Nina examined it: a sword, the white blade long and notched in places with the scars of battle. “I’m afraid not. What is it?”
He looked disappointed, apparently expecting her to be more impressed. “This is Kusanagi-no-Tsurugi, the sacred sword of the great warrior Yamato Takeru. It is one of the three Imperial Regalia of Japan.”
The sword’s name dredged up a vague memory from her childhood, when her parents had taught her the legends of other countries. “Kusanagi … that’s the Japanese equivalent of Excalibur, isn’t it? I thought it was kept in a temple.”
“The Atsuta Shrine in Nagoya, yes. That is what the priests there claim. It is good for business.” A brief, grunting laugh. “But I have owned it for more than thirty years.”
“If it’s part of the Imperial Regalia, doesn’t it really belong to the emperor?”
Takashi struggled to conceal his irritation. “A few politicians have suggested that. But they are now former politicians.” He moved on, keen to change the subject. “Here, Dr. Wilde,” he said, standing before one particular display case. “Here is what you have come to see.”
Nina gazed at the objects within. They seemed unremarkable: crude figures, primitive carvings made from an unusual purple stone. One had been bisected vertically, the left and right halves put back together and held in place by thin elastic bands. Compared with the treasures around them, they appeared all but worthless.
She knew that was far from the case, however. They were conductors of earth energy, which in certain hands—her hands—produced extraordinary effects. When separated, each statue glowed, brighter bands of light pointing in the direction of its two companions. When all three were brought together …
That was the main reason she had come to Japan. To find out. She had never had the chance to complete the set before they were stolen by Stikes.
Now, that chance had come.
SEVEN
Dressed in a cheap suit from Hong Kong, Eddie entered the Takashi building.
Scarber had provided the information he sought. Stikes was in the building right now, meeting the company’s boss on the fiftieth floor. The first obstacle he would have to overcome was getting up there. The penthouse—apparently the guy lived right above his headquarters, which Eddie supposed was one way to cut down on commuting—was only serviced by a single elevator, which was permanently guarded. He could see two uniformed men standing at a set of doors away from the other elevators, and guessed they were backed up by electronic surveillance.
But that wasn’t the elevator he would be taking. Scarber had also given him the name of a contact within the company who could get him up to the thirtieth floor. That left another twenty, but one step at a time …
Feigning casualness, he strolled to the reception desk. “Hi, I’m here to see—whoa!” He flinched as he realized he was talking to some sort of mechanical mannequin rather than a young woman, and looked around to see if he was being secretly filmed for some elaborate practical joke. “What’s this, Realdoll HQ?”
The robot’s response was to bow its head, then say, “My apologies, sir. I did not know you spoke English. May I take your name, please?”
“Ed—er, Barney Phelps,” he stuttered, thrown by the disconcerting encounter.
“I’m sorry, I did not hear you correctly,” said the robot apologetically. “Could you repeat that, please?”
“Barney Phelps,” he said again. “Look, no offense, but I’d rather talk to a real person. Wait,” he added, “why am I apologizing to a fembot?”
A lifeless smile spread across the robot’s face. “Thank you, you are expected. Mr. Jiro is waiting for you. If you will please take your visitor’s pass and wear it at all times while you are in the building?” The machine indicated a slot in the desktop. Eddie hesitantly took the pass that slid out and attached it to his lapel. “Please go to elevator number twelve and exit on the thirtieth floor. Have a nice day.”
“I might, if this wasn’t fucking Westworld,” Eddie muttered as he headed for the elevators. “Okay, number twelve …”
He was the only person waiting; at this time of day, Takashi employees were just starting to leave for the evening. Once the elevator had disgorged its occupants, he entered and rose up through the building alone. The doors opened, and he stepped out into a small lobby area. Another of the unsettling robot receptionists was waiting at a little desk, but to his relief an actual human being came to meet him