Only instants had passed since Cole had processed the information and rationalized it within his razor-sharp mind, and then his body took over completely as he raced into action, his mouth opening of its own accord.
‘Michiko!’ he called out, drawing the attention of the crowds but no longer caring. ‘Run!’
Kenzo Hiroshi couldn’t believe it; the American had realized! This had never happened to him before and almost caused the ninja to hesitate; but Kenzo’s training was too good, too complete, for that to ever happen, and instead he reacted instantly.
The flat-bladed shuriken throwing stars left their position shielded within Kenzo’s palm in rapid succession – one, two, three, four – all thrown with blinding speed and accuracy toward the American’s head, aiming for the quick kill. He would still be able to disable the girl – for the moment stood still, mouth open in shock, noodles falling to the dusty floor – and roll her into the side door of his rental van as he’d planned.
When he’d arrived at Sounzan – in the van he’d rented at Hakone-Yumoto station – Kenzo had been delighted to see that the tracker had worked. A part of him had feared that – if the American was as good as he appeared to be – he might have located the transmitter, dug it out of the girl’s shoulder, and sent his enemies on a wild goose chase. But there she’d been, sitting in a car – most likely stolen – while her protector spoke on the telephone nearby.
He had rented the van due its ability to keep an unconscious body hidden in the rear, but as he saw the unprotected girl, his plan had changed; while the American was preoccupied, he would simply get into the car, render the girl unconscious, and drive off in their own vehicle. Nice and clean, job done.
But then the girl had opened the door and left the car, and Kenzo had been forced to change plans again, parking his van carefully and then getting out, one eye on Michiko and the other on the American.
The outcome depended upon the actions of the American – or at least his fate did, anyway. If he noticed Kenzo abducting the girl, he would die; if he didn’t, he would probably live, for Kenzo had no desire to kill just for the sake of it.
But the American – impossibly! – had actually spotted him before he’d reached the girl, which made things more problematic, though certainly not impossible.
He was moving toward the girl even as the throwing stars left his hand, steel-hard fingers cocked and ready to hit the nerve in her neck which would render her insensible, an unconscious heap to be dragged helplessly into his van.
But then the girl recovered more quickly than he would have imagined, turned and did exactly as she’d been told – run!
He altered his path, taking off after her at a run of his own, new plans forming in his head as he moved. But then – no! – he felt movement behind him, and slipped to the side just as the American tried to tackle him from the rear. How had the man avoided the stars? Nobody he’d ever seen could move that fast.
But no matter; the man was here now, and would have to be dealt with.
The throwing stars had come at Cole so fast he had barely been able to see them; but he had seen the man’s hands moving, and had internally, subconsciously, calculated trajectories and allowed his body to twist out of the way. The tips of two of the blades had caught his flesh and opened up cuts above his eyebrow and across his ear, but they were superficial and Cole ignored them as he sprinted straight toward the man, glad that Michiko was already moving, her long legs taking her at speed toward the big concrete cable car station.
Stars! his mind screamed at him. Throwing stars! Shuriken!
He knew that these were weapons of the ninja, and as he raced toward the man, the possibility occurred to him that this was the same assassin who had killed Yamamoto Tsuji, and had threatened to kill the prime minister.
It made sense; if Yamamoto had been killed in order to create a leadership contest, Chomo and Mitsuya were likely candidates for hiring the killer. And if they were tied to the ultranationalists of Zen Ai Kaigi, as Nakamura believed, then they might well also want Toshikatsu dead, and want to use the same – extremely effective – man to do it.
And if the yakuza foot soldiers had already failed in their attempts to retrieve the girl, then it perhaps made sense to send the ninja out instead. He could get her back and still return to Tokyo in time to kill Toshikatsu at the LDP rally the day after.
But all of these things occurred to Cole in the blink of an eye, and no sooner had his mind conjured them, they were gone, as his body sailed through the air toward the killer, aiming to knock him to the hard floor in a flying tackle.
But at the last minute, the man moved, and Cole was left rolling across the concrete of the parking lot, the ninja moving quickly toward him, a six-inch steel tanto blade appearing in his hand. The razor-sharp blade cut across the tops of Cole’s forearms as he raised them to protect himself, slicing deep into the flesh, and Cole convulsed from the sudden, piercing pain. But he didn’t let the pain stop him, and in the same moment he was cut, Cole also lashed out with a powerful front kick that connected with the ninja’s thigh. The man grunted in pain, knocked back far enough to be out of knife range for the few moments it took for Cole to wrench the flexible metal radio antenna from the hood of the car next to him.
The ninja recovered and lunged toward Cole again, his speed blinding, his focus incredible. But Cole, blood running in red rivers down his arms, was waiting for him, and whipped out the antenna, smacking the man hard across the back of the hand that held the knife.
Cole was delighted when the knife dropped with a clatter to the parking lot floor and moved in to use the makeshift whip on the ninja’s face, when he saw the man move again, and realized too late that the knife had been dropped on purpose, to conceal the ninja’s true purpose.
