Alpha Adventures: First Three Novels

by K. T. Tomb

  Later as we find out.

  RE: Travis.

  He’s putting up a good front, but the withdrawals are affecting him quite a lot. He’s barely eating, and his eyes keep glazing over. I was expecting the mood swings, but he’s really off his game. If it was up to me I’d ditch this whole thing and stick him in rehab to dry out properly, but I’ll follow your direction. If he falls off the wagon while we’re here, I will have no choice but to cancel this whole thing, especially if the Himiko Corp turns out to be rotten.

  Are you sure this was such a good idea?

  Get back to me with the information requested as soon as you can,

  Savannah.

  Chapter Eight

  The Himiko Corporation offices were much like any other in Tochigi. Unlike the skyscrapers and office blocks that grew like forests in Tokyo, Tochigi prefecture was decidedly a rural area, with few buildings over half a dozen stories tall. Travis had to admit he liked the aesthetic of the building, relatively low-tech save for the magnetic security door at the entrance and the ubiquitous security cameras. The receptionist sat behind a simple, functional wooden desk which Travis guessed was made from cedar. Behind her, affixed to the wall, lay a map of Honshu Island which, with a legend in English and Japanese, detailed the spread of the Himiko Corporation’s holdings and interests. He didn’t know exactly how big Tochigi Prefecture was, but there were dozens of tiny inscriptions denoting interests in timber, exports, plastics and technology businesses as well as many others. Savannah had decided that their best plan of action here would be to straight out ask the Kinagawas about amethyst mining, if they could see them at all, and see where the dice fell.

  Travis didn’t like it, but was unable to provide a superior course of action; besides which, he wasn’t entirely sure that Savannah had returned him to her good graces as yet, so he thought it was best to go along with it. Savannah spoke briefly with the pretty young Japanese girl at the reception desk, who in turn spoke into an intercom, and gestured for the two Americans to take seats on a pair of comfortable chairs next to some kind of verdant greenhouse plant with broad leaves. Travis was still studying it with limited interest when the receptionist attracted their attention and showed them upstairs, past several closed doors with plaques written solely in kanji to a spacious meeting room on the second floor.

  The room was entirely incongruous with the stylistic concept of what they had seen in the rest of the building. Pure white walls, with a large touch screen computer set into one, a curiously shaped white table that was clearly vacuum molded but looked like it had been carved from pure white marble by the powers of erosion alone and then topped with an impossibly thin oval of synthetic material. The table was clearly not designed so much for practicality as for its decorative qualities. Travis assumed that this room was where the Kinagawas met people to impress on them their high tastes, although the room might be a little more fitting to the top penthouse of the Docomo Yoyogi building in Tokyo than a four story office complex in Tochigi. Travis was just about to comment to Savannah about the possible delusions of grandeur inherent in the design of such a room, when a second door on the far side of the room opened, and a tall, impeccably dressed Japanese man in his late forties or early fifties entered.

  “Konichiwa,” he said, in a deep voice that belied his slim frame, “Greetings. My name is Hando Kinagawa. I am president here at Himiko Corporation, Tochigi. My secretary tells me that you have some interest in our business. Of course, I will be only too delighted to answer any inquiries from honored visitors to my country.”

  His accent was barely noticeable, but Travis thought he heard the tell-tale clipping that came from one learning English on the east coast of the United States, probably Boston.

  “Hello, Kanagawa-San,” Savannah bowed as she spoke.

  Travis was awkwardly trying his best to copy her.

  “This is Travis Monahan and I am Savannah Summers. We are geologists from the University of California, Los Angeles. We are honored that you have taken the time to speak to us on short notice.”

  “It is my pleasure, although, I am confused as to why geologists would be interested in Himiko. We do not have many interests in your field of study.” Kanagawa folded his hands and smiled politely.

  Travis felt distinctly under-dressed for the occasion in his crumpled shirt, stubble and jeans.

