Owl and the Japanese Circus by Kristi Charish Page B

the agenda. “I am booking you on a plane back to Tokyo, where you will meet Oricho’s contact—”
    “OK, no offense, but I’ve had about enough of your interference. I’ll get on a plane after I’ve got what I came for.”
    “Oricho has arranged help for you in Tokyo. There is no one in Bali, and there are other . . . arrangements . . . I need to make—”
    “I’ll be back in Tokyo first thing tomorrow morning,” I said, and hung up. I was already antsy about Bali, and Lady Siyu was not helping. Damn it, if I didn’t need to see the inscriptions and site for myself, did she really think I’d be over here?
    I noticed the surf hostel shuttle pull up, and I threw my surfboard in the back and hopped into the front seat beside the neon-orange-haired driver. I sent two emails off, one to Oricho with Lady Siyu cc’d, letting them know I was in Bali, and the second to Nadya, letting her know about the scroll case, with a note to mention it to the two archaeology students, Aeto and Shinobi, who had written the thesis and done the excavation. As an aside, I mentioned she should try them on the egg case inscriptions we did have. I thought Nuroshi was our better bet; unfortunately the old turnip was a genius with dead languages, so it was worth a shot.
    “Plan on doing some surfing?” Kato said, and I did a double take. He was a lot younger in person than his photo had led me to believe. I wondered if all Balinese looked young for their age, or if Kato was an exception.
    “Windsurfing, actually . . . are you old enough to drive?” I said.
    “I’m old enough for a lot of things,” he said, flashing me a very white smile.
    “Stick to driving, kid,” I said. “Hey, could we swing by the liquor store first? I so need to pick something up for the team. They’re letting me stay with them for free and all.” Nothing wrong with working the broke student angle.
    “Sorry, lady. No stops.”
    “I’ll throw in twenty bucks.”
    He looked at me over the rim of his sunglasses, trying to look cool. Geez, he couldn’t be more than thirteen. “Where you want to go?” he replied.
    “Oh good, we speak the same language.” Kato fixed his eyes on the carrier, and Captain decided at that moment to let out a meow.
    “That’s a cat.”
    “So?”
    “Cat’s extra.”
    “Like hell it is. I’m already giving you twenty bucks to take me to the liquor store.”
    He smiled. “Another twenty for the cat or no liquor store.”
    I leaned over and beckoned Kato with my finger. Smiling, he took the bait. My windsurfing board sticking out the back blocked us from view of the airport. As soon as he was close enough, I grabbed him. “Look, kid, I’m already giving you an extra twenty, and you’re going to be happy with that. Otherwise, you’re out the entire fare and then you’ll have to explain to the archaeologists what happened to me and I’ll tell them you left me on the side of the road after taking my money. Do you really want me to do that?”
    He gulped. “I’ll tell them you threatened me.”
    It was my turn to look at him over my sunglasses. “Kid, my name is Charity Greenwoods. Look at me—who do you think they’re going to believe?”
    Kato gulped again but recovered fast. “Twenty bucks it is, lady,” he said, and we were off.
    Captain mrowled as I shoved his carrier into the back of the jeep. “What, you wanted us to be stranded at the airport?” Apparently not, since he settled down.
    It’s clichéd, but I let my hair down and enjoyed the salty sea breeze as the jeep wound its way out of the airport and branched off from the rest of the tourist traffic. I had a few hours until sundown. I’d check out the beach, get some surfing in, and give out booze with a little added incentive to go to sleep. Once everyone was passed out in their beds, I’d rifle through their computers and see what I could get. By the time Nadya called, I’d have a complete map of each site.
    “Hey Kato, how long till