Data & Dust

Thump-thump! Thump-thump!

Ethan’s heart pounded like a drumbeat in his ears as Oshima, a Yakuza lieutenant, snatched the loose cloth from his eyes. Ethan’s head snapped up as his vision sharpened, eyes struggling to pull details from the blur. He could feel his gaze boring into his skull, sharp enough to draw blood. One wrong move, one misstep, and that would be it.

But he couldn’t back down. Not now.

“Go ahead, kill me,” Ethan said, steadying his voice as much as he could. “Shoot me if you want, but it’ll cost you. I know things. Things your boss needs to hear.”

Oshima, a hulking man with a dragon tattoo snaking up his neck, tilted his head, lips pulling into a tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “You really think you’ve got something to bargain with, gaijin?” He clicked his tongue softly, almost like a disapproving teacher. “What could a foreigner like you possibly know that we don’t?”

Ethan took a deep breath. He had only one shot at this.

“I know who betrayed your last shipment to the Triads. I can give you names, dates, and routes. I know where the leaks are because I wrote about it.”

Ethan hadn’t realized the truth at first. When the AI started generating plot points based on the data he fed it, he thought it was just pulling from the usual amalgamation of crime statistics and old case files. It wasn’t until this moment — that he understood the AI had tapped into something dangerous. The data must have contained actual Yakuza records buried in government intel he’d overlooked, wrapped in layers of encrypted files he’d been too careless to check.

A murmur ran across the room. Several of the underlings exchanged quick, uncertain glances. The boss remained unfazed. The lieutenant’s face seemed impassive, but Ethan noticed a tiny twitch through his swollen left eye — a crack in the mask.

“You’ve read my novel. It’s written there, how your organization works. I know about the ledger,” Ethan said, forcing himself to keep his voice stern. “The one in Shibuya. Hidden with all the… legit business records.” He paused, searching their faces. “And I know about the oyabun’s mistress. I’ve kept that out of the book… for now.”

The lieutenant’s hand shot out, grabbing Ethan’s shirt. He yanked him close, but there was a hesitation in his grip, a slight slackening of his hold that almost seemed… wary.

“You know too much,” he said, voice barely a whisper.

His gaze flickered over Ethan’s face, searching, like he was trying to solve a puzzle. Then, with a sharp inhale, he shoved him back, the sudden burst of violence a mask for the brief uncertainty that had crossed his face.

Ethan forced a grin, despite the panic clawing at his insides.

“That’s exactly… why you need me. Kill me, and you lose the only person… one who can plug the… l-leaks in your organization. You have a mole. I-I can tell you where he’s hiding...”

Silence. The lieutenant’s eyes searched Ethan’s face, as if trying to find a crack in his confidence. Ethan held the lieutenant’s gaze, straining to catch the boss’s reaction out of the corner of his eye while forcing himself to appear calm, even as sweat and blood trickled down his back.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, the lieutenant dropped him. Ethan staggered, catching himself before he could fall. The boss shot a curt nod, then turned on his heel and strode out of the room without a word. The lieutenant turned to his men, speaking with authority.

“Bring him,” Oshima snapped, the edge back in his voice, though his gaze still lingered on Ethan as if weighing something. “We’ll see if this dog is telling the truth.” He looked to the side, absently scratching his ear, his tone turning softer, like he was already considering a dozen other possibilities. “Or if we should just put him down.”

Ethan welcomed the reprieve as they drove through the streets of Tokyo, flanked by the Yakuza’s enforcers. He glanced out the window, noting the route. He had expected this — they were heading to a secondary location, likely a safe house where they’d ‘verify’ his information. If it checked out, they’d keep him alive just long enough to bleed him dry of any remaining knowledge.

But he wasn’t planning on sticking around that long.

Ethan’s fingers brushed against the rough patch sewn into the lining of his jeans — a detail no one else would notice. Not unless they knew it was more than just a brand label. The tracker was a custom job, disguised as a standard laundry care tag, embedded with non-metallic components. Even the most meticulous pat-down wouldn’t have picked it up without advanced tech.

