Linnear 02 - The Miko (83 page)

Up the Sakuradori, she found the Toranomon station of the Ginza Line. Down into the ground she went, paying her fare, riding one stop to Shimbashi, where she transferred to the J.N.R. Line to Hamamatsu-cho.

There she emerged in the midst of hundreds of other people, mostly tourists, to wait for the monorail to Haneda Airport and a flight to Hokkaido. Now she took time out to wait on line for a phone booth where, when it was her turn, she used a special code to alert Russilov that she was on the run.

“Parachute,” she said when the line opened.

It was that time of day in Tokyo, after the noon lunch stampede and before the evening rush hour, when traffic is variable. It can be good or bad according to the whim of the gods.

Nicholas decided to take a calculated risk and grab a cab to Hamamatsu-cho. It was a mistake. Sakuradori was jammed, and none of the alternate routes were any better. Near the Onarimon station, he had had enough and, dropping yen like flower petals onto the driver’s lap, jumped out, Croaker just behind him.

Onarimon had been on their way along the city streets but now, underground, they found themselves having to change trains twice, once at Mita for the Toei Asakusa Line to Shimbashi, thence to the J.N.R., following Tanya’s route to Hamamatsu-cho.

When they came up into the pointillist sunshine they were faced with a massive crowd that flowed down the two staircases on the departing side of the monorail station. A riot of color, voices, jostling bodies. A sea of faces; the rhythm of the heat.

“She could be anywhere here,” Croaker said. “Or she could be twenty miles away.”

“Stop being so optimistic,” Nicholas said dryly, “and go down to the far staircase. In three minutes precisely, we’ll both start up, me here, you there. We’ll get her someplace in between.”

Croaker got serious. “You really are sure she’s here, aren’t you?”

“You don’t know Tokyo, Lew,” he said. “She’s got to get to Hokkaido as quickly as possible. Haneda Airport’s her only means of doing it. This is her best shot for it.”

“But there’re always a busload of ways out of any major city. What makes you so sure it’ll be this one?”

Nicholas could not say really, because it was an intangible. He conjured up Tanya’s face at the moment he had told her that he had broken Tenchi. That surprise now had added meaning for him. He knew that she had not been prepared for flight. Whatever her plan had been when she had run into him at the Okura, it changed immediately he told her about Tenchi.

“Lew,” he said earnestly, “she’s going home. To Russia. She’s running on instinct, and instinct dictates taking the most direct route as well as the fastest. It’s a hunch, but an accurate one, I think.”

“Okay, buddy,” Croaker said with a brief grin. “I’ve had some experience with your hunches before. See you in the middle up there.”

It was hot and getting hotter. So much so that Tanya had begun to sweat. Something was wrong on the monorail line. The unthinkable had occurred: a form of Japanese transportation had broken down.

Moments ago, as she glanced at her watch, she had begun to regret not shooting Nicholas Linnear where he stood in front of his bathroom mirror. But she knew quite well why she had hesitated and then decided against it. She was afraid of him; afraid that she would try it and he would somehow ferret out her intent, and stop her from bringing the secret of Tenchi to the summit. She consoled herself with the fact that the meeting was paramount and could not be jeopardized for anything.

She had stayed her hand and was sorry that she had not taken the risk. For she had bolted and was now vulnerable to pursuit. The thought of Nicholas Linnear as hunter filled her with dread.

That was why at the precise instant she saw him moving up the stairs at the near end of the platform she turned away and

began to fight her way through the densely packed throng toward the platform’s far end.

She had been scanning the bobbing crowd at fifteen-second intervals as she had been taught at Protorov’s academy, using reflective surfaces when she could to do much of her work for her.

Her heart turned icy when she saw him rising onto the level of the platform itself. He seemed to slip through the jostling, sweating mob with the greatest of ease. Unlike her, who had to battle for every inch. She felt as if she were in quicksand, her legs frantically pumping but not seeing much result from all that furious effort. Quicksand or a dream.

But it was neither, Tanya knew quite well. So discreetly she drew out her modified Beretta, a flat, powerful weapon for close range.

She was looking over her shoulder as she had seen Russilov do. She had laughed silently at him for it but she found nothing amusing in the gesture now.

