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  As she approaches the gateway, Hakatoro advances a few paces ahead of his weapons teams to greet her.

  They bow.

  "Are your forces arrayed to your satisfaction, Hakatoro-sama Machiko-san asks in her throaty voice of authority.

  Hakatoro nods. "I have biologicals in the woods, assault teams on the perimeter, lasers on line, assault guns, and a SAM unit on the hill. Any hostiles will be fragged, burned, or blown to bits, Machiko-san. Defenses in depth, reinforced by your GSG. We are ready for the devil Fuchi itself." Machiko-san looks at him sharply. "You have information that Fuchi presents a definite threat?"

  Hakatoro hesitates. A peculiar question, this. He is a moment recognizing that Machiko-san has taken his chance mention of Fuchi as a serious statement. This is odd because they have joked about the notorious giant of Fuchi Industrial Electronics on many occasions in the past. Everyone does. Fuchi is well-known for the villainy of its black operations. "Excuse me, Machiko-san," Hakatoro hurries to say. "I have no such information. I meant only to emphasize that the forces under my command are prepared for whatever enemy we may encounter."

  Momentarily, Machiko-san nods. The throaty voice softens. "You must forgive me, Hakatoro-san. We face a very serious threat. Five senior GSG were attacked tonight. Two are dead."

  Hakatoro scowls. "Impossible."

  "It is so," Machiko-san assures him. "Sukayo-san himself has been seriously wounded. I have just been informed by the Chairman that I am now acting senior of the Guard." Hearing this, Hakatoro straightens his already rigid, erect posture. The stature of the Green Serpent Guard is of course very high. They accompany the Chairman everywhere, watch over him twenty-four hours a day. They are empowered to use any means to ensure that he is safe. Even the most junior member may demand immediate access if he or she should believe that the Chairman's safety is in question. Yet, the senior member of the Guard is said to stand especially close to the Chairman, at his right hand, and to have his ear, much like a sanro-kai, or "special consultant." The senior member's stature is especially high. Had Hakatoro known of Machiko-san's recent rise in status he would not have spoken so informally. He would have addressed her with the degree of respect accorded the senior-most of the Guard.

  "I do not know how long this alert must go on," Machiko-san continues. "I am hoping that Security Service, or perhaps the Intelligence Directorate will shortly be able to provide us some data, such as the identity of the assassins. This should assist us in evaluating the level of threat we face, and its immediacy."

  Hakatoro nods. "The SDF will be on alert for as long as is necessary, Machiko-san. I will advise my command to make all necessary arrangements."

  Machiko-san glances aside.

  Hakatoro follows her glance, and finds two other GSG now coming through ports in the gateway, coming toward Machiko-san. Ryokai and Gongoro, both senior GSG. Gongoro was tonight the senior GSG on duty at the estate. Both bow in approaching Machiko-san. Gongoro, arrogant dog, gives a bow that is at best perfunctory, and does not wait for a bow of acknowledgment.

  "You will inspect our deployment?" Gongoro says in a clipped tone of command.

  Hakatoro restrains himself. He has no authority over members of the Guard. It would be inappropriate for him to snarl at this dog over his churlish manners and thus cause an incident. It would be particularly inappropriate in light of the current alert.

  Instead, as Gongoro completes his question, Hakatoro faces Machiko-san and bows. "Does the senior member have any other requests of the Security Defense Force?"

  Machiko-san glances back and forth. Her eyes then settle on Hakatoro, much as he had expected. "Not at this time," Machiko-san replies. "Thank you, Hakatoro-san."

  They bow.

  Hakatoro returns to his troops.

  6

  Gongoro gives no visible response to being interrupted by Major Hakatoro, but Machiko is not deceived. She knows well the measure of Gongoro's anger. She is quite aware that he does not like being interrupted, especially by members of the security forces, especially by norms. For now, he will do nothing, because duty demands his attention, and because, here in the cul-de-sac, he stands under the guns of Hakatoro's men, and those men are Hakatoro's hand-picked best. In time an opportunity will come whereby he may repay Hakatoro his affront, and Gongoro will seize it. That is how he operates.

