There’s definitely something wrong here. Eichiro was talking openly and honestly, obviously trying to set her at her ease. From anyone else, she’d have welcomed it as a thawing of icy reserve, an indication that the “iceman” was actually human after all, with emotions just like anyone else. But from Eichiro? Something just didn’t seem right, didn’t jibe. What was it? His words did make sense, she could understand what he was talking about. And the way he was acting implied he was as uncomfortable as she was.
Acting! Was that it? In the lengthening silence, she stared at Eichiro. Is he acting? she asked herself. Is this all a masterful performance?
“Do you understand the necessity, Carrson-san?”
Eichiro asked again.
“Uh, yes,” she stammered. “Yes, I understand.”
“Then I must ask the question,” he said, a tinge of sadness — Or feigned sadness — in his voice. “Has there been any other occasion when you have tried to penetrate the security of Funakoshi-san’s lab? Have you spied on him and his colleagues, tried to eavesdrop on their conversations? You understand that I ask these questions not to shame you, but merely because my responsibility requires it.” He fell silent, his black eyes steady on her.
Nikki looked into those eyes, looking for some hint of the emotion in his voice and in his manner. There was nothing. The eyes were as cold and hard as ever, devoid of the slightest trace of humanity. It felt as though those eyes were looking deep into her, examining her soul and weighing it in some balance.
Tension knotted her belly. Should she tell him that this morning wasn’t the first time she’d seen one of Funakoshi’s nocturnal jaunts? No. For some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to admit it. Even though it had been totally innocent, completely accidental, something inside her knew that Eichiro wouldn’t believe that. And then what would happen?
“Never,” she said levelly, holding his gaze with hers. “I didn’t do anything to compromise the security of the project.”
For a few more seconds, Eichiro stared silently into her eyes. Then he nodded sharply, as if he’d got what he wanted. “Thank you for your time, then, Carrson-san,” he said briskly. “You may return to your duties.”
She stood and turned to go. As she opened the door, she glanced back. Those black, soulless eyes seemed to glint with sharp understanding.
X-
Why didn’t I tell him? Nikki asked herself again as she walked into the refectory for lunch. I saw something
I shouldn’t have seen, but so what? It was an accident. And I don’t know what the hell it was anyway!
What did I think he’d do if I told him? she thought disgustedly. The worst he could have done was give her a dressing down, orders to keep her curiosity under control in the future. Nothing more. Fire her? Send her back to Tokyo in disgrace? Not likely, considering the inconvenience of finding someone to replace her. No, she concluded, her decision not to tell him was just paranoia, pure and simple. Again. She took her tray, selected a salad and two sticks of yakitori, then chose a seat at a table near the door.
Lunch was lonely. There was nobody there she really wanted to talk to — or, perhaps more importantly, who’d want to talk to her. She needed somebody to bounce ideas off, to talk to about what she’d learned. O’Neil would have been good — for all his cynical humor, he was a smart man, and he’d have understood. Toshikazu would have been even better, of course — it had been he who’d helped her through the bad times in Tokyo right after the raid on Nagara. But both were gone. It’s been a rough month for friends, she thought sadly. Nikki had never really had to deal with death before, the loss of someone close. Certainly people she knew had died; nobody could get to her age without knowing someone who died. A boy she’d known in high school had killed himself when he’d driven his car into a brick wall, and a classmate from university had died from leukemia. But neither had been close friends. Death had always been something that happened to other people — a distant event that did nothing more than brush the periphery of her life.
No longer. She’d lost the closest friend she’d ever had, and then someone who had the potential for becoming a very close friend.
I understand how Peter must feel, she realized. She knew what his grief must be like. And Professor Black— how much worse must it be for him? He lost his son … No wonder he was withdrawn, rude, hostile. Although she still couldn’t bring herself to like the man, she found she could empathize with him. To understand all is to forgive all? Maybe.
Her thoughts turned back to Peter. He might be someone she could talk to about what was going on. She knew he wouldn’t understand the details of what she’d learned — as a self-styled “scientist,” his understanding of biology and biochemistry seemed incredibly limited. And she was positive he couldn’t comprehend her misgivings, her fears about what Eichiro was up to. He was simply too honest and straightforward for that. (And what does that say about me? she asked herself.) Nevertheless, it would be good to talk to someone. Even if he couldn’t understand the details and the complexities, she knew that Peter Hollingforth would be supportive. And that’s just what she needed at the moment. Maybe she should sneak out of the outpost, meet up with the soldier who’d be watching from the jungle fringe, and go see Peter …
Annoyed at herself, she shook her head. That’s dumb, Nikki, she told herself. Risking the ire of Eichiro and the rest, just because you’re too weak to handle it on your own? If she had something important to tell him — if she’d found out something about the weretiger—then maybe. But now it just didn’t make sense.
She looked up as she heard a familiar voice. A group of security guards had entered the refectory, seating themselves at a table nearby. Dei was among them. As before, he flashed her a quick smile, then went back to his conversation. At least there’s somebody here who doesn’t hate me, she thought. She shook her head again at her emotional reaction, and returned her concentration to her lunch.
