Warrior Spirit. Alex Archer

she said finally.

      Ken smiled. “I suppose so.”

      She looked at him, her eyes full of suspicion. “I’ve been in a lot of bad situations. Had people shoot at me. Been almost run over a number of times. Mountain climbing near misses.”

      “Perhaps I should be careful around you,” Ken said, grinning. “If you’re in the business of attracting danger, I mean.”

      Annja seemed to ignore him. “I’ve never seen anyone handle themselves like you just did.”

      “I’m nothing special,” Ken said.

      He could feel Annja’s eyes on him, gauging and trying to determine if he was being falsely modest. The intense scrutiny lasted the better part of a minute. Ken felt himself shift under her gaze. She was certainly more intense than she had seemed on the television show he’d seen.

      He finally took a second to look her deep in the eyes. “I’m not joking. My skills are nowhere near what they could be. I’ve been somewhat lazy in recent months.”

      Annja shook her head. “They certainly seemed more than adequate to get you out of trouble back at the restaurant.”

      He slid the Mercedes out in traffic. “Maybe. But I’d be a fool to grow complacent and believe they’d get me out of every situation.”

      “Why is that?”

      Ken shrugged. “I tend to think that’s what separates a true warrior from a wanna-be. A warrior will never stop learning. They’ll quest ever on in search of perfection of technique even while knowing that perfection can never be attained.”

      “So it’s the pursuit of perfection that defines rather than the goal?”

      “Exactly.” Ken braked at a traffic light. The night sky glowed with a thousand points of neon braced against the Tokyo superscrapers. Flashes of light, music and the sounds of traffic and people filled his ears.

      “You’re a ninja,” Annja said quietly.

      Ken shrugged. “I’d prefer to say I study ninjitsu . Ninja, you know it’s got that certain stigma attached to it.”

      Annja shifted in her seat, adjusting the seat belt as she did so. “I’ve got a question. You told me that the Yumegakure-ryu was almost extinct.”

      “That’s right.”

      “Well, if you’re the last one left, how did you learn what you know—what I’m assuming is ninjitsu ?”

      “It’s a fair question,” Ken said. “The truth is, there are other ninjitsu ryuha still in existence. Very few. But there are some. And the man I study with is the grandmaster of three of the only remaining systems to date.”

      “He’s here in Tokyo?”

      “No. Outside of Tokyo, actually. There’s a small industrial town to the northwest called Chiba-ken. He teaches there.”

      Ken could feel Annja’s excitement rise a notch. It felt as if the car had filled with electricity. Annja looked at him, her eyes widening. Ken felt himself drawn into them, as if he could get lost in the secrets they contained. He shook himself slightly, trying to keep himself composed.

      Annja touched him on the arm. “I’d like to meet this man.”

      Ken had known she would. He had studied enough about Annja to know that she would never turn down the chance to learn something new or at least explore something that supposedly didn’t exist anymore.

      “He teaches tomorrow night.” He smiled. “If you like, we can go to his class then.”

      Annja leaned back in her seat and nodded. “So, I’ll meet the last grandmaster of ninjitsu . Cool.”

      Ken chuckled. “Well, others claim they are, in fact, also grandmasters, but it’s mostly false.”

      “How so?” Annja asked.

      “The man you’ll meet tomorrow night is the only one recognized by the Japanese government as being legitimate. He’s been labeled a national living treasure, as well, since he helps maintain a piece of Japan’s past and its traditions—even one as controversial as ninjitsu .”

      Annja grinned. “I’ve recovered a lot of treasures before. I don’t think I’ve ever met a living treasure, though.”

      “He’ll like you.”

      “How do you know?”

      Ken looked at her. “Because you’re beautiful. And he happens to love beautiful women.”

      Annja frowned. “Give me a break.”

      The light finally changed and Ken pressed the accelerator. “I didn’t mean to upset you with that comment.”

      Annja shrugged. “Sorry. It’s just I get tired of hearing that people either like or dislike based entirely on whether a person is attractive or not.”

      “I meant it only as a compliment.”

      “I know.” Annja ran a hand through her hair. “Sometimes I think I hear it too often.”

      “Most people, they wouldn’t mind hearing that said about them,” Ken said.

      Annja shook her head. “I don’t hear it said about me often. Mostly I hear it said about other women.”

      Ken smiled. “That other anchor on Chasing History’s

       Monsters . What was her name? The one with the sexy wardrobe malfunction.”

      “Kristie Chatham.” Annja sighed. “She and I have differing views on how best to present a story to our audience.”

      Ken made a left turn, checking his rearview mirror. He didn’t see anything there that concerned him. “In her defense, there’s nothing wrong with being beautiful.”

      “But when it obscures the topic at hand, when the audience downloads a video to see a top pop off rather than the story, then that’s a problem. At least it is in my book. I think I’m in the minority of opinion, though,” Annja said.

      Ken laughed. “Probably so. But I find your journalistic integrity refreshing.”

      “Yeah?”

      Ken nodded. “Yes. I can assure you there will be no time for the wearing of bikini tops on this trip to find the artifact. I think, therefore, you are reasonably safe.”

      “Great.”

      Ken wheeled the Mercedes down another side street. “We’re almost there.”

      “Almost where?” Annja glanced out the window. Ken could see she had no idea where they were. He knew trying to gauge location at night in a foreign city was a daunting task.

      “Your hotel, of course.”

      Annja frowned again. “You know where I’m staying?”

      “Of course.”

      She turned and Ken could see her hands bunched up, almost as if she thought he might attack her. He held up his hands for a brief moment, risking taking them off the steering wheel for effect.

      “I’m not stalking you, Annja. If that’s what you’re thinking.”

      “I might be.” She kept her hands bunched up.

      “You’re cautious. I can certainly appreciate that. I try to be that way myself. Especially when I travel.”

      “So you understand why I’m about two seconds away from getting out of this car and never seeing you again.”

      Ken pulled over to the side of the road and unlocked the doors. “You’re more than welcome to leave. Although honestly, I hope you don’t.”

      She looked at the door and then back at Ken. “Why do you know where I’m staying?”