Eternal Samurai (16 page)

“One year, Pueblo Border Militia. Before I started my doctorate,” Tatsu answered with a visible show of reluctance.

“Christ on a crutch, why’d would ya volunteer for that?”

“It was my duty,” Tatsu glared at the Irishman, did not feel he had to explain how there was no question about disobeying his grandfather’s wishes.
Ojii-san
said Tatsu needed the training to redeem their family honor. But
Ojii-san
died before revealing the mystery behind his words.

Already feeling his reservations about this young man dissolve with each reply, the Major hid his surprise.

Bana interrupted. “Jaysus, boyo, the PBM? That’s only one of the bloodiest military units on this continent. All them arse-fired-up, isolationist politicians from New Mexico, Texas and Arizona banded together and forming their own army fer one purpose—shoot any
idjit
trying to cross the border without papers. Harsh fekkin’ duty. Heard some soldiers crack up, commit suicide, even—”

“How long were you in?” the Major cut off Bana’s rambling.

“Normal tour, twelve months.” Anticipating more questions, Tatsu steeled himself.

“Engaged in any combat?” The Major’s eyes riveted on Tatsu’s face. If the boy indicated any enjoyment of killing, he would end the interview right then.

“Not much.” The tick at the corner of Tatsu’s mouth gave away the lie. He had seen a lot of death in that brutal year but none by his hand. He licked his lips, craving a cigarette, but even if he had one, he could not imagine asking permission to smoke.

The Major rarely changed his mind, but Tatsu Cobb was exceptional. “Mr. Cobb, if I employ you, your personal agenda must not affect any mission. Understood?” As the Major spoke, he pulled an ashtray, a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of his desk drawer and pushed them across the desk to Tatsu. He noted the gratitude flicker across the young man’s face as he lit up.

Tatsu relaxed with the first deep lungful of nicotine. “
Domo arigatō gozaimasu.
Thank you very much, sir. But Bana was not really clear about what you do. I mean, are you a government agency, law enforcement?”

The derisive laugh bursting from the Englishman surprised Tatsu. Bana, who had been lounging in his seat, snorted and muttered something that sounded like “fekking coppers.”

“Not quite. I founded this operation to provide solutions for maximum-risk situations, primarily involving vampires. We contract with local governments and private clients. Occasionally, the work falls outside the definition of legal.”

“Yeah, but legal or no, we’re the ones who get the job done,” Bana declared.

“As long as vampires confined themselves to the ghetto, feed only from the indentured, they are tolerated. Most Quarantines run somewhat peacefully under that arrangement. All very civilized, what?” A tightness around the Major’s mouth indicated his disapproval of that last social development.

Bana muttered something about, “Arsehole bleedin’ hearts, living with a bloodsucker.” He hunched lower in his seat with a muttered “Sorry Guvnor” following the Major’s sharp look.

The Englishman stepped over to a huge map of Seattle tacked to the wall. He traced an area delineated by a thick red line. “Everything west of the Duwamish to the Sound is the vampire ghetto. Paralleling the river is the Pipe, our red-light district. Many of the bars, brothels, pawnshops, are vampire owned. The Pipe is the only area where vampires and humans mix legally.” The Major returned to his desk and poured another cup of tea, took a sip and grimaced.

“Bloody hell. Mr. Murtagh, please ask Mr. Cooperhayes to bring a fresh pot.”

“Sure, Guv, need a coffee refresher anyway. Want some Cobb?” Tatsu refused. Bana slipped from the room.

“Ten years ago, Ukita Sadomori killed the former Master, abrogated the Quarantine agreement, and eradicated any opposition including all human gangs. Before that, things were fairly peaceful. We now have an epidemic of vampire attacks, There’s also been a dramatic increase in human abductions mainly from the Pipe.”

“So Seattle hired you?” Tatsu interrupted.

“One might say that. The local police force is vastly under-equipped to handle this rise in crime. The country has no military force. And by law, the population is unarmed. Even if a few die-hard souls still have firearms, ammunition is impossible to get. Unless you have the right connections.”

Bana returned with Cooperhayes, who with silent efficiency placed a fresh pot of tea and cream on the desk. The tall, angular man placed a paper in front of the Major before gliding from the room.

The Major glanced down at the sheet. “Mr. Cobb when were you infected by the virus?”

The question jarred Tatsu. “Never,” he stammered.

“This report says otherwise.” Major Blenheim stared at Tatsu for a long moment letting the prolonged silence push against the boy.

