25
Tokyo, Japan
July 12
Fumio Namaka watched the gaijin walk toward him.
In the glare of the perimeter floodlights and from a distance, he looked somehow smaller and slighter than when they had met in the Namaka Tower, but doubtless that was an illusion. The Irishman was wearing a dark suit, and that tended to reduce the impression of size. Or perhaps it was natural to imagine a much-hated enemy as larger than he really was.
The steel-gray hair and features were unmistakable. As he looked at Fitzduane, Fumio almost regretted the imminent arrival of the Yaibo helicopters. His anticipation of this man's death was fulfillment in itself. The actual execution would be almost an anticlimax.
'Namaka- san,' said the gaijin. He had stopped about ten yards away. 'It is good to see you,' he said. 'It is a long-deferred pleasure.'
Fumio started. The voice was different, and the gaijin was speaking in Japanese! He did not know what, but something was definitely amiss.
He looked around uncertainly. Where before the garden had been empty, now heavily armed masked figures in black rubber suits and hoods were emerging from the pond like some nightmare of hell.
Within seconds, he was surrounded, his arms and legs pinioned, and he was rammed against one of the summer-house uprights. He felt cold steel against his wrists, and he realized that he had been handcuffed in place.
He could hear the distant whump-whump-whump of helicopters. It was not too late. There was still time.
The gaijin approached, put his face close to Fumio's, and as Fumio watched helplessly, the gaijin put his hand up and tore his own flesh from his skull.
Fumio gagged as gobbets of flesh and tissue and hair were torn away. And then came the sudden realization as the deformed face underneath appeared. His bowels turned to liquid and he could smell his own reeking fear.
'Katsuda,' he whispered.
The hideous head nodded.
Pieces of artificial flesh still adhered to it, and the effect was to give a leprous, rotting look to Katsuda's features.
It looked as if the real flesh was also peeling away. The man seemed to be decaying in front of him.
'Your executioner,' said Katsuda.
Fumio smelled the liquid before it was poured on him, and instantly he knew how he was going to die.
The noise of the helicopters was now overwhelming, and a split second later two black shapes appeared overhead and black ropes snaked down from one.
Katsuda stood well back and a frogman handed him a short cylinder. A moment later, it burst into brilliant pink light.
The burning flare arced through the air toward the screaming, struggling Fumio.
A distinctive black shape blocked out Fitzduane's vision and then settled in the front garden, and once again he could see Fumio Namaka and Katsuda.
Fitzduane had lost a few seconds and was not quite sure what was going on. He had seen the eruption of frogmen and Fumio being seized, but then had lost continuity.
As Fumio and Katsuda reemerged, he saw a flash of a pink flare and then Fumio erupted into flame. He, the summer house, and the ground around him must have been saturated in something like high-octane gas or charcoal lighter fuel, because the explosion of flame was startlingly violent. A searing white flame shot into the sky, and within split seconds the thatch had caught and was burning with extraordinary ferocity.
'Al, take Katsuda now,' said Fitzduane deliberately. 'Chifune, focus on the frogmen. Fire at will.'
Katsuda spread his arms and, fists clenched, shouted up into the sky to celebrate his triumph.'
Now he was THE kuromaku.
Lonsdale took first pressure on the Barrett trigger. Katsuda already filled the reticule of his telescopic sight.
' Banzai! Banzai! Banzai! ' Katsuda shouted, oblivious to the gun battle that had erupted between his frogmen and Fumio's terrorists, who had arrived too late to save their master.
Lonsdale gently squeezed the trigger. The. 50 round, developed originally in World War I to destroy tanks, caught Katsuda in the upper torso and exploded, blowing his heart, rib cage, lungs, and spine into bloody fragments and the rest of his body into the flames where Fumio Namaka's body spat and flared in the vicious heat.
The two enemies burned together.
The first Huey landed in the largest clear space available, the front garden between the well and the blazing summer house.
The Huey had a nearly fifty-foot rotor diameter and the second helicopter made no attempt to touch down. Instead, it hovered about twenty feet up.
Four figures rappelled down ropes, and other terrorists remained in the cabin, shooting at targets of opportunity.
Chifune was firing rapidly.
Three frogmen had dropped in as many seconds, but then the survivors headed for cover and her rate of fire slowed as she sought out targets.
One frogman hunkered behind a man-height stone lantern carved from volcanic rock, but the. 300 Magnum round cut effortlessly through it and through the man hiding on the other side.
A second man had made it to the pool and was under six inches of water when the round seared through the back of his skull.
In Chifune's opinion, the effectiveness of the airship operation was severely hindered by the agreed-upon restrictions of firepower, but the rules of the hunt were quite specific. They were over a densely populated city. Automatic-weapons fire, whether machine gun or grenade launcher, was out. The Spider had been adamant. It was a minor miracle the Barrett had not been prohibited, too. The. 50 round could penetrate brick, stone, or plate steel and had been known to cut through six wooden houses. A loose round could take out a complete sushi bar counter and give a whole new meaning to the term ‘friendly fire.’
Fitzduane assessed the situation below. It was getting time to hand over to the Spider and his people. The airship had limited objectives. It was a superb observation platform and had given them the crucial element of surprise, but now it was only a matter of time before someone looked up. That would not have mattered before the helicopters arrived on the scene, but now the situation could get unhealthy.
The airship could do just over seventy miles an hour if wind conditions were favorable. The Huey was rated at around a hundred and thirty. True, the rates of climb under power were around the same, with the airship, ironically, having a slight edge, but when it came to maneuverability, there was no comparison. The Huey won hands down. The issue of which aircraft presented the better target scarcely bore contemplation. It was nearly time to bug out.
'Spider- san ' said Fitzduane. His mind was on protocol.
The Deputy Superintendent-General and his attendant staff looked at the loudspeaker in his mobile command vehicle in a state of shock.
' Gaijin ' he muttered under his breath. 'What do foreign barbarians know about good manners!' His staff looked at each other with smiles of relief. The Spider had just defused a potentially serious case of loss of face. Honor was restored.
The Spider keyed the microphone. 'Fitzduane- san,' he said in acknowledgment.
'We're going to try and take out the helicopter on the ground,' said Fitzduane, 'and then we're getting the hell out of here. Engaging the second Huey is too dangerous unless you want central Tokyo shot up. I just hope the
