The Traveler

Lawrence quickly found the mail room and swiped his ID card to get inside. Boxes were stacked against the walls, and surface mail had already been placed in different mail slots. The mail-room employee was probably pushing a cart down the hallway and would return in a few minutes. Lawrence had to find the package and get out of the building as quickly as possible.

When Kennard Nash mentioned the idea of obtaining a talisman sword, Lawrence nodded obediently and promised to come up with a solution. He called the general a few days later and kept his information as vague as possible. The data system said a Harlequin named Sparrow was killed during a confrontation at the Osaka Hotel. There was a chance that the Japanese Brethren had acquired the dead man’s sword.

Kennard Nash said he would contact his friends in Tokyo. Most of them were powerful businessmen who felt that Travelers undermined the stability of Japanese society. Four days later, Lawrence used Nash’s access code to enter the general’s message file. We have received your request. Glad to be helpful. The item requested has been sent to the administrative center in New York.

Stepping around a half wall, Lawrence saw a plastic shipping box in the corner. Japanese characters were on the shipping sticker along with a customs declaration that described the contents as samurai film props for movie premiere. No need to tell the government that they were shipping a thirteenth-century sword, a national treasure created by one of the Jittetsu.

There was a box cutter on the shipping counter and Lawrence used it to slash through the sealing tape and customs stamps. He opened the lid and was disappointed to find a set of fiberglass armor made for a samurai movie. Breastplate. Helmet. Gauntlets. And then, near the bottom of the case, a sword wrapped in brown paper.

Lawrence picked up the weapon and knew it was too heavy to be made of fiberglass. Quickly, he ripped off the paper that covered the sword’s handle and saw that the fittings were burnished gold. His father’s sword. A talisman.

***

BOONE WAS ALWAYS suspicious when a troublesome employee decided not to come into work. Five minutes after his conversation with the staff in London, he sent a member of his security team to Lawrence Takawa’s residence. A surveillance van was already parked across the street from the town house when Boone arrived. He got into the back of the van and found a technician named Dorfman munching on corn chips while he stared at the screen of a thermal imaging device.

“Takawa is still in the house, sir. He called the research center this morning and said he had the flu.”

Boone knelt on the floor of the van and examined the image. Faint lines showed walls and pipes. A bright patch of warmth was in the bedroom.

“That’s the bedroom,” Dorfman said. “And there’s our sick employee. The Protective Link is still active.”

As they watched, the body jumped off the bed and appeared to crawl to the open doorway. It hesitated for a few seconds, then returned to the mattress. During the entire sequence the body was never more than two or three feet off the floor.

Boone kicked open the back of the van and stepped out onto the street. “I think it’s time to meet with Mr. Takawa-or whatever is lying on his bed.”

***

IT TOOK THEM forty-five seconds to break down the front door and ten seconds to enter Lawrence’s bedroom. Puppy biscuits were scattered across the bedspread where a mongrel dog sat chewing on a beef bone. The animal whimpered slightly when Boone came closer. “Good dog,” he murmured. “Good dog.” A plastic sandwich bag was taped to the dog’s collar. Boone pulled the bag open and found a Protective Link device covered with blood.

***

AS LAWRENCE HEADED south on Second Avenue, a raindrop splattered on the windshield of his car. Dark gray clouds covered the sky, and an American flag on a steel pole fluttered wildly. Bad storm coming. He would have to drive carefully. The back of Lawrence’s right hand was covered with a bandage, but the wound still hurt. Trying to ignore the pain, he glanced over his shoulder at the backseat. A day earlier he had purchased a set of golf clubs and a golf bag with an outer traveling case. The sword and scabbard were nestled between the irons and the putter.

Driving his car to the airport was a calculated risk. Lawrence had considered buying a used car that didn’t have a Global Positioning System, but the purchase might be detected by the Tabula security system. The last thing he wanted was a computer inquiry asking him: Why did you purchase another car, Mr. Takawa? What’s wrong with your vehicle leased by the Evergreen Foundation?