By the Sword

    Ansari and Stayer—he didn't know who was who—looked up at him.

    "Who wants to know?"

    "The guys downstairs said I should come up and help you. What needs to be done?"

    "Well, your timing's fucking great," one of them said. "We're just about through."

    Jack decided to go for the gold.

    "Where's the girl?"

    This earned him instant suspicion.

    "What girl?" the other one said.

    Jack was flowing toward a kneecapping mood. The Glock was a growing itch against the small of his back.

    "The one whose picture I've been hanging all over town for weeks. Word is they found her. They got her here?"

    "If you know so much, you should know the slants took her when they grabbed the boss's sword."

    Jack didn't try to hide his shock. "They took her too?"

    "Yep."

    "What the hell for?"

    The first one shrugged. "That's the million-dollar question. All we know is that Menck and Darryl was watching her down in the basement, now they've got broken heads and the girl's gone."

    Jack stared at them for a few heartbeats as his mind reeled, then he spun and ran back down the hall.

    "Hey, where you goin?" said a voice behind him. "I thought you was go

    In your dreams.

    He pounded down the stairs.

    What the hell? He hadn't seen this coming. The Kakureta Kao had taken Dawn? Why-why-why?

    And it didn't sound like a spur-of-the-moment thing, as in taking a hostage for insurance. The sword had been on the second floor, and Dawn in the basement. Taking her couldn't have been happenstance.

    Goddamn. He'd thought he was drawing the Kickers away from her when all the time he was sending them to her instead.

    He blew through the foyer and out to the street. He needed a cab. He was turning toward Allen Street when he heard a toot. He looked and saw a green Land Rover double-parked in front of the Lodge. A bearded, older man stood beside it.

    Veilleur waved. "Need a ride?"

    Jack fairly leaped toward him. "How the—?"

    "A woman with a dog told me you might need some company." He opened the driver's door. "I suggest you drive."

    "The Ladies… you know them too?"

    A nod. "Very well."

    Jack jumped in and started the car. As soon as Glaeken was settled in the passenger seat Jack gu

    "But how did she know?" Jack said.

    The old man shrugged. "She doesn't know everything that goes on, but she knows quite a bit."

    "Who are they?"

    "You really don't know?"

    "Would I be asking if I did?"

    A pause, then, "Perhaps she doesn't think you're ready to know. I think you're more than ready, but the decision is hers."

    "Come on. A hint at least."

    He shook his head, then said, "All right. You keep saying 'They.' There's only one."

    That shocked him. "But I've seen—"

    "Only one, but she comes in many shapes and sizes." He waved his hand. "Forget the Lady for now. Let's plan what we'll do when we reach our destination."

    Jack forced his thoughts back to Dawn, but they wouldn't leave the Lady entirely.

    "Did she at least say why this cult kidnapped Dawn?"

    "She's not sure. One thing we agree on is that her baby is important to all the wrong people."

    "What about the sword? Why do they want that?"

    "Apparently it was instrumental in fulfilling a prophecy that doomed them in the past. They think controlling it will protect their future." He looked at Jack. "It might be best for the world if the Kakureta Kao has no future."

    Their eyes locked for a second, then Jack turned back to driving.

    "That might already be in the works."

    He prayed Dawn wouldn't go down with them.

    Hank saw the building, saw the wall, saw the gate, saw the guard in his corny kung-fu getup. A big entrance opened in the center. He'd never been here before, but for some reason the place looked familiar.

    No matter. They'd arrived.

    His blood sang in his ears. He'd counted thirty-seven Kickers, including himself, in nine vehicles. How many of those Japs could be in there? Two dozen, tops. He couldn't see any reason why he wouldn't have Dawn and the sword back in fifteen minutes.

    The sooner the better. His head still throbbed and he felt like puking. He just wished he'd seen the guy who'd done this to him. All he remembered was a bright light in his eyes and then nothing. So if he couldn't make the guilty one pay, they'd all pay.

    He phoned ahead to Menck in the lead car—the one with the GPS.

    "Slow down until we can get one of the pickups in front, and then we'll run that fuckin gate. No talk, no dickin around. We're going in."

    He watched a battered old truck make its way to the front, then gun forward. The rest followed in its wake.

    The guard stepped out behind the chain-link barrier and waved them to stop. But instead of slowing, the pickup accelerated. The guard dove for cover as the truck hit the barrier dead center, sending the double gates flying back on their hinges.

    And then they were all barreling through, one after another, pulling up before the entrance and piling out. No flood or security lights on the outside, and hardly any light inside. Headlights provided all the illumination. As they were milling around, getting organized, the guard from the gate came ru

    This was going to be easy.

    "Everybody inside!" Hank shouted, waving his crowbar in the air. "Trash the place and everybody in it!"

    The Kickers roared and charged the entrance. The big glass doors weren't even locked. Again that sense that he'd seen this place before.

    Hank hung back. Menck and Darryl, each carrying two-by-fours, did the same. Their heads must have felt like his.

    Much as he'd have liked to, he couldn't wait out here through the whole melee. Had to be among them, pretending to lead them. So when half their number had pressed through the entrance, he checked the reassuring bulk of the.38 in his front pocket, then started forward, motioning Darryl and Menck along.

    "Come on. Time for some payback."

    They flowed into a big center hallway that ran the length of the building. Opposite them, faintly visible in the dim light, a wide set of stairs ran up to the second floor.

    Now he knew why the place looked familiar: just like his old high school. Man, he'd hated that place.

    But where were the lights? The only illumination came from some sort of oil lamps strung along the center of the ceiling. He found a bank of light switches and started flipping them.

    Nothing. The place didn't seem to have electricity. Why wouldn't—?

    A Kicker cried out and clutched his face. Hank gasped as he saw something round and pointy jutting from his eye—a throwing star. Another sliced into his throat.

    And then came a hail of the things. Hank dropped to his knees as the stars pierced heads and shoulders and raised hands.

    The rain stopped, replaced by shrill cries echoing from both sides as black-clad figures charged out of the dark. Sword blades gleamed in the lamplight.

    Their blood up now, the Kickers charged right into them. Some fell victim to the swords but their overwhelming numbers inundated the attackers and crushed them.