By the Sword

    Hank nodded to Jantz. "You and the others take point, see if we're clear ahead. Darryl—you and Menck cover the rear."

    As Jantz and the rest moved off toward the staircase, Hank reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a pistol. He handed it to Darryl.

    "Know how to use this?"

    Darryl had done some hunting in his day, but with a rifle, never a pistol. Still, with all the shit that was going down here, he wasn't about to let a gun slip through his fingers.

    "You betcha."

    He took it. A snub-nose, six-shot revolver. He didn't know what caliber, and didn't care. All that mattered was that it fired when he pulled the trigger.

    Down the hall, flames were licking from one of the doorways, and the smoke was getting worse. Jantz and the rest were already at the stairs. Hank started after them with Dawn. Darryl and Menck followed Hank.

    "All we gotta do, man," he whispered to Menck, "is make it through the front door and we're home free."

    Menck had the sword on his shoulder like a rifle. "We ain't there yet, my man. Not until—"

    His words cut off in a gurgle. Darryl whipped around and saw Menck's mouth wide open and his arms spread like he was belting out the last note of a song. But the sword was flying through the air, his eyes were bulging, and it looked like he had a second mouth under his chin, wide open, and spitting blood.

    And behind him, a shadow in black, pulling a bloody knife away from Menck's throat.

    "Fuck!" Darryl shouted, raising the pistol and firing as Menck's knees gave way.

    The Jap's head jerked back in a spray of red and he went down.

    I hit him! Darryl thought. God damn, first time I ever shot a pistol and I hit the fucker!

    But Menck—poor Menck was a goner. Menck was gone.

    "What the fuck?" Hank had stopped and turned. He looked at Darryl, then Menck, then Darryl again. "Shit! Keep moving!"

    Leave Menck—just like that?

    "But—"

    "We can't help him. Cover me, Darryl." He looked around. "Hey, where's the sword?"

    He pointed toward the dim smoky hall behind them. "Back there somewhere. Want me to—?"

    "Leave it for now. We'll send somebody back. Just cover my ass till we get out of here."

    Darryl did just that, walking backward, gun swinging left and right, all the way to the stairway. They found Jantz waiting at the bottom with the two wounded and the rest.

    Hank said, "Jantz—the sword's still up there, in the hall. Take someone and go get it. Don't worry. Nothing moving up there. The rest of you come with me."

    As Jantz and another Kicker hurried upstairs, Darryl peeked up and down the hall, then longingly at the entrance directly across from them. Twenty feet of exposure and they were outta here.

    He thought he saw a flicker of movement in one of the doorways but it didn't repeat.

    He motioned to Hank and the others behind him. "All clear. Let's move!"

    Holding his breath, waiting for the silent bullet that would end everything, he scurried across the hall and into the entrance recess.

    Made it!

    The rest made it as well. He held the door for Hank and Dawn, then started for the cars. They all stopped when they saw the bodies. All the guys who had been wounded in the first attack were dead.

    "Shit!" Hank said. "Shot down like dogs."

    Darryl couldn't look. He made a beeline for the cars.

    "Find us some wheels and make tracks," Hank said behind him. "Jantz can follow."

    Don't have to tell me twice, Darryl thought.

    It must be on the second floor, Hideo thought. If it is here at all.

    No—no negative thinking. The caller had been correct about the Kakureta Kao, and he would be correct about the katana as well. They simply had to find it. Only a matter of time.

    He stood in the last room at the end of the first-floor hallway with Kenji and Ryo. They had run into no more opposition since Goro's death. Now it was time to move upstairs. Who knew what they would find there?

    He was stepping out into the hall when he caught a flash of movement by the main stairs. Monks or members of the rival cult, he could not say. He stepped back and motioned the yakuza to be still.

    And then he clearly heard someone say in English: "… the sword's still up there, in the hall. Take someone and go get it. Don't worry. Nothing moving up there. The rest of you come with me."

    His heart leaped. Still up there… The katana was almost within his grasp.

    He repressed the urge to lead a charge down the hall. Better to learn how many they were, and how well armed.

    He peeked again and saw a knot of them—some scurrying, some limping, one carrying a woman—cross the hall and disappear through the entrance.

    Take someone and go get it. Don't worry. Nothing moving up there. The rest of you come with me.

    Hideo could take that only one way: Deal with these two remaining members of the rival cult and the katana would be his.

    He stepped out into the hall and motioned the yakuza to follow. They passed a bloody chainsaw lying on the steps, and found the second floor full of smoke. To his left he heard a cough and a hoarse voice.

    "Where is the fucking thing? I can't see shit."

    He pointed the yakuza in the direction of the voice. They disappeared into the smoke. Hideo heard cries of surprise, a number of phuts, cries of pain, more phuts, then silence. When he arrived at the scene he found the yakuza standing over a pair of bodies.

    Now to find the katana. The smoke would make it more difficult, but they had time.

    "He said it was in the hall. Search the floor and—"

    He caught a hint of motion in the flickering light from a nearby doorway. He pointed the yakuza toward it and the three of them approached with caution. The man downstairs had said there was "nothing moving" up here, but he could have been wrong.

    They moved opposite the opening and peered in. Hideo blinked at the sight of a bearded old man holding the katana by its handle and calmly examining the blade. He waved it in the air, then glanced at them. Hideo flinched when he spoke in archaic-sounding Japanese.

    "Despite all it's been through, the balance is still excellent."

    The yakuza had their pistols pointed at him but didn't fire as they might have with anyone else. Hideo understood. Something about this man. Though old, he possessed a powerful-looking frame. But that wasn't it. He had a… presence that seemed to fill the room and pour out into the hallway.

    "Give me the katana," Hideo said, "and you shall live."

    He didn't know why he'd said that. A feeling he had… as if the world would be a poorer, darker place with this man's passing.

    "This? Masamune-san made it for me, but I don't think I want it."

    Wondering what he meant by that absurd statement, Hideo gestured the yakuza into the room and followed.

    "A wise choice. I am a man of my word. If you will hand me the sword, we will take our leave and—"

    Something hard jammed against his left ear and a voice said, "I'd like to have something to say about that."

    The yakuza whirled and reacted with shock. As they aimed their pistols the voice said, "Uh-uh-uh. Hair trigger. One twitch and his brains will Jackson Pollock the wall."

    Hideo knew Kenji's English was good enough for him to understand, but he didn't know about Ryo, so he translated.

    They turned as one and retrained their weapons on the old man who still held the katana poised before him.

    "Looks like we've got a John Woo situation here," the voice said.