by Anne Stuart
But that meant leaving Summer to the Shirosama’s tender mercies.
It all came down to this—one woman or the thousands, tens of thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands. Ensuing chaos would raise the death toll higher still.
Takashi had no choice, and he’d always known it. This was one reason he’d tried so hard not to care about anyone, one reason why he’d known immediately just how dangerous Summer Hawthorne could be. Because now she was the one he couldn’t sacrifice, couldn’t walk away from, no matter how high the stakes. He could die for what he believed in. He just couldn’t let her die as well.
Reno was watching him, his expression unreadable in the darkness as Taka made his way silently to his side. “Take out the plane,” Taka said. “Kill anyone who tries to board it, anyone who tries to leave. I don’t care who they are. We can’t let them get away with these weapons.”
“You going after her?”
“Yes.”
“You got any more guns?”
Taka opened his backpack, pulling out the carefully wrapped urn, then dumped the rest of the contents on the ground in front of his cousin before putting the bowl back in.
“Wait. You’re going to need something,” Reno protested.
“If I bring a weapon, they’ll just take it from me. I have my hands. I know how to use them.”
“Crazy motherfucker,” his cousin muttered. “Bring her back with you, and we’ll all fly out of here.”
“I don’t see how that’s going to happen.”
Reno grinned in the dim light. “It’ll happen. After you save the world, my noble cousin. Go off and rescue her. I’ll take care of things on this end.”
Taka stared at him for a long moment. Reno had been the only brother he’d known, and he’d brought him up here to almost certain death. And he looked to be having the time of his life. Taka hugged him tightly and then headed off into the darkness, leaving the landing field far behind.
Summer was freezing. She considered complaining, but the last time she’d mentioned it Brother Heinrich had slammed her in the ribs. No one really gave a damn whether she froze to death or not, which suggested that she was going to die no matter what. Well, she wasn’t going to make it easy for them.
She also had no intention of shutting up, and the nasty Brother Heinrich had forgotten to bring more duct tape up this icy mountain with him. He’d tried slapping the old stuff on, but it didn’t stick, and any gag he forced in her mouth she simply spat out again. He’d been getting to the point where she half expected him to shove his fist down her throat in order to keep her quiet, when the Shirosama admonished him, sending him off on some errand or another while Summer hunkered down on the frozen ground, waiting. Waiting for God knows what.
“You shouldn’t annoy Brother Heinrich, my child,” His Sliminess said in his rich, hypnotic voice. “He has far to go in his search for enlightenment, and I am grieved to say he often falls into his old ways. It distresses him when anyone fails to show me the proper honor.”
“He’ll have to get used to it,” she retorted with her best approximation of a snarl. “You still haven’t told me why you brought me up here. You know I don’t have the urn anymore. And any number of people have figured out where this place is. They’ll be coming for me.”
“That is exactly what I am counting on. Takashi O’Brien will bring me the urn in exchange for your safety, and then the rite of ascension can proceed as predetermined.”
“You’re crazy,” Summer said, not bothering to consider that might not be the wisest thing to say to someone who really was insane. “Taka’s not going to trade the urn for me. I’m just part of a job, and that job is protecting the urn. You already pointed out he’s been trying to kill me ever since he met me. Why should he suddenly be willing to risk everything just to save me?”
The Shirosama’s smile made the temperature drop lower still. “Because I know that he will. It goes against his principles, but he will come for you, and he will bring me the urn, and the Ceremony of Ascension can be performed.”
“And you’ll let the two of us walk down the mountain to safety, right?” she scoffed. “You think Taka believes that for a moment?”
“Of course not. But he is willing to take the risk for you.”
“According to you, the man keeps trying to kill me. He’s finally gotten what he’s been after for days, and you think he’d throw it all away for me? You’re even more deluded than I thought you were.”
“Poor child,” he said. “I am almost infallible. After tonight I will be infallible.”
“And what if Taka ignores your message and doesn’t give a shit what you do with me?”
“I am a practical man. You left an excellent forgery behind. We brought the fake with us. On the television no one will be able to tell that it’s not the real Hayashi Urn. And I’ll let Brother Heinrich finish what he started. A fitting climax to his short life.”
“A climax? He’s going to die as well?”
“Miss Hawthorne, we’re all going to die.”
She stared at him. “Yes, eventually.”
“No, tonight. The cleansing will unfold as it was written. People everywhere toil and suffer needlessly, only to die in pain and loss. I am here to free people from that endless wheel of karma and sorrow. And my followers will join me, happily.”
“And what about the people who don’t follow you? Are they going to join you, too?”
“The only way to save the world is to destroy it.”
“You’re as crazy as that nut-job who gassed the Tokyo subways.”
A faint frown tugged at his mouth. “The Aum Shinrikyo were too rushed, though their vision was correct. The time had not yet come. That time is now.”
Summer felt a new chill sweep down her back-bone. She tried to rally. “Are you going to be an evil overlord and tell me your plans?”
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s an American joke. The evil overlord, thinking he has the hero at his mercy, tells him his evil plans, and then, when the hero gets free, he’s able to thwart those plans.”
