Ben stood and faced the ninjas. As a private detective, his specialty was dealing with the banal evil that exists in the heart of all humanity, coming face to bloody vertebrae with a more immediate form of evil had completely unnerved him, leaving him mentally and physically unprepared to deal with even a small group of crazed eastern warriors.
"Wait, wait!" he cried breathlessly, holding up his hands in a placating gesture, "Don't hurt me."
"Caucasian scum, why should we not kill you now?", raged the smallest ninja.
A pretty fair question really, thought Ben morosely. There was an awkward pause as the detective's frazzled mind vainly sought a plausible answer.
"Lets kill him and get out of here. The boss expected us back hours ago." said the fattest of the ninjas. General sounds of approval came from everyone else except Ben.
"Wait!", the American wailed again, "Are you working for a woman named Lucida?"
"Yes, not that your dead corpse will care." replied the little masked man.
"Lucida, Kripovsky, and Angus are all in it together. They must be stopped." Ben could hear the desperation creeping into his voice, but at this stage he did not really care. "They are planning something terrible, stockpiling heaps of that stuff," Ben pointed to the lump of mystorite recently separated from its zombie body.
The mention of the mystorite seemed to give the ninjas pause for though. "You, wait!", the tiny leader demanded of Ben and then turned to his compatriots to begin several minutes of discussion in frantic Japanese interspersed with quick threatening glances in Ben's direction. Ben stood quite still during the debate, he was slowly recovering from the zombie's attack but was in no condition to flee the ninjas. It was all he could do to stand.
Finally the robe-clad trio came to a decision. "You will come with us now," explained the skinniest and tallest of the group to Ben, " and lead us through your treacherous American architecture to Lucida and the others of which you speak." As he gave the order, the young warrior took out a small object that was hanging around his neck on a thin cord and showed it to Ben. "Perhaps then we will get an explanation for this!"
Ben peered at the item - a chunk of mystorite, larger than any he had seen so far and unlike those, carved into an elaborate pattern of swirls and spirals. The ninja tucked it back into the folds of his robes.
"They better have an explanation for a few other things as well" Ben muttered darkly as he retrieved his wrecking bar from the corner.
The smallest ninja, Tiny, held up a warning finger. 'If you think to betray us, American dog, you will soon feel the point of my shuriken up your backside!'
Ben swallowed the retort which rose to his lips - something along the lines of how this sort of behaviour has obviously been enjoyed by the Nip troops a bit too often during the war, and had led to their defeat - and nodded, once. The tall ninja started off down the corridor from whence the threesome had come. With a shove, Ben was sent stumbling after him. A brief glance over his shoulder showed Fatty right behind him, scowling belligerently. Tiny brought up the rear, clearly the safest place in this deadly shop of horrors.
Once Ben had taken care of the serious business of naming the tall ninja - he settled on Wonton - he had the luxury of time to consider his next move. Given that he was the prisoner / unwilling companion of three certifiable psychos who had noticeably failed to give any guarantees about not killing him, his first priority would seem to be escape. On the other hand, he had to admit that their formidable fighting powers made their company possibly safer than wandering around on his own. His skin crawled as he thought about the zombie. What would have happened if it had succeeded in poking that piece of mystorite into Ben's flesh? Something sick and un-American, no doubt. No, for Amy's sake, and all the other girls Ben had loved - hell, even his ex-wife, and Sally Reptile too - Ben was dutybound to fight on until the source of this evil was revealed.
A shove from behind sent Ben stumbling forward, into Wonton's back. Tempting thought the idea of turning round and bringing his wrecking bar swinging into Fatty's face was, Ben drew a deep breath and told himself to be patient. There'll be another time, he thought.
Wonton stopped before a pair of large metal doors - a lift. Much japanese debate followed. He nodded, and pressed the lift control. A whine of machinery started up. Somewhere in the distance, a dull thump sounded, then another and another. The thumps intensified, and Ben's blood ran cold. Something was sharing the complex with them - could it be more zombies? Even the ninjas looked nervous.
