The Sword Read online

  The Sword

  by

  Alex Lukeman

  Copyright © 2019 by Alex Lukeman

  http://www.alexlukeman.com

  This is a work of fiction. Organizations, places, events and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or used entirely as an element of fiction. Any resemblance of characters in this book to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means except by prior and express permission of the author.

  Other Books in the Project Series:

  White Jade

  The Lance

  The Seventh Pillar

  Black Harvest

  The Tesla Secret

  The Nostradamus File

  The Ajax Protocol

  The Eye of Shiva

  Black Rose

  The Solomon Scroll

  The Russian Deception

  The Atlantis Stone

  The Cup

  High Alert

  Solomon's Gold

  Phoenix

  The Last Option

  The Black Templar

  PROLOGUE

  Mejiro, Japan

  January, 1946

  Sergeant Hiroto Sato stood behind the counter of his police station. His shift was about to end, and he was looking forward to getting home to his wife and his evening meal. There would be rice, miso, a bit of fish. Food was more plentiful, now that the war was over.

  The door opened. Two of the gajin conquerors entered, one wearing the stripes of a sergeant. A breeze blew past them through the open door, bringing with it a whiff of body odor. Sato fought to maintain a passive face. These foreigners had such an offensive smell. How could they live with it?

  Sato bowed. He hated to do it, but it was necessary. Of course, the Americans failed to return the polite gesture.

  Barbarians.

  Sato spoke reasonably good English. It was one of the reasons he'd been promoted to sergeant after the humiliation of the surrender. That, and the empty sleeve that showed his sacrifice for the Emperor.

  "How can I help, Sergeant?"

  "How about that, Mike?" the man said to his companion, a corporal. "A Nip that speaks English."

  "Let's get the damn swords and get out of here, Sarge."

  The Sergeant took an official looking piece of paper out of his pocket and put it down on the counter.

  "We're here to pick up the swords you've collected."

  One of the edicts laid down by the occupying forces demanded that all swords, knives, and daggers be turned in to the nearest police station for collection. There had been incidents of American servicemen being attacked. The war was over, but some refused to admit it.

  "Ah," Sato said. "Yes, Sergeant, at once."

  He turned toward the back of the station, calling out in Japanese.

  "Kazahiro! Bring the swords. American soldiers are here for them."

  "I would like to shove one up their ass," Kazahiro said.

  "Perhaps on another day. Bring them, please."

  "All of them?"

  "Hai."

  In a moment Kazahiro emerged from the back room, pushing a cart loaded with swords. On top of the cart was a package wrapped in brown paper and string.

  "Tell your man to take them out to our truck," the American Sergeant said.

  Sato translated the order and Kazahiro trundled the cart out into the street.

  Sato produced a form in Japanese that listed forty-seven swords of various lengths and styles. The American would never understand the distinctions between them. Sato didn't bother to explain.

  "I must fill out this form, Sergeant. What is your name?"

  Sato listened to the response and wrote down the Japanese characters for the name.

  "What is your military unit?"

  "Seventh Cavalry, U.S. Army."

  Sato wrote it down.

  "Is that it?" the sergeant said.

  "You must sign, here."

  The sergeant took a pen from his pocket and signed, a rapid scrawl.

  "Domo."

  "Am I done now?"

  "Hai."

  "Great," the Corporal said. "Let's get out of here. Place stinks of fish."

  As the two men left the station, the Sergeant bumped into Kazahiro coming back in.

  Sato knew it was a good thing the Japanese policeman didn't have one of those swords in his hands at that moment.

  Outside by the truck, the sergeant picked up the long, paper wrapped package. He could feel the handle and guard of a sword under the thick wrapping.

  "Wonder why they wrapped this one up? All the others are loose."

  "Who cares? Let's take a couple of these before the officers grab them. I want a souvenir to show the folks back home."

  "I'll keep this one."

  They tossed the rest of the swords into the truck and headed back to the barracks. Six months later, the sergeant went back to the states, the sword stowed away in his duffel bag. He had no idea that his souvenir was a priceless treasure, a legendary sword of the samurai.

  Over the centuries it had been quenched with rivers of blood.

  The samurai had vanished into the mists of history, but the bloodshed wasn't over.

  ONE

  A black Mercedes limousine followed along a low stone wall until it came to a stop before a gate of iron set between two stone posts. A small brass plaque announced the Harker Group. The gate was closed, an intercom mounted on the left post. The driver rolled down his tinted window and pressed the call button. Seconds later, a reply sounded through the speaker.

  "Yes."

  "Atagi Nobuyasu to see Ms. Harker."

  "Please follow the driveway to the main house."

  The massive gate slowly swung open. The limo proceeded through the manicured grounds of a large estate until it came to a federal style mansion built of gray stone. A broad, columned portico sheltered the main entrance. The car stopped under the portico. A muscular Japanese man got out and opened the rear door. A second Japanese man in an exquisite suit exited the car and regarded the building.

  He was about fifty years old. His hair was cropped very short against his skull, above intense, dark brown eyes. He wore no hat. Something about the way he moved suggested power.

