later, the road became level, its sharp turns now gentle curves. Ahead, above hulking trees, Savage saw a glow. He passed through an open gate, steered around a clump of boulders, and entered an enormous clearing. Fallow gardens flanked him. Spotlights gleamed, revealing paths, benches, and hedges. But what attracted Savage's attention was the eerie building that loomed before him.
At first, he thought it was
several
buildings, some made of brick, others of stone, others of wood. They varied in height: five stories, three, four. Each had a different style: a town house, a pagoda, a castle, a chalet. Some had straight walls; others were rounded. Chimneys, turrets, gables, and balconies added to the weird architectural confusion.
But as Savage drove closer, he realized that all of these apparently separate designs were joined to form one enormous baffling structure. My God, he thought. How long must it be? A fifth of a mile? It was
huge.
None of the sections had doors, except for one in the middle, where the road led to wide wooden steps and a porch upon which a man in a uniform waited. The uniform, with epaulets and gold braids, reminded Savage of the type that bellmen wore at luxury hotels. Abruptly he saw a sign on the porch—MEDFORD GAP MOUNTAIN RETREAT—and understood that this peculiar building was in fact a hotel.
As Savage stopped at the bottom of the stairs, the man in the uniform came down toward the car.
Savage's muscles hardened.
Why the hell weren't my instructions complete? I should have been told where we'd be staying. This place … on a mountaintop,
totally isolated,
with just Akira and me to protect Kamichi, no explanation of why we came here, no way to control who comes and goes in a building this huge … it's a security nightmare.
Recalling the mysterious exchange of briefcases, Savage turned to Kamichi to tell him that
ura,
private thoughts, might be wonderful in Japan, but here they gave a protector a royal pain and what the hell was going on?
Akira intervened. “My master appreciates your concern. He grants that your sense of obligation gives you cause to object to these apparently risky arrangements. But you should understand that except for a few other guests, the hotel will be empty. And
those
guests, too, have escorts. The road will be watched. No incident is expected.”
“I'm not the primary escort,” Savage said.
“You
are. With respect, though,
yes,
I'm disturbed. Do
you
agree with these arrangements?”
Akira bowed his head, darting his profoundly sad eyes toward Kamichi. “I do what my master wills.”
“As must I. But for the record, I don't like it.”
“Your objection is noted. My master absolves you from responsibility.”
“You know better. As long as I've pledged myself, I'm
never
absolved.”
Akira bowed again. “Of course. I've studied your credentials. With approval. That's why I agreed when my master decided to hire you.”
“Then you know this conversation's pointless. I'll do what's necessary,” Savage said. “Totally. But I will not work with you and your master again.”
“Once is all that's required.”
“Then let's get on with it.”
Outside the car, the man in uniform waited. Savage pressed buttons that released the doors and the trunk. He stepped from the car and told the man to carry the bags inside. Nerves tingling, he glanced around at the looming darkness, then preceded Kamichi and Akira up the steps.
9
The lobby looked like a vestige from the 1890s. Antique pine lined the walls. Wagon wheels were chandeliers. A single primitive elevator stood next to an impressive old staircase that crisscrossed upward. But for all its historical charm, the place smelled moldy and stank of decay. A hotel for ghosts.
Savage kept his back to Kamichi, watching the deserted lobby, Akira doing the same, while their principal murmured to an elderly spiderweb-haired woman behind a counter.
“We won't use the elevator,” Akira said.
“I advise my
At first, he thought it was
several
buildings, some made of brick, others of stone, others of wood. They varied in height: five stories, three, four. Each had a different style: a town house, a pagoda, a castle, a chalet. Some had straight walls; others were rounded. Chimneys, turrets, gables, and balconies added to the weird architectural confusion.
But as Savage drove closer, he realized that all of these apparently separate designs were joined to form one enormous baffling structure. My God, he thought. How long must it be? A fifth of a mile? It was
huge.
None of the sections had doors, except for one in the middle, where the road led to wide wooden steps and a porch upon which a man in a uniform waited. The uniform, with epaulets and gold braids, reminded Savage of the type that bellmen wore at luxury hotels. Abruptly he saw a sign on the porch—MEDFORD GAP MOUNTAIN RETREAT—and understood that this peculiar building was in fact a hotel.
As Savage stopped at the bottom of the stairs, the man in the uniform came down toward the car.
Savage's muscles hardened.
Why the hell weren't my instructions complete? I should have been told where we'd be staying. This place … on a mountaintop,
totally isolated,
with just Akira and me to protect Kamichi, no explanation of why we came here, no way to control who comes and goes in a building this huge … it's a security nightmare.
Recalling the mysterious exchange of briefcases, Savage turned to Kamichi to tell him that
ura,
private thoughts, might be wonderful in Japan, but here they gave a protector a royal pain and what the hell was going on?
Akira intervened. “My master appreciates your concern. He grants that your sense of obligation gives you cause to object to these apparently risky arrangements. But you should understand that except for a few other guests, the hotel will be empty. And
those
guests, too, have escorts. The road will be watched. No incident is expected.”
“I'm not the primary escort,” Savage said.
“You
are. With respect, though,
yes,
I'm disturbed. Do
you
agree with these arrangements?”
Akira bowed his head, darting his profoundly sad eyes toward Kamichi. “I do what my master wills.”
“As must I. But for the record, I don't like it.”
“Your objection is noted. My master absolves you from responsibility.”
“You know better. As long as I've pledged myself, I'm
never
absolved.”
Akira bowed again. “Of course. I've studied your credentials. With approval. That's why I agreed when my master decided to hire you.”
“Then you know this conversation's pointless. I'll do what's necessary,” Savage said. “Totally. But I will not work with you and your master again.”
“Once is all that's required.”
“Then let's get on with it.”
Outside the car, the man in uniform waited. Savage pressed buttons that released the doors and the trunk. He stepped from the car and told the man to carry the bags inside. Nerves tingling, he glanced around at the looming darkness, then preceded Kamichi and Akira up the steps.
9
The lobby looked like a vestige from the 1890s. Antique pine lined the walls. Wagon wheels were chandeliers. A single primitive elevator stood next to an impressive old staircase that crisscrossed upward. But for all its historical charm, the place smelled moldy and stank of decay. A hotel for ghosts.
Savage kept his back to Kamichi, watching the deserted lobby, Akira doing the same, while their principal murmured to an elderly spiderweb-haired woman behind a counter.
“We won't use the elevator,” Akira said.
“I advise my
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