Even though she wasn’t actively listening, she couldn’t help but overhear the guards’ conversation. “I didn’t see it, I told you,” one of the men was saying. “It was Uramatsu in Section Three. He saw it, and so did some other men in his section.”
“Honto?” Dei asked. “Truly? Then why wasn’t anything said?”
“They were ordered not to speak of it,” the first man said.
“So you’re breaking regulations telling us about it?” another guard put in. “Thank you so much for including us in your infraction.”
“When was this?” Dei queried.
“After the helicopter crash,” the first guard replied. “Section Three was sent out to recover the bodies, remember? That’s when he saw it.”
“That’s when he imagined it,” another voice corrected. “Come on, you expect us to believe Uramatsu saw some kind of half-man half-beast?”
The words jolted Nikki like an electric shock. She snapped her head round to stare at the security guards. Sensing her eyes on them, they fell silent. All but Dei stared at her challengingly.
“Sumimasen,” she said hesitantly, “excuse me, but what was that? What did you see?”
The guard who’d spoken first looked at her scornfully. “Your question is out of place,” he began. “Security regulations prohibit…”
But Dei laid a restraining hand on his arm, shot him a look that Nikki translated as “She’s okay.”
The man’s opposition subsided. He was young, Nikki saw, like most of the security personnel, and probably enjoyed the opportunity to be the center of attention. “It wasn’t me, Carrson-san, it was Uramatsu.”
Nikki nodded in understanding. “But what was it he saw?” she pressed.
The man blinked in reaction to her urgency. “I don’t quite know, Carrson-san,” he said. “What he said he saw was a human-like figure covered with fur. When it spotted him, it dropped down onto all-fours and ran away like a beast.”
One of the other guards snorted. “Nonsense, of course.”
Nikki nodded slowly. �
�Nonsense,” she agreed quietly. But deep inside she knew otherwise.
*
The conversation stayed with her as she returned to her quarters after lunch. Half-man half-beast. She remembered the security guard’s words as she sat down at the computer. Sounds like a weretiger, doesn’t it? Now the question was, what to do with the information?
Peter and his colleagues would probably want to know that the thing was still in the area — or, at least, that it had been a couple of days ago. That was the kind of information they needed. But how to get it to them? As she’d returned to her building from the refectory, she’d seen the gate of the compound had been open. That probably meant security teams were out in the jungle, searching for the zombies that had threatened her. The gate had been open, sure, but there’d been two very tense-looking guards standing by it, weapons at the ready. How could she get past them? She’d have to give that some thought.
She powered up her computer and keyed in the command to retrieve the analyses stored in her personal directory. The computer hummed for a few seconds, the screen remaining blank. Then the first graph appeared on the screen.
She leaned forward, staring at the machine in puzzlement. Usually computer response was a lot faster than that. When she’d been viewing the records earlier this morning, it had taken the system less than a second to flash the first graph on the screen. Why was it slower now?
She thought it through. It had to mean that somebody else was using the system — or multiple people — doing something that required a lot of processing overhead. No matter how fast the central mainframe was, if the demands on its processing power got too much the overall system response would degrade. What could be using so much computing power?
Breaking the security on my personal files ? The thought struck her with an almost physical impact. Suddenly feeling cold, she remembered the events back in Tokyo, when her personal directory there had been locked, and then when the strange file — STORM.LET — had appeared in the directory listing. Was somebody accessing her personal files again?
She shook her head. That’s paranoia talking again, she reprimanded herself. Why would they bother? It just didn’t make sense.
But, nevertheless, it did seem a pointless risk to keep the files around any longer. She’d studied them for so long, so intently, that she was sure she could draw them accurately by hand if she ever had to. If somebody ever did bother to check her directory — Eichiro, for example, at the urging of Funakoshi — the fact that she had the files would only cast more suspicion on her. Just what I need.
Working quickly, she commanded the computer to erase the files. When they were gone, just to make sure, she removed the entire directory. That way, she thought, if anybody looks, they might find out that some files used to exist, but there would be no way to discover exactly what they were—even what they were named.
With that out of the way, she felt a little better. But would anybody ever have bothered looking? she asked herself. Why would the computer services people ever make the effort?
The answer was obvious: yes, they would have made the effort… if they were ordered to. The personnel of Nagara were very conscientious when it came to
following orders, even if those orders made little sense.
An idea that had been nagging at the edge of her mind suddenly became clear. She sat back, staring into nothingness, while she thought it through. Yes, she decided after a moment, it had a good chance of working. She powered down the computer and left the room—checking that her pistol still hung at her hip as she did so. *
The stockade gate was still open, she saw, but the security men guarding it didn’t seem to be there. Maybe she wouldn’t have to try the ploy she’d devised after all. She straightened her back, put energy and determination into her step as she strode toward the gate. People are less likely to question you if you look like you know what you’re doing, she told herself.
She was only a couple of yards from the gate when the security guard appeared. He must have been standing around the corner, Nikki realized. The man raised his hand in the international gesture for “Stop.”