He could still remember the precautionary lengths he went through before setting out that night, wrapping the tag in conductive fabric to avoid detection by radio-frequency scanners. It had been risky, but so far, it had paid off.

Now, all he needed was a few seconds alone to activate it.

When they reached the safe house, a decrepit-looking building on the outskirts of the city, Ethan was ushered into a small, dimly lit room. He recognized it immediately from his own stories. This was the place where they carried out their hits — one of their main hideouts. The lieutenant barked orders, and two men moved to either side of the door, effectively blocking his exit.

The lieutenant’s eyes narrowed, skepticism radiating off him in waves. He took a step closer, his bulk casting a long shadow over Ethan. “You think we’ll take you at your word, gaijin?” he growled. “Start talking, or I’ll have you explaining yourself with broken fingers.”

Ethan swallowed, keeping his voice level.

“I know the name of the informant who’s been leaking details about your shipments to the Triads. He goes by ‘Kuro,’ but his real name is Takashi Yamamoto. Your boss’s third cousin.”

He let that bombshell drop, watching the ripple of surprise flicker across the lieutenant’s face. For the first time, the man seemed genuinely taken aback.

“Takashi?” the lieutenant hissed, suspicion now mixed with confusion. He motioned to one of the guards. “Give me your phone.”

The guard hesitated, then handed over his phone. The lieutenant punched in a number, his gaze never leaving Ethan. “This is Lieutenant Oshima,” he said curtly into the phone. “Check up on Takashi. I want to know his exact location and what he’s been up to for the past week.”

As Oshima waited for a response, silence fell over the room. Ethan felt the weight of the lieutenant’s stare bearing down on him, searching for any sign of deception. Sweat beaded on his forehead, sliding down his temple and stinging his eyes, but he didn’t dare wipe it away.

A minute passed. Then two.

Finally, Oshima’s face darkened, his grip on the phone tightening. “What do you mean you can’t reach him?” He barked a command and snapped the phone shut, his expression like a storm cloud about to break. “You better not be lying.”

Ethan shook his head slowly.

“I’m not. Check his bank records, too. You’ll see a large deposit made just two days before your last shipment disappeared. He was paid off, and he’s probably already on his way out of the city. You won’t find him at any of your usual hangouts.”

The lieutenant looked to his second-in-command, who nodded and pulled out another device. A flurry of commands later, the man’s face twisted into a grimace. “It’s true. There’s an unaccounted deposit under Takashi’s name. Large sum, just like he said.”

Oshima’s eyes narrowed further. “You knew this... but how?” He stepped closer, his breath hot on Ethan’s face. “Who are you working for?”

Ethan raised his hands defensively.

The lieutenant glowered at him, but there was a shift — a subtle, grudging respect mingled with fear. Ethan had just provided a thread they hadn’t known existed. Whether it was true or not, the lieutenant would now be forced to follow up.

“All right, gaijin,” Oshima snarled, thrusting the phone back at his guard. “We’ll see if you’re worth more alive than dead. But if you’re playing games…” He trailed off, letting the threat hang in the air before gesturing to his men. “Bring him. We’ll verify the rest at the docks. One wrong move, and I’ll end you myself.” The lieutenant hands him a phone.

Ethan nodded slowly, his mind spinning through potential scenarios. He dialed the number of a he had gleaned from his research — one he knew had recently been compromised by the Triads. As the line connected, Ethan leaned into the phone and said, “It’s done. I’ve sent the intel. The lieutenant’s on his way to the docks now.”

There was a pause, and then the voice on the other end erupted in panic. “What? Who told you? No one was supposed to know —”

Ethan clicked the phone shut, cutting off the tirade. He turned to the lieutenant, who was staring at him with a mixture of confusion and anger.

