The Brazen Shark

by David Lee Summers

  “Couldn’t you have picked a more focused person?”

  Someone shushed.

  Ramon remembered, he actually knelt in a Shinto temple on Tokyo’s outskirts, even though he “saw” a courthouse in Las Cruces, New Mexico.

  “We stay with those already familiar with us,” explained Legion. “To do more would be to interfere more.”

  “I understand.” Ramon thought the words instead of speaking them aloud.

  “Mr. McCarty, Mr. Duncan please rise,” said the judge. They did and Fountain stood alongside them. “The jury has found you not guilty of aiding and abetting enemies of the United States of America.”

  Billy let out a loud whoop and Luther shook Fountain’s hand.

  The judge banged his gavel to restore order to the proceedings. “You gentlemen did, however, escape lawful confinement from the Presidio and the jury has found you guilty of that offense. I sentence you to thirty days at the territorial prison in Santa Fe.”

  Luther deflated and fell back into his chair. Billy dropped beside him and patted him on the back. Ramon caught words to the effect, “That ain’t so bad. It’ll be over in no time.”

  Maravilla’s attention drifted back to his drawing and the view faded. The courtroom voices merged into Fatemeh’s. “Ramon, are you okay?”

  Ramon blinked and realized he lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m fine,” he breathed as Fatemeh helped him sit up. “Legion just gave me a look at Luther and Billy’s trial.”

  She indicated the others present, then helped him stand. The two walked outside the prayer hall and he led her into the woods where they could speak privately. “What happened?”

  “Not guilty of treason,” said Ramon, “but they have to serve thirty days for escaping the Presidio.” Looking at Fatemeh, Ramon sighed. He didn’t want to spend thirty days separated from her just as their life began to settle down.

  She reached out and took his hand. “It’s a good outcome … far better than we expected.”

  Ramon nodded. If Billy and Luther had been found guilty, they could have been executed. To live, Ramon and Fatemeh would have needed to seek permanent exile. Ramon wasn’t sure he could have lived with the guilt.

  “One thing’s for certain. I did encounter spirits in this shrine.” Ramon pulled Fatemeh close and held her until he stopped trembling.

  Chapter Twelve

  Shifting Tides

  Shinriki sat in the cell’s perpetual twilight chanting an old song. The song held no particular meaning. It just filled the inactive void which came from days on end doing nothing. He knew he had committed no crime, but he had heard stories of Russians seeing crimes where none existed and punishing those people they believed had committed them.

  An outside doorway creaked open and heavy boots marched down the hall. It seemed early for supper, but late for a trial. Perhaps the guard marched another prisoner to an adjoining cell. He shuddered at the possibility that a prisoner might be placed in the cell with him. Although he would appreciate the company, he couldn’t help but think such a person might be a real criminal.

  Keys rattled and Shinriki looked up. The guard wrenched the door open and tossed in a pouch. Shinriki hesitated, then stepped off the bed and approached the bundle. It contained the few things the guards had taken from him when they first threw him in the cell—his knife, his necklace, his coin pouch.

  “You’re free to go,” called the guard. “The magistrate doesn’t believe you could have stolen the horses and the time you’ve served is sufficient for disturbing the peace.”

  Shinriki blinked. “What if the samurai bandits return?”

  The guard laughed, but it contained no malice. Rather it was the laugh of a parent confronted with a child’s musing. “Then deal with them.” The guard’s expression turned cold. “If you value your freedom, don’t come back to Poronaysk.”

  Shinriki sighed and gathered his belongings. The guard escorted him outside, then turned and locked the outer door before he marched back toward his office. The cold wind made Shinriki shudder. He looked up at the orange-streaked cirrus clouds above and thought perhaps another storm would be approaching within two or three days. Returning to his hut where he could build a fire would be good, but it would be just as lonely as the cell.

  He trudged through town, back to the river. Late as it was, the fishermen had returned to the village leaving him with no easy passage across. Some Russian boats stood on the river banks. He could just take one and return it with help in the morning. He worried the Russians might use such a temporary theft as an excuse to throw him back in the cell.

