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"I don't even know what it is. "
"He said it was the key to your scrambler code.
I looked at it more carefully. It was definitely a
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circuit of some kind, although you'd need a lab to tell
you what it would be used for. According to her, this
little hunk of plastic was capable of analyzing a voice
print, assigning each point of it a numerical value, then
scrambling the values according to the AXE code. It
seemed like a tall order for something so small.
She must have guessed what I was thinking. "Don 't
discount little things, " she said. "Sometimes it's the
little things that are most important. "
I sat down on the bed and pulled the phone over. "l
have to make a call," I said, dialing with one hand
while I held the gun on her with the other. Mattingly
answered on the second ring.
'*Our mysterious Lady of the Orient has put in a
reappearance," I said.
"I see. "
He hung up and I put the phone back on the table.
"Now, let me get this straight, " I said, turning back
to her. "Your brother. What's his name?"
"Yoshitsune. '
"Yoshitsune Minamoto. Where've I heard that be-
fore?"
s 'In Japan he is considered a genius."
'SSure. Yoshitsune Minamoto, the computer genius.
He's one of the men responsible for developing the
micro-processing circuit to begin with. "
' 'A mad genius, I'm afraid, Nick. "
' 'That so? ' ' I rolled the computer chip back and forth
between my fingers, thinking. ' 'What's he look like,
this brother of yours?"
"He's smaller than you, broad shoulders .
"Is he bald?"
"Yes. "
"With lumps of scar tissue where his temples should
be?"
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NICK CARTER
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this brother of yours?"
"He's smaller than you, broad shoulders .
"Is he bald?"
"Yes. "
"With lumps of scar tissue where his temples should
be?"
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NICK CARTER
g 'My brother has done extensive experimentation in
electrode implantation. Unfonunately, his own brain
was the only safe ground he could experiment on. "
"Does he like to gamble?"
"Yes. He has a passion for it. He's made a great deal
of money gambling. Nick, I can understan you have to
ask me these questions, but can't you see how difficult
it is for me?" Her eyelids beat back tears.
"What makes you say hess mad?"
don 't know. He's changed. I hardly know him any
more. When we were growing up. he was always so
•nd, so protective of me. He believed in the old
samurai traditions. Then I went away to school in San
rancisco and when I came back, he wouldn "t even talk
o me. It was as though I'd deserted him. "
"Is that what made him mad?"
'I don 't know what made him mad, but when I came
omc, he'd changed. He said the West made him sick,
at Western culture had Japan of everything
at had made her great. It was crazy to listen to him,
e'd get started and go on about it for hours. It got to
e point where I was afraid to say anything to him at all
or fear he'd launch into another of his tirades.
"And his work .
He loved electronics. He used
o sit me down and tell me of all the wonderful things it
as possible to do, all the marvels he could create for
nkind. I'd watch his face when he talked like that
d it always excited me. He made it all sound so
onvincing .
"But then that changed," I said.
"Yes. Shortly after I returned from the States he
ttended an international exposition in micro-electron-
cs. He read a paper in front of the reviewing commit-
, stating publicly that the U.S. was responsible for
ost of the problems in Japan—our rising inflation
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ems In apan—our nslng Inflation
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rate, the softness of our youth, the drugs that infest our
culture, the erosion of our old, better way of life. The
paper was denounced as false and misleading, but there
were a few who agreed with my brother.
' 'He went on to read other papers and to publish
articles—all with the same anti-American theme. He
tmame something of an embarrassment to his col-
leagues, I think. His work was discredited, even the
originality of some of his inventions was questioned.
"Eventually, he became bitter, and instead of a pas-
sion, his work tEcame an obsession. He became deter-
mined to show the world he was right. He started doing
wild, dangerous things, like the electrodes he put in his
brain. After a while, even his close friends deserted
him. Now I 'm the only one left who will go near him. "
She was crying when she finished. Not out loud, but,
her small shoulders were shaking with sobs. I put
Wilhelmina down on the and waited for her to
continue.
' 'I'm sorry," she said after a few minutes, pulling
herself erect in the chair and daintily blowing her nose.
"It's just that these last few months have been such a
trial for both of us, my brother and me. He doesn 't want
to do the things he's doings Nick. He's struggling to
hold on to his sanity. "
"I believe you," I said. I took a pack of my special
brand of cigarettes from the night table and offered her
one. She took it. I lit it with my lighter, then went back
and sat on the bed while she tossed her mane of black
hair and blew out a hamed-looking jet of smoke.
"How did AXE get involved in all this? And why
me?" I asked.
SSA while ago my brother trcame interested in
codes. He thought it might be a good way to harass the
Americans. Then he started to amass a great deal of
86
NICK CARTER
money by gambling. He has a system that can't fail.
And with the money and what he'd learned about en-
coding procedures, he hit on another plan. "
' 'What was that?"
' 'I don't know. He wouldn't discuss it with me.





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me.
SSA while ago my brother trcame interested in
codes. He thought it might be a good way to harass the
Americans. Then he started to amass a great deal of
86
NICK CARTER
money by gambling. He has a system that can't fail.
And with the money and what he'd learned about en-
coding procedures, he hit on another plan. "
' 'What was that?"
' 'I don't know. He wouldn't discuss it with me.
About a year ago he started working in secret. Since
then I 've only seen him intermittently. Once when he
asked me to go to Arizona and join the AXE staff, and
when he gave me the chip to bring here. "
There was a knock at the door and I got up and
opened it. It was Mattingly, who came in wide-eyed,
taking everything in at a glance.
"She's all right," I told him. "It's her brother we
have to worry about."
He nodded, still looking at her. "What's your
name?" he asked abruptly.
"Gigi. "
"Gigi, you mustn't leave in such a hurry next time.
You tend to make people suspicious. Especially, when
you forget your coat. " He picked the Stole off the arm
of the easy chair and handed it to her.
'Thank you, " she said coldly. She took the fur and
wrapped it around her, then to me she said, "I wouldn't
want to lose it. It was a gift from Yoshitsune."
"That would be the brother," said Mattingly.
"That's right," I said.
Mattingly pulled up the easy chair so that we were all
sitting in a tight three-sided circle. 'So, now that every-
thing 's out in the open and we 're all such good friends,
maybe somebody would like to tell me what this is all
about. s'
I quickly explained to him what Gigi had told me
about her brother and the challenge he 'd sent along with
the computer chip,
THE LAST SAMURAI
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When I 'd finished, Mattingly said, ' 'So that's it. He
wan
fight you. That's patently absurd. "




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thing 's out in the open and we 're all such good friends,
maybe somebody would like to tell me what this is all
about. s'
I quickly explained to him what Gigi had told me
about her brother and the challenge he 'd sent along with
the computer chip,
THE LAST SAMURAI
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When I 'd finished, Mattingly said, ' 'So that's it. He
wants to fight you. That's patently absurd. "
"Why?"
"Why? Nick, old boy, you're not actually consider-
ing it?"
haven't decided. Why?"
"It's obviously a trap, and not particularly well-
baited at that. We don't need this chip or whatever's
emtrdded in this man's chest. The code's been de-
ciphered. The entire system will have to be scrapped
anyway. "
"Wouldn't you like to know how it was done?"
"Not at the risk of my life. Or yours."
W 'Nick, both of you, please," Gigi interjected.
"You're forgetting my brother is not a well man. He
should be subdued without violence and taken some-
where he can get the rest and care he needs. "
"Madam, excuse me." said Mattingly, turning on
her, ' 'but there is more at stake here than one man's
sanity. "
"All right, you two," I said. "John, maybe we
should discuss this in private. I stood up and put
Wilhelmina in her holster and stuffed the holster in my
robe. Then I surveyed the room, trying to decide if it
was all right to leave Gigi in here alone. "This won't
take long, " I told her. Then I motioned to Mattingly
and we adjourned to the balcony.
I closed the glass doors behind us, but didn't lock
them. He stood facing me with his back to the railing.
"Keep an eye on her while we talk," I said.
"I thought you Ousted her."
"I don't uust anyone, not even you. Now tell me.
why are you opposed to this?"
"You're going to go, aren't you?"



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"Yes. "
NICK CARTER
I
*'It's crazy. The man is a maniac and this time you
might not be so lucky. I •m telling you it's a trap, "
"Look, let me tell you something. I 'm going to fight
this man just the way he wants me to for two very good
reasons. First. that chip may be valuable. I don 't know.
You don't know. I'm not a data-systems expert and
neither are you.
"Seconds Gigi's right. The man has to be stopped.
There's no telling how much he's found out. Besides
that, he's a homocidal maniac. This time he 's managed
to narrow his hatred to me alone. Next time the rest of
the world might not be so lucky. "
"l guess you 're right, he conceded.
Mattingly and I had been looking directly at one
another for several minutes. Finally, he glanced over
my shoulder. "She's gone," he said.









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Ten
Mattingly was the first one back in the room. There
was no sign of her. He checked the bathroom while I
searched the hall in both directions.
S 'Ihat was stupid," I said when I came back in,
referring to the fact I'd left her alone. ' 'Still, I can't
imagine why she'd leave. "
' 'You don 't know? I would say the lady is quite taken
with you. " Mattingly picked up a manila card that had
been left on the coffee table and handed it to me.
Written in a flowing hand was an address: 30 Rue de la
Mer, number 14.
g 'Think this is a trap, too?" I asked, needling him a
little.
' 'It wouldn 't matter if it were. It doesn 't do any good
to warn you. "
"l '11 have to look into it, " I said, putting the card in
the pocket of my robe.
"Yes, I'm sure you will. " From his tone it was clear
he wasn't happy with this turn of events. He cleared his
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NICK CARTER
throat as a signal that he would be going. "I'll
leaving now. You •re going through with this then?" hev
asked in reference to the fight with Minamoto.
"Yes. "
"Very well. If I don't hear from you in thirty-six!
hours, I'll inform Washington. 't
'Right. i"
He walked to the door and turned around. "Good
luck," he said. Then he opened it and left.
I locked the door behind him, took off my robe and
started to dress. I strapped Wilhelmina into her familiar
spot under my arm and tightened the buckles on Hugo '
chamois case. I flexed my arm to make sure he was
secure, then I grabbed my cashmere jacket and left.
Thirty Rue de Ia Mer was only a shon cab ride away
a Spanish style oblong apartment building right in the
center of town. By the time I got there it was after te
o'clock. I paid the driver and started up the shrubbery
lined sidewalk to the front door,
Around me the Monacan night-life hummed
Couples ambled aimlessly up and down the boulevard
The air was damp and smelled faintly of salt. I realized
that although I 'd been in town over twenty-four hours;
this was the first time I'd been out in the city and it all
seemed a trifle disorienting.
I opened the door to the front vestibule, went in, and
pushed the button for number fourteen.
' 'Who is it?" asked a tiny voice over the intercom.
'*Nick.
The door buzzed and I went up. Gigi answered when
I knocked on her door, wearing a kimono. She didn't
say anything. I came in and she bustled past me into the
kitchen. She had pinned her hair on the top of her head
and from the back you could see the soft, luxuriant
black shadow at the nape of her neck.
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While she was gone, I took a quick look around. It
was a modest apartment, although in Monte Carlo even
a lean-to is expensive. The furniture had come with the
place, the kind that usually does, but she'd added a
touch here and there to make it seem more like home. A
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and from the back you could see the soft, luxuriant
black shadow at the nape of her neck.
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While she was gone, I took a quick look around. It
was a modest apartment, although in Monte Carlo even
a lean-to is expensive. The furniture had come with the
place, the kind that usually does, but she'd added a
touch here and there to make it seem more like home. A
scroll painting hung on one wall and there was a spare
Japanese flower arrangement in a rectangular in the
comer.
In the center of the room the furniture had
pushed back and a low, black-lacquered wood table
was surrounded by cushions for kneeling. On the table
was a tea service for two.
She came into the room carrying a small tray with a
fragile-looking white stoneware on it. "Please
sit down," she said.
I remembered my manners and slipped off my shoes.
Then I kneeled at the table and waited while she poured
the tea. I knew from previous a-ips to Japan what a great
deal of importance they placed on the ceremony of
drinking tea. To the Japanese it is more than a polite
conversational gesture; it is a sacred ritual, a rite that if
performed correctly can heal the wounds be-
tween two Frople.
She poured tea into two tiny cups and handed one to
me.
"These are very beautiful cups, " I said, remember-
ing it always polite to praise the china.
g 'They are very old. ney have been in my family
over four hundred years. "
We drank. When we put down our cups, I opened
witha m.lmp. S' You left my room in a hell ofahurry this
evening. We were a little surprised to find you gone. "
"lt was that man."
"Mattingly?"
"I don't think he intended to help my brother."
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NICK CARTER
S 'Perhaps not, but he's not a bad man really; he's just
suspicious for obvious reasons. "




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We drank. en we put own our cups,
witha m.lmp. S' You left my room in a hell ofahurry this
evening. We were a little surprised to find you gone. "
"lt was that man."
"Mattingly?"
"I don't think he intended to help my brother."
92
NICK CARTER
S 'Perhaps not, but he's not a bad man really; he's just
suspicious for obvious reasons. "
She didn't answer.
I rolled my tea cup back and forth on the table in front
of me, absently staring at the pattern of tea leaves
strewn on the bottom. don •t know if I can help your
brother either, " I said. "If it comes down to it, I may
have to kill him. "
What I said hung in the air like a stale odor. It took a
long time for her to speak. For several seconds she
stared into a corner of the room, then said, "If it has to
be done, I'm glad you were the one chosen to do it. '
I made no answer to this, and in a few minutes she
arranged the cups and tea pot on the tray and carried
them out to the kitchen.
Several more minutes passed. She didn 't return and I
couldn't hear her. I was on the verge of getting up and
going into the other room to see if anything was wrong,
when she came back with another tray, this time with a
pack of expensive English cigarettes, an ashtray, and a
brightly-decorated pack of wooden matches.
She set the tray down on the table, then knelt at an
angle, turning only her profile to me. The skin of her
cheeks glistened with tears.
"In my country years ago, " she began, "when men
and women of the high-born class were not allowed to
mingle, it was sometimes difficult for a girl to speak
directly to a man. She would turn her head. as I am
doing now, so that she could not see whether the words
that came from her heart made him angry or pleased
him.
"We nwt under a false pretense, you and I. My
brother forged my security clearance and got me a
position on the AXE staff so that I could meet you and
challenge you to a karate match. The purpose I was tolC
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was to test you to see if you were worthy of fighting my
brother. I was not supposed to fall in love with you.
"But who can possibly predict these things? If you
hadn't been so gallant in accepting my challenge, or
made me ache so with desire to look at you, our sparring
contest might not have come to such an abrupt and
unexpected conclusion.
"Now in a few hours you 'II be fighting with Yoshit-
sune, trying to kill one another. And whichever of the
two of you wins, I lose. "
At this point she broke into tears and couldn't stop. I
got up and came around to her side of the table, knelt
down and held her. She made no effort to stop crying;
she let it flow. s 'I just wanted you to understand, " she
said between gulps, "why I acted the way I did at the
hotel. I couldn't face you. "
She buried her head in my shoulder and sobbed,
convulsing like a tiny wounded bird. I ran my hand
down her long black hair. We stayed like this for
several minutes while she cried and cried.
Finally, it seemed as though she'd spent it all. She
was like a baby crying itself to sleep, only she wasn't
asleep. She lay in my arms silently for a few minutes,
then she pulled back and looked at me.
S'Make love •to me, Nick, " she said.
I kissed her. It wasn't like it had been before. She
was all emotion now. nere was no restraint, no hold-
ing back out of fear. She yielded to me and engulfed me
at the same time.
J opened her kimono. Her skin was warm. I buried
my head between her breasts and her arms reached up
and encircled me. She was crying again.
"Don't stop. Please, ' ' she whisperedA didn't intend
to and quickly undressed.
I kissed her stomach. She was beginning to make low
NICK CARTER
moaning sounds in her throat. It was a beautiful throat. I
reached up and kissed that,
Her breathing was coming faster and faster, but I
went on kissing and stroking. telling myself to pa-
ti nt. to wait until she ached for me. But the teuth was I




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and encirc me.
e was crying again.
"Don't stop. Please, ' ' she whisperedA didn't intend
to and quickly undressed.
I kissed her stomach. She was beginning to make low
NICK CARTER
moaning sounds in her throat. It was a beautiful throat. I
reached up and kissed that,
Her breathing was coming faster and faster, but I
went on kissing and stroking. telling myself to pa-
tient, to wait until she ached for me. But the ü•uth was I
didn 't want to stop. Each movement was a communica-
tion between us, a message relayed and understood.
Finally I entered her, a long, slow surge. She gripped
my shoulders and gasped.
After that, it was like a swim in a river of forgetful-
ness. I thinking and lost myself in feeling. It
wasn 't anything like what it had been in Ph(knix. After
battling one another for almost an hour, our love-
making had explosive, torrid. Now it was gentle,
full of consideration for the other.
Every time she moved, she taught me something new
about her body, some new way to excite her, I rubbed
against her. fell back, came forward. Everything was
new as though I'd never done it before.
Eventually, I felt the first hints of those familiar
forces building in my lower body. The peak was com-
ing. fought it, wanting it and not wanting it at the same
time. Finally it overtook me whether I wanted it to or
not, and I slammed my body against her's with amazing
force. I crossed the threshold and hung in midair for
what seemed an eternity, then fell, pumping, pumping,
floating down, down, until I was adrift on a r*rfectly
calm sea.
She 'd reached her peak at exactly the same moment,
grabbed me and shrieked, then let herself go. Now we
were enmeshed in one another. I couldn 't tell where her
body ended and mine began.
We lay still a long while. I didn 't 01*n my eyes until I
felt her stir. We were on the floor. The table had been
pushed aside and the cushions scattered.
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I rolled over on my back and she rolled on top of me,
clinging to me. I rocked her back and forth in my arms
like a child until she relaxed. She swallowed hard and I
knew from her face that she was her composed self
again. She knew what had to done and she'd re-
signed herself to it.
Still neither of us wanted to move. She began kissing
my arms and neck. She stopped when she came to the
blue, black, and yellow bruise on the side of my rib
cage.
'*How did that happen?" she asked, touching it
tenderly with the tips of her fingers.
"Your brother. "
She nodded, then rolled off me, pulled her kimono
around herself and sat up.
"Where do I find him?'" I asked.
She pulled her knees up to her chin and rested her
head. She looked like finely chiseled marble. "I don 't
want to tell you. "
"You're going to have to. "
She got to her feet suddenly and walked to a desk set
against the wall. She pulled out a sheet of paper, wrote
on it quickly, then came back and handed it to me.
"He bought a mansion out along the coast. It used tc
be a French villa, but he's remodeled it. There's a big
wooden gate. You can 't miss it. " She said this without
the slightest twinge of feeling.
I opened the sheet. The address was on it. I folded it
back up again.
"You 're going now? How can you make love to me,
then turn around and go out and try and kill my
brother?"
I couldn't say anything. I just looked at her.
*'Don't answer. Go. Go on," she said, a note of
weariness in her voice.
NICK CARTER
I stood up, gathered my clothes, and began dressing.
It took awhile. I had Wilhelmina to strap on. I hadn't
bothered to remove Hugo. He was still attached to my
She stared at me sadly from the floor. It was as
though she didn't have any feeling left.
I took my jacket and was about to leave. '*Nick!' • she




