Magic Bus Hospital had been left out of Kritiker's civil war. It was the safest and most comfortable place in Japan for someone in Crawford's condition. Schuldig had bought a good print of Waterhouse's Consulting the Oracle, arranged for classical music to be played regularly, and put in a standing order at the Koneko.
He sat beside Crawford's bed, and spoke as if the man could hear him. He knew quite well he didn't.
"So I'm pretty sure you were dealing straight with me. But if I let them take you off that happy stuff drip, and revive you...I know you. Ruthlessness is your weakness. You didn't trust Silvia enough to tell her we were working for our freedom. Now she knows, you'll shoot her to be on the safe side. I had to choose between a telekinetic and a precog. I think we'll need the telek more. Pity. I think you'd have enjoyed the respect Silvia and I are getting, as we try to prepare Kritiker for Esset's attack.
"When you wake up, it'll all be over, one way or the other. I think you'll wake up a free man."
Birman winced. Possibly it was the noisy construction equipment. This part of the beach hadn't seen anything like it since the first ice cream concession. "Couldn't you have called in a Christian Church? They're the people used to dealing with this sort of thing."
Sumiko said meditatively, "I did think of it. But Christians banish their devils by invoking a stronger power. And it needs just a little slant, a little twist, to turn a god into a formidable devil."
"Still," said Birman, disconsolately. "Holding the dedication ceremony at midwinter is a rush. It's going to be high profile." 'High profile' is bad language to a Kritiker agent.
"There might even be a television camera. If I am wrong twice, and there is a demon, and it does get through, there will be footage to warn everyone as quickly as possible." Sumiko brightened. "And the press will be seated right against those trees. It might even do some good."
Birman managed to hide her smile. Fujimiyas were serious people, and she wasn't quite sure Sumiko would take it the right way.
Yohji couldn't help wrinkling his nose at himself. He made a very convincing street person. At least nobody would penetrate his disguise. Nobody would come near enough.
A light, young soprano said, "Kudoh-san?"
He wondered whether to deny everything, but he was a married man. He looked up into the worried face of a very young woman. "I'm sorry, miss?"
"Kiyomi Yamamoto?" She blushed a bit. "I used to hang around the shop. Well, you, actually. I've left school, now. I've just got engaged." Proudly she showed him the ring.
"He's a lucky guy!"
"I'm lucky, too! Would you like to come and have lunch with us?" At Yohji's incredulous look down his street disguise, she added, "He'll be glad to meet a friend from my old days."
"That's very kind of you." Yohji was touched. He also hoped frantically he could rid of her, soon. "But I'm waiting for a guy who has some work for me."
She tried valiantly to hide her relief. "I – I hope it's a good job." Yohji could see her wondering if there was a polite way of asking what had happened, and deciding there wasn't. Her hand drifted towards her purse, and she snatched it back.
She didn't want to seem eager to leave, and Yohji was expecting a number of Esset agents on a hair trigger any moment. He said quickly, "I'm glad you're doing well, and I wish you the best. But if he sees us talking, he'll think I'm panhandling, and I won't get that job."
When finally she'd walked out of sight, he could answer his disguised headset, which had been hissing "Balinese!" at him for some time. "Just an old flame."
"They're everywhere, aren't they?" Asuka trusted him, but any wife would have asked. "Was she pretty?"
Yohji remembered the rabbity, sallow face. He also remembered kind eyes, willing to drag him along to a meeting with a new fiancé so he'd get a meal. "You can trust my taste."
"Anyone to do with the job?"
Yohji sank further into his dirty newspaper. He muttered, "...Four, five little carrion crows. No, two of them are silly, fluffy capons who just think they're crows." The brighter of Nakatsugawa's men knew they weren't, and were already filtering back to the Kurasuma Persia.
In that neighbourhood, someone muttering into newspapers isn't that unusual, but he was glad no one seemed to notice. As Schuldig had suggested, he concentrated on simple images, of hot soup and warm blankets.
Schuldig had told the attentive Kritiker agents, "The Elders aren't photocopies of each other. Just as with any other team, they have different talents, sometimes very different approaches. They have deliberately forsaken names, but the Eldest is also called things like the Sorcerer. He likes to hint he's an old fashioned, black magic warlock. It's his arcane knowledge which first contacted the One."
