Michael heard gunfire erupt from the house and his body disappeared as he headed toward the building.
—
Michael solidified just as Sabine’s shots slammed into the last attacker, grabbing what information he could before his mind was in too much pain for Michael to be able to read anything else.
He noticed that Sabine had felt where her adversary was and shot through the furniture, and he checked out the placement of the holes in the body. All of them were close together. He turned to where Sabine was still hiding. “Well done, warrior. Well done indeed,” he told her. His footsteps crunched on some broken glass spread around the floor.
“You can come out now. We have places to go.”
There was a scream and a thud as a body hit the ground somewhere near the back. Moments later, Akio came in through the back door and stepped up beside Michael, who was scratching his bald head.
“Next?” Akio asked.
Michael started walking toward the front door, the crunching continuing when a shot-up bookshelf finally crashed. “First,” he said, “I need a hat.”
“Then?” Sabine asked as Akio helped her get out of her little furniture fort.
“We go into the sewers,” Michael answered from outside.
“Sewers?” Sabine replied, disgust coloring her voice. “Couldn’t we just, I don’t know, go anywhere else?”
Akio had followed her as she headed for the door but stopped when he noticed an old military weapon on the bandolier of the man Sabine had shot in the chest. He reached down, turned it sideways to read it. Sabine turned to watch him take a round tab and yank it. He chunked it into the furniture fort.
“What was that?” she asked as Akio grabbed her and moved quickly out of the house.
“We have to go,” Akio told her as the two turned left and walked up the street following Michael. “That was an incendiary grenade.”
“Ohhhh,” Sabine responded, looking over her shoulder. “Which means?”
“It’s going up in flames,” Akio replied.
Sabine turned back and worked to keep up with the quickly walking men. “What is it with you boys and fire?”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Tokyo, Japan, Chinese Embassy
Using Eve’s intel, Yuko and Eve navigated purposefully through the embassy corridors toward the emperor’s office.
When they arrived, Yuko stopped suddenly. Eve looked at her.
Yuko mouthed, “There are three people in there.”
She touched her chest to indicate she was listening for heartbeats.
Eve nodded her understanding. Having controlled all the other security checks and personnel either by sending them messages to take them elsewhere or home for the day, it seemed that there had indeed been unforeseen events that kept Qin Shi from being alone.
Yuko took a breath. Her sword was stowed respectfully but was reachable on her back. She pushed the office’s double doors and they swung open against her weight.
There had been low voices talking, but on hearing the door open, the voices subsided. Yuko stepped into the large, ornately furnished office, followed closely by Eve.
“Good evening, gentlemen.” She addressed the three men sitting on sofas in the lounge area of the office.
All three turned in their seats to look at her. One stood up. “Good evening, young lady. I see my assistant wasn’t at her station to invite you to wait.” He looked from her to Eve and back again.
His face had changed from friendly to “not amused” in the fraction of a second it had taken for Yuko to disturb them.
“We have an appointment,” she told him. “Forgive me, but the matter is urgent.” She bowed to the three of them, lowering her eyes to allow their egos the opportunity to do the right thing.
The two men with the emperor looked to him for his lead on the situation. It seemed like one of the men was ready to rise and excuse himself. Yuko held the emperor’s gaze.
A moment passed before Emperor Qin Shi made his decision. “I’m busy. It will have to wait.”
Yuko bowed again. “I’m afraid it can’t. The reason your assistant wasn’t at her post to ask us to wait is that we’ve taken the precaution of removing all personnel from the building. The matter we have to discuss with you is of utmost importance, and your cooperation would be very much appreciated.”
The emperor looked confused, and then his expression turned to anger. “How dare you! I will be speaking with the Japanese Prime Minister about this. Who are you? I shall have your career!”
Yuko smiled slightly. “Emperor Qin Shi, I answer to an authority much greater than any you might have access to.”
She paused and glanced at the other two officials, who were now on their feet. “May I suggest,” she continued, “that we get to the reason for our appointment?”
One of the overweight men stepped forward. “I think the emperor has made it clear that he doesn’t want—”
Yuko sighed and glanced at Eve, who nodded. Yuko drew her sword, the motion eliciting gasps from the three men.
The two men moved to protect the emperor. “State your business,” the other official pressed, his tone less commanding and more focused on getting to the business at hand so the intruders might take what they wanted and leave.
Yuko lowered her sword. “We’re here for information. Information about the remaining boxes of the Sacred Clan ship.”
The two men in front of the emperor looked at each other, confused.
Their expressions immediately made them unimportant to her mission. “Sit down,” Yuko told them, waving her sword in their direction, “or lose your limbs.”
Eve glanced at her. “Whatever happened to asking them nicely first?”
Yuko shrugged. “I already did the diplomacy thing,” she explained, turning her head in Eve’s direction. “I guess Michael must have rubbed off on me,” she muttered under her breath, turning her attention to the emperor as the other two sat back down on their sofas. “I assume you’re Qin Shi?”