  "Wait here, Bunji."

  The driver dipped his head in a quick bow.

  " Hai, Nobuyasu-san."

  One of the double doors at the entrance of the house opened and a woman with long brown hair and a pleasant face stepped out onto the porch. Gold bangles on her left wrist reflected in the sunlight as she walked down a set of four broad steps to greet the arrival.

  "Welcome, Nobuyasu-san. I'm Stephanie Willits, Director Harker's deputy. She's looking forward to meeting you. If you would please follow me, I'll take you to her."

  "Thank you."

  Nobuyasu followed Stephanie into the building and found himself in a large foyer. On the right side of the foyer was a library, on the left a room with a pool table. Straight ahead, light poured down through a large circular skylight. They crossed under the skylight. A curving stairway on the right rose to the upper stories. On the wall behind the balcony was an oil painting of George Washington.

  "This way," Stephanie said.

  She led Nobuyasu into the office, where a small woman with intense green eyes sat behind a large desk of polished wood. Her hair was raven-black, streaked with white. Nobuyasu guessed that she was somewhere in her 50s.

  Comfortable couches were positioned in front of the desk to either side. A low coffee table of polished wood was placed between them. A muscular man with a military look sat on one of the couches. Next to him was an attractive woman with reddish blond hair an
d extraordinary violet eyes. They rose as Stephanie and Nobuyasu entered the room. Elizabeth stood and came out from behind her desk.

  "Nobuyasu-san. Thank you for coming. I am Elizabeth Harker. I hope your journey was pleasant?"

  "Most pleasant, thank you."

  "These are my associates, Nick Carter and his wife, Selena."

  "Yokoso, Nobuyasu-san," Selena said.

  He concealed his surprise. Her accent as she welcomed him was flawless. Had his eyes been closed, he would have thought she came from somewhere south of Tokyo. He replied in the same language.

  "Domo."

  "Please, sit down," Harker said.

  Nobuyasu sat opposite Nick. Stephanie went to a computer station set up near Harker's desk.

  Elizabeth returned to her chair. For many years, she'd been director of a covert counter terrorism unit called the Project, working under presidential protection that allowed her to bend the rules. She and her team had been key players in thwarting several attacks against America.

  The Project had been effective. Too effective, a cardinal sin in the cutthroat political battleground of Washington. Harker had made enemies. Not long after a new president was elected, the Project had been disbanded.

  Elizabeth had convinced everyone to keep working with her and formed a private consulting group. Word had gotten around that the expertise of her team was now available on a private basis.

  "Would you care for refreshment, Nobuyasu-san?" Elizabeth said. "Tea, perhaps?"

  "No thank you, Director. I would prefer to talk business."

  "Of course. May I ask how you heard about our group?"

  "An acquaintance of mine at the Public Security Agency recommended you as experienced and discrete."

  The Public Security Intelligence Agency was Japan's equivalent of the CIA. Whoever Nobuyasu's acquaintance was, Elizabeth knew he had to be very high up in the organization. Not many people were aware of Elizabeth's group and its background.

  "I see. Your request for this meeting was rather vague. What exactly is it that you require?"

  "I would like you to find something for me," Nobuyasu said. "Expense is no object."

  "Why have you come to us?"

  "I am aware of your previous work with your government. During that time you recovered several important artifacts that had been lost for centuries."

  "You have excellent sources, Nobuyasu-san. That information is highly classified."

  "I am pleased to see that you do not waste time denying it."

  "What is it you wish us to find?"

  "A sword," Nobuyasu said. "It was turned over as a gesture of good faith to comply with an edict by the occupational forces after the war. It has not been seen since."

  Occupational forces , Nick thought . Not Allied forces or American forces.

  "There were many swords in Japan at the end of the war," Elizabeth said.

  "There is only one sword like this one. It is known as the Honjo Masamune. "

  "Oh, my," Selena said.

  Nobuyasu turned to look at her. "You know of this?"

  "Anyone who has studied martial arts and the ways of the samurai knows of it. It's the most famous sword in Japanese history, with the exception of the Kusanagi-no-Tsurugi , the emperor's sword."

  "You are a student of the history of my country?"

  "No, I am a student of martial arts."

  "Yet you speak our language."

  "I speak many languages, Nobuyasu-san."

  "I think I have come to the right place," Nobuyasu said. "I did not expect someone who is not Japanese to know about one of our national treasures."

  "What can you tell us about the sword?" Elizabeth said.

  "It was a prized possession of the Tokugawa family. After the war, many nobles refused to comply with the edict to turn in their swords. You must understand, it was considered a great insult. For those of us descended from the samurai, a sword is not merely an instrument of war. It is a symbol of our samurai heritage, a treasured family heirloom. However, Ieyasu Tokugawa decided to set an example by complying with the edict. He brought the sword to a local police station, as the edict demanded."

  "And then what happened?"

  "There is a record of the sword being picked up from the police by an American sergeant. It has not been seen since. Many of the swords collected by the Americans were destroyed. However, many were also brought here as souvenirs. It is my hope the sword survived and is located somewhere in America."

