“Come on!”
They ran. On their way down the hall, Sumida caught up with them. He must have heard what happened.
“Shindo! Princess, what are you—”
Sorry, Sumida, thought Shindo, as she leapt up and dropped her elbow on his temple. His eyes rolled back as he blacked out and crumbled to the floor. The rain must have masked their voices. None of the other white shirts had shown up yet.
No, that wasn’t it. Shindo looked at Shoko. Of course. Naiki had prohibited the junior staff from entering the main house so he could violate his daughter.
“Where are we going?” Shoko whispered.
“Just follow me.”
If they cut through the courtyard and went into the garage complex from the rear, they could reach the car with minimal exposure. Shindo looked at Shoko’s bare feet, thought again, and tossed her over her shoulder.
“Bear with me.”
Walking on the gravel in her socks, careful not to make a sound, she got them to the back door of the garage and went inside. She knew the Civic best, but for the extra horsepower, they might take one of the foreign models or a sports car. Once they were cruising, they could decide where to go. Where to escape. Where to?
“Yoriko? What are you doing out here?”
Yanagi stood beside his black Ford Thunderbird, the hood speckled with rain.
He looked genuinely surprised.
“Don’t tell me you . . .”
He looked at Shoko, slung over her shoulder, then at Shindo’s bloody hands.
“Yanagi . . .”
Shindo lowered Shoko to her feet and cleared her throat. For a moment, her head scrambled for excuses. Nothing came.
Out of options, she braced herself and took position.
Looks like she’d have to fight her way out.
“Wait, seriously?” Yanagi asked.
“Do I look like I’m kidding?”
Up against Yanagi, she would have had her hands full, even if both arms were fine. This might just be the end. She was ready to die fighting.
Yanagi’s face changed.
“
!”4
He threw his jacket on the floor and took position.
“Looks like I was wrong about you all along,” Yanagi said.
If they came to grips, it was over. Yanagi could outreach her, and that meant he could outpunch her. Unless she stopped him with a single blow, she was dead.
What she had on him was weight. With a bit more space, she could have used a flying kick, but the garage space was too cramped for a running start.
Yanagi made the first move. She would’ve guessed he would use judo, but no, he fired off a kick. His patent-leather shoe just missed her cheek.
“Didn’t know you knew karate,” Shindo said.
“Taekwondo. Watch and learn.”
Nimble on his feet and grinning, Yanagi unleashed yet another kick. She blocked it with her right arm, tried to grab his leg, but he was too fast, moving off the rebound into a low kick to the shins.
“What’s wrong, holding back?”
Yanagi scowled and grabbed her by the lapels of her jacket. Her feet lifted off the ground. Just before he threw her down, however, she hopped up and locked her legs around his waist. As he stumbled to regain his balance, Shindo head-butted him between the eyes.
Gah!
Yanagi nearly lost his footing and let go. Shindo jumped down and gave him a stern kick to the solar plexus. Yanagi flew back and landed on the front hood of the Ford, but stood right up again and pulled the tanto, scabbard and all, from his waistband.
“You’ll be the first woman I use this on.”
“And? Is that supposed to scare me?”
She pulled the one remaining ballpoint from her left pocket and switched it over to her right hand, poised just below her jaw.
Yanagi swung his short sword.
