Warrior Spirit

by Alex Archer

The corridor ran fifty feet and then at the end he saw a small unmarked door. Looking up at the ceiling, he guessed that this had to be the back door. He tried the door and found it locked so he used the electric pick again.

  This time, he gently pulled the door back, praying that the hinges wouldn’t squeak and alert his prey inside.

  The door opened without a sound.

  He glanced around one final time, but found the area deserted. Smiling, he withdrew his pistol and from his left pocket, he produced a suppressor, which he screwed on to the threaded barrel.

  He entered the radiology department.

  Hushed voices reached his ears. He paused, trying to distill the nature of the room’s set up. He expected to hear the girl’s voice and he did. And the harsh whisper belonged to a man.

  Interesting.

  He nosed around the corner and took a quick glimpse.

  The schoolgirl faced him in a chair. Her eyes were closed and she was bound hand and foot to the chair. Tears streamed down her face. He could see the fear and shock and despair in her features.

  The man crouched close by, whispering in her ear. His back was to the back door, as was the lithe form of the woman standing nearby. Both of them were dressed in hospital staff clothes.

  He was glad he’d opted for the police uniform.

  The schoolgirl whimpered, muttered something about how she didn’t know who it was that hired her. This didn’t please the man. He said something to the woman with him and she nodded.

  The schoolgirl saw the scalpel and started sobbing.

  He leveled the pistol on the point between the schoolgirl’s eyes and squeezed the trigger.

  As his gun spit once, the girl’s head snapped back, a black hole punching its way into her skull.

  In that instant, the woman pivoted and flung something at him.

  He jerked back as the thin black throwing spike embedded itself in the wall.

  He ran to the rear door and tore it open. Racing down the hall, he thought about how unfortunate it was to have to kill someone so young. All of the schoolgirls were eighteen years old, so legally, they were adults. But it did little to make him feel good about what he’d just done.

  It was a necessary evil, and nothing more.

  At the end of the corridor, he banked left, then right and then through the doors. In an instant, he was gone.

  17

  Nezuma regarded the dead schoolgirl’s corpse and then looked at Shuko. “Did you see who it was?”

  She frowned. “No. But he was huge. Too big to have been a Japanese, even though he looked like one.”

  Nezuma nodded. “You think he wore makeup?”

  “Along with the police uniform, yes. It would be a good way to get in here and not have to answer any questions.”

  “I wish we’d thought of it.” Nezuma nudged the schoolgirl’s body back. “It’s time for us to go. Our friends will be waking up soon and they’ll make a commotion. It will be only a small matter of time before they’re found. And then they’ll find the body here. Once that happens, they’ll lock down the facility.”

  “We don’t want to be trapped inside,” Shuko said.

  “Definitely not.”

  Nezuma stood and stripped off the white coat and Shuko did the same. They exited through the front of the radiology department and kept walking as naturally as possible. They passed a nurse wheeling a patient toward radiology.

  Nezuma risked a glance back and then nudged Shuko. “Faster.”

  “You don’t think we would have time to go to the emergency department and find another girl we could question?” she asked.

  Nezuma shook his head. “That doesn’t strike me as very smart. The police will be all over the place. We’d never make it. And once that nurse back there walks through the doors of radiology, this whole place is going to light up.”

  They passed the elevator bank and Nezuma guided Shuko out through a side door. They kept moving purposefully toward the parking lot. “We need to get out of here. That nurse will remember two people and if we’re spotted together, they’ll know,” he said.

  Shuko walked away without being asked. They’d had to split up in the past and Nezuma wasn’t concerned about her safety. Shuko could take care of herself. He’d trained her that way.

  They would rendezvous back at the train station, hoping to catch Ogawa and Creed on their way to wherever they were headed. It was always a gamble, but Nezuma felt certain they would head out of Osaka soon. The dorje was not here in the city; that much he knew. He suspected it was probably concealed somewhere in the rural lands to the east, home to the ancient ninja families that had sprung up during feudal Japan.

  Nezuma himself had spent plenty of time in those fog-enshrouded mountains in his past. His own hunt for the dorje had been an overwhelming obsession with him ever since he was a youth.

  And now, he was close to acquiring it at long last.

  He just hoped that whoever was trying to kill Ogawa and Creed would not get to them until Nezuma had the dorje in his possession.

  Only time would tell if that would happen.

  FROM THE SHADOWED DEPTHS of the delivery van he watched the man and woman split up. He marveled at how they both seemed to be in perfect rhythm with each other. There were no stutter steps or pauses for conversation and the discussion of potential what-ifs. The woman simply changed direction and it was as if they had no knowledge of each other.

  He frowned. He knew the woman could certainly throw shuriken with unerring accuracy. It was only thanks to his lightning-fast reflexes that he hadn’t caught the sharpened spike in his skull or worse, his eye. He might be dead if that had happened.

  The man he knew well enough. He was a trained killer even if he did his best to obscure that fact every time he entered a tournament. He figured the woman then must be one of his employees or lovers.

  He was well aware of how a teacher-student relationship could turn into something more. But somehow, he couldn’t see the stocky Nezuma letting himself fall into such a situation.

