"Just another way to see the world, eh?"

"Something like that, yes."

Ahead of them the concourse throbbed with people. Ken nodded. "Osaka is a huge metropolis, second only to Tokyo. Its train stations naturally reflect that."

Annja scanned the crowd but could pick out no one who seemed particularly dangerous. "How in the world do you sense the presence of danger in a place like this?"

"You wing it," Ken said. They moved into the crowds and Annja stayed behind Ken as he threaded his way through the bustling throngs of commuters, schoolkids and elderly people on errands.

She stayed close to him. "You're not serious about winging it, are you?"

Ken shrugged. "It's tough to pinpoint anything in such a group. Probably the best way to avoid danger in this location is to simply avoid walking through it in the first place. By simply not being here, you avoid the danger."

"We don't really have a choice, though," Annja pointed out.

"And that's what makes this so problematic." Ken indicated to the exit. "Once we clear the building, we'll be better off. If someone does choose this time to attack, we'll at least have a better environment to handle them."

They managed to push through the final hundred feet without incident. Annja spotted a gaggle of schoolgirls loitering near the entrance, all glued to video iPods and cell phones. How times have changed, she thought. Back in her day, Annja would have either been working out or had her nose stuck in a book.

Outside, the overcast skies enveloped them in a moist mist that didn't fall as much as simply float in the air. Annja was glad she'd brought her raincoat. Ken zipped his jacket.

"Are we clear?" she asked.

Ken smiled. "Oh, not by a long shot."

Annja frowned. "But we left the station. No one tried to attack us."

"That's true," Ken said. "And ordinarily, that might make a person inclined to feel safe. But you must also view the position of the attacker in order to determine the relative level of safety."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Talking with Ken could be almost as annoying as talking to Roux or Garin, she decided.

"Would it make sense for an attacker to go after us in the train station?"

Annja looked back at the building. It had been far too crowded in there for anyone to make much of an a.s.sault. "I guess not."

"Short of someone trying to stab us as we walked past, opening fire or blowing the place up is a highly ineffective strategy."

"So what you're saying is we're still in danger."

Ken nodded. "As long as we're after this vajra vajra, it's my belief we'll be in danger."

"Swell," Annja muttered.

Behind them, the doors of the station opened. Annja watched as roughly a dozen schoolgirls came sidling through the portal, all of them giggling and sashaying about on the concrete walkway.

"We should go now," Ken said.

Annja turned to follow him. The walkway sloped downward at an angle. Ken reached the bottom first and then glanced at Annja. "Can you run?"

Annja's stomach hurt again suddenly. "Why?"

Ken pulled her to the ground as a flash of metal cut through the air where Annja's head had been a second earlier. Annja glanced back and saw the schoolgirls rushing at them, screaming like a flock of crazed crows.

"Come on." Ken yanked her arm, and Annja let herself be pulled along down the main street as the schoolgirls chased behind them. Ken went flying past a bewildered police officer.

Annja looked behind her in time to see the cop put his hand up to stop the schoolgirls, only to have it hacked off by one of the girls who wielded a sword. The cop spun and went down, his arm spraying crimson on to the street.

"They just killed that guy!" she shouted.

"They'll kill us, too, if we're not careful." Ken ducked down a side alley and Annja followed. Trash lined the slick ground. They skidded to a stop.

The alley ended in a concrete wall that ran twenty feet high.

Ken frowned and turned. He didn't seem to be out of breath. "So much for that option."

Annja could hear the screams of the girls as they skidded to a stop in front of the alley. They saw Ken and Annja, the dead end they'd boxed themselves in, and smirked collectively.

"I guess we make our stand here," Ken said. He glanced around and found a length of wood on the ground. It was easily ten feet long, but Ken cracked it over his knee and handed half of it to Annja.

"Use this," he said.

"But they're just kids."

Ken shook his head. "They're killers. And if you think of them as kids, they'll kill you. They're all old enough to know better. Whoever hired them to attack us, hired them for a reason. If they come at us, you must think of them as enemies. Give them no quarter because they'll show you no mercy, either."

Annja hefted the wood in her hands. Compared to the swords, chains and a.s.sorted other blades she saw the girls handling fifty feet away, the wooden staff seemed woefully inadequate against their a.r.s.enal.

One of the girls hurled another throwing star at them. But Ken merely knocked it away with his staff. It skittered away, clanging on the damp ground.

Annja stood next to Ken and smiled. "This kind of thing happen on all your dates?"

He glanced at her. "Is this a date?"

"I was kidding, silly."

Ken smiled. "You can't say it isn't fun, though. Can you?"

"Ask me when this is over."

The girls screamed en ma.s.se and just as they were about to charge, another sound filled the alley. It flooded the area like a grumbling thunderstorm and it took Annja a moment to realize someone was chanting.

"What the?"

Ken put a hand on her arm. "Wait."

The chanting grew louder and the schoolgirls looked nervous. From behind them, it looked as if a gray mist was coming for them, billowing into the alley. The chanting grew louder and more ominous and almost made Annja's ears hurt.

The effect on the schoolgirls, however, was more profound. As the mist enveloped them, they screamed in terror. Annja could see flailing limbs and heard sharp whacks and hits and strikes and more startled cries from within the cloud of mist.

After several long seconds, the screeching stopped.

The mist began to fade.

Annja could see the sprawled bodies of the schoolgirls on the ground. Their weapons were nowhere to be seen.