  He considered seeing if one of the Poronaysk Ainu would help him. Shinriki had two cousins who worked in the factories. Perhaps they could put him up for the night. As he contemplated the possibilities, he caught a distant thrumming sound. He looked up. The first stars twinkled through gossamer clouds in a darkening sky. Among them, a dark form drifted toward the samurai’s highland camp. It was the airship! Was Ipokash aboard? He knew deep down in his bones she must be. Would anyone help him seek her? He doubted that.

  At last, Shinriki reached a decision. He pushed a Russian boat into the water, climbed in, and rowed across. He would find no help in Poronaysk.

  * * *

  Japan spread out like an inviting green and brown blanket atop still waters. The reddening sun sat on the horizon, streaking the sky orange and white. Lights winked on around Tokyo. All around the Bashō’s bridge, the crew kept watch. Captain Sanada called out slight course corrections to the helmsman.

  As they drifted over Tokyo Bay, Onofre Cisneros sighted the Ballena and his heart beat double-time. Accompanying this ship had been a privilege and a thrill, but he missed his own ship and was glad to see it safe and sound.

  He turned his attention back to the city. The sun dropped below the horizon in a twinkling and the city lights began to swirl. Dizzy, Cisneros excused himself and returned to his cabin. He sat down and closed his eyes. A scene of forest and low hills played before him.

  “Mendeleev knows where he is.” Legion’s voice echoed within his mind.

  “Can you show me?” whispered the captain.

  Legion showed the captain an image of the Earth. They zoomed in to an island just north of Japan. A small, industrial town perched near the point where a river emptied into a large bay. Legion expanded the view to show an inland mountain range, near the town. An orange dot blinked on and off, like some obscene demonic eye.

  “The location is approximate, but Mendeleev said the airship flew over these mountains on the way to Poronaysk. The airship is moored at a clearing near a lodge. Imagawa is angry because she expected to find horses and a supply cache. The supplies were there, but the horses are gone.”

  “Bandits must have taken the horses.” Cisneros folded his arms. “Do you know how long they plan to stay?”

  “Unknown,” said Legion. “Mendeleev thinks Imagawa planned to take the horses and leave the airship behind. Her plans require adjustment now that they must travel by foot.”

  “Thank you, Legion. I think speed will be essential.” The captain considered the necessary steps to reach Sakhalin Island. “Contact Ramon. Tell him to pack and meet us aboard the Ballena. Ask him to relay a message to my first mate to ready the ship for immediate departure.”

  “What do you hope to accomplish?”

  “I hope to find a way to prevent Imagawa from causing more damage.” Cisneros sat on the floor until his vision cleared. A slow, sinking sensation told him the airship dropped toward a mooring. The captain walked across the hall and knocked on Hoshi’s door.

  The samurai looked out. “Will we land soon?”

  “Almost.” Cisneros leaned in close. “Be ready to leave as soon as possible, Legion has just determined Imagawa’s location.”

  Hoshi gave a curt nod. “I’m already packed.”

  Cisneros returned to the bridge. The palace grounds lay below. The hangar roof opened and bright lights illuminated the in
terior. Captain Sanada ordered the engines shut down and an eerie silence ensued. The ship took on air and descended. Sanada called for mooring ropes to be lowered. Soon the ground crew in the hangar leapt for the ropes and pulled. Cisneros held on to stabilize himself against the ride’s sudden jerkiness.

  As the airship neared the hangar floor, Japanese naval officers approached. The gondola door opened and the ladder dropped out even as the ground crews tied off the ropes.

  An officer wearing gold epaulets and a sash strode forward. As he climbed aboard the airship, the boatswain snapped to attention and piped him aboard. Cisneros smirked at how the Japanese Navy had adopted this western custom.

  “Lord Katsu,” said the admiral. “We’ve been anxiously awaiting your return. May I have a word?”

  Katsu Kaishū nodded and stepped close to the admiral. The two spoke in low tones. While they did, Cisneros slipped back to his cabin and threw his belongings into a duffel bag. When he returned to the bridge, the admiral had departed and Katsu wore a worried frown. “There you are,” he said. “I fear I must depart right away. A … situation has arisen.”