Meanwhile, half a city away, the Eldest was dragging the others along on a long car ride they felt not at all needed, especially after the flight from Vienna.
"If Crawford was still in charge of Tokyo, perhaps not. But I want to see the Place of Summoning with my own eyes." He nodded to Tsuji to drive. With an apprehensive look at the other two Elders, she drove. Her ambitions were more than satisfied. She had practically taken Crawford's place as their pet. She wasn't at all sure she liked it.
"That's it?" asked the other old man. Age, and his own choice, had worn away most of his emotions except greed and pride, but the ghost of surprise flickered in his dull eyes.
The Eldest left the car, and walked over to the site Crawford had so carefully picked. A few months ago it had been a lonely place, with sharp currents and rip tides to add energy to any magic. Now there was a new development. Tons of concrete sitting squarely on the Place, tons of soil sitting on that, and plants, even trees, growing on top of the soil. The sea lapped tamely and prettily at the sand.
The old woman left the car, to read with some difficulty the kanji sign: Kaito Fujimiya Memorial Park, and shrugged. "All this will be only a sparrow against a hurricane when the power of the One is brought against it."
"I know," said the Eldest, but he sounded strained. He was staring at the nearest ice-glazed tree, a dreadful suspicion stealing over him. He'd thought he'd left them all behind in Europe.
He sneezed.
The old woman hardly had to look at the rowan tree. "You do realise it's psychosomatic? Rowans have no actual Power."
The Eldest scratched himself at her, and bundled himself, shivering, scratching and sneezing, back into the car.
Perhaps in order to distract him, the third Elder asked, "Do you want a tour of Tokyo this afternoon, while we work? It's kind of historic, its last day as a free city."
The Eldest didn't have to think about it much. "Who the hell cares about their little mundane lives? We've enough miles to cover, working."
Midwinter eve. The sunset seemed to know this might be a last. It brought out all its finest colours, and spread them lavishly over the great city. It stayed as long as it could, but finally the winter night fell on Tokyo.
The fragile lights held it back.
Schuldig had said, "The She Elder may have medical training. Her specialty is biology, at least human biology."
Those words haunted Shirasagi Reiichi as the crane swung the dozens of cases off the long freight train. The labels on them said, 'Processed Meat', 'Keep Refrigerated!'
Some workers stayed, still busy less than a hundred feet away, across cartons arranged in the open air. But Crashers had the skill to enter undetected the meat warehouse. Reiichi was still checking up their probationer, but here, at least, he had no complaints.
Masato's brown hair was long and unkempt, and he was a few shaves behind. He still managed to look more as if he owned half the railway, and didn't think much of it, rather than a hobo sneaking into a deserted warehouse. He said to Naru, "You better keep watch outside."
The junior Crasher said hesitantly, "I'm a full member of this team."
The other Crashers were in flashy trench coats or, in Naru's case, a flashy golf coat. Reiichi's old tweeds were baggy enough to hide his bullet proof vest just as well. He adjusted his spectacles, and looked suspiciously over the dark freightyard. "We do need someone to keep watch."
Naru nodded. He was glad to stay outside.
They were all carrying crowbars. Ran was the first to pry open one of the cases. As expected, the 'processed meat' was a body in what looked like an iced coffin, except for the panel at its head. Ran raised his bar to smash the panel, and Yuushi grabbed his wrist. "You can't do this! He's only a child."
"He's not as human as he looks."
"Crashers are a no-kill team. We're here to intercept and hide these people. We won't kill them."
"Hide them from Esset? That won't last long." Yuushi's hold didn't relax. Ran said, "We no longer have the choice 'no killing'. Either these kill Kritiker agents, and civilians, or we kill them."
Reiichi was Bishop, and the leader of Crashers. "Knight! Castle! Crashers has been assigned the task of stopping these..." He pried open a couple of cases himself. "Children. Castle, do you believe Esset can find these people if Kritiker hides them out of Tokyo?"
Masato said hopefully, "It wouldn't have to be long."
"They'll find them. Quickly." Schuldig had never dared tell Crawford quite how much Ran had learned about Esset from Schwarz. "These can't be given a human life." Ran pulled again at Yuushi's grasp. "If you can't do it, let me."