"What the h.e.l.l just happened?" Annja asked, confused.

Ken tugged on her arm. "Come on."

They ran past the schoolgirls. Annja couldn't tell if they were dead or just unconscious. At the mouth of the alley they stopped. Ken pointed.

"Look."

Down the street, they saw the robed figure of an elderly monk leaning on a staff with rings atop it.

The monk stopped, turned and bowed low.

Ken returned the bow.

"Who was that?" asked Annja.

Ken shook his head. "I don't know. But he just saved our lives."

14.

"Where'd he go?"

Annja looked back but the mysterious monk had vanished in a second in the sudden throng of people who had appeared on the street. Ken tugged on Annja's arm like an insistent child bothering its parent.

"We should get out of here before the police show up. A bunch of schoolgirls lying dead or unconscious in a crummy alley will certainly bring the authorities around by the dozens."

Annja followed him into the ma.s.s of people, marveling at how easily Ken slid through the gaps in s.p.a.ce. They traveled for the better part of a mile. Finally, Annja pulled up short, which caused Ken to stop, as well. She leaned against a storefront and tried to catch her breath.

"Where exactly are we going?"

Ken gestured with his right arm as he tried to get out of Annja's grasp. "A small temple I know of. It's just up this way a bit farther."

Annja frowned. Something bothered her about all of this. Namely, there hadn't been much she'd been required to solve or figure out for Ken since this whole trip had started. All of the things they were doing he could have done without her help. So what was his reason for bringing her along on this jaunt?

She pushed off her resting point and followed him up another block and then down a side alley as he broke right. The area didn't look even remotely as if it would house a temple. Too many steel facades sprung up alongside them at every step. Bright neon flashed in pac.h.i.n.ko pac.h.i.n.ko parlors and video arcades hustled their wares. Internet cafes buzzed with people seated and surfing. And nowhere did it appear that a temple could find a home in this bustling modern metropolis. parlors and video arcades hustled their wares. Internet cafes buzzed with people seated and surfing. And nowhere did it appear that a temple could find a home in this bustling modern metropolis.

But when Ken turned at the next corner, Annja found herself reconsidering her previous a.s.sessment. Sitting a half block farther on was the gate that marked the entrance to a temple. She could see the cedar beams and wooden shoji screen entrance, along with the blessed rope hanging down from the gate that marked this as a holy place. On either side of the door, two red j.a.panese maple trees were paired with small statues of an angry-looking G.o.d holding a sword and gnarled rope in his hands.

Ken stood before the structure and pointed out the figures to Annja. "Fudo Myoo, the G.o.d of warriors. His name means 'the immovable one.'"

Annja looked around. "And this temple is dedicated to him?"

"One of the few left in the country. For some reason, there aren't many who consider him a worthwhile deity to pray to in this supposed age of enlightenment and reason."

"But not you. You like to cover all your bases?" Annja asked.

Ken grinned. "Something like that. We're here to see a very old man who might just know how to find the vajra vajra."

He stepped forward, knocked on the wooden frame of the shoji screen and called out a greeting in j.a.panese. From somewhere deep inside, a voice answered back and Ken nodded.

"Good. He's home."

They stepped up onto the wooden flooring and Ken pointed out the shoe cubby. Annja slipped off her shoes and stepped into a pair of small slippers that wrapped around her feet like tight socks.

Ken slid back the shoji screen and they stepped inside.

The first thing Annja noticed was how much larger it seemed on the inside than out. The ceiling towered over them and a large statue of Fudo Myoo stood deeper inside, bathed in dim candlelight. The fresh scent of incense wafted through the air and Annja found herself breathing deeply and feeling much more relaxed than she'd been before their encounter in the alley with the psychotic schoolgirls.

Ken stepped over to the smoky incense burner located by the back side of the Fudo Myoo statue and waved his hands through the haze. Pressing his palms together, he bowed several times and waved some more of the smoke over himself.

Then he stepped back and nodded at Annja to do the same. Annja felt a little strange about doing so, feeling that this wasn't exactly a deity she might worship. Still, being in the temple of any G.o.d, believable or not, she figured it seemed only polite to at least pay a small homage to them.

She waved the smoke on herself as she'd seen Ken do and then bowed a few times until she felt more self-conscious than anything else.

When she looked up, Ken stood there smiling.

As did the diminutive monk standing next to him.

"Sorry, not exactly sure I did that right," Annja said.

"You did fine," Ken said. He turned to the monk. "This is Taka. He runs the temple here. All by himself mostly."

The monk bowed low and came up smiling still. "I used to have some help, but most acolytes these days prefer other G.o.ds to serve time with. I suppose this place just isn't flashy or fashionable enough."

Annja started. "Your English is perfect."

He shrugged. "I travel sometimes." He nodded to Ken. "Come. I have tea waiting."

Annja glanced at Ken and then back at Taka. "You knew we'd be coming?"

The elderly monk merely shrugged as he walked. "The future is not hard to discern if you listen to nature. Most events are clearly laid out if you only care to notice them ahead of time."

They walked down a corridor on cedar planking polished by years of feet scuffling back and forth in sock slippers. Annja marveled at the depth of the temple.

"It seems so small on the outside. And yet-"

Taka nodded. "It's much larger than it appears. In much the same way, Fudo Myoo's influence is much greater than is at first evident."