Nikki didn’t slow her pace, she just strode up to him. She forced her face into an expression of intensity and concern. “There you are,” she said briskly before he could speak. “I thought maybe you were shirking your duty.”
The guard’s eyes opened wide. Shirking duty was one of the worst crimes in the canon of Japanese sins, she knew. “No, Carrson-san,” he said quickly, “I was attending to my duties. I’d just stepped away for a moment, I could still see the gate, and …”
She cut him off with a sharp gesture. “It doesn’t matter. You’re here now. Eichiro-sarz and Hongo-san want to see you, right now, in Eichiro-san’s office.”
“Honto?” he asked in surprise. “Why?”
She pumped as much scorn as she could into her voice. “It wasn’t my place to ask,” she said haughtily— with the unstated implication, “It isn’t yours either.”
Her words struck home, she could see it in his eyes. He drew himself up to attention. “Hai, Carrson-san,” he barked, “yes, of course.” He hesitated. “What about the gate, though? The gate must be watched …”
“Do you think Eichiro-san would not have thought of that?”
“Then another guard is coming to take my duty?” He bowed sharply. “Then I will go, Carrson-san.” And then he turned on his heel and headed for the administration building at double-time.
Nikki watched him go, a smile creeping onto her face. Blind obedience to authority, she thought, or even supposed authority. It’s useful sometimes. She turned and strode out through the gate, keeping her pace steady and determined. She looked around her as she walked. There were no other security guards in view. Good.
And what will happen when he finds out Eichiro doesn’t want him ? she thought. She shrugged. Well, I never said outright that Eichiro had told me directly — personally — to pass the word. When it came down to it, she could always claim that one of the other security guards had told her to pass the message. Which one? So sorry, Eichiro-san, I don’t know. You realize that all Japanese look alike to Westerners. (She smiled. A cliche with little truth to it, but cliches are sometimes convenient to hide behind.) And why didn’t she ask why the guard was supposed to leave the gate? But one doesn’t question orders, Eichiro-san, isn’t that right?
She knew they wouldn’t believe her, but there wasn’t any proof — hard proof — that she was lying. So what did it really matter? And again, what could they do to her? Ship her back to Tokyo? The information she had to pass to Peter was important. She was aware that she was letting her emotions—her desire to help Peter, her need to talk to someone—get in the way of her logic. But she had to admit it didn’t really matter at the moment.
She reached the edge of the clearing without seeing anyone and, she figured, without anyone spotting her. If someone had seen her, they’d definitely have stopped her, or at least yelled after her. She ducked into the cover of the jungle, walked a few more yards forward until she couldn’t see the clearing behind her. Then she stopped, quickly checked that the flap on her holster was unsnapped and the pistol ready to draw. She looked around her.
In the bright sunlight, the jungle was beautiful — still alien, but beautiful nonetheless. Memories of the zombies — or zuvembies, or whatever the hell they were — filled her mind, and she felt the short hairs at the nape of her neck stir.
But I’m relatively safe here, she told herself. I’m close enough to the clearing to make a run for it. There’s a soldier out here somewhere — he must have seen me leave the outpost—ready to protect me. And I’ve got this. She rested her hand on the ridged butt of the automatic pistol. This time I know to cock it if anything happens. She checked her watch. I’ll give him five minutes, she decided. If he doesn’t show up by then, I’ll go back.
She heard the soldier before she saw him — cautious -movement through the underbrush. She drew the pistol, snapped off the
safety and drew back on the slide the way Dei had shown her. Then she put the safety catch back on, carefully held the barrel pointing at the ground. Just in case it isn’t the soldier.
But it was. She saw a flash of scarlet through the undergrowth, then the soldier was next to her. It was Muir, a large bolt-action rifle held casually before him. The weapon had a lethal-looking bayonet — a long knife with a razor-edged blade — mounted below the barrel, extending a good eighteen inches beyond the muzzle. Polished steel flashed in the beams of sunlight filtering through the foliage above.
The young man smiled at her, showing crooked teeth. “Good afternoon, Miss Carlson,” he whispered. “Would you like to come with me, ma’am?”
“That would be fine, thank you,” she said primly, smiling in return. She slipped the pistol back into her holster, and followed the soldier as he started off toward the expedition’s camp.
They followed a narrow path through the lush undergrowth, barely wider than Nikki’s shoulders. Throughout the journey, she kept looking around her, for anything that looked out of the ordinary. Muir was keeping a careful lookout too, she noticed. Another two minutes to the camp, she figured …
There was no warning, no warning whatsoever. One moment she and Muir were alone, the only things larger than small birds that were moving in the jungle. Then she saw a flash of movement ahead.
Almost magically, a black-clad figure appeared in the path ahead of them. A familiar figure — Nikki had seen one very much like it before. Her thoughts churned in panic and confusion. She looked around wildly, surprised that she wasn’t in the narrow alleyways of Shinjuku.
That was where she’d see this figure, or one like it, before. The ninja who’d killed Toshikazu …
Ahead of her, Muir reared back in shock. But then his military training took over. He swung his gun down from port-arms, brought the barrel to bear and pulled the trigger. The rifle crashed, its report muffled by the heavy growth around them.
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