And so intent was she on fleeing from her personal hunter that she paid little attention to what was in front of her. To her those people were a quagmire through which she must force herself. They had ceased to be individuals but rather were a part of a maddeningly delaying whole. She wanted to kill them all, spill them pellmell onto the gleaming track that arced away toward Fuji-yama, blued in the industrial haze, and the safety of a plane at Haneda.

Something hit hard against her chest and she pushed back, frantic now, seeing Nicholas gaining on her.

“Stay right where you are, Comrade.”

A rough New York accent. Her head spun around, the Beretta coming up automatically, her finger tightening on the trigger.

“Put it down,” Lewis Croaker said into her face. “There’s nothing you can do with it now. There’s no place left for you to go.”

She turned for one last look at her oncoming pursuer and felt the lurch of his open hand against her weapon. Instinctively she got off a shot and was preparing for another when a single black eye rose like a tower not six inches in front of her face and erupted with the noise of the death of the world.

Croaker got off the phone and said, “We’re to stay right here until Minck’s support crew does what it has to.” He eyed Nicholas. “The police have already been contacted. No one’s going to make a move against us.”

Nicholas said nothing. He was staring down at the covered corpse of Tanya Vladimova. Cops were already on the scene, separating the observers from the participants. Moments ago Nicholas had spoken briefly to a young sergeant in rapid Japanese. There were still a battery of formalities to go through.

But he was thinking of other matters. He was thinking again of what his father had said about taking life and eradicating evil from the world. That was the dilemma, he saw now. Why was it that to do the one you had to do the other? Wasn’t there any other way? Hadn’t there been with Tanya?

There had been no other way with Protorov, he knew; with Akiko as well. Karma. He knew that he had still not yet learned to accept life on its own terms. He felt too much for others. Or was it only that he was reluctant to relinquish that degree of control? It was a myth, anyway. Life could never be controlled. And yet he continued to try.

Perhaps it was time to end all that, he thought.

At the Shinjuku Suiryu Building, Nicholas saw Tanzan Nangi first, even though he had been told on his arrival that Justine was there, waiting for him. He did so because he wanted at least one major element in his life settled before he saw her again. He wanted his mind totally free so that he could concentrate fully on whatever it was she intended.

He had spent three hot and sticky hours scouring the city after he left Croaker, and now he carried with him a silk-covered package.

He was shown into Sato’s huge office without undue delay. They bowed.

“Linnear-san, please sit down.”

“If you don’t mind,” Nicholas said, “I’d prefer the next room.”

Nangi’s eyes opened wide and he hesitated a moment as if Nicholas’ request had disrupted a pattern set inside him. He nodded, recovering quickly. “Of course,” he murmured.

They walked through the narrow passageway housing the tokonoma, its slender vase holding one purple peony. Nicholas read the poem on the scroll just above: ‘Wo rainfalls/Without bringing life/To blossoms/On mountainside or vale.”

Nangi led him past the small alcove and into another, smaller room that was not an office at all. It was a space that Nicholas had not seen before but had known must be there.

Just before the threshold, the two of them removed their shoes. It was a twelve-tatamiroom. The walls were shoji screens, though undoubtedly they covered plaster and lathe. Cool light, indirect and dim, played over the expanse, and from somewhere came the silvery tinkle of water through a streambed.

There was a low lacquer table in the center of the room, several Chinese-red kansu chests along the wall, a cedar desk with phone. A hard cedar chair.

They knelt down on opposite sides of the gleaming black table. Nicholas looked away to admire the room as Nangi spent some time and considerable energy in getting his ruined legs to bend beneath him.

“I have come to report my failure, Nangi-san,” Nicholas said after a time.

Nangi was curious. “How so, Linnear-san?”

“While you were away, Sato and I struck a bargain. He wished the merger to go through with all good speed; I wished to aid himand you as wellagainst the Wu-Shing.”

“You and Seiichi-san felt that we both had something to fear from these heinous crimes, then?”

“Eventually, yes. We both felt that you and he were to be the final targets.”

“Had you any proof?”

