by Wilson, Gar
"Now I've heard everything," McCarter muttered. "A born-again lunatic."
Suddenly a loud buzz sang from the console. The screen of a sonar tracking monitor revealed a blob of light that slowly approached the center of a bull's-eye.
"The Zesus is on schedule," Oshimi declared. "You can watch its progress on the sonar screen. When it reaches the center, the cannon will fire a single burst of incredible energy that will cut through the steel hull of the most advanced submarine in the world, as though it were made of papier-maché."
"At least this guy will get his when Randisi hits the castle at 0500 hours," Manning whispered to Yakov.
"We're not dead yet," the Israeli replied, trying to judge the odds of jumping the closest JRC gunman who stood guard over the Phoenix Force trio.
"Enjoy the program, gentlemen," Oshimi laughed. "It will be the last thing you'll ever see."
He raised his head and gazed up at the night sky beyond the muzzle of the laser cannon.
18
"No!" Professor Edward Oshimi screamed when he saw the figure positioned between the open doors of the observatory dome.
Rafael Encizo aimed his H&K MP-5 at the horrified terrorist leader. He squeezed the trigger. A spray of 9mm projectiles smashed into Oshimi's face. Bullets chopped through teeth and bone. Eyeballs exploded in their sockets. Professor Edward Oshimi's skull vanished in a nova of splattered brains and skull fragments.
Japanese Red Cell terrorists gasped in astonishment as they watched their messiah's decapitated corpse crumple to the floor. Rafael hosed two of the JRC underlings with 9mm rounds. The bullet-riddled zealots staggered and fell as their comrades swung weapons toward the observatory and opened fire.
They reacted too slowly. Rafael had already retreated behind the thick arch of the dome. The surviving terrorists were too busy trying to waste the Cuban to notice the tall silent figure who crept through the door of the war room.
A JRC trooper stationed by the door screamed. A long blood-drenched object burst from the center of his chest. Keio Ohara had driven the blade of his wakazashi clean through his victim from behind. Another terrorist turned to see the Colt 1911A1 in Keio's left fist. The pistol roared, and another JRC fanatic bought death when a .45 slug penetrated his heart.
Yakov, Manning and McCarter had already leaped into action like a trio of wildcats. Reacting the moment Rafael provided a distraction, the three warriors instantly turned on their captors.
Manning's technique was simple and effective. He grabbed a JRC guard's CAR-15 in one hand and yanked the barrel toward the ceiling while he punched the startled terrorist in the mouth. The powerful Canadian easily wrenched the Colt automatic rifle from his dazed opponent and dropped to one knee. Three 5.5mm rounds terminated the worldly cares of the fellow he had punched out. A second volley of bullets tagged another JRC goon before he could draw a side arm. The man's body was propelled into the base of the laser cannon. He slumped against the super weapon and died before he could whisper sayonara.
David McCarter shuto-chopped a .357 S&W from a terrorist's grasp. He followed with a combination back fist to the man's right temple and a knee to the groin. The devastated terrorist wilted to the floor as McCarter scooped up the discarded Magnum revolver.
He aimed the .357 at another terrorist who had fled to the cover of a computer console. The S&W roared, and a 158-grain wadcutter drilled a vicious path that started under the guy's left shoulder blade, ripped through his heart and emerged at the left breast pocket of his uniform shirt.
Yakov Katzenelenbogen pounced on a JRC sentry. Both men crashed to the floor and struggled over ownership of the guard's Skorpion machine pistol. Yakov ended the wrestling match by ripping out his opponent's throat with the steel hook.
Two unarmed technicians dashed for the collection of Phoenix Force weapons on the conference table.
Then hell struck from all sides. Manning swung the CAR-15 at the JRC tech men. Yakov, in a prone position, braced the Skorpion across his prosthetic arm and opened fire. Keio had returned his wakazashi to its scabbard and held the blazing .45 in both hands. More than a dozen projectiles in three different calibers pumped into the terrorist technicians. The impact sent their bullet-shredded bodies hurtling over the tabletop. As they tumbled across the furniture, Rafael sprayed the pair with a salvo of 9mm H&K rounds before the butchered corpses crashed to the floor.