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n answer.
weariness in her voice.
NICK CARTER
I stood up, gathered my clothes, and began dressing.
It took awhile. I had Wilhelmina to strap on. I hadn't
bothered to remove Hugo. He was still attached to my
She stared at me sadly from the floor. It was as
though she didn't have any feeling left.
I took my jacket and was about to leave. '*Nick! 'i she
burst out as I headed to the door. She ran up and threw
her arms around me, pressing her body against mine.
The smell of her hair, the smooth feel of her back under
my hands started that old tension deep in my gut. I
wanted her again.
S 'Please, don't. Don't," she sobbed.
I pulled her arms from around my neck and looked
sternly into her face. nen I gently lifted her chin with
my finger. Her lip was quivering. I kissed it, then I
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Eleven
I took a cab back to the hotel and went down below to
the underground parking lot to get the Porsche out. ne
attendant's cage was locked, however, with a sign in
the window telling me in French, English, and German
that after eleven thirty keys were kept upstairs at the
front desk.
I took the elevator to the first floor, crossed the
practically deserted lobby and presented my parking
stub to the young man on duty. He memorized the
number and disappeared into a small office t*hind the
desk. When he returned, he had my keys in one hand
and an envelope in the other.
'This came for you while you were out, Monsieur. ' '
' 'Thank you," I said.
I recrossed the lobby and pressed the button for the
elevator. While I waited, opened the envelope and
read.
There were two sheets. One was a note from Mat-
tingly. The other was a telex addressed with the usual
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Amalgamated Press cover, indicating it was confiden
tial from Hawk 's office, but not with enough priority to
be coded. I read the telex first.
It was headed, s 'RE: Analysis Object #537010. 't
Object #537010, I remembered, was the plastic film
cartridge I'd found in the apartment in Ann Arbor. I'd
sent it into the lab while I was in Washington and it had
taken all this time to catch up to me.
The body of the report was mostly technical: a break
down of the plastic used, the date and location of
manufacture, a list of possible outlets where it might
have been purchased. At the bottom it said, ' 'PROBAé
BLE USE: casette insert for Bashe IF ICN) 16mm motion
picture film. " The letters "IF' ' had been underlined b
Hawk, in red ink as usual.
I folded the report and stuck it in my jacket pocket,
thinking I'd digest it later. Then I read the note from
Mattingly. It was nothing. just an introduction to the
telex, saying he 'd received it through channels and was
passing it along. I crumbled it up and threw it in a trash
barrel as I was walking through the lot.
The significance of Hawk •s underline didn't hit me
until fifteen minutes later while I was in the Porsche
breezing through the streets of downtown Monte Carlo'
' 'IF" stood for infra-red. The entire episode in the
basement of that house had been photographed in the
dark using infra-red film. But why?
I went through the checkpoint that separates Monaco
from France, took a left and started climbing the brid
hill that would take me out of town.
There are two main highways running betweer
Monte Carlo and Nice: La Grande Cornishe, the one
took in from the airport, which skirts the edges of thc
cliffs eight hundred feet above the shoreline and
considered spectacular if too dangerous for general use
THE LAST SAMURAI
99
and La Petite Cornishe, a more recent road mostly for
the trnefit of commuters, which is cut through the
jagged rocks closer to the ocean. The address Gigi gave
me was located roughly halfway to Nice off La Petite
Cornishe.




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took in from the airport, which skirts the edges of thc
cliffs eight hundred feet above the shoreline and
considered spectacular if too dangerous for general use
THE LAST SAMURAI
99
and La Petite Cornishe, a more recent road mostly for
the trnefit of commuters, which is cut through the
jagged rocks closer to the ocean. The address Gigi gave
me was located roughly halfway to Nice off La Petite
Cornishe.
came up a rise into a narrow place between two
outcroppings of rock where the road curved away from
the sea. On the other side was an auxiliary road leading
down to the shore, over the entrance of which was a
massive wooden arch in the shape of a pagoda. She was
right. You couldn't miss it.
I took a left and drove down about a hundred yards
until I found an opening in the wall of thick shrubbery
that bordered the drive. I pulled into the bushes, turned
offthe lights, and cut the engine. Ihen I slipped out and
closed the car door as tightly as I could without slam-
ming it.
These precautions were no doubt a waste of time. In
all probability I was expected down below just as I had
been in Ann Arbor and aboard St. Germaine's yacht,
but old habits die hard.
I walked down the remainder of the drive. The full
moon created shadows on the asphalt like a midday sun.
There was a fierce switch-back, then a gradual curve,
and the driveway leveled out and ended in a broad
parking area in front of a four-door garage.
I walked to the edge of the parking area and peered
over the waist-high, stone retaining wall that sur-
rounded it. Below me, down eighty feet of sheer rock
face, the surf roiled in the crags. Looking toward the
house and on up the coast the breaking waves created a
necklace of silver in the moon's light.
The house itself abutted the sea on a foundation Of
solid rock and in the moonlight looked big enough to
bivouac a regiment. Gigi was right. Obviously, at one
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NICK CARTER
time it had been a millionaire's villa done in the usu




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took in from the airport, which skirts the edges of thc
cliffs eight hundred feet above the shoreline and
considered spectacular if too dangerous for general use
THE LAST SAMURAI
99
and La Petite Cornishe, a more recent road mostly for
the trnefit of commuters, which is cut through the
jagged rocks closer to the ocean. The address Gigi gave
me was located roughly halfway to Nice off La Petite
Cornishe.
came up a rise into a narrow place between two
outcroppings of rock where the road curved away from
the sea. On the other side was an auxiliary road leading
down to the shore, over the entrance of which was a
massive wooden arch in the shape of a pagoda. She was
right. You couldn't miss it.
I took a left and drove down about a hundred yards
until I found an opening in the wall of thick shrubbery
that bordered the drive. I pulled into the bushes, turned
offthe lights, and cut the engine. Ihen I slipped out and
closed the car door as tightly as I could without slam-
ming it.
These precautions were no doubt a waste of time. In
all probability I was expected down below just as I had
been in Ann Arbor and aboard St. Germaine's yacht,
but old habits die hard.
I walked down the remainder of the drive. The full
moon created shadows on the asphalt like a midday sun.
There was a fierce switch-back, then a gradual curve,
and the driveway leveled out and ended in a broad
parking area in front of a four-door garage.
I walked to the edge of the parking area and peered
over the waist-high, stone retaining wall that sur-
rounded it. Below me, down eighty feet of sheer rock
face, the surf roiled in the crags. Looking toward the
house and on up the coast the breaking waves created a
necklace of silver in the moon's light.
The house itself abutted the sea on a foundation Of
solid rock and in the moonlight looked big enough to
bivouac a regiment. Gigi was right. Obviously, at one
100
NICK CARTER
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taænmoout
the retaining wall above the water, jump down into thg
n-IE LAST SAMURAI
10t
courtyard and try my luck with one of the big french
I chose the french doors, thinking that would be the
way he 'd least expect me, and climbed the wall where it
met the wall of the garage. nere was space enough to
inch my way along, maybe a hand's span or two, but
there was nothing to hold on to but the smooth wall of
the garage. The sea t*low me, and now and
then the up-draft brought a misting of spray to give me a
foretaste of what would happen if I slipped.
At the far end of the garage wall, I ran into a far more
perilous obstacle, A space of several yards divided the
rear of the garage and the courtyard, and for two or
three steps I'd have to be tightrope walking without so
much as a pole to balance myself: and the wind out here
was a good deal more vicious than it had been back at
the parking lot.
As I stepped out cautiously, leaving the garage wall
behind, the wind roared and whipped my pants against
my legs. It did its insidious best to knock me off the few
inches of solidity I stood up on, blowing me hard
toward the house—forcing me to comrEnsate in that
direction—then stopping all of a sudden, so that my
attempt to balance myself almost toppled me into the
sea.
I took a step, then another. Again the wind shifted,
pushing me from the rear. I went down on one knee, but
the knee missed the top of the wall and I slid off, the
edge of the rocks scrapping along my side,
I hung on for dear life by my hands, my feet dangling
over eighty feet of nothingness. I had to pull myself up,
throw a leg over the top somehow, but that meant
pressure on my hand grip, and on the wind-and-water-
smoothed rocks my fingers were already starting to
separate and disengage.
102
NICK CARTER
The only thing left was to swing back and fonh and
build up some momentum. I pulled to the left, and when
I swung back to the right. I strained and shot out my leg.
My knee hit the stones a half foot below the top and I



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overer ty eeto no Ingness.
opu
throw a leg over the top somehow, but that meant
pressure on my hand grip, and on the wind-and-water-
smoothed rocks my fingers were already starting to
separate and disengage.
102
NICK CARTER
I
The only thing left was to swing back and fonh and
build up some momentum. I pulled to the left, and when
I swung back to the right. I strained and shot out my leg.
My knee hit the stones a half foot below the top and I
fell back.
I hung there for a minute, trying to think, the wind
screaming in my ears. After that last effort my hands
had slipped an inch closer to disaster. I had to try again,
but this time I couldn't afford to fall short.
I swung to the left. then to the right, then back to the
left again, the pain in my hands telling me how desper-
ate this was. I came back to the right as hard as possible,
threw my knee and missed, but managed to catch on
with my foot. With that added hold I was able to pull the
knee and with it the rest of my body back over the ridge,
until I was in a straddle B)sition on top of the wall.
I shinnied along, keeping flat, until my right foot hit
the wall surrounding the courtyard. Then I threw my leg
over and let myself down, dropping into the shrubbery.
I lay there a minute, listening for sounds of having
awakened anyone. No one came but the roar of the
(wean and the wind.
The courtyard was empty and the moonlight on the
white gravel gave it an eerie, unearthly quality. I got up
and walked across to the six black oblongs the french
doors made in the side of the house. Carefully, I tried
the second from the end. It was locked. I cupped my
hands and peered through the pane, but could see noth-
ing inside.
I checked the rest of the doors and found all locked;
then I went back to the second door. The lock was one
of those that are so simple, they defy the burglar's art.
There was no keyhole, just a brass deadbolt thrown
with latch from the other side.
I had no choice. I found a hefty stone, covered it with
THE LAST SAMURAI
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THE LAST SAMURAI
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my handkerchief, tapped on one of the panes until it
broke, and waited for the alarm t*ll,
The surf pounded, the wind hummed above the
courtyard, and that was all.
I opened the door and slipped in. The rncx)nlight
streamed through the panes of the glass doors and fell in
rectangular patterns across a wide floor of checker-
board tiles. I slipped Wilhelmina out of her holster and
hurried toward the opposite wall. The room was large;
at one time it might have been used as a ballroom or
dining hall. Now, as far as I could see, it was empty.
When I reached the other side, I pressed my back flat
against a door where light was visible through the
cracks. I waited a few seconds, then pulled it open.
Through the door was a hallway, although not the
kind you'd expect to find in a house. It was more like a
comdor in an office building—empty. The walls were
painted a unifonn, sterile gray, and the ceiling was lit
with a series of square florescent light fixtures.
I came out cautiously, pulling the door shut behind
me. The hall ran in three directions, to my right, my
left, and straight ahead. In each wall were doors spaced
every few feet. I chose the right, walked down a way
and tried the first door. It was locked. I tried another on
the other side. It was locked, too.
After I'd tried the second one, I realized there was
something strange about both these doors. They didn't
rattle in their jambs the way a door will when it isn 't fit
exactly snug into its frame. ney were immovable. It
made me wonder if they were really doors at all, or just
knobs screwed in place.
I tried several more, all with the same result. When I
came to the end of the hatl I turned around and went
back to my starting point. Out of curiosity, I tried the
door I'd just come through. It wouldn't budge.
104
NICK CARTER
I shook it. The knob began to come loose, but the
door stood solid as an oak. Flexing my wrist, I ejected
Hugo into the palm of my hand. Over the years he's
gotten me through a lot of doors. I inserted his needle
point into the lock in an effort to separate the tumblers,
onlv he wouldn't 20 in. I trnt down and discovered the






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came
back to my starting point. Out of curiosity, I tried the
door I'd just come through. It wouldn't budge.
104
NICK CARTER
I shook it. The knob began to come loose, but the
door stood solid as an oak. Flexing my wrist, I ejected
Hugo into the palm of my hand. Over the years he's
gotten me through a lot of doors. I inserted his needle
point into the lock in an effort to separate the tumblers,
only he wouldn't go in. I trnt down and discovered the
reason why. The keyhole was plugged with steel.
I shcx:rk the door again, but it was like trying to pry a
rock out of a sheer stone cliff. I was locked in. If I was
going to get out, it wasn't going to this way.
But I decided I couldn 't worry about that now. nere
was a bigger question: Did the fact the door was locked
mean someone knew I was here, or had it locked au-
tomatically when I shut it?
I was standing there. running this through my mind,
my hand still on the knob, when something happened
that made me wonder if I were seeing right: The
corridor-wall directly in front of me began to move.
Silently, fluidly, the end of the hall came forward a
full fifteen feet and then stopped, Then another section
to the left fell away, forming another wholly new
branch to the corridor.
I was dumbfounded. After a few seconds the ma-
neuver was complete and everything stopped. I waited
a few anxious seconds to see if anything else would
happen, then I went down to examine the new section.
It was nothing, a dead end like the others, with doors
spaced at intervals on either side. I u-ied one. but it
wouldn't open—as I'd much suspected would be the
case. I checked the joint where the two walls came
together. he seal was perfect. If I hadn't seen it hap-
pen, I'd never have known.
This brought up the possibility that may& the walls
had shifted earlier while I was testing the doors and I
hadn 't seen them. Then the door I thought was the one I
THE LAST SAMURAI
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used to come in might not have been that door at all.
Maybe it was another door and wasn't locked in.





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case. I checked the joint where the two walls came
together. he seal was perfect. If I hadn't seen it hap-
pen, I'd never have known.
This brought up the possibility that may& the walls
had shifted earlier while I was testing the doors and I
hadn 't seen them. Then the door I thought was the one I
THE LAST SAMURAI
105
used to come in might not have been that door at all.
Maybe it was another door and wasn't locked in.
I started back to where ltd been standing the
walls began to move, came around the corner and
stopped short. The entire partition at the far end where
I'd been, doors and all. disappeared as another section
rolled in and sealed the area off. If I had any doubts
about being trapped in here, they evaporated.
At the same time a section moved at the opposite end
of the new comdor I 'd just been examining, thus open-
ing another extension, So there was a method in all this,
I was being led in a specific direction like a rat in 'a
maze, and I had no choice but to go along.
I walked down the new corridor, my finger nervously
working against Wilhelmina 's trigger. thought I heard
something me and I turned around in time to see
the sections of comdor closing in the rear. In front of
me new sections were opening up.