  “Well, you do have interests in quartz mining here in Tochigi Prefecture, and we’d like to know more about the geological topography from someone in the know, as it were,” Savannah smoothly replied. “We’re especially interested in similar silicon-oxygen tetrahedral deposits in Japan, how much the deposits are, where they are, and so on.”

  Kanagawa’s smile seemed to waver slightly, but remained in its fixed, friendly position.

  “Well, Ms. Summers, as you know so much about my company, you may be aware that we only use quartz for electronics, so I am, unfortunately, unaware of the exact details of the geological make-up of the area. Japan has very strict environmental legislation on mining; for over a hundred years since the Ashio copper mine incident, and especially now since Fukushima... it is difficult to mine anything. I would advise you speak to the Geological Survey of Japan, they have offices in Tokyo. Now, if you would excuse me, I must get back to my business. It was a pleasure to meet you. My secretary will show you out. Please, take my business card, if I can help you any further.”

  Kinagawa gave a cursory bow and exited the room as the same young secretary from the front desk entered, and politely ushered Savannah and Travis out.

  Outside the Himiko Corporation offices, rain was falling gently from slate autumnal skies. Savannah pointed out a noodle shop across the street, and the two lecturers quickly crossed and entered. Travis ordered food, but by the time they had found a place to sit in the crowded restaurant, filled with people escaping the rain like them, he noticed that Savannah had not said one word.

  “Okay Sav, what have I done now?” He was getting pretty sick of the silent treatment.

  “Guilty conscience, have you?” Savannah smiled at him, “For once, it’s not about you. Did you pay any attention at all to what was said in there? Or rather, what wasn’t said?”

  “Can’t say that I did. How do you know so much about quartz anyway?” Travis was silently impressed with Savannah’s ability to speak competently on things that were wildly outside of her field of study.

  “For a university lecturer, you really don’t read much. We do have Wi-Fi in the hotel rooms, you know. That’s not important, anyway. Kinagawa cut the meeting short as soon as I asked him about quartz, you must know that amethyst is a kind of quartz, right? Good. Why would he do that? Only if he had something to hide.”

  Savannah looked infuriatingly pleased with herself, but Travis had to admit that she was probably right.

  “So, what’s the next step, genius?”

  He smiled to let her know it was in good humor.

  “Ryo Suzuki; we should talk to his family. And then check out this Nikko place and see the Amethyst Temple.”

  Finishing their noodles, which were far better than the slightly run down restaurant would suggest, Travis and Savannah wound their way back through the market quarter of Tochigi where they had spent so much time acquiring curios during their first few days. As they were crossing a street, Travis heard the high-pitched whine of over-revved motorcycles approaching from his right. His higher cognitive functions were still mulling the possibility that Kinagawa was really hiding something, but his instincts were for once sharp enough to grab Savannah by the arm and sprint for the far curb across the road. Rubber screeched on the wet tarmac, and as Savannah cried out in surprise he braced himself for the crunching metal crash he was sure would occur.

  It never came. As he turned around to see, he saw five motorcycles, each carrying a biker and a pillion passenger. The passengers were dismounting, and from heavy jackets they pulled a variety of cudgels and knives. One of the bikers hauled off his helmet, and pointed at T
ravis and Savannah. He yelled something in Japanese, and the next thing he knew Savannah was pulling his arm, and they were running as fast as they could, the bikers in pursuit on foot through the fully pedestrian market.

  Chapter Nine

  Shop fronts and small apartment tenements flew by in a blur as Travis and Savannah pushed themselves to bursting to stay ahead of their pursuers. It was no easy task, as while Savannah was in decent shape, Travis had not done any kind of exercise in months. His heart was about to bore a hole through his chest, and spots were exploding in negative iridescent colors in front of his eyes. Savannah dragged him by the hand to the left, and they ran down a side street, the bikers a mere forty feet or so behind, fighting their way through the crowd of busy morning shoppers. They were having significantly more trouble moving as a group, and several pedestrians found themselves flung to the floor in the commotion; the braver or more foolhardy ones rising to shout their annoyance at the thugs.