"Damn," McCarter shouted, firing a hasty shot with the Magnum as a terrorist escaped out the door.
The .357 slug rang sourly when it struck the steel frame of the doorway. Keio bolted after the fleeing terrorist, followed by a furious McCarter.
Manning ran to the control panel of the laser cannon, while Yakov helped the drug-sedated Palmer to his feet. Rafael jumped from his perch, caught the barrel of the laser gun and swung down to the floor like a trapeze artist. The Cuban's warm smile vanished when he saw the concern on his partners' faces.
"A nuclear sub is about to be blasted out of the water," Manning updated him, hopelessly trying to make sense out of the maze of buttons, switches and knobs on the panel. "And I'll be damned if I can see how we can stop it!"
The white blob on the sonar screen continued to move closer to the bull's-eye. . . .
Keio and McCarter recognized Daito-san as they chased the terrorist swordsman down the stairwell. Daito jumped down the last six steps at the very moment the two Phoenix Force members opened fire. Bullets hissed behind the hurtling figure and ricocheted against stone.
Daito hit the floor in a mae ukemi roll. McCarter and Keio reached the foot of the stairs in time to see their quarry charge through one of the sliding doors. Flimsy bamboo shattered and silk screens tore as Daito plunged into the room.
"What's he up to?" McCarter wondered aloud as he and Keio cautiously approached the damaged door.
"Nihon-jin!" Daito called from inside the room. "Anatah-no o-namae wah?"
"I am Ohara Keio," Keio replied in Japanese, using the traditional style of putting the family name first.
"You carry a sword, Ohara-san ," Daito declared. "I too have a wakazashi. Come fight me. Blade against blade, on equal terms."
Keio did not have to consider the challenge. "I accept, Daito-san."
"I will trust you to honor the Code of Bushido."
"And I will trust you."
Keio handed his pistol and Ingram M-10 to McCarter as he explained the conversation to the confused Briton.
"Jesus, Keio," McCarter said. "That son of a bitch is a terrorist. His word isn't worth shit."
"He knows he is about to die," Ohara stated.
"And he wants to die as a samurai. I think he's telling the truth about that.
"Keep out of this duel, David," Keio told him. "This is between Daito and me. I want to finish him off."
"All right," McCarter reluctantly agreed. "If you lose I'm not about to agree to a sword fight with that bastard. I'll just shoot his bloody head off."
Ohara shoved open the sliding door. The room within was a dojo, almost identical to the Zembu Dojo in Tokyo. The floors were hardwood, and an assortment of Oriental weapons hung on the walls. Daito-san stood in the center of the room and bowed. Keio returned the gesture.
The JRC zealot had kept his word. His katana had been placed on a black wood stand, and he was armed with a samurai short sword.
"You are brave Ohara-san ," Daito declared as Keio entered the dojo. "I will try to kill you quickly."
Then he charged, slashing his sword at Keio's wrist, hoping to disable Ohara before he could even draw his weapon.
Keio pivoted and executed a flawless iai-jutsu draw, his sword streaking from its scabbard to block the attack with a clang of metal on metal. Daito hopped back, seized his sword with both hands and delivered a lightning-fast series of cuts and thrusts. Keio's wakazashi moved just as fast, blocking and parrying every stroke.
Daito smoothly changed tactics. He swung an overhead slash, then altered the attack to a lunge, trying to stab Keio in the throat with t
he slanted point of his wakazashi. The Phoenix Force member stepped back and met the sword thrust with his own weapon. Daito's left arm suddenly struck out, stamping the heel of his palm into the side of Ohara's head.