The man looked less arrogant as the gravity of the situation dawned on him. “I am, but I haven’t got the knowledge you’re looking for!”
Yuko narrowed her eyes. “And why would I believe you?” she asked unemotionally.
The emperor put his hands up, now shaking in fear. This may have been a powerful and greedy man who was formidable politically thanks to the money he wielded from his country, but, faced with a weapon in the absence of his security detail, he was nothing but a weed.
“I swear to you that I don’t know the details,” he protested. Yuko stepped closer.
“You need Chang Feng, my technology officer. He knows about that project. It was deemed too important for me to know about it.”
Yuko regarded him carefully, making up her mind.
Just then Eve lunged forward, having spotted the man on the right slipping his fingers underneath the ornate coffee table in front of him.
“Shit. He’s just tripped the silent alarm,” she called to Yuko.
Yuko’s eyes glared red. She was about to swing her sword at the pompous official when she saw that Eve was already on it, having launched herself at him over the sofa and tackled him to the ground. She punched him in the head, knocking him out cold.
The doors they had just burst through were opened again, this time by a tide of armed guards flooding into the stately office.
Within seconds guards lined the office’s walls, surrounding Yuko, Eve, and their captives.
Yuko growled in frustration. “I wanted to do this diplomatically, but evidently that isn’t an option here. Eve, send the signal, please.”
Eve blasted her weapon in the direction of a second influx of armed guards gathering around the other door, taking out half a dozen of them.
Meanwhile, Yuko swiped up and around with her sword, taking out two approaching her from behind.
The guards on the side of the room farthest from the first door started firing, only to be jumped by two black figures that seem
ed to appear out of nowhere. The firing guards disappeared onto the floor behind the desk on the far side of the room, just before their shots could be maneuvered onto Yuko’s position.
A second later Jacqueline and Mark appeared, taking out five armed guards from behind. They had entered from the next office.
Other black figures slipped like shadows around the room, dropping the paramilitary security guards, breaking necks and trigger fingers without mercy.
Within moments there was no more gunfire; everything was once again still and peaceful.
Yuko stood, blood dripping from her sword, as the three men trembled in terror.
“So tell me, where might I find this Chang Feng?” she inquired politely, her diplomatic air returning to her.
Frankfurt, Germany - small shop
The ring-a-ling of a small bell notified Jan Zwerven he had customers. The older man put down his leather mallet and lifted his too tired body off of his chair. He smiled at the piece of leather he had been working on.
Jan leaned down and studied the last few imprints from his tool. He was creating a flower and the leaf tool embedded the impression as he turned the leather.
Turn, strike the tool with his mallet. Turn, strike the tool with his mallet.
From time to time, he would grab the old sponge and squeeze the water from it. Then, he would rub the remaining moisture on the leather and allow it to soak up the water. The leather would bloom, the outside becomes soft as the moisture was wicked into the tough skin.
His was a happy life. The smell of leather was something his late wife had never understood. He even enjoyed the effort of tanning hide, something even he recognized as weird. However, her not liking the smell of leather was something he never understood.
He made his way out of his back workshop and pushed aside the leather strips that provided some privacy from the front of his store, to his workshop and living quarters above.
Inside were three people, and Jan stopped. All of them wore weapons. Even the pretty woman acted as if they were part of who she was, not something she just belted on each morning.
His voice was confident if a bit diffident, “May I help you?” The shorter man, perhaps Japanese if he guessed correctly, turned and bowed his head just a fraction in his direction.
The woman had turned and graced him with a beautiful smile. One that he would wager would cause a thousand ships to sail. If perhaps, he was the one commanding them.
Then again, his wife had always said he was a sucker for a pretty woman who smiled at him. It was why she would take over the task of negotiating for his services when he had a pretty woman for a customer.
Or hell, any woman that would smile at him.
The taller man was wearing a long coat, from a material he didn’t recognize. He had no hair and was looking at different hats that Jan had done in the past. Some he did as potential sales and others for customers who never came back.
The man turned around. His eyes were sharp, his smile was genuine as he lifted a hat. “This style?”
“That is an old American style,” Jan told him reaching out for the hat the man was holding. He handed it over. “I’ve copied a style made famous by a man called John Batterson Stetson.” He turned the hat over, “Inside here,” Jan pointed inside, “Is the bow that I make to look like the original skull and crossbones.”
Sabine moved closer and looked inside, “Why would you do that?” she asked.
“It’s a nod of respect from us in these times, to those who started our profession so many centuries before. Way before the end of our civilization that we had to crawl out of.” Jan told her. “The old professionals would use mercury to make their felt hats.” He held the hat in his right hand and used his left to point to his head. “The mercury would poison them, give them brain damage.” He pulled his hand down, and moved it like it was spasming. “They would get violent and uncontrollable muscle twitching.”
“That’s…” Sabine paused a moment, “That’s horrible!”
“That is life,” Michael told her. “It is the reason we got the phrase mad-as-a-hatter.”