In an instant, the man had shot out a hand, a small object the size of a golf-ball flying out from his jacket sleeve toward Cole, who instinctively backpedalled out of the way; and then the object hit the floor, as the ninja reached inside a coat pocket and followed him.
A bright spark of light blinded Cole as the golf ball broke open at his feet, and then a gust of smoke billowed up and around Cole, obscuring his vision completely; and then as his eyes recovered slightly, he saw a blur coming toward him through the pall, arm moving rapidly, hand holding something long and cylindrical; and then it hit Cole in the forehead, and he fell to the ground, out for the count.
The man was good, Kenzo acknowledged as he left the prone body back in the clearing fog; almost too good, in fact.
It was a shame that he hadn’t had time to finish him off, had only managed to smash him in the head with the hard oak hanbo short staff he carried in his jacket – just one of many useful items secreted around his person. But it would have been hard to affect a clean kill in the smoke, and if he had waited for the fog to clear, he would have risked losing the girl.
And as he turned away from the American, he saw that he might just lose her anyway; she was already at the station, and Kenzo saw a cable car coming back in. If she managed to get on it before he got there, she could gain a twenty minute head start on him.
But he still had the tracker, he realized, and it wouldn’t be the end of the world if he missed her here. But the longer it took, he reminded himself, the more likely it was that the authorities would turn up, and – with his plans for the upcoming LDP rally – that was the last thing he wanted.
No, now that the American was out of action, he had to make sure that she didn’t make it onto the cable car.
And so, with speed born of desperation, the ninja accelerated hard toward Sounzan station.
Cole was drowsy but hadn’t been knocked out altogether, even though the pain in his head made a part of him wish he had been; but he shrugged off the shocking throbbing of his skull and pulled himself to his feet, the smoke beginning to disappear around him.
Other people, tourists and trail-walkers, came over to help him, confused by what was happening, but Cole pushed past them, se
arching ahead for the assassin who was after his daughter.
He was glad to still be alive, and the fact that he was meant that Michiko was the overriding priority here, as Cole had suspected; the man couldn’t even waste a few precious seconds to finish Cole off, in case the girl managed to get away.
He saw the man – the ninja? – race inside the station, saw that only one car was moving on the wire, knew it meant that one was in the station, waiting to leave up the Hakone rope-way, hoped that Michiko would be on it and the ninja would be left far behind, for Cole to deal with – if he could. But at the very least, he would slow the man down, make it difficult for him to continue the pursuit. Michiko was a clever girl; she’d figure out what Cole suspected about the tracking device soon enough, and when she’d found it and removed it, she would be home free.
But he had to get to the station first, and Cole’s legs burned as he continued to accelerate to the building ahead.
The car was moving, and the girl was already inside; Kenzo leapt the barrier, rushing past the waiting queues, moving faster than the gathered crowds thought possible for a man.
He could see her now, her young face looking anxiously, fearfully, out of the rear window, mouth open as she saw Kenzo racing toward her, her American protector nowhere to be seen. But then the car broke free of the building, pulled up onto the ropes which would take it skyward up the mountain, and Kenzo saw a brief flicker of relief cross those wide eyes.
And then Kenzo jumped, and he saw the look turn to fear once more.
Michiko couldn’t believe what was happening. She’d just gone to get some food, she’d been so hungry, and then . . . this!
She’d thought she was safe when she’d boarded the cable car and the doors had shut behind her. She’d told the men working there that she was being chased by an abusive boyfriend, and an elderly couple at the front of line had let her in before them, their faces and words sympathetic; the fear and panic on her face wasn’t an act by any means.
But then the man she’d seen in the parking lot, the one who’d been walking so harmlessly – so unnoticeably, until Cole had shouted his warning – had entered the station, pushing past the line, knocking people this way and that in his rush to get to her.
Where was her father? What had this man done to him?
Her heart sank as she considered that her father might be dead, that this man chasing her might have killed him; and suddenly she wanted him to catch her, to make it onto the cable car, so she could rip his eyes out and kill him, punish him for taking away the father she had only known for a day.
But then the car pulled away from the platform and she relaxed instinctively, knowing she was safe, for now at least; but then the man jumped, legs propelling him from the platform, and he sailed through the air until his powerful hands latched onto the rear of the metal and glass box, his body dangling into nothingness below as the car was pulled inexorably upward.
But what could the man do? He wouldn’t be able to make it inside, would he? And if he couldn’t, would he be able to hang on all the way?
She took a deep breath, steeling herself.
If he made it to the top, she would be ready; she wouldn’t give in without a fight.
Cole saw the cable car moving, knew he was too late before he even got inside the building.
But, his mind racing, he saw there was a chance – however slim – and he immediately changed direction, racing for the side of the entrance, for the delivery truck which was parked there.
Without missing a stride, he leapt onto the hood, then pulled himself further up onto the roof, taking two more fast steps before jumping out over the concrete steps below, aiming for the second floor parapet of the station.