  But stranger things had happened.

  He raised the telephoto-lens camera and squeezed off several shots of the woman as she made her way across the parking lot. Twice, she seemed to look up and around and he thought she might have sensed him. He’d leaned back, deeper into the shadows and then cursed himself. There was no way her eyes would be able to penetrate the darkness of the van’s interior.

  She glided up to the four-foot fence and climbed over it with such ease that he almost jumped in surprise. It was only when she stopped at a pay phone to make a call that he turned his attention back to Nezuma.

  NEZUMA’S EYES SWEPT the parking lot.

  Something didn’t feel right.

  With all these cars, he wondered if someone was watching him. He chalked it up as paranoia resulting from a botched job. His ears had already picked up the roaring alarm bells from inside the hospital. Soon enough, more sirens would join the cacophony of sound.

  As long as we’re gone, he thought, that’s all that matters.

  He knew Shuko would make her way back downtown and from there, take a circuitous route back to the train station. Undoubtedly, she would meander, doing her utmost to lose anyone who might be interested in following her.

  And if they stayed glued to her, she would simply kill them.

  Nezuma’s stomach growled and he realized it had been many hours since he had eaten anything.

  On the way to the hospital, he recalled seeing a comfortable-looking restaurant that advertised fresh seafood.

  His mouth watered.

  A nice meal might be just the ticket to restoring his confidence in the overall mission.

  HE WATCHED Nezuma enter the restaurant and then set the camera down next to the laptop computer he had open on the back floor of the van. He connected the USB cable to the computer and downloaded the pictures he had taken moments before.

  He opened his e-mail program and composed a new message. After typing in the simple o
ne-word name, along with a subject and priority, he typed, “Identify woman and provide history.”

  He clicked the attachment icon and included the best close-ups he had shot. Then he clicked Send and waited.

  NEZUMA WASHED DOWN the meal with a beer. The silver can was thoroughly icy and he loved the crisp taste as it followed the excellent fish tempura he’d eaten. He belched appreciatively and drank long from the glass in front of him.

  His cell phone purred and he opened it up.

  “Yes?”

  “Master.” Shuko’s voice licked at his ear.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes. I am in a coffee shop across the street from the train station.”

  “Did you get food yet?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good, then we’ll be all set for when we have to move.”

  She paused. “That’s why I’m calling. I think you should come here as soon as you can.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  “Not at all. I have managed to find Ogawa and the American woman Creed.”

  Nezuma’s heart raced. “Excellent work. How did you locate them so quickly?”

  “I came directly here and waited. They came in a few moments ago and ordered some food. They are at the train station now. I followed them. They purchased tickets aboard a train bound for Mie Prefecture.”

  “Where in Mie?”

  “Iga.”

  Nezuma smiled. As he’d expected. “Excellent. I will be there very soon.”

  He clicked off his phone and gestured the waitress over. She presented him with the bill and he left a wad of cash on the table. Nezuma believed in tipping well for a great meal.

  And Shuko’s news was the perfect dessert.

  HIS E-MAIL DINGED and he sat up, aware that he’d nodded off. He clicked the new-message icon and waited. The message filled his screen.

  Woman’s name is Shuko. No known other names. Reported to be the only member of Nezuma’s clan he trusts implicitly. No history available from usual sources. She is extremely dangerous.

  He grinned. That much he already knew. But she intrigued him. People weren’t born without any history. Someone must know something about her. And he wanted to know what they knew.

  The reply button beckoned. He clicked it and began typing up a new message.

  “THEY ARE still there?”

  Shuko nodded. “They just boarded the train about ten minutes ago. But it doesn’t depart for another twenty minutes. We have time.”

  “And our tickets?”

  Shuko handed him one. “The train runs express to Ueno and thereafter makes a series of local stops. It’s my belief that they will get off in Ueno, however.”

  Nezuma nodded and scanned the train station again. “That makes the most sense. If they are attuned to their environment and suspect surveillance, they will opt to ensure they have a chance at losing us. It’s what I would do.”

  Shuko handed him a cup. “I bought this for you.”

  Nezuma sniffed it. “Tea?”

  “Yes.”

  “That was thoughtful.”

  She bowed. “I thought it would help make us less suspicious if we are seen as more of a couple than as a team.”

  He glanced at her and smiled. “I enjoy the way you think, Shuko-san.”

  “And I will enjoy helping you finally acquire the dorje you have sought for so long.”

  Nezuma gestured at the train. “Let’s get aboard. The sooner we find seats, the better. I don’t want a crowd inhibiting our vantage points.”

  HE WATCHED from the concourse as Nezuma and the woman called Shuko boarded the train. His request for any information, even from questionable sources, came back with nothing.

  He frowned. How was it possible for someone to have no history whatsoever? Surely there was something out there he’d be able to use to his advantage.

  He would need to keep using his networks to scour for information.

  In the meantime, he would keep tabs on Nezuma and his escort.

  Perhaps fate would dictate that he and Shuko have a face-to-face meeting sooner rather than later.