Jan looked up at the man, “No one I’ve ever talked to knew that, mister.”
Michael held out his hand to shake. “Michael,” he told him. “This young lady is Sabine, and my other friend here is Akio.”
“Oh, Japanese!” Jan smiled and bowed a bit, “I love meeting those from other countries.” He turned to Sabine, “You are French?”
“Oui,” she replied.
He turned to Michael, “And you, sir?”
“Most recently, America,” Michael replied. “But I’ve been known to travel other countries.”
“If only Gertrude were still here,” Jan whispered, “She would have kept you here, drinking beer to get your stories.”
“Too many stories, young man, too many stories,” Michael told him.
“Ah!” Jan waved a hand, “You would do better to get this one to smile at me to cut my prices, flattering me by calling me young won’t do it.”
Akio smiled, a bit of humor in his eyes.
“I need a special hat,” Michael told him.
“Fabric?” Jan asked.
“Leather, something appropriate to match my coat,” Michael told him as he held out his coat for Jan to feel.
“Going to need something…Different.” Jan reached up and scratched his face. “Design?”
“Roses!” Sabine answered before Michael could say anything. He looked down at her in surprise.
“Roses?” He asked.
“Yes!” Sabine started looking around, “Do you have something I can use to draw?”
Jan turned and made his way to the back, “One second, oh patient lady.” He called out and disappeared behind his leather strips.
Akio whispered. “He obviously does not know this young lady.” He said and laughed when Sabine tried to pop his arm.
He wasn’t there to receive the hit.
“Dammit, you move fast!” She grinned and turned around when she heard Jan coming back. She walked up to his counter and accepted the pen, and paper. “What I’m thinking…”
Michael and Akio glanced at each other with Akio asking, When did she take over designing your hat?
When have you ever known a woman to need permission?
Hai.
The two men turned back to Jan and Sabine.
“… Right here is a skull, dead center. Behind the skull are Angel wings, with roses laying this side and the other side. There should be flames in the eye sockets…No, no. Scratch that.” She marked on the paper, “Now, here we need two pistols crossed, above the skull and between the wings.”
“What do these pistols look like?” Jan asked. Sabine turned around to look at Michael with a raised eyebrow.
Michael walked forward and pulled his coat out of the way. He drew his pistol, confirming the safety was on and the power turned off. He laid it on the counter.
Jan whistled. He looked up to Michael and back to the pistol. “That’s unique, isn’t it?”
“It’s before the time of the world falling,” Michael told the man. “Made for me.”
Jan looked back up, staring at Michael, “You don’t look that old.”
Michael smiled, “From where I stand, your age is that of a baby.”
Jan’s mouth opened in shock. “Oh … oh oh oh!” He turned excitedly to walk to the back, but then turned around, “Don’t go anywhere!” he told Michael and then turned back around and went through the strips again.
Michael read his surface thoughts and shook his head. “Who knew.”
Akio just nodded.
“I really hate it,” Sabine eyed them both, “when you two go all silent and mind-talky between yourselves.”
She was interrupted when Jan came walking back out, holding a large book reverently. “This was Gertrude’s.” He laid it out on the counter after Michael picked up his pistol. Jan waved at the gun, “I’ve got that up here, no problem with my memory.” He open
ed the book. “This is her secret research.” He told them. “It’s what got us started, we both loved history, finding out the secrets of the past.” He turned the pages, scanning them and occasionally pulling down clippings that were affixed inside.
On the third turn, he found was he was looking for. “These are the stories of the one, the Patriarch,” Jan read, his finger scrolling across the page. “The man who brought honor or swift death to those who would change in the dark of the night. They would follow the strictures, or they would die. He left his children here in Europe, to travel to the colonies, never to come back to Europe again. When he left,” Jan looked up at Michael, his voice solid, but soft, reverent, “He was already ten centuries old.”
Michael pressed his lips together, “That might have been off a few decades.”
A tear was forming on Jan’s face, drifting down his cheek. He never felt Sabine pick up a piece of cloth to wipe it for him. “She was right,” he whispered. “She knew that the Patriarch wouldn’t let us down.” This time, he pulled his glasses and dabbed at his eyes. “You’re here to take out the Duke, aren’t you?” He asked Michael.
“Among other things, yes,” Michael admitted.
“Then may I ask a favor?” Jan closed the book and set it to the side.
“Let me hear it,” he replied.
“I would like to add Vampire teeth to the skull, and tiny red pinpricks of red to the eye sockets.” He said, but Michael stopped him before he continued.
“I need something quick,” Michael answered him, “I’m not sure we have the time…”
Jan shook his head. “If you will just promise to wear it when you yank that sonofabitch’s heart out of his chest, then our daughter will be avenged,” he told Michael. “You come back tomorrow morning, I will have your hat, ArchAngel, you have my word.”
Michael held out his hand, and Jan took it, “I will take some of his blood and consecrate your vengeance so that the hat knows.”
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