Kusanagi

by Clem Chambers

  Akira was looking at him intently.

  ‘I love you,’ she said.

  ‘That’s better – much better. And don’t say “but”. I love you too.’ He hung up.

  ‘Seven minutes,’ said Akira, reading the time to destination from the GPS. ‘Banzai,’ he said.

  ‘Seven minutes to Banzai,’ said Jim. He laughed, a note of insanity in his mirth.

  ‘Evans-san, will you tell my father?’ said Akira.

  ‘Tell him what?’

  ‘Tell him of our adventure if I cannot myself.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Jim, suddenly sober again. ‘Remember, as my nan used to say, that there is no challenge too big or problem too large that you can’t turn on your heels and run away like a rabbit.’

  ‘No, Evans-san. We must go on.’

  ‘This better have a happy ending,’ said Smith, putting his phone away. ‘Half of London’s being closed down because of it.’

  ‘Happy ending?’ snorted Stafford. ‘I think that’s highly unlikely.’

  Smith was fetching guns and ammunition from the rear footwells and stuffing his pocket with clips. ‘This is for you,’ he said, putting magazines into the armrest cup-holders.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Stafford, sticking two magazines in his breast pocket. ‘Could you reload this?’ He passed Smith his machine pistol.

  Smith changed the magazine and gave it back. ‘All set.’

  The GPS said three minutes to destination.

  Fifty yards ahead at the end of the cul-de-sac there was a red-brick warehouse. Its top half was constructed of corrugated iron and so was its slanting roof. Two dirty windows above a wide grey shutter gave the building a primitive face. It scowled down at them, its cheeks tattooed with graffiti.

  ‘You going to ring the doorbell?’ Jim asked Akira.

  ‘Banzai!’ yelled Akira, brandishing the sword.

  Jim knew what he meant. ‘Banzai!’ he roared. He stamped on the accelerator and the lorry jolted forwards. Thirty miles an hour should do it, he thought. He didn’t want to hit the shutter too hard. It loomed large as they hit twenty-five and Jim braced himself at the wheel. The cab shook violently as it struck the entrance, ripping the roll-up and its frame from the brickwork. He trod hard on the brakes and the shutter crashed to the ground.

  He looked into the warehouse through the cracked windscreen, his eyes accustoming to the gloom. There was another shutter fifty feet ahead. He stamped on the accelerator and set off to ram it.

  Kim jumped up from his chair. He was alone, and if he stayed in the office above the warehouse he would be trapped. There was a truck downstairs – he would use it to escape. He ran for the metal staircase and tore down it as fast as the shooting pains in his chest would let him. He was gasping for breath as he sprinted across the dusty concrete towards the vehicle.

  There was a crash at the inner door – he glanced over his shoulder. It was stoved in. From the other side he could hear the roaring of a large vehicle manoeuvring.

  He was finding it hard to see, but still he ran with all his strength. There was another crash behind him.

  ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck,’ shouted Jim, reversing again. ‘Banzai!’ he bellowed, flooring the accelerator once more.

  This time the lorry burst into the main warehouse in a shower of broken metal.

  ‘Kim!’ shouted Akira, pointing.

  Jim saw the man make the final feet to the lorry fifty yards away.

  ‘Get out,’ said Akira. ‘Get out, Evans-san. I will finish this.’

  ‘But you can’t drive.’

  ‘I can drive enough for this. Go now.’

  Jim grabbed the mirror and jumped out of the cab.

  Akira was in the driving seat, one hand on the wheel and Kusanagi drawn in the other.

  Kim’s lorry jerked forwards, and Jim stepped back as Akira set off.

  Kim stared at the truck in front of him. It was his men’s but Evans had got out and was running for the stairs to the mezzanine level. Kim’s pistol was between his legs on the seat.

  His men’s smashed-up truck was coming straight at him. They were on a collision course.

  Jim was racing up the metal staircase. He was suddenly very exposed. If Akira didn’t manage to crash into Kim he’d get mown down himself. On top of that there might be people in the offices above.

  ‘Oh, shit!’ he exclaimed. Kim was heading his way. If he avoided Akira, he was going to plough straight into the stairway. He took the stairs three at a time.

  Akira’s mouth was open in horror. The truck wasn’t responding to his swerve. It felt as if something was stuck, stopping it turning fully. The ramming had damaged the steering and as he yanked down on the wheel it failed to veer far enough to the left. Kim’s cab passed his.

