Nagano laughed, but he needed a rest. Kurt went ahead to scout out the building, so they sat down and waited for him to return.
After a few minutes, Kurt appeared. “No sign of our robot friends.”
“Thankfully, they don’t have wings,” Joe said.
Kurt nodded and broke out the NUMA transceiver. “Time to call for help,” he said, turning it on and waiting for it to sync up. When a green light told him it was ready, he pressed the transmit button. “Akiko, are you out there?”
Several seconds went by without a response.
“Let’s hope she hasn’t tossed the transceiver overboard because it’s a piece of modern technology,” Joe said.
“Akiko, this is Kurt. Do you read me? Press the transmit button on the side of the receiver if you do.”
Static, and then: “I know how to use a radio, thank you.”
“Glad you’re still with us,” Kurt said. “Have you had any problems?”
“Aside from bailing rainwater all night, no.”
“Wish we could say the same,” Kurt replied. “Good news is, we’ve got Nagano. Bad news, we’re being hounded. We’re going to meet you halfway. Can you get the boat in position?”
“Yes,” she said. “Absolutely.”
“Watch for us,” Kurt said. “We’re going to use the wing and the parasail.”
“I’ll collect you as soon as you hit the water.”
Kurt acknowledged the transmission and put the transceiver away. “The diagonal bridge is three levels below us. Let’s go.”
They made their way down the stairs and found the diagonal bridge that they’d crossed on the way in. After scouting for robots, they stole across the bridge and entered the building they’d landed on. They soon located the main stairwell and began climbing until they reached the top floor and the fallen concrete slab they’d used as a ramp on the way in.
Scaling it was slow and difficult; it was slick with rainwater, grime and mold.
Kurt moved upward on his hands and knees, the Honjo Masamune still clutched in one hand, which slowed him down enough that Joe was the first to reach the summit.
As Joe’s head rose above ground level, someone started firing at him. Bullets hit around him, kicking up waterspouts and blasting chips of concrete from the rooftop.
Joe dropped back and slid down the wet slab, collecting Nagano and Kurt on the way.
“Wasn’t expecting a welcoming party,” Kurt said.
“Let’s see who it is,” Joe replied.
He eased his way back to the top, held the 9mm pistol out over the edge and fired several shots in the general direction of the target. Enough to get anyone to duck.
With a second to take a look, Joe glanced over the edge and then dropped back down again.
“Robots?” Kurt asked.
Joe shook his head. “Yakuza assassin with an ax to grind. Or should I say sword. He’s got a pistol in one hand and that katana in the other.”
“Is he alone?”
“Han’s man Gao is with him.”
“Throw your weapons out and surrender,” Oni’s voice boomed across the rooftop.
“So you can frame us for murdering the Japanese Prime Minister?” Joe shouted back. “No thanks.”
“Then come up and fight,” Oni said. “Or wait for the robots to come up and tear you apart. It makes no difference to me.”
“He does have us at a disadvantage,” Nagano said.
“And he’s not wrong,” Kurt said. “The situation is only going to get worse when the robots arrive.”
“So we charge him and take our chances,” Joe suggested.
“I thought you were against suicidal plans,” Kurt said.
“In principle,” Joe said. “But we’re running out of options.”
“I have an idea,” Kurt told him. “Keep him talking. Fire a shot his way every once in a while to keep his attention on you.” As Kurt spoke, he held up the sword. “I’m going to flank him . . . samurai-style.”
As Kurt moved off, Joe crawled up the slab and triggered off a single round as a conversation starter. “You don’t have much to hide behind up there,” he pointed out. “Out in the open and all exposed. All I need is one good shot and you’re a dead man.”
“You’ll never get that lucky,” Oni laughed. “But if you want to come up and play, I’ll allow it. I’ll even let you get to your feet and give you a fighting chance.”
“I suspect he’s probably lying,” Nagano said.
Joe laughed. “And I suspect you’re right.”
In response to the offer, Joe held the gun over the opening and fired again.
* * *
• • •
AS JOE distracted Ushi-Oni, Kurt rushed to the far side of the building. A brief glimpse outside told him the army of six-legged robots were surrounding the place and crawling inside.
He saw at least a dozen. There would be no slow, methodical search this time. Just a swarming attack.
“Time is not on our side,” Kurt whispered. “Time for desperate measures.”
Climbing out through a window, Kurt made it to a ledge on the side of the building. Inching along the ledge, he came to the rusted fire escape that he and Joe had declined to use on the way down.
He could hear Joe shouting at Ushi-Oni.
“If the robots fill us full of lead, that will be hard to explain to the coroner,” Joe shouted.
“We’ll just dump your bodies in the channel and let the sharks have you,” Oni replied. “The police can look for you forever. It makes no difference to me.”
Kurt reached out for the fire escape and grabbed the railing. The structure swayed as he hooked one leg over the railing. He waited for Joe to snap off another round.
With the gunshot echoing, Kurt pulled himself onto the fire escape and did his best to steady it. The metal stairs creaked and groaned, but they didn’t collapse.
He went up. Moving with deliberate care. One arm, one foot, the next arm and the next foot. He carried only the sword.
