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advantage here, because this is a form of grappling, and much
of judo consists of grappling. I punched one in the chest, butted
another in the groin, and made working room for myself. But as I
lifted my head, ready to try for a joint technique or strangle, I felt
cold steel around my neck.
My hands went up, but it was the noose of a manriki gusari, a
twelve-inch chain weighted at the ends. Bogged down as I was,
unable to maneuver, with my antagonist tightening the noose from
the rear, I was helpless. I made one valiant effort, throwing my
head forward, trying to jerk the ends out of his hands, but only
succeeded in tightening it.
I began to black out. Strangulation looks and sounds awful,
and many people oppose execution by hanging as cruel and unusual
punishment, but actually it is one of the less painful ways to
go. It can even be pleasant, for your fading awareness conjures
visions. After the initial discomfort-and discomfort was what it
was, rather than pain-I felt a great lassitude, a pleasurable sinking.
I saw the face of Chiyako, my lovely fiancée. "Come to me . . ."
my lost one called, and I went to rejoin her.
Then an ear-splitting kiai yell cut through my contentment, a
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hot knife through butter. Suddenly the pressure was off. I took in
a rasping lungful of air as the chain unwound.
I tried to stand, but could not. I fell to my knees. If the going
had been blissful, the returning was agonizing.
Arms caught me, lifting me to my feet. A hated face loomed
before me, smiling. Then I knew that I was not going to be allowed
to expire peacefully; my mortal enemy wanted me alive-
for a time.
"Hotheaded fool," Kan-Sen said. "You and I have no quarrel. I
tried to call out to you, but you gave me no chance to explain. I
would dearly like to boil you in oil, but I cannot. I must help you,
for we are on the same side now."
"Why lie to me?" I demanded. "We shall be enemies as long as
either lives!"
"Hate, yes. Enemies, no. I killed your woman, you destroyed
my empire. But now I am Fu Antos' right-hand man."
"Fu Antos!" How could he know of that?
"It is for him I need the weapons. I serve him; he freed me
from my demon addiction and turned my eyeballs white again. I
am as loyal to him as I was to the drug. He tells me I must work
with you, so I obey."
Then I perceived hell. I hated Kan-Sen with unrelenting passion.
I remembered his leering face as he slid the knife across the
fair throat of my beloved and let her blood gush out. Ever since
that time I had dreamed of new ways to slaughter him, if only he
were not dead already. Now he was alive, after all.
But what he said had to be true, for nothing else would have
compelled him to spare me. And his eyeballs were white, instead
of red from the Kill-13 addiction. Only ki could do that, and only
ki of the power Fu Antos possessed. I knew, for I had wrestled with
that addiction myself, and brought Ilunga out of it after a terrific
struggle. Kan-Sen had been no short-term addict, but the master
of the demon cult.
The demon and I were expected to work together now. What
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sane entity would seriously believe that I would ever tolerate such
an abomination?
"Fu Antos, you are Satan!" I whispered, meaning it.
Kan-Sen nodded agreement.
Epilogue:
NINJA'S MINIONS
Fu Antos smiled as he read the note. It was in Chinese symbols,
so similar to the Japanese writing that he had no trouble
with it. He returned the homing pigeon to its hutch.
The message was from Kan-Sen. The demon had made contact
with Jason Striker and located a superlative cache of modern
barbarian weapons. Not merely rifles and ammunition, but portable
antitank launchers and missiles, red-eye antiplane missiles,
and similar artifacts. Arrangements were being made to transport
these across the sea and up the Amazon River to the ninja enclave
hidden in the jungle.
This would enable him to defend his campsite from any likely
attack. As his other far-flung minions performed, gaining him necessary
supplies, he would construct the third Black Castle. From it
he would manage his crusade against the physical and philosophical
poisoning of his world.
Too bad he had not been able to prevent that decay by killing
Lord Ii. He had severely underestimated the decadent trend. Now
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he knew that complete isolation was not practical, and that no
single assassination could be depended on to reverse the tide of
history. He had to be more aware of the world, and work toward
its improvement.
Gradually, inevitably, the ideal would be restored-bushido,
the samurai warrior code of medieval Japan. All over the world!
Glossary
aikido [ai-KEE-doh] A martial art, strictly defensive in philosophy
and application, specializing in avoidance of brute force.
It is noted for its application of the inner power of the mind,
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