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Twelve
I proceeded this way for several hundred feet, al-
though there were never more than ten yards of hallway
open at any one time. As I approached the end of the ten
yards, the wall in front of me would pull back and the
section me would close.
Ihen it occurred to me to run a little experiment. I
stopped altogether and sat down with my back against
the left-hand lateral wall. The movements of the parti-
tion in front and behind ceased. Minutes went by, and
they stood silently. waiting. I had the feeling they would
wait forever if I didn 't move.
I stood up and started walking again, only this time I
varied my pace. I slowed down, then sped up, and with
each change of speed, the walls compensated. This led
me to believe they were probably being operated by
computer. which meant the machine must have some
device for sensing where I was, most likely in the
overhead lighting.
As I walked along, I considered shooting out a süing
108
107
NICK CARTER
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NICK CARTER
of the overheads to see what would happen. I weighed
this against the two clips of ammunition I'd brought,
trying to decide, when I was again caught me com-
pletely by surprise.
Instead of moving out and away, leaving me a
straight passage in which to move, the forward wall
stopped and the walls on either side fell back, present-
ing me with two directions to follow rather than one.
I stopped in the intersection and looked down each
hall. They both went for the same distance. In fact, they
were identical; there was nothing to indicate whether I
should go one way or the other.
"Which way?" I shouted. My voice echoed against
the smooth surface of the walls and died away. nere
was no answer.
This is absurd, I thought; but which way?
I turned to the right. The wall at the end of the
comdor began to recede in front of me and I could hear
the left-hand hall rolling shut behind me, sealing that
possibility forever.
I continued on for the better part of an hour, making
numerous turns. I didn't think I was being led in
circles, but I couldn't sure. Four times I was given
the option as to which direction to go, twice with
choices ahead or behind, twice with the decision of
turning left or going on straight ahead. Each time I took
the way I thought would lead me further into the interior
of the building.
Finally, the inevitable happened, the ploy I'd been
waiting for since I found out the walls were movable. I
turned a comer and came down a straight section of
hallway. expecting the wall in front of me to ebb away
as it had been doing all along, Only this time it didn 't. It
just stood there like the blunt end of a giant hammer.
THE LAST SAMURAI
The wall behind me continued to close in.
109
I'd given some thought to what I would do if this
happened. ne waltg didn't move all that fast. It had
occurred to me that it might be possible, if I were very
quick, to shinny up the space between them and make
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just stood there like the blunt end of a giant hammer.
THE LAST SAMURAI
The wall behind me continued to close in.
109
I'd given some thought to what I would do if this
happened. ne waltg didn't move all that fast. It had
occurred to me that it might be possible, if I were very
quick, to shinny up the space between them and make
an escape into the ceiling by knocking out the overhead.
There would have to be a crawl space up there of some
kind to house the wiring and mechanisms necessary for
a set-up like diis.
Of course, this was assuming I was healthy, which I
wasn't, and not fatigued, which I was fast becoming at
two-thirty in the morning after a night of very little
sleep.
The wall crept toward me, foot by fCK)t. I holstered
Wilhelmina and braced myself. Twenty feet away, then
fifteen. There wasn't going to be much time.
Five feet. I lifted my leg to catch the wall as it came.
It moved in big and blank, growing bigger. I up
at the ceiling, and it seemed a mile away. I asked myself
how in the world I ever hoped to scramble up this blank
mountain all that way using only the forward wall as a
support?
I felt weak suddenly, my body telling me I'd already
pushed it to the limit. nere wasn't enough left in me to
crawl that fast that far. I couldn 't do it.
I dropped my foot. The wall rolled in and pressed
against my body. Like some brute rapist, the cold steel
kissed my cheek. The overhead was out now, the wall
having moved beyond it, and the pinched space left to
me was dark.
I didn't want to give up. My mind kept racing,
looking for a possible escape. There had to some
way.
The wall pressed its case. I could feel the rivets
110
NICK CARTER
where the sheets of it were spliced together and even the
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me was dark.
I didn't want to give up. My mind kept racing,
looking for a possible escape. There had to some
way.
The wall pressed its case. I could feel the rivets
110
NICK CARTER
where the sheets of it were spliced together and even the
criss-cross of the support rods on which the metal sheets
were hung.
My feet splayed out duck-style and the first bolts of
pain shot up from my unnaturally twisted knees.
Soon my ankles, knees, hips, shoulders. all felt it.
The air rushed out of my lungs in a wheezing moan that
at first I couldn 't had come from me. lhe wall,
pressed flat against the side of my face. ground into my
cheekbones, my ears, and the back of my head.
A crazy fear ran through my mind. I was afraid my
body would be crushed, but not my skull. Then I
wouldn 't die, at least not right away, but the bones and
the splinters would skewer everything in me. I didn't
think I could stand that kind of pain,
I was about to go limp, realizing resistence only
made it hurt more and that I would never be able to
make myself disappear completely, when the wall to
my rear suddenly opened up and I fell backwards into
darkness.
I lay for a few seconds without trying to get up, then
pulled myself slowly to my feet. My joints ached but
nothing seemed to be broken. Stills I was shaking. For a
minute I thought that, after all these years, I'd finally
had it.
Everything still in total darkness, I grorrd my way
back to the wall and the place where I 'd fallen through.
It was gone. I searched for several yards in either
direction, but I couldn 't find any evidence of a door, or
even a seam.
I decided to trgin walking to my right. running one
hand along the wall, counting my paces. Thirty-two
steps later I still hadn't made contact with an adjoining
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there was a snap and a surging sound like an electric
motor being started.
There was also a loud hissing noise like a steam valve
being blown off time and again. I shaded my eyes and
squinted into the glare. What I saw was unbelievable.
Towering above me was a mechanial reproduction of a
medieval Chinese dragon. It was huge, over twelvefeet
high, and out from between the shoulder blades of its
stubby, dinosaur-like body shot eight long necks like
snakes, and at the end of each of these was a snake's
head, hissing and darting its tongue.
I recoiled half a step in amazement. Minamoto had
done a suErrb job of animation. Never had I seen
anything fabricated out of metal, cloth, and plastic look
so real. Saliva dripped from the snakes ' mouths, and its
outer covering glinted with blue and gold like the pris-
matic scales of a fish. Even the nostrils flared as though
they were actually sucking air.
I .was so astounded, I forgot to be careful. Out of
nowhere, one of the heads, half a foot from eye to eye,
and a foot and a half long, swooped down and snagged
my leg with the fangs that protruded five inches from its
upper jaw. It tore my trousers and opened a bloody
slash in my shin, and then it snapped back like light-
ning.
I pulled out Wilhelmina. For a few seconds I fol-
lowed the head trying to get a clear shot, then took a
bead on one Of its brothers. ne heads whipped back
and forth like striking pythons. never lingering in one
spot long enough to gun down. Finally, I held the gun
steady and waited fora head to move into line. Then I
squeezed off a shot.
I got one under the back part of the jaw, but except
for a slight jamng, the bullet had no effect whatever.
112
NICK CARTER
I fired again. This time it went into one of the eyes.
The eye popped like a picture tube. A pale wisp of
smoke came out of the empty socket and the jaw
dropped open, although the neck went on flailing the air
like the others.




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squeezed off a shot.
I got one under the back part of the jaw, but except
for a slight jamng, the bullet had no effect whatever.
112
NICK CARTER
I fired again. This time it went into one of the eyes.
The eye popped like a picture tube. A pale wisp of
smoke came out of the empty socket and the jaw
dropped open, although the neck went on flailing the air
like the others.
Knocking out one of the heads only seemed to anger
it. Another head sailed at me, hitting the wall behind me
with a sickening thud when I ducked just in time.
No sooner had I stood up again than another pair of
jaws smacked the floor in front of me. I and
tried to come down on top of it, but I was late.
When I recovered my balance, I trained Wilhemina on
it, thinking I'd blow it off its neck, but it had recoiled by
this time and I didn't want to waste a shot.
While I was concentrating on that one, another suuck
from behind. They were coming at me snake-fashion,
from all directions, lunging fangs first. trying to hook
them into me.
I side-stepped the threat to the rear, swung and
caught it between the eyes with the butt of the Luger.
Again, I had to marvel at Minamoto's programming.
The head sprung back as though it were actually hurt.
So far I'd teen lucky, but so far it had only been
toying with me. I was too close to it. But every time I
tried to move out of the way, another snake head cut me
off. I batted at them with Wilhelmina whenever one
came close, but I didn 't kid myself into thinking r was
doing any damage.
Then I saw an opportunity to make a run for it. Six of
the heads arched back simultaneously, testing the air
with their tongues, allowing themselves to coordinate
the attack so they didn't all run into one another. This
left two down low to keep me busy. One of these was
the head I'd shot out earlier.
My first instinct was to rush the weaker side, but that
THE LAST SAMURAI
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Then I saw an opportunity to make a run for it. Six of
the heads arched back simultaneously, testing the air
with their tongues, allowing themselves to coordinate
the attack so they didn't all run into one another. This
left two down low to keep me busy. One of these was
the head I'd shot out earlier.
My first instinct was to rush the weaker side, but that
THE LAST SAMURAI
113
would leave my back unprotected, and the weak head,
while it couldn •t bite me, could act as a bamer while the
second moved in for the kill. So I feinted in the direc-
tion of the fully functional head. two steps, as though I
were going to make a break.
It thought it had me. Out of the corner of my eye, I
saw it timing its attack to intercept me in motion.
It struck, and this time it wasn't fooling. It came
flying hard and fast. I sucked in my chest. The head
whizzed past close enough to brush the of my
coat, then hit the wall with a crack and broke offboth its
fangs. It recoiled a hell of a lot slower than it had
charged and I took off for the other side of the room.
The room's decor was every bit as strange as the
dragon. It was like a stage set. Piled waist high along
the floor were masses of raw cotton set out in blob-like
shapes. The floor, walls, and ceiling had been painted
in variegated hues to resemble a blue sky, azure at the
base and growing gradually paler to almost pure white
at the top. In the ceiling burned an electric imitation
sun, and along the walls and hung midway between
floor and ceiling on wires were additional masses of
cotton, supposedly to resemble clouds.
The idea I gathered was that the dragon and I were
supposed to fighting somewhere in midair high
above the earth. I hadn't the vaguest notion as to why
Minamoto would go to all this trouble just to create an
effect, but the cotton at floor level was the only cover
available. so I plunged in.
When I got to the middle, I crouched down and
pushed away the cotton that obscured my view of the
dragon. Then I framed him in my sights.
He moved toward me on his back legs, dragging his
ponderous tail t*hind him. Because of his enormity he
only had to go a few steps to have me cornered. I was





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pon 1m. eeause«h
only had to go a few steps to have me cornered. I was
114
NICK CARTER
going to have to stay on the run, constantly shifting
positions to keep ahead of him and avoid stabbed
to death by those knife-like fangs.
Before he got close, I fired. *Ihe bullet ricocheted
off one of the necks and struck a wall. I fired again and
hit a head dead center. It jerked upward, then fell back
into its original position, still operational. Apparently,
I 'd been lucky the first time around and found the one
chink in its armor, the eyes.
I took more careful aim and squeezed. Wilhelmina
kicked a little in my hand and I missed the eye by a few
inches.
He was closing in. In a few seconds I was going to
have to run for it. I pulled the trigger again and this
time, in one of the longer-necked heads, the eye went
black and glass tinkled to the floor. Ihe neck still
moved, but the head itself was out of commission.
I saw a glint in the light above me and ducked down
just as a pair of fangs shot past my head. Another
followed close behind.
I scrambled to my feet and started running along the
wall. Wmen I came to another white patch, I trampled
my way into the center of it, crouched and got myself
ready again.
Two heads down with six shots. Three bullets left in
the gun and nine more in the spare clip. I couldn 't afford
to waste any.
lhe dragon spun around, whipping its huge tail and
crashed it into the far wall. That was something else I
was going to have to keep an eye on. If he caught me
with that tail, I was a goner.
'Ihe heads sawed the air, hissing. ney were looking
for me. Finally, one of them spotted my hiding place
and they all trained on it.
THE LAST SAMURAI
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I drew a bead on another eye and fired. Missed. Too
far away and moving too fast.
I aimed again, holding the old girl steady at arm's
length and using my left hand for support. I fired and




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my way into the center of it, crouched and got myself
ready again.
Two heads down with six shots. Three bullets left in
the gun and nine more in the spare clip. I couldn 't afford
to waste any.
Ihe dragon spun around, whipping its huge tail and
crashed it into the far wall. That was something else I
was going to have to keep an eye on. If he caught me
with that tail, I was a goner.
•ne heads sawed the air, hissing. ney were looking
for me. Finally, one of them spotted my hiding place
and they all trained on it.
THE LAST SAMURAI
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I drew a bead on another eye and fired. Missed. Too
far away and moving too fast.
I aimed again, holding the old girl steady at arm's
length and using my left hand for support. I fired and
missed, then fired again in quick succession. ne sec-
ond bullet found its mark and another eye went black,
the head becoming nothing but dead weight.
Clearly I had to move again. I shot past his back leg
just ahead of a flying pair of fangs, then jumped to
avoid the backlashing of the tail. I went up and it went
under, but my rear foot hit, flipping me. I fell on my
side, rolled, and came up running.
When I was out of range of those needle teeth, I
stopped. The spare clip was in my inside pocket. I dug it
out and slammed it into the butt of the Luger. Then I
hunkered down and took aim.








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The dragon had already turned and was coming for
me. I fired six more times and took out two more heads.
When he flushed me from the cotton again and I circled
the perimeter of the room until I was behind him. fien I
got down and aim once again.
So far this little game was working to my advantage.
Except for one small problem: I was running out of
ammo. I had three heads left, one of which had smashed
the teeth out of itself earlier. But I had only three more
bullets, and my score to date, bullets vs. heads, wasn 't
the best.
As the dragon turned to move toward my new posi-
tion, I noticed something about it that had escaped me
before. Between its legs, running from its body to a
hole in the floor, was a thick black cable.
How could I have been so stupid? I wondered. Here
was the way to defeat this thing. Simply cut off its
power source.
Before the dragon could turn to face me, I started
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was the way to defeat this thing. Simply cut off its
power source.
Before the dragon could turn to face me, I started
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NICK CARTER
moving again, circling the room. The dragon was
forced to spin with me to keep me in front of him. He
was built in such a way that he had to dip his body in
order for the heads to strike at me , and the only way he
could do that was forward.
Unfortunately for him, he couldn't spin as fast as I
could circle. Eventually, I got around behind him and
had a clear shot at the cable. I crouched and fired. I
could have sworn I'd hit it, but nothing happened.
Clearly I was going to have to get closer.
I circled again until I had him facing the opposite
way, then charged his rear. He swung his lanced tail at
me, trying to swat me like a fly, but I was ready for it
and dodged out of the way. Then I quickly ran in close
to the hase of it before he could whip it toward me
again, and put my hand on its haunch to steady myself.
The dragon reared and clawed the air with his smaller
front feet. The hissing increased in ferocity as he kept
trying to tum around and crush me. I held the gun three
feet from the cable and fired.
lhe bullet made a white mark where it deflected off
the black plastic sheathing but failed to penetrate. I
fired again and a second white mark apErared like a
twin to the first. I had used up all my ammunition.
Hissing noises above me indicated what lay in store.
The heads were striking, but I was still just out of range.
I holstered the gun and ejected Hugo. Then I turned to
face them with the only weapon I had left.
A head sprung at me. I pulled back out of its path to
let it shoot by, grabbed it by the neck in a bear hug
before it could recoil, and jumped on for a ride.
lhe mechanism was stronger than I thought, It
shipped me through the air as though an extra hundred
and eighty pounds were nothing at all. At first it was all
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range of its efforts to throw me, I pulled myself aboard
like a bronco rider.
I grabbed the head by the snout, one hand around the
upper jaw between the fangs, reared back. and plunged
Hugo into the eye. The glass broke and the head
dropped, lowering the fangs. The change was so sud-
den, I had to hold on with both hands to keep from
falling off.
*'Ihe ride wasn't over though—not by a long shot.
The neck t:rgan swinging back and forth like a pendu-
lum, building speed. Ihen it heaved back and snapped
me across the room. I hit the wall with my back about
eight feet above the floor and fell,
For a minute I just lay there. Everything hurt. That
was one rodeo stunt I wouldnst doing again soon.
J could hear it moving toward me , its big, clawed feet
scraping the floor, but I couldn't move. When I finally
looked up, it was right over me, a big scaly mass of
stomach with tendrils that seemed to reach to the ceil-
ing.
Two fangs dived toward me, hit the wall just above
my head and glanced off, slicing part of my arm in the
process.
Ihe sight of blood was enough to bring me back to
my senses. I crawled out from between the wall and the
dragon, got my feet under me somehow and ran for
safety. didn 't stop until I was flat against the far wall. I
let it hold me up, panting, the air moving in and out of
my lungs like a wood rasp.
Ihis last little adventure had turned the corner for
me. I was exhaustd I'd put about everything I had into
this fight and still hadn't t*en able to beat this thing.
I tried to think of some strategy, but my mind
wouldn't function anymore. All I could do was stare.
The dragon made one final tum, located my position,
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NICK CARTER
and came stalking in my direction.
Most of the heads beat the air spastically, slack-
jawed, running into one another like a machine gone
berserk. Ihree of them, however, two with teeth. rode



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this fight and still hadn't t*en able to beat this thing.
I tried to think of some strategy, but my mind
wouldn't function anymore. All I could do was stare.
The dragon made one final tum, located my position,
120
NICK CARTER
and came stalking in my direction.
Most of the heads beat the air spastically, slack-
jawed, running into one another like a machine gone
berserk. Ihree of them, however, two with teeth. rode
on the beast's shoulders looking down at nr soberly.
Apparently, I'd created a short in the head I'd just
disabled with Hugo. Sparks flew from its mouth, and
instead of hissing, it popped.
I watched it come, wondering if I had the strength to
elude it again, fast coming to the conclusion I didn't,
when a panel opened in the wall only a few feet from me
and a small platform extended.
On the platform, ensconsed on a red velvet pad, was
an ornate sword, the kind once used by the ancient
samurai.
I looked over at it with a measure of wonder and
disgust. What was Minamoto up to, anyway? I asked
myself. How long was he going to toy with me? First
the maze, then the dragon, now this.
The dragon was pressing. The closer of the three
working heads had already coiled and was getting ready
to strike. I ran over, grabbed the sword, and moved
clear.
The dragon spun around, swishing its tail into the
little platform, splintering it and sending the red velvet
cushion flying.
1 unsheathed the sword. It was the real thing. Etched
on the tip of the blade was the horimono, the hallmark
of the craftsman who rnade it. I tried it a few times. It
hummed in the air. nese swords weren 't like the brittle
cutlasses and rapiers made in Europe. lhe Japanese
deve10f*d a process of pounding the metal out and
folding it back on itself thousands of times, strengthen-
ing the blade far beyond the tolerance ofa single-forged
THE LAST SAMURAI
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of the craftsman who rnade it. I tried it a few times. It
hummed in the air. nese swords weren 't like the brittle
cutlasses and rapiers made in Europe. lhe Japanese
deve10f*d a process of pounding the metal out and
folding it back on itself thousands of times, strengthen-
ing the blade far beyond the tolerance ofa single-forged
THE LAST SAMURAI
121
piece of steel. In the hands of a master a sword like this
could fell a tree.
The new weapon in my hands rejuvenated me. ne
dragon moved in, but I stood my ground, letting him ggt
dangerously close. I waited until he was towering over
me, the monstrous snake pit between his shoulders
coiling and uncoiling. Then I swung with all my might.
Ihe sword hit one of the necks of the nonfunctioning
heads inches below the line where the neck and head
joined, sunk an inch or so into whatever material cov-
ered the dragon 's frame, then bounced off as though the
blade were made of rubber.
I swung again hitting the shoulder from which the
necks sprouted, hoping to relieve this thing of all eight
heads in one blow. Same result. ne sword sprang off,
twisting me halfway in the other direction on the re-
bound.
A head struck at me from above. I fended it off with
my arm, but the force of it almost knocked me over. A
second attacked from the other side. They had me in a
crossfire.
I swung the sword furiously to clear them away.
When they retreated, I lunged at the dragon's body,
trying to drive the point through its chest. It wouldn't
penetrate. I uied again and couldn 't get the
past the slimy outer covering. Something was prevent-
ing it.
Then it dawned on me: The whole dragon must have
been covered with the same black plastic as the cable in
back. I didn 't know what that plastic was , but it was the
toughest material I'd ever tried to go through.
By this time the beads were on me again, sailing at
me from both directions. I made a swoop with the
swor/ that sounded like the wing stroke of a giant bird.