The blow staggered Keio. He nearly lost his balance as Daito rushed in, prepared to deliver a killing stroke with the sword. Keio's blade flashed. Metal sang once more. Keio's leg shot out in a rapid side kick, driving a foot into Daito's abdomen.
The kick sent Daito hurtling backward. He fell against the sword stand. Enraged, the terrorist unexpectedly threw his wakazashi at Ohara. Keio easily dodged the sword.
Daito whirled away from the stand, moving with the grace of a dancer and the speed of a whirlwind. Keio barely saw the blur of metallic light that extended from the swordman's fists. Daito had drawn his katana from its place in the stand.
Unprepared to deal with the longer samurai sword, Keio was caught off guard. The katana struck with tremendous force, the stroke powered by Daito's entire body and the momentum of his attack. Blade met blade. Keio's wakazashi popped out of his hand.
Daito instantly turned to deliver a decapitating stroke aimed at the side of Keio's neck. Keio avoided the sword by suddenly collapsing to the floor. The tactic surprised. Daito, who found his katana cutting nothing but air.
For a flickering of a second, Daito was not certain what had happened. Keio, sprawled on the floor in front of Daito, did not hesitate. Pivoting on the small of his back, he threw a reverse roundhouse kick, his foot striking the flat of Daito's sword. The terrorist half turned, managing to hold on to his weapon. Ohara's other leg powered a second kick. The edge of his boot hit Daito under the rib cage.
The JRC swordsman groaned in pain and surprise. He stumbled backward, lashing a wild sweep with his katana to keep Keio from closing in. Keio, however, rolled away from his adversary and sprang to his feet, quickly seizing a boken from the wall. Daito scoffed as he watched Keio Ohara prepare to defend himself with a wooden practice sword.
David McCarter aimed his .357 Magnum at the terrorist. Code of Bushido, be damned, he thought.
But the Briton hesitated and did not squeeze the trigger. He had given his word to Keio.
Daito slashed a powerful shomin-uchi overhead stroke. The boken whacked into the flat of Daito's sword, then it swung in a fast arc and slammed into the terrorist's left deltoid muscle.
Startled by the blow to his shoulder, Daito retreated, spun sharply and launched another shomin-uchi. Keio stepped forward. He suddenly bent at the knees and raised his boken and turned slightly. The wooden shaft struck Daito's forearms, but the terrorist still retained his katana.
Keio had pivoted under the raised swords to place himself beside Daito. He quickly seized the "blade" of his boken and rammed the butt of the wooden handle into his adversary's stomach. Daito doubled up with a grunt, and Keio immediately swung his boken at the base of the terrorist's skull. He missed the mark, striking Daito across the shoulder blades.
Daito bellowed with rage and scrambled away before Keio could deliver another stroke. Both men swung their weapons once more. Keio tried to strike the flat of the katana, aware that the steel, although incredibly sharp, is relatively brittle. Daito turned his blade slightly and the razor edge met wood.
The katana sliced through the boken as if it was a breadstick. Keio suddenly found himself holding a foot-long piece of wood that had been cleanly cut by a diagonal sword stroke.
A cry of victory sprang from Daito's throat as he executed a cross-body slash at Ohara's neck. Keio dropped to one knee, ducking beneath the whirling steel blade. His arms lunged forward. Daito screamed and staggered backward, the katana falling from his open fingers.
Keio Ohara had rammed the splintered point of his severed boken into his opponent's solar plexus.
Daito's mouth opened and bloodied vomit poured from it. His eyes opened wide in disbelief as his fingers explored the stump of wood buried in his chest. The upward thrust of the boken stroke had driven the tip into the terrorist's heart. Daito stared at Keio, blinked once and fell to the floor—dead.
"HOW MUCH TIME IS LEFT?" Aaron Palmer asked. "Two minutes," Rafael Encizo replied, watching the sonar screen. "Three at the most."
"Gary," Yakov began, "have you been able to determine how the laser cannon operates?"
"Hell," the Canadian answered as he scanned the controls, "this is out of my league. Maybe Keio could figure this thing out."