  Ryokai's eyes dart back and forth as if expecting lightning and thunder to erupt at any moment. And that is Ryokai, ever sensitive to the rise of conflict.

  "I will inspect the deployment," Machiko says.

  And her two brothers of the Guard follow her through one of the ports in the gateway.

  Compared to the brilliant light flooding the cul-de-sac, the terrain beyond the gateway is nearly lost in darkness. The low hill that the Chairman's rambling home surmounts is sheltered by massive oaks, some rising thirty meters and higher into the night. Such trees cast heavy shadows. A person with only the benefit of a norm's unaided vision could easily miss her step. To Machiko's eyes, the hillside is dark, but the teams of GSG and SDF stationed about the discreet slope of the curving driveway provide guidance, orientation. They are beacons of warmth amid the darkness. They stand out like lanterns among the trees, the manicured garden plots, and sculptured bends of a water-course.

  "I have extended our perimeter," Gongoro remarks.

  This is quite obvious.

  A team of five GSG, armed with M-22 assault rifles with integral grenade launchers, and supported by an M-107 machine gun, wait barely fifteen meters upslope from the gateway.

  Under ordinary conditions, only a third or half of the Guard is on duty at any one time, and would stand watch over only those areas providing the most immediate means of access to the Chairman's person: the room or garden or hall where the Chairman happens to be, adjacent rooms and corridors, household entrances. It is the responsibility of the Security Defense Force to guard the actual estate, to patrol the property, to seize any intruders and repel all attacks. The SDF is responsible for this and other Nagato facilities. The Green Serpent Guard is responsible specifically for the Chairman's life. Whether the house and grounds of the estate are attacked and reduced to burning bits of vulcanized ash is of little significance to Machiko, so long as the Chairman himself is not injured.

  However, Machiko can only conclude that Gongoro is right to extend the Guard's perimeter. The entire GSG membership is on hand. Tonight, they can afford to spread themselves across the landscape. Tonight, duty demands it.

  "I have doubled the guard on access passages to the Chairman's rooms and increased the body detail to eight."

  Again, Gongoro has chosen correctly.

  The body detail is composed of those GSG assigned to provide close cover over the Chairman's person. It is the detail's duty to follow the Chairman from room to room, in the lavatory, the Chairman's dressing room, even from one side of a room to another, should that seem warranted. Should an assassin suddenly appear, it is the detail's responsibility to physically move the Chairman out of danger, or kill the assassin, or, if necessary, take the bullet themselves. Bullet or knife or bomb or poisoned dart—whatever weapon is used. Here at the estate, the body detail ordinarily numbers only two. Tonight, though, they must be prepared for everything and anything. Prepared even for death.

  Especially for death.

  Machiko takes a tour of the hillsides. Experienced members are posted with latecomers to the Guard so that every team of GSG possesses a natural leader. The teams' positions on the hillsides are tactically sound. The few members Machiko pauses to scrutinize appear prepared for combat: uniforms, equipment, weapons. All properly outfitted.

  At the main entrance to the Chairman's home, Machiko finds Ujitaro. He sits cross-legged on the broad steps in the shadows of the curving pagoda-style roof, flanked by more than a dozen GSG. He looks like any other member of the Guard, except that he carries only sword and dagger for weapons. He has little need for physical weapons. His greatest weapons flow from within. H
e is a powerful mage, and all the more powerful for the powers of his snakes, the naga. Awakened creatures easily ten meters long and as weighty as an adult metahuman. It is said that the creatures are not merely sentient, but are also magically active, and that they serve to guard both Ujitaro and the Chairman from attacks via the astral plane.

  All Machiko knows for certain is that the naga's venom is no less deadly than a shot from a magnum automatic. She has seen the creatures take down heavily armed hostiles in body armor. It is a sight that encourages respect.

  Tonight, the naga lie across Ujitaro's shoulders and lap and across the width of the steps. As always, Ujitaro appears unaware of the serpents' weight.

  Machiko pauses and bows.

  "Nothing to report!" Ujitaro says in his harsh whisper. "Concern yourself with meat bodies and leave mana to me!"

