By The Sword Part 46

He dashed back up to the second floor and ran its length, shouting a warning and a call to arms.

He pounded on his sensei sensei's door.

"Akechi-sensei! We're being attacked. They want the katana and the girl!"

The door swung open and s.h.i.+ro gasped at the sight of his teacher's face. He must have removed his mask and hadn't had time to replace it.

"Arm yourself and guard the katana and the child! Let no one near them! I will guard the sacred scrolls! Hurry!"

s.h.i.+ro ran to his room and grabbed his katana. He was starting back toward the hall when he spied his bow standing in a corner.

... guard the katana and the child! Let no one near them! guard the katana and the child! Let no one near them!

How better to do that than thin the ranks of the attackers?

He grabbed his quiver and ran for the stairwell at the end of the hall.

Darryl let one of the big guys without a headache kick in the doors.

The first room was dark and empty save for some bedding-didn't they call it a futon or something like that?-along with some clothes and not much else.

In the second they found a couple of burning candles and an old, bald-headed guy in a blue robe, cowering on his futon. Looked like some sort of monk-like from a kung-fu movie. Then Darryl noticed with a start that he didn't have any legs.

The monk was wailing in j.a.panese, motioning them to leave.

"What do we do?" a Kicker said to Menck.

Before Menck could answer, another said, "We do like the boss said. We f.u.c.k him up."

The monk's wailing and whimpering grew louder as the two of them stepped forward, one with a two-by-four, one with a crowbar. They raised them when they reached him-and suddenly the monk didn't look afraid anymore, and his wailing and whimpering changed to raging screams as he pulled a long sword from beneath his robe and started swinging.

Darryl cried out in surprise and fell back. He watched in horror as the monk opened the first Kicker's thigh, then backhanded a slice deep into the second's knee. They screamed and went down. Fortunately they fell on him, pinning him. A couple of other Kickers rushed in and turned the old dude's skull to mush.

"s.h.i.+t!" Darryl shouted. "These guys are crazy!"

Menck knelt next to the futon and started tearing strips from the bedding. As he wrapped one around the bleeding thigh he looked up at Darryl.

"I'll take care of these guys. Keep going. Let's find what we came for and get the h.e.l.l out of this madhouse. And be careful, d.a.m.n it."

Don't need to tell me, Darryl thought.

He wished he was staying behind with Menck.

"All right, guys. Let's roll. Stick together and keep your eyes open. You see anyone who ain't us, clobber him first and ask questions later."

As he was rejoining the Kickers in the hall, one of them let out a gurgling cry. Darryl watched him sink to the floor clutching at a black arrow shaft sticking out both sides of his neck.

And then another went down with an arrow sticking out of his head-this one didn't come out the other side.

Suddenly everyone wanted into the room. All but one. This bearded mountain of a Kicker Darryl knew only as Jesse picked up a dead j.a.p in the hall and charged whoever was shooting at them, holding the corpse in front of him as he bellowed at the top of his lungs.

Darryl dropped to his knees and dared a peek down the hall. He saw a skinny guy in black, much like the ones who'd charged him in the Lodge bas.e.m.e.nt, standing by the front entrance and shooting arrow after arrow like a machine. Some of his shots went wide, but a lot of them plowed into the dead monk.

Finally the j.a.p ran out of arrows. When Jesse saw this, he tossed the monk aside and picked up speed toward the j.a.p. Now that it was safe to go out, the Kickers around Darryl loosed howls of rage and joined the chase like a pack of baying hounds. Not wanting to be thought of as a coward, Darryl brought up the rear, keeping an eye over his shoulder in case another archer appeared.

Out of arrows and with a mob coming his way, the j.a.p turned and ran for the far end of the hall. The Kickers were almost even with the entrance when four j.a.ps in suits-suits and ties ties-stepped into view.

Like it had a single mind, the mob changed course and charged toward the newcomers.

"Stop," Hideo said, staring at the building a few hundred yards ahead.

Kenji pulled the car onto the shoulder and looked at him expectantly.

Hideo checked the coordinates. Yes, this was the place. But look at all the vehicles in front of it. That did not seem at all in keeping with the Kakureta Kao's antiquated ways.

He had talked to the home office and had been told that Kaze Group had no dealing with the cult. Hideo was free to do what he wished with them.

He tapped Kenji's shoulder and said, "Turn off the headlamps and proceed to the building. We do not want to announce our presence too early."

Kenji complied and soon they were gliding up to the ruined front gate.

"Park here. We will walk the rest of the way."

A moment later Hideo, Kenji, Goro, and Ryo were standing in a tight circle. The three yakuza were fastening silencers to their pistols. Even Hideo was armed for this trip, but he kept his weapon in the holster strapped to his shoulder. He had no idea what make it was, only that it was loaded with.9mm hollow-point rounds and ready to fire. He felt no need for a silencer, for he had no intention of drawing and firing it unless circ.u.mstances became dire. And in that case, he doubted silence and secrecy would be issues.

When the yakuza were satisfied with their weapons, the four of them walked through the gate and toward the main entrance. As they wove through the parked vehicles, they heard groans and voices. They came upon half a dozen or so dead or wounded Caucasians. These were most certainly not Kakureta Kao monks.

One of them with a b.l.o.o.d.y head looked up and spotted them. He was carrying a crowbar. He lifted it as he rushed them.

"Dirty motherfu-"

Phut!

Kenji shot him in the face. Before the man's body hit the ground, Ryo and Goro were shooting anyone not already dead, and even those who were.

He noticed strange tattoos on the hands of some of the corpses. He'd seen that spidery figure here and there about town.

