors?”

His eyes crinkled with a mischievous joy. “Yes. Expect an increase in orders. We are in a time of great… transition.” He raised his hand and one of the younger men opened the door. “You’ll receive a document detailing our requests. I will see you again at their delivery.”

He rose in a single motion and swept out of the room before I confirmed anything. Fuck.

Kenshin reappeared and came into the room to lead me through the house and back to the car. Sitting next to my seat was a leather folio. I opened it, took a scan, and quickly closed it. I nodded at Kenshin and he rapped the glass to the drivers compartment and we departed. Kenshin gestured back to the bottle from before. I shook my head. He didn’t need to see my hands shake.