Steam ghosts danced from iron street grates in the darkness of the Tokyo night. Dim lights from a distant street reached into the depths of the narrow alleyway and backlit the steam, giving life to the ghosts.
Lt. Colonel Michael Davis heard a snicking chunk behind him, turned just in time to see glints off a sword reach out of the impenetrable pre-dawn shadows and cleanly slice Anthony Mills' head from his shoulders.
"Oh, man!" Davis said, syllables slurred into a single word. He wobbled in place on sake-stunned knees and squinted into the gloom. The dark little alleyway in the Kabukicho district left little to see and much to the imagination.
"I shou'nev'drunk th'las'un," Davis slurred as he swayed unsteadily. The fly of his pants was still half-zipped from their visit to the nopan kissa, the no-panties coffee shop they had stumbled into looking for directions. "You can'b'lef whad'I'm hal--, halut--, halucin--, seein'."
The hollow-melon thunks of Mills' head hitting the cobbles and the geyser of blood from his severed carotid arteries sobered the Army doctor. The swift decapitation was not an alcohol hallucination. Mills' body slumped; reflexively, Davis stepped forward to catch him and was rewarded by a face full of blood still forcefully being expelled from the active, but lifeless body.
"Dear God," Davis said clearly as he unsteadily wrestled the body of his friend gently down to the wet cobbles and laid it next to the head. Still fighting the alcohol for clear thought, Davis's mind fought to bring order to the nightmare. For a ridiculous instant, Davis worried about the concussion the head must have suffered. "Oh, God. Oh, God."
"Your god can't help you now," said a woman's voice from the blanket of darkness.
"Wha'?" Davis wiped at the blood in his eyes and scanned the night. He saw the glint of metal first, reflecting the faint light from the distant thoroughfare. Then two stocky almost identical men carrying swords and dressed incongruously in coats and ties stepped from the darkest shadows. Behind them, he saw blond hair dimly backlit like the steam, below it an athletically lean woman with large breasts.
"Do not call for help," said one of the men. "Or you will swiftly join your friend here."
Looking up at the men, Davis thought one looked vaguely familiar. A nearby drinker at one of the restaurants? In the back of his mind, a small disquieting voice said that it was not a good sign that they had allowed him to see their faces.
While one of the men stood directly in front of Davis, the second circled around the physician. Instants later, Davis felt a cold point of metal at the back of his neck; it burned as if frozen.
"Do not move," said the man in front of him. Davis started to nod, thought better of it. "Now tell me who is your source, your leak as you Americans say."
Davis's thoughts raced. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said finally. The man in front nodded slightly; an instant later, Davis felt the back of his neck burn, a tickle of blood dripping down his neck.
"You do not play games with us, doctor," said the man in front as he waved his blade just millimeters from Davis's face. "Our people saw you at the hospital prying into matters that do not concern you. You have learned of Tsushima from some source and we will know who it is."
"I don't know about any Tsushima," Davis insisted. "We were just trying to help, to treat the sick. Ouch!" The blade penetrated more deeply.
"Please don't think we are such fools," the man said. "We know it is no accident that every other military doctor in the U.S. Forces was restricted to base. We cannot accept that you just volunteered to help." The man now placed the tip of his sword at the base of Davis's right eye.
"Unless you tell us exactly what we want to know, you will lose first one eye, then the other."
Davis closed his eyes. "I don't know. I don't know what you're talking about." The smell of blood was hot, metallic, in the narrow alley.
"You had better know," the first man said. "And know quickly."
"Tsushima," Davis managed to croak after a long moment. "Tsushima Straits...1905...Japanese defeated Russian fleet...made them a world power--"
Davis screamed when the sword cleaned
out his right eye socket.