"You are a member of this team." Reiichi looked again at the faces of sleeping children. He was thinking of how long and hard he'd fought King to keep Crashers a non-killing unit. He wondered just how far Ran could be trusted. The new guy was the sort to love or hate overwhelmingly, and might see children as nothing more than tools of his enemy.
Ran said, "Let me show you." He put down his crowbar, and pressed a couple of buttons. The nearest cradle slid open.
The boy gasped for breath a couple of times, sat up, then stepped out. He stood beside the coffin, breath slowing. Reichii thought he might be blind, then tried to see what he was looking at.
Ran said, "He's just waiting for directions. Unless he's been programmed otherwis, he'll just stand there waiting till he dies." His sword was in his hand.
At last Reiichi nodded for him to use it. Then Crashers' leader lifted up his crowbar and destroyed the first life support.
Naru's head popped through the doorway. "We're falling behind schedule."
Crashers killed faster.
Once past the high fence, Yohji looked judiciously at the Kantei, the official residence of the Prime Minister and his Cabinet. "Not so much a café as a jailhouse canteen."
Birman nodded briefly to the men guarding it. They stared back expressionlessly at her and Weiss. It would take very little to change them to the sort of thug Weiss killed routinely.
The visitors entered the building. They'd glimpsed this room in a hundred news shots, and the men sitting waiting for them. But now these men looked a lot less smooth. They looked as if they'd had most of the stuffing taken out.
Exactly, in fact, as they would if they'd been woken up after a hard day, and told about a sudden, unbelievable attack on them.
Birman bowed hurriedly, and said, "Thank you for seeing us at such short notice. I assure you it's necessary."
The Prime Minister of Japan said, "If this had not been practically an order from my most trusted anti-terrorist forces, I wouldn't have. This isn't the first, or the tenth, plot to undermine civilisation I've heard about since I replaced Takatori."
Birman bowed again. "I don't think I'd convince you by handing you all the background at once. Takatori made a bargain with a supranational. It got him the Prime Ministership. He tried to dismiss them. He died. The bargain was a good one for those people. They intended to end up owning Japan. They still intend it.
"However the original representative would have gone about this, his replacements have decided to follow his example, and control the political leaders of Japan. An elite squad have just landed at Narita Airport. Asylum seekers from Esset have told us that controlling you is high on their list. Believe me, their methods of control will work.
"Please let Kritiker take you to a place of safety."
The Prime Minister sat there blinking for a moment. Both his eyes and voice blurred, he asked, "We'd be putting a lot on the word of these self called asylum seekers. Who are turncoats, after all."
"They aren't nice people. They've been carefully trained not to be nice people. But their own survival depends on us being as fully and accurately informed as possible."
He drew himself up to his full sitting height possibly trying to look statesmanlike. "There is one thing you've overlooked."
"Sir?"
He looked at them, and suddenly stopped blinking. His eyes took an unnatural, pearly gleam. In a voice not so much blurred, as like two voices trying to speak together, he said, "One of the team was a teleporter, and we were here ahead of you."
He stood up, like a puppet being jerked upright. All the suited puppets stood up.
The Kritiker agents were good, but Schuldig's talent was the first to pick out their target from the black-and-dazzle of a main road at night. The three big 'freight trucks' were painted dull, anonymous colours. Their drivers had blended them in remarkably well with the night traffic.
The Kritiker contigent knew quite well they carried enough arms and armour to please a tanks corps. After all, they'd been Kritiker property until Nakatsugawa handed them over to Esset.
As carefully as possible, Schuldig read the lead driver's mind. The Esset drivers were mundanes, since they were the first target for attack. But there was strong talent riding shotgun. Not to mention the actual troops, alert in the back of the trucks.
As the first truck turned into a side road, Silvia began frowning in concentration. The second truck followed it, and she braced herself. When the third truck turned, she looked positively distressed.
Schuldig touched her shoulder. "You can stop now."
Silvia stopped. The 'road' surface of thin balsa her telekinesis had been supporting evaporated under the heavy wheels and all three trucks fell down into the explosives set for them.
"They are all dead, sir?" asked the senior Kritiker agent. After a blast like that, they'd have to be, wouldn't they?