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NICK CARTER
They backed off and I got away again.
On the other side of the room, I was at my wit's end. I
had no idea why I had been given the sword since it did
me no good. I was about to fling it across the room,
when suddenly something clicked in my mind.
The handle of the sword was tickly coated with
rubber, something a samurai would obviously never
use. At first I'd thought it was for improving the grip.
But now I wondered if perhaps it weren't there to
insulate its user against electrical shock.
If this were true, did it mean Minamoto was deliber-
ately hinting at a way out of this mess?
I didn 't stop to analyze the implications of this. I took
Hugo in my right hand and the sword in my left and ran
around to the rear of the dragon.
Again, he tried to dispose of me with his tail. I waited
while he swung it back to get leverage, then rushed in
before he could whiplash it around and catch me.
This time I didn't bide my time in the protective
hollow of his backside. I jumped on his spine using
Hugo like a climber's piton, digging him into the outer
covering, pulling myself up, then plunging him in
again.
The heads spotted me coming up the back and the
three still functioning went wild trying to stop me. Ihey
new back and forth in a frenzy, hissing like a colony of
adders. But the robot was designed to attack facing
forward. Consequently, the line Of flight necessary to
get a good strike at me was a little awkward.
One head flew at me and fell half a foot short,
stabbing its own body near the shoulder blades with its
fangs. These caught in the covering material until the
head jerked them free and recoiled for another try.
I realized as long as I stayed plastered against the
back of it, I was fairly safe. But I hadn't come this far to
THE LAST SAMURAI
123
be cozy. Using Hugo, I inched up the neck of the head
that had thrown me earlier. It was still sputtering like a
volcano.




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stabbing its own body near the shoulder blades with its
fangs. These caught in the covering material until the
head jerked them free and recoiled for another try.
I realized as long as I stayed plastered against the
back of it, I was fairly safe. But I hadn't come this far to
THE LAST SAMURAI
123
be cozy. Using Hugo, I inched up the neck of the head
that had thrown me earlier. It was still sputtering like a
volcano.
I made it to within a fcx»t of the head itself, hanging
like a kid on a thin branch in a windstorm, when
another of the necks suddenly wrapped itself around the
base of the one I was om I could see what was coming.
They began to entwine like two mating snakes with me
in the middle.
Snake bodies would have been tolerable. At least
they would have had some give to them. But these
necks were made in steel sections, something like a
goose-necked lamp, and when they squeezed, they
squeezed hard.
The coil went first around the backs of my calves,
then my midsection, and finally and very quickly it
began to wrap around my head. I pushed it up with my
hands just in üme to prevent it from crushing my
windpipe.
Their tryst took but a few seconds, then they sepa-
rated, leaving me gasping. I hung on trying to get my
breath, but there wasn't time.
lid stuck the sword in my belt before starting to
climb, and with the two necks finally disengaged, I
stabbed Hugo into the soft area behind the jaw and
pulled myself up on a level with the head. nen I held
on tight, pulled the sword out of my pants, and sunk a
third of it into the mouth.
The rate of sputtering increased from an occasional
spark to a continuous blaze.
During this time the still-working heads attacked
without mercy. Fangs whizzed by my ears and neck.
My coat was in shreds and a warn rivulet ran down my
back. Fortunately, I was nested in a cluster of disfunc-
tional heads and difficult for these three still-enterpris-
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NICK CARTER




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stabbing its own body near the shoulder blades with its
fangs. These caught in the covering material until the
head jerked them free and recoiled for another try.
I realized as long as I stayed plastered against the
back of it, I was fairly safe. But I hadn't come this far to
THE LAST SAMURAI
123
be cozy. Using Hugo, I inched up the neck of the head
that had thrown me earlier. It was still sputtering like a
volcano.
I made it to within a fcx»t of the head itself, hanging
like a kid on a thin branch in a windstorm, when
another of the necks suddenly wrapped itself around the
base of the one I was om I could see what was coming.
They began to entwine like two mating snakes with me
in the middle.
Snake bodies would have been tolerable. At least
they would have had some give to them. But these
necks were made in steel sections, something like a
goose-necked lamp, and when they squeezed, they
squeezed hard.
The coil went first around the backs of my calves,
then my midsection, and finally and very quickly it
began to wrap around my head. I pushed it up with my
hands just in üme to prevent it from crushing my
windpipe.
Their tryst took but a few seconds, then they sepa-
rated, leaving me gasping. I hung on trying to get my
breath, but there wasn't time.
lid stuck the sword in my belt before starting to
climb, and with the two necks finally disengaged, I
stabbed Hugo into the soft area behind the jaw and
pulled myself up on a level with the head. nen I held
on tight, pulled the sword out of my pants, and sunk a
third of it into the mouth.
The rate of sputtering increased from an occasional
spark to a continuous blaze.
During this time the still-working heads attacked
without mercy. Fangs whizzed by my ears and neck.
My coat was in shreds and a warn rivulet ran down my
back. Fortunately, I was nested in a cluster of disfunc-
tional heads and difficult for these three still-enterpris-
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NICK CARTER




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third of it into the mouth.
The rate of sputtering increased from an occasional
spark to a continuous blaze.
During this time the still-working heads attacked
without mercy. Fangs whizzed by my ears and neck.
My coat was in shreds and a warn rivulet ran down my
back. Fortunately, I was nested in a cluster of disfunc-
tional heads and difficult for these three still-enterpris-
124
NICK CARTER
I
ing ones to get at. There was one. however, whose
angle was a little better than the others and who had
persistently done more damage. I turned my attention to
him.
I moved to one side, holding the samurai blade be-
tween me and my attacker. Two thirds of it were ex-
posed. nen I placed my head near the bare steel,
daring it to strike. It did, missing me, but neatly wmp-
ping its jaws around the sword.
No sooner had it made contact than sparks began to
fly. Beneath me the entire structure stiffened. I could
almost feel the electricity channeling down the wrong
wires, blowing out circuit boards, frying switches,
blasting fuses. The necks stopped moving. Ihe hissing
of the other two heads stopped and they froze.
"Ihe sun in the ceiling grew dim, then blinked out
altogether. In a few seconds it came back on. Minamoto
had had to switch to emergency power.










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Fourteen
I pulled Hugo out of the soft plastic scales and let
myself down. Now that it was still, the dragon didn 't
look so impsing. Just a big grotesque sculpture in
plastic and steel in a ridiculous posture, biting its own
head.
I took off my cashmere jacket. It had been ruined in
the final skirmish. A slice had been opened in the back
from shoulder to shoulder by one of the fangs. My back
was also cut, but that would heal.
I was standing there examining myself for any other
damage. when I heard a click like a casette tape being
shoved into a player. nen a voice started speaking in
academically clear English.
' 'In the time before there was time, before Amater-
atsu, Goddess of the Sun, had willed her grandson the
islands of Japan and before his grandson, Jimmu, be-
came the first mortal to ascend to the throne, Susano-o,
the Impetuous Male, son of Izanagi, and Izanami, was
traveling in the•province of Izumo.
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125
NICK CARTER
s snere dwelled a great dragon. Eight heads sprouted
from its many necks, and its eight tails filled eight



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islands of Japan and before his grandson, Jimmu, be-
came the first mortal to ascend to the throne, Susano-o,
the Impetuous Male, son of Izanagi, and Izanami, was
traveling in the•province of Izumo.
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125
NICK CARTER
s snere dwelled a great dragon. Eight heads sprouted
from its many necks, and its eight tails filled eight
mountain valleys. The dragon feasted on mortal flesh
and ravaged the maidens of Izumo.
*Ihe oppressed rH»ple of the province, hearing that
a great warrior was in their midst, beseeched Susano-o
to slay the dragon. Susano-o thought it a challange
befitting a god.
"He chose the most beautiful maiden in Izumo as
bait, and with his father's sword and a great many casks
ofsake, lay in wait for the beast with the eight heads and
whose tails filled eight mountain valleys.
' 'Ihe of the beast was very vast and Susano-o
heard it coming days in advance. Ihe earth
and the sky became turgid with black clouds. Susano-o
poured the wine into a trough and tied the maiden to a
stake.
fierce dragon soon came, sniffed the sake.
Overwhelmed with the novelty of the liquor, he drank
his fill, and fell into a deep sleep.
"Susano-o stole from his hiding place and cut the
maiden loose, telling her to go back to her village.
Then, his father's sword in hand, he struck off each o
the monster's heads.
s 'Not satisfied that by beheading it he'd killed it, he
decimated the body one section at a time. So large was
the dragon, this task mk a hundred days.
s 'For twenty days he slew the necks and cut them to
pieces. Then he proceeded down the back, upon which
forests grew. •nis work occupied him another thirty
days. Finally, he reached the base of the huge tail, s
vast that clouds had gathered on it. He set to w
hewing it apart, when his sword, venerable and migh
though it was, succumbed to the enormity of his effort
and the blade turned.



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' 'But that day Fortune smiled down on Susano-o and
he found another sword embedded in the dragon 's tail.
Quickly he finished his work, and when he was done,
gave his newly-found sword to his sister, Amateratsu,
the Goddess of the Sun. Because of where he'd found
it, he called it 'Cloud-Cluster Sword.' "
This recitation took two, maybe three, minutes and
made about as much sense as anything had since I'd
begun this assignment. As soon as the voice stopped
and the clicked off, a panel opened in the wall to
my left. I waited for more than thirty seconds, to see
what would come through. When nothing did, I
dropped what was left of my jacket, and walked over.
Through the door wasa room modeled in the same
stage-set fashion as the locale of my dragon battle.
Instead of the wild blue yonder, the theme now was the
mountains of Japan.
Murals of mountain scenery painted on the walls
gave the illusion of outdoors, an effect heightened
by indirect florescent lighting from the floor. ne
decorations consisted of phony rcrks and trees—
papier-måché and cloth from the look of them—painted
to resemble the real thing. Through all this ran a moun-
tain path and bisecting the path was a real mountain
stream which flowed out of one wall across the room
and disappeared. Over the stream was a sturdy-looking
wooden footbridge which took up a good portion of the
room.
I had learned by this time not to wonder overly much
at anything I encountered here. I entered and examined
the opening where the stream flowed out of the walL I
knew there was more to this house than I had seen, and I
was anxious to find some way out of this series of
rooms. Here I was subject to whatever mechanical
torture Minamoto's whimsy could invent.
128
NICK CARTER
Unfortunately. the slit where the water entered was
too narrow to allow me to escape. I checked to see if it
could be widened, but it was concrete. Then I tasted the
water. Salty. Apparently, it was being pumped in from
the Mediterranean.




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knew there was more to this house than I had seen, and I
was anxious to find some way out of this series of
rooms. Here I was subject to whatever mechanical
torture Minamoto's whimsy could invent.
128
NICK CARTER
Unfortunately. the slit where the water entered was
too narrow to allow me to escape. I checked to see if it
could be widened, but it was concrete. Then I tasted the
water. Salty. Apparently, it was being pumped in from
the Mediterranean.
*'nat water's not for drinking, Mr. Carter, said a
quiet voice just behind me. A heavy-set Japanese man
dressed in the cowl and robe of a Buddhist monk was
standing in the artificial foliage only a few feet from
me. "I didn't mean to frighten you. I only wanted to say
that if you need something to revive your spirit, tea will
be served momentarily. "
"I want to see Yoshitsune Minamoto and I want to
see him now," I said, standing up.
"And so you shall. But you can't be presented to the
Master dressed such as this. Here, put this on. Draped
over his arm was a dark maroon robe. He held it out for
me to take, but I backed away.
"You must trust me. You are a brave wamor. You
defeated a machine it took the Master many years to
build. We thought it was invincible, but you proved us
wrong. "
"You were watching?"
' 'We all watched. You were magnificent. Quite
magnificent. You are a warrior of the first rank, and you
will be treated her with the respect you deserve, "
• lhen if it's all the same to you, I prefer to keep the
clothes I have on. No matter how torn they are. "
"As you wish. " He hung the robe ona tree branch as
though to say if it were nothing to me, it was a rag to
him as well. Ihen he turned to me with a polite smile.
"We may go now. fie Master is waiting. '
He stepped aside to allow me to pass him on the path
but I motioned for him to go ahead. ' 'You first," I said.
He bowed and walked on in front of me. I followed.
THE LAST SAMURAI
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We were halfway across the bridge when I stopped to





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"As you wish. " He hung the robe ona tree branch as
though to say if it were nothing to me, it was a rag to
him as well. Ihen he turned to me with a polite smile.
"We may go now. fie Master is waiting. '
He stepped aside to allow me to pass him on the path
but I motioned for him to go ahead. ' 'You first," I said.
He bowed and walked on in front of me. I followed.
THE LAST SAMURAI
129
We were halfway across the bridge when I stopped to
ask a question. "Whatis all this?" I said, sweeping my
arm to include the room as a whole. "And that other
place, too. What are these interiors supposed to repre-
sent with their cotton clouds and phony flowers and
trees
As I looked around, I noticed the door I'd come in
had been shut. "What the hell's going on here?" I
demanded. "Is this another trap0"
The monk didn't reply. His eyes narrowed. He
stepped back a pace and threw open his robe. Under-
neath he wore a full outfitting of samurai armor: breast
plate, skirt, and leggings, and on his hip was a samurai
sword.
'Aaaayiii! ' ' he yelled, drawing the sword and taking
a swing at me. I dodged out of the way and he split a
balustrade in the bridge railing. Then he reared back to
swing at me again.
I didn 't have a weapon, realizing Hugo was no match
for the sword and not being sure I wanted to give his
presence away just yet.
The monk let fly with the sword again and stuck it in
one of the wooden crossbeams. While he was jerking it
back and fonh trying to get it free, I put some distance
between us.
As I ran off the footbridge, I saw a long spear-like
knife leaning against one of the supports. I was sure it
hadn't been there a minute ago.
I picked up the spear and swung it in the air a couple
of times to get the feel of it. Known as a naginata, or
pole sword, it consisted of five feet of thick staff with
two feet of vicious blade stuck in the end. I 'd seen them
in museums on visits to Japan, but never actually held
one.
I didn 't get much chance to practice. He was on me in






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I didn 't get much chance to practice. He was on me in
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NICK CARTER
I
1
a few seconds, lunging and swinging the sword over-
head in an effort to slice me in half.
I stopped the blow with the business end of the
naginata. Ihe two blades clanged together and the
vibration stung my hands. nen I spun the weapon
around and caught him on the side of the head with the
staff.
It was a pretty neat move. I thought I'd clouted him
good. I expected it to at least stagger him, but he never
flinched. He came right back with two more sweeps of
his sword. I caught one on the blade, but the second cut
a big chip of wood out of the staff, and I realized I was
going to have to be careful or I was going to end up with
a short knife and a long useless pole.
As it was, I had something of an advantage. The
naginata was about seven feet long overall, which if I
could extend to its full length would put me out of range
of the monk's sword.
But to use this advantage, I had to get inside his
defenses. As long as he was on the attack and kept me
fielding blows, the awkwardness of the oversized
weapon worked in his favor.
He lunged at me with another overhand stroke. I
caught it on the blade, but before I could turn and swing
at him, he swung again, this time laterally, forcing me
to move the naginata awkwardly to block it.
By this time we'd moved down the path away from
the bridge. I let him have another blow, then I moved
under and around behind him. niere wasn't time to
strike him from here before he'd turned to face me
again. He was too fast and too good with his sword. But
I was leading him back toward the bridge and that, I had
calculated, was in my favor.
The bridge was arched and the man who stood on it
was on a level a or two higher than his opponent.
THE LAST SAMURAI
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Not much of a consideration when men fight with guns,
but in swordplay there 's a world of difference between
striking up at or down to your adversary.






