by James Quinn
There was a brief whistling noise and then Crane felt an unbelievable stab of pain in his right thigh causing him to cry out. It had hit him right in the centre, the metal hitting bone. He brought his left hand down and felt a small spiked wheel half in and half out of the flesh… he knew from the briefing reports that it would be a Shaken, the small lethal throwing stars of the Shinobi. His only hope now was that it hadn't been tipped with poison, but then again, knowing the type of enemy he was dealing with the odds were that it had been. Which meant he may only have minutes to live…? If that was the case, he was going to take as many of these bastards with him as possible! Crane crouched, his body low, his wounded leg causing him to take small steps. His finger was resting on the trigger of the shotgun ready to take out the Shaken thrower… he heard a choking sound from over on his left and then seconds later the sounds of gunshots… Gorilla was making his '39 sing…
* * *
The boom of Crane's shotgun was sweet music to Gorilla's ears and for those few moments while his gun was jammed, he'd thought he was done for, until the Special Forces soldier worked the shotgun and gave him time to get back into the fight.
Gorilla felt a whisper around his ears; material brushing against his skin, and the touch of a cord grazed his cheeks. Then there was a 'snap' as the cord was lowered from above him and pulled tight, encircling his throat! He was lifted inches off the floor and the chokehold was already starting to take effect. His left hand clawed up instinctively, desperately trying to get his fingers underneath the assassin's cord, anything to relieve the pressure and allow some air to get through to his lungs. He tried and failed, found himself lifted another inch, the toes of his shoes barely managing to keep contact with the wooden floor. He gulped, trying to squeeze any last bits of oxygen into his lungs… but still failing. His worry wasn't just the strangulation, it was that he was strung up here like a prize turkey, fair game for any sword-wielding assassin who happened to be near. Move, do something, do anything, but don't just hang here waiting to be strangled or stabbed! he thought.
The '39?
He lifted his weapon arm straight up, aiming at where he thought the assassin must be… his consciousness slowly starting to slip away. His life was measured now in seconds, fractions of seconds and it took all of his will to make his finger work the trigger. He was vaguely aware of shots firing from the '39, how many he wasn't sure, but however many it was, it seemed to be enough because he dropped to the floor, the pressure on his throat relieved. He breathed heavily, gulping air back into his lungs… and then he became aware of a body falling from above and landing on the floor in front of him. The assassin! He was still moving, wounded, but still lethal. Gorilla pushed his off-hand forward, found the man's head, jammed the '39 at an angle under where he thought his chin was and unloaded three 9mm rounds. There was a muffled boom and an unmistakable splatter of brain tissue as the bullets ripped off the top of the assassin's head. The body flopped limply aside.
Gorilla, still reeling from the strangulation, was now conscious of a new figure coming straight at him. He saw the ambient light glint off the edge of a razor sharp blade as it twirled, ready to strike at him as he crouched on the floor. With seconds to spare, Gorilla flung himself backwards, landing hard on his back, gaining some time to bring up the '39 one handed and start firing in a zipper motion, starting at the bottom of his range and working upwards in a straight line. He estimated that four of his rounds hit home, jerking the assassin back and halting his progress. The silver edge of the sword dropped but it was the final 'boom' of a Remington which took off the side of the assassin's head. In the ensuing silence, Gorilla knew that there were no more demons in the darkness left for them to kill.
* * *
They found two oil lamps in the room and lit them. What they faced brought home the vivid violence of what they'd just survived. Gorilla counted eight bodies. The room resembled an abattoir. The remains of the Shinobi assassins were littered across the floor, lying at unnatural angles, black robed figures awash with bullet holes and shotgun blast trauma. All manner of swords, ropes, knives and sickles were thrown around the room in an equally haphazard manner.