Schuldig frowned. "Or dying. Keep away, though. Even a dying talent can kill." He looked away, his sharp gaze blurring. "Or tell me something." Looking back at the senior agent. "I think I've got a clue where the Elders are."
Now the youngest Elder, Schuldig had said, is the little guy with the glasses and kind smile. He makes a point of those tinted glasses. It'll be nine-tenths hype, but don't look into his eyes. Sometimes he's called the Engineer. His interest is tools. Psychics as tools, weapons of metal and plastic, crowd manipulation, and he was in on computers from the beginning. Our Bombay will be better with normal computers, but there's no telling what tricks he's got up his sleeve. But mainly, people as tools.
Something Tsuji knew quite well. She would not have been in the Engineer's corner if she'd had her free her skills didn't interest the Eldest, and the She Elder looked on her as a rival.
Mind you, she might have done otherwise if she hadn't thought the Engineer was quite right. Why bother about all the messy business of a human host, a human body? Instead of incarnating the One, you can download it. The little laptop she carried would be a sufficient gateway to the internet.
Neither the Engineer nor Tsuji were bothering with an armed invasion. Most of Tokyo had heard of this night's fighting as news on the television, and the crowd she walked among was a normal Tokyo crowd. Engrossed in their own affairs, they rushed past Tsuji, ignoring another young businesswoman carrying laptop like a briefcase.
Tsuji was sure she blended in. She must blend in. This feeling of being watched must be just nerves from the importance of her mission.
She concentrated on getting her steps just the same speed and length as the other pedestrians. On looking straight ahead, not catching anyone's eyes, while she was trying to make sure they weren't already looking at her.
She swung around suddenly, so convinced someone was just behind her.
Several people cannoned into her. She tried to recoil from all of them at once, and except for the press around her, would have fallen over.
A trodden foot, an elbowed rib, and she found herself amazed there was nothing worse.
At last she saw the internet café and headed for it. Even once safe inside, she looked over her shoulder.
She greeted with great respect the small, elderly man in glasses, who was sitting in the most private and comfortable seat at the back.
"All well, Professor?" asked the Engineer, gesturing for her to sit beside him.
She flushed with pleasure as she did so. "Yes, sir." She set the laptop out before him. "Cutting edge Japanese technology."
He leaned a little closer to check it over, and nodded with pleasure, before sliding a knife blade between her ribs.
The blood only came out in a small spurt, but it was enough.
He had done this sort of thing when he was younger. He'd checked the manager, and all the customers, had been busy with their own grubby little affairs. But when he looked up, everyone in the room was watching him fixedly. They began telling each other to hold him before he got away, or went on a rampage, and began surrounding him. Closer and closer. He was in a narrowing circle of hostile mundanes.
And he couldn't move.
He tried to move at least his finger. Someone sharing his skin with him stopped him doing even that. He could recognise Schuldig's mind as easily as he could his face.
A mundane reached out and snatched his knife from him. Another grabbed his right arm. Another held his shoulder. He couldn't even move his eyes to look at their faces, but then he'd never been interested in mundanes' faces.
They weren't the only mundanes he saw. There were many ghosts Schuldig could summon up. He tried to fight against the telepath, outraged he would hide behind his enemy's memories. This wasn't the sort of fighting telepaths did at Esset. In that sort of fighting, his narrow but aggressive form of telepathy could beat Schudig. But now all he saw was reflections of himself. He retook control of his own body, then realised Schuldig had let him, to slide deeper into his mind.
He went on fighting. Schuldig, his own memories, the mundane hands on him.
When finally the Engineer's old heart gave out, Schuldig was exhausted. He felt as if he'd been standing in vile sewage, nearly drowning deep, while holding someone beneath its surface.
Still, he should have felt triumph. But as he walked off, he looked like a man who's just been condemned to death.
The two junior members of Farblos sat in the motor boat's wheelhouse and listened to Amlisch address his troops. "Esset is spending a lot of valuable troops so we can get through. The Japs are running round like their tails are on fire. You know Farblos is the best, and we've chosen the best to fight with us. We can go through these mundanes, no matter how many there are, no matter what tricks they try.
"We sail in from the sea. We should get close before they even notice, but in the long run that doesn't matter. I'm your eyes, Prahanov is your shield, and Naoe can crush them.