“Ah, Miss Hawthorne. I am no evil overlord, I am the blessed incarnation of hope for mankind. And you are not the hero—you are simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Telling you what will happen will make no difference, even if karma decrees that you somehow manage to escape. It’s too late to stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“In less than an hour a cargo plane will arrive, filled with scientists and soldiers, the best of my disciples. They will take the crates of drugs and gases and fly them out of here. They’ll be distributed and shipped to other followers in all corners of the world. Armageddon will commence.”
“And what will happen to us? Do we go with them?”
He shook his head, and the white hair floated gently onto his rounded shoulders. “While the cameras are rolling, I will place the ashes and bones of my ancestor back into his ancestral urn. Then I will commit seppuku, my blood mixing with his ashes, and be reborn.”
“Sounds like a mess to me.”
The Shirosama’s beatific expression faltered for a moment. “Brother Heinrich will serve as my kaishkunin and release my head from my body, then open the gas canisters. In the open air the toxins will take a bit longer to diffuse than I could have wished, but even as the cameraman falls, the camera will keep filming, and the world will see the lengths the divine are willing to go to in order to ensure the salvation of this world.”
“But you’ll be dead. How will you know it worked?”
“Death is just another stage on the road of life.”
“Oh, please. You’ll be dead, the rest of us will be dead, and we’ll look like some pathetic mini-Jonestown. In the meantime Taka and whoever he works for will intercept your nasty little shipment and it won’t even get out of Japan.”
The Shirosama had the most awful smile—the only part about him that wasn’t white were his stained, broken teeth. “Perhaps,” he allowed. “If that is wha
t is meant to be. But I think your Taka is going to be otherwise engaged, and unable to interfere with my well-structured plans.”
“And why do you think that?”
“Because he is here already. I can’t see him, but I can sense his presence. Surely you aren’t more blind than I am?”
She whipped her head around. She and the Shirosama were sitting in a clearing, surrounded by four small, newly constructed torii gates, a burning fire and banks of lights set up to illuminate the upcoming production. She’d been left alone with him, and if she’d had any sense she would have worked harder to get the paring knife out of her bra. They hadn’t found the weapon when they’d changed her clothing; she could still feel it digging into the side of her breast, and in front of a blind man she could have worked on loosening it, cutting her bonds, cutting his throat.
Now it was too late. Three men were approaching, two of them the Shirosama’s white-clad goons. And between them was Takashi O’Brien, carrying the Hayashi Urn in his hands.
25
“If you don’t want the real urn smashed into a thousand pieces you’ll tell your boys to take their hands off me.” His voice cool and calm, Taka seemed unmoved by the monks on either side of him. He didn’t even glance her way, which was a relief. Summer looked at him and didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry.
He’d been trying to kill her. She knew it—somehow she’d always known it—even as she’d kept pushing the thought out of her mind. He was like a poisonous snake, seducing her as he lured her toward death. She had no idea why Taka kept saving her, why he changed his mind. She wasn’t even sure it mattered. Those were the beautiful hands that had held her underwater till she began to drown. That had tightened around her throat. The same beautiful hands had touched her, loved her, shattered and redeemed her.
The Shirosama rose to his full height, coming up to Taka’s chest, and held out his arms. “Give me the urn,” he breathed.
Taka dropped it.
Brother Heinrich dived for the bowl, catching it just before it hit the frozen dirt, and the cult leader stepped back in distaste. “That is not the way to rescue your young woman, Brother Takashi,” he intoned, clearly disappointed.
“Don’t call me that.” Taka’s voice was low, deadly.
“Why not? You know as well as I do,” the Shirosama replied in that soft, singsong voice, “that you really want to be one of us. But you are afraid to listen to your heart, Brother Takashi. Listen to it now. Join us. It’s not too late. Don’t waste your time trying to stop me—I’m unstoppable.”
Summer couldn’t keep from watching Taka’s face, his treacherously beautiful visage. “I’ve brought you the urn,” he said. “Now give me the girl and we’ll get out of here.”
“Do not be foolish, child,” he said. “You know I was never going to let you take her. Surely you couldn’t have been that naive.”
There was no expression in Taka’s dark eyes as he stared down at the guru. “Anything is possible,” he said. “You might have become a man of your word.”
“My word is the sacred word of God,” he said.
“And God told you to kidnap a helpless American and murder thousands of people?”
“No one is being murdered. The world is being cleansed. Baptized, if you like. Only the most trusted will accompany me on my final journey.”
Taka’s eyes narrowed. “What final journey?”
“You don’t think I would ask such a sacrifice of my followers if I were not willing to make the same sacrifice, do you?”
“I think you’re a lying, devious psychopath who comes up with justifications for everything he does.”
“And I think it is time you joined your friend,” he replied. “The new moon is upon us, and everything is in place. Do you hear that?”
“The plane? I heard it. I’m assuming more of your goons have come to pick up your little packages of poison to deliver around the world.”
“My strongest followers are coming to bring freedom to all corners of the globe.”
“The earth is round, your holiness.”
“With no place to hide,” he murmured. “Tie him up, Brother Heinrich, and let him sit with the woman he tried to kill.”