“It was Sato-san’s belief that something in your past had triggered this vendetta.” When Nangi said nothing, Nicholas went on. “I swore to protect him, Nangi-san. It is why I went with him to the rotenburo in Hokkaido to find the ninja Phoenix. But Koten betrayed us to the Russians. They killed the ninja; and they killed Sato-san.” He went on to relate what had happened next at Protorov’s safe house. He said nothing of what had happened after his winged escape.

“Phoenix was from the Tenshin Shoden Katori.” Nangi’s voice was deliberately calm. “Was anything put into the Soviets’ hands?”

“For a moment they had it. But they had no one to translate the kanji cipher.”

“I see.” The relief flooding out of Nangi was palpable.

“I read the document, Nangi-san. I have penetrated to the core of Tenchi.”

There was no sound in the room now but that of the flowing water, unseen and constant.

Nangi’s eyes closed finally. He felt enormously tired, like a long-distance runner who had just expended his last ounce of gallant reserves to embrace the finish line only to be told that the course has been extended another mile.

His dark, avian eyes opened and in a voice like tissue paper he said, “And now that you have the leverage you need, what will you do with this information if I do not accede to your demands regarding the terms of the merger?”

“I have had a call from a man named C. Gordon Minck, Nangi-san. He is in the United States Government. I know him somewhat. I have run a certain errand for him… because it suited my purposes. Because I wished to save Tenchi.”

Nangi nodded. “Save it from the Russians. I understand. You are an American citizen. And now the American secret service establishment knows our deep secret. They can keep us under their thumb forever.”

“Nangi-san,” Nicholas said softly, “I told Minck that the Soviets had not penetrated Tenchi and neither had I. Sato-san once told me that he feared the Americans penetrating Tenchi almost as much as the Russians. I did not understand what he meant then, but I know now. America would not wish for Japan to become independent of it. I agree with him.”

For Nangi, Nicholas could not have uttered more startling words. “But this is impossible,” he said, for once flustered. “You are an American. You are”

“Iteki? Isn’t that how you’ve seen me from the first, Nangi-san? As a barbarian, a halfbreed.”

Nangi’s eyes lowered to the tabletop, but all he saw there was his own reflection. I hate this man, he thought, and I don’t know why. He has suffered for this keiretsu, has kept its secrets, has almost died for it. He is loyal beyond question. He tried to save Seiichi-san’s life. At the thought of his dead friend, a knife went through Nangi’s insides and he was shaken anew by his rage against this man. Yet he struggled with himself to understand.

“My spirit is Japanese,” Nicholas said softly. “You have only to feel my wa to know that. It was not so hard for Sato-san to accept me; to befriend me.”

“Sato-san possessed a number of bad habits,” Nangi snapped. Immediately, he bowed his head all the way to the lacquer. He was terribly ashamed. “Forgive me, Linnear-san.” His voice was a cracked whisper, filled with pain and self-loathing. “You deserve only my abject gratitude for what you have done to protect my keiretsu and preserve Tenchi.”

“I am truly sorry that you cannot give it.” Nicholas’ face was sad as he rose. “The pledge of merger was with Sato-san. I will not insist that you be bound by it.”

“Linnear-san.” Nangi’s back was rigid. “Please sit down.” And, when Nicholas made no move, “I beg of you. Do not add to the disgrace I have already heaped upon myself. If you walk out now, I can never regain face.”

Nicholas folded his legs beneath him. “I have no wish to disgrace you,” he said softly, remembering all Sato had told him of this man.

“Whatever accord you had with Seiichi-san you have with me. We are one and the same entity. 1 wish to honor his word.” He passed a hand across his eyes. “I was brought up with kanryodo. I hated foreigners as if they were a disease.”

“Someperhaps mostare like that,” Nicholas said.

Nangi looked at him curiously. “In truth, 1 think I never bothered to understand you. I saw what I wanted to see.” His eyes slid down again. “And I resented you your easy rapport with my friend.”

“He could love you no less for it. But that is obvious.” Nicholas raised his cup. “If you wish, we will light incense on Seiichi-san’s grave together.”

“Yes,” Nangi said, and he was no longer ashamed to drape his voice in sadness. His good eye was moist. He raised his glass. “To departed friends, missed and honored for all the days of our lives.”

They drank.

“Now what of the Wu-Shingl” Nangi asked.