Christopher Cartwright
The Hunt for Excalibur
Prologue
The Hoshi Maru rode the sea off the north-eastern coastal waters of Japan with arrogant indifference. At a hundred and eighty feet in length, a beam of fifty, and a double layered hull of steel, it was difficult to imagine anything that would disturb the fishing trawler.
Captain Itaru Katsuzō grinned as his eyes swept the horizon. The dark swells shifted against one another like giant shards of shale, forming an impenetrable layer of a puzzle, as it mirrored the velvet black of the night’s sky. The conditions made for good fishing. They would pull in their last net shortly and be home within another twelve hours.
At three-thirty a.m. the diesel motors stopped and the final haul of yellowfin tuna was dropped into one of the ship’s two live-holds. One of his men noted that the second hold was now full. The captain nodded, his lips curling upward with pleasure. They would be home a full week ahead of schedule. It was a good omen. The best he could have asked for. After nearly ten years working for the fishing company, he had been given command of a trawler of his own — and not just any trawler — the Hoshi Maru was the company’s newest addition to the fleet. His success would go a long way to validating the executive’s decision to promote him.
Katsuzō pushed the twin throttles forward until the powerful Akasaka diesels ran at approximately eighty percent of their maximum RPM and the Hoshi Maru headed toward her home port at nine knots. At five-foot ten inches, he was considered tall and good looking. Katsuzō thought about his fiancé. They had been secretly engaged for nearly two years. But as the fifth son of a fisherman, he had little to offer her and her family. His recent promotion had changed all that. When his appointment was ratified, he would go to her parents and formally ask permission to marry her.
Yes, tonight’s catch was a very good omen.
The Hoshi Maru motored on through the night, until the inky black sky turned into the gray of predawn — when he first heard the strange sound.
It was a firm knocking sound from the internal hull, like the sound one makes when they rapped their knuckles against a door. Only in this case, it was the quarter inch thick steel of the internal hull. His eyes darted across the ship’s instruments, confirming that the diesels were running smoothly, that nothing was overheating, and that the impeller was still drawing seawater to cool the engine.
He breathed out gently. Whatever it was, it wasn’t affecting the vital parts of the ship’s propulsion. That meant they could still reach the harbor early. Let the maintenance workers and engineers resolve the problem. It was most likely something simple. A teething problem with a new ship.
He closed his eyes and listened, trying to imagine what could be the cause of such a strange sound. Captain Itaru Katsuzō’s face hardened as he listened to it.
The knocking sound came from somewhere inside one of the live fish holding tanks.
It was quite persistent.
He imagined some strange creature of the deep being accidentally pulled up along with the yellowfin tuna in his net. Fishermen were traditionally superstitious, but he didn’t believe any of that. He’d heard stories of sharks being brought up and dropped into the live hold, decimating the dense population of live fish. But he’d never believed stories about secret monsters from below, being dragged to the surface.
One persistent story was that of the chimera.
A chimera is a single organism that is composed of two or more different populations of genetically distinct cells. Most frightening of all, the Nue — described in the Japanese folklore of the Heike Monogatari, the creature was said to have the face of a monkey, the legs of a tiger, the body of a tanuki dog, and the front half of a snake for a tail.
Captain Itaru Katsuzō had heard stories of fishermen who claimed that they had had the misfortune to bring up a Nue inside their fishing nets. The Japanese chimera, a creature that formed the basis of many nightmares, then destroyed the crew and ship with menacing efficiency. Those few survivors who have told the stories, had only ever done so after being rescued from the sea after their vessels had become shipwrecked.
As far as Captain Itaru Katsuzō believed, they were nothing more than the ravings of half-starved, dehydrated, and near-death sailors, and nothing more.
A moment later the knocking stopped.
He exhaled a sigh of relief.
Hyoo, hyoo
The sound changed to a terribly eerie bird cry. It resembled that of a scaly thrush, a nocturnal Japanese bird.
And also, the call sound of a mythical Nue.
Yuki Tono, a short and wiry fisherman, turned to face the captain, his dark brown eyes wide with fear. “It’s the call of a Nue!”
Captain Itaru Katsuzō looked Yuki Tono directly in the eye. “The Nue is a myth, made to frighten little boys.”
Hyoo, hyoo
The creature cooed again.
Yuki Tono’s lips twisted into a hardened grimace. “Does that sound like the imaginings of folklore to you?”
“Control yourself!” Captain Itaru Katsuzō commanded. “We have thousands of yellowfin tuna in our hold. You and I both know that such a large group can make strange sounds. It could be anything. Not just some sort of stupid mythical creature to tell children as bedtime tales.”
The knocking on the internal hull started again.
Both men turned their heads toward the bow of the ship.
This time it was clear where the sound was coming from. It was the forward live fish hold. And the knocking was coming from directly inside the hatch. Of that there was no dispute between the two men. Something, or someone, wanted to be let out.
Captain Itaru Katsuzō set his jaw firm and walked toward the hatch.
“What are you doing!” Yuki Tono asked, his face set with abject horror.
“I’m going to find out exactly what is turning you into a frightened child.”
“How?”
Itaru Katsuzō grinned. “I’m going to open that damned hatch and have a look.”
“No! You can’t.”
“What else do you suggest I do?”
Yuki Tono said, “We should wake Patrick!”
“Patrick!” Captain Itaru Katsuzō shook his head in disgust. “Patrick can’t protect us. He’s still running from whatever past he left behind in Ireland. You think he’s a real tough man? A murderer? A paid enforcer?”
Yuki Tono nodded. “Yes. You can see it in his eyes. He’s a cold-blooded killer. You’ve seen him with a knife. That’s not normal. Whatever past life he left behind, he was trained to kill. A scar like that never leaves a person, no matter how much he runs from it.”
“Yeah. Well, whatever Patrick is, we don’t need for him to tell us what’s making a spooky sound deep inside the hold.” Itaru Katsuzō shook his head. “I’m going to go find out now.”
Yuki Tono gripped his shoulder. “Please, Captain…”
Itaru Katsuzō shrugged the hand off his shoulder, his eyes filled with defiance. “Leave this to me.”
Captain Itaru Katsuzō stepped right up to the forward hatch. Paused for a second. Slid the bolts all the way out, and then opened the hatch. It wasn’t the same hatch where the fish were dropped into the hold. This one was smaller, a square, roughly four feet wide. The door was secured by two bolts on one side and thick steel hinges on the other.
He opened the hatch up until it folded back on itself, lying flat on the deck of the Hoshi Maru and peered in.
It was entirely dark inside the hold.
Itaru Katsuzō switched on his GENTOS flashlight, sending a thousand lumens into the dark hold, turning it to daylight. Kneeling beside the hatch, with his left hand firmly locked on the side of the deck, while his right gripped the flashlight, his eyes swept the forward compartment of the live fishing hold.