‘Go,’ said Chameleon.
O’Hara didn’t argue. He grabbed the rope and dropped into the black abyss.
The door burst from its frame and crashed to the floor. Three guards tumbled through the opening.
Chameleon started down the rope.
O’Hara was sliding down so fast that the rope scorched his hand. He could feel Chameleon on the rope above him. Then suddenly he wasn’t going down anymore. He looked up. The grinning face of one of the sumo guards leered down at him. The man was pulling them back up as though they were puppets.
‘Drop!’ O’Hara yelled and let go.
He had no idea how high up he was. He plunged into the darkness, down into the main water tunnel, hit and rolled. Chameleon landed seconds later and rolled on top of him.
They shot down along the wet moss, end over end, like children in a funhouse, uncontrollably swept along by their momentum, and burst out of the tunnel, carrying vines with them as they continued tumbling down the mountainside until they were stopped by the undergrowth.
The van was ten feet away.
O’Hara’s hands were rope-burned, his shoulder was skinned raw and blood streamed from his torn wrist. He tried to get to his feet, saw the Magician running toward him. ‘Chameleon...?’ he asked.
‘Right here, tomodachi,’ the tattooed man said, helping him up. It was the first time he had called O’Hara ‘friend.’
They jumped in the van and fell on the floor.
‘Get rolling!’ the Magician ordered, and Eliza jammed the van into gear and headed down the rest of the hill.
‘What the hell happened?’ the Magician said.
‘Shit hit the fan,’ O’Hara gasped.
‘I am to blame,’ Chameleon said. ‘I lost it there for a few minutes. It was an emotional—’
O’Hara sat up. He laid his hand on Chameleon’s arm. ‘Hey,’ he said, ‘who’s complaining?’ He turned to the Magician. ‘Did we get anything on tape?’
‘The whole megillah.’
O’Hara laughed and fell back on the floor of the van. ‘Is there a first-aid kit in the house?’ he said. ‘I think I may be bleeding to death.’
Eliza sped down the mountain and out into the flat at the edge of Tanabe. Behind them, yellow flames boiled up from Dragon’s Nest. Chameleon watched through the rear window of the van and rubbed his aching arms.
‘It is a cleansing fire,’ he said. “When it is over, the fortress will still be standing and we can restore it to what it once was, a nest for dragons, not weasels.’
He leaned back and closed his eyes and the pain in his face was not from his cuts and bruises. Without opening his eyes, he said, ‘I am sorry, Kazuo, for violating my promise. I could have got you killed back there.’
‘But you didn’t. The Tokenrui-san will say it was just an instant in time. The poets will pass it by.’
‘It was the sight of him, being that close to Hooker. It made me crazy. I needed to reveal the truth to him, just as you must reveal the truth about him to the world.’
‘Let it pass, Okari, let it pass,’ O’Hara sighed, and he slumped down to nurse his own aches and pains.
The Magician pulled the three tapes out of the recorders and wrapped a band around them as Eliza pulled into the clearing where they had left the Toyota.
‘Maybe the Magician ought to go with—’ O’Hara started to suggest, but she had slammed on the brakes and was already out of the van. As planned, she jumped in the car, started up and zoomed off.
‘I’m gonna tell yuh sumpin, okay? I wouldn’t drive back to Kyoto with her. She drove this van so fuckin’ fast, half the time I wasn’t sure if she was drivin’ it or it was drivin’ her.’
They drove the three hours back to Kyoto without incident. The fire was apparently keeping Garvey and company too busy to bother with them.
As they reached the center of Kyoto, Chameleon asked to be dropped off. ‘It is better that I leave now.’ He reached out and took O’Hara’s hand. ‘Whoever Kimura-san selects as Tokenrui will please me. If it is to be you, tomodachi, it will be my honor to serve you. If you ever need anything, this kendo master is at your service.’
‘I feel the same,’ O’Hara said. Arigato, my friend.’ He watched Okari limp down a side street until the darkness swallowed him up. The reporter lay back on the floor of the van. It had been a long night filled with surprises, and despite his torn wrist and battered ribs, he felt suddenly refreshed. The truth was on the tapes. Howe would have his big story. Lizzie would get her shot at New York. A heavy burden had been lifted from Chameleon’s shoulders. Yet to O’Hara, the victory seemed strangely empty. He thought instead about Falmouth, who had lied to him and betrayed him, It was a lesson that would stay with him forever. What was it Kimura-san said... ‘The wise man has many cuts.’ But he also said, ‘The happy man forgets his scars.’
The Magician broke the spell. ‘Weird,’ he said.
‘What’s weird?’
‘All those fuckin’ tattoos.’
They drove back to the hotel.
‘We catch the first train out in the morning, the way I see it,’ the Magician said after they had parked the van. ‘We can be back in the States, shit, tomorra night this time.’
O’Hara nodded slowly. ‘Let’s hope Lizzie didn’t kill herself driving back here.’
He grabbed the first house phone he saw in the hotel lobby and dialed her number. It rang and the operator came on.
‘Who please?’
‘Eliza Gunn, USA.’
‘Missa Gunn, she check out.’
‘Checked out!’
‘Hai. Maybe twenty minutes.’
‘Thanks.’
The note was in his box. It read: ‘I lucked out. Found a young pilot willing to fly me to Tokyo tonight. You get the big story, I get the tapes. Seems fair, doesn’t it? By the way, would you mind returning the van to Howe/Tokyo. Thanks. See you in Boston. xxx E.’
He handed it to the Magician.
‘Well, I’ll be goddamned,’ the Magician said, and he started laughing. ‘She scooped yuh, pal!’
12
Charles Gordon Howe wheeled himself into his spacious office overlooking the Haymarket. It had been a busy day, thanks to his two top reporters, and a fruitful one. The fire at Dragon’s Nest had attracted news coverage, but Hooker’s death got most of the space. All that did was whet everyone’s appetite for the whole story, and they had it all. Eliza was coming on with a fifteen-minute news special. She had been editing it all night. He’d get a huge share on the news tonight. And O’Hara was on his way back with a front-page banner for the Star. All the fine details. The old man leaned back in his wheelchair and stroked his chin.
Excellent.
Eliza’s bright face popped on the set, but it was wearing a serious expression. Nothing light.
‘Good evening,’ she began, ‘this is Eliza Gunn, Six O’Clock News—’
‘Don’t worry, she’ll do a helluva job.’
Howe recognized the voice immediately. It came from a dark corner of the office, back among the plants.
O’Hara stepped out into the light.
‘You scared the bedevil outa me there, Lieutenant. What the hell’re you doing hiding back there among the goddamn shrubs?’
‘I was hanging boxes in the air.’
‘What?’
‘It’s an old Zen trick. Really nothing more than logic.’
‘Is that right?’ Howe said. He was watching the television set, almost leering as his star reporter described the operation known as Master and its perpetrators.
‘There’s a lot more to it than she has,’ O’Hara said.
‘There’s nothing wrong with the stuff she’s got.’
‘Tip of the iceberg.’
‘Well, can it wait until this is over, sir?’ Howe was getting annoyed. ‘Every station in the country’s gonna want to pick this up. How far along are you on your yarn?’
‘It’s finished.’