“That was your mole,” Ethan said calmly. “He’s planning to sabotage the next shipment. If you send men to the docks now, you’ll find him. But we have to move fast.”

The lieutenant hesitated, then barked orders at his men, who scrambled out of the room. The two guards by the door exchanged glances, then followed, leaving Ethan alone for a split second.

It was all the time he needed.

He slipped his hand into his pocket, pressing the tiny button on the tracker. A silent signal pulsed out — a distress call. With any luck, a detective would pick it up and trace his location. But he couldn’t rely on luck alone.

Ethan’s gaze darted around the room, cataloging every detail — the bolted door, the narrow, barred window, the single flickering overhead light. No obvious way out. But he hadn’t expected there to be.

“Think, Ethan!”

He forced himself to breathe, to remember the schematics he’d pieced together from countless AI-compiled dossiers.

“There should be an electrical room two floors down.”

The blueprints he’d referenced indicated an overlooked flaw in their security wiring — one that, if he could exploit it, would cut the power and force the guards to shift focus. That’s where he needed to get.

“But first…”

He eyed the guard nearest to the door. The man had been watching him like a hawk, but his focus had started to waver after the others left. Ethan’s fingers searched for the tiny capsule hidden in his pocket — a harmless-looking pill that wasn’t so harmless in the right hands. He’d slipped it into the Yakuza’s drink when they’d grabbed him, and it was finally taking effect.

The guard staggered, blinking rapidly as his vision blurred. Ethan stood up, careful not to make any sudden moves, and spoke softly.

“You don’t look so good. Maybe you should sit down.”

The guard’s eyes narrowed, suspicion flickering across his face, but he swayed on his feet, and Ethan could see the beads of sweat forming on his brow. With a grunt, the man turned, fumbled for the door handle, and slipped out, leaving Ethan alone for the first time since he’d been brought in.

Kaboom!

Perfect! His contact had come through. The blast in the garage should have been enough to pull most of the guards away from the upper floors.

Ethan moved quickly as he felt the ground shake. He stepped to the door and pressed his ear against it, listening. Ethan’s pulse hammered in his ears. He forced himself to breathe, each inhale coming out ragged and shallow as if his lungs were struggling to keep up. The sound of raised voices and rushed footsteps echoed from the hallway outside. “One chance,” Ethan thought as he pulled a length of wire from his belt loop. He crouched beside the door, expertly inserting the wire into the slim gap above the lock. A click, and the door swung open silently. He slipped into the corridor, heart hammering.

He moved with purpose, retracing the route he’d memorized.

“A left turn, then two rights…”

He ducked into a narrow maintenance closet just as a pair of guards rushed past, shouting about the explosion.

“Almost there…”

The electrical room was exactly where he’d expected it to be, concealed behind a false panel near the end of the hall. He got hold of a lever, his grip slick with sweat. He pried it open and yanked on the handle of the main circuit breaker, plunging the entire floor into darkness.

“Hey! What’s going on?!” voices rang out, panic spreading.

Ethan pressed his back against the wall, the sharp staccato of his breathing lost amid the panicked shouts and hurried footsteps echoing down the hall. He counted to three before peeking around the corner. Two guards were shouting at each other, their attention fixed on the darkened hallway where he’d cut the power. Good. They hadn’t noticed him yet.

He slipped through the shadows, his movements jerky and uneven. His shoulders twitched at every stray sound — a sudden shout, the crackle of a radio — each one sending a jolt of fear through him like a live wire.

“Focus. Keep moving.”

His hands pressed against the wall for balance, trembling with barely restrained panic as he edged closer to the stairwell. Keeping low, he edged along the wall, each step deliberate and controlled, suppressing the urge to sprint. If he ran now, he’d only draw attention.

“One step at a time…”

His mind raced through the building’s layout, visualizing the maze-like corridors and the guards’ typical patrol routes.

