by Alex Archer
14
“Where’d he go?”
Annja looked back but the mysterious monk had vanished in a second in the sudden throng of people who had appeared on the street. Ken tugged on Annja’s arm like an insistent child bothering its parent.
“We should get out of here before the police show up. A bunch of schoolgirls lying dead or unconscious in a crummy alley will certainly bring the authorities around by the dozens.”
Annja followed him into the mass of people, marveling at how easily Ken slid through the gaps in space. They traveled for the better part of a mile. Finally, Annja pulled up short, which caused Ken to stop, as well. She leaned against a storefront and tried to catch her breath.
“Where exactly are we going?”
Ken gestured with his right arm as he tried to get out of Annja’s grasp. “A small temple I know of. It’s just up this way a bit farther.”
Annja frowned. Something bothered her about all of this. Namely, there hadn’t been much she’d been required to solve or figure out for Ken since this whole trip had started. All of the things they were doing he could have done without her help. So what was his reason for bringing her along on this jaunt?
She pushed off her resting point and followed him up another block and then down a side alley as he broke right. The area didn’t look even remotely as if it would house a temple. Too many steel facades sprung up alongside them at every step. Bright neon flashed in pachinko parlors and video arcades hustled their wares. Internet cafés buzzed with people seated and surfing. And nowhere did it appear that a temple could find a home in this bustling modern metropolis.
But when Ken turned at the next corner, Annja found herself reconsidering her previous assessment. Sitting a half block farther on was the gate that marked the entrance to a temple. She could see the cedar beams and wooden shoji screen entrance, along with the blessed rope hanging down from the gate that marked this as a holy place. On either side of the door, two red Japanese maple trees were paired with small statues of an angry-looking god holding a sword and gnarled rope in his hands.
Ken stood before the structure and pointed out the figures to Annja. “Fudo Myoo, the god of warriors. His name means ‘the immovable one.’”
Annja looked around. “And this temple is dedicated to him?”
“One of the few left in the country. For some reason, there aren’t many who consider him a worthwhile deity to pray to in this supposed age of enlightenment and reason.”
“But not you. You like to cover all your bases?” Annja asked.
Ken grinned. “Something like that. We’re here to see a very old man who might just know how to find the vajra.”
He stepped forward, knocked on the wooden frame of the shoji screen and called out a greeting in Japanese. From somewhere deep inside, a voice answered back and Ken nodded.
“Good. He’s home.”
They stepped up onto the wooden flooring and Ken pointed out the shoe cubby. Annja slipped off her shoes and stepped into a pair of small slippers that wrapped around her feet like tight socks.
Ken slid back the shoji screen and they stepped inside.
The first thing Annja noticed was how much larger it seemed on the inside than out. The ceiling towered over them and a large statue of Fudo Myoo stood deeper inside, bathed in dim candlelight. The fresh scent of incense wafted through the air and Annja found herself breathing deeply and feeling much more relaxed than she’d been before their encounter in the alley with the psychotic schoolgirls.
Ken stepped over to the smoky incense burner located by the back side of the Fudo Myoo statue and waved his hands through the haze. Pressing his palms together, he bowed several times and waved some more of the smoke over himself.
Then he stepped back and nodded at Annja to do the same. Annja felt a little strange about doing so, feeling that this wasn’t exactly a deity she might worship. Still, being in the temple of any god, believable or not, she figured it seemed only polite to at least pay a small homage to them.
She waved the smoke on herself as she’d seen Ken do and then bowed a few times until she felt more self-conscious than anything else.
When she looked up, Ken stood there smiling.
As did the diminutive monk standing next to him.
“Sorry, not exactly sure I did that right,” Annja said.
“You did fine,” Ken said. He turned to the monk. “This is Taka. He runs the temple here. All by himself mostly.”
The monk bowed low and came up smiling still. “I used to have some help, but most acolytes these days prefer other gods to serve time with. I suppose this place just isn’t flashy or fashionable enough.”
Annja started. “Your English is perfect.”
He shrugged. “I travel sometimes.” He nodded to Ken. “Come. I have tea waiting.”
Annja glanced at Ken and then back at Taka. “You knew we’d be coming?”
The elderly monk merely shrugged as he walked. “The future is not hard to discern if you listen to nature. Most events are clearly laid out if you only care to notice them ahead of time.”
They walked down a corridor on cedar planking polished by years of feet scuffling back and forth in sock slippers. Annja marveled at the depth of the temple.
“It seems so small on the outside. And yet—”
Taka nodded. “It’s much larger than it appears. In much the same way, Fudo Myoo’s influence is much greater than is at first evident.”
“Do you know Ken well?” Annja expected him to say they’d been friends for years.
Taka laughed. “We’ve only just met, actually.”
“And you’re not concerned about him?”
Taka stopped and looked at her. “Should I be?”
Ken looked at Annja. “Something wrong, Annja?”
She shrugged. “I just find it odd that you’ve never met him before and yet we’re being welcomed as if we were long-lost family. I can’t imagine the same thing happening anywhere else in the world.”