What the hell? The cut from the door handle? They had tested his blood. Anger was quickly followed by apprehension. The scars on his throat. He had them since he was ten. Uncle Ray said they came from a dog bite during the time Tatsu’s mind was shut down from grief. But there was that other bite from his first vampire kill.

He took a delaying drag on the cigarette as he recalled when he had hidden in a motel outside Grand Junction while he waited for the puking and shitting to run its course. “Maybe in Colorado. Was sick for a couple of days, nothing serious.”

“Yes, quite.” The Major took a long sip of tea. He set the cup down with deliberate care. “Mr. Cobb, I hire only the best and only those with integrity. There is another quality I require. You must be a Leper.”

“Leper?” The confused look in Tatsu’s face made him appear about twelve years old to the Major.

“In medical terms, vampiral sanguine positive, one who recovers from the virus without turning. Rarely happens, still a medical mystery. People have a pathological fear of V-positives, even more than they fear vampires. Absolutely irrational, but prejudice is always irrational. We are outcasts. Ergo, Leper. You are one according to this DNA report.”

Tatsu shrugged. Perhaps he was a Leper, perhaps not. He did not like the idea.

“From what Bana says, you are a formidable fighter, albeit somewhat unconventional. You have a code of honor. In addition, you are a Leper.” A slight smile creased the corners of the Major’s thin lips. “On your honor, will you set aside your personal concerns while working for this company?”

“
Hai, hai
. I promise.” Tatsu nodded his agreement and his thanks.

“Any concerns about taking Cobb as your new partner, Mr. Murtagh?”

“Fuck no, guvnor.”

“Very well, Mr. Cobb, you will be issued tactical gear and communications equipment, full access to our files and the DataNet, such as it is. Most of the team prefers small arms, like Mr. Murtagh’s Beretta. We have a couple of exceptions, but these men are no less effective. You can of course, use your own weapons. Although for a high-risk operation, I would prefer you carry a firearm. Will you have a problem with that?”

Tatsu balked at the idea of using a gun. He detested them, had seen the horrible results of quick-tempered idiots who fired first and never bothered with the questions. But then the words of Grandfather Shiniichiro slid into his ear, “
Koketsu ni irazunba koji wo ezu.”
Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Tatsu bowed. “
Wakatta
, but I decide if and when I carry a gun.”

“Fair enough. I will allow some accommodation for that.”

Two hours and a tour of the vast facility later, Tatsu signed the papers that made him a member of the Leper Colony.

“You will meet the rest of the team tomorrow night at sixteen hundred hours. Oh, by the way, Mr. Cobb, I need not remind you of your agreement never to enter Tendai without authorization,” the Major said.

“
Hai, wakarimashita
,” Tatsu replied, saddened that eventually he’d break that promise.

Bana slapped him on the back. “Come on partner, let me treat you to a celebration.”

The Irishman’s idea of a celebration was great slabs of genuine beef served almost raw in a pool of juice alongside mountains of fried potatoes. He surprised Tatsu by ordering coffee instead of a beer. “I’m too old to get pissed every night. ’Sides the team don’t like it much. Anyway, welcome to the Leper Colony, boyo.” He clinked his coffee mug against Tatsu’s water glass. “What’s up? Havin’ second thoughts about rollin’ with us? Hell, laddie, look on the bright side. You get paid fer doing what you did fer free. Plus, the Colony provides us with all the readies,” he laughed.

“
Iie
, no. I have no doubts. I’m impressed. It looks like the place has everything you’d ever need for a war.
Jigoku!
Hell, you even make your own ammunition.”

“Yeah, we got it all. As long as it remains a secret from the bloodsuckers.” Bana stabbed a piece of meat, shoveled it into his mouth, the juice dripping down his chin.

“So, how long have you been with the company?”

“Goin’ on twelve years. I used to be one of New York’s finest, was a fekkin’ hero. Got medals ta prove it. Then got the virus.”

“When?”

“Shite, boyo, nineteen years ago. ’Cept I didn’t turn. Really bollocked my life. The fekking bastards down at One PPD gave me my walking papers. Said I was dangerous, too
unpredictable
. No pension, no Bob’s-your-arse fer a great job. Just booted. Wankers!” He speared another chunk of dripping steak and crammed it between his teeth. Around the mouthful of meat he continued, “What was I gonna do, become a night watchman guarding some fat cat’s warehouse? Sod that. So, I did what any red-blooded Irishman would do, went home and offered my services in aid of the Troubles. Five years watchin’ me own kind slaughter each other got old, so I came back here. Major found me, and here I be, an arse-kicking Leper.” He finished his narrative with a wave of his bloody fork.