Crane sat down on the floor and Gorilla watched as he carefully removed a Shaken, the small lethal throwing stars of the Shinobi, out of a wound on his thigh, wincing as the small metal star eased its way out. There was no need to question whether it was poisoned or not, the shake in his hands and the unnatural pallor of his skin told Gorilla that it had been. He just hoped they would have enough time to complete the mission before death took him.
Gorilla searched the room carefully, in case there was a hidden assassin lurking somewhere, waiting, ready to strike out with a sword. He'd picked up Lang's Remington and was using it now to search the room. He used one of the assassin's cloth masks to cover up the severed head of their fallen comrade. Minutes later, he declared the room was secured. Crane limped over to where Gorilla was standing and they both looked up at the locked hatch at the top of the staircase, leading to the next level of the Pagoda.
“Why do you think no one has followed us from the lower levels?” asked Crane.
It was a good question and one Gorilla had been thinking hard about. “I think we've been lured into a bloody big trap. The guards outside, if Miko hasn't taken them out already, are to stop us from escaping, not stopping us from getting this far. Whatever is up there never wants us to leave this place.”
Crane took a moment to let Gorilla's words sink in, before he spoke again. “What about getting up there?” he questioned, jerking a thumb at the padlocked hatch. Gorilla studied it. It was padlocked from the outside, so whoever was up there wanted to slow them down and not stop them completely. Almost as if this were a game and they were being toyed with.
“Do you have any solid rounds left for the Remington?” asked Gorilla. Solid slugs could easily take care of the huge padlock affixed to the hatch, as well as any hinges which might hold it in place. Three quick 'booms' from the Remington and the doorway to the next floor level would be wide open.
“Of course!” Crane replied.
Gorilla had already started loading the rest of the shotgun cartridges into the Remington and replaced his dead magazine with a fresh one. “Then load up a few more and blast off that lock, old son, we're going to kick the arse off whatever is up there waiting for us.”
Chapter Eight
'Old' Bill Hodges was crouched in the bushes, the snow was falling heavily now, and he watched the scene that lay before him in amazement. It was like a scene from a movie. Actually, it was like a scene from a movie he'd seen the year before, 'Zulu', about the battle for Rorke's Drift as the horde of Zulu warriors kept attacking and attacking, no matter how many of them were shot down by the British.
That was what he was seeing now, albeit in a more vivid form. A seemingly endless line of black clad guards rushed from the adjacent building to the pagoda, some making it a few feet before they were taken down by the sniper, hidden somewhere on the hillside behind him, while others managed to find some kind of cover, possibly even firing a few shots into the surrounding wilderness, before giving away their positions and being killed by the sniper. So far, Hodges had counted eighteen bodies sprawled about the compound, the majority of them with bullet holes in their heads. He grinned. That little girl was extremely good with a rifle.
His orders were to wait until there were no more guards left, once the sniper had her kill quota, and then stand and quickly make his way across to the steps leading to the pagoda. The sniper would be his protector once he crossed open ground, covering his back. Then he would plant his explosives on each of the four corner supports of the building. The plan was to bring the whole building down and then watch it burn. All the wood that made up the structure would make the conflagration inevitable. His four devices, his 'Whizz-Bangs' as he called them, consisted of enough plastic explosives to bring down a small suburban street. All were set with a pre-programmed timer. He settled in the bushes
and waited for a few moments more, before standing and running out across the snowy killing ground as fast as his aging legs would carry him. He ran, slipping in the blood-soaked snow several times, but he made it. He was still a tough old soldier, even if civilian life had softened him slightly.
He packed the first device into the support column nearest the lake surrounding the pagoda. In the distance, he could hear the occasional sound of long distance gunfire, as Miko took down any straggling targets. He carefully negotiated the perimeter of the building, always ready and alert in case a hidden enemy jumped out at him, ready to slit his throat. Ten minutes later he'd planted his charges in the remaining three support columns; on the last one he was extra cautious to ensure there weren't any assassins waiting for him by the guard house annex. With the last charge set and the timer clicked to 'On' he began to cross the killing ground again, returning to his rendezvous point in the bushes. He glanced once more at his watch before he settled himself deep into the safety of the darkened bushes. At best, the team inside the pagoda had thirty minutes to get clear and get to safety before the explosives detonated and destroyed the building. He turned in the direction of the sniper's perch up on the hillside, giving Miko a thumbs up signal. He knew she would see him through the scope and understand that he'd completed his part of the mission.