  Kim crashed into the staircase just as Jim reached the top, the whole gantry shaking and twisting with the blow. Jim cried out as he lost his footing and fell, rolling backwards like a ball down the shattered stairs and onto the roof of Kim’s truck.

  He opened his eyes and gazed up at the ceiling, spreadeagled. His phone was ringing. It stopped. He rolled onto his side. A truck was heading straight for him. The truck below him shifted and the jolt forced him onto his back again. He felt the impact of the collision, which threw him across the roof of the truck. He was hanging off the side now, dazed and bleeding. His mind was operating automatically. He was hanging in a tight space between the side of a truck and a wall. If the vehicle set off again, it could easily squash him against the brickwork and crush the life out of him. He heaved himself back onto the roof with a grunt.

  Kim tried to reverse but the trucks were locked together. He grabbed his pistol and jumped out of the cab as Akira leapt down, the sword in his short hand. ‘Cripple! You brought a sword to a gun fight,’ he sneered.

  Akira was screaming as he ran at him.

  Kim aimed and pulled the trigger. He had forgotten to take the safety off. He felt a sharp blow on his wrist, followed by a burning sensation that flowed like an electric shock up his arm. His hand fell to the ground, the pistol in it. He bent down to it and saw a flash of white light like a magnesium flare that dazzled him. He knew something had happened but couldn’t think what.

  He felt himself falling, the world spinning as he fell. A rush of despair and desolation filled his soul. He felt pain as his head hit the concrete but he couldn’t feel his body. He tried to move, and felt nothing but the quiver of his tongue and a wet trail of saliva slide from his mouth.

  He saw Akira’s shoes and the tip of the sword Kusanagi. A dusty fleck of cardboard blew past his eyes as they blinked one last time.

  Akira turned as the Maybach screeched into the warehouse.

  Jim stumbled across the roof of Kim’s truck and lowered himself down at the far end. His body was burning as if he had been skinned and covered with salt. He dropped the two feet to the ground and crumpled, but forced himself upright and limped to the rear of the other truck.

  Stafford was aiming at him. ‘Jim!’ he exclaimed. ‘Thank God.’

  Akira turned to him, the sword Kusanagi in hand. ‘Where is the Yata no Kagami?’

  ‘Fuck knows,’ gasped Jim. He looked about wildly. ‘Up there – on the gangway.’

  ‘I’ll get it,’ said Smith. He vaulted onto the cab of the truck, scrambled up the mangled metal staircase, picked up the mirror and deftly climbed down.

  Jim looked at the decapitated body of Kim. It was a truly ugly sight. Then he looked at Akira who was wiping the blade of Kusanagi with a brown wool cloth. ‘Let’s get going,’ he said, as a wave of dizziness passed through him.

  Akira took the scabbard from the cab and slid the sword into it.

  Jim hobbled to the Maybach and got in. There was ammunition all over the place. He sat down and closed the door. Akira got in, followed by Stafford and Smith.

  ‘How are we going to get to the Japanese Embassy?’ said Jim.

  ‘May I look at that sword?’ asked Smith.

  Akira passed it to him
.

  Smith pulled it a little from its scabbard. There was a glint in his eye. He pushed it back and handed it to Akira. ‘I’m sure I can arrange an escort even with half of London under siege.’

  ‘Great,’ said Jim, slowly getting his wind back.

  ‘No thanks to any of you, of course,’ added Smith. ‘I have one condition, however.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘My superiors get the biggest thank-you note in the history of East–West relations, because otherwise my career is well and truly over.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Akira, as the car pulled away. ‘You have my word.’

  Smith took out his phone and dialled.

  The outrider cavalcade picked them up on the A13 and ferried them through central London as if no one else was meant to be on the streets. Jim was impressed by how little explanation Smith had been called upon to give. His conversations were limited to ‘I’m sorry, that’s classified.’

  Jim SMSed Jane: Everyone’s fine. Will call later. He wondered if he had been a bit premature.

  At last they were outside the Japanese Embassy in Piccadilly. Akira got out, ran around the rear of the bullet-riddled car, then up the stairs and into the building. Armed policemen ringed the door.

  ‘I’ll be in touch,’ said Smith, getting out.