The lift doors sluggishly ground open, and the foursome piled in. by now the thumps, though no closer, were continuous, and Ben imagined a holding pen full of zombies, dozens, perhaps hundreds, of them.
The doors shut, thankfully muffling the sounds to some degree. There were six buttons on the wall; without hesitation Tiny went to press the top one. His hand almost made it - no, he couldn't quite reach. He stepped back and snarled an order at Wonton, who meekly obliged. The lift started up.
'Everyone in this dump is going to know we're coming, what with that racket,' Ben remarked, then wished he'd said nothing. But the expected beating did not come.
'We know not what goes on in the house,' Tiny retorted. 'They may well be busy with other problems. Whatever happens, we shall strike first and... strike hard!'
Fatty and Wonton chanted agreement. Ben decided to do some sleuthing. 'Listen, in the interests of interracial relations, we should exchange names. I'm...' he thought hard, best not to give them his real name, 'Namoo Fong. And you are?'
They looked At him hard, and then burst out laughing. The lift ground upwards slowly - too slowly; the progress of lights on the controlboard revealed that they had barely risen two levels in this time - and the ninjas continued laughing. Ben stood there ashen-faced, wishing he had chosen a more white American name.
Tiny raised his face, still wet with tears of laughter. 'Namoo! Namoo - Fong! Ah ha ha ha ha ha!'
'It's a pretty ordinary name where I come from,' Ben retorted defensively.
'And where is that exactly, Mr Fong?'
'Canada.'
More laughter ensued. Tiny's laughs were like the shrill yips of a chihuahua, Fatty's laughs were like the wet slurping sounds of an industrial cake batter-mixing machine, and Wonton - in Ben's assessment the least obnoxious of the bunch, and the only one for whom given the choice between a bullet in the brain and twenty years in the slammer he would plump for the latter - sounded like a brain-addled boy hearing his first rude joke.
'But did we not greet you the first time we met? Slademore-san?'
Ben was horrorstruck. They knew his name! Had known it from the beginning, a crucial fact which he had forgotten. How? Why? Where? His brain went into overdrive - they had known to find him - which meant someone had sent them out to look for him, and kill him - which meant...
'It was that big black guy, and the woman, wasn't it!' he accused. 'They sent you straight out after me...' He halted in confusion, that couldn't make sense, he hadn't actually given his name to, what were their names, Miss Dee and Mustafa.
'Who?' Tiny seemed confused, then dismissed the names with a flick of his hand. 'No, we work for Miss Melheart - Miss Melheart Senior.'
'Oh, shit shit shit shit!' Ben cried, appalled at his own obtuseness, forgetfulness and genral lack of private investigator skills. Lucida had mentioned that fact, when they first met, in the unlovely company of Uncle Angus - or was it Albert - and Kripovsky. And Lucida had probably found out from Amy somehow, perhaps by overhearing, or checking her diary, or whatever - it didn't matter. Ben began to dance on the spot, in frustration. 'I'm the worst private eye there is - oh God, if the fellows at the LA Private Eye Association hear about this I'll be a laughing stock - oh - oh'
The lift lurched, and the ninjas cried out in alarm. Fatty reached out and grapped Ben in some sort of bearhug. The grossness of their physical contact brought Ben to his senses.
Tiny was talking. 'You American fool! You endanger us all. Have you no manhood?'
'Let's get them out, and we'll see who's got no manhood!' Ben snarled. 'But you're right. I'm OK now.' Nervously he faced Tiny, waiting to see whether he would be executed for lying to them, or for his insult to their manliness.
Tiny started to laugh. 'Ah - ha - ah ha - ah ha ha ha!' He slapped Ben on the shoulder, in a friendly kind of way. 'You're not so bad, Benjamin! You have sense of humour, even if you're pretty dumb. But that's OK.' He ruffled Ben's hair, or tried to, succeeding only in dusting the collar of his shirt. 'But leave the thinking to us, OK?'