"Mop up the few mundanes we miss, and help hold the Place long enough for the Summoning, and you're the heroes of Esset, entitled to first share when the One takes its place." A bit more prosaically, "Kill any Japs but Naoe, even the ones saying they're on our side. Our Kritiker agents are only mundanes, and not life loyal mundanes at that."
His men were relieved at the order. Nagi made a mental note some of them might forget he was an exception.
Amlisch came back to the wheelhouse with a gleam in his blind eyes. Prahanov had been his teammate for a long time, and he was sure of him. But Esset's most powerful telekenetic had only recently joined them, and he took time to reassure him. "Just follow my orders, and you'll have it all. With revenge on the mundanes who abused you."
Nagi remembered the tales of the thousands Amlisch had killed, and wondered what had been done to the clairvoyant, that he still wasn't satisfied.
The motor boat was still well out to sea when Amlisch sent out the bird which was his eyes. Normally, he used a pigeon, but for nightwork he had a small owl. It spread its wings and flew ahead. It scanned the whole horizon, while its silhouette melted into the bright lights of Tokyo.
It should have looked up.
None of Farblos knew, and the sole survivor never found out, Kritiker had, as part of its formidable equipment, a high flying stealth helicopter. Ran had been giving Crashers lessons in how to screen from telepathic scanning, so it was Bishop flying, and Rook shooting.
As far as Nagi, and the rest of the Farblos force, was concerned, their boat just blew up on them.
Amlisch kept his tone as calm as possible, while speaking loud enough to be heard over his men's shouts. Holding onto the nearest bit of petrol slippery wreck, "Pyros, do not use your talent. Sergei – yes. Nagi, keep the boat afloat." Nagi supposed he meant the largest part. "Telepaths," he looked at the bodies floating in the dark water, "report your condition."
Nagi considered. Stopping a man's heart was the standard murder for Esset telekenetics, but it was slow and obvious. It was so much quicker to stop the blood to a man's brain.
Not Amlisch. He was holding them together, but it was Sergei Prahanov's shield which would save the force. It took only a moment. Yes, Amlisch, he did want revenge on the people who abused him.
Nagi slid into the water, just in time to miss being blinded by the glare of a rocket launched from the shore.
He was poor at normal swimming, but used his power to send himself through the sea. Far enough away to feel safely screened by the dark, he looked back.
Amlisch was salvaging some foothold with weaker telekinetics, ordering telepaths to find and destroy their attacker. Nagi sent out his power against it. The drifting remnants of the boat exploded. His talent shouldn't have exploded it, should it?
After that, Nagi kept a wary eye on the water around him.
Schuldich stopped and looked at the Kantei. Behind the fence were a number of irate guards. On the outside stood Weiss, all four of them apparently healthy, though Kudoh was annoyed about something.
The nearest few guards trotted over, to see if they could vent their spleen on him. He nodded at Weiss and said, "I'm with them." The guards glowered more.
He strolled up to Weiss. Kudoh turned to him for support. "The Prime Minister bit me!"
Botan said, "Well, we've all had rabies shots."
Omi said soothingly, "He was overwrought, Yohji-kun. And it was hardly the time."
Asuka said, "It was a good speech." She obviously felt the PM's breech of etiquette the more serious. In what, for Asuka, was an outstanding display PDA, she kissed Yohji's cheek, and let him go back to nursing his wrist.
Botan said judiciously, "I don't think it was the speech. I think it was Yohji ruffling his hair."
Schuldig said, "I don't have to ask what's happened to Schattig. What about the Elders?"
Omi said, "Two, Jaeger-san." He bowed to the nearest guard, who went on glowering. Weiss' sudden switch from ally to enemy back to ally suggested he better keep an eye open for the next change. "These gentlemen, believing both Esset and Weiss were enemies, took care of them for us." Even under urgent threat, Schudig savoured the picture of two Elders being shot to pieces by guards, who thought of them just as something in the way. He only wished they'd died hurting more. "But the third - " Schuldig jerked his thumb down. Omi smiled.
Schuldig stood watching them for a minute. Silvia had suggested letting them believe they'd won. If they went to sleep believing that, and didn't wake up again, she thought it the kindest thing to do.