  ‘Where to now?’ said Jim.

  ‘The Dorchester,’ said Stafford, pulling away with the escort. ‘I’ve booked suites.’

  ‘I could do with a drink,’ said Jim.

  ‘Perhaps I might take you to lunch at my club in Herbert Crescent. The walk will do you good.’

  67

  Bowing, Akira held out the sword to the Emperor, who passed the mirror to his private secretary. He was smiling broadly. His eyes were sparkling as he took Kusanagi. ‘This is a moment of destiny,’ he said, drawing the sword. The small crowd gasped and applauded.

  The Emperor examined the blade. ‘So, the sacred grass cutter is returned and with it our fate is changed.’ He slid the sword back into its scabbard and handed it, too, to his private secretary, who laid it on a cushion on a low table.

  The Emperor’s special adviser stepped forwards.

  ‘Professor Nakabashi, Japan thanks you for your heroic recovery of our national treasures. We cannot thank you or your helpers enough.’

  Akira felt there was something ominous about this statement.

  ‘Please pass our gratitude on to them,’ continued the adviser.

  ‘Certain important niceties are required to avoid embarrassment,’ said Akira.

  ‘Of course, but we cannot risk difficulties,’ said the adviser, smiling pleasantly.

  ‘Professor Nakabashi and his English friend must be given what they deserve,’ said the Emperor.

  ‘Evans-san is a connoisseur of antiquities, is he not?’ said the adviser.

  ‘Hi,’ said Akira.

  ‘Then we should make exquisite copies of the regalia so that he can enjoy a memento of his part in this great story.’

  ‘Hi,’ said Akira, and bowed with a smile. ‘I will arrange it.’

  The adviser glanced at the sword Kusanagi. He looked excited and, in a strange way, hungry.

  68

  The priest unwrapped the parcel slowly, making sure not to crack or split the ancient paper. He laid it out and opened the inner box. He cut the string holding the gold bar and took it out. He put the sword into the box and closed it, then wrapped the paper round it again. His old gnarled fingers were shaking as he fastened the package with a faded silk ribbon.

  The return of the Sword of the Gathering Clouds of Heaven was an awesome event. Japan’s warrior spirit was set to return. Gone would be the days of pacifism and peace. He could not help shedding a tear, whether in happiness or sadness he did not know.

  He took out his phone from his robes and read the haiku from the chief priest at the Meji temple.

  The lost reflections

  Returned from far away

  Show us all once more

  The old priest considered sending him a scroll of calligraphy in reply.

  69

  Stafford was regarding the construction work with mute concentration. In his right hand he held the tightly rolled blueprints. ‘It would be much quicker if you didn’t want such a complicated facility in the basement.’

  ‘The submarine dock?’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Stafford.

  Jim’s eyes glazed: he imagined navigating one of the personal subs he’d been reading about out of the old warehouse and into the river at high tide. The epic silliness of it made a wide grin spread slowly across his face. ‘Whatever it costs I’ll give ten times as much to Africa,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, sir, I know,’ said Stafford.

  ‘Maybe we could buy next door and knock it through.’

  ‘I suppose after the recent incident they might take an offer.’

  ‘Then I could have both mini-subs.’

  Stafford looked doubtful.

  Jim pulled out his Smartphone and checked for texts. Weeks had passed without a word from Jane. From the moment she had made sure he was out of trouble she had vanished off the radar. She was gone for good this time, he was sure of it. He stared at the blank screen for a few more seconds, then switched it off and returned it to his pocket.

  Stafford was watching two men in hard hats walk along the highest gantry.

  ‘Well,’ said Jim, his reverie at an end, ‘it’ll be brilliant when it’s finished.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Stafford. ‘Quite a lair.’

  70

  It was a cool autumn day, the white fluffy clouds blown across the blue sky by a constant fresh wind.

  Jenny, the chief archaeologist, was wearing a green Barbour as she scraped at the earth with her trowel. In front of her stood a great seventeenth-century mansion, its fancy red brick fascia and its black mullion windows basking in the warm light of the afternoon. The leaves on the mature trees in the grounds were starting to turn. She was daydreaming about the coming weekend when a little flash of gold grabbed her attention. She sat back on her kneepads. ‘Got something.’ She called again, louder this time, so that the others would hear: ‘Got something.’ Maybe whatever it was would keep their patron happy for a bit.