  He smiled at the thought.

  And then bought a train ticket.

  18

  The Japan Railway train shuddered along the old steel tracks, twisting through the dense rural countryside of Mie Prefecture. Annja stared out the window, wondering about what Taka had told them prior to their departure from the temple in Osaka.

  The old man had collected their teacups and led them down a hallway to another room filled with maps stuffed into a honeycomb of cubbyholes. He took one of the maps—more a scroll than anything else—and unfurled it on a low table. Crude line drawings showed a detailed overlay. Taka traced his finger along what might have been contour lines.

  “The yamabushi,” he said, “had a series of tunnels built into the very mountains of Iga itself. It was one such thing that helped them cultivate their aura of supernatural ability, much like the ninja.”

  Ken had pointed at the map. “And the vajra is hidden there?”

  “Somewhere in there,” Taka said. “The system of caves is supposedly very dense, with various traps and pitfalls to waylay the uninitiated. I doubt very much any of the yamabushi still in the area would guide you to what you seek.”

  “I’m sure we’ll be all right,” Ken said. “As long as we know the general direction.”

  “There’s more,” Taka said. “An ancient guardian protects the vajra and the caves.”

  “What kind of guardian?” Annja asked.

  “A kappa,” Taka said. “Swamp vampire.”

  Annja had smiled. “Are you kidding?”

  Taka shook his head. “Absolutely not. I’m merely telling you that it is rumored to patrol the area. You would be wise to keep its presence in mind. I don’t imagine you’d like to run into one of those.”

  Ken had waved it off. “Superstitions are one thing. I’m much more concerned about the very real threats Annja and I have been facing since we started this journey together.”

  Taka held up one finger. “Superstitions, whether you believe in them or not, exist for many reasons. Not the least of which might just be that they actually do exist regardless of what you happen to think.”

  “A pesky, stout dwarfish creature with a bowl of sake on his head is not going to deter me from finding what is rightfully mine to return to my family’s ancestral home. I wouldn’t be much of a worthy inheritor if I allowed myself to be swayed by that now, would I?” Ken shook his head. “Thank you for your hospitality and for the information. But we should be going now.”

  ANNJA GLANCED at Ken, who was sleeping beside her. They had walked from the temple to the train station and purchased tickets for the local train that ran northwest of Osaka into the Iga countryside. Now, as the train shot past the trees, Annja turned back to the window and could see the mountains some distance away with puffs of gray-and-white clouds hugging their peaks.

  “This is the birthplace of ninjitsu,” he said.

  She saw that Ken was now awake. “Is it really?”

  He nodded. “The land here is rough. Not too many roads lead through it, even less in the old days. It made for a perfect refuge for those who practiced what many believed were dark arts. They called ninja ‘sorcerers’ in league with demons and various other evil creatures. In reality, the ninja used their enemies’ beliefs to their advantage. Still, it’s difficult to travel through this land without wondering if there really is some truth to the old legends and superstitions.”

  “You don’t think we’re going to have a run-in with a sake-drinking creature, do you?”

  He smiled. “Like Taka said, you never know.”

  “I’d prefer to imagine the yamabushi might have better things to do with their time than invest too much in trying to make a legend come to life.”

  Ken nodded. “I’m more concerned about the traps inside the caves. We’ll need some supplies.”

  “Those mountains look bi
g,” Annja said. “What’s the weather going to be like?”

  “Cold at night the higher up we go,” Ken said. “We’ll need extra clothing, flashlights, that sort of thing. You’ve done this before, right?”

  “I’m no novice,” Annja said. “As long as you can find us a store, we should be all set.”

  Ken leaned back. “We’ll arrive in about forty minutes. We should get some sleep. Who knows how far we might have to hike to reach the entrance to the caves.”

  “That’s if we find the caves,” Annja said.

  He grinned. “Just have some faith. I think we’ll be fine.”

  Annja settled back and closed her eyes. She hoped Ken was right.

  “I WAS VERY DISPLEASED to learn of the potentially lethal interference brought about by the Onigawa-gumi.” Nezuma spoke into the cell phone while watching Shuko as she made her way back down the train car to where he sat.

  The voice in his ear spoke for several more seconds. Nezuma sighed. “Well, let’s hope there are no more complications. If the Onigawa cannot control themselves, then we may never learn where the dorje is hidden. And if that happens, we are right back to where we started, which is to say nowhere.”

  He disconnected and looked at Shuko. “Did you find them?”

  “Two cars ahead of us. Both are asleep.”

  Nezuma nodded. “Good. At least they are none the worse for wear after that silly assault in Osaka.”

  “I take it the Onigawa-gumi played it off as nothing?”

  Nezuma shook his head. “The Yakuza are fools. They have little appreciation for what the dorje means and how it can be used to further all of our agendas if it is handled properly. Kennichi’s behavior has angered them substantially. They feel he has caused them a tremendous loss of face and mean to make him pay for it. Unleashing their child assassins was their pathetic attempt to make him feel like less of a man for being forced to deal with them.”

  “There’s no evidence that he did deal with them,” Shuko said.