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again. He was too fast and too good with his sword. But
I was leading him back toward the bridge and that, I had
calculated, was in my favor.
The bridge was arched and the man who stood on it
was on a level a or two higher than his opponent.
THE LAST SAMURAI
131
Not much of a consideration when men fight with guns,
but in swordplay there 's a world of difference between
striking up at or down to your adversary.
I felt the bridge planking under my feet. He swung
and missed me. This infuriated him and he swung again
with all his might. This time I stepped back and the
blade stuck in the bridge. As he wrestled with it, ü•ying
to get it out, I laid the knife of the naginata on his
shoulder, resting the cutting edge against his neck.
"Don't move," I told him, "or I'll flick your head
off like a cigarette ash. "
His eyes narrowed again and I pushed the blade a
little closer to home.
"Which way is Minamot00"
He nodded in the direction of the other side of the
stream. I reached down and pulled the sword out, then
flung it over the railing. It landed with a splash near
where the stream flowed out of the wall. I spun him
around and held the cutting edge at the nape of his neck.
"March. "
We moved to the middle of the bridge. lhen sud-
denly he leaped away from me and turned around.
"l am Benkei!t' he shouted. "I am the monk of
Enryaku-ji. Born a man withhair and teeth , I could lift a
horse onto either shoulder and still slay a hundred men.
It was I who stole the great bell of Mii-dera and carried
it home on my back. And it was I who took the fore at
the battle of Uji and who split in mid-air the thousand
arrows of the Taira with my sword. Now in my old age I
have fallen to a lesser man. "
When he finished, he jumped over the railing into the
stream.
I assumed he was going to retrieve his sword. I
rushed to the railing with the naginata drawn back
prepared to send it through the back plate of his armor
132
NICK CARTER




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the battle of Uji and who split in mid-air the thousand
arrows of the Taira with my sword. Now in my old age I
have fallen to a lesser man. "
When he finished, he jumped over the railing into the
stream.
I assumed he was going to retrieve his sword. I
rushed to the railing with the naginata drawn back
prepared to send it through the back plate of his armor
132
NICK CARTER
I
on the fly if need but the sight that greeted my eyes
from the stream below stopped me cold. Face down
between the rocks. being over by the swift
running water, his body bubbled and spit like a
drowned radio.
I humed to the of the bridge, then down the bank
to the edge of the stream. His head was still rx»pping and
spitting blue sparks. I rolled him over with the staff of
the naginata. He 'd fallen face-first on a rcxkt smashing
out all the features. But behind them wasn't blood and
sinew, it was a tangle of wires, diodes and micro-
prcressors.
' 'A robot!" I exclaimed.
"Not exactly, Mr. Carter," said a quiet voice from
the bridge. Yoshitsune Minamoto looked down at me
from above, his elbows resting casually on the railing.
' 'Robot' is an out-moded term. Even 'automaton'
hardly catches the elegance, the scientific sophistica-
tion of my creations. "
' 'l don't believe it, ' ' I said, looking down at the inert
form of the monk outstretched in the water. Only min-
utes before he had been a living, breathing man.
"Amazingly lifelike, isn't it? But you haven 't come
all this way and gone through this travail to gawk at
useless machinery. Come. "
He stretched out his arm and beckoned me.
"Come," he said. "You have nothing to fear. Old
Benkei was right in one respect. If there's anything that
gains admiration here, it's prowess in battle. Come.
You 've certainly proven yourself. "
J walked around to the foot of the bridge. He met me
and took my arm.
"Where are you taking me?" I asked.
'*Somewhere you can rest for a few minutes. Where
we can talk. "




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mg me.
as
'*Somewhere you can rest for a few minutes. Where
we can talk."
THE LAST SAMURAI
"Talk about what?"
133
"What all this has been about," he said, making an
expansive gesture with his hand. "Isn't that what you
want to know?"
"You •re a maniac," I said quietly. It was meant as a
simple statement of fact.
"People have said that. It doesn't mean I'm illogi-
cal. " He smiled, a grotesque expression that wrinkled
skin all the way to the top of his bald pate, except for the
smootl discolored areas around his temples. "Come
with me," he said.









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Fifteen
He led me across the bridge to the other side of the
room, then down the path to a panel in the wall that slid
as we approached. Through the panel was a room
even more massive than the one we'd just left and
decorated in the same son of way. Only instead of a
stream there was a reflecting pool. Around the pool and
throughout the room were an abundance of green
plants, real ones, ananged in a lush garden. And above
the pool, nestled in the shrubbery, was a wooden cubi-
cle structure that I recognized immediately—a
Japanese tea house.
s '*Ihis is my retreat," he said with a hint of pride. ' 'A
man needs a place to meditate, no?"
"Some retreat," said.
Just inside the room set against the wall were four
locker doors. Minamoto pulled the first of these open
and drew out a maroon robe identical to the one the
monk had been carrying.
' 'My robot, as you called it, offered this to you and
you refused to wear it. Won't you accept it now from
135




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'*My robot, as you called it, offered this to you and
you refused to wear it. Won't you accept it now from
i 36
135
NICK CARTER
me? You don't want to continue wearing those rags. ' '
"I 'II keep the rags, thanks. And I want you to know I
don't appreciate your gracious host routine.
He replaced the robe in the locker and closed the
door. "It is not a routine, as you say. I assure you, it is
quite sincere. " He pulled open the next locker and took
out a black kimono.
'Then you'll have to excuse me, but I don 't feel like
being polite. When I come visiting, I don 't enjoy being
pitted against mechanical puppets for the entertainment
of the host. "
He took off the jacket of his suit and hung it in the
locker. lhen he slipped on the kimono over his shirt and
tie. "I can understand how you must feel. As a guest
you have been treated disgracefully thus far. Please
accept my apologies and allow me to assure you there
are good reasons for the ordeals you 've had to endure.
He studied his image in a small mirror set on the
inside of the locker dcxjr and adjusted the knot of his tie.
Then he closed the locker.
would like to make this up to you in some small
way by offering acupoftea and explaining.. .
He reached oat to take hold of my arm, but I yanked it
away.
' 'You're not sorry enough, " I said. ' 'It isn't just me.
You compromised the security of an agency of the
government of the United States and you exposed the
entire population of the world to one of the most
dangerous microbes in the history of germ warfare. "
He looked up at me rather amused. "What will you
do? Arrest me? You forget where you are, Mr. Carter.
The environs here are controlled by me. I am the law,
the only law, within these walls. '
"I've seen your law and how you enforce it. I'm not
impressed.
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THE LAST SAMURAI
His amused look faded. '*Very well, Mr. Carter," he




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cro s In e 'story o germ warfare."
He looked up at me rather amused. "What will you
do? Arrest me? You forget where you are, Mr. Carter.
The environs here are controlled by me. I am the law,
the only law, within these walls. '
"I've seen your law and how you enforce it. I'm not
impressed.
THE LAST SAMURAI
137
His amused look faded. '*Very well, Mr. Carter," he
sighed, "do as you wish. Let me just say that anger
becomes no man. Please don't tarnish my estimation of
your prowess as a man of battle with a display of lack of
self-control. I've brought you here at great trouble and
expense to make a gesture to you of my esteem. I am
going to retire to the tea house for a cup of tea. I would
very much like to have you join me. Or you may remain
here if you wish. When I return, we can make arrange-
ments for returning you to your car and a safe trip back
to Monte Carlo. " He bowed, then stepped around me
and walked off down the path in the direction of the tea
house.
As soon as he disappeared into the trees, I went back
to the wall panel. It was fastened tight with some kind
of spring mechanism. I wedged the knife end of the
naginata into the crack and pn«hed. Just as I was
making headway, the tip of the blade snapped off under
the pressure. I threw down the weapon in disgust and
began feeling the door frame for a photo-electric trig-
ger. It was then I noticed the unobtrusive black camera
box hinged high in the ceiling and rotating with every
move I made. The watchful eye of the computer, I
thought. No wonder it wouldn't
It looked as though I was a prisoner here until
Minamoto decided to let me out. I walked back to
where Minamoto had changed his clothes. To one side
was an arch fashioned with rough wc»den beams and
roofed with tree limbs and vines interwoven into a
thatch. Beneath it was a small stone bench. I sat down
for a minute to rest. It felt as though I'd been fighting
this house forever.
Minamoto was right about one thing. I was burning
with questions about him and this place and running off
at the mouth wasn 't going to get them answered. Chief




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WI ques ons
at the mouth wasn 't going to get them answered. Chief
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NICK CARTER
among those questions were the particulars of how that
monk Benkei was constructed. I had never seen the like
of iti I had spent over fifteen minutes with it and never
once suspected it wasn •t real. An astounding achieve-
ment of bionic science. I had to have a better look at it
and I was sure there were people in Washington who 'd
like to have a look at it, too. When I left this place. I was
going to have to arrange to bring the monk's body with
me.
Things were quiet down in the tea house, I thought,
looking down in that direction. ' 'A gesture of my es-
teem." I wondered what he'd meant by that. He
thought I was something special because I'd learned to
take care of myself.
I sighed and stood up. I figured enough time had
elapsed to register my indignation. lhere was no shame
now in going down and finding out what this was all
about.
I considered fetching the robe Minamoto had offered
me earlier, but then I thought this would too much of
a capitulation and I went as I was, Wilhelmina strapped
in her holster around my chest, my shirt in tatters.
The path to the tea house is traditionally a series of
stepping stones, some of which have certain rituals
attached to them. One of these is the Water Basin, a
stone urn set on a pedestal where the guest washes off
the grime of the everyday world in preparation for the
rarified atmosphere of the tea house. I dispensed with
this. I had every intention of keeping the everyday
world firmly in mind.
I went quickly up the wooden steps to the small
opening in the wall known as the Wriggling-in-Place. I
was supposed to take off my but I didn't. I
wanted to show Minamoto that although I was comings
I was coming on my own terms.
THE LAST SAMURAI
139
I went in the only way I could, on all fours. In
Japanese tradition one is humbled from the outset.
Minamoto was busy preparing the tea. A small fire
crackled beneath an earthenware pot and on the mat in





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opening in the wall known as the Wriggling-in-Place. I
was supposed to take off my but I didn't. I
wanted to show Minamoto that although I was comings
I was coming on my own terms.
THE LAST SAMURAI
139
I went in the only way I could, on all fours. In
Japanese tradition one is humbled from the outset.
Minamoto was busy preparing the tea. A small fire
crackled beneath an earthenware pot and on the mat in
front of him were a number of utensils and two
looking cups.
When he saw me. he carefully laid the implement in
his hand to rest, stocxl and made a deep bow. "Wel-
come," he said. "My humble tea house radiates with
your presence. "
I bowed in return, and when I did, I was sure he saw
my shoes. If he was insulted, however, I couldn't tell it
from his face.
I sat across the mat from him on my knees in a
posture identical to his, and folded my hands in my lap.
This seemed to please him, and when I was settled, he
set about making the tea.
He removed the lid from the boiling pot and placed it
on a small block of wood seemingly designed for just
this purpose. Then he ladled a small amount of hot
water into a bowl and used it to wash a wire tool. He
then withdrew the tool and wiped it with a small napkin
he kept folded neatly in his sash. When the tool was
cleaned and dried, he carefully poured the dirty water
into a third bowl. Every movement he made seemed to
be part of a rehearsed ritual. All his concentration was
required for the simplest operation.
He went on in this slow, precise way for ten minutes
or more, ladling water, stimng in tea, each time wiping
everything with his napkin, until at last he bowed and
presented me with a cup contaimng a few ounces of
thick, bright green tea.
I bowed and accepted it. Then I took a sip. It was
terrible. Much too strong. I bowed again and put the
cup on the mat.
140
NICK CARTER
I was about to murmur my thanks, when he indicated




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He went on in this slow, precise way for ten minutes
or more, ladling water, stimng in tea, each time wiping
everything with his napkin, until at last he bowed and
presented me with a cup contaimng a few ounces of
thick, bright green tea.
I bowed and accepted it. Then I took a sip. It was
terrible. Much too strong. I bowed again and put the
cup on the mat.
140
NICK CARTER
I was about to murmur my thanks, when he indicated
with a movement of his head that I mustn't talk. Then
he picked up the cupl had used, took a sip. wiped the lip
of it with one quick movement of his napkin, and
returned the cup to the mat. Then he sat back on his
heels with a pleased expression on his face.
And it was finished. Not much of a ceremony, I
thought. And yet, something told me a lot hinged on
these last few minutes. At least for Minamoto. Nothing
was visible on his face, but his eyes and manner seemed
to indicate deep emotions attatched to this simple little
rite we'd just performed.
After a few seconds, he began the cleaning up. This
step was every bit as complex and prescribed as the
initial prepantion. Every implement had to be carefully
washed, dried, and laid out. and when that was done,
each was separately carried behind a screen, until fi-
nally only the big water bowl remained. He this
out carrying it with both hands. Then he returned and
knelt where he had been before and made me a low
bow.
J bowed in response and this is the way we remained
for the next several minutes, neither of us I
listened to the sounds of the house around me. Each
creak and thump was interesting. Outside, I thought, it
must be close to dawn.
"Do you feel calmer now?" he asked at last. S'More
willing to talk?"
"Yes, I feel better. But that doesn't mean I'm still
not angry."
" 'Anger held tightly in one 's stomach and released in
measured amounts can be a good thing. '
I
'Is that what you brought me all this way and put me
through this misery to tell me?"




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ug
rs nusery to te
THE LAST SAMURAI
141
' enlen if you don't mind, I think you owe me an
explanation . .
He held up a hand to stop me. "l will answer all your
questions in good time, but please, let me tell the story
in my own way."
"All right," I said. "Begin."
"We have a great deal in common, Mr. Carter," he
began. "We are tX)th wamors ina world that shuns war
and persecutes those who practice it. And yet we both
know the exhilaration of artned conflict and the mar-
velous finality of its resolutions. "
s 'In what way are you a warrior?" I asked.
am samurai, the last of a great house of fighting
men. I am named for one of the great of Japanese
history. Although I'm afraid my illustrious lineage
doesn't mean much in the world today. Modem-day
Japan is a long way from the Japan of my forefathers.
We are a conquered people. Mr. Carter. When a nation
is conquered. its past becomes suspect. Its E*ople lose
faith in their traditions. Believe me, Mr. Carter, it is not
easy to watch a culture as grand as the one that
flourished on our small islands for so many centuries
die. "
"I wasn't aware the culture of Japan was dying. "
"It is. Westernisms creep in. The people grow soft.
They forget the lessoms of honor and devotion to duty
their samurai forefathers taught them. When I was a
younger man, I thought it was to wake the
people out of their torpor. I thought that pointing out the
signposts of danger would be enough to turn them
around. But I was wrong. All it earned me was abuse
and ridicule.
' 'My realization of the hopelessness of trying to save
Japanese culture from extinction brought about one of
the most difficult periods of my life. I was working for
142
MCK CARTER
Niji Electronics. I quit my job and went to live alone in
the mountains. 'lhere I trained myself in the arts of
self-defense, archery, swordsmanship. I a




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signposts o
nger wou
around. But I was wrong. All it earned me was abuse
and ridicule.
' 'My realization of the hopelessness of trying to save
Japanese culture from extinction brought about one of
the most difficult periods of my life. I was working for
142
MCK CARTER
Niji Electronics. I quit my job and went to live alone in
the mountains. 'lhere I trained myself in the arts of
self-defense, archery, swordsmanship. I a
samurai in fact, not just in name. In time they began to
write newspaper articles about the crazy wamor living
in the mountains and young men came to join me. A
few at first, but gradually more and more. After a
while, we became something of a political force in the
government. Once again my hopes began to soar.
"But then legislation was passed prohibiting the
forming of private armies and we were forced to dis-
band. I tell you quite candidly, I was on the brink of
despair. "
' 'I don 't understand what all this has to do with me, ' '
I said.
"Allow me to finish. The gcxjs have taken mercy on
me. Three months ago I was told I have cancer. It has
entered the lymphatic system. 1 won't live out the
year.
' 'Gigi didn't tell me. . . "
' Gigi doesn't know. She thinks I'm crazy. yet she
loves me. She'll find out everything soon enough. "
"I'm sorry that you're ill," I said, "But Idon 't know
what I can do
' 'I have one last wish, a wish that you and you alone
can fulfill. Will you come with me? There's something
I'd like to show you. "
He stood up. I stood as well, glad of getting the
circulation back into my legs. Then he led me out the
nanow entrance hole and down the garden path toward
the reflecting pool.
"About ten years ago, I started monitoring the flow
Of classified information among the great Western gov-
ernments , he began again as we walked along. ' 'Mind
you, my interest wasn't malicious. It's just that elec-
THE LAST SAMURAI
143





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THE LAST SAMURAI
143
tronics and numbers have always come easily for me
and deciphering the codes was such child 's play. And I
noticed your code designation, N3, kept cropping up
time and again. I must confess, I became fascinated. I
followed all your exploits. So when I began this last
project of mine, you were naturally the man I thought of
first. "
We came to a bend in the path where the trees and
bushes had overgrown their boundaries. We pushed the
branches out of the way and I could see a small clearing
up ahead.
S 'First, " he went on, "l deternined I needed a great
deal of money, so I invented a system of winning at
blackjack that is not only foolproof, it is undetectable.
So came here where I could win large sums and not
have to pay taxes, bought this house and remodeled it.
Then I set up a series of tests for you. "
"Yes. You are undeniably the greatest warrior in the
Western world, but it remained to he seen if you were
wonhy of a samurai. "
"Is that what all this has been Testing me?"
"Yes. Gigi contacted you first in Then it
was my turn in Ann Arbor, and then here. Each test was
designed to measure your mental and physical abilities
under stress. I'm happy to say you passed admirably. "
"Terrific." I still didn't know what all this was
leading to. lhe clearing was just ahead of us. an empty
space in the shrubbery about a hundred feet across,
paved with fine white gravel.
"lhe only thing that remained was luring you out
here. Ihat •s why I set up the ploy with the microproces-
sor as an inducement. I knew you really didn 't need it.
Once the codes were discovered broken, they would
have to be changed in any event, but I thought as a
NICK CARTER
challange it would appeal to your pride as a warrior, and
I was right. "
pulled away the leaves that hung in the entrance to
the clearing and for the first time saw two stone benches
set side by side at the far end. Against each leaned a suit
of the hard leather annor similar in type to the one the




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sor as an inducement. I knew you really didn 't need it.
Once the codes were discovered broken, they would
have to be changed in any event, but I thought as a
NICK CARTER
challange it would appeal to your pride as a warrior, and
I was right. "
pulled away the leaves that hung in the entrance to
the clearing and for the first time saw two stone benches
set side by side at the far end. Against each leaned a suit
of the hard leather annor similar in type to the one the
monk had been wearing. 'lhere was also a samurai
sword.