But the figure didn't bother him a fraction as much as his lack of shock or revulsion at the cold-blooded murder of these men. The prospect of failing in his quest for this strange, elusive katana had changed him. He was now ready to eliminate, by any means necessary, every barrier or impediment to his finding it.

He motioned the yakuza toward the main entrance and they joined up with him. As they pushed through the gla.s.s doors they saw a slim young j.a.panese man dash past, clutching an old-fas.h.i.+oned samurai bow.

A Kakureta Kao member?

They stepped into the hall for a better look and found themselves in the path of a charging crowd of a dozen or so Caucasians. Hideo leaped back while the three yakuza held their ground and opened fire. In five seconds it was over. All the Caucasians were down, screaming, groaning, writhing on the floor.

Goro and Ryo reloaded while Kenji finished those still alive. Then he too reloaded.

Hideo noticed more of the spidery tattoos. Was this some sort of rival cult at war with Kakureta Kao?

No matter. They were all dead. At least he hoped so.

He pointed to Ryo and Goro. "You two search that side." He gestured to Kenji. "We will take this side. Use your flashlights. Search every room. Find that katana."

The first room he entered held an eyeless monk on a futon. Here at last was the Kakureta Kao.

"Where is the katana?" he asked in j.a.panese.

The monk smiled and shook his head.

Kenji shot him in the leg.

He howled wordlessly and clutched his wound, and Hideo saw no sign of a tongue in his open mouth. Kenji looked at Hideo. Hideo considered the madness of this cult and concluded he would learn nothing from this one, even if he had a tongue. He nodded.

Kenji shot the monk in the head. As they searched the room, Hideo heard pleading cries in English from a room across the hall: "No!" and "Please, no no!" Then phut phut sounds. Then silence. sounds. Then silence.

More of the spider cult dead.

"Keep searching," he said.

He and Kenji joined the others in the hallway and proceeded to the next set of rooms. As Goro and Ryo opened the door to theirs, an aging monk, holding a long tanto high, screamed and leaped at Goro. Hideo saw Ryo's pistol flash up, and Kenji's whip around, but too late: The monk buried the blade to the hilt in Goro's chest.

Goro managed to get off a shot into his belly, and his two fellow yakuza finished the job. Goro swayed, then toppled backward like a felled oak to lie staring blindly at the ceiling.

Ryo and Kenji rushed to him, screamed curses when they confirmed what Hideo already knew. Ryo shot the dead monk twice more in the head, then removed his suit coat and draped it over Goro's head and shoulders.

Watching it all, as if from a great distance, Hideo wondered about his detachment. He'd never seen death before coming to America, and now he was inured to it. Or had his mind and emotions merely stepped back so as not to go mad?

"Let's keep moving," he said.

Hank and his posse reached the second floor and found it empty. And after he signaled to Jantz to turn off his chainsaw, it was quiet.

"Okay," he said. "Here's what we do. Since we have only two flashlights between us, we divide into two groups and check each and every room. You see the girl or you see the sword, you give a holler and-"

"Aiiiii!"

The hall around them exploded with cries and movement as a half dozen blue-robed figures burst from doorways with knives and swords held high. Even more startling than their sudden onslaught were the silk masks beneath their hoods.

Even stranger was the fact that two of the monks had only one arm, and another was hopping on one leg.

A couple of Kickers went down immediately, but the rest recovered and fought back. The three amputees went down first, and the other able-bodied types soon followed. But they'd taken out five Kickers-three dead and two wounded.

Hank had the two wounded placed on the stairs. One had a stab wound in his leg, and the other had had his left arm sliced open.

"Wait here. Keep pressure on those wounds. We'll be back for you."

He looked around at his crew, whittled abruptly from fifteen to ten. Hank was shaking inside. He wanted out of here so bad he could taste it. But he needed the girl and the katana-in that order. If it came down to a choice between the two, he'd take Dawn. He needed that baby, needed the Key to the Future more than anything else.

"Change of plans," he said, doing his best to appear calm and in control. "No splitting up. I think we've pretty much wiped them out, but we'll play it safe and all go door to door together."

The nods all around told him that was a popular decision.

The first two rooms they broke into were unoccupied. One looked like a tiny dorm room, but the other was big and set up with a bloodstained table and a bunch of knives and saws that looked like surgical equipment.

He had a feeling some ugly stuff had gone down in there.

In the third room they found a bald old monk with no arms or legs lying on a futon. The socket of his shoulder, where his arm should have started, was freshly sutured. What was wrong with him? Gangrene? Why hadn't they taken him to a hospital?

"What do we do with him?" one of the Kickers said, stepping up to the futon and bending over the monk. "Look. He's smiling. Like he's glad to see us."

Another Kicker stepped over for a look. "d.a.m.n. If he ain't."

Hank was debating whether or not to club the guy when the two Kickers cried out in surprise.

"s.h.i.+t!" one said, pulling something from his neck. "He spit something at me." He held up a red-striped toothpick. "Look at this!"

The other pulled the same from his cheek. "Me too."

That seemed to settle it without a word from Hank. He turned away as they pulped the monk's head.

Hank motioned toward the door. "On to the next."

But as he reached the door he heard two heavy thumps behind him. He turned and saw the two Kickers crumpled on the floor. He stepped over and checked them. Their wide, staring eyes told him they were dead.

He turned to the others. "Those toothpick things must have been poison. All right, that settles it. You see one of these guys, you flatten him."

The next door was heavier than the rest-thick oak planks that resisted their most powerful kicks. A secure room... made to safeguard valuables. Valuables like Dawn and the sword, maybe?

Hank turned to Jantz and pointed to his chainsaw. "Fire that thing up again and go to work."