But Schuldig wasn't going to lie down and kill himself. He was going to make his enemy work as hard as possible for victory, however sure it was. And Weiss would be a strong ally. He said, "Schattig would have died anyway. The Elders meant to kill them, though they wanted them to kill you first." Four alert professionals faced him. Even the guards stopped grumbling and listened.
He told them, "I guess it was the She Elder who tried to incarnate the One in a vessel. That didn't work. Then the Engineer thought of downloading him, into the internet. That mightn't have worked anyway. But the Eldest decided to summon his demon directly, the old fashioned way. Spells, for all I know. Blood sacrifices.
"Today the Elders somehow sketched a pentagram on the city of Tokyo. Tonight they, with Kritiker's help, spilled their slaves' blood in a summoning, at each of the five points."
Asuka might have seen a lot of strange things in Weiss, but seemed to have trouble with this. "Anyway, the death of the summoner ends the spell."
Schuldig nodded to something behind her. "Obviously not."
Weiss turned and looked.
Smoggy Tokyo in midwinter has lots of darks. This was darker than any of them had ever seen. It made a wall, from which the corner of the Kantei jutted like the end of a log in a fire.
Several people were staggering out, looking desperate for air. Schuldig was reminded of the survivors of a gas attack. He said, mostly to Bombay, "I don't think we'll be able to get out of this part of Tokyo. But if we lie low, we might be able to get in a little sabotage. Japan's probably done for, but if we get as much info as possible to the rest of the world..."
Omi patted him on the shoulder, and said, "You're a good man." Then he turned to Birman. "Is Nakatsugawa still in Persia's old office?"
"Yes. It's so well defended."
Bombay's thoughts balanced the speed he could access the Koneko's equipment with the greater power and resources Shuichi had given to Kritiker's HQ. Schuldig listened impatiently. The Engineer had been so sure...
"Yohji-kun, will you drive us to Kritiker headquarters?"
"Kudoh speed!"
Weiss had meant to truck Prime Minister, Cabinet, and guards in a bus plainly marked as one of Japan's best known tourist companies. Seated across the aisle from them, Schuldig spoke over Botan to Omi. "We better grab one of their surveillance vans. We can live it in for a while." Yohji took off, and he closed his eyes. Botan chuckled.
It wasn't only because of Yohji's driving, though Schuldig didn't mean to get planesick at groundlevel if he could help it. He contacted Silvia. Her reply over the team link was distant and distracted. Yes, she'd warned Ran. All Crashers, in fact. They'd gone to the Place of Summoning to fight the One. Not meant for Schuldig to receive, the image of Honjou and Ran standing side by side.
Schuldig told himself Ran had never been meant to be more than a diversion. Besides, if the One killed them cleanly, they might be the best off in all Tokyo. But he warned Silvia not to go with them.
She sent /No. I've been under Esset's thumb too long. I'm going to have a really luxurious restaurant meal. Then I'll try to get away from Tokyo by subway, under the dark. If it works, I'll keep on running. If it doesn't, I'll use my telekenesis to break my own neck./ Schuldig jerked himself away from the near relief she felt at the thought. This was no time to be tempted by that. The last team link he had shredded like tissue paper.
When he opened his eyes, Birman, in the front seat, was talking on a Kritiker radio. Just then, Asuka joined in her conversation, and told it, "We can e-mail you pictures of the dead Elders. You'll have no trouble finding the record of the recent death, by heart attack, of the third."
Schuldig blinked. "You're actually trying to talk Nakatsugawa into surrendering?" Weiss optimism was alien to his Rosenkreuz training, but this was outside the solar system altogether.
Botan looked meaningfully at Omi, who was working frantically on his laptop. Asuka sent by telepathy, in a overloud amateur way, /Into letting us save their lives, along with everyone else's./
Schuldig winced and made a shushing gesture at her.
Omi looked up. "Tell them, if they walk out, they won't be pursued either legally or covertly."
Birman said, "I don't have the authority to make such a promise, and Nakatsugawa knows it."
Bombay said, "Weiss makes the promise. Kritiker will honour it."
Birman started to open her mouth, possibly to point out he had even less authority than she had. Then she looked at him. Maybe she was thinking of Kurasuma, nowadays treated as Persia. Kritiker had accepted Shuichi was gone for good. Kurasuma was hard working and honest, but Shuichi had deliberately chosen a second who would challenge him with no sort of ambition or ability.