  It is nearly a rebuke.

  Yet, rather than take insult, Machiko suffers another rise of uncertainty, a silken wave of dismay. All is in readiness. Gongoro has deployed the Guard expertly. Ujitaro has command of the astral and requires nothing of anyone. What is left for her to do? How is she to contribute? What should she be doing now?

  The night offers no immediate answers. She turns to look down the curving slope of the driveway to the gate. She feels a subtle yearning. She wishes Sukayo-san were here. Sukayo would know. He would know what to expect and how to prepare. He would evaluate the few scraps of data that have been pieced together so far and explain what it all must mean.

  "Younger sister," he has called her, too many times to count. And that is how she feels now. Young and untested.

  Out of her depth.

  Always she has seemed possessed of a mind and spirit best suited to the way of the sword, to martial discipline and individual combat. Till now, she has always been content to leave all larger matters concerning a world of enemies and a multitude of threats to her "older brother," and those with the breadth of understanding and the depth of wisdom to grasp such difficult arts as strategy, to determine what is the proper course. And now she feels regret, dismay. "Older brother" is not here now. The Guard is now her responsibility. She is the acting senior member. What will she do? What must she do?

  A first step abruptly comes to mind. She turns to Ryokai. "Where were you when attacked?"

  "At my condo."

  "You were sleeping?"

  He nods. "I had just laid down."

  "Was the assassin cyber-augmented?"

  Ryokai hesitates, frowning. "I am wondering about this myself, Machiko-san. He carried much equipment. I'm not sure if this was built in or merely strapped on."

  "What weapons did he use?"

  "He carried two Ingram smartguns and fired them in unison. He also had an Ares Predator II, which he used when the Ingrams ran out of ammo."

  "Did you have any warning of the attack?"

  "Not till he came near my bedroom door. The door was ajar. I heard him breathe. Then caught sight of his heat signature."

  "How did he make his attack?"

  "He opened fire as he came through the door. He pushed it inward with the toe of his boot. I anticipated the moment and managed to tumble from my bedding as he opened up. One shot nicked my scalp. Fortunately, I had my Ceska at hand. I snapped off three rounds and caught the assassin in the head, neck, and shoulder. Then the kill button split his skull." Machiko considers all this, but the mention of the Ceska briefly distracts her. Ryokai has always favored the Ceska 120 as a backup pistol. Its eccentric design appeals to him. Since their earliest days together at the GSG academy, he has always been intrigued by things that are quirky or unusual. His interest in the kiseru is just another example. He has quite an extensive collection of these ancient weapons, which resemble pipes for smoking tobacco, but are generally a meter in length, made of iron or steel, and come equipped with a handguard. They were used as truncheons by feudal-era yakuza, who, being of the common classes, were forbidden the use of swords.

  "How did you deal with your assassin, Machiko-san?"

  Machiko explains in brief what occurred with her, then says, "Consider this, Ryokai-son. One assassin crashes into my room like a rhino and unleashes a storm of automatic weapons fire. The other, attacking you, exercises a degree more subtlety, but carries SMGs favored by so-called 'street samurai.' Do these seem like the methods of professional assassins? These killers go about their tasks all wrong."

  "Their methods do seem crude."

  Machiko nods. "If I were to undertake an assassination, I would choose my ground with care, and utilize timing, to ensure that I could close with my target, and then take my target's head with one clean stroke of my sword. There would be no hail of bullets. No confrontation. No discernible noise. It would be like a formal execution. One clean stroke."

  "It might be hours before the bodies were discovered."

  "Precisely." Machiko nods agreement.

  "And yet both assassins did succeed at two relatively difficult tasks."

  "Finding us."

  "Yes. And getting to us."

  Finding Ryokai at home could have been luck, but finding Machiko at her parent's home, rather than at her own condo, that hints at more than mere luck. It would take planning. Perhaps even the support of a skilled decker. The Nagato Manor Residence Community where Machiko's parents live is Nagato-owned, but operated and secured by a subsidiary, and that subsidiary maintains a complete security establishment. A skilled decker with experience at sleazing information from computers could have breached the Residence Community's computer system and determined that Machiko had been cleared through the Community's main entrance earlier in the evening.