  Cisneros had to remind himself the Naval Lord could not know about the attack on Sapporo and Wakkanai or that Ramon and Fatemeh had already discussed matters with the Lord of Home Affairs. It would take too long to explain all that, not to mention explaining why he hid his knowledge during the flight.

  Cisneros reached out and shook Katsu’s hand. “I must depart as well. Work has piled up in Ensenada during my absence. The sooner I return, the sooner I can make progress on a hangar and the designs we discussed.”

  “Then you’re interested in continuing to work with us?”

  “I wouldn’t miss the opportunity.” Cisneros spoke without irony but hoped he didn’t seem too anxious to depart. Now that things proceeded so well, he had no desire to let Imagawa start a war. He had to capture her and bring her back to Japan for justice before her plans escalated further.

  “I am delighted to hear it,” said Katsu. “I look forward to working with you.”

  “Until we meet again.”

  Cisneros and Katsu each bowed. The Naval Lord climbed down the ladder and followed the officers from the hangar. Masuda Hoshi appeared at the control room door. Cisneros gave him a brief nod, then turned to the captain. “Sir, I must take my leave. Thank you for allowing me to accompany you on this first Japanese trans-Pacific airship voyage.”

  “It was our honor,” said Sanada. The two captains exchanged bows.

  Cisneros excused himself long enough to retrieve his duffle bag, then he followed Hoshi down the ladder. Once outside, they paused to let their eyes adjust to the dark night, relieved by just a few gas lamps. This late, finding transportation to the docks seemed hopeless. The two shouldered their bags and began to walk.

  “Yesterday, when Legion showed me the end of McCarty and Duncan’s trial, Maravilla sketched a machine. Normally he builds machines to study animal behavior but this one looked like no animal I recognized.”

  Hoshi groaned. “I’ll be ruined for sure.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “With Billy in prison for thirty days, there’s no one to look after my crops. Maravilla has clearly decided to be helpful and build a mechanical harvester. It no doubt subsists on chiles.”

  “I could always ask Legion to watch over him, make sure the machine works as it’s supposed to.”

  Hoshi considered for a moment, then shook his head. “No thanks. I’ll have enough losses if Maravilla is involved. I can’t imagine the mess we’ll create if we let that devil get involved as well.”

  * * *

  “I suppose this means the honeymoon is over.” Ramon stood next to Fatemeh at the Ballena’s stern rail, watching Tokyo’s lights recede behind them.

  “The honeymoon doesn’t have to end.” She reached out, took his hand, and brought him close. “We just have to enjoy what we’re doing.”

  He embraced her and they shared a long, kiss. Ramon moved to her cheek, then kissed her neck when he noticed a presence in the deckhouse’s shadows. Ramon glanced up. “May I help you?”

  A Japanese man emerged from the shadows, holding up a hand. “I apologize. I did not mean to intrude. I was out for a stroll and saw you. I wanted to speak, then realized you were… otherwise engaged. I was about to leave.”

  “No, no.” Fatemeh held up her hand. “It’s okay. You’re Mr. Masuda, correct?”

  The man bowed. Ramon and Fatemeh returned the gesture.

  “We’ve wanted to speak to you as well,” said Ramon. “We should find Captain Cisneros and see if he’s available.”

  The three exchanged glances, then entered the deckhouse and descended a level. They knocked on the captain’s door. The steward answered. “It’s all right,” called the captain from within. “We need to make plans.”

  The steward stepped aside and Cisneros invited them to join him at the table. “Bring us coffee,” ordered the captain.

  “If it’s all the same to you, I would prefer tea,” said Hoshi.

  Cisneros nodded to the steward, who disappeared. “I don’t know about you two, but I’ve missed chairs.”

  Ramon and Fatemeh smiled to one another. Hoshi folded his arms. “Chairs weaken the back,” he said. “They’re bad for a warrior.”

  “Well, I don’t intend to be a warrior.” Fatemeh leaned forward.

  “You are perhaps the best warrior here.” A faint smile appeared as Hoshi spoke. “You are, after all, a healer. What is a healer but a warrior against disease and injury?”

  Fatemeh nodded, accepting the definition.