He never heard the arrow. In truth, he was still breathing heavily from all the running and the action of the past thirty minutes, so his heart was almost beating out of his body and the blood was rushing in his ears. He was only aware of the shocking impact into his chest, the thump that rocked him forward, causing him to drop his weapon onto the ground. And then he started to fall…
* * *
The Shinobi assassin, Toshu Goto approached his victim. In his black Shinobi Shozoko costume, hooded and silent, he resembled a wraith of darkness, blending into the trees. He lowered his bow, strapped it across his back and silently drew his Ninjato to finish off the old man.
His orders from the Karasu had been clear. He was to infiltrate himself into the grounds and remain silent until the British team arrived. He'd watched three of the men escape inside the pagoda. Good, the Karasu and his fellow Shinobi could deal with them. He would have the honour of taking this old man's head. Toshu Goto guessed that the man dying in front of him was older than his comrades, perhaps by a good twenty years. Obviously an old warrior, even gaijin should be afforded some respect. Goto would make this old man's death both quick and honourable.
He stepped forward and steadied his sword, reversing it so that the tip was pointing downwards. He picked a vulnerable spot on the old man in front of him; the base of the neck. Goto raised the sword straight up and then thrust downwards with all his strength. The sword buried itself to the hilt in the neck of his victim. Goto felt the flesh tremble – a shudder, nothing more – then he retracted the blade. The whole murder had taken less than five seconds. There was no need to push the man forward with his shoe; he'd simply slumped onto the snowy ground, the blood from the fatal neck wound running out onto the snow around him.
The Shinobi silently replaced the sword in the scabbard attached to his back and crouched down to search the body of the man he'd just killed. Perhaps there was some kind of useful intelligence? Maybe information the Karasu could use against his enemies? He hoped so. To gain the favour of the legendary Raven, his master, was Toshu Goto's greatest pleasure. He knew that somewhere out in the darkness – he wasn't sure where – was a sniper. Soon he would have to track and kill the man who had shot down so many soldiers of the clan this night. The sniper was obviously a man of great skill, judging by the number of bodies strewn in the courtyard of the pagoda. But here in the bushes, Toshu Goto judged that he was safe from enemy fire. He was invincible, he was deadly, and he was the Raven's master Shinobi.
* * *
Miko had watched as Hodges had given the signal that the explosives were in place and primed.
She'd picked her sniper's nest well. It gave her a clear view of the whole courtyard. To her best count, she'd taken twenty-five heads this night. Her uncle would have been proud of her shooting. Not of the killing, but of the marksmanship he'd instructed her in. Now her job was to protect the other members of the team until the explosives blew the pagoda apart. She returned her attention to where Hodges was sitting crouched in the bushes.
She could see him panting, out of breath. Then what appeared to be a large stick burst out of his chest and stopped, halfway along the wooden shaft. She saw the surprise on Hodges face, a wince of pain and then he fell forward onto his knees, placing his hands out in front of him, palms down, onto the snowy ground. Blood poured from his chest. She inhaled deeply to calm herself and closely scrutinised the scene of death through her scope. And… yes… there he was… a faint movement of shadow, deep in the undergrowth. Dark clothed and a glint of moonlight off something metallic, perhaps a sword. Miko knew instantly that she couldn't shoot from this angle, there was no definite shot, no clear target. She also knew the shadow killer who had taken Hodges might be gone at any second, disappearing back into the darkness from where he'd come. She glanced up from the rifle, scanning for a better shooting position… her eyes tracking to her left. She found one; a jutting promontory a dozen yards or so further up the rocky side of the hill.