  Well, Jimmy,’ she said, chewing her Nicorette gum. ‘It’s over to you.’

  Jim took the little teaspoon she offered him and knelt in the earth. He stared at the little blob of gold poking through the rich dark brown earth of the Elizabethan apothecary garden.

  The sound of a distant car grinding up the long gravel drive broke his attention. He focused and flicked away some grains of earth. He dug a little more, and then a little more. He couldn’t make out any design on the gold surface. Was it a coin? He sighed and sat back. He lifted up an old milk bottle top.

  ‘Never mind,’ said the archaeologist, ‘maybe next time.’

  A black Mercedes rolled past and stopped outside the main entrance.

  Jim scrambled to his feet just as Akira got out with a case. ‘Professor!’ he shouted, waving. He trotted towards Akira. ‘How are you?’ He noticed that Akira’s hair had turned completely white.

  ‘I’m well,’ he said. ‘I bring you gifts from the Emperor.’

  ‘Brilliant,’ said Jim. ‘What do you think of the new place?’

  ‘Very nice,’ said Akira, turning to admire the huge red-brick house and its ornamental parkland.

  ‘I thought I should buy historic houses and dig them up,’ said Jim. ‘You know, turn them into my own archaeological digs.’

  ‘Interesting,’ said Akira. ‘What have you found?’

  ‘Bugger all,’ said Jim, ‘but it’s early days yet. Come on in.’

  His office was a huge book-lined room with a giant walnut desk in a bay window. ‘I won’t take too much of your valuable time,’ said Akira, opening his bag. ‘Can you help me with this?’

  Jim helped him lift a gold box onto the desk. The golden sun rose over a golden coast. It felt heavier than he remembered. ‘It�
�s not, is it?’ he said.

  ‘No,’ said Akira. ‘It’s a very beautiful reproduction. Sadly we have not been able to reproduce the mechanism as that would have added many months to the process. The top is released by a latch on the side.’ He pressed a hidden button and lifted the lid.

  He passed the necklace to Jim. It was as lovely as he remembered it. He put it on. It didn’t feel the same – it lacked the almost imperceptible sensation of warmth. He took it off and laid it on the table. Akira passed him the mirror. The carving didn’t seem so incredibly refined and the mirrored surface was perfect, clear and undistorted. Jim’s chin wasn’t nearly so rugged. He laughed. ‘Thanks,’ he said, smiling. ‘It’s a beaut. You shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble.’ He laid it down, tilted up on its lotus bud handle.

  Akira gave him the sword. The sun was streaming in through the window and lit the room with a white light. He pulled it from its scabbard and held it up. He smiled, his heart suddenly pounding. The blade flashed, and outside a breath of wind blew through the trees. ‘You didn’t?’ he said, his mouth falling open. The iridescent blade seemed to pulsate. ‘You haven’t, have you?’

  ‘I was told by the Emperor to give you what you deserved,’ said Akira.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ said Jim.

  ‘The Emperor needs all the health and wisdom the heavens can offer.’ He frowned. ‘But does Japan need any more courage or valour? Does it need more warriors? Does it need war?’

  ‘What am I meant to do with it?’ said Jim, looking down at the shimmering blade.

  ‘Hang it on your wall,’ said Akira, ‘and hope that you never need to take it down.’

  Clem Chambers is CEO of ADVFN (www.advfn.com), Europe and South America’s leading financial market website. Established in the last quarter of 1999, Chambers floated the company in 2000. The ADVFN website now has over 2,000,000 registered users who generate in excess of 300 million page impressions a month. ADVFN is the number one destination for UK private investors, who log on to view global market data and use the site’s leading edge trading tools.

  A broadcast and print media regular, Clem Chambers is a familiar face and frequent co-presenter on CNBC and CNBC Europe. He is a seasoned guest and market commentator on BBC News 24, Newsnight, BBC 1, CNN, SKY News, TF1, China’s Phoenix TV, Canada’s Business News Network and numerous US radio stations. He is renowned for calling the markets and predicted the end of the bull market back in January 2007 and the following crash. He has appeared on ITV’s News at Ten and Evening News discussing failures in the banking system and featured prominently in the Money Programme’s Credit Crash Britain: HBOS — Breaking the Bank and on the BBC’s City Uncovered: When Markets Go Mad.