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Sixteen
"Is this what you've been building up to all this
time?" I asked, "a contest between you and me?"
g 'Yes," he said frankly. He moved past me onto the
gravel.
"But that's absurd! Wait a minute," I said, taking
his arm. He turned to look at me, his expression blank
as stone. "You •re laboring under a misconception. I 'm
not a wan•ior, not in the sense you think. I have a job to
do, a dangerous job that requires me to learn how to
take care of myself in some pretty tough situations. But
that doesn't mean I enjoy killing. I don't do it for its
own sake. . . "
He pulled away and continued walking toward the
two stone benches.
can sympathize with your being sick, ' ' I said after
him, "but I •m no executioner. If you want to commit
suicide, you'll have to find somebody else to do the
dirty work. Minamoto, are you listening to me? I'm
telling you, I refuse to participate!"
146
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NICK CARTER
He stopped walking and turned to me. 'SDon't you
think I've anticipated that possibility? ' ' he said quietly.
"What makes you think I'd give you any choice?"
'*What do you mean?"
"Surely you 've noticed the mechanical functions of
this house are controlled by a central computer. There
are also dynamite charges in the footings of the founda-
tion. Given the proper signal, the computer will set off
the dynamite and the entire structure will topple into the
sea. You have no alternative but to kill me and make
sure that signal is never given.
He walked to the left-hand bench, sat down, and
began strapping on one of the leather shin protectors. I
came up and stood over him.
' 'What kind of signal?' '
' 'A word. A code word. I've developed a predilec-
tion for codes. You must understand, I'm going to die
one way or the other, "
I sat down on the other bench and shook my head in
disbelief. "Why don't you commit hara-kiri the way
your forefathers did? Why drag me into it?"
' ney had their battles , their chances for glory. This
is mine."
'Tis is what you planned all along, isn't it? Find
someone suitable and lure him out fora little duel to the
death here in the garden. I could have been anybody,
anybody at all. "
"As long as you had the proper qualifications, " he
said, tying the last strap on the shin guard.
"I'm not going to let you use me like this," I said
firmly. "You give the computer any signal you want,
blow the house sky high, but I 'm not going to be forced
into fighting a battle, that is completely mad, And also,
Minamoto, suppose I lose?"
He looked up and smiled broadly. It was the first
THE LAST SAMURAI
147
genuine smile I'd seen on his face since I'd met him.
we 'II meet in heaven, ' • he said. He had stnpped
on the one legging, gotten out the second, and was
fitting it around his shin. "Is this how you want to




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blow the house sky high, but I 'm not going to be forced
into fighting a battle, that is completely mad, And also,
Minamoto, suppose I lose?"
He looked up and smiled broadly. It was the first
THE LAST SAMURAI
147
genuine smile I'd seen on his face since I'd met him.
we 'II meet in heaven, ' • he said. He had stnpped
on the one legging, gotten out the second, and was
fitting it around his shin. "Is this how you want to
die?" he asked. "In a fit of obstinacy? You have a
chance at survival . .
"What does it matter how I die? Once I'm dead,
that's it."
S *Maybe that's the difference between our two cul-
tures. You don't care how you die, so it doesn't matter
how you live."
I let out a sigh. There was no use in arguing with him.
"All right," I said. "But can't we dispense with the
armor? If we must fight, why prclong it?"
"Very well," he said, putting the one legging aside
and unstrapping the other, "no armor." He picked up
his sword and walked to the center of the arena.
I went over to where he was standing, carrying the
other sword in my hand. "I don't know if I have the
stomach for this," I said when I reached him.
He smiled. then drew back and swung at me with all
his might. I caught his sword on mine and fended it off
with a clang. ' 'Now that it's you or me, it won't be your
stomach telling you what to do," he said.
He sprang back on his muscular legs and rushed me,
swinging like a woodsman. I backed up, blocking his
charge while pulling away from him. After fifteen or
twenty slashes, his momentum ran out and it was my
turn. I charged him, hacking and chopping for all I was
worth, backing him across the gravel.
A samurai sword is like that. It isn 't meant for grace-
fully thrusting and running your victim through. It's
designed to hash a man to hamburger, and that 's pretty
much what we must have looked like, a couple of
butchers going at it.
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NICK CARTER
We charged and retreated, charg«i and retreated like
this f



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turn. I charged him, hacking and chopping for all I was
worth, backing him across the gravel.
A samurai sword is like that. It isn 't meant for grace-
fully thrusting and running your victim through. It's
designed to hash a man to hamburger, and that's pretty
much what we must have looked like, a couple of
butchers going at it.
148
NICK CARTER
We charged and retreated, chargd and retreated like
this for thirty minutes without letting up. I was gushing
sweat. It ran down my back, my arms, and into my
eyes. He refused to lay back and let me kill him. He
wanted to win.
Finally, at the end of one of my short flourishes,
when I'd forced him back as far as I could, I pulled back
for a second, panting. My hands were sweaty and the
sword handle was slipping badly. And yet I had no
more than rubbed my palms on the thighs of my pants
and repositioned my fingers when he was on me again
with a blow from overhead. Then came another and
another. The man's stamina was unbelievable, I
thought. How long could he keep charging me like this?
Minamoto smiled at my disbelief. It was the kind of
smile you wanted to slice in half. I remembered the
basement in Ann Arbor and how he'd kicked me in the
ribs again and again. I knew now there 'd been no reason
for it. He was just being malicious.
He backed me across the arena, swinging from the
right, from the left, overhead, left, left, overhead,
overhead, overhead. I tried holding my sword stiffly in
front of me and letting him hit at it while I looked for
something to repeat itself in his stroke, sornething I
could lay in wait for and exploit. But there wasn't
anything, or my concentration wasn't acute enough to
find it.
On top of everything else, I was running out ofroom.
He had backed me against the wall of greenery that
separated the arena from the reflecting pool below the
tea house. He swung with all his strength, hoping even
if he bounced it off my sword, the force of it and the
bushes behind me would knock me off balance.
J pamed, but I missed the pivot pointofthe blow. His
sword slid down the flat side of my blade and sliced
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epivotpoin e ow. s
sword slid down the flat side of my blade and sliced
across my bicep.
LAST SAMURAI
149
Blood pumped out like a wellspring. We both stared
at it. Crimson testimony to the mortality ofthis business
we were engaged in. lhe sight of it dripping down my
arm incensed me.
My anger over the high-handed way I had been
manipulated into this situation. being asked to risk my
life in something that was his affair and his affair alone
for no more reason than to placate his twisted vanity,
suddenly boiled to the surface.
I began swinging like an enraged bull. I didn 't care if
I never landed a blow. If I couldn 't cut him, I'd blud-
geon him to death.
He back-pedaled, trying to get away from me, but I
came after him on the run, swinging and slashing with
everything I had. He counter-stroked each blow of mine
(which was amazing considering how fast they were
raining down on him) but my cuts were too strong.
They popped his sword back into his face.
He knew he had to stay out from underneath me,
which meant he couldn 't stand and fight. He had to
keep moving away or take the full force of what I was
dealing him.
I had no intention of letting up. Now that I'd flushed
him I knew I had to finish him off.
We vied around one full circumference of the arena
with no change. I was still coming on strong, although I
could feel myself weakening. It had been a long night
and I 'd already been through more than I cared to
remember.
Finally, we reached the spot where he'd cut my arm.
A bright red stain marked the gravel. Now I had him. I
backed him into the shrubs, hacking at him like a
madman. Like I'd gone crazy.
lhere was no place for him to go. swung and
swung, wearing him down. He kept trying to back up,
but the bushes prevented him.
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NICK CARTER
He fought valiantly on his tiny square Of ground. but
eventually I proved too much for him. He lost his
balance and fell backward. I raised my sword for the
coup de grace, but he somers





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e grave. ow
bright stam mar
backed him into the shrubs, hacking at him like a
madman. Like I'd gone crazy.
niere was no place for him to go. I swung and
swung, wearing him down. He kept trying to back up,
but the bushes prevented him.
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NICK CARTER
He fought valiantly on his tiny square of ground, but
eventually I proved too much for him. He lost his
balance and fell backward. I raised my sword for the
coup de grace, but he somersaulted through the bushes
back onto his feet again, knee-deep in the reflecting
pool.
I didn •t even think. I reached down and grabbed one
of the florescent light fixtures which were wired in a
loose series along the floor and threw it in.
He howled like an animal when the voltage hit him.
The lights went black, except for a string in the ceiling
that must have been on a different circuit. Ihe water
bubbled and he stood stock still, his eyes starting out of
his head. He opened his mouth to scream again, but
nothing came out. Just his cheek muscles shook. In a
few seconds the sense was gone from behind his eyes.
He'd gotten what he wanted. He was dead.
I picked up the fixture by the wire and pulled it out of
the water. Ihe body hesitated a moment, then the knees
buckled and it fell into the water on its shoulder, the
face submerged.
I waded in and rolled the body face up. The eyes still
stared blankly and the mouth, frozen open, was par-
tially filled with water.
I took a hold under the armpits and pulled him out
onto the gravel. Then, laying him on his back, I used
Hugo to cut the wet knot of the sash and the buttons off
the shirt. Under the shirt was an undergarment of a
material that did not cut easily when wet, so I quickly
stripped off the kimono and the white outer shirt and
pulled the undershirt up over his head.
It was then I noticed something peculiar about his
arms. Each had a long thin scar that completely encir-
cled it just below the shoulder joint. The scars were too
neat and identical to have been the result of an accident.
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esasliåhdth ons o
the shirt. Under the shirt was an undergarment of a
material that did not cut easily when wet, so I quickly
stripped off the kimono and the white outer shirt and
pulled the undershirt up over his head.
It was then I noticed something peculiar about his
arms. Each had a long thin scar that completely encir-
cled it just below the shoulder joint. ne scars were too
neat and identical to have been the result of an accident.
THE LAST SAMURAI
151
He'd had surgery there, although I couldn't imagine
why.
Right now, though, I was too preoccupied to wonder
about it. I was looking for something else. I examined
the front of the top haJfof the body and found it—in the
flesh below the ribcage on the right side, a darkened
square of skin.
The light was bad, the enormity ofthe room being lit
by a handful of hundred-watt bulbs, but then the work
didn 't have to be cosmetic. Taking Hugo like a pencil, I
stippled an incision down the side and across the front
of the darkened area, until I'd made a long crimson
"L" just above the muscle layer. Then I lifted the
corner and took out a bloodied sack of surgical
polyurethane. Inside was a hard lump.
I walked over to the pond and washed it off. Then I
opened the sack with Hugo's razor edge, squeezed out
the lump and laid it in the palm of my hand: a piece of
computerized plastic no bigger than a dime.
squinted at it in the light. There was no way of
knowing if this was a copy or the real thing, and if
genuine, if it had any value. But I'd come by it hard,
fought through obstacle after obstacle to get it, and I
wasn't about to leave it behind. This and something
much more intangible—an affirmation of my faith in
my own abilities.
I slipped the chip into the breast pocket of my shirt
and buttoned it. qhen I wiped Hugo against my trouser
leg. I was about to put him back into his sheath when I
noticed again the incisions that had been made on the
upper arms. In the dim light the scars were the same
ghostly noncolor as the tissue masses that bulged from
either temple.
Could he have severed both arms, I wondered? Not
likely.




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either temple.
Could he have severed both arms, I wondered? Not
likely.
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NICK CARTER
I stoorrd down and began to do some more minor
surgery. I cut a line along the scar on the left arm about
half way around. Then I made another incision just like
it six inches lower and connected them with a third cut
down the soft underann. nen I peeled back the skin.
Underneath it looked like the insides of a sewing.
machine.
Bionic implants. So much for his amazing endur-
ance. And so much for kicking myself for not being
able to best him in Ann Arbor. In reality the man was an
insufferable bully.
My curiosity piqued, I cut open one of the lumps on
the side of the head. More circuitry, as I'd expected,
and then something I didn't expect, Beneath a flap of
skin, running from one temple around the back of the
head to its twin on the opposite side was a fine steel wire
insulated with plastic. An antenna, J thought. nis
meant he must have been in mental contact with his
computer all the time, although I had no idea how he 'd
managed it.
Minamoto's superpowers thus laid bare, I stood up
and put Hugo away. 'Ihen I walked over and picked up
my sword, which I had left lying on the gravel, and
carried it over to where its sheath still leaned with the
suits of annor against the stone benches. I had decided
to it with me. Several days from now, when I had
awakened from my long, well-deserved sleep, it would
prove to me all this had been more than just a bad
With the chip in my breast pocket and the sword in
hand, I went back to the sliding panel, which as far as I
could see was the only exit. It stood open. Apparently,
now that Minamoto was dead, the computer saw no
reason to keep me prisoner.
In the next room the lights were still on and water still
THE LAST SAMURAI
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flowed in the stream. I walked down the path to the fc»t
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With the chip in my breast pocket and the sword in
hand, I went back to the sliding panel, which as far as I
could see was the only exit. It stood open. Apparently,
now that Minamoto was dead, the computer saw no
reason to keep me prisoner.
In the next room the lights were still on and water still
THE LAST SAMURAI
153
flowed in the stream. I walked down the path to the fc»t
of the bridge, then down the embankment to where I'd
left Benkei lying. Only he wasn't there.
Broken pieces of black plastic still lay on the rock
where he'd crushed his face and one of his sandals
dangled from the low-hanging rubber foliage down-
stream. But the robot was gone. I looked through the
shrubs on my side, then waded across and checked the
other. From the condition of the sand on the far bank a
heavy-set man in crepe-soled shoes had dragged some-
thing from the water, then picked it up and carried it,
I followed his footprints through the artificial bushes
and trees until they entered the path and I lost them.
Then I began searching the path on both sides to the
bridge and back again to see if at any point they left the
path.
This was very disconcerting. There was no telling
who had walked off with it. It could have been some-
body connected with Minamoto, or some third party
who followed me in.
When I returned to my starting point after having
searched in both directions, it struck me that whoever it
was might still be in the room, watching and wondering
if he was going to have to kill me. I stopped walking and
listened. Below the bubbling of the stream water,
below even the hum of the air rushing in the ducts of the
ventilation system, there was a whirring sound, like the
spinning of a rotor in a small electrical device. It
sounded familiar. I'd heard it before, but I couldn't
remember where or when.
I went through the sliding panel into the room where
I'd fought the dragon. He was still there. big as a small
house, looking like a side-show freak with a sword
stuck in one mouth and another mouth biting it.
As soon as I came through the opening, I pressed my
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As soon as I came through the opemng. presse my
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NICK CARTER
I
back flat against the wall near the door and slowly drew
out the sword. I held my breath and listened for move-
ment in the other room. Nothing. Only the whirring
sound that I still couldn 't place. It seemed that now I 'd
identified it. I was hearing it everywhere,
I waited for several minutes, both hands ready on the
sword hilt, but no one came. Finally, I rushed the door
and stood in the empty opening, my gaze darting from
corner to corner in the rck)rn I 'd just left, but no one was
in sight.
I untensed my muscles and let the sword fall. Maybe
I was alone, I thought. Just me and the dragon, and that
damned noise. Then I realized the sound was different
here than it had been in the room with the stream. It was
coming from a different direction. In fact, it was com-
ing from the wall directly behind the dragon.
I walked over and laid my hand on the plaster from
where it seemed to me the sound was originating. It was
faint, but then the building was deathly quiet. I took out
Hugo and began tapping, looking for hollow spaces.
Two taps and I realized that what confronted me was
not a wall at all, but plaster on fabric stretched over a
frame. I cut through the fabric and peeled it back.
Behind it was a niche and in the niche a movie camera
whirred incessantly. It was set on a tripod and attached
to a cable so it could be panned in any direction by
remote control.
Then I remembered where I 'd heard the sound of one
of these cameras before. It was in the basement of the
apartment house in Ann Arbor just before my initial
contact with Minamoto.
I turned the camera around, unsnapped the rear com-
partment and pulled out the film casette. It was a Bashe,
like the one I'd sent to the lab. I unbuttoned the flap of
my breast pocket and was about to slip it in next to the
THE LAST SAMURAI
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microprocessor when something hard, about the consis-
tency of a gun butt, hit the back of my head.
My knees failed and I fell to the floor. I rolled over
and pulled myself onto all fours, staring at the floor




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era aroun , unsnapped the rear com-
partment and pulled out the film casette. It was a Bashe,
like the one I'd sent to the lab. I unbuttoned the flap of
my breast pocket and was about to slip it in next to the
THE LAST SAMURAI
155
microprocessor when something hard, about the consis-
tency of a gun butt, hit the back of my head.
My knees failed and I fell to the floor. I rolled over
and pulled myself onto all fours, staring at the floor
boards, my head doing barrel rolls. I tried to get up, but
another blow a few inches above my neck finished the
job. I and laid out face up, my head resting on
the terrible hot place where I 'd been hit. "Ihen the pain,
the light, the whirring noise everything—ceased.