  Further, neither assassin set off any alarms while making their penetrations. This definitely speaks of a decker's support. A sufficiently skilled Matrix operative might seize control of windows and doors and other facility devices, so that an assassin might penetrate a "secured" facility merely by placing one foot ahead of the other.

  "Amateurs," Gongoro growls.

  Machiko breathes. She turns to face Gongoro, and says, "Amateurs did not kill Mitsuharu-san and Jiksumi-san."

  "What do you know of it?"

  "I have seen them fight!"

  "You forget. Mitsuharu has been on medication since his oral surgery. Jiksumi indulged too often in wine."

  This changes nothing. "Perhaps the killers were not trained as assassins. That does not make them amateurs. No amateur would survive against Sukayo-san. And the extensive augmentations of the killer who came for me indicates a highly paid operative. A skilled combatant. To do what they have done takes discipline and organization."

  Gongoro sneers. "Like teppodama."

  The idea gives Machiko pause.

  Teppodama are "bullets." The term is used to refer to the occasional need for the lowest-sanked members of a clan, the kobun, to perform tasks like those of a warrior. Kobun are rarely warriors of a degree comparable to members of the Guard, but they may at times be called upon, like warriors, to demonstrate their loyalty to the clan by placing themselves at risk. They may risk injury or death, or perhaps only the chance of arrest and imprisonment. The point is that they must be prepared to prove themselves in ways that go beyond mere words, not only for the clan but for the oyabun, or the Chairman, as Honjowara-sama is properly called.

  "You conceive of some similarity between these killers and loyal kobun?" Machiko says.

  "They are muscle!" Gongoro growls. "Nothing more than muscle. The killers were crude. They relied upon brute force."

  "But the killers' augmentations," Ryokai says.

  "This proves nothing!" Gongoro exclaims. "I could go into Manhattan's Terminal zone and be outfitted with a mountain of surplus cyberware for nothing more than the price of a Tachi Monarch." To Machiko, Gongoro says, "If this killer had been so highly paid and efficient, you would be dead."

  Indeed, Machiko feels compelled to admit, if only to herself, that Gongoro does have a point. The mere presence of extensive cybernetic augmentations does
not prove anything. The metal could be junk, so much non-functional dead weight. But there is another point Gongoro misses. "You were not there," Machiko says. "You do not know how close this killer came."

  "I know that you live."

  Machiko steps near him, to within one arm's length, and says, "I live because I sought death."

  And there the discussion pauses.

  Gongoro dares not sneer. Machiko makes it this way deliberately. Once her words are spoken, she waits, holding Gongoro's gaze. She feels again the grip of her katana in her hand, though the sword remains slung at her back, and the unyielding spirit that led her to defeat her attacker, her enemy. Gongoro recognizes this. She sees the recognition in his expression, growing wary, and in his eyes, becoming hesitant, uncertain. At length, she sees it in the brief bow of acknowledgment he accords her. Thus he admits that, regardless of the killer's skill, she has gone where few would dare, where fewer still have the spirit to survive. She has gone to death, faced death, embraced it. A failure to honor this would be a very grave affront, demanding an immediate response.

  Ryokai bows as well.

  "I speak out of loyalty to the Honjowara-gumi," Gongoro says, and this once his tone is nearly civil. "I tell you these killers are muscle. They are kobun!"

  "Of what clan?"

  "The Yoshida-kai."

  This would seem absurd but for the immense gravity of the circumstance. The Nagato Combine is composed of three main clans: the Honjowara-gumi, the Toki-gumi, and the Yoshida-kai. What Gongoro is suggesting is that a staunch ally of the Chairman and his Honjowara-gumi has for all intents and purposes committed treason."

  "That is a remarkable opinion, Gongoro-san," Machiko says in her quietist voice. "An opinion that could lead us all onto dangerous ground."

  "Do you fear such opinions?"

  "What I fear is that you are insane. What kami whispers into your ear that you would conceive of such nonsense?"