  "And you want us to find it," Nick said.

  "That is correct."

  "You realize we cannot guarantee success with a commission of this nature," Elizabeth said.

  "I am aware of that, Director. But your success with other objects thought to be either mythical or lost forever encourages me. I would not be here, if I did not believe that your group offers my best chance of finding the blade."

  "Doesn't the sword belong to the Tokugawas?" Selena asked.

  "The Tokugawa family has relinquished their claim to the sword. If you are successful in locating it, my intention is to donate it to our National Museum. It will take its place with another surviving blade crafted by Masamune. The sword is part of our national heritage and my country has been very good to me. This is a way for me to perform a service to the nation. "

  He took an envelope from inside his jacket.

  "This envelope contains a draft for fifty thousand dollars American as a retainer, as well as contact information. As more funds are required, you need only call the number listed inside. The money will be immediately transferred. The envelope also contains instructions for contacting me if there is progress."

  He laid the envelope on Elizabeth's desk.

  "I appreciate your trust, Nobuyasu-san. However, nothing is undertaken without the full agreement of everyone on the team. You are staying in Washington?"

  "You will find the address and a phone number inside the envelope. I am returning to Japan tomorrow morning."

  "I would like to consult with my colleagues. May I call you later today with our answer?"

  Nobuyasu stood. They all rose.

  "That will be acceptable, Director."

  "I'll see you to the door," Stephanie said.

  TWO

  After Nobuyasu had left, Stephanie said, "Who wants coffee?"

  Selena raised her hand.

  "I'll take a cup," Nick said.

  "Elizabeth?"

  "Please."

  Stephanie went over to a sideboard dominated by a gleaming chrome espresso machine. It was a professional model with two handles, perfect for making four cups of espresso at a time.

  "What do you think?" Elizabeth asked. "Should we take this on?"

  "It seems strange to decide something without Lamont and Ronnie," Selena said.

  "If we need to call them in, I'm sure they'll go along with whatever we decide," Elizabeth said.

  "It's not every day someone walks in and hands you fifty thousand dollars on the off chance you can find a World War II souvenir," Nick said.

  "It's not only a souvenir," Selena said. "Masamune is the greatest Japanese sword smith who ever lived. There are very few of his swords still in existence."

  "What's so special about them?"

  "They're legendary. Masamune lived in the thirteenth and early fourteenth century. He invented a way of forging steel that created swords of great beauty and incredible sharpness. It's said that when one of his blades was placed in a stream, it cut passing leaves in two, but spared fish and other living creatures."

  "You're saying this sword has a mind of its own. Kind of weird, don't you think?"

  "Not if you're Japanese," Selena said. "Masamune holds a unique place in Japanese culture. His swords are almost mystical, part of Japan's cultural soul. Myth and reality blend together when it comes to the samurai. To the Japanese, the sword is a symbol of honor and loyalty, a mark of trust and valor."

  Stephanie came back with a tray and four cups of coffee. She handed them around
and sat down at her computer console.

  "Why is it called the Honjo Masamune?" she asked.

  "All of Masamune's swords have names that show their provenance," Selena said. "The sword Nobuyasu wants us to find is named for a general, Honjo Shigenaga. He defeated an enemy in battle and took the sword. Eventually it ended up in the hands of Tokugawa Ieyasu, the shogun who finally united Japan. That makes it incredibly rare and important. It was Tokugawa's descendent that turned the sword in at the end of the war."

  "How do you know all this?" Nick asked.

  "If you study martial arts long enough, you learn these things."

  "So what do you think?" Elizabeth said. "Should we take this on?"

  "I don't think there's much chance of success," Selena said.

  "Why?"

  "No one has ever been able to identify the soldier who picked up the sword at the police station."

  "Nobuyasu said the sword was signed for. Isn't there a paper trail? Something to identify the man who took it?" Nick asked.

  Stephanie was looking at her computer monitor. "I'm reading an article about the sword right now. The name the Japanese wrote down when the sword was picked up is 'Sergeant Coldy Bimore.' There's no record of anyone by that name in the American army."

  Nick snorted. "What kind of name is Coldy? Nobody's named that. Bimore doesn't sound right, either."

  "The signature is illegible," Stephanie said. "The paper trail's a dead end. Perhaps whoever picked it up wanted to steal it and gave a false name."

  "That doesn't make sense," Elizabeth said. "If we go by what Selena said, only a Japanese would know how important the sword was."

  "An American soldier wouldn't be able to tell one sword from another," Selena said. "In the scabbard they all look more or less the same, except for length. It's not until you draw the sword that you can see the workmanship of the blade. That's what sets Masamune's swords apart."

  "Unless he was put up to it by someone who was Japanese," Elizabeth said. "If that's the case, it's probably still in Japan and we'll never find it."

  "It won't be easy to find it even if it came back here as a souvenir. There must have been hundreds of swords brought back by returning soldiers."

  "More likely thousands," Nick said. "Every Japanese officer had a sword. If I'd been there, I would've wanted one for a souvenir."