"There isn't time," Palmer insisted. "Can't we just push every button and throw every switch?"
"It won't do any good," Yakov answered. "The entire system is automated. The computer programming can't be reversed."
"But we can't just stand by and let it blast the Zesus out of the water," the CIA man exclaimed.
"If we can't deactivate it," Rafael said, "then there's only one thing left to do. . . ."
"Destroy it," Manning confirmed.
He ran to the conference table and grabbed his field pack full of explosives. The Canadian extracted a package wrapped in brown wax paper—a pound block of C-4 plastic explosives.
"I've got enough here to blow up the cannon," he announced. "As a matter of fact, this entire room is going up in smoke."
"Will it work?" Palmer inquired.
"Hell," Rafael said, "the laser cannon can't fire if it doesn't exist anymore."
"Undeniable logic," Yakov agreed, glancing at the sonar screen. "You've got less than a minute, Gary."
The Canadian inserted a special blasting cap into the dough like substance.
"You're down to thirty-five seconds now," Katz said.
"And I've set the detonator for thirty," Manning told them. "Let's get the hell out of here."
The four men bolted from the room and dashed for the stairs. They nearly ran into Keio and McCarter who were heading up the steps. There was no time to explain, as Manning and Rafael grabbed their partners by the arms and led them down the stairs. They reached the third floor and immediately ran to the next flight of stairs.
They were halfway down the steps to the second floor when the explosion occurred.
The observatory dome broke apart like an eggshell. The walls of the war room split open, and machinery erupted, severing wires and cables. The floor gave way, and the entire fourth floor crashed down into the third. Almost a ton of flaming, twisted rubble filled the corridor. Oshimi's "little Japan" section was crushed by the wreckage.
The whole castle trembled from the explosion.
Phoenix Force and Aaron Palmer were thrown off balance and toppled down the stairs to the second floor. A cloud of dust and smoke floated from the ruined stories above. Gary Manning shook his head to clear it and glanced at his watch.
"Seven seconds to spare," he announced. "We did it!"
EPILOGUE
The five men of Phoenix Force and Deputy Director Palmer watched the Bell UH-1D gunship from the boundaries of the coffee plantation as the helicopter hovered over the remnants of Oshimi Castle.
"I've got the place on target," Lieutenant Randisi declared.
"Do it," Yakov spoke into the handset of the field radio in their jeep.
"Yes, sir," Randisi replied.
Two missiles streaked from the undercarriage of the chopper. The projectiles sailed into the castle. Thermite-charged warheads exploded, and the entire structure burst apart. Flames rose from the wreckage as another pair of missiles flew into the debris.
"That did it, sir," Randisi announced. "Target destroyed. Terminated with extra prejudice."
"Good work, Lieutenant," Yakov said. "Return to Keahole Airport. We'll meet you there."
The Israeli switched off the field radio and turned to his fellow members of Phoenix Force. "It's over," he smiled weakly.
"I don't see why you insisted on destroying the castle," Palmer said. "The laser cannon was put out of action, the submarine was saved and all of Oshimi's men are dead."
"You would have liked to get your hands on that EES machine, eh?" McCarter commented.
&nb
sp; "A device like that should have been turned over to our government," Palmer said.
"It doesn't exist anymore," Rafael stated. "The United States won't get it and neither will the Russians."
"We could have used the EES machine to question enemy agents," Palmer said. "And to make completely fool proof security checks of personnel and defectors from behind the Iron Curtain. It could serve as a perfect lie detector. . . ."
"Professor Yoichi's advancements in electroencephalography exceeded anything previously accomplished in the field," Manning remarked. "What could that lead to? Not only extracting information but also programming subjects by stimulating fluctuations of the brain?"
"The ability to turn people into robots," Keio added. "No government should be able to wield that kind of power."
Yakov shrugged. "For now, all that matters is that we've accomplished our mission. It's time to go home."
