Chapter 9

As a wise man once said, all things must pass. And, in our particular case, the corollary would be: all ventilation shafts must eventually lead outside. I give the shaft cover a few solid kicks, and it finally gives. Glancing down, I notice that it's about a fifteen foot drop from the shaft opening to the ground below. Not ideal, but not bad.

I slide out of the shaft head first, leaning forward, flipping over a bit mid-drop, and I manage to land flat on my back, so that the impact is spread over as large an area as possible. Even so, the breath's knocked right out of my lungs. A moment later Hiroko lands right next to me, executing a flawless front-roll to end up standing, erect and nearly unruffled.

From my position on the ground, I glare up at her. I'd forgotten how annoying ninjas could be.

Hiroko offers me a hand, which I accept. After we're both on our feet, she reaches up and removes a small black pearl earring from her left ear. She fiddles with its backing for a moment and seems pleased when the pearl begins pulsing red. The pulsating light only lasts a few seconds, however. Once it stops, she puts the earring back in.

When she glances up, she catches me staring at her. "It's a GPS-based homing beacon," she explains, "so our transport will be able to locate us. It will be at least three hours before they arrive, however."

Distractedly I nod. Though that's one less thing to worry about, we still need an escape plan. This alleyway won't stay safe for much longer.

"You there! Freeze!"

Well. Damn.

We run.

As gunshots ring out—far too loud, far too close—we duck around the building's corner and keep on sprinting down the alleyway. Unsurprisingly, Hiroko is a few steps in front of me and, left without a choice, I follow where she leads. She veers to the left, heading down a narrow side alley. Then after another left, she cuts hard to the right, leaping nimbly over a low wrought-iron gate.

Behind us I can hear the guard, farther away than before but still hot in pursuit, still shouting at us to stop.

Hiroko dodges around another corner and, as I follow 'round the bend, I almost crash right into her.

"The hell?"

She's standing perfectly still, breathing hard from exertion. "Need. A place." She swallows. "To hide."

Nodding, I glance around us. There isn't much for options, unfortunately, but beggars can't be choosers. Then I see it. There. Not ideal—but, then again, none of this is. It'll do.

"C'mon," I snap, grabbing Hiroko by the arm and dragging her after me. We dive in between two nearby dumpsters. Keeping low to the pavement, tucked back into the protective embrace of shadows, we watch and we wait.

The security guard staggers to a dead halt, not twenty feet away, when he rounds the corner.

I can see him from between the dumpsters, but I don't think he can see us. Not quite yet. Slowly lifting his gun, the guard yells for us to come out with our hands up and, despite the seriousness of the current predicament, I have to bite back a chuckle. That's so cliché. This is ridiculous.

All of this is ridiculous. Stockman's doomsday device. Donatello's corporate career. Me, hiding behind a freakin' dumpster. Absolutely ridiculous and, yet, here I am. Way to go, O'Neil. Way to go.

Beside me Hiroko crouches down, her body positively humming with held-back power, and after throwing a wary glance my way, she prepares to lunge. The guard, meanwhile, takes a step in our direction. Then another. I still can't tell whether he's spotted us.

Another step. The guard's close now. He's squinting at the dumpsters thoughtfully, and goddammit, he's close enough that I can tell he's squinting. Just as he begins to cock his gun, there's a flash through the air—the flash of steel, my mind registers, almost automatically—and the guard drops to his knees. As the gun slips harmlessly from his grip, he slumps to the ground.

Standing behind his now lifeless body is an old woman. In her right hand she holds a bloodied katana.

The woman is all short gray hair, and thin wiry frame, and hardened eyes glittering huge in a wrinkled face. Faintly she smiles. "I apologize, Hiroko, for not arriving sooner. I was regrettably detained in traffic."

I gasp. It's her. Though she looks much older and very different, her voice hasn't changed one bit. Cautiously Hiroko stands and, after a moment's hesitation, steps out from the shadows. But I don't follow after. My arms and legs feel numb, and I don't know whether it's from the sudden loss of adrenaline or from the shock of seeing a dead woman. Or both, perhaps.

Finally, jumping up before I lose my nerve, I too venture from the shadows into the light. "You look good, Karai," I hear myself say, in an inexplicably calm voice. "I mean, good for a woman who's been dead for fifteen years."

Karai frowns briefly in my direction before addressing Hiroko. "I did not realize you would be bringing … company."

I glare. If she hadn't just saved my life, I would kill her where she stands—or, more likely, die trying.

Glancing back at me, seeming a bit nervous, Hiroko clears her throat. "We are very short on time, I'm afraid. We must leave. I will explain on the way."