“Leper, huh? I’m still not sure I am one.”

“Sorry boyo, yer blood says you are. You met our medic, Doc Wyckes. He’s been researching this Leper thing fer years. He explained some of the scientific mumbo jumbo one time. Lost me. He makes us sound like we’re more vampire than human. What I do know is we can turn without warning. People don’t trust us. On the plus side, we can see in the dark, we’re stronger and faster than the average bloke, don’t catch diseases, sun don’t turn us to charcoal. But don’t get to live fer centuries. Seems that is the Universe’s fekkin’ joke, bloodsuckers get hundreds of years longer than us mortal men.”

“Telomerase enzymes.”

“Huh?”

“It is an enzyme on a branch of the DNA helix. Regulates aging in living things.”

“Still don’t follow ya, boyo,” Bana said shaking his head. “Where do you come up with that shit?”

“Just means vampire’s DNA lets them live longer than us. That longevity is why they lose pigmentation in their skin, hair, eyes, you know.” Tatsu shrugged and picked up his drink. “Immaterial, they’re an aberrant species.” He forced away the memory of the feel of the lips of one
aberrant species
, Saito Arisada.

“Shite, boyo, whatever you call them, you’re gonna earn your keep killing ‘em. Course it’d be the dog’s bullocks if we had their thrall, but we don’t. Immune to it. Thank the Holy Mother of God. And at least our insides don’t burn up like theirs do in the sunlight. Another one of Nature’s mysteries.”

“No real mystery. Vampire virus is a mutated form of porphyria, a rare genetic disorder. Photosensitivity is so acute, they combust internally when exposed to sunlight.”

“Bugger me. Seems someone explained that one time also, but I didn’t really listen. On the plus side, Lepers can sure fuck like bloodsuckers,” Bana winked. “I got the prick of teenager. Go fer hours, got almost instant recovery time. Me willie gets sore drilling minge four, five times in a night. Never seem ta run out of spunk. Take my suggestion, boyo. Get yerself a girlfriend. Shite, get three or four. You’re willie will thank you fer it.”

Tatsu’s mouth dropped open at the man’s crude advice. Bana was right. Tatsu’s hand and cock said
konnichiwa
to each other almost daily. He put it down to yearning for his one and only lover, ex-lover really. Sage was gone forever. But try telling that to his prick and his heart. And now this insane complication in the form of one flame-haired, gorgeous vampire who Tatsu had not only kissed but now haunted Tatsu’s dreams.

Abruptly, Tatsu’s defenses reared up. It was clear Bana had no clue about Tatsu’s sexual preference. And he dared not reveal his contact with Arisada. “Do you think we will see action tomorrow?” He changed the subject.

“See action every night, boyo. Jist make sure you keep yer cell and combat gear handy at all times, got me?”

During the tour of the Colony, Bana had given Tatsu two sets of combat wear called dee-skin made from a flexible polyceramic. “These will keep yer inside where they belong,” the Irishman grinned.

Tatsu had marveled at the clothing’s light weight yet the fabric, which resembled chainmail, moved like silk over his body. The new shirt even eased the chaffing of his sword harness.

“This here’s called a dog collar. Range ain’t fer shit, half a click maybe. But it’ll keep you in touch with the rest o’ yer teammates ’specially me, understand?” Bana had tossed him the communications unit buried inside a dee-skin neck choker.

Bana’s next comment jerked Tatsu to the present. “Okay, partner, gotta go. See ya at the briefing. And tomorrow night, you watch yer arse at all times. Better yet, watch my arse.”

Tatsu allowed a quick grin. Bana had no clue how into “arse watching” he could be.

Bana slurped the last of his coffee as he stood up. “Ya gonna need better digs than that crappy closet. I know the owner of the apartment over that dojo. I’ll put in a good word fer ya.”

“
Domo arigatō
,” Tatsu flashed a quick smile, pleased with the idea of staying close to the dojo. When practicing
shinkendo
, he always entered an altered state where his heart did not ache with regret and all doubt vanished. Who was he kidding? He wanted use of that dojo on the slight chance Arisada showed up again.

Bana paid the tab and left, declaring he was off to “shag” his girlfriend. Reiterated Tatsu needed to find a “bit o’ minge” for himself. Tatsu pulled on his jacket and stepped out into the rain. Bana was right. Tatsu hungered for someone in his bed. But he had no time for romance. Hell, he had no time for a quickie up against a wall with some hot man’s mouth around his dick. Unbidden, his groin quivered from the memory of Arisada’s kiss.