  Hoshi continued. “Japan has been healing itself after a civil war. Unlike the one in the United States, a new order took over. The difference is the old order, the Tokagawa regime, resembled your confederates with power distributed among separate houses. The new order, the Meiji regime, is more like the Union, with power consolidated in the emperor. Imagawa is perhaps like a Confederate general in that she is disappointed in the loss and cannot accept the outcome. She sees the new order as disease and wants to correct it by forcing the Meiji army into a conflict they cannot win.”

  Cisneros leaned forward. “We know that. The problem is, how do we stop her?”

  A knock sounded, heralding the steward’s return. He set a tray down on the table with both a teapot and a coffee carafe. Assorted empanadas—Mexican fruit pastries—also covered the tray.

  Ramon took a pastry. “What happens if we prove to the Russians Imagawa has taken the airship?”

  Hoshi shook his head. “Russians would see a Japanese force on Karafuto Island as an incursion. It would start the very war Imagawa desires.” He poured a cup of tea. “I fear the Russians may not distinguish between rebels or the army stealing their airship. The result may well be the same.”

  “I see no choice but to capture the airship,” said Cisneros.

  “I don’t think the answer lies in force.” Fatemeh stood, poured a cup of coffee, and handed it to Captain Cisneros. “With all due respect, I don’t think you have the manpower aboard this ship to fight the samurai.” She poured coffee for Ramon.

  Ramon took the cup and sipped. “We could get a message to Dmitri Mendeleev through Legion. Maybe he could invent an emergency which would force the samurai to leave the ship, like a hydrogen leak or something.”

  Cisneros considered that. “Yes, it doesn’t take a large force to fly the ship.”

  “I fear Imagawa would not be deceived and take steps to prevent the capture, unless…” Hoshi set the teacup down and stared off into the distance.

  “Unless?” pressed Fatemeh.

  “She would fight me if I challenged her to a duel. It might blind her long enough for the ruse to be effective.”

  Fatemeh opened her mouth to protest, but Ramon placed a gentle hand on her forearm. “Would you prevail in such a fight?” he asked.

  Hoshi took a deep breath and released it. “I don’t know.”

  Fatemeh pushed Ra
mon’s hand aside. “You wouldn’t kill Imagawa, would you?”

  “Only if I had no choice.” Hoshi looked down at the table, as though afraid to meet Fatemeh’s eyes.

  Ramon suspected the emotion wasn’t fear, but something closer to regret. Either way, they needed to focus on the mission. “Okay, then, how do we get there? If we don’t want to attract the Russians’ attention, we can’t just sail up to Poronaysk in the Ballena.”

  Cisneros stood and walked over to his desk. He opened the drawer, retrieved a map and laid it out on the table. He pointed. “We’re sailing east now. At midnight, I intend to order a course change north by northwest. It’ll take about two days to reach Poronaysk at Ballena’s top speed. We can take the Calamar into the bay. Depending on how deep it is, perhaps we can go a ways up the Poronay River.”

  “How many people will fit in this Calamar?” Hoshi leaned forward and studied the map.

  “Six.” Cisneros leaned back and folded his arms.

  “Six? How do we manage this with six people?” Ramon’s brow furrowed.

  Hoshi nodded. “If I distract Imagawa, that leaves five to pilot the airship, some of whom will need to release the mooring lines.”

  “It only leaves four crewmen to help pilot the airship,” corrected Cisneros. “One will stay with the Calamar. I won’t leave it behind, and it could come in handy to have someone meet the airship somewhere.” He tapped his forehead. “It’s not hopeless, though. There are three experienced Russians aboard the ship and the Ainu woman who translates. If those who release the mooring lines can get aboard, Mendeleev will have eight people. I hope that will be enough to lift the ship. If not, the person who stays with the Calamar can bring reinforcements.”

  “I don’t like this plan,” said Ramon. “Too much can go wrong.”

  “Too much has already gone wrong,” said Fatemeh. “I just hope we can make it better.”

  “If we’re agreed, I’ll make arrangements,” said the captain.

  The group around the table exchanged glances, then after a moment, they all nodded.