The black Mercedes convoy departed first, three escort cars guarding front and rear. They exited through the villa's main gate and headed east onto the highway.
At the same time, Kenji limped out the back door with his cane and climbed into the battered van.
There was only one driver inside—his most trusted bodyguard, who had been with him for five years.
"Let's go," Kenji said, closing the door.
The van started up, drove without headlights through the dark alley, and vanished into the night.
On the highway, the Mercedes convoy moved smoothly.
The double sat in the back seat, windows tightly shut, special curtains drawn completely closed. From the outside, it was impossible to see who was inside.
"We've got a tail," came the voice from the lead car over the intercom.
"So soon? How many?"
"Two black sedans, no plates."
The double closed his eyes. Kenji had been right—the Yamamoto Group was indeed watching this convoy.
"Keep going, follow the original plan," he ordered.