Yohji, who was a good enough detective to keep his ears open and his mouth shut when he had to, said, "It won't be long before we're there. Shall I give them time to start arguing?"
"No, Yohji-kun." A few taps of his laptop keyboard. "From this satellite picture of Tokyo, we can't lose any time."
Schuldig caught a glimpse and said, "Good idea. We destroy all records of Kritiker agents and resources. The One might use human servants."
Yohji parked in front of police headquarters. When the five of them got out they breathed in air too cold and bad even for midwinter Tokyo.
Omi coughed, and said hoarsely, "Weiss, and Mastermind. I ask you not to use weapons, except to defend yourselves."
Tonight no armed police barred the way to Kritiker HQ. There was still a lot of people about. From the reports of energy and communications down, the police knew there was some of disaster happening. Those who recognised Birman watched her hopefully. At least some of them could guess the identity of the people with her.
Nakatsugawa was waiting for them just in front of the front steps, a senior aide at each shoulder. He bowed low to her. "Takaoka-san."
"Chief Superintendant." It almost surprised Schuldig to remember this flunky of Esset's was a highly placed police officer.
He bowed to the rest of them. "We walk, we have the word of Weiss we walk away free."
He was looking mostly at the eldest, Botan, and it was Botan who said "Yes."
Nakatsugawa bowed again. "Takaoka-san knows where my office is. I've left all the equipment unharmed and ready for use."
All three of the Esset flunkies walked down the steps onto the street. Birman watched them go bitterly. "His office! It's Persia's. That man's had my friends killed."
Asuka said, "He may have saved the rest."
They walked into the foyer, and what appeared like the major part of the Tokyo police force got a good look at them. Asuka said softly. "Looks like, if we do come through, Weiss is blown anyway."
Birman tried to reassure her. "You'd be surprised how many cops know about you already."
On a large television screen they saw a much larger, clearer version of the picture Schuldig had glimpsed on Omi's laptop. It was a real time photo of Tokyo. On the normal city lights was a dark pentagram. Not just a failure of the lights, but the same utter dark they'd already seen close up. It could even be seen where one arm stretched over the sea, far darker than the night ocean.
Birman led them into a private lift, which dropped a floor more than it should have. Before she opened the doors, everyone looked at Schuldig. He shook his head. "No one there."
There really wasn't. The entire Kritiker floor was deserted. Lights and office machines were on. Cups of coffee still steamed on desks. Papers which should never have been left unguarded were dropped on the floor.
Birman led them to Persia's office. For the first time, and he hoped the last, Omi sat in Persia's chair. He asked Birman, "The overrides?"
Birman walked him through the protocols Persia had designed for hijacking his brother's control of the city. The other three Weiss arranged themselves to repel any Esset attack. Schuldig decided this was no time to start teaching them how to live under a powerful tyranny. He sat on the edge of Persia's rosewood desk, and sneered at the Nietzche slogan Nakatsugawa had hung on the wall.
Shuichii had been more interested in communications, but Omi went for the electrical power. Schuldig heard him thinking to concentrate on the clear and white lights. Through Omi, he could follow circuits clicking on, powering to full. Omi looked at him. "Even Tokyo has only finite power. Will breaking the pentagram in a few places be enough?"
"I don't know."
"Nor do I. Let's try four."
On the desk, the screen of Omi's laptop could be seen by all. As bright a white as possible, a line of light arrowed in the four directions. When the light reached the dark, even Schuldig forgot he knew better, and watched hopefully.
The dark drank it. It seemed to spread up the white like smoke, dimming it.
Botan growled. Asuka snapped, "Step up the power!'
Omi said with a flatness none of them mistook for calm, "If I do, something in the grid's likely to give. I'm drawing on as much power as I can keep up. And make no mistake," he might almost have been addressing the dark, "we will keep it up."
The light suddenly flared brighter. Schuldig had to blink several times see anything but dazzle.
Yohji said wonderingly, "It's gone."
Where the pentagram had been, there were few lights. But it was nothing like the dark that had been earlier. There was no sign of it at all.
But Omi was the careful type. For the rest of the long night, the white cross burned bright to defend Tokyo.