“I know that,” replied Da Khlot in a monotone voice. “Let him go and it will be easier on you.”

“Like hell I will!” yelled Jack. “All of you get the fuck out of here! Now! Close the door behind you!”

Da Khlot shook his head so Jack put more pressure on Fukushima’s eye.

“Do what he says!” spluttered Fukushima.

The men quickly filed out of the room as the sound of Sayomi’s crying and babbling became louder.

“Let her go, too, Laura,” said Jack.

Sayomi ran for the door with her bloody hands covering her face.

“Remember,” yelled Laura, “youth, vitality, and speed are no match for wisdom, experience, and treachery!”

Jack, in shock, stared briefly at Laura. Make sure I never piss a woman off about her age.

As soon as the three of them were alone, Jack told Laura to get his phone and call for help.

Laura connected with Rose and yelled, “Help — Jack, behind you!”

Jack spun around and saw he had moved dangerously close to the back wall. Da Khlot’s shadow faded from view on the other side as Jack quickly backed toward the centre of the room.

“Rose, we need help,” yelled Laura. “Tell them we’re in the banquet room. Main level.”

“Leave the phone on, put it on the table, and grab a sword,” said Jack. “Crouch down close to the door. If someone comes in, do what you can to take them down and grab their gun.”

“You are a barbarian,” sputtered Fukushima. “You have no honour.”

“Guess you’re right,” replied Jack.

“You will die!” seethed Fukushima, as his pain was transgressed by rage. “The both of you will die.”

“We all will someday,” replied Jack. “You first, I bet.”

“You are Canadian police officers,” said Fukushima. “You should not even be here.”

“You had Lee murder a Canadian citizen,” replied Jack, “who, for your information, was an honourable man. Gives us plenty of reason.”

“You are here because of him?” replied Fukushima in disbelief. “He was nobody! Why does it matter about him?”

“Nobody?” said Jack harshly. “Do not use that word! He was somebody! Somebody’s son. He was a friend of my wife and was a much better human being than you could ever —-”

The sound of a police siren pierced the air from down the hill, bringing an epiphany of shouts and yelling from outside the banquet room. Shadows from a group of men appeared through the rice-paper walls and doors on the opposite side of the room from where Jack stood hunched over Fukushima.

Da Khlot crouched and waited behind the wall separating him by slightly over an arm’s length from where Jack held Fukushima inside the room. He used his cellphone to whisper an order to his men.

Jack saw the doors slide open a crack and automatically reefed Fukushima backward when he saw a glimpse of a pistol as a man peeked through. Laura crouched to one side, out of sight, holding the samurai sword at the ready.

“Close it!” screamed Jack. “Or fuck-you-shima dies!”

Fukushima felt the two prongs from the fork on the outer corner of his eye socket slide over the last bump of bone as it began to travel inside his eye socket. His command screamed in Japanese caused the doors to slide shut again.

Da Khlot caught a glimmer of Jack’s larger figure draped over Fukushima, but it faded from view again. He could hear the words clearly through the walls as the men argued.

“I want you to know something, Jack Taggart,” said Fukushima. “I gave the command to my men. Whoever fills the honour of killing you will be greatly rewarded. If you do not have the honour to die tonight, you should know that whatever family you have — mother, father, wife, or children — they will be found and take your place.”

“Is that why Lee was so loyal?” asked Jack. “Is that what you call honour and loyalty? You pompous ass! You are not only a disgrace to the Japanese people; you are a disgrace to the human race.”

“Who are you to say that?” replied Fukushima. “A lowly policeman. A servant for the people. You are nobody.”

“I told you not to use that word,” said Jack, angrily.

Da Khlot knew that a bullet in Jack may penetrate through to Fukushima, but he had no such worry about the knife he held in his hand. The only worry was the element of surprise. If Jack would move closer, it would be easy to stab through the rice-paper wall and penetrate the top of the spinal cord, paralyzing Jack before he could react and plunge the fork deep into his master’s brain.

If that opportunity presented itself, he would bust through the wall simultaneously while carrying out the second penetration, plunging the knife into the side of Jack’s neck. He would grab his falling body by the hair with one hand and use his other hand to slash through to the front of Jack’s throat, severing his jugular in an outward motion from behind. Death would be unavoidable and would take place within a few gurgling seconds as he lay on the floor while his brain tried to comprehend.

When the others opened the doors for a peek, Da Khlot almost had that chance. If his men yelled and rattled the doors again, it might give him the opportunity. The police vocally announced their arrival into the main entrance of the building. He had little time.

Da Khlot whispered once more into his cellphone before putting it down. Seconds later, the walls shook from hands slapping and banging on the walls and doors on the far side of the room. Sounds and vibrations made by men running and commands being screamed by the police added to the din.

Da Khlot saw his chance when Jack’s towering shadow came into view, brushing his back against the wall in front of him. He did not give Jack the opportunity to move away. He lunged forward, his knife making a crisp sound as the tip sliced through the rice paper and deep into Jack’s neck.

Da Khot heard the sound of the vertebrae as he twisted the knife before withdrawing it. The head nodded and rolled to one side and the body went limp as Da Khlot smashed through the wall, grabbing Jack by the hair while stabbing deep into the side of his neck and slashing outwards, severing the jugular. His momentum caused all three men to fall to the floor.

Screaming from across the room announced the arrival of a squad of police officers. Da Khlot looked at Jack’s face … awash in blood. It was the first time Da Khlot had truly smiled since he was eleven years old.

He obeyed the police command to drop his knife and stand with his hands in the air. He was not concerned. The Shaman will look after me. Everything would be okay. He is, after all, The Shaman.

It was not until Jack stood up that Da Khlot stepped back in horror. He stared down at The Shaman, who lay gasping and gurgling as his severed jugular sprayed blood onto Da Khlot’s pant legs.

Da Khlot’s brain tried to unscramble the unfathomable. It … it is not possible! The Westerner’s shadow … I saw it. Da Khlot trembled as he stared down at his master, whose twitching lips and one bulging eye expressed a silent terror as he died.

40

It was late the following Friday afternoon when Rose was summoned to Assistant Commissioner Isaac’s office. He waited until she sat comfortably in the chair in front of his desk before asking, “How are Corporal Taggart and Constable Secord doing?”

“Remarkably well, sir, considering the trauma they both went through,” replied Rose. “They took the week off, but both said they would be in on Monday. It seems a little premature to me. Jack also has to schedule some appointments with a cosmetic surgeon in regard to a slice taken out of his nostril.”

“Have they seen the Force psychologist yet?”

“Scheduled for Monday afternoon.”

“He may decide that they’re not ready to return to duty yet.”

Rose smiled to herself and said, “I suspect he will decide whatever Jack wants him to decide. Laura, too, quite likely.”