His fingers clamped down on the outside of the building, and he hauled himself upwards, working quickly, aware of how time was fast running out. He levered himself up, used the window frames that demarcated the second floor as the steps of a ladder to boost him up yet further, his hands reaching upwards, grasping wildly before he made contact with an electrical cable hanging over the edge of the roof, and he used it to pull himself up the rest of the way, until he was on the very top of the building.
He wasted no time and rolled to his feet, legs pumping as he ran to the far side, the roof of the car rising up steadily in front of him.
He kept moving faster and faster as he neared the edge, the rising car always in his sights and then – right at the far edge – he jumped once more, flying out over the cable housing, legs compressing as he landed cleanly on the blue metal roof of the car.
He almost lost his balance, used his hands on the cable attachment to steady himself, hearing the shouts and screams from the passengers below him as he moved.
But he was there; he’d made it.
Now where the hell was the ninja?
Kenzo Hiroshi couldn’t help but be impressed; he was angry, but impressed. This guy was something else, a man worthy of being a ninja himself.
How he had recovered from the blow to his head and retained the presence of mind – not to mention the physical ability – to climb the station building and make the jump to the top of the cable car, Kenzo would never know.
But he had, and now Kenzo would have to deal with him.
Sighing to himself, the ninja started to move.
Cole took in his immediate surroundings as he oriented himself on the top of the cable car; it passed above a road, before reaching the hills and mountains beyond, valleys dipping and rising on either side as the ropeway was channeled above the steaming thermal pools on its way to the mountain lookout of Owakudani.
The car itself was small, about eight feet long by five feet wide at its largest, and Cole knelt between the two large metal cable pylons as he planned his next move. Was Michiko even in the car? Cole realized suddenly that he didn’t even know, and immediately grabbed hold of one of the supports, kneeling down past the roof to peer inside the car.
The people inside saw him, a disembodied head hanging upside down outside their little glass box, and the screams returned with a vengeance; but Michiko was there, inside, relief on her face as she saw him. But where was the ninja? Cole scanned the interior again, and still couldn’t see him; and that was when he saw the panic on Michiko’s face quickly replace the relief, as she gestured frantically downward.
Realization hit Cole only instants before Kenzo did, two booted feet coming up from underneath the car to kick out at Cole’s downturned face.
The kick snapped out underneath Cole’s jaw, Michiko’s warning the only thing that gave him the time to react and not take the blow full-force.
His head was still shaken though, and he quickly retreated back onto the roof, peering over the edge on all four sides.
The car was getting higher now, the winds picking up and rocking the small box from side to side, and Cole had to grab hold of one of the pylons to steady himself lest he be blown off the car to the valley below, hot pools venting their volcanic steam into the summer sky between jagged, rocky outcrops.
But he couldn’t see the man anywhere, and began to hope that he had fallen; but he knew that this was just wishful thinking.
He carried on checking each edge in turn, all four one after the other; the man would have to approach via one side or another, and when Cole spotted him, he would stamp on his hands, kick his face, do anything he could to dislodge the ninja and send him to his death below.
He checked the front – nothing.
The left side – nothing.
The rear – nothing.
The right side – still nothing.
He returned to the front, and then sensed – almost with a sixth sense, removed from sound and sight – movement behind him, and turned to see the ninja rushing toward him, and he had no time to wonder how the man had managed to climb up so fast, how he’d been able to go from underneath the car to on top of it in mere seconds, he only had time to react instinctively to the attack, covering up his head as the man lashed out with fist
s and elbows.
The blows came in hard and fast, but Cole’s arms protected his head from absorbing too much damage; and then his hands shot out, wrapped themselves around the cables and he hauled himself up, both feet kicking the man straight in the chest.
The ninja staggered backward over the rooftop and Cole landed, hands free, and raced forward, ready to capitalize on the man’s damaged balance; but the ninja was too quick and took Cole’s momentum and turned him in a lightning-fast hip throw that took Cole over the edge.
Cole’s hands reached out for something – anything! – to hold onto, and his fingers slipped onto the top of the car’s open rear window, his weight threatening to break it right off. But it held, and Cole looked up toward the ninja’s feet, which rained stamping kicks down on him to try and loosen his grip and send him plummeting to the earth below.
Cole tested the window’s strength once more, as he pulled himself up in a fast swing, arcing his own leg out and up, making satisfying contact with the ninja’s ankle and sending him toppling back onto the cable pylons.
Cole used the opportunity to pull himself back onto the roof, narrowly avoiding a side kick aimed at his head, the ninja’s hands clinging onto the pylons as he lashed out.
Cole could see Mount Fuji now, appearing majestically at the horizon, its snow-capped peak the very symbol of Japan itself, and Cole felt a renewed strength and leapt toward the ninja, hands grasping hold of the man’s jacket, ready to haul him backwards over the edge; but moving quicker than Cole could even think, the man twisted round, arms moving fast, round and then down until he had turned his body out of his own jacket, leaving Cole holding the empty clothing, his own balance now terribly compromised, teetering backwards with no weight to counter his fall.
NEVER SAY DIE: Mark Cole Takes On the Yakuza in His Most Thrilling Adventure Yet! Page 28