Taka shrugged. “Perhaps Ken and I are more like long-lost family. Maybe that is why I feel compelled to have him and his guest in for tea and conversation.” His eyes gleamed. “Or I might just be a lonely old man in need of some decent company. And you two are a welcome change from the real-estate developers who normally visit me.”
Ken gestured around the temple. “I’d imagine they’re offering you quite a sum of money for this place.”
“Certainly, but what is money worth? Not a thing. They would pay me a fair price for the land and then tear down the temple only to build another club or pachinko parlor or apartment house. Man does not need any more of these distractions. He needs more temples.” Taka shrugged again. “So I stay.”
“The Yakuza don’t bother you?” Annja asked. Ken flashed her a look and she blanched. “Sorry, please forgive my inquisitiveness.”
Taka laughed. “It is not a problem, young lady. And yes, the Yakuza have stopped by. But while they are certainly to be despised for their criminal activities, they are one of the few groups in Japan who still have some degree of respect for the old ways. And when I told them I was not interested in selling, they accepted it with far greater humility and understanding than the new generation of developers, who cannot see beyond the limited life of their bank account balances.”
They approached a small room set with a low table and three cups of steaming tea. Taka gestured for them to sit. “I’ve only just poured it, so it should be just about right.” He lifted his cup and bowed to his guests. Ken and Annja followed suit.
Annja sipped the bitter green tea and smiled. “Delicious.”
Taka bowed low. “My thanks.” He took a sip and then set the cup down before turning to Ken. “Now, please, tell me why you are here.”
Ken set his own cup down and regarded Taka. “I seek the vajra of the Yumegakure-ryu.”
Taka nodded. “Interesting. I must admit I knew this would be your reason for coming here, but when I saw this happening, I did not
believe it myself. It was the first time in many many years that I had questioned my faith. I see now there was never any need to do so.”
Annja sipped her tea, waiting for Taka to continue. The spry monk took another sip of tea and looked at Annja.
“And you, young lady—are you also on this quest to recover the vajra?”
“Supposedly.” Annja glanced at Ken. “Although honestly I don’t know why I am. I’ve contributed nothing as yet that I would call either useful or even helpful.”
Taka gestured to Ken. “She is an honest woman. And fully possessed of her own skill and wisdom.”
Ken nodded. “It is one of the many reasons I asked her to come along. A valuable ally is a very difficult thing to find these days. She is unmotivated by the usual machinations of mankind.”
Taka grinned. “Time will tell if your assessment is correct or not.” He sighed and drank more tea. “You know the history of the vajra?”
“Mostly. I know that Prince Shotoku made a gift of it to my family over a thousand years ago,” Ken replied.
Taka nodded. “Indeed. It was to be used as a force for good in the world of madness that descended upon Japan. During the Warring States period, the vajra was reputed to be one of the only things that helped keep the country from utterly destroying itself. As evil tried to gain root, the vajra countered its influence by helping those who fought for the good of the people. It was, needless to say, a very back-and-forth struggle. It was one of the darkest times for Japan.”
Taka took another sip of tea before clearing his throat and speaking again. “In the wake of this darkest period of civil war, when only a few warlords remained powerful, peace at last seemed to be a possibility again. The Tokugawa family was rising to power and soon would usher in a period of hope and prosperity.”
“And someone stole the vajra at this point, yes?” Ken asked.
Taka smiled. “That is how the story is told.”
“I have tried for many years to figure out which of the warrior families might have been powerful and evil enough to do such a thing.” Ken sighed. “I must confess I have been unable to figure out who would have been able to steal it.”
Taka’s eyes gleamed. “Perhaps you are looking at the wrong people.”
Ken frowned. “What do you mean?”
Taka shrugged. “I mean you are assuming that it was an evil warlord that arranged for the vajra to be stolen.”
“It wasn’t?”
Taka shook his head. “Not at all. In fact, the people who took the vajra would contend that they did so because they were helping the forces of good, and not the forces of evil.”
“But who would do that? There are no records of warlords mounting an expedition to steal the vajra from my family,” Ken said.
Taka sipped his tea. “Your mind is still clinging to the thought that the vajra was stolen.”
“But it was.”
Taka shook his head. “Not at all. The vajra was entrusted to a group who could safeguard it more than your family could. Your ancestors were very wise, Ogawa-san. The Yumegakure-ryu was renowned for their ability to see the future and plan accordingly.”
Annja finished her tea and set her cup on the table. “But who would they entrust such a special artifact to?”
Taka leaned over and poured more tea into her cup. “The only ones who were powerful enough in their own right to protect such a thing and still resist the warlords who might have tried to steal it—the yamabushi.”
Ken frowned. “Mountain warriors?”
Taka continued. “Warrior monks who lived in secluded temples deep in the mountains to the west of Edo, the old capital. Their austere way of life, as well as their commitment to martial arts and devout ways, made them the perfect guardians of the vajra. Your ancestors knew that they would not be tempted to use the vajra for their own purposes. But your ancestors could not be so sure about their own descendants. Every new generation, after all, must find its own path—be it right or wrong. I imagine your ancestors believed it very likely someone born into the family would use it for their own gain and not the good of mankind as it was destined to do. They did the smartest thing they could, short of destroying it. They gave it to the yamabushi with strict orders for it to be hidden away and thereby protected.”
