Warrior Spirit

“No. Outside of Tokyo, actually. There’s a small industrial town to the northwest called Chiba-ken. He teaches there.”

Ken could feel Annja’s excitement rise a notch. It felt as if the car had filled with electricity. Annja looked at him, her eyes widening. Ken felt himself drawn into them, as if he could get lost in the secrets they contained. He shook himself slightly, trying to keep himself composed.

Annja touched him on the arm. “I’d like to meet this man.”

Ken had known she would. He had studied enough about Annja to know that she would never turn down the chance to learn something new or at least explore something that supposedly didn’t exist anymore.

“He teaches tomorrow night.” He smiled. “If you like, we can go to his class then.”

Annja leaned back in her seat and nodded. “So, I’ll meet the last grandmaster of ninjitsu . Cool.”

Ken chuckled. “Well, others claim they are, in fact, also grandmasters, but it’s mostly false.”

“How so?” Annja asked.

“The man you’ll meet tomorrow night is the only one recognized by the Japanese government as being legitimate. He’s been labeled a national living treasure, as well, since he helps maintain a piece of Japan’s past and its traditions—even one as controversial as ninjitsu .”

Annja grinned. “I’ve recovered a lot of treasures before. I don’t think I’ve ever met a living treasure, though.”

“He’ll like you.”

“How do you know?”

Ken looked at her. “Because you’re beautiful. And he happens to love beautiful women.”

Annja frowned. “Give me a break.”

The light finally changed and Ken pressed the accelerator. “I didn’t mean to upset you with that comment.”

Annja shrugged. “Sorry. It’s just I get tired of hearing that people either like or dislike based entirely on whether a person is attractive or not.”

“I meant it only as a compliment.”

“I know.” Annja ran a hand through her hair. “Sometimes I think I hear it too often.”

“Most people, they wouldn’t mind hearing that said about them,” Ken said.

Annja shook her head. “I don’t hear it said about me often. Mostly I hear it said about other women.”

Ken smiled. “That other anchor on Chasing History’s

Monsters . What was her name? The one with the sexy wardrobe malfunction.”

“Kristie Chatham.” Annja sighed. “She and I have differing views on how best to present a story to our audience.”

Ken made a left turn, checking his rearview mirror. He didn’t see anything there that concerned him. “In her defense, there’s nothing wrong with being beautiful.”

“But when it obscures the topic at hand, when the audience downloads a video to see a top pop off rather than the story, then that’s a problem. At least it is in my book. I think I’m in the minority of opinion, though,” Annja said.

Ken laughed. “Probably so. But I find your journalistic integrity refreshing.”

“Yeah?”

Ken nodded. “Yes. I can assure you there will be no time for the wearing of bikini tops on this trip to find the artifact. I think, therefore, you are reasonably safe.”

“Great.”

Ken wheeled the Mercedes down another side street. “We’re almost there.”

“Almost where?” Annja glanced out the window. Ken could see she had no idea where they were. He knew trying to gauge location at night in a foreign city was a daunting task.

“Your hotel, of course.”

Annja frowned again. “You know where I’m staying?”

“Of course.”

She turned and Ken could see her hands bunched up, almost as if she thought he might attack her. He held up his hands for a brief moment, risking taking them off the steering wheel for effect.

“I’m not stalking you, Annja. If that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I might be.” She kept her hands bunched up.

“You’re cautious. I can certainly appreciate that. I try to be that way myself. Especially when I travel.”

“So you understand why I’m about two seconds away from getting out of this car and never seeing you again.”

Ken pulled over to the side of the road and unlocked the doors. “You’re more than welcome to leave. Although honestly, I hope you don’t.”

She looked at the door and then back at Ken. “Why do you know where I’m staying?”

“Because I’m careful about who I approach and entrust with confidential information.” He looked in the rearview mirror again. “I like making sure people are who they claim to be.”

“I don’t claim to be anyone but an archaeologist. That’s it.” Annja pursed her lips. “If you’ve heard otherwise, you were misled.”

Ken braced his hands on the steering wheel and stretched his back, relieving some of the tension he felt creeping into his muscles. “It’s a force of habit. I’ve been dealing with people throughout my entire life who were often not operating in my best interests. Ulterior motives are a nasty business.”

“Agreed,” Annja said. She seemed to relax slightly.

Ken tilted his head. “But you are without guile. I can talk to you about the nature of my family’s troubles. I can ask for your help and guidance and I feel quite comfortable doing so.”

Annja waggled her eyebrows. “You never know, Ken. I might just be a plant.”

Ken shook his head. “And there you have the reason I know where you are staying.”

Annja sniffed. “You’ve had me staked out since I landed?”

Ken took a breath. “If we’re being honest about things…it has actually been a bit longer than that.”