“Left at the end of this hallway, then down the maintenance stairs. From there, cut through the laundry room…”

His gaze flicked to a pair of distant figures silhouetted against the emergency exit sign. The guards were moving in his direction, their flashlights bobbing erratically as they swept the area. Ethan ducked into a narrow alcove, flattening himself against the wall. He had seconds before they’d pass his hiding spot.

“Don’t move. Don’t breathe.”

The guards’ footsteps grew louder, then paused just a few feet away. Ethan’s heart thundered in his ears, each beat an echo of the countdown in his head. He tightened his grip around the thin wire he’d used to unlock the door earlier, ready to use it again if it came to that. But the guards exchanged a few clipped words in a thick dialect — something about a disposal of evidence — and then turned away, their lights receding back down the corridor.

His grip on the stairwell railing was loosening as he descended. One misstep and he’d stumble, alerting the guards below. The thought made his stomach churn.

“Don’t think about that now.”

He swallowed hard, his throat dry as sandpaper, and took the steps two at a time, his knees shaking with every impact.

The laundry room loomed ahead, dimly lit and eerily empty. He could feel the air tightening around him, squeezing his chest like a vise. Every step felt heavier, as if the stairs themselves were trying to drag him down. He reached the room, his breath hitching.

He dug into his pocket, slowly pulling out the hard edges of a makeshift signal jammer. It felt like a lifeline — or a gamble that could go horribly wrong.

“Please work…”

His thumb hovered over the button, hesitating for a fraction of a second. He pressed it, holding his breath as the device hummed to life.

For a moment, nothing happened. Ethan’s chest tightened, panic clawing its way up his throat. His hands shook, the device rattling softly against the door’s panel. Then, with a sharp crackle, the security lock fizzled out. He nearly sagged in relief, his breath leaving him in a trembling rush. The door creaked open, cool night air washing over his sweat-slicked skin. He sucked in a deep breath, the crisp air feeling almost too sharp, like it might slice through his lungs.

He stepped outside, his legs unsteady, heart hammering like a drumbeat gone wild. The alley stretched out before him, shrouded in darkness. Every shadow seemed to twist and move in his peripheral vision. He tried to swallow, but his throat was so tight it felt like he was choking on air.

“Keep moving.”

The shouts behind him surged like a wave crashing against the rocks, and his body jerked in response, muscles tensing as if he were already bracing for a blow.

Panic surged through him, an electric current that made his skin prickle and his limbs feel weightless. He stumbled forward, his breath hitching in his throat, and broke into a desperate run. His legs felt numb and heavy, as if they might give out at any second, but he didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop.

“They know.”

He broke into a sprint, his footsteps barely audible on the cracked pavement. He wove through the alley’s narrow confines, his eyes darting to every shadow and corner. Shouts echoed louder behind him, followed by the heavy pounding of boots.

“They’re right on my tail…”

He glanced back once — a quick, assessing look. The guards spilled out into the alley, flashlights swinging wildly as they searched the shadows. One of them spotted him and yelled something unintelligible. Ethan’s grin was a grim slash across his face.

“Time to disappear.”

A black car screeched to a halt at the alley’s mouth. The window rolled down, and a woman’s face emerged, eyes wide with determination and fear.

“Get in!” she shouted.

Ethan didn’t hesitate. He threw himself into the passenger seat, slamming the door shut as the driver floored the gas pedal. The car lurched forward, tires squealing.

“Did it work?” she asked, glancing at him.

Ethan looked back at the disappearing safe house, at the flashing lights of Yakuza cars giving chase.

“Not sure yet,” he muttered, a grim smile tugging at his lips. “But they’re pissed off enough that I think I hit a nerve.”

The woman nodded, her grip tight on the wheel. “We’ll have to lose them first.”

Ethan exhaled, leaning back in his seat as the city blurred past. “Yeah. But at least now they know one thing.”

“What’s that?” she asked.

Ethan’s smile widened, a hint of triumph in his eyes. “That I’m not going to be their pawn anymore.”