'OK,' Ben grunted, in shame.
'I am Temuka Kenjisu,' said Tiny. 'I'd tell you from where, but then I'd have to kill you, so I won't, OK?'
'OK,' Ben said, inwardly perking up at the first sign that they might place some longterm value upon his life.
'And my troops are Genjitsu Gurkhi' - this he said indicating Fatty, who nodded, 'and Akaira Joji' - pointing to Wonton, who smiled shyly.
'OK,' Ben said, 'got it, Tiny equals Temuka, Fatty equals Genjitsu, Wonton equals Akaira. Think I can handle that.'
'Who is Tiny?' Temuka enquired.
'Oh, no-one.'
'And Fatty?' Genjitsu asked suspiciously, hands balling into fists.
'Er,' Ben muttered. Attack was the best form of defence, and so he leapt in, verbal guns blazing. 'So if you're working for Lucida and her cronies, what are you doing traipsing round here like a bunch of thieves?
All thoughts of names and insults were clearly forgotten. 'We work for her for now,' Temuka explained, 'but that is only so we can learn more about this evil substance, mystorite. It has been a great bane in our homeland, and we are sworn to destroy the source of this evil. Once we have done so we can return to the crevasses and iceflows of our homeland.'
Hmmm, so they're not from the Okinawa end of Japland, Ben thought, and filed this thought away from future reference. He was determined to make up for his earlier errors of deduction by being the best detective ever, from now on.
'We had made contact with a distinguished adventurer who made us an offer we could not refuse. His employers were gathering Mystorite for purposes unknown, but we understood that the term "Druids" was part of the puzzle. We came to California, and met his masters - Lucida, Angus and Kripovsky required. Lucida required certain people to be liquidated. There is no better team for that kind of work than we three. We have done her bidding and killed, maimed or kidnapped her enemies as required, but all the while we have been gathering information, and now we have enough - now we strike.'
Druids? Ben thought confusedly. Weren't they tree-huggers, a bit like hippies? He had a vision of Jefferson Airplane-types and George Harrison lookalikes running around, clutching chunks of mystorite.
The lift jerked to a halt. The doors swung open of their own accord, and the three ninjas leapt out, silently. Ben followed in their wake.
They were in a richly decorated mezzanine. Crimson carpets, golden chandeliers, finely embossed wallpaper, a railing of richly polished wood protecting a wide open space that afforded a fine view of the entrance to the mansion proper, on the floor below - clearly they were in the mansion proper. There were men below; footmen, and guys in trenchcoats, standing huddled together and looking out through the front doorway of the mansion, through which daylight blossomed. Incredibly, it seemed that no-one had heard the lift arrive. Ben stepped back, all the better to keep well out of sight of the lot below.
Ben felt a tap on his shoulder, and stifled a shout. Akaira was holding a finger to his lips and beckoning. Already Temuka and Genjitsu were halfway along the landing, heading inexorably towards a pair of imposing wood-and-leather doors. Ben followed suit.
They halted at the doors. Ben could hear voices, made distant and blurred by the thickness of the wood and leather. Genjitsu produced a cup and gently pressed it to the door. Temuka bent his ear to the glass. Not to be outdone, Ben found a ninja-free piece of door, crouched down, and applied his ear to it.
Eavesdropping is one of the most important skills a private detective can possess, and Ben considered himself something of a master, but it did not take his years of practice to distinguish the two raised voices coming from within. Evidently, an argument had been ensuing for some time.
"I told you that man was dangerous. We didn't need him and we never should have trusted him.", that was Lucida, her shrill voice cutting through the door like a four speed drill.
"We did need him, and we still do.", Angus' voice was surprisingly vigorous with anger. "He's the one who supplied most of the Mystorite. He's the only one with the contacts to sell the weapons. Blah, he practically finished off the design himself."