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Seventeen
I came to the way I'd been trained to, letting con-
sciousness flow into my body, giving no outward sign I
was awake. I was stretched out on a narrow bed, my
head throbbing like a bass drum.
With one eye I surveyed the room. Small with plain
white walls and wood floor, with nothing in it but the
bed I was on and a nondescript table. At the table in a
rumpled white suit sat a man reading a newspaper. As
he tumed the page, he tiPIEd his face in my direction.
There was no mistaking that mug. It was Lo Sin.
Behind him was the door, a plain, solid-wood affair
with a dead bolt læk. It was closed. He turned another
page and I saw the blue-black barrel of a .38 revolver
that lay on the table a few inches from his hand.
I rolled over and gave out a grunt.
'Good. You 're awake, " he said, casting a glance in
my direction. He turned another page and held it be-
tween his plump fingers, perusing the back of it. "So,
we meet again, " he went on in that obnoxiously polite
way of his. "Ordinarily, it might be pleasant finding a
158
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NICK CARTER
familiar face in these strange surroundings, but may r
say that your face, Carter, is becoming most dreadfully
tedious. ' •
I sat up and put my feet on the floor. "How long have




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tween his plump fingers, perusing the back of it. "So,
we meet again, " he went on in that obnoxiously polite
way of his. "Ordinarily, it might be pleasant finding a
158
157
NICK CARTER
I
familiar face in these strange surroundings, but may r
say that your face, Carter, is becoming most dreadfully
tedious. ' •
I sat up and put my feet on the floor. "How long have
I been out?" I asked, rubbing the back of my head.
"Several hours. "
I felt a lump under my hair the size of a baby •s fist. It
was going to be tender back there for quite a while.
"You were supposed to freeze to death," I said.
*SWhat happened? You manage to convince those
Sherpas that money was more important than some old
monk's curse?"
"Let's just say I was able to persuade one of my
guides that leaving a man in a mountain pass twenty
thousand feet above sea-level without food or a tent for
protection was a barbaric practice."
'How much of your ill-gotten gold did it cost you? '
He didn't answer. I laughed even though it hurt.
g 'You were lucky. "
"We shall see what was luck, Mr. Carter, " he said
coldly, hunching over his newspaper again.
"So what's your angle this time?"
' 'Must you always suspect me? " he asked, not look-
ing up.
'Come off it. You wouldn 't wish your own mother a
happy birthday if there wasn 't something in it for you. I
should've known there was more to this than just some
nut's attempt at suicide. Why'd you hit me anyway?"
' 'I didn't hit you. "
"Somebody did. "
"You were about to muck up some carefully laid
plans. "
A soft tapping rattled the door. Lo Sin got up to
answer it, keeping his front to me, the revolver in his
hand.
firough the crack I saw a long-haired Chinese youth
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standing in the hall. He lmked like the kid I'd chased
down the basement steps in Ann Arbor. On his feet, I
noticed, were dirty, crerr-soled shoes. They spoke in
Mandarin.
S'ShalI I bring it now?" asked the kid.
"Yes." said Lo Sin. "Hess awake."
Then Lo Sin closed the door, and without looking at
me sat back down, put the gun on the table and returned
to his reading. There was the faintest play ofa smile on
his lips.
"You haven't told me why I got hit," I said.
"Carter, I don 't mean to be uncivil, " he said, putting
down the paper and fixing a look on me, ' 'but I clearly
have the upper hand for once and you have no choice
but to patient. " With that he turned back to his
newspaper and ignored me, leaving me wondering.
Time passed. Two minutes, maybe three. Not long
enough for me to figure a means of escape. nen
another knock came at the door. This time he stood up
and pointed the gun at me. "Get it," he said.
"Why? I'm sure it's for you. "
' 'mn't be smart," he said, brandishing the gun
between me and the door. "Answer it. "
S Give me a minute." I got slowly to my feet. I
hadn't been vertical for a while and I wasn't feeling
very steady.
I leaned on the table for support. This brought me
within a foot of his gun hand. I was about to make a grab
for it when he moved back along the wall.
"Who is it you're so anxious to have me see?"
"Never mind. Just open it. "
I put my hand on the knob, but I didn't turn it. I
couldn't imagine what was on the other side. The
Chinese kid with a pistol waiting to blow my head off?
' 'Go on," he coaxed. "It won't hurt you. Not yet,
160
NICK CARTER
1 pulled the door open, At first I flinched, then I
stared unable to believe my eyes. Standing noncha-
lantly in the doorway, his hands clasped calmly in front
of him, was a man who looked exactly like me.
"May I come in?" he asked, smiling.
' 'Nick Carter, meet Nick Carter," Lo Sin




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couldn't imagine what was on the other s e.
e
Chinese kid with a pistol waiting to blow my head off?
' 'Go on," he coaxed. "It won't hurt you. Not yet,
160
NICK CARTER
1 pulled the door open, At first I flinched, then I
stared unable to believe my eyes. Standing noncha-
lantly in the doorway, his hands clasped calmly in front
of him, was a man who looked exactly like me.
"May I come in?" he asked, smiling.
' 'Nick Carter, meet Nick Carter," Lo Sin
from behind me, obviously enjoying this joke.
I was too amazed to speak. He was perfect: same
eyes, same cleft chin. He even had short whiskers
growing where I sometimes have trouble shaving.
"Strains your credibility, does it, Carter?" laughed
Lo Sin. "Your eyes bulging? I don't think ltd ever see
the great Nick Carter so completely taken by surprise. "
"Is he for real?" I asked, the words coming out of
me in an awed whisper.
"Show him," Lo Sin demanded. The man opened
his coat, which was identical to the one I'd been wear-
ing earlier, and pulled his shin out ofhis pants. Then he
triggered a catch in his waist and a door swung in
his stomach. Behind the was a battery pack.
"Actually," Lo Sin explained, "he's better than
real. He d(Esn 't eat. Just recharge him every other day
and he 's as good as new. This was grounds for another
eruption of laughter. I sank onto the bed, staring dumb-
ly. When he was through enjoying himself, Lo Sin
harshly ordered the robot to sit down. Ihe robot duti-
fully sat in a chair behind the table.
"It's uncanny," I said.
'*Minamoto was a genius!" exclaimed Lo Sin.
"Look at those eyes. Look into them. Would you ever
believe he wasn't alive?"
The robot's eyes were a clear blue, like my own.
Every hair, every crease was copied there, even a scar
that had caused a small bald spot in my left brow. But I
saw right away whatLo Sin was talking about, It wasn •t
the physical similarity. In the alteration of their size and
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the mercurial changes of the brows around them, the
eyes seemed to be capable of the most subtle expres-





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eyes.
Into em. oul you ever
believe he wasn't alive?"
The robot's eyes were a clear blue, like my own.
Every hair, every crease was copied there, even a scar
that had caused a small bald spot in my left brow. But I
saw right away whatLo Sin was talking about, It wasn •t
the physical similarity. In the alteration of their size and
THE LAST SAMURAI
161
the mercurial changes of the brows around them, the
eyes seemed to be capable of the most subtle expres-
sion. As I stared, the robot blinked back at me with
benign non-personality.
"What do you he's worth?" asked Lo Sin
excitedly. "A million? Ten million? Is there any limit
to what you could ask for him?" He, too, stared at the
robot, his narrow (Yiental eyes wide with greed.
The room seemed to have been divided down an
imaginary line: Lo Sin and I on one side, gawking with
wonder and fascination at the on the other.
' 'Tell him who you are and who made you," Lo Sin
demanded, waving the gun at the robot.
The machine smiled politely, an expression so like
my own, it made me wince. Master created me
after ten years of effort, begun in the late months of
1971 and only just now finished. I was the second unit
of a group of twenty, eighteen of which remain uncom-
pleted. I was constructed as a gift for Master Lo Sin and
I am programmed to follow any order he gives me.
When he sells me as he plans, I will be reprogrammed
to follow the orders of whomever Master Lo Sin
choses."
I turned to look at Lo Sin. "He's grotesque," I said.
'You don 't actually think you 're going to fool anybody
this puppet, do you?"
with this . .
lhe big Ginaman moved around in front of me and
sat his heavy frame down draping one hip over the edge
of the table. The gun rested casually against the crease
where his trousers pulled tautly across his thigh.
"Of course, I will, dear boy. Not forever, perhaps,
but for a while. Long enough. Think of him not as a
robot, but as a guided missile, able to gain access to
places where only you and you alone can go. Always
armed to the teeth, but acting on the orders of whoever
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' 'You mean Washington?"
"It's a possibility. Mind you, it would take a good
deal of money to get me to part with him, but there are
those who would pay dearly to see certain friends of
yours eliminated. "
I thought of the casual way I often walked into
Hawk 's office, the way he sometimes stood gazing out
the window when he greeted me.
"And this was your brainchild, s' I said grimly, "ten
years in the making. "
' 'That's right. I met Minamoto ten years ago, when
he was living like a Spartan in the mountains above
Osaka. His army had been taken away from him. He
was on the verge of throwing himself into the sea. I'd
heard of him through my usual sources and you know
my penchant for things out of the ordinary. When I
found him, he was everything I'd been told he was and
more. When I saw Benkei waiting on him hand and foot
and realized he was bionic and not human, I knew I'd
discovered a gold mine. Why a character out of
Japanese folklore? I asked myself. Why not a real man?
' 'Minamoto pointed out the difficulties involved and
we hit on this plan to iron them out, whereby he'd get
what he wanted and 1 •d get what I wanted. You see, in
order to program a bionic replica indistinguishable
from the real thing, precise measurements have to be
taken. Movements have to be broken down into their
components, nervous habits have to be carefully blue-
printed. The voice, every aspect of a man's physical
presence has to be minutely duplicated. It is an enor-
mous job. Fortunately, the romance of dying like an
ancient samurai and doing his bit to undermine the
*stranglehold of the West, as he called it, appealed to
Minamoto, and he was more than happy to go along
with what I had in mind.
you see, every move you made here and in Ann
LAST SAMURAI
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was carefully monitored with cameras and other
devices. Then the information was analyzed and broken
down in the computer. Once we had the machine, it had
to be programmed to act like you."
The robot sat listening to the story of his creation




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ojng IS It to un mine the
*stranglehold of the West, as he called it, appealed to
Minamoto, and he was more than happy to go along
with what I had in mind.
you see, every move you made here and in Ann
LAST SAMURAI
163
was carefully monitored with cameras and other
devices. Then the information was analyzed and broken
down in the computer. Once we had the machine, it had
to be programmed to act like you."
The robot sat listening to the story of his creation
with a bland, passive smile.
"And I messed things up when I found the camera, '
I said.
"You severed a critical link in the plan. There was a
lapse of three weeks from the time we took the inforrna-
tion to the time the programming would be complete.
This was made doubly difficult in that we had to do it
without Minamoto's help. WPhich meant we weren't
going to make the switch here at the castle. nere was
an accident planned, A munitions truck in Riyadh
would inexplicably explode. You wouldn 't survive, but
our friend here would. But it was essential you left
tonight thinking this affair was over and done with.
When you found the camera and took the film, you left
us no choice . . "
s •I see. And now that you 've told me all this, you 're
equally obliged to . .
*'Precisely." Lo Sin smiled and let the heft of the
gun bounce against his thigh. "We'll have to speed up
the programming, but I 've been informed diis won't
present any insurmountable problem."
' 'And you intend to just blast me in the head with that
cannon? As artfully as all that? After all this time, can 't
you come up with something more inventive?"
A grin spread slowly across Lo Sin •s face. a horrible
grin that split his lips away from two rows of bad teeth
and gathered fat from his cheeks and jowls before it was
completed. ' 'As a matter of fact, a rather novel idea has
occurred to me, i' he said. "Your expression when you
opened that door and saw your own face staring back at
ou so tickled me
164
. . . honestly, Carter, Ihaven'thada
NICK CARTER
good belly-laugh like that in years .
cided to let our friend Dull the tn
that I've de




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you come up with something more inventive?"
A grin spread slowly across Lo Sin •s face. a horrible
grin that split his lips away from two rows of bad teeth
and gathered fat from his cheeks and jowls before it was
completed. ' 'As a matter of fact, a rather novel idea has
occurred to me, i' he said. "Your expression when you
opened that door and saw your own face staring back at
ousotickledme. . . honestly, Carter, Ihaven'thada
164
NICK CARTER
good belly-laugh like that in years .
that I've de
cided to let our friend pull the trigger. I think it shoul
be highly amusing to see you killed by your own
hand. "
Jid figured something like this. It was just the kind of
macabre twist that would to Lo Sin. But it had/
dawned on me, too, that between them there was onl
one weapon, which meant at some Lo Sin was
going to have to hand the gun to the robot. At the time o
transfer they would be vulnerable, tkcause it is impos-
sibleto hand someone a gun and aim it at the same time.
I had been watching his movements with the gun f
the last several minutes. Everytime he waved it around
my heart jumped. I poured every thought into obtaining
that weapon. I wanted it. My survival depended on it.
Lo Sin stood and turned to walk around behind the
table, taking the gun from his right hand and putting it
nn his left, talking all the while: "So, my young
friend," he said, referring to the robot, "the time is at
hand for you to come of age. '
So saying, he moved t*hind the chair until he was
standing behind and above the still-seated machine. He
held the gun in front of the robot's face with the left
hand so it could grab it with its right, still pointed at me.
Ihe robot sat listening to what Lo Sin was saying, his
eyes focusing first on the gun, then on me. Then he
reached out his hand to take hold of the butt, all this
happening in a split-second's time.
It was the moment of truth , now or never, I lashed out
with my right foot to kick the table into their faces and
occupy them while I charged, hopefully to gain control
of a gun that would be up for grabs.
My foot hit the table, but the table didn't moved,
There was a thud when the legs of it lifted an inch or so
then snapped back to the floor. I looked to see what had
happened and the robot was smiling at me, both hands





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then snapped back to the floor. I looked to see what had
happened and the robot was smiling at me, both hands
THE LAST SAMURAI
165
flat on the table top and a portion of his weight holding
it down.
LD Sin was grinning from ear to ear. "I should have
warned you, Carter. He knows all your tricks and can
anticipate your every move. He 's also stronger, faster.
In a way, he's a kind of a super-you."
Let him anticipate this, I thought, and dived for the
floor coming up with the table on my back. *Ihe gun
discharged. The powder burned all the way down my
spine as the slug ripped into the mattress me. I
grabbed the bottom of the table in both hands and
pushed it up, throwing the two of them against the wall.
Lo Sin got the worst of it. Ihe robot was somewhat
protected by his bulk.
' 'Carter!' • Lo Sin shouted, his voice strained by the
fact his face was being squeezed against the wall.
"Give it up! *Ihis is hopeless!
Lo Sin had been standing when I hit him with the
table, so I had the top half of his body and both his arms
pinned. But the robot had been sitting, and although I
knocked the chair over, only his shoulders and head
were caught. I fully expected him to slip out the side of
my makeshift vice. This didn't worry me. He wasn't
armed. It was Lo Sin with the gun who was the problem
and I had all my weight holding him at bay.
But the robot didn't slip out. He reached out from
under the table top and smacked the underside with the
side of his hand.
I wondered what he was up to. But I'd no more than
gotten the thought in my head, than he 'd hit it again and
splinters ofwood started flying. One more hit and I saw
a }ktfectly good oak table being laid to waste. The time
had come, I decided, to make a hasty retreat.
I dropped the table and made a rush for the door, but
I the robot's legs, which were splayed out in a '
me u and I overshot it. I regained my balance
166
NICK CARTER
against the wall, only by this time the robot, with
incredible agility, had pulled himself to his feet.
lhere wasn't time to be fancy. I put my arms out in
front of me to push him out of the way. He swept my




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splinters Ofw stan ytng. emore an sa
a }ktfectly good oak table being laid to waste. The time
had come, I decided, to make a hasty retreat.
I dropped the table and made a rush for the door, but
I the robot's legs, which were splayed out in a '
me u and I overshot it. I regained my balance
166
NICK CARTER
I
against the wall, only by this time the robot, with
incredible agility, had pulled himself to his feet.
lhere wasn't time to be fancy. I put my arms out in
front of me to push him out of the way. He swept my
arms aside and reared back for a haymaker aimed at my
jaw that, combined with the speed my head was mov-
ing toward it, would have broken my jaw and cheek-
bone, too.
Luckily, I ducked and it glanced off my head, and
while it didn't feel great, it didn't do the damage he
thought it was going to.
he missed, it threw him off balance to the
outside. I kept coming and my momentum pushed him
a little further in that direction, right into Lo Sin, who
was still trying to collect himself after his ordeal with
the wall and having had a table dropped on the tops of
his feet. They collided and while they were trying to
untangle themselves. I threw open the door and dashed
out into the hall.
"Carter! I'll kill you! " Lo Sinis voice reverberated
down the corridor. A shot boomed and the bullet split
wood in the support beam a few feet ahead of me.
I ran around the corner and saw two figures hurrying
down the hall in my direction, the Chinese kid and
another Oriental in a white lab coat. I ducked back and
flattened myself against the wall. They hastened around
the corner, half-running in response to Lo Sin's shouts
and the gun shot they 'd heard. I held my breath and they
went right past me. nen I slipped around and headed
up the hall in the direction from which they'd come.




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Eighteen
I ran for fifteen minutes without a rest, down halls
and up stairs, checking over my shoulder every few
seconds to make sure Lo Sin and his crew weren 't
gaining on me.
I was no longer in the part of the house where I'd
drunk tea and fought with Minamoto. I'd vaulted across
a courtyard a few minutes ago and entered the castle
tower, or "keep," as it's called in Japan.
Things here were radically different. lhe halls were
low-ceilinged, wide, and unlit, and the walls, what
there were of them, were rice paper panels, the type the
Japanese traditionally use to divide their houses. But
for the most part, there were no walls, just railings of
roughly-hewn wood strung between support beams en-
I closing large empty spaces.
It was this way floor after floor. I was getting higher
and higher in this part of the house and there didn't
seem to be any change. Whenever I stopped to listen, I
heard them on the floor below. And I was fast running
out of stairs to climb.
168
167
NICK CARTER
Finally, from a long, deserted hall, dark because it
was on the side of the house, I tumed the
comer into another hall, this one lit by a long window
through which the moon beamed. I stopped running
when I got to the window and stood holding on to the
sill. panting. I needed a moment to catch my breath.




