Alex Archer - Warrior Spirit

“That’s right.”

“Well, if you’re the last one left, how did you learn what you know—what I’m assuming is ninjitsu ?”

“It’s a fair question,” Ken said. “The truth is, there are other ninjitsu ryuha still in existence. Very few. But there are some. And the man I study with is the grandmaster of three of the only remaining systems to date.”

“He’s here in Tokyo?”

“No. Outside of Tokyo, actually. There’s a small industrial town to the northwest called Chiba-ken. He teaches there.”

Ken could feel Annja’s excitement rise a notch. It felt as if the car had filled with electricity. Annja looked at him, her eyes widening. Ken felt himself drawn into them, as if he could get lost in the secrets they contained. He shook himself slightly, trying to keep himself composed.

Annja touched him on the arm. “I’d like to meet this man.”

Ken had known she would. He had studied enough about Annja to know that she would never turn down the chance to learn something new or at least explore something that supposedly didn’t exist anymore.

“He teaches tomorrow night.” He smiled. “If you like, we can go to his class then.”

Annja leaned back in her seat and nodded. “So, I’ll meet the last grandmaster of ninjitsu . Cool.”

Ken chuckled. “Well, others claim they are, in fact, also grandmasters, but it’s mostly false.”

“How so?” Annja asked.

“The man you’ll meet tomorrow night is the only one recognized by the Japanese government as being legitimate. He’s been labeled a national living treasure, as well, since he helps maintain a piece of Japan’s past and its traditions—even one as controversial as ninjitsu .”

Annja grinned. “I’ve recovered a lot of treasures before. I don’t think I’ve ever met a living treasure, though.”

“He’ll like you.”

“How do you know?”

Ken looked at her. “Because you’re beautiful. And he happens to love beautiful women.”

Annja frowned. “Give me a break.”

The light finally changed and Ken pressed the accelerator. “I didn’t mean to upset you with that comment.”

Annja shrugged. “Sorry. It’s just I get tired of hearing that people either like or dislike based entirely on whether a person is attractive or not.”

“I meant it only as a compliment.”

“I know.” Annja ran a hand through her hair. “Sometimes I think I hear it too often.”

“Most people, they wouldn’t mind hearing that said about them,” Ken said.

Annja shook her head. “I don’t hear it said about me often. Mostly I hear it said about other women.”

Ken smiled. “That other anchor on Chasing History’s

Monsters . What was her name? The one with the sexy wardrobe malfunction.”

“Kristie Chatham.” Annja sighed. “She and I have differing views on how best to present a story to our audience.”

Ken made a left turn, checking his rearview mirror. He didn’t see anything there that concerned him. “In her defense, there’s nothing wrong with being beautiful.”

“But when it obscures the topic at hand, when the audience downloads a video to see a top pop off rather than the story, then that’s a problem. At least it is in my book. I think I’m in the minority of opinion, though,” Annja said.

Ken laughed. “Probably so. But I find your journalistic integrity refreshing.”

“Yeah?”

Ken nodded. “Yes. I can assure you there will be no time for the wearing of bikini tops on this trip to find the artifact. I think, therefore, you are reasonably safe.”

“Great.”

Ken wheeled the Mercedes down another side street. “We’re almost there.”

“Almost where?” Annja glanced out the window. Ken could see she had no idea where they were. He knew trying to gauge location at night in a foreign city was a daunting task.

“Your hotel, of course.”

Annja frowned again. “You know where I’m staying?”

“Of course.”

She turned and Ken could see her hands bunched up, almost as if she thought he might attack her. He held up his hands for a brief moment, risking taking them off the steering wheel for effect.

“I’m not stalking you, Annja. If that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I might be.” She kept her hands bunched up.

“You’re cautious. I can certainly appreciate that. I try to be that way myself. Especially when I travel.”

“So you understand why I’m about two seconds away from getting out of this car and never seeing you again.”

Ken pulled over to the side of the road and unlocked the doors. “You’re more than welcome to leave. Although honestly, I hope you don’t.”

She looked at the door and then back at Ken. “Why do you know where I’m staying?”

“Because I’m careful about who I approach and entrust with confidential information.” He looked in the rearview mirror again. “I like making sure people are who they claim to be.”

“I don’t claim to be anyone but an archaeologist. That’s it.” Annja pursed her lips. “If you’ve heard otherwise, you were misled.”

Ken braced his hands on the steering wheel and stretched his back, relieving some of the tension he felt creeping into his muscles. “It’s a force of habit. I’ve been dealing with people throughout my entire life who were often not operating in my best interests. Ulterior motives are a nasty business.”

“Agreed,” Annja said. She seemed to relax slightly.

Ken tilted his head. “But you are without guile. I can talk to you about the nature of my family’s troubles. I can ask for your help and guidance and I feel quite comfortable doing so.”

Annja waggled her eyebrows. “You never know, Ken. I might just be a plant.”

Ken shook his head. “And there you have the reason I know where you are staying.”

Annja sniffed. “You’ve had me staked out since I landed?”

Ken took a breath. “If we’re being honest about things…it has actually been a bit longer than that.”

Annja frowned again. “Just how long have you been around?”

“Would you believe three months?” Ken hoped his smile was disarming enough to distract her from the length of time.

Annja’s eyes went wide. “Three months? You’ve been following me all over the world for the past twelve weeks?”

Ken smirked. “And you thought you were exhausted. I could do with a healthy spell of sleep myself.”

Annja crossed her arms. “I can’t believe it.”

“I know what you’re thinking. How could this Japanese dude actually follow me around the world without me noticing him? After all, I’m pretty aware. I can sense things to some extent.”

Annja whipped her head around. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Had he just touched a nerve? Ken filed it away for the moment. “Only that you are, for the most part, an extremely aware woman. But even those who think they are aware usually have gaps in their defenses. Those gaps can be exploited. In this case, it enabled me to remain invisible despite your attentiveness.”

“How?”

Ken shrugged. “Let’s take your recent trip to Marrakech.”

“You were there, too?” Annja shook her head. “I don’t believe this.”

“You stopped at a stall in the market to buy a mango. Do you remember?”

He watched her eyes track to the lower left. He could see her recalling the moment in her head. Vaguely, she nodded.

“It was pretty hot that day. The sun blazed overhead like a blast furnace. I thought I might melt under my robes. But luckily, you didn’t stay that long and I was able to shed my garb and move inside to cooler environs.”

“But where were you?”

“Across the way. You bought the mango and some dates, if I recall. I was at the stall with the cheap necklaces.”