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Annja frowned again. “Just how long have you been around?”
“Would you believe three months?” Ken hoped his smile was disarming enough to distract her from the length of time.
Annja’s eyes went wide. “Three months? You’ve been following me all over the world for the past twelve weeks?”
Ken smirked. “And you thought you were exhausted. I could do with a healthy spell of sleep myself.”
Annja crossed her arms. “I can’t believe it.”
“I know what you’re thinking. How could this Japanese dude actually follow me around the world without me noticing him? After all, I’m pretty aware. I can sense things to some extent.”
Annja whipped her head around. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Had he just touched a nerve? Ken filed it away for the moment. “Only that you are, for the most part, an extremely aware woman. But even those who think they are aware usually have gaps in their defenses. Those gaps can be exploited. In this case, it enabled me to remain invisible despite your attentiveness.”
“How?”
Ken shrugged. “Let’s take your recent trip to Marrakech.”
“You were there, too?” Annja shook her head. “I don’t believe this.”
“You stopped at a stall in the market to buy a mango. Do you remember?”
He watched her eyes track to the lower left. He could see her recalling the moment in her head. Vaguely, she nodded.
“It was pretty hot that day. The sun blazed overhead like a blast furnace. I thought I might melt under my robes. But luckily, you didn’t stay that long and I was able to shed my garb and move inside to cooler environs.”
“But where were you?”
“Across the way. You bought the mango and some dates, if I recall. I was at the stall with the cheap necklaces.”
He saw recognition flash across her face. “That was you?”
“With makeup, but yes.”
“Those necklaces were awful knockoffs.”
“That was deliberate. I knew you would never waste any time looking at them. You’d be able to pick them out as bad forgeries from a mile away and therefore not waste any time on my stall. I could easily watch you without fear of you becoming suspicious about me. To you, I was simply another would-be con man trying to hawk some ridiculous goods to the naive.”
“And that, I suppose, was the gap in my defenses?” He saw her smile in spite of herself.
Ken nodded. “You see? I was in plain sight, but so apparently not a threat or of interest to you that you simply didn’t even catalog me except way, way back in the furthest reaches of your consciousness. True invisibility exists, but not the way that most people believe it would. By being obviously ridiculous without making a spectacle of myself, I faded from your mind.”
Annja nodded and Ken felt that she just might have some appreciation for the techniques he’d learned so many years ago.
“It’s actually pretty impressive,” she said.
Ken smiled. “If I had meant you any harm, Annja, please believe me when I tell you I could have easily done something to you much earlier than this. There’s absolutely no reason for me to make myself an obvious threat to you now. I’d be almost leveling the playing field by doing so.”
Annja’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “Almost leveling?”
Ken smiled again. “You’re good. Don’t get me wrong.”
“But you’re better. Is that it?”
Ken held up his hands. “I will plead the fifth, as you Americans say.”
Annja smiled. “Yeah. Well, we’ll see. Why don’t you take me back to my hotel? I could use a good sleep.”
Ken pulled the car away from the curb, relieved to have seemingly defused any suspicion that Annja might feel toward him. In her place, Ken would have felt exactly the same way. He might have even reacted more aggressively, taking out the potential threat rather than allowing it to continue to exist even for another few hours.
But Annja Creed was not like him. And that was why Ken felt sure she would make the perfect aide in his quest to find the sacred Yumegakure-ryu vajra . Her knowledge and ability would keep them in good stead.
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 , then you’re going to tell me exactly what the hell 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 Japanese 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 button 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 Japanese 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. Japan 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 truly did exist still and Annja had a chance to see a class 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 to her arsenal 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.
It was time to get out of the tub.
Instead of doing it as quietly as she could, Annja engaged a different strategy. She started to whistle.
“That felt good,” she said as she stood and stepped out of the tub.
The door to the bathroom was closed almost all the way, except for a gap of about five inches. Annja braced herself behind the door in case they rushed the bathroom. But she didn’t think they would. If they’d meant her harm, they would have already come into the bathroom when she was far too vulnerable.
She felt for the towel hanging on the hook and then mopped at her hair and shoulders.
Still whistling, she tried to figure how best to wrap the towel so she could fight if necessary.
The hell with it, she thought, frowning. If someone wants to throw down right now, being naked might just help my cause and give me a split second to get the upper hand.
So much for modesty. She almost grinned. Too bad the cameras weren’t rolling now. This would earn her top ratings for Chasing History’s Monsters in a way that bimbo Kristie Chatham never could.
Annja took a deep breath and flushed her system with oxygen. Adrenaline flooded her body as it readied itself for a fight. She flexed her fists and steeled her will.
And then stepped out of the bathroom.
Her room was empty.
Annja noticed that her stomach was more relaxed now.
Were they gone?
She shivered in the cooler air of the room. She felt certain someone had been here. And she’d been getting reacquainted with her long-lost primal instincts enough to place some trust in them when they warned her of danger. Somewhat. Annja was the first to admit that she still had a lot of trouble having one hundred percent faith in her instincts. Especially when her logical mind seemed ready to always mount a good argument for why she shouldn’t.
Someone had been in the room.
But now they were gone.
Annja knelt and checked under the bed and at the base of the simple curtain framing her window. She carefully checked the closet, as well. Otherwise, there was no place to hide in the Spartan room.
She frowned again. A cursory glance around told her that they hadn’t taken anything. Her laptop still sat open on the desktop, although the screensaver was bouncing around from a lack of activity. Annja’s bags sat unopened next to her bed. And her cell phone and purse remained near the door.
Weird.
She padded back to the bathroom and toweled herself dry before pulling on a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. Then she walked around her room again before ending up at the window.
Annja’s room was on the fifteenth floor of the hotel. From her window she could see the Tokyo skyline outlined in the dazzling colors of the neon spectrum. The city shone so brightly that Annja could pick out very few stars in the sky.
Her window wasn’t locked.
I know I checked that lock earlier, she thought to herself. Being a native New Yorker, Annja was nothing if not security conscious. All doors and windows were always locked behind her whenever she was home. And that habit stayed with her no matter where she traveled.
But now, her window was unlocked.
She slid it back on the rails and found it could open wide enough to enable someone to get through it.