He didn’t react. Taka’s very lack of guilt was even more telling than a protest. Brother Heinrich bound his arms and legs, roughly, and shoved him down on the ground, against Summer, so that she almost fell over. She scooted away from him quickly, refusing to look at him.
“You see?” the Shirosama murmured. “I told her you were the one who held her under the water, that you were planning to kill her. Even now, you probably believe your best course is to silence her. It doesn’t matter. Before long you will both be silenced, and perhaps you’ll both do better in the next life.”
Taka said nothing, pulling himself into a sitting position. “You brainwashed her so quickly? I would have thought she’d give you more trouble than that.”
“I told her the truth, and she saw it for what it was,” he replied. “Brother Heinrich, go to the plane and make certain it’s loaded and the disciples are on board. Then return to me with the final packet of medicine. I need to be certain everything is going according to plan before we take the final steps.”
Brother Heinrich disappeared into the darkness, but not before glaring at Taka. The Shirosama seemed to have forgotten about both prisoners. He’d begun chanting, some strange mixture of languages that held few words Summer had ever heard, as he sprinkled gray dust on the fire in front of him, followed by the same cloying incense. White-robed brothers began to emerge from the surrounding forest, some carrying weapons, some unarmed. They lay their guns in a pile and moved to form a circle around the Shirosama, taking up the same nonsensical chant.
When Taka had been thrown against Summer the knife had been knocked loose from her bra, and was now beneath her loose shirt. With her hands bound behind her there was no way she could reach it. She would have to count on her would-be murderer.
“Your holiness!” She raised her voice, forcing herself to sound tearful and supplicatory. “If we are to die, would you let me kiss him one last time?”
She half expected Taka to react to her uncharacteristic behavior, but he didn’t move, didn’t look at her. He was kneeling in the frozen dirt beside her, every inch of him alert, and she was probably the least of his concerns.
“You want to kiss the man who tried to kill you? You are a very foolish young woman,” the Shirosama said. “Go ahead.”
Taka turned to her, his eyes dark and unreadable, waiting. She reached up, put her mouth against his and whispered, “I have a knife that’s fallen down the front of my shirt, you son of a bitch. See if you can get it.” The feel of his lips against hers was agony. The sickness deep inside her was that she wanted to kiss him anyway, no matter what he’d done.
A moment later he’d flung himself at her knees, babbling a mixture of contrition and love. Somehow, in the darkness, and even with his hands tied, he managed to reach up under her flowing shirt and grab the knife.
The Shirosama’s half-blind eyes were turned in their direction, an expression of distaste on his face. “I misjudged both of you,” he said. “You are unworthy of the great honor I chose to give you.”
“What great honor?” Summer asked. Taka was still doing a creditable job of being collapsed in grief and hopeless love, and she needed to hold the Shirosama’s attention while Taka worked on their bonds.
“The great honor of dying with me, Miss Hawthorne. Your mother would appreciate it and as one of my most generous supporters, she would have had that honor. But someone took her away and I’ve had more important things to do than try to find her.”
“Like kidnap my sister?” Summer shot back. Taka was still now, and she kept waiting for him to lean toward her, to do something about the bonds that were slowly cutting off the circulation in her arms.
But the Shirosama was no longer interested in arguing with her, or anyone. “Drag them out of the circle, Brother Shiny
a. They can watch from a distance.”
Shit, Summer thought, as one of the brethren advanced toward them. He would see that Taka had gotten his hands on a knife, and their last hope of escape would be gone.
But she underestimated the brother’s dislike of the unclean, particularly women. He came to stand over them, an expression of disgust on his pale face as if he were enduring a bad smell. “Move back,” he ordered them.
With their hands and feet tied, it was a difficult maneuver requiring a crablike effort, but Summer had given up dignity long ago, along with trust, love and the remote possibility of a happy ending. She’d put her faith in a murderer.
They moved back, a good five feet out of the circle, and the brethren took their places, kneeling in a semicircle around the Shirosama. He’d set the urn on the antique kimono, and at another time Summer would have cried out at the sacrilege.
They must have taken it when they’d kidnapped her. If Reno had only left the urn behind this would all be over, for her at least. They would have had everything they wanted and she would probably be dead. If Taka didn’t get his shit together she wasn’t going to be alive to care about antique kimono or ancient ceramics or anything at all.
For that matter, even if he did, there was no guarantee that he was going to bother to save her.
The Shirosama arranged himself in a meditative position, and then nothing happened. The chanting stopped, and they all just waited, in silence.
A moment later Brother Heinrich reappeared in the firelight. “They’re here, your holiness. Brother Neville and his wife have seen to the loading of the plane, and the advance force is already aboard. They wish your blessing before they depart on their holy mission.”
“Of course,” he said graciously. “Bring them to me, that I may touch them and send them on their way.” He turned his face toward Summer and Taka. “Brother Neville is one of England’s top scientists, an expert in biochemical weapons, and he allows his wife to assist him. Devoted followers like them assure the success of my vision. Death is nothing more than the gateway to paradise, and my followers embrace that truth. My people are everywhere—there is no way to stop what must happen.”