F. Paul Wilson - By the Sword

Interesting.

Jack picked up his pace and closed the distance between them. When the guy stopped at another pole that carried both flyers, he was practically on top of him.

As the guy ripped off Naka's poster, Jack noticed the Kicker Man tattoo on his thumb web.

Even more interesting. Maybe even verging on fascinating.

Jack reached past him and tugged the Dawn flyer free and crumpled it into a ball.

The Kicker whirled on him. "Hey! You outta your head? Whatcha think you're doin?"

Jack put on a surprised look. "Why, same as you. Cleaning up these unsightly flyers. Aren't they just the worst nuisance?"

"You mind your own goddamn business."

"You mean you don't want help?"

"Help?" He waved the pink flyers in Jack's face. "You wanna get rid of these, fine." He snatched the Dawn flyer from Jack's hand. "But you leave these alone."

"Why? They're just as ugly."

That seemed to stump him, but only for a few seconds.

"No, they ain't. And besides, these here are trying to help find a missing girl. These others are trying to find a crummy-looking sword… a… a weapon of death. Yeah, a weapon of death."

"Hmmm." Jack pretended to give this serious consideration. "I see your point. But who is this missing girl and who are the people looking for her? Her family?"

"Yeah. Her family. That's it. She ran away from home and nobody knows where she went. They want her back real bad."

"How do we know they weren't abusing her?"

"Listen up, asshole." The Kicker's expression became menacing as he leaned close to Jack. His breath stank. "Stop asking so many questions. If you don't know where she is, then shuddup and move on. 'Cause if you ain't part of the solution, you're part of the problem. Get that? Move on and keep your mitts off the girl flyers."

"Did something die in your mouth?"

The guy's faced contorted. He half raised a fist, then seemed to think better of it. Instead he pointed his finger in Jack's face.

"You just remember what I told you or some bad shit's gonna come down and you're gonna be right under it. Unnastand?"

"Perfectly."

"Good."

With that he turned and stomped away. As he passed a trash can he tossed in all the flyers, including Dawn's.

So… the Kickers—Hank Thompson, in other words—were encouraging people to look for Dawn, but didn't want anyone looking for the katana. Because he already had it and didn't want anyone else looking for it?

That meant a fourth player was in the mix.

Naka Slater, the people behind the fake Naka, the yakuza, and now the Kickers.

This was crazy. What was it about that thing?

Well, he was out of it. From the start the chances that Slater would get a hit from those flyers had been slim at best. Now, with the Kickers combing the town and removing them, chances approached zero.

Yeah. Out of it.

So why didn't he feel relieved?

Jack knew the answer. Because the Kickers were interested in the sword. He didn't know what that meant, but the Kicker-Otherness connection said it couldn't be a good thing.

He'd sensed something strange about that sword, but what use could it be to Hank Thompson? Whatever it was, he doubted it was for a good purpose. Maybe he should—

Stop it, he told himself. You're out of it. Forget about it.

And then his cell rang. Slater was on the other end.

"Jack? I think we've got a hit."

Swell.

Naka Slater looked both excited and worried as they sat on a park bench near the center of Madison Square Park. Jack sat next to him, munching on a hot dog with peppers and onions from the Shake Shack on the downtown end near 23rd Street. The bench offered a good view of the ornate wedge of the Flatiron Building. The trees were in full bloom, their branches undulating in a gentle breeze. Schoolkids, old folks, secretaries, suits, hipsters, and bag ladies paraded along the crisscrossing paths.

Jack remembered when the only folks who'd enter this park were junkies, pushers, and clueless tourists.

"No one will listen to me," Slater said.

"Who-what?"

"Neither Homeland Security nor the NYPD. I told them about the Kakureta Kao and the Black Wind but I could tell they thought I was nuts."

"Imagine that."

"You think I'm nuts too, don't you."

"I came here about the call, remember? We're after the katana, right?"

"Yeah, but—"

"The call?"

He sighed and handed his cell phone to Jack. "Okay, okay. I've already entered the service number. Listen to the voice as well as the content."

Jack hit the SEND button, punched in the code Slater gave him, and listened.

"Hello. My name is James and I saw your flyer. I have the sword you seek and I know it's a Masamune. So I want more than five thousand for it. I'll need twice that. Call me back if that is acceptable. If not, I will keep it for myself."

Jack pressed the 1 button to replay the message.

Something familiar about that voice…

"Hear those inflections?" Slater said. "He's Japanese."

"You're sure?"

"I speak both languages—very well, I might add. I learned them at a very early age, but Japanese came first, and certain rhythms and inflections bleed through to the trained ear. This fellow speaks nearly flawless English, but there's no question in my mind that Japanese was his first language."

And then it clicked: the leader of the yakuza. He'd spoken—at least to Jack's ear—flawless English.

Red flags flew up all over his brain.

Slater said, "Do you think I should meet his demand? I mean, I can afford ten thousand, but—"

"Agree to it, but let me handle it."

Slater's eyebrows lifted. "You think he's lying? He knew it was a Masamune. That says a lot, don't you think?"

"Doesn't mean he has it. Might just as easily mean he's planning to scam you, or he's looking for it too."

"But he must realize I don't have it. I'd hardly be offering a reward for something I already had."

"Might think—correctly, I assume—that you know more about it than he." He hesitated. He didn't want to mention the Kickers' involvement, but he'd already mentioned a third party, so… "I think he's that other player in this sword quest."

Slater's eyes widened. "The yakuza? Do you think they've got it?"

"Not sure, but I'd lay odds they don't. I will bet they've scoped you out as the original owner. So if they're looking for the sword and want to know more about it, you da man."

"So what do I do?"

"Give me his number and I'll call him back. I'll agree to the extra money, and set up a meet ASAP—preferably here, preferably today."

Slater looked around. "Do you really think it's safe to carry that much cash around here?"

Jack gave him a look. "You kidding? Nobody's carrying cash anywhere. You're staying in your hotel room and I'm going to check out whoever shows up."

"You think they'll try something sneaky?"

Sneaky … how quaint.

"Yeah. Maybe even… deceitful."

"I grieve over Tadasu-san," Shiro told his sensei, and meant it. He would miss him.

They sat in the classroom.

Akechi- sensei nodded gravely. "Yes, the Order is poorer for his passing. But he died serving the Order, something we all must be ready to do at any moment."

"I am ready, sensei ."

He was also ready to ascend from acolyte to temple guard. He hated to think about it, but Tadasu's passing left an opening in the guard. Perhaps he would be assigned…

Shiro hesitated to bring up the subject, but he needed confirmation of a rumor.

"Is it true what I am hearing, sensei ?"

"And what would that be?"

"That the Order is looking for a pregnant woman?"