Part 4 (1/2)

And Ken also appreciated how utterly beautiful she was. What he liked the most was how unaffected she was by her natural beauty. Briefly, he wondered if she might think him handsome. Just as quickly, he pushed the thought out of his mind. He needed to stay focused if he had any hope of recovering the artifact before the others did.

”Are you going to tell me why the Yakuza is so interested in you?” Annja said.

The question jolted him. Ken struggled to come up with a response and instead chuckled. ”So much for a segue.”

Annja stared at him. Something had changed. Ken could see it in her eyes. There was a hard edge there, way back, but present nonetheless. ”What happened at the restaurant, it was more than a chance encounter. Those thugs were waiting for you,” she said.

”Are you asking or saying?”

”I'm saying. It's a fact,” Annja said.

”Maybe.”

”Were they waiting for me, too?”

”No.” Ken shook his head. ”Absolutely not.”

They pulled up to the hotel and Ken put the car into Park. Annja sat facing him.

”Ken, you seem like a nice enough guy. But I need to know what I'm getting mixed up in here. I don't like the thought of tangling with the Yakuza or even wanna-be Yakuza. If they're interested in you and I'm around, that will make me a target of opportunity, as well.”

”You don't strike me as being averse to danger. Some of your past adventures certainly contained far more danger than what I propose we undertake.”

She shrugged. ”I'm not necessarily averse to much. But I'd be a fool if I took all of this at face value.” She placed one hand on the door handle. ”You may not want to talk about it right now. That's fine. It's late and we're both tired.”

”Thanks-”

She looked at him. ”But we will talk about this. If you want my help finding this vajra vajra, then you're going to tell me exactly what the h.e.l.l is going on here. Otherwise, I will vanish and not even you will be able to find me again.”

She opened the door and strode off to the hotel entrance. Ken sat still in the car and then after another minute smiled slowly.

Annja Creed, he thought, you might just be my dream woman.

5.

Annja hunched over her laptop and started composing a post for alt.archaeology.esoterica-the newsgroup she favored so much for its candid information on many of the more obscure topics relating to history and relics. She hesitated, trying best to make sure she didn't come across sounding like a lunatic. After a moment, she sighed and typed:

Does anyone know anything about the j.a.panese martial art of Ninjitsu?

I've met someone claiming to be involved with this art and I'd like to know if they might be legit. Thanks!

She leaned back and crossed her arms. It could take hours before anyone would respond, giving Annja plenty of time to think over the night's events.

She decided on a long, hot soak in the deep tub that sat in the corner of her small bathroom. Everything in Tokyo seemed as if someone had pressed the reduce b.u.t.ton on a copy machine, but the tub looked large enough for her.

Annja padded into the bathroom and turned the spigot. A rush of hot water blossomed and streamed into the tub. In seconds, steam filled the air and Annja realized she was suddenly overdressed.

Outside in her room, she stripped down. With her pants and turtleneck off, she ran her eyes over her skin, doing a basic damage inspection from the tournament. Nezuma's kicks had left some nasty welts. She could see purplish bruising above her ribs and on the backs of her legs. His punches had also left souvenirs. She frowned. Someday, she'd get him back. And the idea of him flat on his back while she stood over him as a proud victor definitely appealed to her.

She walked into the bathroom and stepped into the piping-hot tub. She knew the j.a.panese favored hot baths for their health benefits and the relaxation they provided. Annja gritted her teeth, wanting to enjoy the hot water but also aware that it felt as if she were burning the skin off her bones.

She withdrew her leg, emptied out some of the contents and then added cold water. After another minute, she tried getting in the tub again and this time found that she could stand the heat.

As she sank into the bath and let the water come up to her jaw, Annja closed her eyes and tried to breathe deeply, allowing the stress of the day to melt away. She was tired and the steamy heat made her feel even more so. As she replayed the day's events, she found herself focusing on Ken and his strange past.

Certainly she hadn't come to Tokyo to get involved in the hunt for some relic. j.a.pan was supposed to be for herself only-away time from the stress and pace of her vigorous lifestyle. Not that fighting in a martial-arts tournament was the kind of prescription most vacation-bound folks would equate with rest and relaxation. But for Annja, it enabled her to play to some extent, without it being a matter of life and death. And since so much of her life lately had revolved around serious fighting, Annja also felt that any time spent practicing was time spent well.

”He is handsome, though.”

Annja's eyes popped open. Had she just said that out loud? A smile flickered across her face. Apparently the hot water was doing its job by relaxing her to the point she felt comfortable speaking out loud. Annja sank deeper into the water and grinned just beneath the surface.

She tilted her head back and rested it on the edge of the tub, her eyes still closed as the heat enveloped her. The way Ken had moved in the restaurant earlier played across the screen of her mind. Annja slowed the reel down and tried to study how he had managed to thwart the gang without even appearing to break a sweat.

Marvelous, she concluded.

If Annja had even a small percentage of the same skill, Nezuma would be the one nursing not just bruises, but his wounded ego, as well.

If ninjitsu ninjitsu truly did exist still and Annja had a chance to see a cla.s.s being taught, there was no way she'd turn down that opportunity. She didn't feel any particular obligation to one form of martial arts over another. She was far too pragmatic to get lost in the politics of that silly debate. Annja needed what worked; it was as simple as that. And if adding some truly did exist still and Annja had a chance to see a cla.s.s being taught, there was no way she'd turn down that opportunity. She didn't feel any particular obligation to one form of martial arts over another. She was far too pragmatic to get lost in the politics of that silly debate. Annja needed what worked; it was as simple as that. And if adding some ninjitsu ninjitsu to her a.r.s.enal helped her stay alive, well, bring it on. to her a.r.s.enal helped her stay alive, well, bring it on.

A cool breeze suddenly blew over the room, scattering the blanket of steam that had hung about the tub like mist over a swamp.

Annja's eyes opened again.

Her stomach tensed.

Someone was in her room.

She could feel the air currents being disturbed. But she heard nothing. Whoever was inside the room, knew how to move in absolute silence. But movement-any movement-disturbed the air ever so slightly.

Annja wondered, could she move just as quietly and get out of the tub without them knowing?

She frowned. Not a chance.

The invaders must have known she was there. And depending on how long they'd been in the room, they might have even heard her say that line about Ken. It couldn't be Ken, could it? That was enough, she decided.