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Finally, from a long, deserted hall, dark because it
was on the side of the house, I tumed the
comer into another hall, this one lit by a long window
through which the moon beamed. I stopped running
when I got to the window and stood holding on to the
sill. panting. I needed a moment to catch my breath.
lhe way I saw it, I had two choices: get out and get
help or stay and try to figure out a way to detonate the
dynamite charges in the foundation footings, the ones
Minamoto had talked about shortly before he died.
If I got out, I doubted I'd make it back before they 'd
all fled, equipment and everything, which meant there
was a possibility I might lose track of my bionic dupli-
cate. Under no circumstances -could I allow that to
happen.
On the other hand, those dynarnite charges had been
weighing on my mind since I 'd first heard about them.
With the simple flip of a switch, I could destroy the
house and everything in it. There was something in the
neatness of that that appealed to me. The trick came in
finding the switch and figuring out a way to flip it. That
was, provided Minamoto wasn't just blowing out hot
air when he threatened me.
I heard their fcx)tfalls thudding in the hallway behind
me and took off again. I hung a right down a hall lined
with a bank of windows all casting a square of moon-
light on the then another right into one that was
dark. Soon, I knew I should come to a staircase that
would take me to the next level. I realized that by this
time there couldn't be too many levels left, but 1
thought there should be at least one more. lhe only
problem was I'd already traversed three-fourths of the
tower's perimeter and still hadn't seen any stairs. Then
I came around a corner and saw something obscured bv
the shadows. I'd almost run right past it.
THE LAST SAMURAI
169
As a staircase, it was much narrower than the stairs
on other levels. lhere four men might have past
ly room for me.
was





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ere cou n t e too many levels left, but 1
thought there should be at least one more. lhe only
problem was I'd already traversed three-fourths of the
tower's perimeter and still hadn't seen any stairs. Then
I came around a corner and saw something obscured bv
the shadows. I'd almost run right past it.
THE LAST SAMURAI
169
As a staircase, it was much narrower than the stairs
on other levels. lhere four men might have past
abreast. Here there was barely room for me.
At the top of the stairs was a locked doon I slammed
it with my shoulder and it flew open. Inside the room
was small and dark, but the outside walls were all
window. It was apparent. though I couldn't see much,
that it had been inhabited not too long ago. Ther was a
desk in the middle of the floor and bookcases against
one wall.
I didn't have time to examine any of this, however. I
heard them coming on the floor below, and I had to find
a place to hide, quickly.
There was no glass in the window, just a broad
shutter hinged at the top and held open by several
long-necked hooks fastened to the eaves outside.
I reached out and pulled down hard on the shutter. The
hinges creaked from disuse, but it felt solid. I stood up
in the window, got a good grip on the shutter's frame,
and stepped out into empty space. For a second I dan-
gled at the end of the shutter like a water drop at the end
of a wet knife-blade, a cold wind whipping the shirt
against my back. Two hundred feet below me, craggy
rocks waited like gnarled teeth.
I turned myself around and worked my way down
hand over hand to where one of the iron hooks held the
shutter open, I latched on to the bottom of it with one
hand and got the other hand around it a few inches
higher. Ihen I heard the sickening sound of metal
wrenching out of wood.
I looked up and my stomach sank when I saw an inch
of the hook's threading had been torn from its anchor.
My weight was too much for it.
My only was to my weight and take
some of the burden off this one corner. Frantically, I
J 70
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began to pull up until I could get a leg over and a hand in
the eaves. I put the tips of the fingers of my other hand
into the crevice where the shutter was hinged and
hauled myself onto the back of it, placing the sides of
my shoes on a narrow strip of wood along the bottom.
I made it without a second to spare. I 'd just managed
to sidestep my way out to the middle to avoid it collaps-
ing under me, when they burst into the room, Lo Sin,
the duplicate, the Chinese kid, and three or four others.
They turned on the light and began searching.
I was right. It was some kind of study, probably
Minamoto's. They rummaged through the closets,
pulled the bookcases from the wall, and looked under
the desk. Then they shook their heads.
door's been forced. He must be in here," Lo
Sin said in gruff Chinese. "You wait and keep watch,'
he told the robot. "Ihe rest of you come with me."
They hustled out and the robot sat down in the desk
chair. I spied between my handholds on the crevice,
anxious to see what he would do when left alone.
'Thirty seconds passed. He sat bolt upright in the
chair, staring forward. A minute, two minutes. He
stirred not a muscle.
He was listening, I was sure of it. And his hearing
was probably better than any human 's. I wondered if he
could pick out the rise and fall of my breathing through
the hum of the wind and the sound of the surf splashing
below us.
I didn't dare move. The least creak of the shutter's
hinges might tip him off, and I didn't need more than
one demonstration of his amazing strength to know I
didn 't want to tangle with him unless it was necessary.
So we waited, like a mouse being stalked by a blind cat,
until I heard a sound like metal straining. I looked down
and saw the weakened hook about to pull loose.
THE LAST SAMURAI
171
I watched the robot anxiously , u-ying to determine if
he had heard it, t(X). *Ihen I watched the hook. It was
pulling out, this time silently, a millimeter at a time.
Another few seconds and it would give way. There was
no telling if the other hook would hold if this one gave




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So we waited, like a mouse being stalked by a blind cat,
until I heard a sound like metal straining. I looked down
and saw the weakened hook about to pull loose.
THE LAST SAMURAI
171
I watched the robot anxiously , u-ying to determine if
he had heard it, t(X). *Ihen I watched the hook. It was
pulling out, this time silently, a millimeter at a time.
Another few seconds and it would give way. There was
no telling if the other hook would hold if this one gave
out, but my guess was it wouldn •t—which meant in a
short time I was going to be sliding off my perch and
swan-diving two hundred feet to my death, unless I did
something fast.
Lo Sin suddenly walked in the study door and
motioned to the robot. "Come with me, " he said. "He
fcx)led us. He must have broken the door, then hid in the
shadows when we came in. Quickly, we have no time to
lose. "
The robot followed him out without a word, leaving
the door open and the lights on.
Ihey weren't gone more than a second, when the
hook pulled free and the other snapped right after it. I
plummeted off the rough wood and would have nose
dived into the jagged rocks below, had I not managed to
hold on to a thin strip of molding along the bottom of the
shutter.
I hung by my fingertips, my heart beating in my
mouth. Below in the moonlight the waves coiled and
uncoiled on the rocks.
I had to act fast. My fingers weren 't going to hold on
forever. By bouncing myself against the side of the
tower, I was able to pull the shutter far enough from the
window to put my thumbs underneath. •nen I slid my
hands along the bottom of the frame, working my way
back to the corner. fiis was an agonizing I
reached my goal just as my fingers began to cramp.
The object I had in mind was a short strut which
supported the gable that jutted out over the window. It
was quite a bit below the window, but I figured if I
172
NICK CARTER
could get my feet on it, at least I wouldn't be in danger
of falling.




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window to put my thumbs underneath. en s my
hands along the bottom of the frame, working my way
back to the corner. fiis was an agonizing I
reached my goal just as my fingers began to cramp.
The object I had in mind was a short strut which
supported the gable that jutted out over the window. It
was quite a bit below the window, but I figured if I
172
NICK CARTER
I
could get my feet on it, at least I wouldn't be in danger
of falling.
J got one foot in the V the strut made with the side of
the building, but it was the wrong foot. It was the right,
which left me plastered against the rough shingles with
my hands hooked on the bottom of the shutter and one
foot stretched way to one side. It was an impossible
position.
With a little more maneuvering I managed to extend
myself out even further on the shutter frame and hook
my calf and eventually my knee into the strut. From
there it was sheer strength alone that got me uprights
straddling the strut, and looking down at the choppy
surf of the Mediterranean.
I was still a long way from being out of this mess. I
stood as best I could and reached for the window. The
only problem now was the shutter. It hung down in
front of the opening, and while I could get my hand on
the sill, the shutter prevented me from swinging myself
in. lhe only solution was to put one hand on the
window and the other on the frame inside the shutter
and just muscle my way up.
It was equivalent to an iron cross on the standing
rings, but not impossible. I got a good grip, making
sure my hands were dry, then heaved with all my
strength. The muscles pulled taut, those in my arms and
down both my sides.
I raised myself until the top of my head was level
with the sill, but I needed to go further to where I could
bend my body and pull my legs up.
I was close, but not quite there, when a familiar pain
began to grow in my side. It was the point of contact
where Minamoto had kicked me in Ann Arbor what
seemed like eons ago. My body began to quiver. I was
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e y et go and fell back onto the strut,
THE LAST SAMURAI
173
still holding the shutter in one hand and the sill in the
other.
For a minute or more all I did was pant and lay with
my feet dangling. My muscles felt as though somebody
had tried to pull them out of their tendons. I looked
down and watched the waves crash into the rcxks be-
low, like a mouth forever opening and closing. I knew I
was going to have to try it again. It was just a matter of
building up the momentum and strength.
Several minutes went by. I took a deep breath and
up. ms time, I told myself, I wasn't going to
play it safe by keeping my feet on the strut until the last
minute. It only hindered my balance. I was going to
have to just dangle, and if I didn't make it, then the
disaster would be complete.
I took hold again and stepped off the strut. Now it
was just and the window and two hundred feet of
empty space. I pulled with everything I had, pushing
the shutter out away from the window at the same time
that I raised my head.
It was tparable this time. I was higher. I could see
into the room. My whole body was shaking with the
effort. I tucked into a pike position and threw both legs
over at once,
I hit the floor rather awkwardly, half my body out-
side of the sill, the lower half in, but I was safe. I
straightened up and looked around in the light.
The furnishings in the room fit with Minamoto's idea
of himself as the warrior prince. Everything was cut
down to the minimum, simple shelves, drafting table,
chair, desk, reading lamp. It seemed odd that Lo Sin
hadn't wrecked the place looking for me, but then I
remembered at times he was capable of Feculiar little
acts of respect, like the way he must have deholstered
Wilhelmina while I was unconscious, satisfied himself
174
NICK CARTER
she was empty, then returned hen She'd been there
when I woke up, riding under my arm just as always.
I went around to the desk and started rummaging
through drawers. I needed a gun, and although chances




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chair, desk, reading lamp. t seem
at
In
hadn't wrecked the place looking for me, but then I
remembered at times he was capable of Feculiar little
acts of respect, like the way he must have deholstered
Wilhelmina while I was unconscious, satisfied himself
174
NICK CARTER
I
she was empty, then returned hen She'd been there
when I woke up, riding under my arm just as always.
I went around to the desk and started rummaging
through drawers. I needed a gun, and although chances
were good Minamoto didn't even own such a thing. I
had to give the place a once-over just to make sure.
ne first drawer contained writing materials, pens.
paper, paper clips, erasers. ne second, more paper,
investment brochures, keys of various kinds. I grabbed
these and stuffed them in my pocket. ney might come
in handy if I ran into a lock I couldn't open.
"Ihe bottom drawer was more interesting. It was
packed with newspaper clippings. I began looking
through them and they read like an AXE scrapbook.
Every article dealt with an assignment the agency had
tackled over the last ten years. And in every case I'd
played some part. It was all there in detail.
So Minamoto'd done his homework. I threw the
clippings back in a heap and slammed the drawer. Ihen
I pulled the chair aside and the thin middle
drawer just under the desk top. I'd skipped this one
because I thought it was too narrow for a revolver,
There was nothing inside but an old book, placed
squarely in the center of the drawer, and so obviously
and deliberately situated in that spot, that I thought for
sure it was booby-trapped i
I carefully flipped over the front cover. It was a copy
of the haiku-sinatori, an epic Japanese poem. It was for
the samurai what The Iliad was for the Greeks. Then I
realized how absurd it was to think this book was rigged
with explosives. It was situated this way because of the
special significance Minamoto placed on it.
I picked it up and began to leaf through it. I under-
stand much of spoken Japanese, but I don't read its
THE LAST SAMURAI
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piC Japanese poem. twas or
the samurai what The Iliad was for the Greeks. Then I
realized how absurd it was to think this book was rigged
with explosives. It was situated this way because of the
special significance Minamoto placed on it.
I picked it up and began to leaf through it. I under-
stand much of spoken Japanese, but I don't read its
THE LAST SAMURAI
175
written characters easily without a dictionary. Most of
it was unintelligible.
I came across one page, however, where Minamoto
had drawn a Fn line down the side of a column, the
method of underlining Japanese. It was a passage con-
cerning the repulsion of the Mongol invaders from
Japanese shores in the thirteenth century. Roughly
translated it read:
And after beseeching Amateratsu (God-
dess of the Sun) , a cloud no bigger than the span of
a man's hand appeared in the evening sky. It
swelled and billowed until it blotted out the sun
and cries of uneasiness were heard from across the
water where the Mongol vessels lay anchored.
By nightfall a mighty stonn rose up and the
wind raged and beat at the waves like a maddened
herdsman, crashing them against the Mongol
hulls, driving their ships into the rcxks and each
other, and laying their sails flat upon the sea.
And in the dawning light, when the wind had
subsided, the sea was seen to be strewn with
wreckage as though tegu [a finely-chopped kind-
ling wood used in the tea ceremony] had been
scattered over the water.
Emperor Kameyama bent his knee in prayer to
Amateratsu and called the wind "kamaikaze" or
divine.
The character for kamaikaze was underlined twice.
Interesting, I thought, from a cultural pint of view,
when one considered what the word meant to Ameri-




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nteresung, ou
when one considered what the word meant to Ameri-
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NICK CARTER
cans who'd lived through World War II and remem-
bered the dreaded kamaikaze pilots who threatened our
Pacific fleet with their suicide dives into a ship 's stacks
or bridge. To the Japanese it meant a wind sent from
heaven that saved their country from invasion.
Interesting ,
. . but it wasn't a gun. I threw thebook
back into the drawer and closed it.
lhere didn't seem to be much point in lcx•king
further. I was going to have to find the main computer
and take my chances unarmed.









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Nineteen
It wasn't until I got down to what I guessed to be the
third level from the bottom that I bumped into the
surprise Lo Sin had left there for me.
j I had come down the six or seven floors from
Minamoto's study as cautiously as I could, stepping as
lightly as possible, being wary of every creaking floor-
board, and it had taken me a good fifteen minutes.
I down a long, dark hall, keeping to the
shadows to avoid a trapezoid of moonlight that lay on
the floor, I suddenly saw the orange glow of a cigarette
grow bright for a second, then go dim again,
I froze. ne glow came from under the window less
than twenty feet away. He was sitting on the floor,
whoever he was. I could barely make him out in the
shadow.
I There was noway of telling if he'd heard me, Istayed
like I was. still as a statue, not daring to breathe. *Ihe
cigarette wavered back and forth, glowing bright again,
then dimming.
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Several minutes slipped by. nen he stood an
leaned out the window, flicking the cigarette into th
sea. Judging from his silhouette, he was young
French, and wearing a turtleneck sweater. Out from th
shadow of his body extended the long muzzle of a
automatic rifle.
Local muscle, I thought. One of Lo Sin's recruits.
I could have rushed him from where I was an
shoved him out the window onto the rocks below. He'
be too surprised to put up any resistance, and chance
were any outcry he made would be lost in the sound o
the waves. I could do that, I thought, but it would c
me the rifle.
So I waited. He stared out the window for seve
minutes, mumbling something to himself. While h
was preoccupied, I moved a step or two closer. Eventu-
ally, he tired of whatever he was thinking and sat bac
down. I was within six feet of him by this time an
obviously he still hadn't seen me.
He spread his legs out on the floor, resting his bac
against the wall, the rifle across his lap. He pulled
pack of cigarettes out from underneath the sweater, li
one with a lighter, and put the lighter down next to hi
on the floor. He blew a billow of smoke into the moon
light, then leaned his head back against the wall, expos-
ing his throat and the faint shadow ofhis Adam 's apple.
I was close enough now. I raised my left foot into a
kick position, then slammed it into his windpipe. His
head bounced against the wall and he fell forward on the
floor, writhing back and forth, holding his throat and
barking like a seal.
Ihis went on for thirty seconds. Finally I picked up
the rifle and walked over to him, raising the butt of it
and watching for an opportunity in his gyrating to bring
it down on the back of his skull and put him out of his
THE LAST SAMURAI
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misery. But before I could, he stopped moving and just
twitched. I checked his pulse. He was dead.
I rolled him over, pulled off the turtleneck sweater,
and tried it on. It wasn't a great fit, but it would do.
Then I shouldered the rifle and continued on down the




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IrtysecondSIFin PIC e up
the rifle and walked over to him, raising the butt of it
and watching for an opportunity in his gyrating to bring
it down on the back of his skull and put him out of his
THE LAST SAMURAI
179
misery. But before I could, he stopped moving and just
twitched. I checked his pulse. He was dead.
I rolled him over, pulled off the turtleneck sweater,
and tried it on. It wasn't a great fit. but it would do.
Then I shouldered the rifle and continued on down the
stairs.
Two more waited for me outside the door. ney were
huddled together in the courtyard, lighting cigarettes by
cupping their hands over a match.
s 'I don 't see why we don 't just set fire to it and smoke
the American out," one said in French. He too was
wearing a turtleneck, and carried his rifle by the barrel.
"He wouldn't like that," the other said.
'*Sometimes we think too much of what he says. "
I watched them from just inside the tower door. It
was the way I'd come in and, as far as I knew, the only
way out. I brought the rifle to my shoulder and fixed its
sights on the head of the guard nearest me. But I didn •t
fire. It would have been a stupid move. I followed him
for a few minutes with the gun trained on him, then put
it down.
There had to be another way, less sloppy. I didn't
want to raise an alarm, and I didn't want to take the
chance of getting pinned down in a gun battle.
So I reached into my bag of tricks for an old one. I
I went back upstairs to where the other guard's body lay
stretched out by the window. I lay the gun on the floor
and felt the rough beams that acted as room dividers
until I found a sizable loose chip of wood, Then, taking
up the gun, I wedged the wood between the trigger and
trigger guard, pulling the trigger back just short of the
point where the gun would fire. Then I stood the
weapon carefully in the corner.
Next, I went back to the body and got out the
cigarette pack from the breast pocket of the dead man's
180
NICK CARTER
shirt. I one out and lit it. It tasted good, strong and
French, and I hadn't had a cigarette in a long time. I




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