  The narrow alley was overhung by low rooftops, and almost entirely blocked with wheelbarrows and bicycles, no doubt left there by market traders who would not need them until the end of their business day. Savannah cleanly vaulted a handcart; Travis was following as best he could when he recognized a face peeking out of one of the doors that lined the tiny side street. This surprised him, as he knew fairly few faces in this country, but he was unmistakable. It was Ryo Suzuki, beckoning them towards him. Before he could shout to attract Savannah’s attention, she had seen Ryo herself and nearly barreled the boy over due to her flat out speed. Travis caught up, slipped into the doorway and Ryo shut and bolted it behind them.

  “How did you—” Savannah began, but Ryo pressed his finger to his lips, and gestured for them to follow him. They were in what looked to be a green grocer’s storeroom; sacks of onions, cases of what looked like komatsuna, daikon and what looked like some kind of long green chili pepper were neatly stacked near the doorway they had entered, and a pair of single dim bulbs illuminated the room enough for them to see that there was a shuttered door that was clearly for delivery vans to back into at one end, and a wooden stair case leading up. Ryo pointed to the stair case, and as quietly as they could, Savannah and Travis followed him. The stairs led to a long attic space, underneath the slate roofs of the buildings that formed the walls of the alleyway they had just come down. On hands and knees, although Ryo could make it through by crouching, they made their way slowly and conscious of any stray sound, although Travis was sure that the bustle outside would cover any stray steps they would make. He was still panting hard, and his shirt was slicked with sweat. He had no idea who the thugs were, but they had shouted something which had sparked Savannah’s flight.

  Ryo opened a small hatch in the floor some fifty feet away from the stairs they had come up on, quickly lowered a small wooden ladder, and disappeared down to ground floor level again. By this point, they had kicked up enough dust that their clothes were covered in it and it had congealed with their sweat to leave an unpleasant paste on their foreheads. It was in this state that they followed Ryo down the ladder, and into a well-lit house, which was clearly not the abode of a rich person, but it seemed homely. Ryo was talking fast to someone in another room.

  “Savannah, tell me please,” Travis said.” What the hell is going on, and who the hell were those guys?”

  “I don’t know. They just shouted “there they are” and “get them” and it was clear that sticking around to chat wasn’t on the agenda. Somehow I don’t think they were Mormon missionaries.”

  Despite the exertion and the sweat, Ryo came back in the room to find his two unannounced guests in fits of laughter. With him was an ancient woman, less than five feet tall. Right behind her was a man who, if anything, looked even older. The elderly lady was wearing a simple black shift, her thinning hair pulled back in a bun and held firmly in place with a pair of chopsticks. The man wore a cheap brown suit that looked at least as old as Travis, if not Travis’ father. The elderly lady sat on a small futon, and gestured for Savannah and Travis to do the same. The old man remained standing, supporting himself with a cane.

  Before Ryo could make introductions, Travis wanted some answers. He wasn’t sure if he was being rude or not according to the local custom, but he did not care.

  “Ryo, where in hell are we? Who were those men?”

  Ryo held his hands up in a placating gesture, Travis noticed his hands were still bunched, adrenaline still pumping through his system. He unclenched his fists.

  “Mr. Travis, you are in the home of my grandparents, Megumi Iwate,” he gestured to the old woman, “and Masahiko Iwate. You will be safe here.”

  The old man seemed to not be fully aware of the strangers in his house.

  Ryo continued, “My mother is working in her vegetable stall. I was getting some supplies from the storerooms for her, when I saw the yakuza chasing you. They’re not really yakuza though, that’s just what they call themselves.”

  Ryo shook his head, a sad smile on his face. His eyes were partly shielded by his baseball cap sitting low on his brow.

  “So what did they want with us?” Savannah said, “I wouldn’t think we’d be prime targets for a mugging in broad daylight.”

  Ryo actually laughed.

  “Don’t you remember what I said? I told you not to go and pull the tail of the Himiko people. The gang works for them, putting pressure on the independent shop keepers to sell their property to Himiko, beating up those that refuse, that kind of thing. The police are paid to leave them alone so long as they don’t get too crazy. Looks like you asked the wrong questions.”