As he got near the top, the stairs began to pull away from the wall. The upper anchors were completely loose, just resting in small holes of eroded concrete. Only a length of wire, wound in a figure eight from the railing to the wall, kept the whole stairway from breaking away.
“Definitely not up to code,” he whispered, reaching past the railing and grabbing the wall. Finding a handhold, he eased the fire escape toward the building until it made contact with the wall.
Out on the roof, the taunting continued.
“You might want to save that ammunition. The crawlers will be here soon.”
Joe’s reply was to fire off several additional shots, perfectly spaced to give Kurt the time he needed.
Kurt leapt over the wall and onto the roof. He raced forward with the Honjo Masamune in his hands, closing on Oni and Gao as they took cover.
Gao saw him first. “Look out!”
Oni spun, raising his pistol to fire, but Kurt slashed down with the samurai’s weapon and knocked the gun from Oni’s hand, taking part of the assassin’s thumb with it. Payback, in some sense, for what Oni had done to Nagano.
The pistol clattered to the roof and discharged in a random direction. Oni spat contempt and spun away.
Kurt had to change focus and deal with Gao, who was diving for the gun. He intercepted Gao with a kick to the jaw and then sent the pistol sliding across the roof with a flick of the sword.
Now Oni came back at him, swinging the Crimson Blade in a wide arc. Kurt deflected it and then dodged Oni’s second attack, stepping deftly to the side. But even with blood pouring from his wounded thumb, Oni pressed forward, fueled by rage.
Kurt counterattacked, slashing at Oni’s head, but the assassin’s training kicked in and he pulled back and responded with a riposte, one that almost twisted the sword from Kurt
’s hand.
Kurt clutched the Honjo Masamune and wrenched it free with brute strength. But before he could do any more, he was attacked once again.
“You’re an amateur,” Oni chided. “I’ll slice you limb from limb.”
“You couldn’t do it before and all I had was a wrench,” Kurt said.
Oni charged again, slashing and taunting Kurt simultaneously. “This blade has waited two hundred years to taste blood again. Tonight, it will drink deeply.”
Kurt was too busy defending himself to offer a witty reply. He parried to thrusts and attempted a counter by dropping one hand to the floor and lunging low and fast, a move known as a passata-sotto.
Oni hopped back out of the way and then came forward again. The attack became manic. Sparks flew each time the swords came together. Blood from Oni’s missing thumb tip soaked the hilt of his weapon and dripped along the blade.
Kurt was hard-pressed and with each flurry he was forced backward toward the edge of the roof. At the same time, he saw Gao crawling toward the fallen pistol.
“Joe!” he shouted. “A little help!”
Joe was already out on the roof. He charged toward Gao and tackled him. As they wrestled for the pistol, Oni attacked once again.
First, it was a lunge. Kurt dodged it.
Next came a feint that unbalanced Kurt. He slipped on the wet roof and he fell to one knee.
Now Oni went for his head, gripping the Crimson Blade with both hands and bringing it downward in an executioner’s chop that would slice Kurt in two.
Kurt raised the Masamune and blocked the downward strike, but he was left in a defenseless position.
With no chance to stand, Kurt lunged forward and drove his shoulder into Oni’s thighs. He wrapped his free arm around the man’s legs and with a mighty heave lifted up and arched himself backward, releasing Oni as he fell.
Oni flew helplessly over the wall, landed on the fire escape and clung desperately to the rusted metal steps. The staircase swayed back and then jerked to a stop as the jerry-rigged wire pulled taut.
Kurt stepped to the wall. Oni stared up at him, a strange expression affixed to his face. The Crimson Blade of Muramasa fell from Oni’s hand and dropped down between the rungs. It clanked between the steps, then vanished into the dark.
Ushi-Oni clutched at his midsection. His hands came away, soaked with his own blood. The blade had gouged him when he landed on the stairway. It had cut him deep but not fatally.
Kurt didn’t wait for him to recover or pull another weapon. With a downward slash of the Honjo Masamune, he cut the retaining wire in half and then shoved the reeling stairway with his foot.
It peeled away from the building, bending and groaning as it collapsed into the alleyway ten stories below.
55
“MY ROBOTS will finish you,” Gao muttered. Joe held him down, but that didn’t stop him from talking. “You can hear them coming. Stay here and they’ll destroy you. Run and they’ll hunt you without mercy.”
Kurt grabbed the identifier that hung around Gao’s neck and yanked it free, snapping the lanyard. “I’d be more concerned with what happens when they find you, Mr. Gao.”
“What is that?” Nagano asked.
“A transmitter that tells the robots who to shoot and who to ignore,” Kurt said. “I saw one of these in Han’s factory. Turns out that visit was highly educational.”
Gao squirmed and strained against the hold Joe had put him in. “That’ll only protect one of you.”
“More importantly, it won’t protect you,” Kurt said. He turned to Joe. “Let him up.”
Joe released Gao, who stood and made a desperate grab for the electronic device in Kurt’s hand.
