Part 25 (1/2)

Okay, world, I'm good andready. Do your worst... The worst the world had to offer was another slow night-ride. But now there were only nine ronin. n.o.buro was one of those who had gone missing, leaving his two sidekicks to head the column. Steve, whose saddle-sore b.u.t.t was soon sending out a new wave of distress signals, switched his thoughts away from the means of locomotion and tried to work out what might lie ahead.

Even without understanding the language, it was obvious to him that Clearwater and her two minders had been set free and left to find their own way home. But what had been the point of the exercise? From the little she had been able to tell him, Steve knew she was now the 'body-slave' of one of the top Iron Masters; a certain Nakane Toh-s.h.i.+ba who had just moved into the No. 1 spot on Steve's. .h.i.t list. He also knew she had been transported across Ne-Issan in conditions of great secrecy, had sailed with Yama-s.h.i.+ta to the trading post and had then been put back in the box for return to Toh-s.h.i.+ba. At which point, n.o.buro's ronin had spoiled everything with their raid on the convoy: a convoy which also contained two long-dogs. Clearwater had only caught a fleeting glimpse of them, but she had seen enough. The itinerant duo were Jodi Kazan and Dave Kelso, en route for the Heron Pool where Cadillac was now busily at work trying to build imitation Skyhawks.

But not for much longer, amigo. Your old friend Stevie, who you so kindly shafted by first picking his brains, then a.s.suming his ident.i.ty, is aiming to throw a nice big spanner right in the works.

Thanks to Clearwater, Steve now had three names to work with: Yama-s.h.i.+ta, old Golden Nose, who had set up the deal with Mr Snow; Min-Orota, another high-wire in whose domain the Heron Pool was located and who, apparently, was funding the operation; and Nakane Toh-s.h.i.+ba, the j.a.p who now 'owned' Clearwater. He was some kind of top-level government official based in Min-Orota's territory.

Three interesting pieces that all linked together, but how did they fit into the rest of the puzzle? Steve had coaxed n.o.buro into admitting he was an agent of 'those who have an interest in this matter': his exact words.

Was that the purpose of this present journey - to meet the person, or persons, running what amounted to a covert operation against the trio led by Yamas.h.i.+ta?

As the column continued its slow progress across the forested terrain, threading its way from one dimly lit clearing to the next Steve mulled over the known elements of the present situation. If a meeting did materialise he had to look and sound confident, and be poised to exploit any opportunity that presented itself. If he failed to make the right connections, he was unlikely to get another chance. The biggest problem was his crippling lack of knowledge of the present set-up inside Ne-Issan. Without these facts it was virtually impossible to figure out who was doing what to whom. He had to rely on the winning combination that had served him so well in the past: intuition - his elusive sixth sense, the voice that sometimes made itself heard in the recesses of his mind, and his incredible luck what Mr Snow and Clearwater kept calling the will of Talisman.

The more Steve thought about it, the more evident it became that it was Clearwater, not Cadillac, who was the key element in the equation. For reasons he did not yet fully understand, her transformation from patterned gra.s.s-monkey to clear-skinned long-dog had made her a valuable a.s.set; a prize that Yama-s.h.i.+ta and his friends had gone to considerable lengths to conceal. But why.”?

What made her so different from all the other Tracker renegades held prisoner in Ne-Issan? Was it because she was the only female, apart from Jodi, that had fallen into their hands.”? Or was it because this Nakane Tohs.h.i.+ba found her as stunning to look at as he did.”? Was it the j.a.p's present physical relations.h.i.+p with Clearwater that was the cause of all this clandestine activity.”? Was Tohs.h.i.+ba breaking the rules - and were his friends Yama-s.h.i.+ta and Min-Orota involved in the coverup?

The raid on the convoy was proof that' somebody was on their case: somebody with sufficient clout and resources to employ close on a hundred 'ronin' operating from a secure, well-established base-camp.

That 'somebody' Mr X - was opposed to or, at the very least, concerned about what was going on: concerned enough to gamble men's lives in order to find out who was behind the mask.

And powerful enough to command the loyalty of men prepared to die, as more than forty of them had, in order to satisfy his curiosity. n.o.buro had asked Clearwater no questions; the house-women had been ignored.

He had merely inspected his hard-won prize and, to judge from his outward reaction, had not been overly surprised to find what looked ike a long-dog, clothed in Iron Master finery.

Steve thought back over what Side-Winder, his fellow-Mexican, had told him about Ne-Issan, searching for clues as to who 'Mr X' might be.

Toh-s.h.i.+ba, the j.a.p now waiting to repossess Clearwater's body, was a government high-wire. Yama-s.h.i.+ta and Min-Orota were domain-lords.

Were they plotting something.”? Were the aircraft that Cadillac was attempting to build to be used in a bid to seize power.”? Side-Winder had talked of an 'undercurrent of conspiracy'. Were they plotting against other domain-lords or ... against the government.”?

Could the 'someone' whose ident.i.ty Steve was trying to establish.

could 'Mr X' be... the Shogun.”?

Steve felt his brain quiver as he came to this realisation.

It was as if an ice-cool electric current had suddenly connected all of his several billion brain cells.

Yep... that's how it plays, Brickman. You just hit the jackpot.

The column halted. Two ronin appeared out of the darkness and untied Steve's wrists and feet. Through the trees, Steve could just make out several faint points of orange light arranged in a regular cl.u.s.ter.

From his scavenging expeditions he knew they came from the lighted windows of dwelling places. This, then, was the rendezvous point.

The two ronin brought Steve to the head of the column where n.o.buro Naka-Jima now stood illuminated by a thin ray of light from a masked lantern. He had dispensed with the ragtag look and was now dressed like a man of some distinction. He wore a black outfit trimmed with blue.

Several white word-signs and symbols were arranged across the chest and back of his jacket. His bald head was partly covered by a wig swept up at the back into the top-knot that was the exclusive hallmark of the samurai.

'You will now take off clothes and wash body,' he said, pointing to a wooden bucket full of water.