Jack remembered when the only folks who'd enter this park were junkies, pushers, and clueless tourists.
"No one will listen to me," Slater said.
"Who-what?"
"Neither Homeland Security nor the NYPD. I told them about the Kakureta Kao and the Black Wind but I could tell they thought I was nuts."
"Imagine that."
"You think I'm nuts too, don't you."
"I came here about the call, remember? We're after the katana, right?"
"Yeah, but—"
"The call?"
He sighed and handed his cell phone to Jack. "Okay, okay. I've already entered the service number. Listen to the voice as well as the content."
Jack hit the SEND button, punched in the code Slater gave him, and listened.
"Hello. My name is James and I saw your flyer. I have the sword you seek and I know it's a Masamune. So I want more than five thousand for it. I'll need twice that. Call me back if that is acceptable. If not, I will keep it for myself."
Jack pressed the 1 button to replay the message.
Something familiar about that voice…
"Hear those inflections?" Slater said. "He's Japanese."
"You're sure?"
"I speak both languages—very well, I might add. I learned them at a very early age, but Japanese came first, and certain rhythms and inflections bleed through to the trained ear. This fellow speaks nearly flawless English, but there's no question in my mind that Japanese was his first language."
And then it clicked: the leader of the yakuza. He'd spoken—at least to Jack's ear—flawless English.
Red flags flew up all over his brain.
Slater said, "Do you think I should meet his demand? I mean, I can afford ten thousand, but—"
"Agree to it, but let me handle it."
Slater's eyebrows lifted. "You think he's lying? He knew it was a Masamune. That says a lot, don't you think?"
"Doesn't mean he has it. Might just as easily mean he's planning to scam you, or he's looking for it too."
"But he must realize I don't have it. I'd hardly be offering a reward for something I already had."
"Might think—correctly, I assume—that you know more about it than he." He hesitated. He didn't want to mention the Kickers' involvement, but he'd already mentioned a third party, so… "I think he's that other player in this sword quest."
Slater's eyes widened. "The yakuza? Do you think they've got it?"
"Not sure, but I'd lay odds they don't. I will bet they've scoped you out as the original owner. So if they're looking for the sword and want to know more about it, you da man."
"So what do I do?"
"Give me his number and I'll call him back. I'll agree to the extra money, and set up a meet ASAP—preferably here, preferably today."
Slater looked around. "Do you really think it's safe to carry that much cash around here?"
Jack gave him a look. "You kidding? Nobody's carrying cash anywhere. You're staying in your hotel room and I'm going to check out whoever shows up."
"You think they'll try something sneaky?"
Sneaky… how quaint.
"Yeah. Maybe even… deceitful."
"I grieve over Tadasu-san," Shiro told his sensei, and meant it. He would miss him.
They sat in the classroom.
Akechi-sensei nodded gravely. "Yes, the Order is poorer for his passing. But he died serving the Order, something we all must be ready to do at any moment."
"I am ready, sensei."
He was also ready to ascend from acolyte to temple guard. He hated to think about it, but Tadasu's passing left an opening in the guard. Perhaps he would be assigned…
Shiro hesitated to bring up the subject, but he needed confirmation of a rumor.
"Is it true what I am hearing, sensei?"
"And what would that be?"
"That the Order is looking for a pregnant woman?"
Akechi-sensei said nothing at first. With his teacher's face forever hidden from him, Shiro had learned to read his eyes. He was relieved to see that they appeared… amused.
"There are no secrets in the temple, are there."
Shiro bowed his head. "Not about what happens in the Sighting room."
"It is true, Shiro. The Seer saw a pregnant woman. Just so you won't have to rely on rumor, I shall tell you his exact words: 'A woman with child… I see her face everywhere, staring back at me. She is important only for the child she carries. Her child, her child, her child… it will change the world. Who controls the child controls the future. The Order must control the child. It must.' The elders are working on an interpretation."
"There are so many pregnant women, sensei."
"Yes, but how many with 'her face everywhere, staring back'? That is the keystone of the vision. It must be someone famous, some woman on billboards or television or magazine covers."
"A pregnant celebrity… " That narrowed it down quite a bit, but still… how would they possess someone so well known? "I have heard there was another vision about the katana."
His sensei nodded. He said, 'The blade is with the woman… the blade and child are together now and will be so again in the future.' "
The blade is with the woman… the realization struck Shiro like a bo.
"The katana is in New York, sensei. We know that. So that must mean the woman is in New York!"
His sensei stared at him a moment in silence, then his eyes crinkled within the mask and he clapped his hands once.
"Truly, the Face is with you."
And then Shiro experienced what he could only call a vision of his own.
A face… a young blond woman's face staring back from every flat surface in the city.
He told Akechi-sensei about the flyers.
His teacher nodded slowly. "Possibly… possibly."
"But if so many are searching for her without success—I assume no success because new flyers go up every day—how are we to find her?"
His sensei thought a moment. When he spoke, Shiro could sense the excitement in his voice.
"Because the Seer said she is with the katana, and before he died, Tadasu told me that the katana is with someone who wears a tattoo like this."
He grabbed a piece of rice paper and a kanji brush from a nearby desk and began to drawn. He turned the page and showed Shiro.
"Have you ever seen this figure before?"
Of course he had—as ubiquitous as the flyers with the girl's face.
Members of the Inner Circles rarely if ever left the temple. Errands for food and medical supplies were left to those of the Order who could show their faces to the public. Consequently, the Inner Circles were ignorant—sometimes blissfully so, he imagined—of what was happening on the teeming streets of the city around them.
"It's the symbol for a group—a subculture, one might say—growing within the city. They call themselves 'Kickers,' sensei."