Kurt pulled back out of reach and held the point of the sword forward. It kept Gao at bay. “There’s a stairway in the north corner of the building. If you run, you might make it. You might even bypass your own machines and get back to your underground lair. But I wouldn’t wait around if I was you. Like you said, they’re coming.”
Gao looked at Kurt with hatred, but not for very long. He took off running, heading for the north corner of the building.
“Nice of you to give him a sporting chance,” Joe said.
“He has no chance,” Kurt replied. “And we could use a little distraction. Let’s get the wing to the front edge of the building. We’re going to have to drop in pretty hard to get enough speed.”
Working together, they shoved the wing across the rooftop and set in on the wall at the front of the building. They helped Nagano up onto the wing. He dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms through the nylon straps used to carry the wing.
Kurt and Joe took their positions and raised the chute until it caught the wind and rose up behind them.
The sound of gunfire rang out several floors below. One staccato burst, followed by a shout. Two more bursts echoed and then silence.
“So much for our distraction,” Kurt said. “Let’s get out of here.”
“We have to shimmy this thing forward,” Joe said. “Like a snowboarder starting his run.”
Kurt hung the identifier on Joe. “You’re the pilot. If the robots see us, it’s best you don’t get shot.”
With the chute billowing in the breeze, they shifted their weight forward and the wing slid off the edge. They accelerated down and away from the building, dropping and picking up speed like an eagle diving from a cliffside nest.
The wing and parasail generated instant lift while the weight of the three men provided momentum, which translated into forward speed.
They soared down the front side of the island across the open area, where the helicopter had touched down. Flying low and fast, they raced across the boundary of the seawall and out over the waves.
If a single gunshot came their way, none of them heard it.
Flying clear, they turned their speed back into altitude, but like any glider not caught in an updraft, that was eventually a losing proposition. Gaining altitude cost them speed and the next drop took them lower.
“We’re sinking fast,” Kurt noted.
“Not much we can do about that,” Joe said.
“Let’s hope Akiko sees us.”
Riding with the wind, they were carried across the channel at a rapid clip. But soon they were skimming the waves and pulling back on the chute to gain a few seconds of extra airtime.
“Prepare to ditch,” Joe said.
The wing skimmed one swell and then clipped the next, stopping instantaneously. Kurt, Joe and Nagano were thrown forward into the swells. Kurt went under, tasted the saltwater on his lips and came up in time to see the chute settling into the waves.
Joe popped up from under the chute, clearing the lines and swimming away. Nagano was treading water next to him.
Since the hollow wing floated, the three of them grasped its edges.
“See anything?” Kurt asked.
“No, but I hear something,” Joe said.
A second later, Kurt heard it, too. A motorboat racing their way. It came out of the darkness, detectable only by the white bow wave, until the lights came on at the last second.
Akiko leaned over as she pulled alongside. “About time you came back,” she said. “A girl could drown out here, waiting in the rain.”
Kurt helped Nagano into the boat; Joe climbed in behind them. Before they could move, fiberglass began exploding around them as rifle shots from the island came their way.
Dropping flat onto the floor of the boat, Kurt shouted to Akiko, “Kill the lights! Get us out of here!”
She reached up, gunned the throttle and turned the wheel. The boat spun and leapt forward, but the onslaught continued.
Kurt felt a bullet scrape his arm. He watched the windshield shatter and the marine radio explode as a shell hit it dead center. The transom and the back end of the boat took a d
ozen hits or more before they finally drove out of range.
Akiko kept the throttle open.
“Everyone okay?” Kurt asked.
Nagano nodded. Joe was bleeding from a flesh wound on his thigh but was otherwise unhurt. Akiko picked fiberglass shards out of her hair.
The boat continued on, putting distance between them, the warbots and the gunmen on the island, but smoke was pouring from the motor housing. They made it a mile or so before flames erupted from beneath the cowling.
“Shut it down,” Joe called out, grabbing a fire extinguisher.
Akiko pulled the throttle back to zero and the boat began coasting. It continued to slow until its momentum was used up.
Joe lifted the engine cowling and doused the flames with a fire extinguisher. One look told him they were stuck. “That’s not fixable.”
“Now what?” Akiko said.
Kurt turned toward the mainland. The sky was beginning to lighten over Nagasaki. Dawn was almost upon them.
“You two stay here,” he said to Akiko and Nagano. “Wave down any passing ship you see. Joe and I are going to swim for it.”
“It’s a full mile to shore,” Akiko said.
“At least,” Kurt said. “Let’s hope the tide is with us.”
56
SHANGHAI
IT WAS still dark as Paul and Gamay walked across the vacant plaza of the People’s Square in central Shanghai.
“This was once a racetrack for horses,” Mel told them. “But the Communist Party didn’t like gambling, so they put an end to that and made it a park.”
“How appropriate,” Paul said, “considering we’re about to bet our freedom on a long shot.”
They continued across the park and approached a government building. It was unofficially known as the Oyster because the lower levels were hidden from view by a graceful curve of concrete and glass, which one had to pass under before approaching the front doors.
There was no hesitation. All the important decisions had been made. All that remained was to see how things played out. They arrived at the door, waiting patiently as Mel used her credentials to placate the guard outside the building.