Ken leaned back. “If that’s true—”
“It is,” Taka snapped. “I have little reason to lie about such things. What good would it accomplish?”
Ken bowed. “Forgive me, that was rude.”
Taka smiled. “More tea?”
Ken held out his cup and thanked Taka when it was refilled. “The yamabushi still have the vajra, then?”
“I would assume so,” Taka said. “I am certain it still survives. The yamabushi are nothing if not careful in where they hide such things.”
“Then it would be up to me to go and retrieve it from them,” Ken said.
Taka shrugged. “I suppose you could. But you must also ask yourself, why would you do that?”
“Because it belongs to my family. I want it back.”
“But why?” Taka asked. “Certainly, the vajra still maintains some degree of influence over world affairs, even in the darkest hours of this century.”
“But how do you know?” Annja asked.
Taka smiled. “For the easiest reason of all—we are still here, alive and in reasonably good health.”
“I’d argue that the vajra should be returned to me,” Ken said. “After all, recent events like the rise of terrorism suggest that the forces of evil might be gaining momentum. If the vajra can be used to counter that momentum, then it is my responsibility to do so.”
“We’ve also attracted the attention of other groups who want the vajra,” Annja said.
Taka looked at Annja and then back at Ken. After a long moment he sipped his tea and then stretched. “Very well. You seem determined to get it back at any cost. And I am certainly not the one who should determine whether you should have it or not.”
He stood. “Come with me. I will tell you how to find it.”
15
Nezuma watched as police officers and investigators circulated around the alley near the train station in Osaka. Next to him, Shuko stood still, waiting for Nezuma to say something.
“Schoolgirls.” Nezuma shook his head in wonder. “Now, that is an interesting turn of events.”
Shuko frowned. “According to eyewitnesses, it doesn’t even appear that Ogawa and the American woman fought them off.”
“No? And just how did they get away?” Nezuma pointed. “And if not them, then who exactly disposed of this death squad with such creativity?”
“A monk,” Shuko said. “That’s what the police are jotting down in their reports.”
“And they believe it?”
“The witnesses appear to be very reputable. A shop owner, a coffee-stand operator and a number of people using an Internet café across the street saw the entire thing unfold through the large windows.”
Nezuma’s mouth widened as he contemplated the information. “One monk against the better part of a dozen armed teenagers…that’s some holy man.”
Shuko looked at Nezuma. “This wasn’t something you arranged, was it, master?”
Nezuma smiled. “Oh no. Not me. There’d be no reason for us to want them dead, anyway. We want them leading us to the dorje.”
“That’s what I thought.”
Nezuma patted her arm. “And you know I would have definitely included you in the plans if I had intended to kill them.”
She smiled. “Thank you.”
“But this—” he frowned again “—this is the work of someone who is very interested in making sure the ninja never gets his hands on the dorje again. And that means we have a bit of a problem.”
“How so?” Shuko asked.
Nezuma watched the police officers loading the bodies of the girls into ambulances. “They’re not dead?”
Shuko shook her head. “Not a one. They were apparently soundly bea
ten and rendered unconscious, but they are otherwise intact. I’d imagine the authorities want to take them in for observation, but they should be released unless the police want to press charges for them having an assortment of bizarre weaponry in public.”
“Whoever put these girls up to the task of killing Ogawa and Creed is a problem for us. I don’t like other people interfering in our plans. And we can’t afford them taking another shot at the ninja and his accomplice,” Nezuma said.
Shuko nodded. “Understood.”
“First things first, then,” Nezuma said. “We go to the hospital and see what our wounded little lambs have to tell us about their employer.”
“They may not talk,” Shuko said.
Nezuma smiled. “I fully expect them not to. At first. But I’m fairly confident that once I explain the nature of things to them, they’ll be more than happy to tell us all their dark and dirty little secrets.”
“Had I known, I would have brought my chemistry kit with me.”
Nezuma led her away from the accident scene. “Shuko, my dear, we’re headed to the hospital. There are plenty of drugs there you can play with.”
IT TOOK THEM fifteen minutes to reach the nearby hospital by foot. Nezuma insisted that traveling that way would allow them to see if they had picked up any surveillance along the way. “If someone is after Ogawa, then there’s a chance that they know about us, as well. I don’t want any surprises,” he explained.
Shuko trailed behind Nezuma as he walked to the hospital and they reconvened in the parking lot. Nezuma watched her approach from the opposite direction he’d taken, knowing that she’d probably backtracked on herself a number of times to make sure she had no followers.
“Nothing, master. I feel confident that we are clean,” she reported.
Nezuma nodded and glanced at the hospital. The ten floors of the white-and-gray steel building sprawled across almost five acres of land. Nezuma knew that this particular hospital housed experts in a number of cancer specialties, as well as an infectious-diseases laboratory second to none in Asia.
But he was more concerned with catching up with the schoolgirls. They would be brought into the emergency room for treatment and observation. While there, the police would be around.