"That's what worries me, how does he know so much about the Mysorite? That Russian knows far to much to have just chanced upon our weapon shop. I think he has other plans we know nothing about."
"As I told you before, its none of our business. Melheart Industries is selling your father's guns no questions asked. The price he is paying buys a lot of privacy."
"Oh, I have no problems with the money. I'm just worried about what he is building in the basement. I don't believe it's a mystorite grading machine or whatever it is he claims."
"Who cares what it is!", Angus' replied, "Blah, the deal is almost done - Kripovsky reckons he will be finished whatever it is he is building this evening, the guns are almost ready, and your sister is locked up downstairs. One more day and everything will be back to normal - better than that, now that your father is under our thumbs."
So that Russian goon is downstairs working on something, Ben thought to himself. A picture sprang unbidden into his mind, a scene in which Kripovsky, alone and frail, worked feverously in a darkened room as a handsome and muscular detective crept up unseen behind him, a short bar of metal raised high above the Russian's brittle skull.
"But what about all that chanting he does", Lucida shouted, bringing Ben momentarily back to the present "That's not right - even for a Russian."
"Let him chant all he wants. What business is it of ours?"
Another scene assembled itself in Ben's mind, this one showing Kripovsky lying face up on the floor before the strikingly attractive detective, pleading for mercy. The detective paused only to plant a lingering kiss on the lips of Amy Melheart (conveniently standing within easy kissing distance at the detective's side) before moving in on the helpless man to violently deliver another package of pain. Ben's pulse quickened at the vision, unthinkingly his hand clenched around the hard surface of the wrecking bar at his side, his mind lost in prophetic glories.
Keeping guard just behind the eavesdroppers, Akaira gazed down at the grubby white man in disgust. Clearly the detective was not keeping his mind on the job, his glazed, unfocused eyes, dopey smile and the fact that he was humming quietly to himself did not inspire confidence. All three ninjas had been worried about coming to America, imaging a land full of the super warriors who had forced the surrender of their Japanese homeland - a wound still fresh in their racial soul. It disturbed Akaira no end that a citizen of this young and brash nation could display such weakness of spirit.
Dragging his eyes away from the detective, the young ninja quickly risked a glance over the balcony - none of the men below had moved. They were still standing around the doorway, seemingly staring out into the early evening twilight. The foyer of the mansion also held several nice examples of American colonial artwork which part of Akaira could not help staring at with a appraising eye. There were many items that would look particularly nice in the Emperors throne room back in Iceland.
A gesture by Temuka, his leader, brought Akaira back towards the door. Orders were conveyed and acknowledged silently using the complex finger code of the Ninjitsu discipline, and all three warriors slowly readied their swords, ignoring the bulky detective still crouching by the door.
"Scions of the glacier," whispered Temuka very quietly as he carefully turned the door handle, "attack!"
Still leaning with his ear against the oak and his intellect focused on picture show playing in the theater of his mind, Ben was totally unprepared for the signal to move. As the tiny samurai leader pushed open the door Ben was caught off balance and fell headlong into the room, totally unable to break his fall. He landed awkwardly, his wrecking bar landing with the loud clang beside him.
Sprawled out on the floor, Ben looked up in time to see Angus and Lucida spin around in shock as the three ninjas rushed passed the fallen detective into the well provisioned oak study that the door had opened into.
Of the Melhearts present, Lucida was quickest to recover. Quickly she grasped a old ornamental vase from the mantelpiece behind her and threw it at the charging trio with suprising force for a woman of her size. Her aim was off, however one of the ninjas broke formation to catch the vase out of the air and neatly set it down on the floor before resuming his attack. By this time Angus had picked up a long poker from the fireplace and was waving it about in front of him as only a accountant in his late fifties can. Temuka quickly rushed forward a dashed the ineffectual weapon out of Angus' hands with his long sword.
"What are you doing?" Lucida hissed at the remaining two ninjas as they approached, reaching behind her for another vase, "You're supposed to be working for me! And what's he doing here?". She nodded in the direction of Ben, who was still picking himself up.
