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Unless he had a fake urn. The sacred remains were probably a fake, as well. Taka had grave doubts about the condition of bone and ash after almost four hundred years. But if Summer could manage to produce three creditable copies of the urn, then the Shirosama could do just as well faking a pile of ash and some chunks of whitened bone.
In which case, why was he holding Summer hostage for the real urn? Why the hell did it matter? The plans were in motion, the eve of the first full moon of the year was u
pon them, and the appearance of the real urn tomorrow or the next day would be too late. Tonight was the signal for everything to begin; their intel had been faultless at least that far. The weapons, wherever they were, would be distributed, and in the next few days the subways and train stations would be flooded with toxins, and no color of alert or high level warnings were going to make any difference. There had already been too many false alarms.
For the first time in his life Taka felt absolutely helpless to stop the disaster. Things were in motion, and if the Shirosama had his crazed way, Armageddon would follow.
No, Taka was going to stop it, even if it seemed an impossibility. He was going to put a bullet right between the Shirosama’s fat, ruined eyes, and he was going to get Summer the hell out of there to a safe place, where no one could ever put murderous hands on her again.
Including himself.
They ditched the car halfway up the mountain, grabbed their backpacks and began circling around toward the glow of artificial light.
The night was cold, with the sharp promise of snow in the air. For now the ground was dry and bare. If it started snowing, things were going to go from difficult to almost impossible.
Even from a distance, Taka could see the outlines of the ancient torii gate, leading to the temple grounds, and the wide, flat field nearby. A perfect landing strip.
The landing field was an integral part of the Shirosama’s crazed doomsday play. Sooner or later a plane was going to show up. In the banked lights of the airstrip Taka could see crate after crate piled high, and he knew with absolute certainty that he’d found the weapons after all. What better place to distribute them than the sacred mountain shrine itself? The Shirosama would send those weapons out into the world with his faithful followers, and it was up to Taka to stop them.
The backpack had more than the well-padded urn inside. There were explosives, firearms—enough firepower to wipe out half the mountain—and Reno was carrying the same. They needed to find cover, wait until the plane landed and take it out. Stop the carnage before it began, with their own rough justice.
But that meant leaving Summer to the Shirosama’s tender mercies.
It all came down to this—one woman or the thousands, tens of thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands. Ensuing chaos would raise the death toll higher still.
Takashi had no choice, and he’d always known it. This was one reason he’d tried so hard not to care about anyone, one reason why he’d known immediately just how dangerous Summer Hawthorne could be. Because now she was the one he couldn’t sacrifice, couldn’t walk away from, no matter how high the stakes. He could die for what he believed in. He just couldn’t let her die as well.
Reno was watching him, his expression unreadable in the darkness as Taka made his way silently to his side. “Take out the plane,” Taka said. “Kill anyone who tries to board it, anyone who tries to leave. I don’t care who they are. We can’t let them get away with these weapons.”
“You going after her?”
“Yes.”
“You got any more guns?”
Taka opened his backpack, pulling out the carefully wrapped urn, then dumped the rest of the contents on the ground in front of his cousin before putting the bowl back in.
“Wait. You’re going to need something,” Reno protested.
“If I bring a weapon, they’ll just take it from me. I have my hands. I know how to use them.”
“Crazy motherfucker,” his cousin muttered. “Bring her back with you, and we’ll all fly out of here.”
“I don’t see how that’s going to happen.”
Reno grinned in the dim light. “It’ll happen. After you save the world, my noble cousin. Go off and rescue her. I’ll take care of things on this end.”
Taka stared at him for a long moment. Reno had been the only brother he’d known, and he’d brought him up here to almost certain death. And he looked to be having the time of his life. Taka hugged him tightly and then headed off into the darkness, leaving the landing field far behind.
Summer was freezing. She considered complaining, but the last time she’d mentioned it Brother Heinrich had slammed her in the ribs. No one really gave a damn whether she froze to death or not, which suggested that she was going to die no matter what. Well, she wasn’t going to make it easy for them.
She also had no intention of shutting up, and the nasty Brother Heinrich had forgotten to bring more duct tape up this icy mountain with him. He’d tried slapping the old stuff on, but it didn’t stick, and any gag he forced in her mouth she simply spat out again. He’d been getting to the point where she half expected him to shove his fist down her throat in order to keep her quiet, when the Shirosama admonished him, sending him off on some errand or another while Summer hunkered down on the frozen ground, waiting. Waiting for God knows what.
“You shouldn’t annoy Brother Heinrich, my child,” His Sliminess said in his rich, hypnotic voice. “He has far to go in his search for enlightenment, and I am grieved to say he often falls into his old ways. It distresses him when anyone fails to show me the proper honor.”
“He’ll have to get used to it,” she retorted with her best approximation of a snarl. “You still haven’t told me why you brought me up here. You know I don’t have the urn anymore. And any number of people have figured out where this place is. They’ll be coming for me.”
“That is exactly what I am counting on. Takashi O’Brien will bring me the urn in exchange for your safety, and then the rite of ascension can proceed as predetermined.”