  The boy removed his baseball cap and shook out his hair, which was surprisingly long and unkempt for a boy of his age. Dusting himself down a little, trying not to get too much on the futon, Travis looked at the elderly couple, then back to Ryo.

  “Well, all that tells me is this; the mine is real. Kinagawa made a grave mistake. If there was no mine, and he doesn’t have the deed in his possession, then why would his goons come after us? It would have been a smarter move to just let us fumble around in the dark, but now we know that we’re on to something.” He looked back at the Iwate couple. “Do they speak English? Do they know anything about the amethyst mine?”

  Ryo shook his head.

  “My grandfather doesn’t speak much at all even in Japanese, and it’s usually not very clear what he says. Grandmother has dementia, but she’s happy enough. I can ask them about the mine, but don’t be hopeful.”

  Ryo turned to his grandfather, and spoke slowly to him. Savannah and Travis took the opportunity to have a hushed conversation of their own.

  “I don’t like how quick Kinagawa was to sanction the use of force,” Savannah said, “It betrays a certain sense of megalomania; crush your enemies swiftly, and so on. We have to be more cautious.”

  “We have to get the hell out of Tochigi, you mean.” Travis said.

  Ryo had turned back to them. The boy looked confused, and a little sad.

  “Mizaru, Kikazaru and Iwazaru go to meet Izanami with glad hearts, he says. I don’t know what he means by that, I told you he doesn’t speak much. He’s been like this for as long as I can remember.”

  “Who are Mizaru, Kikazaru and… who?” Travis said.

  This was futile, he felt, talking to a senile green grocer while armed thugs stalked the streets looking for them.

  “Izanami! Nikko! Izanami! Nikko!” The old man chanted, waving his wizened paws like scales in the air.

  “Nikko? The Amethyst Temple?” Savannah said.

  Travis was struck by an idea.

  “Ryo, we need to get out of Tochigi. We can’t stay here while these men are looking for us. Do you have a car we can use?”

  If they could get out to Nikko, the thugs may well assume that he and Savannah had been scared off completely.

  “We have an old delivery van, it’s slow but it should get us there,” Ryo said. “If you’re going to Nikko, you’ll need my help, right?”

 
; Savannah and Travis looked at each other, unable to think of a reason to leave Ryo behind.

  “Good. I can’t drive, so I’ll read the map, ok?”

  The boy grinned broadly. It was an adventure for him, Travis thought. Considering adventure is what he signed up for, he didn’t feel like this one was turning out in any way that he had expected.

  Chapter Ten

  Try as they might, Mr. Iwate would not expound on what he meant by ‘Mizaru, Kikazaru and Iwazaru go to meet Izanami with glad hearts’, but only muttered the name of the town of Nikko a few more times, before shuffling off to make some tea. More confused than ever, Savannah and Travis cleaned themselves up as best they could, and returned to find Ryo dressed for winter in thick coat, gloves and instead of his familiar red baseball cap he had put on a warm looking winter hat. He held in his hands two old but serviceable padded jackets, which on trying fitted Savannah and Travis reasonably well.

  “Nikko is quite high in the mountains; it is not uncommon for snow to come at this time of year,” Ryo said.

  Bidding farewell to Ryo’s grandparents; Mrs. Iwate still completely silent and the senile Mr. Iwate trying to hold on to Ryo to tell him something that seemed important, yet only succeeding in flustering himself a little more, the unlikely team made their way cautiously the short distance to the delivery van Ryo had promised. Something was tickling in Travis’ mind alongside the paranoid fear that he could hear approaching motorcycle engines. The van was an ancient Toyota, rusted and well-worn, but it started the first time Savannah turned the key. The front seats were big enough for the three of them to fit on, which was fortunate as there were no back seats at all, just a flatbed with sidings which still had a couple of wooden pallets on it. Travis pushed a toy monkey on a loop of elastic from its position where it slightly obscured the rear view mirror.