"Silence, dishonorable woman!" commanded Temuka from in front of Angus, a few feet away, "The time for orders has passed. Now is time for answers!" He nodded towards Akaira, who pulled out the mystorite pendant from beneath his robe and thrust it in Lucida's face. "What do you know of this?" he demanded.
White with rage, the young woman opened her mouth and ... screamed!
The Irish have a legend about a supernatural being, a devilish woman whose piercing cries are so terrible they can kill even the stoutest man stone dead just from hearing them. This ghoulish person, the Banshee, was said by elders with knowledge of such things to live in caves deep in the oldest and darkest part of Ireland's misty forests. If any of these elders had been within two hundred yards of Lucida Melheart that day the legend would have been modified significantly.
Ben clapped his hands over his ears to try and shut out the awful noise drilling through his skull. The ninjas, much closer, were even worse off and Angus looked quiet sick. Luckily for everyone's hearing, Akaira had the presence of mind to cup his hand over Lucida's mouth, but far to late. Ben's tortured ears could pick up the sounds of shouting and feet running up the stairs behind them.
Seconds later the half-dozen men who had been guarding the house burst into the room. They were a burly lot, hand picked by Kripovsky to discourage visitors to the house, well versed in the rough and tumble (and the stab and shoot) of Los Angles underworld life. However six lifetimes of dark experience had not prepared the group for the sight of three furious ninjas in full battle pose, gleaming swords held high.
"What are you waiting for?" Angus cried, "Get them!"
The six men paused, exactly the wrong thing to do. Ben stepped out from behind the door and charged the nearest thug, a man slightly smaller than himself. The wrecking bar became a blur of dark metal slicing the air, giving the man no time to react. Half a second and a sickening thud later and the man was embraced by gravity.
The goon beside him was quicker, as his compatriots prepared to battle the Asian warriors he swung a punch at Ben just as the momentum of the detective's swing prevented easy defense. The force of the blow knocked Ben further off balance and suddenly the man was on top of him, punches falling like rain upon the detective's unprotected face.
The other thugs were fairing worse against the ninjas. Two of the trenchcoated men, brothers by the looks of them, had pulled out long thin knives from the recesses of their clothing and advanced, but a knife is no match for a sword and both men were soon on the floor, having both sustained wounds that would require a skilled surgeon to prevent long term scarring.
While Ben was still grappling with his burly opponent, one of the remaining men drew a large pistol from a holster at his side but before he could bring it to bear, a flick of Temuka's wrist sent a bright circular blade whistling into the man's arm, forcing him to drop the firearm. The men's shout of pain was cut short by the hilt of Genjitsu sword as the tubby ninja stepped forward and brought the pommel of his sword down upon the back of the thugs neck, knocking the larger man unconscious.
The last of the miscreants did the only smart thing - he turned and tried to flee from the room. By this time, Ben had managed to get the upper hand over his foe and was currently kneeing on top of the barely conscious man, jabbing about the head with the blunt of his metal weapon. In this position Ben had the chance for one last cheap shot, and he was not one to pass up the opportunity. As the fleeing scoundrel passed beside him, Ben quickly reached out and pressed the sharp end of the wrecking bar into the back of the man's knee. Again the miscreant did the only smart thing - he collapsed in a heap of pain.
Ben stood up rubbing his slightly painful jaw. He gave the man at his feet a couple of kicks for good measure and then turned to Angus, who had spent the fight huddled in the corner of the room. The old man was clearly terrified, his eyes darted from the detective to the bleeding men on the floor and back again. Somehow he managed to shrink further back into the corner as Ben approached.
"Where is Kripovsky?" the detective demanded.
Angus was too alarmed even to speak, "Bl-blah" he spluttered.
"Never mind that," said Akaira, "where is Lucinda?"
Ben and the other ninjas looked around. Lucinda was gone.