Karai tilts her head, considering, then nods. Kneeling, she lovingly wipes the blood from her blade on the guard's uniform. Then she sheathes the sword and points towards the end of the alley, where there's a parked limo, rear door open wide and invitingly.

As soon as we're safely nestled in the limo's backseat, Karai instructs our driver to head for National Airport. Only then does Hiroko begin the story—our story. I just let her talk. It's too much. All I can do is sit back against the plush limo seats. Resting my head against the window, I sit and I think.

Hiroko, by the time we reach the airport, has filled Karai in on most of what's happened over the course of the last two days. The entire car ride Karai has sat attentively. Silently. When the driver opens the door for us, no one moves an inch.

At last Karai breaks the wordless stand-off. "I will accompany you to New York."

"No way, Karai." My head snaps up. "You killed them. Killed my family. You aren't going anywhere."

She turns and regards me with solemn eyes. "I was merely repaying the favor," she replies, without a trace of humor or irony. "But that is neither here nor there, Ms. O'Neil. I know the Saki building very well. My services will prove valuable."

I set my jaw. Hiroko knows the building, too, and I'm not exactly a stranger myself. Karai is wrong. Dead wrong. We need Karai helping us like I need a shuriken through my brain. But just as I'm about to argue the point further, I feel fingers brush against my arm, and I shift my glance over.

"What Karai says is true." Hiroko looks pleadingly into my eyes. She drops her voice to a soft purr. "April. April, please."

Biting my lip, I feel myself relent and my shoulders relax. I don't trust Karai. But I do trust Hiroko. There's something in her eyes, I think, something indefinable that makes me trust her. I give Hiroko a short nod.

We exit the limo, and as soon as we do, I see that we've driven directly onto the runway. Less than twenty yards away is a black helicopter waiting for us. Its blades are already whirring, beating angrily against the orange dusk. Hiroko and I trail after Karai as she leads the way to the 'copter.

As the helicopter takes off, Karai studies me with frank skepticism while Hiroko looks uneasily out the window. I sigh involuntarily. Then, after we've reached a safe altitude, Karai says something to our pilot—I can't hear what she says, exactly, over the thunder of the 'copter—but apparently the pilot hears, and he turns around. He's a man with a goatee and red hair just beginning to gray at the temples. Unlike with Karai, I recognize the man instantly.

"I'll be damned." Despite myself, I feel a smile stretch across my face. "Dr. Chaplin."

He returns my smile with one of his own, wide and breezy and still youthful. "April O'Neil! Long time, no see. Sorry it took us a while to get to you."

Hiroko raises an eyebrow. "I was actually expecting you to take much longer," she says, her eyes sparkling with quiet laughter. "I thought you lived in Nebraska?"

Suddenly I realize why I trust those eyes so much. They are the exact same shade of chocolate brown as Donatello's

Chaplin's smile, impossibly, grows even wider. "Oh, we still do live in Nebraska. We're just staying in D.C. for the weekend, because there's this big technology conference at Georgetown—"

I frown and hold up a hand. "Hold on a second, here. Nebraska? That Nebraska?"

"It is a long story." Karai glances at Chaplin, with just a hint of trepidation in her voice. "A long, boring, completely unnecessary story."

"Oh, it's not that long a story." Chaplin swivels back around, presumably so as to better pilot the helicopter, while continuing cheerfully, "I've lived there for a long time now, ever since I was invited to do research and teach biochemistry at the University of Nebraska. That's where I was when Mistress Karai tracked me down about five years ago."

Meanwhile, Karai sighs. "I've told him, time and again, that no one wants to hear this story." She shakes her head ruefully. "Not to mention that I'm no longer a mistress of anything …"

But Chaplin remains undeterred. "Karai has stayed in Nebraska ever since. Because we're in love."

Hiroko and I both gape at the former leader of the Foot clan, and in return she favors us with a scowl. "I have stayed in Nebraska," she retorts, "because I have grown fond of American football. It is a sport worthy of a ninja."

"The Cornhuskers have been having a good season," admits Chaplin good-naturedly.

I turn to Hiroko just as she turns to me. We blink at each other, in perfect silence, for several long moments. And then we do the only thing we can logically do at this point. We burst out laughing.

---

Author's Notes: It's been forever since I updated this, but the story is not forgotten, I promise. Real life—in the form of final exams, etc.—intervened, however. But the rest of the story has already been outlined, and this will be finished up sooner or later, hopefully sooner.

And in case you're wondering, "Um, why Nebraska, DB?" … it's purely because (as a former Nebraskan myself) I thought it would be amusing for a semi-retired ninja and mad scientist to live there. I freely admit this concept is probably only funny to me, but I'm okay with that. Sometimes you gotta write for yourself, and darn it, I'm making Karai live in Nebraska. Go, Huskers. Hee.