Miko got up from her position, stretched out her aching muscles and ran. She ran against the clock, cradling her beloved Arisaka like a baby, her legs pumping.
“I will not be afraid… I will conquer my fear. I will not be afraid… I will conquer my fear.”
She ran almost blindly in the darkness, slipping twice on the snowy rocks but recovering her steps at the last second. Finally, she glanced over to her left and saw that she had a direct line of sight to where Bill Hodges' body lay. Miko dropped down to her knees, lying prone, and then settled the rifle into her shoulder again.
“I will not be afraid… I will conquer my fear. I will not be afraid… I will conquer my fear.”
She took a breath, determined to slow her heart rate and then looked once again through the scope and caught sight of the black clad assassin, his sword raised ready to plunge into the dying body of Bill Hodges. Through the scope, and because of the distance involved, the execution was like watching a silent movie. The killer raised the sword up, tip pointing to the ground, and thrust downwards. The sharp steel cut into Hodges like a hot knife running through butter and just as quickly, it was retracted and resheathed.
High in her perch on the hill, Miko watched as the assassin bent down and started to search Hodges' body. Now was her time, she knew that every second counted, before the killer melted back into the darkness of the forest. She eased back the bolt on the rifle and checked the bullet was seated properly. Then she centred the crosshairs of the scope on the dark mass of the man's head. She exhaled slowly, eye to the scope, rifle butt to the shoulder and finger imperceptibly touching the trigger.
“I will not be afraid… I will conquer my fear. I will not be afraid… I will conquer my fear.”
She paused… then fired.
There was a moment of nothingness, and for a brief second she thought she'd missed. Then… there it was! A crimson red halo of blood as the bullet smashed out the front of the assassin's face and dropped him to the ground in a lifeless lump. It was another target down. Another head for the little Japanese sniper. Another piece of her revenge.
“I will not be afraid… I will conquer my fear. I will not be afraid… I will conquer my fear.”
Chapter Nine
The lock came away easily, one blast with the Remington's solid rounds and it shattered. Crane took the steps first and pushed up and away at the hatch. It swung upwards and slammed onto the floor above, letting in more light. They climbed the wooden steps to the next level of the pagoda, their footsteps heavy after the horror of the attack on the previous level and they both knew combat fatigue was setting in.
The room was of a similar size, style and design as its predecessors on the lo
wer levels, with heavy wood and traditionally-panelled windows and sliding doors. It was sparsely furnished, only a few simple vases on shelves and a curtain at the far end covered a small window which barely let in any light, giving this level an air of dark broodiness. There were wooden support columns dotted around the structure and the floor was covered in its entirety with a thick tatami matt, made of straw. Oil lamps gave off an eerie glow of reds and oranges and the smell of jasmine subtly filled the room. The darkness ruled the rest of the room, except for one small pocket of light in its centre, lit by a small candle illuminating the gross figure who sat staring straight at them. Taru Hokku sat in the light, resembling a resplendent Buddha. He was naked, except for his traditional white mawashi, the loincloth-like garment of the expert Sumo wrestler. He was alert and his muscles flexed constantly, preparing for the inevitable battle to come.
Gorilla and Crane split off and slowly, cautiously, approached the large Japanese man in a pincer movement, weapons up and ready. Lang had already paid the ultimate price for assuming they'd merely entered a darkened room on the previous level and not having his weapon ready… something which had cost him his head. There was something not quite right about the whole scene, thought Gorilla. It wasn't just that Hokku was relaxed and in control, nor was it the way the room was lit so that all the attention was focused upon the large Sumo wrestler, no something else… and then he sniffed, took in a deep breath and knew instantly what it was; animals. He smelled animals…
* * *
“You did well to get inside our operation. Very professional, very clever, but it will do you no good. You will never leave the Karasu's Dojo alive. You must know that?” asked Hokku evenly.